“Would You Let Her In?”
‘Forget My Name’
by J.S. Monroe
Blog Tour Extract

If you are a regular visitor to Fiction Books, this is another of those posts for which you might be forgiven for thinking I have ‘lost the plot’ a little!

But No! – not just yet anyway!

This is indeed the second time this book and author have featured in a Blog Tour, organized by the lovely Vicky from Aria Fiction / Head Of Zeus. Originally, back in December 2018 Forget My Name was released as an ebook, however it has now also been published as a paperback edition, for all you lovers of the ‘real’ thing, which has triggered a second promotional tour.

Once again I have been allocated an extract from the book to share as my Blog Tour spot, however if you would like to refresh your memory about my previously featured extract, you can read it here.

If you do decide to back-track a little to previous posts, you’ll also be sure to notice the most immediate difference between the two editions – the amazing colour change! So, red or blue, which do you prefer?

This Blog Tour banner only features the blogs which are posting alongside Fiction Books. However the total tour is four times this size, in which case HUGE!, so why not check out some of the other great Guest Posts, reviews and extracts. There is sure to be something for everyone!

…

FORGET MY NAME

How do you know who to trust…
…when you don’t even know who you are?

You are outside your front door.
There are strangers in your house.
Then you realise. You can’t remember your name.

She arrived at the train station after a difficult week at work. Her bag had been stolen, and with it, her identity. Her whole life was in there – passport, wallet, house key. When she tried to report the theft, she couldn’t remember her own name. All she knew was her own address.

Now she’s outside Tony and Laura’s front door. She says she lives in their home. They say they have never met her before.

One of them is lying.

…

J. S. MONROE

J.S.Monroe is the pseudonym of the British author Jon Stock.

After reading English at Magdalene College, Cambridge, Jon worked as a freelance journalist in London, writing features for most of Britain’s national newspapers, as well as contributing to BBC Radio 4. He was also chosen for Carlton TV’s acclaimed screenwriters course.

In 1995 he lived in Kochi in Kerala, where he worked on the staff of India’s The Week magazine. Between 1998 and 2000, he was a foreign correspondent in Delhi, writing for the Daily Telegraph, South China Morning Post and the Singapore Straits Times. He also wrote the Last Word column in The Week magazine from 1995 to 2012.

On his return to Britain in 2000, Jon worked on various Saturday sections of the Telegraph before taking up a staff job as editor of its flagship Weekend section in 2005, which he oversaw for five years. He left Weekend and the Telegraph in 2010 to finish writing his Daniel Marchant trilogy and returned to the Telegraph in February 2013 to oversee their digital books channel. In May 2014 he was promoted to Executive Head of Weekend and Living, editing the paper’s Saturday and Sunday print supplements, as well as a range of digital lifestyle channels. He left the paper in October 2015 to resume his thriller-writing career.

As Jon Stock, he is the successful author of a number of spy novels and now as J.S. Monroe, he is busily writing standalone psychological thrillers.

Jon lives in Wiltshire with his wife and children.

Keep up with all the latest news on J.S.’s website

Follow J.S on Twitter

Connect with J.S on Facebook

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BLOG TOUR EXTRACT

EXTRACT 2 – (BOOK LOCATION UNKNOWN)

I sit up in my seat, aware of people passing on the pavement outside the window. It’s disconcerting to hear myself being discussed in this medical way.

‘Would you like some water?’ Dr Patterson offers, sensing my discomfort.

I nod, watching as she fills a glass from a plastic bottle and passes it to me.

‘I’m just going to take your blood pressure,’ she says, getting up from her chair. ‘Have a listen to your heart, check your breathing.’

She continues to talk as she wraps a sleeve around my arm, fastening it with Velcro before starting to inflate it. I try to relax, concentrate on my breath, the lower part of my lungs.

‘Do you know today’s date?’ she asks. I shake my head. ‘The month? Year?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. This is all so hard.

‘Where we are?’

Another shake of the head. I hear Fleur’s voice in my ear. Right now all I want to do is curl up in bed and cry.

‘It’s OK,’ she says, undoing the Velcro. ‘I’d also like to perform a brief neurological examination.’

My hands tense as she picks up a stethoscope from her desk. After listening to my heart, she conducts a series of tests, assessing my balance, eye movements and visual field, shining a torch into my pupils and checking facial and neck muscles. It’s then that she reaches for her ophthalmoscope. An image of a white coat comes and goes.

‘I just need to examine your retina,’ she says, noticing me flinch. ‘And look for raised intracranial pressure,’ she continues, her cheek close to mine. ‘All seems fine.’

She sits down again, putting the instrument back on her desk. My eyes linger on it for a second before I look away.

‘Some people experience “anterograde amnesia”, which is when you can’t form new memories. They can recall the past, before the event that caused the amnesia, but nothing afterwards. Let’s see what you can remember tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep.’

‘How do you mean?’ I ask.

‘It’s possible you could forget everything that’s happened today.’

…