Valentine Giveaway!

Since this is February I thought I'd celebrate the time of year with a Valentine's Day gift for one of Tote Bags' visitors.

Two signed books - I've pictured a couple of recent ones but the winner can choose from my backlist - and some truly scrumptious raspberry infused Belgian chocolate from Choc On Choc, a company that produces amazing chocolate a couple of miles up the road from me in the historic village of Rode.

Do click on the link and take a look at some of the amazing stuff they make!

For a chance to win, all you have to do is leave a comment. Maybe tell us about your most special |(or awful) Valentine's Day. Or favourite chocolate. Or romantic movie. It's international so spread the word! I'll pick a winner on Tuesday (9th)

Meanwhile here's the famous -- make that infamous -- first date with my own best beloved, written for a Valentine's Day feature in a newspaper here in the UK.  (We’ve been married for 43) years.

Liz was late. She very nearly hadn’t come at all. Despite the fact that the annual Cinema Club Ball was the social highlight of the year, a blind-date was always a risk. But the manner of the invitation had been intriguing.  The torn half of a double ticket to the Ball delivered anonymously by messenger suggested a man with imagination, passion.

A man of mystery.

And she was a sucker for a mystery.

She glanced again at the torn card she was holding, the part that said, “The St Valentine’s...”

Someone had written “9 pm” in bold script across the corner. You could tell a lot about a man from his handwriting. This said ... strong, purposeful, determined.

But who was he?

She’d spent all week trying to figure out who could possibly have sent it. Who had the other half? The piece that said, “...Day Massacre Ball”?

She paused in the entrance to the Ballroom. The only lighting came from the strobe effect of the film projected against the walls that offered momentary glimpses of  faces, features flattened out  by the flickering monotone images making them hard to recognise. And the clothes didn’t help.

Everyone had taken the 1920s Chicago theme to heart. The girls were shimmying to the Charleston in their beaded flapper dresses, the men were anonymous, almost unrecognisable in gangster-era suits, their faces shaded by wide-brimmed hats.

Touching the band around her own forehead a little self-consciously, she peered into the darkness.

She still had time to cut and run, but even as she took an uncertain step back, a man’s arm reached out of the darkness, placing the matching piece of the ticket against the one she was holding. The hand that had written “9 pm”, matched the script. Strong...

‘I knew you’d come, doll,’ a voice, pure Humphrey Bogart, drawled out of the gloom, breaking into the thought and she looked up.

For a moment she didn’t recognise the figure in the pinstriped suit, fedora pulled down at a rakish angle. Then the light caught his face. It was vaguely familiar. She’d noticed him at a recent club meeting. John something....

Despite the pitch-perfect Bogie impression and darkly, handsome looks, her date didn’t quite match the actor’s dangerous aura. But then who could? And heck, it could have been a whole lot worse.

He could have been Edward G Robinson.

Don't forget to leave a comment - 

I'll pick a winner on Tuesday.

There's something about September...

I don't know what it is about September - it's not as if I've children at home and I've got that whole back to school rush going on. You know how it goes, new shoes, new uniform, new everything...

I've just watched my daughter handle that with her oldest (5), while settling the middle one (3) into pre-school and coping with the littlest who's just discovered that he get where ever he wants to be the minute her back is turned.

September should be a time when I can ease off a little in the garden as the grass slows down, enjoy those last warm days that always seem to arrive the minute the children are back in school. It is absolutely lovely here in Wiltshire at the moment.

But...

Two more appointments have just gone into my September diary. The eye clinic (an appointment 40 odd miles away at 9 am is really not fun). There are two meetings at the U3A (University of Third Age) this month and I'm on flower duty at the WI. I've just booked in to have a manicure and pedicure before heading off to London for the annual Mills and Boon Author Lunch. And of course there's the hairdresser for a trim, ditto. I'm starting an Italian class and I'm hoping to get a place in the pilates class, too and there's an evening of fun in Southwick Village Hall with another group.

Most of it - apart from the eye clinic - is fun. But there's this other thing going on. The book deadline is looming. I told my editor that I was going to have it on her desk by the end of September

I'm stocking up on the chocolate...

Liz Fielding's latest book - the last of her Ice Cream Trilogy charting the lives and loves of Elle, Sorrel and Gel Amery - Vettori's Damsel in Distress is a Romantic Times TOP PICK.

"...as sparkling as the finest of champagnes and 
delicious as ice cream on a sunny day..."

I'm off to the beach...

...and this is what I've packed in my Kindle.

Shirley Jump's first Fortune's Island romance AND THEN FOREVER 

I've already started reading this book and it's just wonderful. I love Shirley's voice and Fortune's Island is going to be a favourite. Here's the blurb -

Love is an extravagance Darcy Williams can’t afford. She prefers the simple life, which includes waitressing at The Love Shack and avoiding temptation. But when a forbidden part of her past steps off the ferry, her safe, guarded existence is turned upside down.

Kincaid Foster has never gotten over his first love. When he sees the wild, beautiful blonde again, dancing her way around The Love Shack, the memories of Darcy’s soft skin, gentle touch, and heated kisses come rushing back. As the privileged son of a wealthy family, Kincaid was too young to stand up to his overbearing father when he and Darcy were together. Now, he’s back on the island—free of the family shackles—and the chiseled, big-time lawyer wants a second chance.

But, Darcy made a promise to keep a secret from Kincaid—a secret that is now a six-year-old girl who looks just like her daddy. If Kincaid finds out about their daughter, Darcy could lose everything. But, she can’t resist the man who stole her heart all those years ago. And it doesn’t take long before both of them realize that anything can happen on a hot summer night.

I have all the "Peter Grant" books on my Kindle and I'm waiting for the kindle version of the latest, "The Hanging Tree", but I'll dip into these again in the meantime. Here's a taste -

My name is Peter Grant and until January I was just probationary constable in that mighty army for justice known to all right-thinking people as the Metropolitan Police Service (and as the Filth to everybody else). My only concerns in life were how to avoid a transfer to the Case Progression Unit - we do paperwork so real coppers don't have to - and finding a way to climb into the panties of the outrageously perky WPC Leslie May. Then one night, in pursuance of a murder inquiry, I tried to take a witness statement from someone who was dead but disturbingly voluable, and that brought me to the attention of Inspector Nightingale, the last wizard in England.

Murder, mayhem and a lot of fun.

Milly Johnson is a brilliant, witty writer and a huge bestseller in the UK. I'm not sure if US readers have found her yet, but they're in for a treat when they do. I love her books and this one seems to be perfect for a quiet, shady spot on the sand.

When dynamic, power-dressing Christie blows in like a warm wind to take over their department, five very different women find themselves thrown together at work. But none of them could have predicted the fierce bond of friendship that her leadership would inspire. . .


Oh, and if you're looking for something extra to pack for the beach, my latest,
Vettori's Damsel in Distress, published in July in the UK, US and Australia is a Romantic Times TOP PICK, For a taste test click here or on one of the links to download the book right now!

Amazon
iBooks
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
Harlequin
Mills and Boon 
Mills and Boon, Australia

Hot Italian vs Cool Cowboy!

Just a bit of fun today from the Harlequin blog - a face off between totally opposite heroes!

I'm not trying to influence you or anything but I just want you to know that Dante Vettori will take you in during a snowstorm, cook your favourite meal and take you to the hottest ticket party during Milan fashion week. Got that? Then go and vote here!

Rosie's Little Tote Bag

Well, golly, this seems appropriate!

To launch Vettori's Damsel in Distress, the third of my books about the Amery sisters and their adventures with ice cream (available for pre-order now!), I've created two special treats for my fans.

The first treat - for one lucky subscriber to my newsletter - is this fabulous "Rosie" tote bag. It's a one off and it's really good quality, printed on both sides with straps long enough to carry it on your shoulder.

Perfect for trips to the library, roomy enough for a visit to the beach. Or just a little shopping.

I'll be drawing the winners name from the dh's panama hat on publication day - 7th July so make sure you're signed up now - there's a form on the sidebar here.

And if you're not sure who Rosie is, everyone can download my second little treat for free.

Rosie's Little Book of Ice Cream contains all the wit and wisdom collected by Rosie (the vintage ice cream that started it all), a little history, some recipes from the books and the first chapters of Tempted By Trouble, Anything But Vanilla and Vettori's Damsel in Distress.

This is the Smashwords link which will work for everyone but it's also available at Amazon, iBooks, Nook and Kobo.

Cover Reveal!

I've been eagerly awaiting the cover for my latest Harlequin Romance, Vettori's Damsel in Distress. It popped into my inbox this week and I'm sharing it here first.

This is Geli's story. She's the third and youngest of the Amery sisters (Elle - Tempted By Trouble; Sorrel - Anything But Vanilla) whose life has revolved around ice cream ever since the arrival of "Rosie", a pink ice cream van.

Geli - who went to art college - has gone to Italy to remind herself that life isn't all about ice cream. (Not that she escapes entirely!)

Things do not start well. It snowed - who knew? There's a stray kitten - nothing changes. And as for her lovely apartment...

Here's the moment when Geli first sees Dante Vettori...

A few people had turned when the door opened and the chatter died away until the only sound was the low thrum of a double bass.

The man standing at the bar, curious about what had caught everyone’s attention, half turned and anticipation whooshed off the scale in an atavistic charge of raw desire; instant, bone deep need for a man before you heard his voice, felt his touch, knew his name.

For a moment, while she remembered how to breathe, it felt as if someone had pressed the pause button on the scene, freezing the moment in soft focus. Muted colours reflected in polished steel, lights shimmering off the bottles and glasses behind the bar, her face reflected, ghost-like behind the advertisement on a mirror. And Mr Italy with his kiss-me mouth and come-to-bed eyes.

Forget the thick, dark hair and cheekbones sharp enough to write their own modelling contract, it was those chocolate dark eyes that held her transfixed. If they had been looking out of a tourist poster there would be a stampede to book holidays in Italy.

He straightened, drawing attention to the way his hair curled onto his neck, a pair of scandalously broad shoulders, strong wrists emerging from folded back cuffs.

‘Signora…’ he murmured, as he moved back a little to make room for her at the counter and oh, joy, his voice matched the face, the body.

She might have passed out for lack of oxygen at that moment but a tall, athletic-looking blonde placed a tiny cup of espresso in front of him before — apparently unaware that she was serving a god — turning to her.

‘Sta nevidanco? É brutto tempo.’  

What?

Oh…

Flustered at being confronted with phrases that hadn’t featured so far on the Italian course she’d downloaded onto her iPod, she took the safe option and, having sucked in a snowflake that was clinging to her lip, she lowered her hood. The chatter gradually resumed and, finally getting a “move it” message through to her legs, she parked her suitcase and crossed to the bar.

Preorder links are up at

Nook Amazon iBooks