top of page
Writer's pictureKirsty Whitlock

The Promise Tree by Elisabeth Hobbes. Extract


Check out this absolutely brilliant looking and sounding book!!! I'm gutted I couldn't squeeze a review in but read on to find out more about this book plus an extract.


To learn more about this book, read more about Elisabeth, read an extract and get your copy just keep reading.


If you want to see your book shared on social media like this one please get in touch.



@ThePromiseTree @ElisabethHobbes @OneMoreChapter @HarperCollins @HarperCollinsUK @GuestPost @Extract @RachelsRandomResources @rararesources @CoverReveal @Spotlight @BlogTour @BooksOnTour @Goodreads @Amazon @AmazonKindle @Bookstagram @Bookblogger





Book Description


When does a story begin?


For Edwin Hope, it begins with a childhood dare and a forbidden tree. It begins with him falling … in

more ways than one.


Called home from his studies by the grandfather who has always hated him, eighteen-year-old Edwin

is once again trapped in a house that is colder than the winds whipping across the fields. Seeking

sanctuary, he escapes into the untamed beauty of the Peaks and meets a woman who sparks an old

memory. A memory of the sycamore that broke him, and the little girl who saved him.


Drusilla has had many acolytes over the centuries but none like Edwin. With the Great War looming

and Edwin’s future uncertain, she knows the right thing to do is to set him free from her spell, but

can she do so if it means breaking her own heart?




The Promise Tree Excerpt



In this excerpt the sycamore tree dryad has an encounter with the gardener who

works on the land belonging to Edwin’s grandfather. Although Edwin doesn’t suspect it, the

old man has more knowledge and belief in such things. Edwin has been sent to live with

relatives in Yorkshire as a result of his disobedience in returning to the tree where he had

broken his arm and the gardener has come to confront the dryad.


The Old One returned a fortnight after he had taken the Sapling away; strode into her

grove as if he owned it.


He stopped beneath the branches, sharp eyes searching. “Where are you?”


The Sapling’s attention had nourished her more than she realised she had needed. His

words had been so pretty and innocent and she was ravenous for more. She sighed

contentedly at the memory, a susurration in the silence. After years alone, the hedgerow had

been breached, noise and confusion, life and activity intruding into her isolation after so long

constricted in the solitude of the grove. She straightened her limbs in preparation of the

descent.


“Show yourself. I demand it.”


Her limbs flexed in indignation at his tone. Sooner or later, they always believed they

owned everything. No reverence or wonder, only dismissal and contempt. And anger in this

one’s case. The Old One searched high in the branches but she still did not reveal herself to

him. Why should she, when he’d given nothing in exchange? Not even a kind word. She

tightened her fist around the glass marble that the Sapling had given in exchange for a sliver

of the luck she was able to bestow.


“I want my Sapling,” she murmured and the wind caused the leaves to rustle almost

imperceptibly.


The feeling surprised her. She wasn’t given to wanting, knowing that wishes were

rarely – if ever – granted, but he’d been a strange, determined little Sapling and had piqued

her curiosity.


The Old One jerked his head upwards at the movement in the branches.


“Young Edwin said he talked to a little girl.” The old man stuck his hands into his

trouser pockets and narrowed his eyes. “Now, I don’t know what he saw, but I do know that

according to my father, my grandfather planted this hedgerow when my grandmother’s tears

at his straying up here to visit a woman became too much to bear.”


He gestured around with an arm, taking in the circle of thorns and thistles that

enclosed her grove. She followed the arm with her eyes but her mind was on his face. A

memory stirred of a younger man who shared this Old One’s features. Handsome and tall,

with hair so fair it was almost silver and hands that loved the soil. It was unsettling. A

grandson? How long had she been sleeping while the thorns grew around her?


The Old One put his hands in his trouser pockets and walked back and forth, his eyes

on the ground. He cleared his throat and looked up again.


“I’m not certain what your kind is, but if anything the old stories say is true, I know

you’ll tempt and beguile just to be loved.”


She laughed then.


Loved? Foolish Old One. It wasn’t love she desired, but veneration; that’s what she

deserved.


He pulled his hand out of his pocket. There was something in it. Interest caught, she

peered closer, trying to see what the gnarled hand contained. A gift or an exchange? She

watched closely, tempted to reveal herself.


“Young Edwin is not yours.”


He put the object in both hands and fiddled with it. She heard a scraping sound and

then there was a flare of heat and light; an explosion in her head. Her core felt the sharpness

of fear.


“Do you know what this is?” the Old One asked.


She shuddered and the branches rippled.


Fire.


“I promised the Sapling not to replace the hedge because that clearly matters to him

and I am a man of my word.”

He looked up and for a moment she would have sworn on her heart that he saw her. She

stared boldly into his eyes.


“My word is this: you leave him alone or you will burn.” He sighed and shook his

head sadly, as if his threat pained him.


“You’re too green now, but in another month those leaves of yours will change and

before the winter sets in there will be a time when you’re good for kindling.”


He lifted the fire to his mouth and blew gently, extinguishing the small dancing flame.

She sighed with relief as the flicker died away, leaving only the wisp of smoke rising

upwards and the scent of soot in the air. She slipped down from branch to branch.


“He’s leaving and he won’t be back for many years, but when he does come, you’ll

remember my words.”


She closed her eyes. She would remember them as clearly as if they were carved onto

her trunk.


The Old One nodded his head towards her and backed out of the grove. It was the

most meagre deference but the acknowledgement that she deserved courtesy gave her a sliver of the reverence that sustained her. She directed a burst of hatred towards the Old One, with

his aggression and accusations and threats, but she knew it was futile. She, who should be

able to cause branches to strike, could do nothing more than raise a slight undulation of

twigs. An immeasurable fatigue descended upon her, lethargy weakening her limbs. She slid

down from branch to branch and landed at the foot of the tree. The soil was moist and cold

beneath her feet and she wriggled her toes, grounding herself. She inhaled, savouring the

musky, damp scents that surrounded her.


She leaned back against the trunk, drawing comfort from the reassuring roughness of

the bark and closed her eyes. The beat of her heart and the pulse in her limbs fused with the

slow, steady rhythm of the tree – too slow and low for the Old One to have heard or felt but it

was there all the same.




Author Bio


Elisabeth’s writing career began in 2013 when she entered Harlequin's So You Think You

Can Write contest and it turned out she could. She writes romantic Historical fiction as Elisabeth

Hobbes and Historical folklore/fantasy inspired romance as Elisabeth J. Hobbes.


She teaches Primary school but would rather write full time because unlike five year olds her

characters generally do what she tells them. She spends most of her spare time reading and is a pro

at cooking one-handed while holding a book.


She lives in Cheshire because the car broke down there in 1999 and she never left. Elisabeth has two

almost grown kids, two cats, two dogs and a husband. The whole family are on the autistic spectrum

and that probably includes the pets! She dreams of having a tidy house one day.




Social Media Links








Purchase Link








3 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Zero Kill by M.K Hill . Promo

Book Description A TIMES BEST NEW THRILLER PICK 'Runs at breakneck speed through a dark and dangerous universe populated with characters...

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
Post: Blog2 Post
bottom of page