To the aventine

THE train was slowing. Augustine Brown looked again at the letter in her hand. Exciting news! her sister Cordelia had written. “An unexpected guest at the hotel: Maria Mironova. Exciting news indeed.

I WAS a nightmare in the early days of my marriage, I admit it. I’d met Johnny on a skiing holiday in Courchevel, where we’d both gone with groups of chums. Johnny was the most daring of us and the be

TESS was completely disorientated when she woke up. Her eyes flickered open and she found herself facing an unfamiliar pale green wall. The room, wherever it was, held a faint hint of the new wallpape

INGLEFIELD Publishing Group, Primrose Barry speaking, good morning.” Primrose heard the coins drop at the other end of the line. Someone calling from a telephone kiosk. “Primrose?” Hearing her sister’

NUNZIA’S finger hovered over Matteo’s number. She had big news to tell him – Susanna’s blog about the microscope, her innocence in its disappearance, and the new lead of absent-minded Father Anselmo.

FRANCE, October 1918. The chocolate bar in her apron pocket had been calling to her for hours before Priscilla Pickard was able to sneak out of the tent and have a moment’s peace. She wandered several