Cottage on a Cornish Cliff - blog tour

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Cottage on a Cornish Cliff - Kate Ryder

About the author

After pursuing a career in publishing and acting, Kate found her passion in writing. She is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and the Society of Authors. Her self-published debut novel received a Chill with a Book, “Book of the Month” Award. She currently lives with her husband in the Tamar Valley in a renovated 200-year-old Cornish sawmill. She finds the Cornish landscape a great source of inspiration. When she is not writing she enjoys reading, art, theatre and travel.

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About the book

Returning to the heart of her beloved Cornwall, Kate Ryder weaves another deliciously irresistible tale of desire, jealousy and the search for understanding, set against the stunning backdrop of the glorious Lizard Peninsula.

Globally renowned actor Oliver Foxley has made the most difficult decision of all and set the love of his life free, in order to try and bring his family back together. But there's a magnetic pull back to both Cara and Cornwall that Oliver can neither deny nor resist...

Heartbroken for a second time in her short life, single mother Cara knows she has no choice but to pick up the pieces yet again and carry on. Perhaps a complete change of scenery would help her, and her young family? Yet her mind, spirit and heart yearn for the windswept shores of her Cornish Cove...

Cara and Oliver face the agonising choice between following expectations, or following their hearts. How will their story end...?

Buy links

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2Npgy1l
iBooks: https://apple.co/2OZ8Yvm

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2PyyLM0
Google Play:  http://bit.ly/2LplbrL

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 EXTRACT

‘Mr Foxley, how was your flight?’ asks the driver, hurrying to take his suitcase from him.

‘Good, thanks, Terry. Hong Kong has its place but I’m happy to be back on British soil. How’s everything at home?’ he asks, as they walk towards the parked Mercedes.

‘Much the same. I drove your lad to college last week, not that he’s much of a lad any more.’

Oliver smiles. His eldest son, Charlie, was visibly maturing by the week before he departed for the Far East. He wonders what differences the intervening three months will have brought.

The driver is about to open the door for Oliver when a flurry of noise and activity distracts them. Both men turn as several of the airline’s cabin crew exit the building looking remarkably fresh, despite the twelve-hour flight. Dressed in dramatic double-breasted red drape coats with oversized collars, the female crew are a sight to behold. Some wear their coats open, showing a glimpse of white asymmetric frill-front blouses and smart red jackets with nipped-in waists and high collars. Neat, figure-hugging, red pencil skirts with a double pleat at the back and red shoes complete the look. Wheeling her suitcase behind her, the cool blonde air hostess turns in Oliver’s direction and raises her hand to her ear, holding an imaginary phone. As she strides down the pavement with the rest of her crew she bestows him a dazzling smile; all red lipstick and white teeth.

Momentarily forgetting the hierarchy of their relationship, Terry glances at Oliver and raises his eyebrows. Just a couple of blokes acknowledging a mutual understanding. However, as soon as the moment passes he lowers his eyes and, gruffly clearing his throat, opens the car door for his client. But as he places the actor’s suitcase in the boot of the car he allows himself a twitch of a smile.

It’s late afternoon and the British weather is grey and dull. Oliver welcomes the change. During the past three months, Hong Kong has been intense with unseasonably high temperatures and humidity, but filming went well and to schedule, even though they were forced to dodge frequent heavy rains. Now they can concentrate on studio-based scenes, and this means being at home with the family for the foreseeable future. As the Mercedes eases onto the M25 and joins the anti-clockwise traffic, Oliver stretches out his legs and relaxes.

‘I like the new motor, Terry.’

In the rear-view mirror the driver’s eyes meet Oliver’s. ‘Thanks. I’m pleased with it.’

Just over an hour later, the car sweeps in through a pair of opening electric gates onto a gravelled driveway and comes to a halt in front of a handsome lodge house.

‘It’s an early start on Monday, Terry. Apologies,’ Oliver says, as the man opens the door for him.

‘No problem, Mr Foxley. I’ll be here just before five.’

‘At least you’ll be in and out of London before the worst of the traffic,’ Oliver says, by way of compensation.

Opening the car boot, Terry lifts out Oliver’s suitcase and sets it down on the gravel. Nodding at the actor, he climbs back in the Mercedes.

Oliver watches as the car disappears through the stone entrance pillars and turns left onto the track leading to the parish lane. As the electric gates glide to a close, he turns and looks up at the house situated at the base of the North Downs. Hunter’s Moon appears closed. Not even the porch light is on to welcome him home. He tries the door and finds it locked. Extracting a key from his pocket, he inserts it into the lock and opens the front door. He switches on the hall light and quickly punches in the code for the security alarm, then places his suitcase at the foot of the stairs. There’s no sound of family life anywhere in the house. That’s odd. Deanna is usually home at this time with Sebastian and Jamie. He calls out and is met by a stony silence. Walking to the kitchen, Oliver makes a coffee and takes it through to the study, his inner sanctum. As he switches on the computer he glances up at the two paintings displayed above the fireplace. Cara’s brushstrokes still speak to him in a way he can’t put into words, and her gift – the painting of the south coast of Cornwall – never fails to bring an ache to his heart.

Waiting for the computer to power up, Oliver walks over to the French doors and looks out across the extensive manicured lawns leading down to the lake at the edge of the trees. In the late afternoon gloom, all is still. With no suggestion of a breeze, the forest is motionless. Raising his gaze to beyond the tree line, Oliver can still make out the dark bulk of the North Downs. Despite the high welded mesh fence that now defines the property’s boundary – a necessary precaution because of the attentions of the sadly deranged stalker two summers before – it still feels a great house; secluded and away from other properties. Over the years Hunter’s Moon has provided the space to comfortably raise a family away from prying eyes. But children grow up fast and the dynamics are changing. Samantha rarely comes home, such is the draw of the city, and Charlie is already beginning to test his flight feathers. It’s just the two youngest boys, Sebastian and Jamie, at thirteen and eleven, who routinely fill the house with noise and laughter.

Oliver sighs heavily. He hates viewing life like this. It feels so mapped out. His day-to-day existence is never enough and he needs drama, or so he always believed. It wasn’t until he met Cara that he discovered life could be different. Her spiritual, all-seeing essence spoke to him on so many levels that it effectively laid to rest his fears and troubles. But eighteen months is a long time to hold onto the memory of a feeling… Without Cara in his life, he has slipped back into full medication for the depression that has plagued him since late childhood, and recently – worryingly – he’s noticed a tendency to increase that medication.

Oliver closes the curtains and turns away from the French doors. Where are Deanna and the boys? He checks his mobile. No messages from his wife, only one from his agent welcoming him back to the UK and asking him to phone as soon as possible. Logging on, he checks his emails. Several demand his immediate attention. It’s a further forty minutes before he hears the front door open and voices fill the hall. Oliver rises from his chair and walks to the study door. His wife and their two youngest sons stand in the entrance hall.

‘Dad!’ Jamie cries, his eyes lighting up as soon as he sees him. Setting off at a run down the hallway, Jamie bowls straight into Oliver and throws his arms around his dad’s waist.

‘Hello, Jamie,’ Oliver says, hugging his son. The boy’s jacket feels chilly from the early evening air.

‘Hi, Dad,’ says Sebastian, dumping his jacket on the floor. ‘When did you get back?’

‘A couple of hours ago. Where have you been?’ Oliver asks, as Deanna admonishes Sebastian for not hanging up his jacket.

‘Watching rehearsals for Mum’s play,’ Sebastian says, grabbing his jacket and throwing it in the general direction of the coat rack.

‘How’s it going?’ Oliver asks Deanna.

‘Getting there,’ she says, bending to pick up her son’s jacket from the floor and hanging it on a hook.