genius
loci, the spirit of the place
Many
thanks to Sherry for hosting me on her blog and giving me an opportunity to
share my novels with you.
It's a pleasure to have you here Lizzie. Thank you.
Readers have told me that they love my descriptions of Scotland, Norfolk and Wisconsin. And, I must
admit, often a location is the starting place for my novels and then the characters appear in my head, crowding in and demanding
that I write down their story. I hope these examples make you want to read
more.
Each hyperlink takes you to the relevant Amazon page
where you can - read a FREE extract in kindle/share/buy
Tall, Dark and Kilted - Notting Hill Meets Monarch of the Glen
The music hit Fliss as
she rounded the corner of Elgin Crescent, Notting Hill. The sugared almond pink
and yellow houses almost vibrating in the late May evening as I Predict a Riot blasted out from an
open window half way down the street.
From their vantage point, the mountains
were hidden by trees and Fliss could see soft, rounded hills which swept all
the way down to a large loch. The colours were dazzling; the green of the hills
and trees, the blue sky reflected in the deeper blue of the loch and the ochre
of the sandy beach which gave way to paler sand near a pebble path. The
shoreline dipped in and out of the expanse of water and in the distance, at
vanishing point, the opposing shores appeared to link hands, cutting the loch off from the sea.
* * * *
Charlee glanced over the low hedges and dun-coloured fields stretching towards the salt marshes where the sea was a black line on the horizon. There was a stripped back beauty to the place and the flocks of birds heading for the feeding grounds down by the shoreline ensured the view was an ever-changing tapestry. Perhaps, here on the salt marsh, where the wind sighed through the reeds and stirred the dried pods of the alexanders, they could be honest with one another. Confront those feelings
* * * *
The Narrows were calm, reflecting the
harbour cottages of Jamestoun on their
glassy surface and making the fishing port seem twice as big as in reality.
Issy loved the red tiled roofs, the whitewashed walls and the three-storey
granite building which had formerly housed the local Customs and Excise. She
could picture the old railway lines which dissected the cobbled road. Back in
the day, when Jamestoun had been a
thriving fishing port, langoustines were landed first thing in the morning,
packed onto ice and sent down to London, via Oban, to grace the dinner plates
in swanky hotels. Now the harbour was mostly filled with private yachts and the
occasional fishing boat which took tourists out to the bird colonies in high
summer. The brown hills beyond the harbour could look bleak in the winter, but
today the sun warmed them, picking out the old fort (now almost covered in
vegetation), built after the ’45 Rebellion to quell the unruly Scots.
The road swung inland where, in Victorian
times, it had been blasted through a small mountain. ‘The Faerie Falls,’ Issy
said, nodding towards it with her head towards
a torrent of brown, peaty water cascading over rocks. ‘They say that the wee
folk live behind its waters, but I’ve never seen them.’
* * * *
Henri gazed out across the loch, shrouded
in a shifting veil of low-lying mist. The castle appeared to float above it and
the world beyond seemed unreal, until she spotted Lachlan piloting his boat
towards Tèarmannair. His head and shoulders visible above the swirling fog. A
heron skimmed over the shifting mist, its spindly limbs trailing behind it as
it hunted for breakfast.
At night, it was easy to imagine the castle
was a ship sailing untroubled across a wide ocean, the only light visible the
beacon on the jetty at the far side of the loch.
Trees on the margin of the loch were
reflected as a perfect mirror image of themselves, in ochre, vermillion and
acid yellow. Pushing her reading glasses on top of her head, Henri focused on
the middle distance where two small islands, topped by scrubby vegetation and
gnarled trees bent over by the prevailing wind, gave perspective to the view.
Beyond that, round, green hills rose towards the sky, and beyond them were
craggy mountains with snow on the peaks.
* * * *
Closing the door behind her, India sank
down on the padded window seat and, drawing her knees up, pulled a cushion
towards her, hugging it for comfort. Resting her head back against the heavy
shutters she looked out into a vermilion and gold sunset where islands and
peninsulas jutted out into the bay. However, the beauty of the scene was lost.
All she could think of was how different the sunset must look from MacFarlane’s
beach hut, thousands of miles away. Cool air blew off the lake and through the
open window, stirring the muslin draping her cast iron four poster bed. Getting
up to wipe her eyes on the corner of her pashmina, she caught sight of herself
in the cheval mirror. Backlit by the sunset, with filmy drapes billowing around
her, she seemed as unsubstantial as a ghost. A mere shadow of her former self.
Dark circles under her eyes, skin without its youthful luminescence, violet
eyes huge in her pale face. How had this come to pass?
* * * *
I
hope you have enjoyed these extracts and
the photos which accompany them. If you’d
like to learn more about me and my novels, do get in touch via the links below.
Author bio with links -
After
teaching her 1000th pupil and working as a deputy head teacher in a large
primary school, Lizzie decided to pursue her first love: writing. She joined
the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Scheme, wrote Tall,
Dark and Kilted (2012), quickly followed by Boot
Camp Bride. She went on to publish Scotch
on the Rocks, which achieved Best Seller status
within two weeks of appearing on Amazon and her next novel, Girl
in the Castle, reached #3 in the Amazon charts.
Lizzie is a founder member of indie publishing group – New Romantics Press, and
has co-hosted author events at Aspinall, St Pancras and Waterstones,
Kensington, talking about the research which underpins her novels. Lizzie
latest romance Take Me, I’m Yours is set in Wisconsin, a part of the USA which she adores.
This novel also achieved BEST SELLER status >travel>USA. She has further
Scottish-themed romances planned and spends most of the summer touring the
Scottish Highlands researching men in kilts. What’s not to like? As for the
years she spent as a teacher, they haven’t quite gone to waste. She is building
a reputation as a go-to speaker on indie publishing, and how to plan, write,
and publish a debut novel. She is currently working on #6 - a road trip ‘movie’
where two warring guardians are forced to join forces and set off in hot
pursuit after a runaway niece and son.
Lizzie lives in Leicestershire (UK) with her husband, David.
She loves to
hear from readers, so do get in touch . . .
Lizzie’s
Links
website: www.lizzielamb.co.uk
Newsletter - http://tinyurl.com/ELNL-2016
Linked
in: uk.linkedin.com/pub/lizzie-lamb/18/194/202/
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/lizzielamb/
2 comments:
Many thanks for hosting me on your wonderful blog today, Sherry. Looking at those photos brought back so many happy memories. But I'd better not rest for too long. Got another one to write.
It's a pleasure to have you here Lizzie. Hope you have lots of fun writing your new book :-)
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