Historical Fiction

When the café on the corner first opened its doors in the August of 1923, Pierre Goddard and his father thought their clientele would consist mostly of businessmen. Twenty-one years later, his father long gone from polio, with shoulder-length grey hair in a bun, the physical manifestation of a man in a mid-life crisis, and a World War in full swing, it had become frequented by Nazis.

London 2017 Funny high rise buildings, mushrooming up in certain parts of London. The razor sharp Shard is being obscured by competition, racing to...

Gageby doubled back and boarded, through the course of the morning, two trams heading in different directions. The jaunty feather in his trilby was...

"Darling, do you know the worst part about being fired out of a cannon?" Rossa Richter takes a sip of her pre-prandial sherry and places a frail hand...