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

"They took me to the jail in Malaga." Salva was sitting in Rosalba's back kitchen, wincing slightly as she removed the dressings. "It was unspeakable. Every so often they took people out and shot them. You never knew when it would be your turn. I was so glad when they took me to work in the labour camp."


Rosalba raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.


"It was near Madrid. You wouldn't believe it." Salva gave a dry chuckle with no humour in it whatsoever. "We were building a monument to El Generalcissimo."


Rosalba instinctively looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was in earshot.


"I was one of the lucky ones." Rosalba raised her eyebrows again. "Most of them died." Salva looked down at his exposed feet. They were looking quite pink and healthy.


"No real harm done," Rosalba said. "The flesh is coming back. I think they will be as good as new in a week or so." She began to put on new dressings.


Chapter 39