Today I am thrilled to have been asked to reveal the cover for Blind Side by Jennie Ensor, it’s certainly an intriguing cover, and one I would pick up to read the book description. I have two dates on this blog tour (yes very unusual I know), and tomorrow I will be featuring a guest post from the author herself. So I’m going to keep you waiting until tomorrow for the book description, but in the meantime here’s a sneaky extract, and don’t forget to pop by tomorrow where you can read more about Blind Side.
She’s standing there, across the lane. Close enough for me to call out hello. Blue jeans, padded jacket, short boots, the furry insides folded over. Not much make-up. Hair loose, tickling her shoulders. Scarf draped chicly about her neck. With her long legs and silky hair she could pass for a model.
Every so often she looks at her watch. She’s getting agitated, chewing her lower lip, staring at people passing by. Men, that is. Her hair keeps getting blown across her face and each time she pulls it off with an impatient flick of the fingers. The wind has a nip in it today. She hugs herself and rubs her arms. She pushes her hands down into her jacket pockets, rocking from one foot to the other.
It’s busy in this quaint little lane. People ducking in and out of boutiques and bakeries, yakking in French, supping their Saturday morning cappuccinos. Old ladies creaking along in cashmere coats and sensible shoes, trendy mums pushing designer kids. Oh yes, and little old me loitering in a doorway, watching.
A burly man in a khaki jacket strides into view from the direction of the tube station. His hair is hidden by a beanie. She checks him out too. A sharp turn of the head and the expectant look on her face is wiped in an instant. He disappears into the gallery.
Russell Brand or his lookalike emerges from a florist. Diamond earring, pirate beard. She looks again at her watch, ignoring him. Her mouth twists in frustration. She jams her hands in her pockets and strolls along the lane, away from me.
I drain my coffee, ditch the plastic cup. She stops and looks into the florist’s window. I go closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch her.
Her long earrings nestle into the curve of her cheekbones. She’s wearing gloss on her lips. A trace of light perfume reaches me. Something new, inviting. I feign an interest in the garish display of tulips, unnatural yellows and reds. Funny, how dark glasses and a hat can make such a difference. She doesn’t recognise me, doesn’t even see me.
you can pre-order Blind Side here……
Dont forget to pop by tomorrow to read more about Blind Side