Murders at the Winterbottom Women's Institute by Gina Kirkham - #bookextract #blogtour

 

The Blurb

It’s a quiet English village—except for one crazed murderer—in this delightful romp by the author of the Constable Mavis Upton series.

Librarian Prunella Pearce has left heartbreak behind to start a new life in the village of Winterbottom, where there’s little social life to be had aside from the meetings of The Winterbottom Women’s Institute at the parish hall.

But a bit of excitement ensues when the group is about to elect a new president—and the nominees for the position begin dropping like flies. One is found facedown in a lemon drizzle cake, stabbed with a crochet needle. Another nearly dies spectacularly in the revolving doors of a Harrogate hotel. When Pru and her friend Bree agree to do some undercover snooping to help the police, little do they know that one of the Winterbottom women is hiding a scandalous secret . . .

Extract

The whiteness crunched underfoot, a sound that Maisie found quite comforting. She quickly took her eyes from the ground, raised her head and tilted her chin to look ahead. It momentarily hurt, making her blink rapidly. The whiteness had no end. It stretched from the carefully crafted stone edges of Magdalen House, across the vast gardens, over the boundary hedges and then draped itself on the bare branches of the dense trees in Winterbottom Woods.

She could almost imagine her life being completely white.

No darkness.

No fear.

No desperation.

Just white.

She bent down, her small fingers curled around the icy cold snow, patting it into a little ball. Once it was the right shape and size she took aim. Bringing her arm back, she tested her own flexibility before launching it at a squirrel that had until that moment been sitting unaware of her on the fence, a small acorn between its paws. The snowball missed, but it was enough to startle it. The grey flash disappeared over the hedge, leaving the top of its foraged nut peeping out from the snow.

She wasn’t sure why she had done that. Now she was alone again. It was only a squirrel, but better some company than none at all. She glanced back to look at the windows of Magdalen House. They were the eyes of her world.

Sometimes they allowed her to see out.

Sometimes they looked out to see her.

Like today.

Today they were watching her.

She turned her back, not wanting to see their disapproval, not wanting to feel their wrath.

***