13 Dec Ann Bennett The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu #HistoricalFiction #HistoricalRomance #WomensAdventure #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub @annbennett71 @cathiedunn

FEATURED AUTHOR: ANN BENNETT

It is my pleasure to welcome Ann Bennett as the featured author in The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour being held between November 23rd —December 14th, 2023. Ann Bennett is the author of the Historical Fiction / Historical Romance / Women’s Adventure and Romance novel, The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu (Echoes of Empire), released by Andaman Press on October 31st, 2023 (356 pages).

Below are highlights of The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu, Ann Bennett’s author bio, and the prologue of her novel.

Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-the-fortune-teller-of-kathmandu-by-ann-bennett.html

HIGHLIGHTS: THE FORTUNE TELLER OF KATHMANDU

The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu
(Echoes of Empire)
By Ann Bennett

Blurb:

A sweeping wartime tale of secrets and love, mystery and redemption, moving from the snow-capped Himalayas to the steamy heat of battle in the Burmese jungle.

Perfect for fans of Dinah Jeffries, Victoria Hislop and Rosie Thomas.

Hampshire, UK, 2015. When Chloe Harper’s beloved grandmother, Lena dies, a stranger hands her Lena’s wartime diary. Chloe sets out to uncover deep family secrets that Lena guarded to her grave.

Darjeeling, India, 1943, Lena Chatterjee leaves the confines of a strict boarding school to work as assistant to Lieutenant George Harper, an officer in the British Indian Army. She accompanies him to Nepal and deep into the Himalayas to recruit Gurkhas for the failing Burma Campaign. There, she discovers that Lieutenant Harper has a secret, which she vows never to reveal.

In Kathmandu, the prophesy of a mysterious fortune teller sets Lena on a dangerous course. She joins the Women’s Auxiliary Service Burma (the Wasbies), risking her life to follow the man she loves to the front line. What happens there changes the course of her life.

On her quest to uncover her grandmother’s hidden past, Chloe herself encounters mystery and romance. Helped by young Nepalese tour guide, Kiran Rai, she finds history repeating itself when she is swept up in events that spiral out of control…

“A great read” Advance Reader.

” Thank you so much for allowing me to read the advance copy. I could barely put it down!” Advance Reader,

“What a wonderful book… I loved it. The dual time lines were delineated to perfection… the settings were perfectly rendered.” Advance Reader.

Buy Links

This title is available to read with #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Buy Link: https://mybook.to/tftok

AUTHOR BIO: ANN BENNETT

Ann Bennett is a British author of historical fiction. She was born in Pury End, a small village in Northamptonshire, UK and now lives in Surrey. Her first book, Bamboo Heart: A Daughter’s Quest, was inspired by researching her father’s experience as a prisoner of war on the Thai-Burma Railway. Bamboo Island: The Planter’s Wife, A Daughter’s Promise and Bamboo Road:The Homecoming, The Tea Panter’s Club and The Amulet are also about the war in South East Asia, which together with The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu make up the Echoes of Empire Collection.

Ann is also author of The Runaway Sisters, bestselling The Orphan House, The Forgotten Children and The Child Without a Home, published by Bookouture.

The Lake Pavilion, The Lake Palace, both set in British India in the 1930s and WW2, and The Lake Pagoda and The Lake Villa, set in French Indochina during WW2, make up The Oriental Lake Collection.

Ann is married with three grown up sons and a granddaughter and works as a lawyer. For more details please visit www.annbennettauthor.com.

Author Links:

Website: https://www.annbennettauthor.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/annbennett71

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annbennettauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/annbennettauthor/

Amazon Author Page UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00D21SJ7A

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1951323.Ann_Bennett

PROLOGUE: THE FORTUNE TELLER OF KATHMANDU

There was little natural light in the cell-like room, tucked away in the back of an ancient building in the maze of narrow, cobbled streets in the heart of old Kathmandu. Despite that, Devisha had the sense that daylight was fading quickly outside, and that darkness would soon envelop the neighbourhood.  

It had been quiet that day. But the usual mix of people had made their way through the backstreets and alleyways to her door, crossed the outer chamber lit only by flickering candles, and drawn back the velvet curtain that divided Devisha’s alcove from the chamber. As they did every day, they had sat down opposite her with their timid, hopeful faces, extended their palms across the table, raised their eyes tentatively to hers before she dropped her gaze to read the future mapped out in their lines. The Line of Life, the Line of Fate, the Line of Heart, the Line of Fortune. The mounts of Jupiter, Saturn, Apollo, Mercury and Venus. Devisha knew every permutation of every line intimately, as well as what they signified. 

Today had been much like every other day. There had been the young daughter of a rice farmer from Nagarkot who had arrived with her mother. They’d walked the length of the Kathmandu valley to Devisha’s rooms. They wanted to be sure that the girl’s chosen betrothed was auspicious, and to get Devisha’s advice on the best date to set the wedding. There had been the old, stooping carpenter from Bodinath, his brow furrowed with worry. His business was failing as well as his health. He’d asked if things would pick up in the future. Then, there had been the middle-aged woman from Thamel who’d already lost three babies in childbirth. With a pleading look in her eyes, she’d wanted to know if the one she was now carrying would survive. 

All Devisha could tell them was what she saw in their palms. She could usually see, as soon as she turned a hand over in her own, peered at the palm and traced the lines with her own fingers. Their futures played out in her mind. She would try to tell them exactly what she saw, what they craved to know.  

It wasn’t always easy living with the gift that had been passed to her down the generations. She’d learned it at her mother’s knee and her mother from her grandmother before her. To witness the pain in people’s faces when she told them what she could see was sometimes hard to bear. Their heartache would often become her own. She knew she would be thinking about the woman from Thamel long into the night. But in amongst the pain was joy too, joy and light and hope for the future. She’d foreseen that the rice-farmer’s daughter’s marriage would be happy and prosperous, and that she would have a long, rich life, filled with love and laughter. 

With a sigh, Devisha got up from her chair. It was time to get ready to go home. But as she held back her veil and stooped to blow out the first candle, she heard the click and creak of the outer door. Then came footsteps. Someone was walking slowly across the chamber towards her. The footsteps stopped and, as often happened, the newcomer hesitated for a couple of seconds before pulling back the curtain and peeping through.  

The face of a stranger appeared in the flickering candlelight. A young woman, with soft dark hair and pale skin. She looked different to most of Devisha’s customers. She wasn’t local, and in this hidden quarter, it was rare to see a foreigner. Although the newcomer had Indian features, she was wearing western clothes. Devisha noticed the scepticism in the woman’s narrowed eyes, but there was a hint of curiosity, and a sort of yearning there too. 

Devisha quickly sat down and beckoned the young woman forward. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said. ‘Please, come in. Sit down. Give me your hand.’ 

The girl’s eyes flickered hesitantly, darting around the room, taking in the smoking candles, the incense and the wall hangings. Then she took a couple of steps forward, sat down in the chair opposite and extended her right hand across the red tablecloth.     

Devisha took the soft, manicured hand in her own, studied it for a few seconds. Her eyes widened and she stifled a gasp.  

This was unusual indeed. There was a lot to see in this palm. There was everything there she’d expected from such a subject, but there was more. Much, much more.

Devisha narrowed her eyes and peered closer concentrating deeply. Whatever it was, was elusive. She traced the Line of Luna with her long, painted fingernail, letting it rest briefly on the Mount of Mercury. 

This young woman would be tested, that was clear. But she was strong too. Stronger than she looked. There was something more there though… something dark, something troubling. Something that even Devisha couldn’t fathom, not straightaway. She bent forward, her many necklaces clanking against the table, and looked closer.

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