All Camped Out

Back home for good now after nomadic couple of weeks camping in France, and then in my stepmother’s field for our annual family get-together (aka the Olympics). However, joy of waking up this morning between clean sheets in a proper bed is somewhat mitigated by feelings of utter despair at the overwhelming amount of washing, sorting out and putting away of kit required, so have retreated up to my office to comfort-eat pistachio nuts and catch up on emails and computer stuff. Alas, now feel completely overwhelmed by that too.

France was lovely. We went with friends and, unwilling to squander precious holiday driving long distances, decided to go no further than Normandy where we set up camp on a site in the grounds of a fabulous, crumbling chateau. We were right on the shore of a huge lake, where the children could canoe and fish for the giant carp we glimpsed in its olive green depths (and which would occasionally leap up, as if laughing at their efforts.)

We were in the lush heart of Calvados country, and it was absolutely beautiful…

This was the setting I chose for Taken For Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure and it was every bit as luscious as I'd pictured it. In many ways, with its fields of cows and orchards and timbered buildings it was a lot like Cheshire, but distinctively French and ergo more stylish. I repeatedly got us lost by failing to read the map because I was so busy gazing out at the glorious countryside and shrieking with excitement as I caught glimpses of fairy-tale castles behind ornate wrought iron gates, and farmhouses, looking like film-sets and displaying the kind of effortless distressed elegance that I constantly fail to achieve at home, which appeared through boughs of ripening apples.

In the evenings in our lakeside camp the seven children turned our tent into a gambling den, obsessively playing Black Jack for mini Mars Bars while we sat outside conducting comprehensive taste-tests on the local cider and wine and spotting shooting stars. One day we went to Honfleur and took refuge from a torrential downpour in a pavement restaurant for a long, boozy and memorable lunch (which sparked off lots of inspiration) and another we drove up and along the coast to Arromanches, soaking up the D-Day history with avid fascination. Faded, fabulous Deauville was another place where inspiration was everywhere (although sadly tall, dark, handsome James Bond actors were nowhere to be found...)

I don't think we would have managed to drag ourselves home at all if it hadn't been for the lure of the Family Olympics a few days later, and the necessity of putting together fancy dress costumes. This year each team was given a letter of the alphabet to base their theme around: as Team G, my nephew (pictured below - how cool?) came up with the idea of Goths, which gave me the perfect excuse to give my corset another outing. (Had to let the laces out at least an inch from last year though. Oops. I blame Cristiano.)

The weekend flew by in a warm blur of wine, nostalgia and laughs interspersed with the odd game of Swimming pool Egg and Spoon and Lawn Darts. I enjoyed an unprecedented level of success in the games this year (demonstrating particular finesse in the Spud Tossing event, though I say so myself) however, I have to admit that the fact that the Goths brought home bronze medals was largely down to my competitive, competent alpha-male team-mates (Thanks boys!) No room to bask in glory though as Gold went to Daughter #3 in Team C (Circus) and Silver went to Daughter #1 and my sister-in-law in Team M (Military - showing that you can be killer competitors while also looking like Cheryl Cole in the Fight for this Love video. How is that fair?)

Anyway, now we're home and they've returned to languishing in their bedrooms like consumptive Victorians while I trail around sorting out the aftermath of two camping trips like a below-stairs skivvy, I'm wondering if introducing some kind of competitive element into household chores will induce them to help? Speed Ironing, perhaps. Or Hoover Relay. Or how about The 'Pick up all your Stuff from the Floor before I take it to the Charity Shop' Challenge? Think this might be my only chance of getting back to my poor neglected book...

So, what's been happening while I've been away? Fill me in on all the news!

Blogging Away

I have a post up at iheartpresents today. Well, I say post-- what I mean is bizarre confessional rant about the problems I had writing the book formerly known as Olivier and Bella's story (now called Taken for Revenge Bedded for Pleasure). This is because it's out in the US this month-- a fact which I really should have done more to celebrate, but if you pop over to iheartpresents and can think of anything at all to say to my weird outpouring, leave a comment and I'll pick a name at the end to send a copy to. (And that's exactly the kind of badly-constructed sentence I'm trying to banish from my current work in progress.)


This book might have been one of my least favourite to write, but without a doubt it's my top cover. Look at all that bare bronzed flesh and passion...

And come back tomorrow to compare it to the cover of my September release (Spanish Aristocrat, Forced Bride) and weep with me over what's happened to Tristan...

I shouldn't be here, but...

...Before I disappear into deep hibernation with only my laptop and my secret stash of Christmas chocolate to try and get this blooming book written, there are a few things I really should mention. Firstly that I have a book out this month, which seems quite amazing given that I never seem to actually get around to doing any writing at the moment. Taken for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure which is the one that gave me countless sleepless nights and a few panic attacks this time last year is now available in the shops, at Mills & Boon’s website and on Amazon. Check out my lovely cover....


Secondly (squeaking with barely suppressed excitement here) I can finally reveal after a couple of months of maintaining an agonising and most uncharacteristically discreet silence that Mistress: Hired for the Billionaire’s Pleasure has been (squeak) shortlisted for the RNA Romance Prize.

This is utterly fantastic news, and even though I found out a while ago my first reaction when I saw this last night was to let out a shriek and run for the fridge to see if there was anything fizzy and celebratory left lurking amongst the sad remnants of Christmas cheese and wilting parsnips. It was only later, when I looked again to check that I hadn’t dreamt it, that I experienced a thud of horror at the realisation that the lovely RNA people have kindly provided a link to my website... which, because I am a techno-dullard with personal organisation/ time management issues and a Phd in Procrastination, isn't there. So instead people are being directed here, and now I feel like someone who has drunkenly invited everyone they know round for a party and then forgotten all about it, so is caught out lying on the sofa in pyjamas eating Cheerios from the packet when guests start arriving. (If you have, by any chance, come here hoping for information about the nominated book, please accept my most embarrassed apologies. I blogged at length about it here and here and here and here if that’s any help at all...?)

As you can see, the other shortlisted books are utterly brilliant and by authors I adore. (With proper websites.) For this reason He and I made sure we celebrated the fact that I’m included in such talented company back in November when I first heard, so I won’t feel that I’ve missed out on a champagne opportunity when the results are announced at the awards ceremony on 10th February.

Orlando and Rachel seem to be having a bit of a moment just now, because I also found out last week from lovely Michelle Styles that Mistress: Hired for the Billionaire’s Pleasure had made the Romantic Times Top Pick for this month. I don’t subscribe so I haven’t seen it myself but Abby Green sent over the review for me...

MISTRESS: HIRED FOR THE BILLIONAIRE'S PLEASURE (4.5) by India Grey: On the run from a forced wedding, pianist Rachel Campion lands on Orlando Winterton's doorstep -- ironic, because it was a prior chance meeting with him that gave her the courage to bolt. A former pilot, Orlando is living in seclusion because he's losing his sight -- information he doesn't share with Rachel, even after they become lovers. Orlando tries to send Rachel away for her own sake, not realizing her happiness is already linked with his. Vividly detailed characters, an intense conflict and a high level of sensuality make this a fabulous read. This is one for the keeper shelf. —Catherine Witmer

Final snippet of news is that this morning The Guardian newspaper is carrying a piece on its front page about a new M&B continuity series which has been written in association with the RFU and ties in with the Six Nations rugby tournament. This begins in February with Sarah Morgan’s delicious ‘The Prince's Waitress Wife'. My book At the Argentinean Billionaire’s Bidding is second in the series—it’s the one about lovely Alejandro D'Arienzo; ex-England international rugby player who returns to his native Argentina to take up polo and forget about the woman he thinks betrayed him. It involved lots of glorious rugby ‘research’ which I can’t wait to fill you in on-- as soon as I can justify writing anything that isn’t the book I’m supposed to be working on right now...

Blimey. I think that's it... I'm now off to look up my horoscope for this week. Bet it says; ‘The first 6 days of 2009 will be filled with so much excitement your head might explode. However, absolutely nothing interesting is going to happen to you in the following 359 days, although the full moon in the second week of July will lead you to discover a new brand of fabric conditioner and weird planetary alignments at the end of October may mean that a trip to the post office to renew your car tax will yield surprising results.’ Or something.

Blessed by the Cover Fairy

Hallelujah. After Polyester Shirt Man, and Bouffant Neanderthal Car Mechanic, at last I have some gorgeous cover totty.

My advance copies of Olivier and Bella's story arrived yesterday. I think I'm in love.

I'm back!

... after a lovely half term, during which I didn't do a stroke of work and had more sleep than I've had in the past two months put together probably. I also

♥ became the mother of a teenager
♥ took the girls for lunch at a sushi bar, and discovered that children will eat anything (even raw eel) if it comes on prettily coloured plates and is delivered to them by conveyor belt
♥ stayed in my pyjamas until 3pm one day
♥ Read Fiona Harper’s gorgeous book ‘English Lord Ordinary Lady’ (un-coincidentally, the same day as the pyjamas until 3pm thing happened...)
♥ spoke to my editor and found out that Olivier’s book has been titled Taken for Revenge, Bedded for Pleasure. Love that!
♥ made—at various times— 24 valentines fairy cakes, 36 chocolate chip cookies, 1 loaf of banana tea bread (to use up the bananas that no-one was eating because of all the fairy cakes and cookies) and 1 chocolate orange birthday cake.
♥ watched Penny Jordan being glamorous, articulate and gracious on the Richard and Judy talk show, with another of my romance writing heroines Jilly Cooper.
♥ finally got around to tidying the cupboard under the bathroom sink.

Children are now back at school so the house seems very quiet and (apart from the cupboard under the bathroom sink) very messy. However, am going to ignore that and begin researching my new book. It’s going to involve a lot of tea, toast and youtube...

(er, that's the research process, not the book!)

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger...

...or so the saying goes. By that token once this book is finally out of my hands I’ll be a total leviathan. In the meantime I am a bad-tempered, sleep-deprived harridan with huge black bags beneath my eyes (like the ones currently piling up outside around our post-Christmas dustbin) and a bizarre and completely uncharacteristic craving for heavy slasher emo-rock. (Have been re-writing the ending, and this is the song I’ve been playing, loudly and in a continual loop. Honestly, it’s not normal, I tell you....)

Anyway, hope everyone is having a good start to 2008. Already I think I’ve managed to trash pretty much all of my resolutions... Let’s see, there was the chocolate one (non-starter) the exercise one (ha!) and the blogging more often one (what’s the date again?). Oh well, I guess that things can only get better from here...

Today's Tea Towel Philosophy...

I don't actually mean to become the Queen of tea towel wisdom, but I really do think that this one should find a place on my Christmas list too. I could definitely have done with one to blow my nose and mop up my tears the other night as I realised The Deadline was not going to be met...

Happily, much advice and handholding from certain wonderful writing friends and a quick phonecall with my excessively lovely editor have resulted in deadline reprieve, and the first proper night's sleep I've had in weeks. Hurrah! I can now catch up on some of the stuff I've been neglecting so badly of late, like updating my website, going through my proofs for Orlando (which I don't think I've mentioned is going to be called Mistress: Hired for the Billionaire's Pleasure and will be out in August next year), paying crushing dinner money debts and cleaning the bath.

I can also take a little time to fall in love with the book again.

In the interests of fairness...

Here's another picture of my current hero. I think perhaps he might have been sulking at the proliferation of other men around here, which would account for his present refusal to co-operate with the story.

(See that pained expression....?

...If he doesn't start behaving himself soon I'm going to give him very good reason for it.)

It's half term, so the opportunities for whipping him into shape are minimal I'm afraid. Today we are waiting in for the delivery of a new freezer, which, following on from my initiation into online shopping, is the next stage in my plan to become a total hermit for weeks on end as deadlines loom.

I am painfully aware as I write all this that there is no way to make it sound less dull than it is.

Ho hum.

Back to Business

Have been so taken up by my role as founder member of Scrubbers Anonymous that I completely forgot to mention the exciting fact that I have been invited to join the rather dazzling list of writers over at the Harlequin Presents Authors' site. Even more excitingly, I am this month's featured author, which is great because a) when I wrote my piece for it I'd just got back from London, so had something glamorous to write about and didn't have to obsess about cleaning, and b) this month sees the American release of The Italian's Defiant Mistress, so the timing is perfect. Anyway, if you've arrived at this blog via a link from the site, a big hello and thank you for visiting!


On the current book front.... I'm now at the stage where the ideas are piling up crazily in my head and I just have to be patient and tell the story until I can get to the places where they slot in. It's not easy. Especially when I seem to be plagued by the presence of a constant stream of British Gas men at the moment, all searching for the elusive solution to the leaking pipes. The search seems to involve a lot of tea-drinking and much important typing on laptops in fab little zip-up cases.


I find this last bit particularly annoying, as thanks to the incessant interruption, I'm doing hardly any typing at all.

Hoping for a return to squalor

Am up early and feeling unusually positive this morning. Yesterday was the first day for ages (months?) that I managed to write anything proper, and finally felt like I’m getting to know these new characters.

It's always instantly apparent when the writing is going well because the house (and me) descends into filthy chaos and neglect, the children go feral and meals are haphazard, last-minute concoctions usually featuring pasta. This week however, I have not only cleaned the fridge (oh yes, Rachel!) but also painted my toenails, taught Daughter #3 how to play draughts (and subsequently played approximately 87 games) and made jam tarts. All very bad signs indeed, although the lowest point came on Tuesday when I found myself scrubbing behind the basin taps with a toothbrush, and actually considering clearing out the airing cupboard.

It was a scary moment.

I'm hoping nothing that desperate will happen again for a long time. Today I feel like I'm back in business, and can't wait to write the bit where the hero and heroine have their first actual conversation. It's a tricky bit; my head is already with them, and I've been scribbling down snatches of dialogue since I woke up.

The house is a tip. All the signs are good. Normal service has been resumed.