Today I’m pleased to feature Grace, the latest historical fiction novel from Helen Steadman. Published by Bell Jar Books on 4 November 2026, Grace is currently touring with the Coffee Pot Book Club, and I’m delighted to be taking part.
A young woman answers a cry across the water and loses herself in the echo.
Longstone Lighthouse, 1838.
Grace Darling wakens to the howl of wind screaming over stone and the sight of a ship smashed against the rocks. No stranger to the fury of the sea, she braves the raging waters, risking her life to save nine survivors.
Her valour captures the nation’s heart, and in the aftermath of her daring rescue, she is hailed as a heroine. Painted, praised and relentlessly pursued, Grace is swept out from the shadows of solitude and into the limelight. But fame brings its own tempest, and the lighthouse keeper’s daughter soon finds herself eclipsed by her own legend.
Grace is a haunting portrait of a modest young woman consumed by the voracious gaze of Victorian Britain.
Helen Steadman
Author Bio:
Helen Steadman mostly writes biographical historical fiction (think herbs, healing, witch trials, swords, shipwrecks and lighthouses) set in the north east of England.
So far, she’s written the Newcastle Witch Trials Trilogy (Widdershins, Sunwise and Solstice), The Running Wolf (about the Shotley Bridge swordmakers) and Grace (about Grace Darling, the Northumbrian lighthouse keeper’s daughter).
And then – because why not – there’s God of Fire set on Mount Olympus, which is absolutely nowhere near the north east of England.
Triggers: It’s based on the true story of the SS Forfarshire being shipwrecked, with most passengers not surviving (mainly death by drowning), including 2 children (a boy aged 8 and a girl aged 6). The eponymous heroine, Grace Darling, also dies of consumption (TB).
This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
Secrets of the Penny University offers a dual timeline journey through hidden truths, long‑held hopes, and the moments that change everything. Set in Oxford, it draws the past into the present until the two feel inseparable. The result is a story that unfolds with purpose and leaves a lasting impression.
Step into a tale where time speaks in two voices. Here’s the blurb:
Tilly risks everything on a promise. Amy wants the truth.
“I think something terrible happened here”
2025: When Amy and her husband buy an old property on Oxford’s High Street with plans to open a new coffee shop, the discovery of a mural painted on a wall hints at a story that has lain dormant for centuries. Before long, Amy is seeing and hearing echoes of the past, and a young woman who once lived there. As the penny university reveals its secrets, will Amy’s growing obsession with the past lose her everything she has in the present?
1656: Abandoned by her lover and pregnant, Tilly is sent from the small village of Islip to live with cousins in Oxford where she will work in their coffeehouse. She is soon drawn into the excitement of her new life in the city, until the return of a nightmare from her past changes the course of her future. As the time for her child to arrive draws closer, Tilly is faced with a difficult decision; does she turn her back on everything she has hoped for and settle for a different life? She follows her instincts and gambles.
Amanda Roberts
Author Bio:
Author, bookworm and history lover, Amanda grew up in Derbyshire but has lived in Oxfordshire since 1997. A magazine editor by profession, she has published four novels and a short story.
Her first novel, The Roots of the Tree, was based on a true family story and is close to her heart, but her real love is historical fiction. She has published two dual timeline books set in Oxfordshire (The Woman in the Painting and its sequel Secrets of the Penny University) and Lady of the Quay, the first in a series of historical crime/suspense novels set in 1560 in Berwick-upon-Tweed. Second book in this, the Isabella Gillhespy series, will follow in 2027.
When not writing or attending bookish events, she can be found exploring crumbling ruins – wherever in the world she happens to be – or relaxing with her two ginger cats.
I would like to thank Janet Wertman and the coffeepot book club for my complimentary copy of this novel to review. As always, this review is entirely honest.
What Love E’er Meant is a controlled, quietly focused novel that approaches Elizabeth I without theatrics.
Janet Wertman avoids the temptation to turn Elizabeth into an untouchable icon or a tyrant. Instead, she presents her as a woman shaped by vigilance, performance, and the constant need to manage the people around her. The result is a portrait that feels grounded and authentic.
What Love E’er Meant is a controlled, quietly focused novel that approaches Elizabeth I without theatrics.
Janet Wertman avoids the temptation to turn Elizabeth into an untouchable icon or a tyrant. Instead, she presents her as a woman shaped by vigilance, performance, and the constant need to manage the people around her. The result is a portrait that feels grounded and authentic.
The book moves at a steady pace. Wertman favours introspection over spectacle, and the narrative leans into Elizabeth’s private calculations rather than her familiar public triumphs.
The research is present but never showy, and the dialogue keeps a consistent period tone without drifting into imitation.
Where the novel is strongest is in its treatment of Elizabeth’s emotional economy. Wertman shows how affection, loyalty, and trust function in a court built on ambition. The relationships are drawn with clarity, and the central question of what love means to a woman who must constantly perform strength is handled with a level head. I really enjoyed the scenes with Robert Dudley.
This is not a novel that tries to reinvent Elizabeth or shock the reader. It offers a thoughtful, measured study of a ruler who understood the cost of being monarch.
Five Stars!
Blurb:
A new queen must prove she deserves the throne God gave her, while the path everyone insists will secure it might cost her everything
Against all odds, Elizabeth Tudor has become Queen of England. Determined to fulfill what she sees as a divine responsibility, she sets out to heal a country ravaged by religious discord, war, and debt – and vindicate the legacy of Anne Boleyn, the mother who did not deserve her fate.
But Elizabeth’s crown is not fully secure: to the Catholic world, her cousin Mary Stuart is the rightful Queen of England and there are rumblings to put her there. Shoring up defenses requires that Elizabeth challenge France’s control of Scotland and Spain’s dominance on the seas, as well as calm internal strife. Above the din of menace, one question dominates all others: who will she marry?
William Cecil, her trusted Secretary of State, urges her to secure an alliance through a strategic match. Robert Dudley, the love of her life, pressures her to choose him. And Mary herself presents a cautionary tale. In the end, Elizabeth chooses not as a woman but as a queen, and learns the sobering truth of sovereignty: to rule is to stand alone.
What Love E’er Meant, the searing second volume in the Regina Trilogy, captures a young queen’s struggle to balance love and power, duty and desire…and the profound cost of choosing crown over heart.
Janet Wertman
Author Bio:
Janet Wertman’s critically acclaimed, character-driven historical novels reflect a passion for the Tudor era she had harbored since she stayed up late at age eight to watch The Six Wives of Henry VIII and Elizabeth R.
Her Seymour Saga trilogy (Jane the Quene, The Path to Somerset, The Boy King) took her deep into one of the era’s central families – and now her follow-up Regina series (Nothing Proved and What Love E’er Meant out now, Forever Gloriana to come) explores Elizabeth’s journey from bastard to icon.
She shares interesting takes on the Tudors at http://www.janetwertman.com and her YouTube channel @TooMuchTudor.
When The Wizard of Oz graced the silver screen in 1939, it changed cinema and popular culture forever. But the true story began decades earlier with the young composer who risked everything to bring it to the Broadway stage.
At the turn of the century, twenty-three-year-old Paul Tietjens is a gifted classical pianist with dreams of greatness and a non-refundable ticket to Europe to study with the master composers of his time.
But when the bank calls in the debt on his family’s Missouri farm, Paul forgoes his dream to save them from financial ruin. Desperate to find a new road to success, he moves to up-and-coming Chicago, where he persuades author L. Frank Baum to collaborate on a comic opera of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, setting the stage for the defining cultural touchstone that we know today.
Paul embarks on his opera with high hopes, but scandal threatens his soaring ambition when he falls in love with his best friend’s beautiful but married sister, and his fears grow as the Wizard of Oz demands not only his talent but his soul.
Inspired by Paul’s 1901 diary, The Lark follows Paul as he journeys from the theaters of Chicago to the streets of Manhattan, from his family’s Missouri farm to the beaches of Michigan, fighting to hang onto the chance of a lifetime, his integrity, and the woman he loves.
Laura C. Rader
Author Bio:
Laura C. Rader is the award-winning author of the biographical historical novel Hatfield 1677. When she isn’t writing, you can find her conducting research, playing her 1905 antique piano, and spending time with her family, friends, and pets.
A native of Southern California, she now lives north of Raleigh, North Carolina.
Come with me, and step back into the world as it once was with an excerpt from Sparrow’s Song by Marilee Aufdenkamp. This is the story of a young woman who steps out of the noise and grime of factory life in 1917 and into a new world. She entered a fledgling nursing school, hoping only for a chance to breathe, yet soon found herself rising through its ranks.
With her new authority brings strain, and every lesson she teaches carried its own quiet weight. Her journey stretches from the first great war into the second, shaped by courage, longing, and the quiet battles fought behind hospital doors.
Blurb:
Shortly after Kathryn Scheibel leaves her cigar‑making job in 1917, she enters the Army School of Nursing, a pioneering WWI nurse‑training program that offers the education she’s longed for but couldn’t afford. More than two decades later, her career carries her, as an instructor, into the Cadet Nurse Corps, the federal WWII nursing‑education initiative created to support the war effort. There she sees the same pressures she once felt now directed at students with even fewer protections. When two Black students are treated unfairly, Kathryn must decide how to respond.
Sparrow’s Song is a sweeping, intimate novel about resilience and belonging, rooted in the real history of wartime federal nursing education and the evolving landscape of modern American nursing. At its heart is a young immigrant woman pushing herself toward the advantages she’s convinced education will unlock, even as that drive pulls her away from the people and heritage she loves.
An excerpt from Sparrow’s Song:
Getting ready for the yellow party was a source of anxiety and excitement. “A little shorter, please, Mutti. I don’t want Mrs. Abbott’s friends thinking I’m old-fashioned.” Kathryn stood in the living room on the wooden box that Mutter used to reach her sausage grinder and other seldom-used items stored on the highest shelf in the kitchen.
Kathryn’s mother lifted the hem, so it fell just at the point where Kathryn’s lower leg began its steepest taper toward her sturdy ankles. She worked quickly, circling Kathryn on her knees, straight pins held captive by her pursed lips. Großmutter, who scowled at length as the dress was being made, came over to inspect the sleeves and flatten the collar. Broad stripes in alternating shades of pale and bright white ran up and down the cotton voile overlay.
“Oh, Großmutter,” Kathryn said. “Your handiwork is the nicest there is. Some pale-yellow trimming, even the tiniest bit of tatting on the sleeves and collar, would make me feel like the grandest lady at Mrs. Abbott’s party.”
“Okay. I’ll do it,” Großmutter said, “but don’t get your head full of fancy ideas about being something other than what Gott intended. As much as you paid for this little bit of nothing, you could’ve had a nice swath of blue serge, enough to make three skirts and some left over. It’s pert near like you’ve lost your head since you got over there with that Abbott woman.”
While Kathryn’s mother finished pinning the hem, Großmutter brought out her tatting supplies. “No yellow,” she said, “but this should be nice against that sheer white.” She picked up a ball of ivory thread and began winding one of her wooden tatting shuttles.
Kathryn motioned for her mother to stop pinning. She jumped off the box and hurried to Großmutter. “That would be beautiful, Großmutter, but for this party the trim on my dress has to be yellow.”
“This Mrs. Abbott tells you what color you have to make your clothes to wear to a party?”
“It’s because it’s a yellow party. For suffrage.”
“What is this suffrage? I never heard of it.”
“It’s the right to vote. For women. Yellow represents the light. Mrs. Abbott says that when we wear yellow—only she says when we don yellow. The closest in our language, I think, means to put on. Mrs. Abbott says that when we don yellow for suffrage, we are like sunflowers turning our faces to the light. She said we’re going to decorate the whole house yellow for the party. She’s even going to pay Mutti to help with the decorating.”
Großmutter shook her head. “What kind of foolishness are you speaking about? This is what happens when a woman has too much money so that she doesn’t have to spend any time taking care of her family. She starts talking nonsense.” Großmutter went back to her chair. She stared out the window and continued muttering under her breath. She spoke at length, shaking her head from time to time, but it was impossible to hear what she was saying. Kathryn’s jaw tightened. It seemed Großmutter liked nothing more than being in control and making people miserable. In Russia, she had been the head of the family. Here, Kathryn knew, she felt of little value. Her crossness was understandable, but lately it seemed she was more critical than usual, and at times Kathryn tried to avoid her.
Kathryn turned to her mother. “I brought the measurements for the porch. Mrs. Abbott said she called the dry goods store and told the proprietor you’d come by next week to get some fabric for the bunting and that he is to put it on her account. She’s leaving it to you to buy the pattern and choose the fabric. I told her you won’t need to buy a pattern at all. That you just have to look at the picture in the store and you’ll be able to come home and make your own pattern.”
“I guess you can buy me some yellow tatting thread while you’re at the dry goods,” Großmutter said. “Maybe that Mrs. Abbott should be buying the thread for the dress, too, if she’s taking it upon herself to decide what can be worn at one of her fancy doings.”
Trigger Warnings:
Two off‑page suicides
One short scene involving sexual harassment / coercion
One brief scene of non‑graphic violence
Marilee Aufdenkamp
Author Bio:
Marilee Aufdenkamp is a retired nurse educator who taught undergraduate nursing for twenty‑six years before turning her full‑time focus to historical fiction. She writes early to mid‑twentieth‑century stories grounded in immigrant experience and working‑class life.
Her debut novel, Sparrow’s Song, was inspired by her early nursing career in Nebraska, where she came to admire the Germans from Russia she cared for at the end of their lives.
Originally from Southern California, she has spent her adult life in Nebraska.
This title/series is available to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Margaret’s story continues in this third instalment of Nancy Jardine’s Victorian Scottish saga, carrying her north to Aberdeen and along the rugged coastline beyond. This third novel follows her search for honest work and the quiet determination that drives her to use her skills well, wherever the road takes her. It’s a new stage in her journey and a fresh adventure for us to share with Nancy’s readers.
Escape In Paradise: Evasion
1870 Scotland
Fleeing from Peterhead, Margaret Law makes Aberdeen her refuge. Menial jobs keep her and her toddler son fed– till an unusual tutoring task boosts her finances, and self-worth. Letters to best friend Jessie contain the absolute truth, especially when Johnny Fraser re-enters her life. Is he the man for Margaret to grow old with? When better employment emerges in St. Andrews, Margaret is torn. Will the move mean losing Johnny?
When Johnny follows Margaret to St. Andrews, their life together is idyllic. But when menacing secrets unfold, will Johnny’s past indiscretions be their undoing? Will he lose the cherished family he is establishing with Margaret?
Praise for Fraying Skeins:
“Jardine has once again brought nineteenth-century Scotland vividly to life while keeping Margaret and the people around her firmly at the heart of the story. Watching the determined little girl I first met in Novice Threads grow into this resourceful and courageous woman has been immensely rewarding, and there are more than enough intriguing threads left to make me eager to continue Margaret’s journey in the next instalment.“
Nancy Jardine writes historical adventure fiction, historical saga, time travel historical adventure and contemporary mysteries. Research gobbles up lots of time but it’s a delight, and never a chore. Her garden wouldn’t win any prizes but tending it is a great way to unwind and gives her some lovely plants to post on Instagram!
When not creating her novels, or promoting her writing, she loves to interact with readers at Book and Craft Fairs where she signs/sells paperback versions of her novels. Recently she’s taken part in author panels at Book Festivals.
Memberships include: Historical Novel Society; Society of Authors; Scottish Association of Writers; Federation of Writers Scotland; Romantic Novelists’ Association; and Alliance of Independent Authors. She’s self-published with Ocelot Press.
I have an absolute treat for you today: an excerpt from the long‑awaited sequel to the global bestseller Leonardo’s Swans by screenwriter and award‑winning journalist Karen Essex.
The novel unfolds in Renaissance Italy, where Lucrezia Borgia and Isabella d’Este collide in a sumptuous story of intrigue, ambition, and buried secrets. It’s everything you could want from historical fiction—rich, dangerous, and irresistibly compelling.
About the novel:
Renaissance Rivals, the long-awaited sequel to the global bestseller Leonardo’s Swans, tells the story of the brutal rivalry between two of history’s most fascinating power women: Isabella d’Este, Marchesa of Mantua, celebrated in her own lifetime as “The First Lady of the World,” and Lucrezia Borgia, Duchess of Ferrara, daughter of the infamous Pope Alexander VI and one of the most maligned women in history.
Before Maggie O’Farrell’s doomed duchess in The Marriage Portrait, there were the women who built the courts, forged alliances, and commanded works of artistic genius. In both Renaissance Rivals and Leonardo’s Swans, Essex invites readers to step back one generation into the glittering courts of Renaissance Italy, where beauty, intellect, marriage, and ambition could determine the fate of nations.
The excerpt:
In the city of Rome, the Vatican, 1501
Lucrezia fell face up upon the gold brocade spread covering the bed, her spine sinking listlessly into the mattress while the room spun around her. Dust from the road still clung to her skirts, and her bodice reeked from days of travel. Her ladies tugged at her clothing, trying to free her from the fetid garments, but she waved them away.
She was weary. Weary from the jolting journey by horse, mule, and litter that had carried her home, but even more exhausted by the resistance her entire being had mounted against every mile traveled toward Rome.
Her arm failed her and dropped heavily onto the bed.
“Draw me a bath,” she murmured.
Once they had gone, she raised her hand and let it fall again upon the lavish coverlet, noticing that no dust rose from it. The extravagant decorations in her Vatican apartments were so new there had scarcely been time for dust to settle. She could still smell the dyes upon the rich velvets, tapestries, and brocades draped throughout the room and see the fresh-polished gleam of the newly crafted furnishings.
How beautiful it all was, this hastily assembled opulence, a whirl of deep colors and sumptuous textures arranged to please her and erase the memory of her final days within these very rooms, from which she had fled so suddenly only months before at the command of her father, His Holiness, Pope Alexander Borgia.
“I cannot tolerate your tears, Lucrezia,” he had said, never mind the reason for them. “Do you not trust us to know what is best for you?”
For the first time in her life, she had not immediately bent to his will, and he had sent her away to grieve behind the thick fortified walls of the fortress at Nepi in Lazio, north of Rome.
Even Cesare had neither stopped him nor wished to.
“You are not behaving like a Borgia,” Cesare had told her before turning his back as the litter carried her away.
The memory still stung now, despite that weeks later he had appeared at Nepi to reveal his plans and reassure her of his love.
Why had they not simply left her there?
Just as she had recovered her strength and begun to enjoy a life of solitude and reflection, the dreaded letter demanding her return had arrived. She had feared coming back to this Vatican chamber where she had suffered the greatest anguish of her life, but her father had anticipated this and assumed that fresh surroundings would erase the horrifying past.
Not a trace of the former décor remained. Everything had been swept away like yesterday’s gossip and remade into a setting for her future.
From her position upon the bed, she felt as though she were gazing upon a magnificent theatrical stage newly assembled for a grand production. Indeed, she suspected she was about to become a player in some new drama for which she had not yet been given her lines.
The spectacular painting of Venus, nude and reclining within a gilded frame upon an easel facing the bed, strongly suggested the nature of the role she was expected to perform. The goddess’s slightly parted pink lips seemed meant to lure the viewer into enchantment, yet to Lucrezia they appeared mocking.
Curled beneath knowing blue eyes, those lips looked on the verge of laughter. What did they know that she herself had yet to discover?
The pope had offered no explanation for summoning her back to Rome beyond claiming that he missed her and that it was time for her return. Perhaps he intended to travel and required her once again to oversee his secular affairs within the Vatican.
She had fulfilled those duties before, even before her twenty-first birthday, astonishing cardinals who wondered aloud what madness possessed the pope to leave a mere girl in charge while he traveled. When he announced that Lucrezia would govern in his stead and that her signature would carry his authority on legal documents, one of the more malicious old cardinals had risen and exclaimed: “But Your Holiness, she possesses no pen!”
The entire congregation had roared with laughter at the crude and overused euphemism for the male organ.
Regardless of gender, the cardinals remained perpetually enraged by the pope’s determination to elevate his children to greatness. Yet after months of performing administrative duties with the ease and grace of a seasoned magistrate, they had come to respect her, or at least those particular abilities.
The rest they neither respected nor ever would. And for that she could not entirely blame them, for she knew much of what she had done was sinful and shameful. Still, she took the sacraments daily and knew what must be done to repent.
She confessed directly to God, of course, for she could never tell the truth to her earthly confessors, who knew perfectly well who she was despite the chain metal and muslin curtain separating sinner from cleric within the confessional booths.
If she told the truth, she would be punished. Not directly. No, they punished her in subtler ways, by taking from her whatever she most cherished while showering her with luxuries and splendid things until she became too intoxicated by beauty to protest what had been done.
This last crime, however, had been different.
She had refused to be placated by silver and gold, by entertainments and distractions, by promises of a radiant future if only she obeyed. She had refused, and for that she had been banished. Then mysteriously she had been summoned back.
Before leaving Nepi, she had consulted the fortress astrologer in hopes of discovering why she was being recalled. The old seer had charted the movement of the stars and declared, Jupiter will soon shine favorably upon you, bestowing honors beyond your dreams within mere months of your return.
How much had Father paid for such a prophecy? she wondered.
Triggers: Child loss; miscarriages.
Karen Essex
Author Bio:
Karen Essex is the national and international bestselling author of RUN, DARLING, KLEOPATRA, PHARAOH, LEONARDO’S SWANS, STEALING ATHENA, DRACULA IN LOVE, AND BETTIE PAGE: LIFE OF A PINUP LEGEND. All feature iconic women—powerful women who seduced the world and ruled it.
Essex is also an active screenwriter and speaker, and an award-winning journalist. She divides her time between Los Angeles, New Orleans, and Europe. Her novels are published in twenty-nine languages.
Leonardo’s Swans, the prequel to Renaissance Rivals, was a runaway bestseller in Italy and won the prestigious Premio Roma for Foreign Fiction.
I would like to thank Jon Byrne, the Book Guild, and the Coffee Pot Book Club for providing me with a review copy of Soldiers of Christ. As always, this is an entirely honest assessment, regardless of the complimentary copy. This review contains no spoilers.
This is a rip roaring read following the life of Richard Fitz Simon, an exiled Norman noble who flees England to join a German brotherhood of warrior monks. It is a well researched novel and an exciting, full‑blooded story.
I loved the fight scenes, the rivalry and jealousy among the brothers, the flashes of humour, and Richard’s deadly enemies. I loved to hate Bishop Albert and Richard’s master and Knight‑brother Rudolf, and don’t get me started on the sneaky, treacherous Wolfgang. So much of this felt real as I read it, especially the squabbles, revenge, and corruption. It was all so human and gritty, which is what I enjoy in a novel.
The descriptions of battles and hand‑to‑hand combat made me feel the exhaustion and the pain the characters would have endured. There is plenty of tension, romance, and adventure throughout. It is well written, clearly researched, and full of energy.
I’ve given it four stars because it’s a strong, well researched novel that’s full of action and dark. Which I love.
Blurb:
In a land torn by crusade and rebellion, honour is earned in blood.
1205. Richard Fitz Simon has fled England after his title was usurped, joining the Livonian Order of Swordbrothers – a German brotherhood of warrior-monks fighting to bring the word of God to the pagan frontier. After slaying the Lithuanian champion at the Battle of Rodenpois, Richard is celebrated by the Order and their Semigallian allies.
Yet his position remains precarious. Jealous rivals question his right to stand among the brotherhood, and his master, Knight-brother Rudolf, is enraged by Richard’s disobedience. When dark secrets from Lübeck resurface, Richard also finds himself at odds with Bishop Albert, head of the Christian mission in Livonia. As he struggles to reconcile faith, duty and identity, he is drawn into a brutal world of suspicion and bloodshed.
Sent on an expedition to build a castle deep in the wilderness, Richard soon sees tensions erupt – and the path he has chosen threatens to destroy everything he has fought to become.
Jon Byrne
Author Bio:
Jon Byrne, originally from London, now lives with his German family by a lake in Bavaria with stunning views of the Alps. As well as writing, he works as a translator for a local IT company and occasionally as a lumberjack. He has studied the medieval world for over twenty years, building up a comprehensive personal library and a particular interest in the often-overlooked Northern Crusades.
Soldiers of Christ is Book Two of The Northern Crusader Chronicles, a gritty, historically grounded series focused on realism, moral ambiguity, and the brutal realities of medieval warfare.
Written for readers who value authenticity and atmosphere over romanticised adventure, the novel explores a largely forgotten crusading frontier, culminating in the first of many confrontations in a harsh wilderness of forest and swamp.
Readers who enjoy the historical detail of authors such as Bernard Cornwell, Conn Iggulden, or Ben Kane may find familiar ground here.
I would like to thank Jeffrey Archer, HarperCollins UK, and NetGalley for my advanced copy of Adam and Eve to review. As always, my review is entirely honest & there are no spoilers.
Screenshot
Book Blurb:
THE FINAL NOVEL FROM THE MASTER STORYTELLER
November 11th, 1918. As the guns of the Great War fall silent, two babies draw their first breath.
Eve is the daughter of an Earl. Adam, a shepherd’s son. Yet from their first meeting they form an extraordinary bond that neither privilege nor prejudice can break.
Then on a single September night in 1940, as Hitler prepares to invade the British Isles, their actions will change his mind. Determining not just their own futures but the fate of a nation.
They will show extraordinary courage. They will make unimaginable sacrifices. And the story of what they did will stay with you long after you’ve turned the last page.
From the broads of Norfolk to the beaches of Dunkirk, Adam & Eve is a breathtaking epic of courage, sacrifice, and love forged in Britain’s darkest hour.
‘If there were a Nobel Prize for storytelling, Archer would win’ Daily Telegraph
‘Archer is a master entertainer’ Time
‘Probably the greatest storyteller of our age’ Mail on Sunday
‘Peerless master of the page turner’ Daily Mail
Jeffrey Archer’s book ‘End Game’ was a Sunday Times bestseller.
My Review:
Adam and Eve starts with all the hallmarks of Jeffrey Archer’s usual strengths: pace, clarity, and a premise that promises moral tension. For most of the book, it’s competent, readable, and engaging enough. He breaks all the rules like the master storyteller he undoubtedly is.
My problem:
The first twist is where everything collapses. Archer tries to deliver a shock reversal, but it’s so implausible, so unbelievable, and so coincidental that I found myself shaking my head in disbelief.
Then a strange swap takes place, and instead of deepening the narrative, it cheapens it. Worse still, other twists pile on top of the first one, and each one is less believable than the first.
Why it didn’t work for me:
To be fair to Archer, all the signs are there from the start of the novel that the twists are possible. However, the issue for me was that I found them utterly unbelievable and the result felt contrived rather than clever.
My overall impression:
The book is readable; Archer always is, but the ending leaves a sour aftertaste. It’s hard to recommend a novel whose twists undermine the entire structure. Readers who enjoy neat reversals may tolerate it; anyone who values believable character development will likely find it frustrating.
My verdict:
This was a solid setup undone by twists that ask too much and delivers too little. This is a two-star review because I could not finish it.
Jeffrey Archer is one of the world’s bestselling authors, with sales of over 275 million copies in 97 countries, and is the only author ever to have been a number one bestseller in fiction (twenty times), short stories (four times) and non-fiction (The Prison Diaries). He was born in London, and brought up in the West Country. He gained a Blue in Athletics at Oxford, was President of the University Athletics Club, and went on to run the 100 yards in 9.6 seconds for Great Britain in 1966. Jeffrey has served five years in the House of Commons as a Member of Parliament, and thirty years as a Member of the House of Lords.
He has written 27 novels, 7 sets of short stories, 3 prison diaries, 3 plays (all of which have been performed in London’s West End) and a gospel. His first novel, Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less was sold to 17 countries within a year. It was also made into a successful serial for BBC Radio 4, and was later televised in 1990 by the BBC. He won the Prix Relay du Roman d’Évasion, a prize that rewards a novel in which readers can ‘escape from everyday life’, for his novel Paths of Glory, and the Prix Polar International Prize for the best international thriller of the year, for his novel A Prisoner of Birth. The Clifton Chronicles, a series of seven novels published between 2011-2017, topped the bestseller lists around the world.
Famous for his discipline as a writer who works on up to fourteen drafts of each book, Jeffrey also brings a vast amount of insider knowledge to his books. Whether it’s his own career in politics, his passionate interest in art, or the wealth of fascinating background detail – inspired by the extraordinary network of friends he has built over a lifetime at the heart of Britain’s establishment – his novels provide a fascinating glimpse into a range of closed worlds.
Jeffrey is also an amateur auctioneer, conducting up to 20 charity auctions a year. He has been married to Dame Mary Archer, Chair of the Science Museum Group, for 55 year, and they have two sons, two granddaughters and three grandsons. He splits his time between London, Cambridge and Mallorca – where he writes the first draft of each new novel.
The fifth book In his new William Warwick novels – the first of which, Nothing Ventured, was published in 2019 – is NEXT IN LINE which was published in September 2022.
This book is available to read on Kindle Unlimited.
I would like to thank Carrie Hayes, HTPH Press, and the Coffee Pot Book Club for allowing my readers to have access to this excerpt from Carrie’s latest novel.
Blurb:
New York City, 1937. Seventeen-year-old Marigold McGrath is coming undone.
Her mother is dead. Her father is drawn to dangerous politics. The only place she feels joy is behind a camera — where she can frame the world on her own terms.
After a series of her own missteps, she reinvents herself in London: mentored by a celebrated émigré photographer, photographing Kindertransport children, working alongside Edward R. Murrow. She falls in love with Joop, a charming Dutch student, and shrugs off the war gathering around her.
Then the Blitz begins. Joop vanishes into the Dutch Resistance. And Marigold — who has always preferred to photograph the world as she wishes it were — must finally decide what kind of woman, and what kind of witness, she is willing to become.
A sweeping WWII coming-of-age novel set in wartime London.
For readers of Kristin Hannah, Kate Quinn, and SL Beaumont’sThe War Photographers
Excerpt :
Running through Central Park, ice skates flopping on her shoulders, Marigold slowed to catch her breath. She studied the bridge and the frozen pond. Tall buildings framed the naked trees. Sunshine shone low behind them, casting deep shadows on the snow. She pulled at her left mitten with her teeth and unbuttoned her coat. Inside was her Brownie. It was one of the new ones, with a bellows that folded. She fumbled with its case, groaning at the other mitten hindering her efforts. At last, at last, she looked down into the lens. She moved the aperture slowly to the left and then dialed it back a fraction to the right. The trees, the light, buildings and snow.
She pressed the button and wound the film.
“Gotcha!” Pink mittens wrapped around her eyes.
Marigold staggered forward. “Trude!” She laughed and turned. “Say cheese.”
Trude put her arm in the air, a teasing coquette bundled in scarves with a pompom hat tied under the chin. Marigold blew on her fingers and moved the aperture a fraction one way, then she moved it the other. The light had changed, and Trude was in shadow. Marigold took the picture.
Then as quickly as she’d appeared, Trude ran over the bridge toward the pond. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!”
A dozen other skaters moved across the ice. Girls and boys about their own age, mostly from the neighborhood. Marigold hopped on one foot and then the other. Her earmuffs just weren’t doing the trick and inside the mittens her fingers felt frozen. Trude spread a small blanket onto the snow and patted the spot next to her. “Come on, Mari, you’ll feel so much better when you’re skating.”
Marigold doubted that very much. Lacing up her skates felt like torture and she willed her knees to stop shaking. She watched Trude expertly wrap the laces around her own slim ankles then tie a knot, tucking the laces inside the socks peeping above her skates. Trude clambered onto her knees and stood to make her way to the pond. In a single move she was gliding across the ice, and then crowed, “Haha!” Somehow Trude’s fluid grace made everything seem effortless.
Marigold watched her turn a flawless figure eight as boys skated around her and everything sparkled. “Come on, Mari!” Trude waved her over.
Marigold muttered under her breath, come on, come on, chiding herself not to be so awkward, then responded, “I’m coming!” She took a deep breath and imagined herself the world-renowned figure skating movie star Sonja Henie. She extended her arms as she stepped onto the ice. But her left leg slowly slid out from her while her right leg began to move forward. Marigold’s top half suddenly felt heavy. She waved her arms, her skates stepping forward and backward, her ankles wobbling.
“You can do it,” Trude pirouetted beside her.
“I know, I know I can do it,” Marigold’s heart began thumping. The other skaters danced along the ice.
Trude whispered, “Bend your knees.”
But Marigold’s knees collapsed, pulling her bottom as if by a magnet. “I’m falling though, I am.”
“No, you’re not.” Trude held out her hand, waiting.
“I am, oh my goodness.” It was difficult to breathe, and she was suddenly warm. Her hands met the ice and her feet surrendered.
Trude still waited. “Come on, I’ve got you.” She pulled Marigold up and placed her arm around her waist, then said, “Oh look. There’s Will Carrington with a swishy, dishy friend.”
Marigold froze in horror. Why was she such a klutz?
The boys called from across the ice. “Hello, Fräuleins.”
Trude smiled and called, “Morgen, Herr Carrington. Wie gehts? Why don’t you introduce us to your friend?”
Eagerly the boys skated over. Will said, “This is Chip.”
Chip stopped in front of her, the edge of his skates making a smooth spray of ice. He held his hand out to Marigold. “You can hang on to me if you want. I’ll teach you to skate.” He placed an arm round her waist. She leant against him and he led her across the pond. Perhaps she’d be Sonja Henie after all.
“What grade are you in, Marigold?” Chip’s eyes were heavily fringed and he had a cleft in his chin.
“I’m a senior.”
Smiling, he picked up speed. “Me, too. Is this your first time on the ice?”
“Kind of.” She thought it best not to say that despite years of lessons, she was just a lousy skater. “Where do you go to school, Chip?”
“I’m at Lawrenceville. You know, in New Jersey. It’s a good place, not as many…” He gestured to a couple arguing in Yiddish. “People like that. As in New York.”
Marigold looked up at him again. She hoped he didn’t have the same lapel pin as her dad. Well, she thought to herself, at least he was handsome. Soon the streetlamps were lit. It was time to go home.
“Let’s go to my place,” Will offered. He lived in a brownstone only a block away. Everyone agreed and they went to his house, dumping their coats and skates upon ancient Chinese chairs just inside the door.
The half dozen guests traipsed upstairs, and Will procured some cocoa and cups on a tray from the housekeeper.
“Where is everybody?” Trude asked, by which she meant Will’s younger brothers.
“At the movies with Nanny.” He smiled wickedly. “Come on, let’s play a game.”
Out came a box from under the bed, inside of which was a bottle of rum. Shouts of approval went around as he generously poured it into the cups of hot chocolate. Some of the boys skipped the hot chocolate and drank the booze neat, laughing as it burned their throats and rendered them speechless.
“Let’s play records,” Trude said. Will agreed and she chose the very latest from his collection. A trumpet opened the refrain, soulful and longing, echoed by the orchestra. A man began to sing,
I’ve flown around the world in a plane,
I’ve settled revolutions in Spain, and the North Pole I have charted,
Still, I can’t get started with you . . .
Chip took Marigold’s hand. “May I?”
She moved toward him. His shoulders were square and he swayed as he danced, brushing against her. Marigold stepped closer, sensing the rise of his chest, the flatness of his stomach. She forgot having been frozen and grew toasty from the rum and Chip’s handsome touch. Resting her head upon his shoulder she saw a mouse scurry across the floor. She stifled a gasp. If there was a time not to mind the mice at Will’s house, this was the time. But the mix of the rum, her desire, and the mouse made her woozy.
“’Scuse me!” She squirmed away and stumbled to the powder room. She ran the water and rubbed her face, then looked at herself in the mirror. There was a knock on the door.
“Can I come in?” It was Trude, who promptly lifted her skirt and sat on the toilet. “Did you see the mouse?”
Marigold shuddered. “You know I did.”
Trude finished and joined her at the mirror. “That Chip seems to like you.”
Marigold flicked some water at her friend. “How would you know?”
“Because I have eyes in the back of my head.” Trude refreshed her lipstick and handed it to Marigold. “I’m a regular spy.” She then dropped her voice, “You know, like Mata Hari.”
Marigold studied her now vibrant mouth. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be able to go skating.” The thought of days without Trude felt intolerable.
“Yes, you will.” Trude gestured to Marigold’s lower lip. “You need a bit more.”
Obediently, Marigold reapplied it.
Trude said, “Ask Chip. It’ll be the Ice Capades before you know it.”
Marigold decided not to share what she thought about Chip, murmuring, “And my only model will be my mother.”
“But’s she’s a wonderful model.”
“It’s not the same.” Movies without Trude, skating without Trude, soda fountains without her. Marigold gave herself a little shake. The fresh lipstick would look terrible if she began to cry.
Trude took off her glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief. “You’ll just have to come and visit.” She gave Marigold a cheesy smile in the mirror and held out her hand. “Come on. Back to the party.”
“I don’t want to go out there.” Marigold sighed. “I really hate mice.”
Praise:
“I read a lot ofhistorical novels… this one wasone of my favorites. From the characters to the setting to the actions depicted Ithoroughly enjoyedthe journey—I reallydidn’t want it to end!“ ~ Netgalley Review 5*
“The Making of Marigold McGrathby Carrie Hayes is the tale of a well to do American seventeen year old sent to Europe just prior toWorld War II. The book isexquisitely writtenwith a well paced dialogue. The characters are well formed and interesting. Sprinkled throughout the book are bits from news outlets that help set the larger context for the reader – they are well timed and helpful.Great read,well worth it!“ ~ Goodreads Review 5*
“The Making of Marigold McGrath explores a rarely examined aspect of WWII: the complex journeys to maturity ofyoung adults in war-torn Europeas they seek human connection and meaning. Marigold finds both, using her skills as a photographer to document the stories of refugee children. With gobs ofhistorical referencesandvivid imagery, interlaced withintrigueandromance, The Making of Marigold McGrath is agreat read!“ ~ Goodreads Review 5*
This book is available to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Carrie Hayes
Author Bio:
Carrie’s first two novels, Naked Truth or Equality and Well Dressed Lies, follow the lives of the iconoclastic suffragist sisters, Victoria Woodhull and Tennessee Claflin.
Carrie lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in a rambling Victorian house just outside of New York City.
