#justtwoweeks

[dmidagad]

you will be gone for two weeks and the single chair will be all mine .... yeah, i know, just for two weeks. damn it, jack. #dogsofinstagram. #singlechair. #damnit. #justtwoweeks. https://www.instagram.com/p/CP-0mWHM9tw/?utm_medium=tumblr

[theverysimple]

Machiatto time! #caramelmacchiato #starbucks #coffeetime #breakfast #byebyefriends #byebyescotland #justtwoweeks #almostthere #missingalready (at Cineworld Aberdeen Union Square)

[womw]

3:00 PM @ Madrid. 8:00 AM @ Mexico. Hublot Big Bang Unico GMT Latin America Edition. by menwatching from Instagram http://ift.tt/1QOP00r

[raven-reviews]

Guest Post: Behind the Scenes of Writing Just Two Weeks by Amanda Sington-Williams

The inspiration for my psychological thriller ‘Just Two Weeks’ came after a visit to Sri Lanka where I talked to many of the locals about their experiences during the tsunami of 2004. Their stories moved me to such an extent I thought I might write a novel based around the theme of loss. In fact I wrote a plan.  I had already had published ‘The Eloquence of Desire’, a historical romance. When I studied for my MA in Creative Writing at Sussex University we were encouraged to write literary fiction.  The tutors advised us to aim high; we were all good enough to win the Booker!  My plan for a great literary piece progressed until I realised with a shock that it wasn’t working.  What more could I add to this vast subject? I took a break and began to read psychological thrillers, books like ‘Before I go to Sleep’ by S.J. Watson, books that kept you on the edge of your seat, books that you couldn’t put down. This, I realised was what I really wanted to write. And when I began I found I was really enjoying the process.

 In Part 1 of ‘Just Two Weeks’, I still used the location of Sri Lanka. It is a place where the culture and language are alien to the protagonist – fine on a two week break in the sun. But when frightening events take their course, the unrelenting heat and the inability to communicate properly lead to an immense sense of panic and unease.

Part 2, in contrast, is set in The Lake District in northern UK.  It is cold and rainy especially in January, when the novel is set; it is where the protagonist lives and should be a place of comfort, a home to return to. Instead, the feeling of alienation continues as her sense of reality fragments.

So now my psychological thriller ‘Just Two Weeks’ is published. Better still it won the IPR Agents Pick.

And I managed to slip in a teeny bit of that original grand plan. The protagonist takes a book called ‘A Memory of Loss’ on her two week break in the sun!

Read more about this author and her book Just Two Weeks HERE.

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Feature: Just Two Weeks by Amanda Sington-Williams

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Genres: Suspense, Psychological Thriller Tour Promo Price: £7 to UK residents (paperback) Goodreads: HERE.

Book Description:

Jolene’s two week break in the sun turns into a nightmare when she meets Raquel, another holiday maker.

How could Jo have known this encounter would bring her past back to haunt her?

What does this woman want from her and is there really anyone she can trust?

After being made redundant from a seemingly secure job Jolene Carr takes a two week break in the sun. On the first day she meets Raquel, another hotel guest. Little does she realise how this apparently innocent acquaintance will lead to terrible and lasting consequences. After a frightening incident she hits a conspiracy of silence from the locals and over the rest of the holiday she feels herself slipping into a vortex of fear. Back home, the nightmare continues and she realises that Raquel is stalking her. Her hippie mother and her partner Mark tell her she is imagining it all. All certainties, even about relationships, become fluid and treacherous as her past begins to unravel. If it wasn't for Rob, her ex-lover who Jolene thinks has his own agenda, she would be left to cope on her own.

How much fear and betrayal can one person take?

Excerpt:

It was so hot sitting in the glare of the sun. The combination of Campari and the journey yesterday were making her sleepy. She closed her eyes, drifted to the chatter of nearby Germans and faded into a reverie, back to another time when she was beach-combing. It was on a beach in Tangier and her mother had been lying a little way away with a muscular man wearing blue shorts. Her mother was topless, the local men stared without embarrassment. They hadn't been interested in Jo’s collection of shells.

A shadow fell across the table and the blocking of sunlight woke her – she was back on this beach with the sound of speedboats roaring across the water. The waiter was collecting the empty glasses; he secured the bill under the ashtray. Jo smiled up at him then resumed looking out to sea. The speedboats were silent for a minute, powered further up the coast. She could hear the distant roll of waves and closer, the surf hitting the sand; closer still, the sound of glasses being washed. She stretched. All she wanted was to go back to her room at the spa hotel. She stared into the middle distance, feeling sleepy again. It had been a long time, too long now since Zara had gone. She glanced along the beach. The waiter moved towards the table, clearly anxious that they should pay and move on.

‘I’m waiting for the woman who was there.’ She pointed to the empty chair opposite.

She removed her sandal and with the toe of her better leg, drew circles in the sand and thought about Mark, imagining him at work, checking patients, rushing round his ward. Was she too trusting? Some of the nurses were very attractive. She glanced at her watch. The waiter had returned.

‘She said she was going to the toilet, but it’s –’

‘You want toilet?’ He nodded to the back of the café, picked up the bill, handed it to her.

‘You've got one here? But I thought –’ She grabbed her bag and rushed to where he pointed. Her stomach was knotting and she felt sick. Outside the toilet there was a sink with a bent tap, a cracked mirror. She knocked on the door marked WC, went in.

‘Christ!’ she said while she stood in the concrete room with the cracked toilet bowl and the sound of jet skis buzzing through her brain. She reached into her bag and pulled out her towel. There was nothing else. No purse. No passport. Her book dropped to the floor: A Memory of Loss splayed in the dirt. She searched in her bag again, turning it inside out, shaking it violently. Nothing. Someone began banging on the door.

‘Hang on.’

Squatting on her heels, with her fingers she searched each corner of the dank sour smelling room. How could she have let this happen? Her fingers touched cardboard. She picked it up. A discarded menu. Other than sand and dirt there was nothing else on the floor. She picked up her book from the toilet roll where she’d balanced it, and stuffed it back into her bag, opened the door. Back outside she blinked in the sudden light and wove her way through the tables, aware of everyone following her movements with detached curiosity until she reached the table where she’d sat with Zara. Four pairs of seemingly foreign eyes turned to her expectantly.

‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Sorry to bother you, but was anything on the table – you know, when you sat down?’ She was feeling giddy and was finding it hard to catch her breath. ‘I mean, like a passport?’

One of them interpreted for the others and while Jo waited, her breathing laboured with anxiety, they all got up and moved their chairs back. Jo was down on her hands and knees again searching in the sand, though she knew she was wasting her time.

‘Did you find anything?’ she said again.

‘There was nothing here when we came. The table was empty and wiped clean.’

‘Are you sure?’ Jo said, standing up. Her leg was throbbing.

Someone was tapping Jo insistently on the shoulder. ‘Your bill, ma’am.’ The waiter shoved a till print-out into her hand.

Sweat was soaking her T-shirt and suddenly she was incredibly thirsty.

Buy Links:

Amazon (Paperback)

Amazon UK (Paperback)

My Book Baby

Amazon USA (Kindle)

Hive

Oyster

The Copia

Barnes & Noble

Ciando

Kobo

Foyles

Water Stones

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Amanda’s second novel Just Two Weeks published by Golden Sand Books in 2014 won the IPR Agents Pick in 2013.

Her first novel, The Eloquence of Desire was published by Sparkling Books in 2010 and has been translated into Turkish. She won an award for this novel in 2007 from the Royal Literary Fund. Her

Since 2006 when she first started writing she has had many short stories published, including:  Growing Pains by Bridgehouse Publishing, A Mother’s Love by Indigo Mosaic, Two Orchids by Sentinel Literary Quarterly.  Unseasonable Weather by Dead Ink Press, The Woman at Number Six by Writing Raw, and many more.

Amanda has an MA in Creative Writing and Authorship from Sussex University and teaches Creative Writing in Brighton. :

Author Biography:

I got hooked on writing when I did a two year course on Creative Writing at Sussex University. I've had quite a number of short stories published and have an MA in Creative Writing and Authorship from Sussex University. The Eloquence of Desire was my first novel and was published in 2010. This was a romance and won an award from the Royal Literary Fund. It has been translated into Turkish. My latest novel Just Two Weeks is a psychological thriller set in Sri Lanka and The Lakes in northern UK. This won the IPR Agents Pick.  I love cats and singing and am an Alto. I sing in Dawn Chorus in Brighton where I live with my husband. I mentor new novel writers.

LINKS:

Website

Blog

Twitter

Facebook (Personal Page)

Facebook (Author Page)

ABOUT THE GIVEAWAY:

Enter to win one of seven fine art greetings cards by the accomplished artist David Williams http://www.southdownsgallery.co.uk/. This giveaway is open to residents of the UK only. The giveaway dates will run 11/24/14 – 12/22/14.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Or Direct Link to Rafflecopter: HERE.

See the entire tour HERE.

Virtual Book Tour Dates: 11/24/14 - 12/22/14

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