Related to: 'Find your local book shop'


A Killing Moon (DI Damen Brook 5)

Steven Dunne
Steven Dunne

For the young woman kidnapped on her way home from the pub, the nightmare is about to begin....Weeks after Caitlin Kinnear goes missing, the police are unable to break her case. Worse they are not even certain harm has come to her. But determined to pursue all leads, DI Damen Brook and his team begin to trawl through the murky world of cheap migrant labour. Convinced that the answers lie hidden within its depths, Brook soon begins to realise Caitlin is in terrible danger.When the body of another young girl turns up it becomes clear that Caitlin's abduction might not be an isolated incident and the race is on to save her. But with time running out, can Brook put the pieces together and find Caitlin before it's too late?

Headline Review

Crowther & Westerman Omnibus: Instruments of Darkness, Anatomy of Murder, Island of Bones

Imogen Robertson
Imogen Robertson

Book 1: INSTRUMENTS OF DARKNESSIn the year 1780, Harriet Westerman, the unconventional mistress of a country house in Sussex, finds a dead man on her grounds with a ring bearing the crest of the nearby Thornleigh Hall in his pocket. With the help of a reclusive local anatomist, Gabriel Crowther, Harriet resolves to find the murderer.Book 2: ANATOMY OF MURDERLondon, 1781. Harriet Westerman anxiously awaits news of her husband, a ship's captain who has been gravely injured in the king's naval battles with France. As London's streets seethe with rumour, a body is dragged from the murky waters of the Thames.Book 3: ISLAND OF BONESCumbria, 1783. The tomb of the first Earl of Greta should have lain undisturbed on its island of bones for three hundred years.When idle curiosity opens the stone lid, however, inside is one body too many.

Headline Review

Anatomy of Murder

Imogen Robertson
Imogen Robertson

'Makes you want to read every word...the plot is serpentine and satisfying, with enough false trails and distractions to create a genuine mystery' Telegraph The streets of London seethe with rumour and conspiracy as the King's navy battles the French at sea. And while the banks of the Thames swarm with life, a body is dragged from its murky waters. In another part of town, where the air seems sweeter, the privileged enjoy a brighter world of complacent wealth and intoxicating celebrity. But as society revels in its pleasures, a darker plot is played out.Yet some are willing to look below the surface to the unsavoury depths. Mrs Harriet Westerman believes passionately in justice. Reclusive anatomist Gabriel Crowther is fascinated by the bones beneath the skin. Invited to seek the true nature of the dead man, they risk censure for an unnatural interest in murder. But when the safety of a nation is at stake, personal reputation must give way to the pursuit of reason and truth.

Tinder Press

When God was a Rabbit

Sarah Winman
Sarah Winman
Headline Review

My Lover's Lover

Maggie O'Farrell
Maggie O'Farrell

A compulsive tale of betrayal and its impact upon a group of flatmates and lovers, Maggie O'Farrell's second novel does not disappoint. With the sensuality, passion and emotional acuteness which characterised her debut, she has written a gripping exploration of the ambivalence at the heart of intimate relationships, a keenly observed portrayal of shifting metropolitan lives and a superbly imagined story of a haunting. When Lily moves into Marcus's flat and plunges headlong into a relationship, she must contend not merely with the disapproval of flatmate Aidan, but with a more intangible, hostile presence. Could it be that Sinead, Marcus's ex, is trying to communicate with her? When Lily begins to 'see' Sinead first about the flat, and then on the streets of London, she must question not merely her sanity, but whether the man she loves is someone she can, or indeed ought to live with at all.

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ebook of the month

An exclusive extract featuring New York Times bestseller John Lescroart's most popular character, lawyer Dismas Hardy, in his most personal case so far.

POWER by Debra Webb

eBook of the month

Evil will follow you… Wherever you go. Can you find a way to hide? If you like Karen Rose, Katia Lief or Mary Burton you’ll love Debra Webb’s bestselling Faces of Evil series. Click below to read the first chapter of the third instalment, POWER, published for the first time in the UK this month.


eBook of Month

Evil will follow you… Wherever you go. Can you find a way to hide? If you like Karen Rose, Katia Lief or Mary Burton you’ll love Debra Webb’s bestselling Faces of Evil series. Click below to read the first chapter of the third instalment, POWER, published for the first time in the UK this month.



Bookshop signing @ 3.30pm WHSmith Newport Gwent, 166-167 Commercial Street, Newport NP20 1QY Click here for more info

Privacy Notice


David Suchet will be going on tour this Autumn to promote Poirot and Me - click details for dates and locations!

Posted by John Wordsworth, Editorial

Blog: The 'What If' Genre

The genre has always had its core fans, but it seems to me that more and more people are embracing their inner geek these days. Readers who previously would not have been seen dead in the Sci-Fi section of their local bookshop are picking up novels like RIVERS OF LONDON, NEVER LET ME GO and A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES. There are various theories as to why this is happening: during the downturn, we’re all looking for a bit of healthy escapism; films and TV programmes like The Lord of the Rings, Inception, True Blood and Game of Thrones have brought the genre back into the mainstream; the Harry Potter and Twilight series have converted an entire generation; genre publishers are moving away from the kind of covers that were, frankly, a bit embarrassing to be seen with on the Tube. In truth, it’s probably a combination of all of these. But whatever the reason, I’m happy. If you’re someone who still thinks that the genre is all one-dimensional characters, goblins, unicorns and Star Trek rip-offs, I urge you to reconsider. After all, fiction is always speculative, so why not go beyond reading about invented characters and start reading about invented worlds? It is the limitless scope that is what I’ve always loved about sci-fi, fantasy and horror. It asks questions and pushes boundaries. Instead of a straight coming-of-age story, for example, what if a son discovered that he was a clone of his ‘father’? What if a severely disabled child could plug in and become the brain of a vast and complex machine? What if there were dragons during the Napoleonic Wars? What if we were the ‘freaks’ and the undead feared us? What if a virus wiped out 99% of the world’s population? What if? I’m happy to say that we’ve just acquired the first two trilogies for our list. It will, I’m afraid, be some time before the books are available, but I think you’ll find they are well worth waiting for. The SHADOW OPS trilogy is a modern military fantasy: X-Men meets Black Hawk Down… I mean, come on, what’s not to like about that? Bestselling Lost Fleet author Jack Campbell has described the first book, CONTROL POINT, as a ‘mile-a-minute story of someone trying to find purpose in a war he never asked for’. The author, Myke Cole, has served three tours in Iraq and that experience really shows in his writing. The first book in the other series is provisionally titled STEELHAVEN, and is by the British author Richard Ford. It’s set in a vast metropolis teetering on the brink of destruction, and it’s about as bloody, honest and edgy as any fantasy as I’ve ever read. I can hardly wait to help unleash this monster. Remember the name! Intrigued, but don’t know where to begin? There are plenty of excellent ‘Top 100’ lists on various blogs. From the Headline list, I can heartily recommend A DISCOVERY OF WITCHES by Deborah Harkness; PURE by Julianna Baggott , which is out in February; and, of course, Neil Gaiman’s mind-blowingly brilliant road trip, AMERICAN GODS. On Twitter Headline: @headlinepg John Wordsworth: @theworrierpoet Myke Cole: @mykecole Richard Ford: @rich4ord

Posted by Myke Cole, author

Blog: Reflections on New York Comic Con

You might want to sit down for this one, it’s going to come as a bit of a shock. I hate to be the guy who pulls the rug out from under you, who shatters the tender illusion under which you’ve lived your entire life until now. The Internet didn’t always exist. No, I’m serious. There was a time when people didn’t have the means to communicate instantly, to answer nearly any question, to check in on the hilarious antics of anyone’s cat, at any time, anywhere in the world. It was a dark time. Marriages collapsed as the lack of Wikipedia meant that couples couldn’t resolve arguments with the click of a mouse. People starved to death, lost on unfamiliar roads, without their iPhone’s maps feature to guide them to civilization. Cats rode Roombas, dashed into paper bags, cuddled up beside dogs without anyone to witness their heart-breakingly cute hilarity. I’ve been called a tough guy because I’ve been to war, but I think the real testament to my durability was that I lived through this Dark Age. It was especially tough on nerds. We thrive on minutiae, esoteric cultural touchstones that are precious to us precisely because they are so rare. It’s hard to find a guy who can identify all the different types of Storm Trooper armor (and yes, that includes the Emperor’s Royal Guard) at a glance, who can tell you the THAC0 for a 3rd level Thief without having to look it up. When we meet those who can, we bond with them, reveling in a sense of cultural identity which I am assuming is the cousin to how Masai feel when they celebrate a warrior killing yet another lion. With a spear. By himself. Anyway, with no Internet, it was harder to find one another, especially when reaching out to the wrong person could get you mercilessly teased, or worse, smacked around and stuffed in a locker. To facilitate the location and bonding process, we nerds were drawn to gatherings known as “cons.” (And no, they didn’t involve tricking kindly old ladies out of their life savings). Generally held in hotels, these gatherings allowed a few hundred of us to bond in safety, reveling in our tribal songs (filking) and interpretive dances (LARPing). It also doubled as pretty much the only place on earth any of us would ever have a chance in hell of kissing a member of the opposite sex. I lived for cons. My life was one interminable stretch of time between them, each a crucible I had to get through until the next long weekend among my own. They all had cool names playing on their root word: Lunacon, Balticon, Confusion, Boskone. Okay, so that last one kind of fell down on the job, but you get the idea. They were always put on by fans, run by volunteers, usually operating at a loss. Science Fiction and Fantasy is one of the few genres where the majority of the pros come up through fandom, and cons were peppered liberally with authors, editors and literary agents, all doing their business networking in a morass of joy that gave them a uniform expression of I-can’t-believe-I-make-money-doing-this. It was at cons that my burgeoning interest in the genre became a professional ambition. I met my agent at Philcon, sat in the lobby until 3AM talking about everything other than writing. I first met my editor and her assistant at a con. Fast forward a-number-of-years-I-am-uncomortable-stating-because-I-am-really-really-old. A perfect storm of genre successes in popular culture (a string of outstanding superhero flicks, Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies, a surge in adult acceptance of video games, which are almost always SF/F based), and some literary successes (Harry Potter, Twilight, Eragon) helped propel Science Fiction and Fantasy into the mainstream. At the same time, the pervasiveness of the Internet began to erode the old fan-run con culture. When you can find thousands of like-minded people at the click of a mouse, why bother traveling hundreds of miles to spend a weekend at an expensive hotel? The shared vocabulary was online. Everything, from role-playing games to fan-fiction, was available in an instant. Those who accuse Internet addicts of isolation are fools. The Internet is a fundamentally social phenomenon. It is a new way that people form bonds. Cons began to gray. The panels became repetitive, the programming staff focusing more and more on holding on to their salad days, while the genre moved on without them. I don’t know when it first happened, but somewhere along the way, someone perked up and noticed that the con culture was still being applied to a small subsection of society, but revolved around a genre that was now immensely popular. The appeal was broad enough that people were willing to spend a lot of money for their articles of faith: action figures, specialized t-shirts, special edition DVDs, oceans and oceans of books. Boom. The for-profit con was born. There are comic cons all over the country now. It seems like every major city has one. While the old fan-run cons attract hundreds, these pull in tens of thousands, packing the largest venues of major cities so full that it takes an attendee 20 minutes to walk 20 feet. They transcend genre now, have become pop culture celebrations, pulling in film, television and gaming executives hawking wares from straight comedy to mainstream drama, with nary a superhero in sight. And there’s still more money to be made, with venue after venue springing up to meet demand. Wizard World, Dragon Con, the Sci-Fi Weekender. There’s a tribal petulance for those of us who were there first, who saw the birth of the con and grew up in the bosom of its larval state. This new age of mega cons makes us want to shake our fists and call the beautiful people thronging the halls of the Javitts Center Johnny-Come-Latelys (and if one more model unilaterally declares herself “Queen of the Nerds,” I will go ballistic). They are, after all, the people who took our lunch money, who wouldn’t date us. Walk through Williamsburg, Brooklyn and you’re bound to see a guy who has never played D&D in his life sporting a “THIS IS HOW I ROLL” T-shirt, emblazoned with a 20-sided die. But we go, of course. Comic Con is a focal point of my year, the happiest long weekend of the annual cycle. And that’s because I remembered something from my early days as a writer. When my best friend hit it huge as a professional genre writer before I did, I made the conscious decision not to be jealous. A rising tide lifts all boats, I told myself, and it was true. His success didn’t hinder mine in the least. In fact, it helped me when my turn came. The same is true here. I was drawn to cons of hundreds for the same reason folks are drawn to cons of hundreds of thousands: Because the genre is amazing, because a thing shared is so much more wonderful than a thing enjoyed privately. Because nothing in life can beat the simple animal pleasure of turning to a stranger and saying “That is so awesome!” and having them smile knowingly and say “it really is!” It is a brief moment where we are not alone. As I walk through New York Comic Con (or rather, as I ride the shoulders of my enormous colleague Sam Sykes to avoid getting trampled by the horde), I see the legions of fans thronging the aisles. In junior high school, most of these people likely wouldn’t have been my friends. But they are now. A rising tide lifts all boats. Man, it just keeps going up and up, year after year. And the view from here is glorious.

Milo Rambles VS Keith B Walters


Two crime community blogging Goliaths battle it out in this month's TURF WAR. Who wins? You decide.

Pam St Clement

Thursday 12th February

Lunchtime book signing event at WHSmith Chelmsford 73 - 75 High Street, Chelmsford, Essex CM1 1EJ Click here to find out more

By Marion Donaldson

How I Got Into Publishing

When I read CVs of people applying for entry level jobs in publishing today, I’m so impressed by the candidates’ presentation skills, their qualifications, their eloquence and confidence. I doubt that I was even half as eloquent in my untutored application letter and CV (painstakingly typed on a state-of-the-art electric typewriter – PCs were many years in the future!) when I applied for the position of secretary to the Managing Editor of Sphere Books, then a paperback-only imprint, back in the late 1970s.

Where Were You?

Blog: Andy Murray, Wimbledon 2013

‘Where were you when...?’ is a game of immense value. Questions such as, Where were you when Elvis died, when the twin towers fell or when Princess Diana died? are ones to keep in your back pocket for necessary small-talk-scenarios, when the conversation is dwindling at dinner parties or when you're two-thirds through your long haul flight. But this game does much more than simply enliven the chatter accompanying the proffering of After Eights. It makes the momentous microscopic, it takes grandiose events experienced by everyone and translates them to a more personal level – and this summer, on 8th July 2013 on Centre Court at Wimbledon, Andy Murray did not just become the first male to win Wimbledon since Fred Perry in 1936; he unwittingly added fresh new material to this game. Now, ‘Where were you when Andy Murray won Wimbledon?’ will forever be immortalised as a legitimate question to add to the list, to which all proud Brits will have a good, patriotic story to share. To prove this, I presented the question to the office - read their varied and wonderful tales below... Read on to the end – David McTeague’s is my favourite! Abigail Mitchell - Sales - I was at a really nice pub in Stratford (very close to where Andy won his gold medal at the Olympics!) with my best friend (also Scottish). We sat outside in the sunshine watching the big screen while enjoying the outdoor BBQ. We both shed a little tear when Andy won! Jenny Karat - Regional Manager I was on holiday with my husband and children in Provence, along with two other families. It was a baking hot day; we had many bottles of chilled rose, a pool to cool off in and we switched the huge television on for the only time during the week we were there. Watching Andy Murray win in those surroundings with our friends was a Wimbledon I will never forget! Emily Griffin - Editorial I spent the match crouched on my living-room floor (not the sofa, it was too tense for the sofa) conveying my support/frustration/excitement/despair to the TV. If the match had gone to a fourth set, there’s absolutely no way I (never mind Murray) would have had the stamina to cope. Top sporting drama! Darcy Nicholson - Editorial Before I was taken there as a translator, I had never heard of Gabon in Africa. And yet, when Murray won Wimbledon there I was, sitting in the lobby of a hotel in the country’s capital, freezing cold in the path of a manic air-conditioning unit. We watched the match on a French channel, revelling in the eccentric commentary but despising the ad breaks in live TV – the BBC wouldn’t have dared! By the time Murray won, we had the entire hotel behind him; we cheered, we cried and we celebrated with local beer. Highly recommended. Lynsey Sutherland - Marketing I was watching the final in the park, with a makeshift iPad/pizza box set-up (see below). Our iPad ran out of battery in the last game so we rushed home but just missed the last 5 minutes!!! Noooo! Christina Demosthenous - Editorial I was at a screen in Kings Cross next to Central St Martin’s college. It was absolutely packed and the atmosphere was buzzing. We were drinking Pimms in the sunshine and cooling off in the water fountains in the breaks. It was so summery and British! Beau Merchant - Marketing I was on a nudist beach in Croatia (romantic). The bar overlooking the beach had wi-fi so I was following it on the BBC website / Twitter. Our boat to the mainland left at a certain time which meant I missed the final set! We bumped into a group of Scots that night out celebrating so it wasn't all bad news. Frances Edwards - Editorial I was at a music festival up in the Yorkshire Dales and part of a throng of people completely ignoring the band, desperately refreshing live BBC coverage every two minutes and getting stressed at the lack of phone signal. Someone must have managed it in the end as a mass cheer went up when he won and an electro-ceilidh struck up on stage! And the semi-famous David McTeague - Commercial... I was standing on a hill surrounded by other tennis fanatics, knackered after camping all night in Wimbledon, slightly inebriated after drinking wine all morning in the queue, and to be honest, crying shortly after this picture was grabbed off the TV. Such an amazing moment.

26 Feb
Covent Garden

An Evening With Helen Walsh


Join us as we celebrate the publication of The Lemon Grove. Helen will be in conversation with Cathy Rentzenbrink about her wonderful new novel and her previous works. Glamour Magazine have described The Lemon Tree as 'A sultry, summery novel set during a family holiday in Spain. This year's Beautiful Ruins.' The Independent have said, 'The book of the month could be Helen Walsh's The Lemon Grove, about marriage, female desire, and raising other people's children, set in a villa in Mallorca. It is definitely not an easy holiday read.' Tickets £5 / £3 for Waterstones Cardholders, available from the bookshop or online

02 Nov
Heffers Bookshop, Cambridge

Simon Scarrow at Heffers Classics Festival 2013