Blog Tour: False Lights by K J Whittaker

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As regular followers of What Cathy Read Next will know, I’m a huge fan of historical fiction. Add in a ‘What if?’ element and I’m hooked. So I’m thrilled to host today’s stop for False Lights by K J Whittaker which ticks both those boxes.

You can find an extract from False Lights below.

Plus, there’s a chance to win your own copy of False Lights (UK & ROI only). You can enter here. Entries close 15th September 2017.


FalseLightsAbout the Book

What if Napoleon, instead of Wellington, had won the Battle of Waterloo? Wellington is in secret captivity in the Scilly Isles and the Cornish are threatening to join forces with France against the English. Against this tumultuous backdrop, Hester Harewood manages to escape from the French soldiers who have killed her black sea captain father. Her rescuer – Jack ‘Crow’ Crowlas – takes her to shelter with his aristocratic family in London. But soon they are embroiled in a web of treachery and espionage, as plans are laid to free Wellington and lead an uprising against the French occupation. Meanwhile, Crow’s younger brother throws in his lot with the Cornish rebels and threatens to bring Hester and Crow’s elaborate plans crashing down, as this spellbinding story builds towards its violent and gripping endgame.

Format: Hardback (368 pp.)          Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 7th September 2017     Genre: Historical Fiction

Purchase Links*
Amazon.co.uk ǀ Publisher
*links provided for convenience, not as part of any affiliate programme

Find False Lights on Goodreads

 


Extract: False Lights by K. J. Whittaker

The wind rose again, and dark clouds crept across the sky from the east. Was that small bay Lamorna Cove? Even if these men could be trusted to reach the great stone quay at the western reach of the bay without drowning them all, where might she be safe? The moment she set foot on land, every last scrap of sand, earth and moorland belonged to the Earl of Lamorna. There was a new earl, too – that scandalous boy who had sailed with Papa on the Belle and then left the navy to join Wellington’s staff in Spain.

Hester forced herself to steady her breathing as she weighed up the options: before Buonaparte had escaped his island, prison and set Europe alight with another war, Papa had gone to London on naval business, and she’d spent the winter of ’14 at Nansmornow, the ancient seat of the Earls of Lamorna. She’d never met the new earl – Papa knew him, of course, but he’d run away to sea at such a young age, afterwards joining the army, that she had never chanced to meet him at Nansmornow. The Lamornas were allies – of a sort. For so many reasons, Hester preferred not to recollect those frostbitten mornings, the sidelong glances of the Lamorna servants, ice on the windowpanes, and the Lamornas’ friends – women in fussy silk gowns not quite daring to meet her eye, or staring when they thought she did not attend.

Lord Lamorna – Mark – had died not long after Waterloo, they said, of a fever contracted as he searched the battlefield for the corpse of his estranged eldest son. But by the grace of God, that son had survived what should have been mortal wounds and was now the earl, a little-known quantity.  Hester had seen his name in The Times in the weeks after Waterloo: he was the messenger who had failed to reach Wellington with news that the allies had changed sides. Typical Wellington, Papa had said, frowning down at the newspaper. Always first to lay the blame at someone else’s door. Shabby of him to let it get out that it was Crowlas who didn’t reach him, poor lad. Lady Lamorna herself would be in London at this season, the great house Nansmornow cloaked in dust-sheets, but in any case, the Lamorna estates were far too close to what Hester had left behind. The French would look for her at Nansmornow, surely.

Even if by some miracle she escaped these soldiers, Papa’s manumission papers and the codicil confirming her own freedom were locked in his desk in the library on the top floor of the tower at Castle Bryher. Papa had never once left home without them. The Abolitionists might refuse as much sugar in their tea as they like, Papa used to say. The whole economy is bound up in the iniquity of it. The truth was, she could be kidnapped by anyone from Land’s End to the Highlands, disappearing without trace into a slave trade that had diminished, but survived underground. Hester pressed her hands to her face in a useless attempt to smooth away rising panic: the men simply ignored her.

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K J Whittaker (1)About the Author

K.J. Whittaker is the Carnegie-nominated author of six YA novels published by Walker Books under the name Katy Moran. She works part-time in a bookshop and lives in Shropshire.

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Blog Tour: A Jigsaw of Fire and Stars by Yaba Badoe

AJigsawofFireandStarsBlog tour banner

I’m thrilled to host today’s stop on the blog tour for A Jigsaw of Fire and Stars by Yaba Badoe. Yaba is an award-winning Ghanaian-British filmmaker and her novel is described as a ‘powerful, haunting, contemporary debut that steps seamlessly from the horrors of people-trafficking to the magic of African folklore’.  The gorgeous cover is the work of illustrator, Leo Nickolls.

I’m delighted to say you can find an extract from this magical book below.

Plus, I can offer two lucky people the chance to own a SIGNED copy of A Jigsaw of Fire and Stars:

1) How to enter: Like and leave the comment “A Jigsaw of Fire and Stars”’ on the pinned post on What Cathy Read Next’s Facebook page – click here for link.
2) Winners: Two winners will be chosen at random and contacted via Facebook to provide name and address details. Prizes will be despatched direct from the publisher.

3) Eligibility: UK & Republic of Ireland postal addresses only.
4) Closing date: Entries must be submitted by 11.59pm GMT on 18th September.

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Badoe_A JIGSAW OF FIRE AND STARS_illus Leo NickollsAbout the Book

Sante was a baby when she was washed ashore in a sea-chest laden with treasure. It seems she is the sole survivor of the tragic sinking of a ship carrying migrants and refugees. Her people. Fourteen years on she’s a member of Mama Rose’s unique and dazzling circus. But, from their watery grave, the unquiet dead are calling Sante to avenge them: A bamboo flute. A golden bangle. A ripening mango which must not fall . . . if Sante is to tell their story and her own. Rich in the rhythms and colours of Africa and glittering circus days. Unflinching in its dark revelations about life. Yaba Badoe’s novel is beautiful and cruel and will linger long in the memory.

Praise for A Jigsaw of Fire and Stars:

‘The dark magic of African folklore meets the horror of modern-day people-trafficking in a powerful YA debut told in dazzling style with rich, seductive language.’ (Fiona Noble, The Bookseller)

Format: Hardback (278 pp.)        Publisher: Zephyr     Published: 7th September 2017
Genre: YA, Fantasy

Purchase Links*
Amazon.co.uk ǀ Publisher ǀ Kobo
*links provided for convenience, not as part of any affiliate programme

Find A Jigsaw of Fire and Stars on Goodreads


Extract: A Jigsaw of Fire and Stars by Yaba Badoe

There’s only one thing makes any sense when I wake from my dream. I’m a stranger and shouldn’t be here. Should my luck run out, a black-booted someone could step on me and crush me, as if I’m worth less than an ant. This I know for a fact. And yet once or twice a week, the dream seizes me and shakes me about:

‘Kill ’em! Kill ’em! Take their treasure!’ The order goes out and a dilapidated trawler in a stormy sea shudders. An iron-grey vessel, lights blazing, rams it a second time. The iron monster backs away, then with engines at full throttle, lunges again.

Faces contort. Old ones, young ones, men and women, brown and black faces. Screams punch through the air. Fishing nets tangle, spill over. A fuel tank explodes and the sea glows, roiling with blood and oil.

Below deck, a stench like an over-ripe mango oozes from a crouched woman. She shrieks: ‘My baby! My baby! Save my baby!’

A tall man responds with a command: ‘The sea-chest. Fetch our treasure. Quickly. For the child’s sake. Move.’

A figure tumbles into the sea. Then an old man, a girl in his arms, leaps. A deafening jumble of sound and sea swallows the cries of the drowning. The slip-slip-patter of bare feet on galley stairs ascend. Anxious eyes flit in faces bright with fear in the flame-light. The hand of the tall man pummels a pillow of yellow dust, then a footrest filled with glittering stones for the baby’s feet. Someone folds a cloth, a fine tapestry of blue and green, into a blanket.

‘Give her this,’ says a burly, bald-headed man. ‘My dagger to help her in battle. May the child be a princess, a true warrior, valiant in the face of danger yet merciful to those she defeats.’

‘May your spear arm be strong, my daughter,’ the tall man adds. ‘Your legs swift as a gazelle’s, and your heart the mighty heart of a lioness protecting her cubs.’

The petrified woman scribbles a note and hides it beneath the pillow, whispering a prayer. ‘May our ancestors watch over you, my child. May the creator of all life guide you and make you wily in the ways of the world we are sending you to.’      

The grey vessel, a trail of carnage in its wake, surges forwards with a splutter of gunfire. Bullets splinter the deck, tearing it open, and the trawler erupts in flames.

The tall man grabs the baby and bundles her into the chest. He holds it aloft and flings it into the sea. It lurches and almost capsizes. The baby gurgles, entranced by the rough play of water as a wave steadies her boat. She smiles, a jigsaw of fire and stars reflected in her eyes, and she stretches a dimpled hand to touch the moon.

Burning timber from the trawler’s bow crashes and splashes the baby’s face. Enchanted by flying embers, she coos. But when the sobs of the dying reach her, and waves stifle their gasps, she begins to whimper.

And, flung to and fro, bobs up and down, crying in the night.


Yaba Badoe photoAbout the Author

Yaba Badoe is an award-winning Ghanaian-British documentary filmmaker and writer. In 2014 Yaba was nominated for the Distinguished Woman of African Cinema award. She lives in London.

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