How It Was

No more grin and bear it: how and why we all need to reset the domestic balance. Gemma Hartley is a mother and journalist on a mission: to throw fresh light on the hidden burden of 'emotional labour' (washing, wiping, worrying, soothing, shopping, preparing, planning, cooking, caring), and find out why it is that the bulk of these thankless, hugely time-consuming and frustrating jobs fall to women.Gemma's article: 'Women Aren't Nags; We're Just Fed Up,' was shared by millions of readers, giving voice to a huge number of women whose frustration and anger is mixed with incredulity. Is this really where we're at 50 years post-feminism? Gemma's quest to get to the bottom of the problem and find out how to solve it will take you deep into your own subconscious bias, and sees her challenging the foundations of her own marriage to try to forge a better, more balanced way to live. Fed Up puts forward a thought-provoking, honest and impassioned case that any woman in a relationship should take an unflinching look at her own home life and ask: "How could we do this better?" The answer might just save your sanity, and your relationships.'It's time you got Gemma Hartley's new book on the emotional labour done by women. Fed Up, out now, is a groundbreaking read.' - Lorraine Candy, Editor-in-chief of Style magazine'This book by Gemma Hartley opened my eyes to why, for so long (too long) women have carried the mental load. It's full of advice for women and men on overcoming the relentless arguments and looking at the bigger picture.' - Clemmie Hooper, AKA Mother of Daughters

MP Patrick Macready has been found dead in his flat. The coroner rules it an accident, a sex game gone wrong. Jon Swift is from the old stock of journos - cynical, cantankerous and overweight - and something about his friend's death doesn't seem right. Then days after Macready's flat is apparently burgled, Swift discovers that his friend had been researching a string of Russian government figures who had met similarly 'accidental' fates. When the police refuse to investigate further, Swift gets in touch with his contacts in Moscow, determined to find out if his hunch is correct. Following the lead, he is soon drawn into a violent underworld, where whispers of conspiracies, assassinations and double-agents start blurring the line between friend and foe.But the truth will come at a price, and it may cost him everything.

'A resonant novella set in one of King's signature locales: the small town of Castle Rock, Maine' Washington PostThe small town of Castle Rock, Maine, has witnessed some strange events and unusual visitors over the years, but there is one story that has never been told...until now.There are three ways up to Castle View from the town of Castle Rock: Route 117, Pleasant Road, and the Suicide Stairs. Every day in the summer of 1974 twelve-year-old Gwendy Peterson takes the stairs, which are held by strong (if time-rusted) iron bolts and zig-zag up the cliffside.One day, while Gwendy catches her breath and listens to the shouts of the kids on the playground and the chink of an aluminium bat hitting a baseball, a stranger calls out to her. On a bench in the shade sits a man in a small, neat black hat. He offers Gwendy a mahogany box with coloured buttons. The buttons will produce gifts, such as chocolate which can make you slimmer. But he warns her that the gifts will be 'small recompense for the responsibility.'Journey back to Castle Rock in this chilling new novella by Stephen King, bestselling author of The Bazaar of Bad Dreams, and Richard Chizmar, award-winning author of A Long December

The Number One bestseller.It is deep winter. The darkness is unending.The private detective named Jaycob Eklund has vanished, and Charlie Parker is dispatched to track him down. Parker's employer, Edgar Ross, an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, has his own reasons for wanting Eklund found. Eklund is no ordinary investigator. He is obsessively tracking a series of homicides and disappearances, each linked to reports of hauntings. Now Parker will be drawn into Eklund's world, a realm in which the monstrous Mother rules a crumbling criminal empire, in which men strike bargains with angels, and in which the innocent and guilty alike are pawns in a game of ghosts . . .

***LONGLISTED FOR THE DESMOND ELLIOTT PRIZE 2016***'A HIGH-FINISH PERFORMANCE' Observer'DARK WEIRD AND GLORIOUSLY FEMINIST' Elle UK'A SHARP EYE AND A SHARPER WIT - A MEMORABLE HEROINE' Guardian'INIMITABLE, INGENIOUSLY BRUTAL... CRIES OUT FOR A COSTUME DRAMA SERIES' Telegraph'A BOLDNESS RARE IN A FIRST NOVEL' Mail on Sunday'A STRANGE, UNSETTLING STORY' The Times'ONE TO WATCH' Guardian'A STORY OF DISPASSIONATE, BLOODY BRILLIANCE' Sunday Express'ONE OF THE HOTTEST DEBUT NOVELISTS OF THE YEAR' Glamour'A GRIPPING, GIRL-POWER STORY' Sun'A CRACKING READ' Cathy Rentzenbrink, Prima'A SPIRITED, DARK DEBUT' Woman & Home'STRANGE, DARK AND UTTERLY MESMERIC' Hannah Kent, author of Burial Rites'A MASTERFUL STORYTELLER' Clare Mackintosh, author of I Let You Go'BEWITCHING' Antonia Hodgson, bestselling author of The Devil in the Marshalsea'A TRIUMPH' Erin Kelly, author of The Poison TreeGeorgian London, in the summer of 1763.At nineteen, Anne Jaccob is awakened to the possibility of joy when she meets Fub, the butcher's apprentice, and begins to imagine a life of passion with him. The only daughter of well-to-do parents, Anne lives a sheltered life. Her home is a miserable place. Though her family want for nothing, her father is uncaring, her mother is ailing, and the baby brother who taught her to love is dead. Unfortunately her parents have already chosen a more suitable husband for her than Fub.But Anne is a determined young woman, with an idiosyncratic moral compass. In the matter of pursuing her own happiness, she shows no fear or hesitation. Even if it means getting a little blood on her hands.A vivid and surprising tale, The Butcher's Hook brims with the colour and atmosphere of Georgian London, as seen through the eyes of a strange and memorable young woman.-~-~-~-~-~- 'Do you know what this is?' He holds a short twist of thick metal, in the shape of the letter 'S', sharpened at both ends. I shake my head. 'A butcher's hook,' he says, testing the tip of his finger against each point. 'A perfect design. Whichever way up you use it, it's always ready. One end to hook, the other to hang. It has only one simple purpose.' He stands on a stool and fixes it over the bar above him. It waits there, empty. He climbs down. 'Pleasing, isn't it?'