A Lord in DisguiseBargain everywhere -£0.99 $0.99 e0.99
I'm not sure that anyone actually reads my posts but in case you are one of the few I will update you with my news.
My beloved husband broke his hip a month ago and was admitted to hospital with uncontrolled diabetes and sepsis. We were told he would not survive but somehow he pulled through.
However, this dementia has got worse and he is no longer mobile. Therefore, he made the heartbreaking decision that he had to go into care that I could no longer look after him safely at home. I always found never go in to care but I have no choice.
He moves today to an excellent home in Clacton on Sea and I'm sure once he settled he will be happier.
The start of a new life for both of us not one I'm looking forward to.
Today I have released my first title for this year – A Lord in Disguise.
It was previously in a Regency romantics box set a year ago.
JD Smith has designed another brilliant new look cover for me.
Best wishes
Fenella J Miller
Fenella Miller
Thursday, 3 January 2019
Wednesday, 5 December 2018
Christmas Greetings To You All
Well, here we are again, Christmas 2018 is fast approaching. I can smugly tell you that all my shopping is done, my Christmas food order and delivery date is booked, the decorations are up and only the presents have to be wrapped.
My family is spread around the world this year – it will only be the second time ever that we don't see my daughter. She now lives in California and my granddaughter is married to a New Yorker and happily settled there.
My niece and great nieces are spending Christmas in New Zealand so I won't see them either.
However, my brother and sister-in-law plus my niece and great niece and nephew are coming round on the Sunday before Christmas (after my husband has gone to bed – would be too much for him) and, of course, my son, daughter-in-law and five year old grandson will be here on the day itself.
So far Billy Blue hasn't wrecked anything – I thought he would be knocking over the tree et cetera but he's been very well behaved.
It has been a busy year writing wise and a very good one for sales. I managed to complete and published eight books – a record for me – but I must admit that not all of them were full-length. Even so, six hundred thousand words isn't bad.
I know what I'm going to start next but that can wait until New Year.
I'd like to take this opportunity to wish you all a Happy Christmas and a peaceful New Year. I would also like to thank you for your continued support – it means a lot to me.
Best wishes
Fenella J Miller
Monday, 29 October 2018
Christmas Ghosts at the Priory - final book for 2018
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mybook.to/ChristmasGhosts |
I hope you enjoy this light hearted Regency ghost story -bargain at £0.99 and $0.99 - even less than one euro too.
Blurb for the book:
Miss Eloise Granville is happy to agree to an arranged marriage with Viscount Forsythe and awaits his arrival at St Cuthbert's Priory with eagerness. Her grandparents assure her he is a personable young man, does not gamble or drink and is content to marry a bride selected for him by his grandfather. That is, until she discovers he is not aware of her infirmity. It is too late to cancel the arrangement as the announcement of their wedding has already been made. When the resident ghosts become angry at her betrothal it puts them both in mortal danger. Will they find love in the midst of this chaos or will circumstances push them apart?
best wishes
Fenella J Miller
Monday, 15 October 2018
Out Today -The Spitfire Girl. Out last week -Belles & Beaux -winter Regency Romantics Boxset.
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OUT TODAY CLICK HERE |
Her is an extract:
Essex
July
1939
‘Well,
Miss Simpson, what do you think?’ Joseph Cross asked as he pointed to the de
Havilland 60 Moth that stood proudly on the worn grass outside the barn that
served as a hanger.
Ellen wanted to hug him but
thought he might not appreciate the gesture. ‘I love it. Is it dual control?’
‘No, but it has the usual
two seats so can take a passenger.’
‘Good – I’ve got more than
enough pupils to teach. Since the government subsidy last year every Tom, Dick
and Harry wants to learn to fly.’
‘I hope you don’t expect
me to pay you any extra, young lady. I reckon you owe me far more than your
wages would have been for all the lessons and hours you’ve spent flying my
aircraft over the past five years.’
She put her hands on her
hips. ‘Giving my brothers and me lessons at your Flying Club couldn’t have been
as much as the rent you would have had to pay to use my father’s farms and
fields.’ He was about to interrupt but she continued. ‘Not forgetting the fact
that Dad bought the first aircraft and both Neil and George acted as
instructors until they joined the RAF.’
He scowled but she wasn’t
fooled for a minute. ‘The cost of one lesson is usually two pounds – the three
of you never paid a penny…’
‘Joe, I don’t want to
stand here arguing anymore. I want to take her up before it gets too hot. Are
you coming with me or can I go solo?’
‘Circuits and bumps only,
my girl, no flying off into the wild blue yonder. There are three new enquiries
to be dealt with in the office – I want you to sort those out this morning.’
The other aircraft the
flying club owned were a Swallow and a Gypsy Moth. Both were fitted with dual
controls. Joe had several clients who liked to go up on their own and pootle
about until the fuel ran out. This de Havilland had been bought to satisfy
those clients.
Sidney, the ground
engineer, and the only other full-time employee, wandered out from the hanger.
‘Nice little machine, Ellie, sweet as a nut. You going to take it up for a
spin?’
‘If that’s all right with
you, I’d love to. I’ll not be long – I just want to get the feel of it for
myself.’
‘The bloke what brought it
said it flies like the Gypsy only a bit faster. You’ll have no problem – you’re
a natural. I remember your first solo flight when you were no more than a
nipper…’
Joe poked his head out of
the office. ‘No time for reminiscing, Sid, let her get on with it. Just had a
bell and we’ve got a new pupil coming in an hour.’
‘Sorry, guv, I’ll not hold
her up.’
She collected her helmet
and goggles and scrambled into the cockpit. Even though the weather was warm
she needed her flying jacket on over her dungarees. It got a bit nippy at a
thousand feet above the land. After doing her pre-flight checks she taxied into
position on the grass runway and took off.
An uneventful forty-five
minutes later she landed smoothly and headed for the office to catch up with
the paperwork. The new pupil, a middle-aged bank manager, decided after a
couple of circuits of the field that he didn’t want to learn to fly after all.
As they’d only been in the air for a quarter of an hour there was no charge.
By the time her last pupil
left the airfield it was almost six o’clock. Often they had to work until it
was too dark to fly, but tonight they’d finished early. Ellen left Sid to lock
up and jumped onto her bicycle. At least in the summer Dad didn’t come in for
his tea until late so she wouldn’t have missed her meal.
She pedalled furiously
down the track, swerving instinctively around the dips and ruts, covering the
mile in record time. She skidded into the yard, sending half a dozen chickens
squawking into the air in protest, and tossed her bike against the wall.
With luck she’d have time
to wash before her parents sat down to eat. It had taken Mum months to get used
to seeing her only daughter dressed in slacks or dungarees. She might be a
farmer’s wife now, but she’d come from a grand family and had very high
standards.
The fact that Mum had been
disowned when she’d married a farmer should have softened her but instead,
according to Dad, it had made her even more determined to bring her children up
as though they were landed gentry and not the children of a farmer.
After a quick sluice in
the scullery Ellie headed to the kitchen – she was about to open the door when
she realised the voices she’d heard were coming from the seldom used front
parlour. Mum insisted on calling it the drawing room, but no one else did.
This must mean they had
guests. She looked down at her scruffy oil-stained dungarees and wondered if
she had time to nip upstairs and put on something more respectable.
Unfortunately, her mother must have heard her come in.
‘Ellen, you are very late
this evening. Had you forgotten Neil has a twenty-four hour pass?’
She was pretty sure this
was the first she’d heard of it but having her oldest brother home was a
wonderful surprise. She didn’t stop to think why this meant they were in the
parlour, and burst in.
‘Hello, little sister,
I’ve brought a chum along. Let me introduce you to Gregory Dunlop.’
Only then did she become
aware of the second RAF uniformed young man staring at her with open
admiration. He was a bit shorter than Neil, but broader in the shoulders, with
corn coloured hair and startlingly blue eyes.
‘I’m pleased to meet you,
Flying Officer Dunlop.’ She wasn’t sure if she should offer her hand as despite
her best efforts it was far from clean.
He stepped closer and held
out his and she had no option but to take it. ‘I’ve heard so much about you,
Miss Simpson, and have been pestering your brother for an invitation in order
to meet you for myself.’
His grip was firm, his
hand smoother than hers – but what caught her attention was his upper crust
accent. ‘I’m sorry to appear in my work clothes. If you don’t mind waiting a
few more minutes I’ll pop upstairs and change into something more suitable for
the occasion.’
‘Please, don’t worry on my
account. I think you look perfectly splendid just as you are.’
He seemed reluctant to
release her hand but she pulled it away firmly. He was a very attractive man
and was obviously interested in her, but she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend.
‘Run along, Ellen, you’ve
got plenty of time to put on a frock as your father has only just come in
himself. We are having a cold collation so nothing will be spoiled by waiting
for another quarter of an hour.’
She smiled at her brother
in resignation and he winked. They both knew there was no point in arguing once
their mother had made up her mind.
She met her father in the
passageway. ‘Have you got to change as well, Ellie? She told me at lunchtime
I’ve got to put on something smart.’
‘It must be because of
Neil’s friend. He certainly sounds very posh.’ She pushed open her bedroom door
and was about to go in when he replied.
‘Seems a lot of fuss for
nothing but easier to give in than put up with a week of black looks and sour
faces.’ He shook his head sadly and went into the room he no longer shared with
her mother. Ellie wished her parents had a happier relationship.
If there was one thing
she’d learned, by watching the disintegration of what must once have been a
happy union, it was this: Don’t marry for love as it doesn’t last. If she ever
took the plunge it would be with a man she respected, liked and who shared her
outlook on life.
Her mother had told her to
put on a frock but she rebelled. She didn’t wish to impress their visitor so
would come down in what she usually wore – slacks and blouse. The only time she
put on a frock was when she was forced to attend church. Most Sundays she had
the excuse that she had to work at the airfield.
She checked her face was
oil free and ran a brush through her hair. Satisfied she was presentable she
hurried downstairs eager to catch up on Neil’s news. George, her other brother,
hadn’t been home since January and she was desperate to hear how he was doing.
Her mother pursed her lips
when Ellie came in. ‘Is your father coming, Ellen?’
‘I don’t know, Mum, but I
don’t think he’ll be long.’ She joined her brother by the open window, leaving
his friend to entertain her mother.
‘I wish you wouldn’t
deliberately provoke her, Ellie. Why won’t you call her Mother? You know how
much she dislikes being called Mum, especially in front of strangers.’
She shrugged. ‘Whatever
she was in the past, now she’s just a farmer’s wife. Have you finished your
training?’
He grinned and pointed to
the wings on his uniform. ‘I have, didn’t you see these? George is still in
Scotland – seems he pranged a Moth and needs longer up there.’
‘He obviously didn’t hurt
himself or you wouldn’t be so jolly. Do you know where you’re going to be
stationed?’
Their conversation was
interrupted by the arrival of her father looking uncomfortable in a collar and
tie. After he was introduced to the guest her mother clapped her hands as if
wishing to attract the attention of a crowd of children.
‘We shall go in to dine
now that we are all here.’
Ellie hid her smile at her
mother’s pretentiousness behind her hand. Ham and salad hardly deserved such an
introduction.
When her father mentioned
the likelihood of there being a war her mother insisted that this was not a
suitable topic of conversation at the dinner table. No one was particularly
interested in discussing the weather and an uneasy silence fell.
‘We’ve got another
aircraft, Dad. I took her up and…’
Her mother glared at her.
‘I’m sure that Flying Officer Dunlop doesn’t want to hear about your highly
unsuitable employment. A young lady should be interested in more feminine
things, don’t you agree, Mr Dunlop?’
The young man nodded
solemnly. ‘I’m sure that most girls would prefer to talk about fashion or
flowers but your daughter is different. I’ve never met a female pilot before
and am most impressed. How many hours solo do you have now, Miss Simpson?’
‘Please call me Ellie,
everyone else does.’
‘And you must call me
Greg.’
‘Well, Greg, to answer
your question, I’ve been flying since I was twelve – six years now – and got my
A licence when I was fourteen and my instructor’s certificate when I was
sixteen. I’ve logged more than twelve hundred hours now.’
‘Good God! That’s a damn
sight more than I have.’ He couldn’t fail to hear her mother’s horrified gasp.
Instead of being embarrassed he smiled at her. ‘I apologise for my appalling
language, Mrs Simpson, I do hope you will forgive me.’
‘Apology accepted. I’ll
say no more on the matter.’
He turned to Ellie. ‘I
want to hear how you manage in poor weather conditions and hope you will talk
to me before we leave tomorrow morning.’
Before she could answer
she was instructed to clear the table and fetch the dessert. Obediently she
pushed her chair back and began to collect the plates. When Greg made a move to
stand up she shook her head.
Clearing the table was a
woman’s job, as well all the other domestic duties that she did her best to
avoid. Pudding was a sherry trifle accompanied by a jug of thick, fresh cream
from their dairy herd. She placed the large glass bowl on the tray and put the
cream beside it. The ham salad, again all home-grown, had been excellent but
this would be even better.
CLICK HERE
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£1.99 FOR FOUR BOOKS -BARGAIN! |
Fenella J Miller
Tuesday, 9 October 2018
Jean Fullerton - A Ration Book Christmas
Today I'm delighted to welcome the wonderful Jean Fullerton to my blog. Jean, can you tell us how you
came to be an East End historical writer?
Hi Fenella, and thanks for inviting me onto your blog. I think to be totally honest from the moment Roger Moore rode over the hill on that white horse in Ivanhoe if I was going to be anything it would be historical but why are my books are set in East London? Because the book that got me my agent and first contract, No Cure for Love, was set there and the rest as they say is history.
What eras do you write in?
I write 20th century at the moment but I have written in
a variety of many different eras and locations from the 17th century Caribbean
and 18th century during the War of Independence.
Would you prefer to write
about another city?
I wouldn’t necessarily prefer to but I wouldn’t mind. I think
Rome in any era would hold a 1000 stories as would Venice, Glasgow or New York.
Where do you see yourself as
a writer in five years’ time?
Still with my lovely agent Laura and my supportive
publishers Atlantic and hopefully with another 6-8 titles to my name. However,
more importantly I’d love to have a greater number of readers enjoying my stories.
If you could be another
writer who would it be and why?
Difficult one as I’m quite happy with my life as a writer
but I wouldn’t mind being Bernard Cornwall as so many of his books have been
adapted for TV and Film
Which is more important do
you think - critical acclaim, readers or royalties?
I’m not interested in critical acclamation at all and the
money is nice but the real reason I write is for the lovely emails and letters
from readers who love my story. That’s what keeps me going when I find a
scene’s not going right, or I’m tied up in my own plot.
Who is your favourite writer
and why?
Difficult to say really as I love so many. If pushed, I’d
have to say Bernard Cornwall and Elizabeth Chadwick for historical. I’ve
enjoyed all of William Ryan’s Korolev detective series and I enjoy Julie
Cohen and Carole Matthews contemporary books.
Is the cover or the title
more important?
Cover every time. The wrong cover can bury your book and
destroy your sales.
Finally: Tips for those just beginning their writing
journey.
What is the most crucial
thing for a new writer to understand?
They aren’t undiscovered geniuses. You may have a talent
for storytelling but you have to learn the craft of writing it.
Should you write about what
you know?
No or half the most brilliant books would never have been
written, after all how would the Brontes have managed, but if you are writing about something outside
your experience then please do your research.
Some might argue but I’d say ‘yes’ as they have access to
and deal with the publishing world all the time. They are also totally on your
side and although they do take their commission they don’t earn a penny until
you do and I don’t begrudge a penny of what goes to my lovely agent Laura.
If you were just starting out
would you do anything differently?
Not be as accepting of what editors
told me and make my publicity department do more.
Thanks for taking the time to ask me
some very interesting question, Fenella.
Thank you for taking the time to answer them. I'm sure anyone who drops by will be fascinated to be able to dip into the mind of a writer.
Ration Book
Christmas. In the darkest
days of the Blitz, Christmas is more important than ever.
With Christmas 1940 approaching, the Brogan family of London's
East End are braving the horrors of the Blitz. With the men away fighting for
King and Country and the ever-present dangers of the German Luftwaffe's nightly
reign of death and destruction, the family must do all they can to keep a stiff
upper lip.
For
Jo, the youngest of the Brogan sisters, the perils of war also offer a
new-found freedom. Jo falls in love with Tommy, a man known for his dangerous
reputation as much as his charm. But as the falling bombs devastate their
neighbourhood and rationing begins to bite, will the Brogans manage to pull
together a traditional family Christmas? And will Jo find the love and security
she seeks in a time of such grave peril?
Bio:
Jean Fullerton is the author of eleven novels all set in East London where she
was born. She worked as a district nurse in East London for over twenty-five
years and is now a full-time author.
She
is a qualified District and Queen's nurse who has spent most of her working
life in the East End of London, first as a Sister in charge of a team, and then
as a District Nurse tutor.
She
has won multiple awards and all her books are set in her native East
London. Her latest book, A RATION BOOK
CHRISTMAS, is the second in her East London WW2 Ration Book series featuring
sisters Mattie, Jo and Cathy Brogan and their family.
Website:
http://jeanfullerton.com/
Twitter: @JeanFullerton_
Monday, 1 October 2018
Too soon for Christmas?
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£0.99/$0.99 Click Here |
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Out in November. |
Like many writers I have to think about Christmas in the spring when I write my two Christmas books. I then forget about it until September. I always think that the start of Strictly Come Dancing as the beginning of the run into the festive season.
I can't get enough of the sparkly wonderfulness!
My beloved husband who has vascular dementia loves it as much as I do. Even though he has no language to speak of, and is very confused, when I showed him the Radio Times with all the pictures of the couples competing he was very excited and spent an hour looking at them. As soon as he hears the music he starts laughing. I watch these programs live, including It Takes Two, and then watch them again with him the following day.
The shops are already brimming with baubles, glitter and Christmas nonsense – I believe you can't have too many Christmas cushions so bought two more – these not only have Father Christmas they also have battery operated lights!
Christmas used to be more meaningful when I was a churchgoer – but even though I'm no longer religious I do believe that there is such a thing as Christmas spirit. It's a time for forgiving, for being with family, for celebrating everything that's good and putting aside our problems for a few days.
My decorations go up on the first day of December. It's going to be fun trying to keep our young British Shorthair, Billy-Blue, away from the tree. No doubt he'll send most of the things flying and I'll end up with none of the usual ornaments and so on on the coffee table.
As far as I'm concerned Christmas can be talked about from September, gifts and cards can be purchased from now, and the whole of December can be given over to the excesses of the season.
I won't wish you all a happy Christmas this month – although I did wish the people who run the garden centre the greetings of the season last Thursday as I won't be seeing them again until the spring.
Best wishes
Fenella J Miller
Saturday, 1 September 2018
The Research Books I Couldn't Do Without.
I have literally hundreds of research books in my study as well as a bookcase in the spare bedroom filled with books covering the three eras that I write – Regency, Victorian and World War II.
Like my wardrobe, which is full of clothes I've had for years and haven't worn, my bookshelves are full of books I've had for years and never opened.
However, there are several that I use all the time.

'Walking Jane Austen's London' by Louise Allen is invaluable when I'm writing a Regency set in London. I also have her 'The Georgian Seaside' which I shall use when I write next summer's book for the Regency romantic box set. This box that will be books set at the seaside.

I also use the 'A-Z of Regency London' and the 'A-Z of Victorian London' as well as the facsimile copy of an original A-Z of 1940s London.
My go to books for World War II are 'Wartime Britain' by Juliet Gardner and 'How We Lived Then' by Norman Longmate. I've also found 'Christmas on the Home Front' by Mike Brown essential with several of my World War II sagas.
Of course I have every autobiography written by female ATA pilots as well as a dozen or more books about the RAF and several biographies by Spitfire pilots.
I also find it useful to read good fiction, especially the three books by Derek Robinson about the RAF.
I'd be interested to know what research books you would never take off on your shelves.
Like my wardrobe, which is full of clothes I've had for years and haven't worn, my bookshelves are full of books I've had for years and never opened.
However, there are several that I use all the time.




My go to books for World War II are 'Wartime Britain' by Juliet Gardner and 'How We Lived Then' by Norman Longmate. I've also found 'Christmas on the Home Front' by Mike Brown essential with several of my World War II sagas.
Of course I have every autobiography written by female ATA pilots as well as a dozen or more books about the RAF and several biographies by Spitfire pilots.
I also find it useful to read good fiction, especially the three books by Derek Robinson about the RAF.
I'd be interested to know what research books you would never take off on your shelves.
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mybook.to/DukeSeries-Six £1.99 /$2.99 best wishes Fenella J Miller |
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