Jenny Twist was born in York and brought up in the West Yorkshire mill town of Heckmondwike, the eldest grandchild of a huge extended family.
She left school at fifteen and went to work in an asbestos factory. After working in various jobs, including bacon-packer and escapologist’s assistant (she was The Lovely Tanya), she returned to full-time education and did a BA in history, at Manchester and post-graduate studies at Oxford.
She stayed in Oxford working as a recruitment consultant for many years and it was there that she met and married her husband, Vic.
In 2001 they retired and moved to Southern Spain where they live with their rather eccentric dogs and cat. Besides writing, she enjoys reading, knitting and attempting to do fiendishly difficult logic puzzles.
In July 2018 she won the Author Show TOP FEMALE AUTHOR Fantasy/Horror/Paranormal/Science Fiction award.

When Angela turns up in a remote Spanish mountain village, she is so tall and so thin and so pale that everyone thinks she is a ghost or a fairy or the dreadful mantequero that comes in the night and sucks the fat from your bones. 
But Domingo knows better. “Soy Angela,” she said to him when they met – “I am an angel.” Only later did he realise that she was telling him her name and by then it was too late and everyone knew her as Domingo’s Angel. 
This is the story of their love affair. But it is also the story of the people of the tiny mountain village – the indomitable Rosalba - shopkeeper, doctor, midwife and wise woman, who makes it her business to know everything that goes on in the village; Guillermo, the mayor, whose delusions of grandeur are rooted in his impoverished childhood; and Salva the Baker, who risked his life and liberty to give bread to the starving children.
The events in this story are based on the real experiences of the people of the White Villages in Southern Spain and their struggle to keep their communities alive through the years of war and the oppression of Franco’s rule. 


Domingo's Angel

Angela awoke to the sound of tremendous crashes and bangings and leapt out of bed in some alarm, tripping over the hem of her nightie and stumbling into the other room. Domingo was kneeling on the floor, wielding an enormous hammer, knocking a hole through the wall.


"Domingo!" Angela shrieked. "Whatever are you doing?"


Domingo turned round and smiled at her, his face streaked with dirt and plaster. "Hello, Angela," he said. "I am making a fireplace."


Angela looked at him in disbelief. He was kneeling in a pile of rubble, proudly pointing out the considerable hole he had made in the wall. Beyond it she could see the hillside and the goat enclosure. The living room looked as if a bomb had hit it and the air was thick with dust.


"Whatever for? What do we need a fireplace for?"


Domingo stood up and spread out his hands. 


"If we are to live here in the winter we will need a fireplace," he said.


"But... but," Angela began, "my dad said it was never cold in Spain."


Chapter 28