Thank you so much for having me today. I hope
you and your readers enjoy learning a little about my latest release, Where Dragonflies Hover, a contemporary
story that also features a WWI story, when Lexi, the main character finds a
diary written by a wartime nurse.
Where Dragonflies Hover blurb:
Sometimes a
glimpse into the past can help make sense of the future …
Everyone thinks Lexi is crazy when she falls
in love with Hollingsworth House – a crumbling old Georgian mansion in Yorkshire
– and nobody more so than her husband, Dylan. But there’s something very
special about the place, and Lexi can sense it.
Whilst exploring the grounds she stumbles
across an old diary and, within its pages, she meets Allie – an Australian
nurse working in France during the First World War.
Lexi finally realises her dream of buying
Hollingsworth but her obsession with the house leaves her marriage in tatters.
In the lonely nights that follow, Allie’s diary becomes Lexi’s companion,
comforting her in moments of darkness and pain. And as Lexi reads, the nurse’s
scandalous connection to the house is revealed …
Excerpt:
The late
sunshine enveloped the house in a golden glow. Again, it seemed to call to her,
begging for attention. A path on the left of the drive looked inviting as it
meandered through a small strand of poplars. Lexi grabbed her keys, locked the
car and took off to explore again. She had nothing to rush home to now, and if
she got caught for trespassing, then so be it.
The
overgrown pathway brought her out on the far side of the grounds near the end
of a small lake. She gazed over the water towards the back of the house and
noticed a paved terrace area. From there the lawn then sloped down to the
water. She’d not been around the back before and fell even more in love with
the property. She could imagine the serenity of sipping a cool drink on a hot
summer’s day and looking out over the lake.
Lexi stepped
out along the bank. A lone duck swam by, its movement serene on the glassy,
dark surface. This side of the lake was in shadow from large pine trees, and
she stumbled on fallen pinecones hidden in the long grass. On the opposite side
of the water were some small buildings, a garage, fruit trees in early blossom,
and an overgrown vegetable patch, complete with a broken, rejected-looking
scarecrow.
She wandered
over to a narrow shed on her left and peered through its sole, dirty window.
Unable to make out much in the dimness, she walked around to the front and was
surprised when she was able to pull the bolt back on the door. Why didn’t
people lock things? A covered rowboat took up most of the space inside. She
smiled, seeing herself rowing it on the lake. Growing more excited, Lexi edged
around it to peer at the workbenches and the odd assortment of tools and
useless things one found in abandoned sheds. It was like treasure hunting in an
antique shop. She used to love doing that with her grandfather.
She glanced
about and spied a dusty painting leaning against the wall. The scene was of a
child and a brown dog. Behind the canvas were more paintings, some framed, some
not. Lexi flicked through them. The ones that caught her attention she took out
and set aside.
She looked
for somewhere to sit and study the paintings. A small tin trunk wedged under a
workbench seemed the only offering. Thinking it empty, she went to tug it out,
but it remained fast.
Using both
hands, she heaved it out and was showered in a puff of dust. Squatting down,
she inspected the latch that was held tight with a small lock. ‘Why are you
locked?’ she murmured. The shed was open to anyone passing by, yet this ugly
little chest had a lock on it. The trunk was nothing special, plain and in
parts rusted. No ornament or writing hinted at its use.
Intrigued,
she grabbed a hammer from the workbench, but then hesitated. She had no right
to open someone else’s property. Lexi closed her eyes momentarily. What was she thinking of breaking into the
trunk? What am I doing? Never had she broken the law and here she
was guilty of trespassing and breaking and entering! She looked around the rowboat
as though expecting someone to jump out and arrest her.
Something
inside urged her on. She knew she couldn’t stop now. Sucking in a deep breath,
she bent and hit the lock hard. The ringing sound was loud in the quiet
serenity of the garden. The metal dented and with another few solid whacks the
lock gave.
Shivers of
excitement tingled along her skin. Gently, she eased up the lid.
Buy links:
Also available in Apple ibooks, etc.
About Annemarie Brear:
Australian born Annemarie Brear writes historical novels and
modern romances. Currently living in England, her passions, apart from writing,
are reading, researching, genealogy, roaming historical sites, buying books and
gardening. She is an author of historical women's fiction, contemporary romance
and several short stories. Also lover of chocolate, good movies and her
family!
