Book Blitz Tour/ Playing On Cotton Clouds


  • Michela’s Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Crooked Cat Publishing
  • Amazon | Barnes & Noble
  • Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction
  • Length: 320 pages
  • Release Date: April 20, 2012
  • Publisher: Crooked Cat Publishing
  • When arty Livy falls for her sister’s boyfriend, she knows her dreams are unlikely to come true… Sensitive Seth thinks he has hit the jackpot when the girl of his dreams finally looks his way… While laidback Aidan is every girl’s hero.

    Fast forward twenty-five years as carefree youth turns into adulthood responsibilities, relationships begin and end, music and fashion change, and life moves on with its successes, failures and heartaches. As the friends grow up, they discover life rarely turns out the way you imagined it at fifteen.

    The rites of passage through years are eerily familiar to every 1980s teenager in this moving, heartfelt novel.

    Michela O’Brien was born in Milan, Italy, in… well, let’s say some time in the last third of the 20th century. In Milan she grew up, studied, worked as a teacher, made friends and wrote, commending thoughts to page, imagining plots and characters, recording events in her life, noting observations about the world: stories, diaries, letters… In an era before personal computers, internet, blogs and social networks, it was pen and paper and she still carries a notebook and a pencil with her to sketch ideas on the spot.

    She moved to England in 1994 and for a while she focused her attention on her new family. Writing was sidelined, until, about ten years ago, she went back to her love for words and wrote a novel, published in Italy, and a series of short stories, all in her native language. She then started writing in English and worked on short stories and two novels, Playing on Cotton Clouds and A Summer of Love, both published by Crooked Cat Publishing. She has just completed her third novel.

    “How’s your sister?”

    Livy’s words died on her lips, as she repressed the urge of commenting she had been asking herself how long it would be before[Seth] enquired about Tara. She studied his expression closely, looking for clues on his feelings, but he remained impassable.

    “She’s very well, thank you.” She hesitated before casually dropping the grenade. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say it, as official invitations have not been sent out yet, but she’s finally getting married next spring, after all the delays due to James’s mum’s bad health.”

    “Is she?” Seth removed the cigarette from his mouth and Livy wondered if the news had detonated at all. He seemed unaffected by any explosion. “Nightmare for you.” He joked. “You’ll have James Douglas-Smith for brother-in-law.”

    “Don’t remind me.” Livy rolled her eyes. “And a Tory as well.”

    “Is he a minister yet?”

    “Assistant to our local MP, for the time being, but I’d give him a couple of years to replace him.”
    “That’s a scary thought. I definitely need a smoke now.”

    Seth let his gaze wander around the room, as if absorbing the last few details before walking out of the exhibition for good, and Livy couldn’t help noticing a familiar shadow in his eyes. She had seen it before. It was there the day they had met again at the bridge, four years before, after she had heard about his illness. She had found him pale and thin, but in better spirit that she had imagined, as he did his best to rebuild his life. It was there the day they had travelled to London together, sharing a train journey as she returned to Goldsmiths for her final year and he moved on to his new job. And it was there at Tara’s twenty-first birthday party, when Livy had dried his tears and they had ended up spending the night together.

    As she took in the sight of him absentmindedly fiddling with the cigarette, the memory of that night played vivid and present in front of her and a sudden rush of nostalgia engulfed her, filling her mind with what ifs.

    Tour Schedule:

    copyright 2010, Cindy (Cindy’s Love Of Books)
    If you are reading this on a blog or website other than Cindy’s Love Of Books or via a feedreader, this content has been stolen and used without permission.

    Book Blitz Tour/ Tomorrow’s Anecdote


  • Pamela’s Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Crooked Cat Publishing
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  • Genre: Contemporary Thriller
  • Length: 344 pages
  • Release Date: April 22, 2013
  • Publisher: Crooked Cat Publishing
  • Just another day in the the newsroom? Hardly.

    October 1987. Clare Forester is an overworked and under-appreciated features subeditor on a provincial paper in Somerset. She spends her time cheerfully ranting about her teenage daughter, the reclusive lodger, her spiteful mother, the Thatcher government, new technology, grubby journalists, petty union officials, her charming ex – and just about anything else that crosses her path.

    If things aren’t turbulent enough, on the night of Thursday, October 15th, the Great Storm sweeps across Britain, cutting a swathe of destruction across the country.

    Things turn chaotic. Pushed to breaking point, Clare finally snaps and loses her temper with gale-force fury – with disastrous results.

    As she contemplates the chaos that her life has become, Clare soon comes to a bitter conclusion.
    Never trust the past. It lies.


    Pamela Kelt first managed to avoid any semblance of a day job by taking Spanish at the University of Manchester. On completion of the degree and after a subsequent six brain-fogging months on a local paper, she fled to Oxford and completed her M. Litt. thesis on ‘Comic aspects of satirical 17th-century comic interludes’, which was not only much more fun, but strangely relevant to coping with the vagaries of the 21st century. After becoming a technical translator, she discovered that English was easier, and did copywriting for anyone who would pay.

    On a stint in Australia, she landed a job as a subeditor and returned to journalism, relishing the chance to come up with funny headlines in a variety of provincial papers. Ah. Once a pun a time.

    As her academic husband became a chemistry professor in something even she can’t spell, Pam moved into the more sensible world of educational magazines and online publishing – for a while, at least. A daughter arrived and reintroduced her to the delights of fiction, which she’d sort of forgotten about. So, one fine day, while walking the dogs at a local beauty spot, thinking ‘to hell with a career’, Pam took the plunge into writing for herself, and is now the author of six books to date (including one co-written with aforementioned prof) ranging from historical drama by way of teen fantasy to retro mystery.

    No-one could have seen the line of trees falling like dominoes as they toppled towards the A36 under cover of darkness that Thursday evening. One minute, I was driving back in a rental car from Brighton to the West Country, my shoulders aching with keeping it on the road as a crosswind buffeted. The next, I was slowing down to tackle a tricky bend when a giant tree trunk landed on the bonnet with an almighty thump.

    As the car juddered to a standstill, I rammed on the brakes out of instinct. The seatbelt cut into my neck as I lurched forwards, then back, just like a test mannequin. For a moment, I sat there, pulse palpitating, still gripping the wheel. Then I counted to ten, opened my eyes and found myself staring out at a confused mass of branches and yellowing leaves. They glowed oddly in the light of my remaining headlamp. It was like being upside-down in a tree house, but much less fun.
    If I’d arrived at that spot a split second later, the tree would have landed plum on the roof. And me. My chest hurt. I realised the steering wheel was crushing my sternum.

    The crash had shunted my seat forward. Hands shaking, I fumbled for the belt release, and pinged it loose. Wincing, I bent down and yanked at the floor-level bar, shoving backwards with the balls of my feet.

    Nothing. Grunting with the effort, I tried again to no avail. The sliding mechanism must have jammed in the crash.

    At that point, the electrics gave up and everything went pitch black. My forehead ached. I must have hit my head against the steering wheel. Darkness seeped into my mind and I slumped in my seat, semi-conscious.

    My brain seemed to float away from my body and I began to relive the past three days I had spent in a ghastly Portakabin where I had endured the vilest form of professional torture … that most feared phenomenon of all, The Management Course.

    Other tour stops:

    copyright 2010, Cindy (Cindy’s Love Of Books)
    If you are reading this on a blog or website other than Cindy’s Love Of Books or via a feedreader, this content has been stolen and used without permission.