KISSING FROGS AND DOGS - New release

Tomorrow (22 June) will see the release of my 11th full-length novel, 'KISSING FROGS AND DOGS' - and you can pre-order now for delivery to your Kindle as soon as it goes live! Also available in paperback at Lulu.

THE BLURB:

Daisy's given up on love.
 
She's had the dirty done on her once too often and has put her heart on ice.
 
A chance meeting with a sexy singleton leaves her kicking herself - what a time to become a Born Again Virgin! - but when he suggests she gets a dog for company, she can't begin to imagine the complications that follow.
 
Join Daisy as she falls head over heels with her four-legged friend, discovers that not all men are mongrels and realises that sometimes, once you stop looking, you'll find exactly what you've been searching for.
 
‘KISSING FROGS AND DOGS’
Which one will lead to a fairy-tail ending?

I'm often asked where I get my inspiration from and, with this book, the answer is easy.  Around about last June I decided that the need for a dog in my life was too great to ignore anymore.  The time was right and a niggling thought began to tell me that it was almost essential that I listened to my gut feeling.  Much searching online, convinced that I'd find a dog who 'spoke' to me, and two months later a black bundle of fur, fun and love came into our lives in the shape of Alfie.

I'm a firm believer that many things happen for a reason. Why was it suddenly the right time to take on another little life?  For those who know me well, it's blindingly clear.  Alfie came to help me during the difficult time of my mum passing and to remind me to smile through the grieving process.  In short, he's been my saviour.

So, that got me thinking about how a dog can change a life and thus 'KISSING FROGS AND DOGS' was born. Alfie was by my side as every word was written.  He was my buddy when I returned to work after losing my mum thinking I'd never get the book finished and he forced me to get up and get on with it - and on the days I couldn't, to just go walking until the block lifted.

Without Alfie, there would be no book.  Although don't tell him that - he might want me to give him his share of the royalties to feed his addiction to Doggy Chocs.

So without further ado, here's . . .

Chapter One

'I really think that tonight may be the night, Grace.  Women get a feeling for these things, don't they?'

I was celebrating my twenty-eighth birthday with my best buddy and a mountain of cakes, sandwiches and Earl Grey tea at a posh hotel in Mayfair.  We'd talked about doing it for years and, with the money finally in my account from a particularly lucrative illustrating job, I'd decided to treat us both.

Through a mouthful of egg and cress, Grace replied, nodding enthusiastically, 'Oh, deffo!  When Milo proposed, I practically said yes before the question even had a chance to form on his lips - I just knew it was coming.'  She rubbed her enormously pregnant tummy and continued, 'Oooh ... pass me another smoked salmon sarnie.  Bubba's hungry today.'

Grace and Milo's whirlwind romance and almost instant baby making had given me hope in the wilderness of single life and disastrous dates.  Theirs was a classic love story that made your heart flutter and your pulse quicken - every girl's dream.  In true tradition, their eyes had met across a crowded bar and ... bam ... within a flash, they knew.  There was no going back - they were done for!  He'd bought her a drink, asked her how many babies she wanted and within a week he'd proposed.  No one questioned it.  They were just so right.  He adored everything about her and she reciprocated.  Their happiness gave the rest of us saddo singletons the faith we needed to keep on looking and to believe that love was out there for us somewhere.

Shortly after Grace and Milo married, I bumped into Reece - quite literally.  I was late for a meeting with an author and their publisher, and my head was filled with pixies, magic dust and flying unicorns.  No, I hadn't been on LSD - my mind's usually away with the fairies because that's what I do best.  My speciality, as my friends call it, is LaLaLand.  It's a cosy place to live and certainly beats the real world.  When the going gets tough, I sketch a mystical creature who bestows love on the world and everything is sparkly and shiny again.

Anyway ... I digress.  Bumping into Reece shook me up a bit.  You see, I'd convinced myself that I'd have the same thunderbolt moment with the man of my dreams.  After all, as best friends, hadn't Grace and I always spookily followed one another in the patterns of our fortunes - good and bad?

Let me give you a few examples so that you don't start to get the impression that I'm totally loop-de-loop and I think you'll see what I mean:

I lost my beloved mum when I was only fifteen.

Grace lost hers a year later.

My dad remarried an older lady - the lovely Elsa.

Grace's dad also found love again - except he bought himself a rather young Thai bride on the internet and was happily knackering and bankrupting himself.

My dad has since passed away but he left me with the best stepmum I could have hoped for.  Grace's is OK too but she looks more like a lady-boy and constantly pinches Grace's clothes and her dad's money.

We both failed our driving tests three times before we eventually passed, had our tonsils out at eleven, had crushes on two separate boys called Tim when we were in the sixth form and neither of us passed our GCSE maths despite numerous attempts.

You see?  So, once she met her Prince Charming, I just knew that it wouldn't be long before I followed suit and I was ready and waiting, legs waxed and sexy underwear on ice.

My collision with Reece was just the way I'd come to expect my own love story to begin.  Lady Luck, fate, Cupid, or whoever had the responsibility for the meeting of soul mates, had plotted and planned to lead us both to that moment when we made our connection - in our case, my head with his back as I hurried through one of those stupid glass spinny doors where you're meant to stay in your own section.  As we both spewed out the other side of it and I fell in a heap on the marble entrance hall, he bent to pick up my bag, file, umbrella and mobile and I swear I heard angels singing.  The bemused twinkle in his eye set off butterflies I didn't even know I had - certainly far more than any that had ever fluttered before.  This was it!

'Well, I've heard of falling for someone, but this is ridiculous!' he said as he took my hand to help me to my feet.

Corny?  Yes!  Win me over?  What do you think?

My poor besotted brain struggled to get through my scheduled meeting - not helped by the fact that the book I'd been asked to illustrate was about a Princess bride and her excruciatingly handsome Prince - because after helping me from the floor, Reece had asked if he could meet me for coffee.  Just to see that I hadn't broken anything, he'd said with yet more of that wonderful eye-dancing stuff.

It had been almost six months since that joyous day and I was walking on Cloud Ninety-Nine.  He was good looking, solvent, generous, attentive, funny and rather good in bed.  The only downside was he worked a little too hard - always at weekends - and I worried that I might end up being a lonely wife and mother.  A small price to pay though for having him in my life, but I was sure that once the first stunning baby came along he'd cut down on his hours a bit.

'Where's he taking you?' Grace asked as she devoured a slice of Madeira cake.  'That could give you a better idea.'

'He's booked a table at The Ivy.  Pretty special, huh?'

Grace smiled approvingly, pouring more tea into our fine bone china cups.  'Oh yes!  That does seem like he might be about to pop the question.  Have you got something new to wear?'

'I bought a gorgeous little black dress and some killer heels.  Figured I couldn't go wrong with those.'

'Lucky you!  I couldn't get this bod anywhere near anything little right now - and as for killer heels, just about any shoes cripple me at the moment.'

'Yes, well with any luck, this time next year it'll be me complaining about those sorts of problems.  Oh, Grace!  I can't wait!  Why can't it be eight o'clock already?'

'Promise me you'll ring me as soon as you can.'  Grace was clearly as excited as I was and she suddenly looked all dreamy-eyed as she stared far into the distance.  'Oh, I can just see it now - the candlelight, the soft music playing in the background, you looking good enough to eat and him all chiselled and groomed.  He'll be a little nervous - and you'll be cacking it - but he'll take your hand ever so gently and then he'll utter those words ... bloody hell ... he's over there with another woman!'

I'd been so wrapped up in Grace's description of how things might play out, like a child being lulled by a bedtime story, it took me a while to feel the impact of the dropped bombshell.  What on earth could she possibly mean - over there with another woman?

Grace had carefully placed her delicate cup and saucer onto the table and, as my eyes turned to see where she'd been looking, I kind of wish I'd done the same myself.

Dropping Royal Doulton porcelain on a marble floor makes one hell of a racket.

*****

Luckily we were at a table where we could see them but were obscured enough by a giant pillar for them not to be able to see us.  It brought bile to my mouth to watch them but it had to be done.  Maybe she was his sister or just a friend?  Maybe we were over-reacting.

The kiss he gave her as he got up was our first clue, swiftly followed by two kids who appeared from a table behind him uttering the words, 'Bye Daddy.  See you later.'

Pretty conclusive evidence, I'd say.  Wouldn't you agree?

'Oh, Daisy!'  Grace looked positively sick - either with sympathy or from excessive cake and sandwich consumption - and I pretty much felt the same.  'What are you going to do?'

I could barely think straight but I knew I couldn't just let him get up and walk out of the hotel without him knowing he'd been rumbled.  Gathering every bit of my courage and taking a massive breath, I stood and began to approach the treacherous bastard.  It would be cold comfort but I just wanted to see the look on his face when he realised that his game was up.

The woman I now assumed to be his wife smiled pleasantly at me as I got closer to their table.  Reece had his back to me as he readied to leave and turned to see who she was acknowledging.  He may just as well have had 'Guilty' branded on his forehead - the colour drained from his face, he gulped, his eyes darted like a cornered animal and I could almost hear his sphincter pucker.

Good.  He deserved it, and a whole lot more, and it was on the tip of my tongue to reveal the whole sordid story there and then - to let his, really rather pretty, wife know what a cheating heel he really was.

But then I saw his kids - two girls, wide-eyed and innocent.  Probably Daddy's girls who believed that he was the best man in the world.  I realised then that I couldn't do it to them, I couldn't rob them of that.  A vision of my own dear dad popped into my head and I had to swallow down a mounting sob.  It was because of him that I'd followed my chosen career path.  Years of bedtime stories filled with dragons, magical people and fantasy lands read in his myriad of voices had given me a vivid imagination and a dreamy outlook on life.  In light of recent events, maybe too dreamy, but I couldn't shatter these little girls' lives.  I may have drawn many wicked witches but I would never be one.

'Reece!  How lovely to see you,' I said as lightly as I could manage.  Grace later told me that it was Oscar worthy.  I then turned to his wife and added, 'Hi.  I'm Daisy.  Reece and I worked together years ago.'

'Pleased to meet you,' his wife replied, offering her soft and beautifully manicured hand.  'Was that at Newton Pierce?'

'Yes!  Yes, that's right,' Reece cut in hurriedly.  'Good to see you again, Daisy.  Where are you working now?'

Taking my final look at him and meeting his gaze head on, I replied, 'Oh, I don't work any more.  I'm married with two kids.  You know … these things happen, don't they?'

The colour returned to his face in a flush but he was unable to answer and I was done with him.  I just needed to get out while my dignity was still in one rather fragile piece.

'It was nice to finally meet you,' I said to his wife.  'Reece used to talk about you so much,' I lied with my last reserve of fake jollity and then, as I turned to walk past Reece, I mumbled loud enough for only him to hear, 'May you rot in hell, you stinking piece of crap'.

As birthdays went, it wasn't the best I'd ever had.

*****

Grace insisted that I went home with her and stayed for dinner with her and Milo.

'You can't be alone and miserable on what should have been your special day.  It's unlucky.'

'Unlucky?  Not much more can go wrong, can it?  I thought I'd be betrothed by now and instead I'm single once again and feeling like a complete and utter mug.  I hold you two wholly responsible.  If it wasn't for the fact that you and Milo had given me such unrealistic expectations, I'm sure I wouldn't have been quite so gullible.'

'That's a bit unfair, Daisy,' Milo said gently.  'We were as surprised by it all as you were.  The right man's out there for you somewhere though - you just have to believe.'

As Grace placed a bowl of ice-cream with a lit candle for me to blow out, I said, 'Well, I don't believe any more and ...' extinguishing the candle with a violent huff, added, 'You wanna hear my birthday wish?  I wish that my heart becomes like stone and I never let another man take me for a ride again.  I'm done with love!'

I hope you enjoyed the taster - and remember, you can pre-order NOW!  Also in paperback at Lulu.

Alfie has his copy!

 

Pull up a Seat at 'Catnaps & Flapjacks' !

As promised, here's the blurb and the first chapter of my next release, 'Catnaps & Flapjacks'.

If you're tempted to read more, it will be available to pre-order on Amazon for Kindle from 25 November for release on 2 December.  It will also be out in paperback at Lulu.com from the beginning of December.
 

THE BLURB

Abandoned and fostered as a babe-in-arms,

I've spent my life yearning to belong.

Pregnant at 16 by the boy I loved, I thought I'd found my happy place.

How wrong I was.

Becoming a grandmother at 34, I believed my daughter and granddaughter

were all I needed - along with the cats I cherish in my café.

Wrong again!

Suddenly people from my past are crawling out of the woodwork

and hot men are coming along like buses.

Grab a coffee and a cake at

'CATNAPS & FLAPJACKS'

and snuggle up with one of my fur-babies

as my story unfolds.

* * * * *

Chapter One

‘So, after ogling his cute little buns for approximately two hours, five minutes and nineteen seconds - not that I was counting or anything - he finally came over and spoke to me.’

Ross was putting the finishing touches to our last batch of cupcakes and filling me in on his night at a newly opened gay bar he’d been so excited about visiting.

‘And …?’ I asked as I wiped down the surfaces and checked that we were on schedule for opening time.

‘Oh Ellie.  I could have cried!  In fact, little tears of pain did spring to my eyes!  You could have stripped paint with his breath.’  He paused and wiped his hands on his frilly pinny, emblazoned with the sequinned words ‘Diva on Duty!’  As he shook his head with a huff, he continued, ‘You know what it reminded me of?  Remember that time Rupert had his gammy tooth and it cost you a fortune at the vet?  It was exactly the same rancid stench.’

Oh yes, I remembered it well and the smell, combined with the memory of the bill, almost brought tears to my eyes too.

‘Not your dream man, after all then?’ I stated obviously as I removed my dirty apron and replaced it with a clean one.  ‘Still … plenty more fish in the sea, eh?’

‘In the sea?  Pfft!  I reckon he had a whole shoal of dead ones hiding under his tongue!  Uggh.  I could vom just thinking about it.’

Poor Ross had been looking for ‘lurve’ for as long as I’d known him.  Not the type for endless one night stands, his dream was to settle down with Mr Reliable.  He hankered for cosy nights in front of the TV, weekends in the country and the ideal of living with and being cherished by his soul mate.

‘I give up Ellie!  I’m going to die a lonely old man surrounded by cats and stinking of pee and flea spray.’

‘Ross!  Will you stop it?  You’re thirty years of age - you’re not going to die lonely.  And anyway, I wouldn’t let you.’

Smiling bravely, Ross sighed and said, ‘Well as lovely as that is, Elles, I think we need to remind ourselves that you don’t have the necessary qualifying equipment so you kind of fall at the first hurdle.  And anyway, you’ll no doubt be married to the sensible Stefan by then - I don’t think he’d take too kindly to me muscling in on the act, do you?’

Opening my mouth to reply, I quickly closed it again as I realised it wasn’t the time to tell Ross about Stefan’s proposal the previous night or my lacklustre reaction and the confused feelings which seemed to have set up camp in my head, leaving me tossing and turning into the early hours.

No.  I needed to come to terms with the whole idea before I discussed it with anyone - in particular my prickly and stubborn daughter, Poppy.

That was not a conversation I was looking forward to.

*****

‘Well as long as you don’t expect me to call him Dad, it’s up to you what you do.’

Poppy was in her usual ‘shut-down mode’ as she handed cubes of cheese and cucumber to her good-natured three year old, who was happily flicking through a sticker book whilst chewing and humming.

‘Ria!  Will you please just eat and stop messing about,’ my daughter reprimanded unnecessarily - and I found myself, not for the first time, wishing that she’d just lighten up a little.

Stroking my granddaughter’s head and winking at her, I soothed, ‘You’re a good girl, aren’t you Sweetheart?  Eat up for MumsMum,’ I encouraged, using her pet name for me.

I was rewarded with the smile that never failed to melt my heart - a smile I couldn’t imagine life without.

And yet becoming a granny at the tender age of thirty-four had come as quite a shock - but what right did I have to judge?  Poppy had simply followed in my foolish footsteps and fallen pregnant before she’d even hung up her school uniform.  Yes, we’d both ‘got caught’ - as my headmistress had so delightfully put it - at the age of sixteen as a result of our first foray into the complicated world of sex.

That was where the similarities ended though.  My ‘happy accident’ had actually been premeditated.  I'd been in love, believed I was being loved in return and I'd planned to create a little being who would feel cherished and wanted - one who would become the centre of my universe.

Yes, I knew how Poppy had come to be and I also knew how close we’d been, how happy and carefree she’d been until the day she fell pregnant.

That was the day I lost her, when she pushed me away and refused to let me - or anyone else - in.  Almost four years later, I was none the wiser about the father or the circumstances behind how it happened.  It was a story she still wasn’t prepared to tell.

*****

I’d lost count of the foster carers I’d stayed with by the time I was thirteen.  They’d begun to morph into faceless, nameless blobs who offered me a bed, put a roof over my head and food in my stomach.  They did their jobs well and I couldn’t fault them but, although they cared, they didn’t love.

To be fair, most of them weren’t given the chance to even start to love me, as the authorities seemed to think that it was perfectly acceptable to move me from pillar to post at the drop of a hat.  By the time I’d reached ten, I was an old hand - after all, I’d been offloaded since I was a few months old - and so I developed the knack of living out of a suitcase - what was the point of unpacking only to move on again?

There were always reasons for my upheaval - some that I could understand and others that made no sense to a young, vulnerable girl in desperate need of stability and a family to call her own - but I learnt to spot the signs.  My social worker Pat would arrive with her briefcase and folders, there would be muffled chat in another room and then she'd join me for ‘The Pat Chat’.

Over the years I’d heard it all - foster mum was going into hospital, foster dad had changed his mind, foster mum was pregnant, foster parents had decided to adopt a baby and wanted to devote all of their time to their new child.  It seemed that nobody wanted me ‘for keeps’ and that hurt.

But at thirteen, everything changed - at least that’s what I’d thought at the time.

Arriving at 21 Flaxton Avenue on that bitterly cold December afternoon had felt different - I had no idea how but it just had.  Despite the sprinkling of snow on the pavements and the black ice on the roads, I’d felt warm and cosy for the first time in my life and I liked it.

Eric and Eileen had welcomed me with open arms and I’d stood in awe, gaping at their gaudily dressed Christmas tree, which was surrounded by enticing looking parcels and boxes.

‘Father Christmas came early this year, my love,’ Eileen told me with an easy grin.  ‘Lots of goodies under there for you - and not too long to wait now!’

She’d then taken my hand in hers, ordered Eric to get the hot chocolate ready and told me she’d show me to my room and help me to unpack.

For once, I didn’t question the logic in taking all of my things from their cases and placing them in beautifully scented, lined drawers as I looked at the comfy duvet on my pretty bed.

I was staying.  I was home.

*****

In their mid-sixties, my new foster parents had devoted their lives to caring for children.  Their flock-papered walls proudly displayed photographs of all the lives that had come into theirs - some for short stays, the majority until they were old enough to leave and care for themselves.  Most of them were still in contact with Eric and Eileen - one big happy family.

To name just a few, there was Adrian who lived just around the corner with his wife and son, Maggie who had moved to Ireland but often came back for visits and Lillian who popped in every day on her way home from work.

Sometimes I could be found engrossed by their little ‘Rogues Gallery’ as Eileen affectionately referred to it, and Eric would come in and tell me stories about them that made me laugh.  I loved to hear about each child and the funny or naughty things they’d got up to and Eric was a great raconteur - although Eileen would often chuckle and give him a telling off with, ‘Oh Eric!  That’s not how it happened at all.  You do exaggerate so.’

In short, I’d never been happier and the icing on the cake was when I started at Newton High School and met Lauren.

It had been a happy coincidence that we both started attending the school in the January term - two lost souls, nervous and terrified, we’d taken comfort in one another and instantly hit it off.

By the end of that first term we were inseparable.  Weekends, holidays and after school would see us at one another’s houses - chatting, studying, practicing our make up skills, confiding our secret crushes or listening to music.

But the thing that really sealed the deal on our friendship was our mutual passion for cats.  As much as I grew to love Eric and Eileen and felt comfortable taking Lauren home, the time I spent at her house was treasured because there were always cuddles of the furry variety.

Major Tom - the fat tabby - and Madonna - the slinky tortoiseshell - gave their love unconditionally and I soon became besotted.  When we found out that Madonna was expecting kittens I could think of nothing else.  I had to have one.

Of course, after two years of living with Eric and Eileen I knew that they were pushovers.  If something made me happy and it was within their power to make it happen, then they would allow it.

When I got the call from Lauren at just gone three o’clock one morning, Eric dragged himself from his bed and drove me bleary-eyed, in his tartan pyjamas, to see the tiny mewing scraps just after Madonna had delivered them.

I knew the minute I set eyes on Pebble that he was the cat for me and Eric nodded in agreement, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve like the big softie I’d grown to love.

‘He’s a fine cat,’ he declared with a nod.  ‘Yes.  He’ll have a happy home with us.’

I couldn’t possibly have known that within a year, Pebble would be back living with Lauren and that I would, once again, be without love.

*****

Eric and Eileen were killed instantly in the motorway accident that was to change my life forever.  Two days after my sixteenth birthday, when I was riding on the crest of a wave and had well and truly shaken off my insecurities, they’d set off to visit Eileen’s elderly aunt and never returned.

The authorities swung into action again and, being considered a ‘difficult age’, I was allowed to stay with Lauren and her parents for a while before I was moved on to interim care.

And so I went back to living out of a suitcase - no one really wanted a sixteen year old and I just had to accept that while dealing with the grieving process at the same time.  Having Eric, Eileen and Pebble in my life I’d learnt how to love and be loved, and suddenly nothing made sense any more.

Maybe I didn’t deserve that privilege.  After all, my birth parents had abandoned me hadn’t they?  I began to believe that it was all my fault that I'd be alone and unloved forever.

Then I met Robert.

* * * * *

Stuff happens.

Ain't that the truth?

 

My next full length novel was due for release in June but sadly, due to family commitments, the joint edit is now unlikely to happen within that timeframe.  Anything is possible of course but I just wanted to let those who were eagerly awaiting its release (yes, there are a few!) that there’s a possibility it could be slightly later than expected.

In the meantime, I’ll leave you with the title - I hope it tempts you and makes you want to know more.

THE ALL OR NOTHING GIRL   ©

Coming soon-ish.

In the meantime, you can check out all of my other books in the UK or .com

FUNKY FRIDAY - With writer Geoffrey West

Hands together please for Indie author Geoffrey West as we chat about what makes him tick as a writer.

So Geoffrey, what are the best and worst things about writing for you? 

Best – getting a story finished, feeling that it’s come together properly.  It’s rather like building a house: you can’t envisage the end of the job until it’s actually done, you can only do it in sections. I also enjoy doing anything I can to help other writers sell their books, via RTing or doing reviews of books I like.

Worst – trying to sell books, or any kind of marketing (unless it’s for other people). 

You’ve been invited on Big Brother – Writers Special!  Do you accept? 

Depends on the other guests.  I imagine successful writers can be like successful actors, behaving like ‘luvvies’ and showing off and being precious.  But it would be great to chat to Julian Barnes or Rose Tremain or Sarah Waters, or Dick Francis’s son Felix, so yes, maybe it would be fun. 

You’re going on a chat show to discuss your books.  Whose is it and why? 

Afraid I don’t watch many chat shows, so can’t think of anyone. 

If you were offered a squillion pounds to never write again would you take it? 

Well, er, er. . . Gulp. Maybe I should give the legal answer: I refuse to answer on the grounds it would incriminate me. 

It’s your dream week as a writer, anything’s possible.  Tell us about it. 

Travelling around Europe and maybe even Asia.  Doing all kinds of research into the history, and intricacies of cities all over the world, to use in future novels. 

QUICK FIRE ROUND 

Planner or Winger? 

Neither.  I don’t wing, but my planning’s pretty hopeless on the whole. 

Night or morning? 

Night night night every time.  In the mornings I am dead. 

Doer or procrastinator? 

Doer.  But a doer that does it slowly. 

Writing, first draft or editing? 

Like it best when I’ve got an idea going, and doing a second or third draft, altering, chucking out ideas and making changes.  My best ideas have come as a result of scrapping an original idea and going on with the second.  But I’d never have got the second idea without doing the first.  Does that make any sense? 

Tea or coffee? 

Coffee every time.  And I’ve grown to hate instant.

* * * *

Geoffrey blogs both as himself and the hero featured in his books, Jack Lockwood.

You can also visit his Website or follow him on Twitter.

Here are the links to his books: Doppelganger and Rock'n'Roll Suicide.

 

 * * * NEWSFLASH * * *

The solo edit has been completed by hubbie and we are about to set sail on the joint edit.  Eeek! Hissy-fits at the ready.

Fellow Indie, Kathryn Brown is currently selling Kindle copies of her novels for a mere £1.02.  I can highly recommend 'Nightingale Woods' - a right good giggle!

FUNKY FRIDAY with Jennifer Bohnet

WOO HOO!  It's my first FUNKY FRIDAY where I get to chat to writers, readers and reviewers.

This week I'm delighted to welcome romantic novelist 

JENNIFER BOHNET

Jennifer lives and writes in Brittany so it seemed only right that we settled with a small glass of wine as we had a 'writerly' gossip - listen in to our chat ...

Jennifer, as a writer of affairs of the heart, what do you do to motivate yourself on a day you're just not feeling it? 

I look through a couple of books I have on writing, maybe do one or two of the mind releasing exercises they suggest, or I flip through a book with lots of pictures, pick one and try to come up with a story about it. I usually end up writing something even if it’s not the next thousand words of the latest novel.

Tell us about your ideal writing day. 

I’ve realised recently that if I don’t start writing first thing after breakfast I get very little done all day. So ideally I’d be in my study by 9.30 and write for the next couple of hours, stop for lunch (cooked by husband) and then walk the dog for an hour before coming back to edit the morning’s work. Answering e-mails and doing social networking I try to do in the evenings.

I have to say that I was a bit jealous about lunch being cooked by your husband and a LOT jealous about the fact that you have a dog to walk!  My cats won't allow me to have one!  So what's the worst thing about writing for you? 

The waiting time between sending stuff out - particularly short stories - and hearing back from editors/publishers.

It's dream time!  Your ultimate dinner party? You can have anyone dead or alive there - who would you have and why? 

Great question as I love entertaining!  Hugh Jackman because - oh just because! Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald so that I could really quiz them about Juan-les-Pins and the Jazz Age down there for a novel idea I have. Elisabeth David - she could help me in the kitchen beforehand and give me all sorts of useful tips. The iceman of Formula 1, Kimi Raikkonen, though I don’t suppose he’d be much of a conversationalist. Erica James because she’s one of my favourite writers and maybe she’d share the secret of how she’s so productive. Dame Maggie Smith because she’s such a brilliant actress and I’m sure she’d have lots of theatrical stories to tell us. Bill Nye because he makes me laugh. Jilly Cooper because I’ve long been an admirer of her writing. And finally I’d have to invite a young, healthy, Muhammad Ali for my husband; they share the same birthday and although not a big fan of boxing he’s always admired him. Should be a great dinner party!

Hmmm!  That's a dinner party I'll attend with bells on!

How do you deal with the dreaded bad review - are you a sulker or a shrugger? 

More of a sulker I’m afraid - it knocks my confidence and I have a hard time getting going again, so I’ve resolved to try and be more of a shrugger and never to look at my reviews again. (Another resolution broken then!)

I'm totally with you on that one but I guess we have to realise that we can't please everyone!  So IF you were offered a squillion pounds to never write again, would you take it?  

If the offer was made when the rejections were pouring in, I’d be sorely tempted and have to say yes! But then I think, No, having all those people in my head trying to tell their stories and not being able to write it down would drive me insane!

Again, I agree!  Once they get in your head they just have to come out, don't they?

QUICK FIRE ROUND

Planner or Winger? 

A winger trying to be a bit more of a planner.

Night or Morning? 

Morning.

Do-er or procrastinator? 

I can procrastinate for England - and France now.

Writing/first draft or editing?

First draft.

Tea or coffee? 

Coffee, coffee coffee.

I'd like to thank Jennifer for being a very brave first FUNKY FRIDAY participant and urge you all to check out her latest book, 'Shadows of Conflict', which is already out in hardback and will also be available as an e-book on 30th September:

Here are the links to her website and Amazon page.

 

You can also follow Jennifer on Twitter @jenniewriter

***** NEWSFLASH *****

FUNKY FRIDAY is now booked out until mid February - thank you all so much for your support.

NICKY WELLS has released 'Sophie's Encore' and has some FAB 5* reviews

KATHRYN BROWN has also released 'Bedknobs and Bachelors' and it's waiting on my Kindle to be read.

MICHELLE BETHAM's romcom, 'Too Much Trouble in Paradise' is FREE on Kindle at Amazon this weekend.  Grab a copy while you can - it's very funny.

JAMIE T DOUGAN's short story, 'The Rubicon Trail' is now available on Kobo as well as on Amazon  He'll be chatting here some time in the New Year.

Next week we welcome to FUNKY FRIDAY an avid reader, reviewer and HUGE supporter of writers, my friend Carol Wright from Dizzy C's Little Book Blog

So that just about rounds up the first FUNKY FRIDAY!   Thanks to Jennifer for dropping by and to all those who have agreed to take part.  Remember, spread the love by Tweeting about this with #funkyfriday

Announcing FUNKY FRIDAY!

Yesterday I threw a little idea out into the Twitterverse - a new spot on the blog called ‘FUNKY FRIDAY’ where I interview writers, reviewers and readers.  This will be aside from my usual weekly blog posts.

It was just the seed of an idea.  I’ve featured on so many other blogs, and had the occasional visit from fellow Indies here on mine, so I thought I’d see if anyone wanted to take me up on the offer to make it a regular feature.

My day disappeared!  So many lovely people jumped at the idea and were willing to see what I had to ask them.  Tweet after tweet, DM after DM and email after email!  I now have nearly forty people lined up for a slot!

So … each Friday, for as long as the interest is maintained, I’ll be interviewing either a writer or a reader/reviewer.  I’ll include all links to their books, blogs, Facebook, Twitter etc. and aim to ask questions that are slightly different to the norm.

I’ll also include a NEWSFLASH section at the end so that anyone involved in the project can include their book-related news.

A HUGE thank you to everyone who has given this support - let’s make this fun and something that works for all of us.

FUNKY FRIDAY’S September line up will be:

Friday 6^th September - Jennifer Bohnet - writer

Friday 13^th September - Carol Wright from Dizzy C’s Little Book Blog - reviewer

Friday 20^th September - Michelle Betham - writer

Friday 27^th September - Fabulous Book Fiend - reviewer

Please feel free to contact me if you’d also like to take part.  Slots are now filled until mid January (!) and I’m doing it on a strictly first come, first served basis.

****** NEWSFLASH ******

I’ve finished the first draft of my new novel due for release in December and am currently editing my Christmas novella ready for October.

MICHELLE BETHAM is due to release ‘Extra Time’ - the sequel to ‘Striker’ some time this month.  Watch this space!

CAROL HEDGES has signed with Crooked Cat and will release her TWELFTH novel at the end of this year.  She’ll be featuring here when she can find time to breathe!

NICKY WELLS will be releasing ‘Sophie’s Encore’ on 5th September and will also be chatting  here soon.

KATHRYN BROWN launches her new chicklit novel TODAY!  ‘Bedknobs and Bachelors’ - I can’t wait to read it and also to feature Kathryn on FUNKY FRIDAY!

Launching 'LOTTIE'S LUCK'!

Little bit excited here at Misfit house as today is the release of my fifth full-length chicklit novel.

Want to see my lovely cover?

And for those who missed it, here's the blurb:

I’m Lottie Truman

and this is my story.

My life was simply tickety-boo

until a neighbour’s prediction

seemed to coincide with

my luck running out.

Join me on the path

I needed to take to get me

to where I am now.

But don’t judge me.

Because sometimes you have to

make a few diversions to allow fate

to push you in the right direction

I ran a competition for a couple of weeks in the lead-up to the release and all those who retweeted me on Twitter went into a draw to win a free Kindle copy.  About 140 people were 'in it to win it' and I thank each and every one of them for helping to spread the word. I decided one giveaway seemed a bit mean given the response so I decided to go for three and, after giving each their own number in a hat, I asked my trusty teen to pick them at random.

Congratulations go to:

@justkaren_

@janeigraves

@tyrrellnook

If you DM me your email address on Twitter I will get a Kindle compatible copy to you as soon as possible.

For those who are still interested in reading about Lottie's adventures you can buy your Kindle copy in the UK here, USA here (for less than the price of a coffee!) and paperback copies at Lulu (slightly more than a coffee but you can hug it and sniff the pages - always a bonus, I think.)

Today will see me mostly celebrating (and checking sales!) and also getting ready for my first group-girlie night out in years!  I also have my book launch dinner to look forward to on Saturday, courtesy of my lovely partner-in-crime 'Fenella'. Blog to follow soon after.

Once again, thanks to all my loyal and supportive readers - I hope you like this one.   If you should buy a copy today, why not tweet about it, using the hashtag #lottiesluck.  And if you enjoy, please leave a review - your words help sell mine.

You can find all of my other novels here UK and here US.