A very warm welcome to fellow Apricot Plots author, Morton S Gray, as she shares an uplifting extract from The Truth Lies Buried.
Hello Morton, it’s lovely to have you back on my blog. How are you keeping in this strange new world? Do you have a top tip to promote wellbeing?
Hello, thank you for having me.
I normally spend a lot of time on my own and so this strange time has been a little bit of a challenge with five of us home working! My husband usually works abroad and this is the longest time we have spent together consecutively during our married life! My eldest son and his girlfriend moved in ‘temporarily’ at the beginning of the year when a house purchase went wrong and have had to stay much longer than they expected, both homeworking in my dining room. My youngest is studying for his A Levels and has been having online lessons.
So, I have found myself without my usual alone time thinking space, without my coffee shop writing time and having to spend far more time cooking than usual with five of us here for every meal. Having said that, I am grateful we are all safe and well and so far in work. And, while we have our ups and downs, we generally get on pretty well.
I’ve been taking solace in my crafts – weaving, soap making and now mask making. I’m never bored and always have far more to do than time to do it in and I give thanks for that at the moment too.
My tip to promote wellbeing is to get out into nature for a walk each day and to notice the wildflowers and birds. Things change subtly every day and there are always new colours and things to make you smile.
Wow, what a busy house! After a trip to the beach early this morning, I have to agree, taking time to be out in nature definitely helps.
Reading, of course, is also a great occupation during lockdown, could you tell us a little about your latest novel?
I’m going to talk about my second novel, The Truth Lies Buried, a romantic suspense novel, which tells the story of Jenny Simpson and Carver Rodgers as they uncover secrets from their past.
This is what it says on the back of the book –
Two children in a police waiting room, two distressed mothers, a memory only half remembered…
When Jenny Simpson returns to the seaside town of Borteen, her childhood home, it’s for a less than happy reason. But it’s also a chance for her to start again.
A new job leads to her working for Carver Rodgers, a man who lives alone in a house that looks like it comes from the pages of a fairy tale – until you see the disaster zone inside …
As Jenny gets to know Carver she begins to unravel the sadness that has led to his chaotic existence. Gradually they realise they have something in common that is impossible to ignore – and it all links back to a meeting at a police station many years before.
Could the truth lie just beneath their feet?
I have read and enjoyed it, but, for those who haven’t read it yet, could you share an uplifting extract?
The extract below is the point where Jenny Simpson meets Carver Rodgers in The Truth Lies Buried:
With renewed determination, she went back down the steps and across the clearing, weaving through the trees in the direction of the overwhelming sound of the saw.
Another clearing lay ahead and she noticed a man moving. As she got closer, she could see he wore faded blue overalls, huge ear defenders and goggles. With movements reminiscent of a boxer trying to decide when to strike, he appeared to be sizing up a tree trunk propped up on the ground. The chainsaw purred in his hands and his body braced as he moved in and connected with the wood. Shavings rained through the air.
The howl of the saw began to make her head thud and her pulse race. Watching the man carving was like observing an intimate scene between lovers, as he shaped the log. There was something fascinating about the undulations of his back and his deliberate movements, as his strong arms handled the heavy saw like a paintbrush. She watched mesmerised as the shape of a bird began to emerge from the wooden block. The man ducked and dived, wielding the saw with obvious skill. Jenny’s best pair of smart shoes sank deeper into the muddy leaf mould as she waited patiently for him to notice her.
Suddenly, a huge grey dog leapt out of the undergrowth. The animal was as tall as Jenny when it jumped up, close enough for her to see flashes in his eyes. She backed against a tree, her heart in her mouth, stifling a scream. The dog circled around her, barking and snarling. Climbing out of harm’s way was impossible in her tight skirt, even if she could climb a tree. Enormous teeth came close to her face and saliva dripped from the animal’s jaws. Jenny clutched her handbag in front of her and stood as still as she could, given that she was shaking so violently. Scared of passing out, she closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.
After what seemed a lifetime, during which she’d had plenty of time to imagine being eaten by the baying dog, the chainsaw silenced.
‘Wilf, away. Come here, you mangy beast.’
Jenny chanced opening her eyes. The dog retreated instantly in response to the man’s words. She sank down to the ground, her terror taking away all care for her suit.
The chainsaw man came towards her, removing his ear defenders as he walked. He took off his goggles, revealing slate grey eyes that showed concern, but maybe a hint of amusement too. Wood shavings coated his long curly hair.
‘Are you all right? I wasn’t expecting visitors.’
Jenny stuttered when she finally found her voice. ‘You w-weren’t ex-expecting me?’
‘No.’
‘But you rang me? Unless I have totally the wrong place.’ Her voice sounded much higher in pitch than normal.
A look of puzzlement passed across his features and then his whole body tensed.
‘You’re the cleaning lady. My brother-in-law, Kieron, said he’d rung you. I’d completely forgotten.’
Jenny attempted a smile, while she contemplated how she felt about being called a cleaning lady.
He took off a thick glove and extended his hand. ‘Carver.’
Was that his name? The ‘C’ from the heart above the house door?
Jenny couldn’t decide if he intended for her to shake his hand or to use it to haul herself from the ground. She grabbed his palm and pulled. Her skirt made an ominous ripping sound as he lifted her to her feet. Meanwhile, she was puzzled by the tingles that ran up her fingers in response to his touch.
‘Jenny Simpson.’ She was annoyed at how weak and squeaky her voice sounded.
He nodded, the corners of his mouth turned up, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. On one side of his face there was a scar that went over his jawline and disappeared beneath his overalls. Trying not to stare, she dislodged her shoes once again from the mud. He had an unkempt look, definitely needed a haircut, but somehow all her eyes saw was the wound. How did you ask someone about such a thing? How did you get your scar? could be considered a rather personal question after only five minutes of acquaintance. The mark began on his bottom lip and that part of the scar was silvered. Goodness, she was staring at his lips. Jenny began to feel hot with embarrassment.
Carver, thankfully, appeared unaware. ‘Come up to the house and I’ll show you around. You’ll probably run a mile rather than take on the job, or that was my sister-in-law’s opinion in any case.’
She trailed after his boot prints, keeping a wary eye on the dog, who now followed close on her heels, as if daring her to step out of line. She felt so far removed from the cool, calm, businesslike image she’d hoped to portray. She wished she could rewind to when she first rang the doorbell; this time Carver would open the door when she knocked.
They reached the building, he whistled twice and Wilf trotted obediently to a large kennel inside a fenced area beneath the wooden structure. Carver drew a latch across the gate to contain the dog.
He bounded lithely up the steps and pushed open the front door. It hadn’t been locked, Jenny realised, but it only opened halfway and they had to squeeze through the gap into the house. A mountain of unopened post towered against the wall behind the door. She debated whether to remove her mud-caked shoes, but Carver didn’t take off his boots and the floor looked little different to the forest floor anyway, so she didn’t bother.
He led the way down the central hallway. Jenny spied a living room with every surface piled high with books, magazines and an assortment of stuff. The kitchen was full of dirty dishes, takeaway bags and plastic trays, liberally peppered with empty beer cans. It didn’t smell particularly pleasant. She tried not to let Carver see her wrinkling her nose against the odour.
She’d never seen a house in such a state, even in her student days. It was almost scary. Was she really going to agree to clean up this mess, this … total devastation?
Carver turned and she schooled her face so as not to reveal her shock. She wished she could stop her gaze travelling to his scar, as she was wondering what sort of accident or attack had caused his disfigurement. Pity, he was a good- looking man, when he wasn’t scowling. She forced herself to meet his eyes.
‘Can you do anything with this place? It was my in-laws’ idea to get a cleaner. I’m not too bothered, to be honest, but they suggested a thorough sort out and then regular maintenance. What do you think?’
Jenny searched for a tactful reply. ‘It will be … a … challenge.’
He sort of grinned, or was it a grimace?
All her senses were telling her to walk away, this was a big job, but she badly needed a new start and something about Carver intrigued her, not just his scar. ‘Will you want me to do every room? Or are there no go areas?’
‘If you are going to take on the job, I guess we may as well do it properly. My wife … died … I haven’t been able to face sorting her things. Could you do that for me too, or rather help me to do it? I’m sure it might be easier with someone standing over me.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. My condolences. How long ago did she die?’ At least this gave a reason for the state of the house.
‘Nearly three years now.’ He looked away and rubbed at his eyes.
Her heart contracted at his so obvious pain.
He turned back. ‘When can you start?’ There was a definite crack in his voice.
‘We haven’t discussed my rates yet.’
‘Kieron said twelve pounds an hour.’
‘That’s my normal rate for simple cleaning.’ Wow, she was talking as if she did this all the time.
He frowned. ‘I guess this isn’t a simple cleaning job.’
What a great extract. To add to your teaser, here’s my review of The Truth Lies Buried:
I really enjoyed my first visit to Borteen Bay in The Girl on the Beach, and so I was greatly looking forward to reading The Truth Lies Buried. It certainly didn’t disappoint.
The two main characters grow as the story progresses, as does your empathy for them as you read. Carver was a good male lead, strong and yet sensitive, with a backstory that explains his state of mind and the manner to which he has become accustomed to living, before Jenny enters (or re-enters his life). He also has a dog, which in my opinion, is a bonus in any book.
The story and action unfold at a steady pace, with some lovely tender moments along the way. With likeable characters, a wonderful setting (I’d quite like to live in Borteen Bay) and a good amount of intrigue to hold you to the end, it’s an absorbing read.
The Truth Lies Buried is available now from all eBook platforms, as a paperback and audiobook, see Choc Lit | Amazon Kindle | Kobo | Apple iBooks
Finally, what can we expect from you next?
For those who have read my three published titles, The Girl on the Beach, The Truth Lies Buried and Christmas at Borteen Bay, all set in my fictional seaside town of Borteen, my next novel features two characters you will recognise – Mandy Vanes, who runs the Owl Corner craft centre and teenager, Nick Crossten. The novel begins when Nick turns up at Owl Corner saying that his mother has gone away leaving him to fend for himself and he’s being followed by a man who says he is Nick’s father.
Very exciting times ahead, and I wish you every success with the continuation of the Borteen series. Thank you so much for stopping by. xx
About the author:
Morton lives with her husband, two sons and Lily, the tiny white dog, in Worcestershire, U.K. She has been reading and writing fiction for as long as she can remember, penning her first attempt at a novel aged fourteen. She is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and The Society of Authors.
Her debut novel The Girl on the Beach was published after she won the Choc Lit Publishing Search for a Starcompetition. This story follows a woman with a troubled past as she tries to unravel the mystery surrounding her son’s new headteacher, Harry Dixon. The book is available as a paperback and e-book.
Morton’s second book for Choc Lit The Truth Lies Buried is another romantic suspense novel, The book tells the story of Jenny Simpson and Carver Rodgers as they uncover secrets from their past. This book is available as an e-book, paperback and audiobook.
Christmas at Borteen Bay is Morton’s first Christmas novella. It is set in her fictional seaside town of Borteen and follows the story of Pippa Freeman, who runs the Rose Court Guesthouse with her mother, and local policeman Ethan Gibson, as they unravel a family secret as Christmas approaches.
Morton previously worked in the electricity industry in committee services, staff development and training. She has a Business Studies degree and is a fully qualified Clinical Hypnotherapist and Reiki Master. She also has diplomas in Tuina acupressure massage and energy field therapy. She enjoys crafts, history and loves tracing family trees. Having a hunger for learning new things is a bonus for the research behind her books.
You can find out more about Morton and her work via: website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Apricot Plots
