Part of Series
England, 1926. Lord Edgington and his loyal assistant embark on a Christmas holiday only for a blizzard to block their path. Forced to seek shelter, they find a remote manor where a group of famous actors are celebrating the season. But the luxurious house at Weston Moor is not the sanctuary it seems. One of its inhabitants hides a dark past and, when an intruder spoils the party, the first body falls. Past scandals, a stolen fortune, and hidden secrets come to light as the clock ticks closer to Christmas day and the body count rises. But will the incognito sleuth, his hapless grandson, and their well-fed golden retriever be able to catch the killer before it’s time for Christmas dinner? A warm and witty golden-age whodunit featuring a unique cast of characters, a cunning conclusion and plenty of Christmas cheer. “The Snows of Weston Moor” is a festive mix of Agatha Christie's “The Sittaford Mystery” and “Hercule Poirot’s Christmas” with a dash of Downton Abbey thrown in. This is a spoiler-free entry in the bestselling “Lord Edgington Investigates” series. It can be read as a standalone novel and does not give away any secrets from the previous books.
Author
Writing has always been my passion. It was my favourite hour a week at primary school, and I started on my first, truly abysmal book as a teenager. So it wasn’t a difficult decision to study literature at university which led to an MA in Creative Writing. I spent a long time writing kids’ books, including funny fairy tales, dystopic adventures and serious issue-based YA, before switching to murder mysteries last year. I grew up in a crime fiction family and spent a long time dreaming up the idea for my detective Izzy Palmer’s debut novel. A Corpse Called Bob is my first full-length book for adults in what is already becoming a long series. I’m a Welsh-Irish-Englishman originally from South London but now living with my French/Spanish wife and slightly muddled daughter in Burgos, a beautiful city in the north of Spain. I write overlooking the Castilian countryside, trying not to be distracted by the vultures and red kites that fly past my window each day.
