Books and writing have always been an enormous part of Anita's life. She survived school by hiding out in the library, with several thousand fictional characters for company. At university, she overcame the boredom of studying accountancy by squeezing in Egyptology papers and learning to read hieroglyphics.

Today, Anita writes historical fantasy novels from her home in rural New Zealand.

You can find her on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/AWExley

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In 1918 England, join an Edwardian Cinderella on her journey to defeat the undead and find her happily ever after

Part 1: Ella,The Slayer
Seventeen-year-old Ella copes the best she can scrubbing the floors, and slaying the undead. Then the new Duke of Leithfield arrives in the village and working alongside Seth, Ella glimpses a future she never dreamed was possible. But in overstepping society's boundaries, she could lose everything - home, head and her heart...

Part 2: Alice, The Player
Ella must venture down a rabbit hole, but this is no wonderland...
When Alice goes missing without a trace, the new vermin queen sends an invitation--Ella is welcome to try and rescue her friend, before Elizabeth lets her subjects tear the housemaid apart.

Part 3: Rory, The Sleeper
Could the long dead duchess, Millicent deMage, be the key to understanding the pandemic of vermin? The final battle is looming, but this might be one fight Ella can't win, and she will be the one put to sleep forever...

Part 4 Bonus: Henry, the Gaoler
On the frontlines of the Great War, Henry kept a token of happier times - a worn photograph of a young girl with long blonde plaits. He returns from war damaged and vowing to do one brave thing to make up for his cowardice - release Hazel from her prison. But is it safe with the pandemic and its horrific aftermath?



Serenity House

All through November and December, at every opportunity, I braved the frigid night time temperatures and waited in sight of the tower for Hazel to drop the ladder. I would spend an hour or two in her company. She would read and I would sketch her profile as the moonlight caressed the planes of her face.


Christmas 1918 arrived and I was determined to be with the girl who held my heart. In double layers and with a wool cap shoved down hard on my head, Cossimo and I rode out to our familiar lookout point. I carried a bribe to console the gelding while we stood the lonely watch, a feedbag with oats. His eyes lit up as I carried it over to him and he dropped his nose into the canvas. That made it easier to slip the strap over his head. Quiet munching came from behind as I leaned against a barren tree and stared at the tower.


Chapter 85