Tuesday, August 01, 2017

Release Day - Bones of our Fathers by Elin Gregory

Hello everyone! The lovely, beautiful, Welsh (I think she's Welsh - she lives there!) maid ELIN GREGORY is here today with her new book "Bones of our Fathers".
I have read every one of Elin's books. And I have loved them from her very debut. She has a sympathetic style of writing and by that I mean the reader just falls in love with the characters immediately, be they good or bad. And, truth to tell, I never want the books to end. 

Elin  has such an enviable writing style which is easy to read and yet can pack a punch. Every book (and I adored "On A Lea Shore", "Eleventh Hour" etc., etc.) is a perfect read and I say that honestly.

Right. Let's get down to Elin's new book, "The Bones of Our Fathers". I read this as a draft so won't do a proper review until I've read the final version. But the draft knocked me away: typical Elin Gregory's wonderful, flowing prose and delightful characters (even the badass). Now, every book she gets published will have a mug like the one on the cover (above) but with a different message. Let me give you a hint for an alternative message to this one: Museum Curators do it in JCBs (wink).

Over to Elin:

The Bones of Our Fathers
By Elin Gregory
Available 1st August 2017 from Manifold Press
Approx 79,500 words
ISBN  9781908312549

Blurb:

Malcolm Bright, brand new museum curator in a small Welsh Border town, is a little lonely until – acting as emergency archaeological consultant on a new housing development – he crosses the path of Rob Escley, aka Dirty Rob, who makes Mal’s earth move in more ways than one.

Then Rob discovers something wonderful, and together they must combat greedy developers and a treasure hunter determined to get his hands on the find. Are desperate measures justified to save the bones of our fathers? Will Dirty Rob live up to his reputation? Do museum curators really do it meticulously?

Answers must be found for the sake of Mal’s future, his happiness and his heart.

Buy Links:


 Excerpt:


As Mal trotted down the narrow stairs from the attic to the lower landing it suddenly occurred to him who might have been making Betty giggle and who she might trust enough to let them loose on the upper corridors of the museum. So he wasn’t altogether surprised to glimpse a yellow hard hat through the wrought iron of the bannisters.

“Hey.” Mal leaned over the rail and grinned as Rob looked up at him. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. No pool table but I can make you a coffee.”

Rob gave him a beaming smile. “Tea and you’re on,” he said and followed Mal into the little room they had set aside as a staff kitchen.

Mal took a couple of mugs down from the cupboard and turned on the kettle. “I think I thanked you all for last Thursday, didn’t I? It was good fun.”

“Yeah,” Rob’s grin sounded in his voice but Mal turned to look at him anyway just for the pleasure of it. Rob had taken off his hard hat and put it on the window sill and was leaning against the edge of the window, hands in his pockets and looking out over the patch of grass and shrubs that was all the museum could afford of a garden these days. With his high vis jacket and coveralls undone to show a bright segment of printed tee shirt—Mal could see the “-oun-arm-lu” of “Young Farmer’s Club” and a bit of a bull logo—and with long legs in rigger boots crossed casually at the ankle, he looked both wildly out of place and very much at home. Mal really envied his ease. Here was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and was confident of getting it.

And what he wants right now – apart from tea – is me!” Mal found that a very satisfying thought.

The kettle whistled and Mal poured the boiling water into the mugs, soaking the special pyramidal bags that Sharon insisted made much better tea than any other variety. Mal stooped to open the fridge.

“Milk?” Malcolm asked. “Sugar?” Rob had stopped looking out of the window and was watching Mal. Mal could feel it.

“I never say no to a bit of sugar. Bit o’ milk too. Just enough to take the edge off.”

Mal grinned and made the tea then turned and offered Rob his mug.

“Thanks,” Rob said then lifted the mug a bit to read the printing on the side. “Museum curators do it meticulously? Oh. My. God. I hope that’s true.”

Mal snorted. “It’s part of the job to keep the paperwork in good order.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Mal just smiled his agreement. “Come through to my office,” he suggested.


Elin's bio:


Logo by Catherine Dair


Elin Gregory lives in South Wales and has been making stuff up since she learned to talk. Writing has always had to take second place to work and family but, slowly, she is finishing the many novels on her hard drive and actually trying to do something useful with them.
Historical subjects predominate. She has written about ancient Greek sculptors, 18th century seafarers but also about modern men who change shape at will and how echoes of the past can be heard in the present. Heroes tend to be hard as nails but capable of tenderness when circumstances allow.
There are always new works on the go and she is currently writing more 1930s spies, adding to a series of contemporary romances and doing background reading for stories set in Roman Britain and in WW2.