Hi Everyone!
Remember how I shared with you some highlights about the book What Happens At The Beach? Good news! I have more to share. Let's start with an excerpt!
What Happens at the Beach…
The next day, she met a third handsome man. This time, he
was a very different kettle of fish. Or, more precisely, a different basket of
fish. As she sat at her usual table on the terrace after her morning swim,
sipping her grand crème, he came up
the steps from the beach with a basket of fish and shellfish for the kitchen.
As he and Alain checked the contents of the basket and haggled over the price,
Natalie let her eyes run over the fisherman.
He wasn’t as tall as Mark or as well-groomed as the man in
the polo shirt, but he made up for his lack of height and refinement with his
muscular build. His forearms were powerful, his leg muscles well-formed and his
chest statuesque. He was wearing a battered old T-shirt that had once
advertised Spanish beer. It had faded from its original red colour to a rusty
brown and it was peppered with holes, some of them, Natalie noticed naughtily,
affording tantalising glimpses of his suntanned body beneath. His shorts had
probably started life as jeans and had been chopped off high on the leg,
leaving frayed threads hanging across his powerful thigh muscles. His feet were
bare and his wild mop of jet-black hair hung down to his shoulders. His face
was weather-beaten and tough. As the complete antithesis of David or the man in
the polo shirt, he fitted the bill to perfection.
When she had finished her coffee, she took the cup back into
the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher. Alain had already started on the
fish. He was standing at the sink with a sharp knife, removing the beak from a
big octopus under a stream of cold water. Natalie went over to watch the
process and, casually, enquired about the fisherman. She needn’t have bothered
to dissimulate; Alain really didn’t miss much.
‘Well, well, well, so you’re in love with Rémy as well.’ He
looked up as Natalie did her unsuccessful best not to blush. ‘You’ll have to
join the queue. Every time Laure sees him she goes weak at the knees. He’s been
fishing these waters since he was a little boy. He and I went to school
together and just about every girl in the school had a crush on him. He was
never interested in studying, but what he didn’t know about spear-fishing or
teenage girls wouldn’t cover the back of a postcard. You’ll see quite a bit of
him if you keep coming here at this time of the morning. He’s got a boat round
at Banyuls, but every August he comes over here for the spear-fishing. Have you
seen this beauty?’ He flicked off the tap with his elbow, lifted the octopus
out of the sink and laid it on a chopping board, the tentacles so long they
hung down over the edge. ‘Half an hour ago this fellow was swimming around. You
don’t get them much fresher than that.’
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And now for a Guest Post!
Why the South of
France?
TA (Trevor )
Williams writes about his latest book, What
Happens at the Beach.
So far in my What Happens… series, I’ve set books in Tuscany, Cornwall, the Alps
and in a little village on the edge of Dartmoor. This time I’m heading for the
sun. My new book, What Happens at the
Beach… takes place on a beautiful little beach that I’ve called Port Renard
in the south of France. Why there, you may ask?
First and foremost, for the sun. I started
writing this book in the depths of a cold, wet English winter and I really got
a buzz out of imagining myself down there amid the pine trees with the scent of
resin in the air, the hiss of the waves and the incessant hum of the cicadas
ever-present in the background. When I wrote about swimming in the clear blue
sea, floating above the white sandy seabed, it was a welcome relief from the
constant beat of rain on my study window. You see, I write for myself as well
as my readers, you know.
I studied French at university many, many
years ago and I love the language. Although I spent more time in Italy, I lived
in France on and off for a couple of years and we always took our holidays down
there. Just where exactly are we talking about? France is separated from Spain
by the mountain range of the Pyrenees. Port Renard is at the far eastern edge
of the mountains, on the Mediterranean coast, just about ten miles from the
Spanish border. This part of France, Roussillon, is a major holiday destination
to people from all over Europe, and many people from Britain and elsewhere have
chosen to buy houses there and relocate in search of sunshine and a slower way
of life.
It’s also a very historic region. Back in
the Middle Ages, it was the scene of a horrific attack by forces of the Vatican
(in the days when the Catholic Church was every bit as much of a temporal power
as the secular states around it). The crusaders marched into the southwest of
France to eradicate heresy. To modern eyes, the Cathar heretics, who even
called themselves Good Christians, differed
little from mainstream Catholicism, but they got wiped out all the same. As a
result, the area is rich in amazing hilltop castles, spectacular churches and
abbeys. All in all, a fascinating place.
Natalie, my heroine, is half English, half
French. She’s all alone in the world after the death of her parents and the
collapse of her relationship with David, and she travels over to Port Renard to
seek refuge at the home of her beloved grandma. When she gets there she
immediately falls in love with Barney. Barney is totally gorgeous (if you like
dogs) and it’s love at first sight. And his hunky master isn’t too bad either.
Like all my books, this one is designed to put a smile on your face and to give
you a nice warm, fuzzy feeling. There’s enough horror going on in the world
these days. In my own small way, I hope that a visit to the sunny south of
France with me will cheer you and remind you that life’s not all bad all the
time.
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Makes you want to travel, doesn't it? It sure does for me! I enjoyed this book and appreciated the opportunity for T.A. Williams to come by the blog today! Hope you will get a chance to get this book.
Happy Reading!
