Friday, December 5, 2014


After a crazy whirlwind couple of months, I am very excited that Not a Fairy Tale is done and in my editor's Inbox. This is the story of stuntman Dominic Kelly and actress Nina Alexander, two of the secondary characters from To Catch a Star, back by popular demand.

If you'd like to be the first to read a sneak peek of this book, or to see the cover before it's revealed to the world, please sign up for my newsletter here:

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Christmas in Westerwald

Today I'm part of author Mia Hoddell's 12 Days of Christmas blog tour, talking about Christmas in Westerwald and what the characters of my books will be up to this holiday season.
Please stop by and leave a comment, or just say "hi".

Image courtesy of

Saturday, October 4, 2014

Vote for your favourite bachelor

Please come join in the Bachelor Auction on the Harper Impulse blog to let us know which of the secondary characters from my previous books you'd most like to see get his own book:

Sunday, September 28, 2014

First reviews

The honour of posting the very first review for To Catch a Star goes to Sienna at Lost to Books. Thanks so much Sienna! Click the link for the full review, but I'll share my favourite line:
"I think this was my favourite from the whole series."
South African reviewer Desere Steenberg has also reviewed To Catch a Star. I'm very excited that I'll be meeting Desere in person next month so I can thank her (again!) for this lovely review.
Favourite line? Hard to choose, but I'm going with this one:
"The backdrop settings were as magical as they were simply screaming romance and without a doubt more than once I felt as if I was right there seeing it all."
To Catch a Star is available now from AmazonBarnes & NobleKoboiTunes and All Romance eBooks.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Tribute to the Classics

My brand new release, To Catch a Star, releases today. This is the book which concludes my Westerwald trilogy, three stand alone novels with a common plot line connecting them.

This book means a great deal to me. It’s the longest I’ve written to date and a little more serious than the previous two Westerwald novels (though there are still the light-hearted moments you’ve come to expect from a Romy novel).

This book also allowed me to pay tribute to some of my favourite classic movies.

The opening scene (read an extract below) is based on a moment in Singin’ in the Rain in which silent movie star Gene Kelly escapes his rabid fans while his good friend (played by Donald O’Connor) looks on, laughing. He eventually jumps into the passing open-topped car of Debbie Reynolds who mistakes him for a gangster.

In To Catch a Star, the best friend is absent – though he makes a few appearances elsewhere in the book – but in many other ways the scene remains the same, with a contemporary twist.

Like Gene Kelly’s character in Singin’ in the Rain, my hero in To Catch a Star is a movie star who started his career as a stuntman. And like Kelly’s Don Lockwood, he’s a ladies’ man with an over-inflated ego who isn’t used to meeting a woman who doesn’t drop at his feet, a woman who questions his career and his life.

Another of the book’s more comic moments, which I call The Balcony Scene, was inspired by a scene from the original Pink Panther, featuring David Niven and a very young Robert Wagner. No spoiler clip this time - you’ll have to read the book to see what I mean.

And then there’s my heroine, who is modeled on Grace Kelly’s character in To Catch a Thief – want to guess how my book got its name?

I still love to watch those old movie classics. Aside from the fact that they’re a great source of story ideas, they’ve brought me many entertaining hours, cheered me up when I needed a mood lift, helped me escape from real life in the same way great books do. To Catch a Star is my little tribute to all those amazing film.

Do you have a favourite movie classic that means a lot to you?

If you haven't already pre-ordered To Catch a Star, it is available now from AmazonBarnes & NobleKoboiTunes and All Romance eBooks.

A bittersweet dedication

To Catch a Star is dedicated to four friends I've known for nearly twenty years. We met in 1995 working together on a BBC TV series about Cecil John Rhodes, and the friendships formed then have lasted through numerous film productions and across thousands of miles.

To Terry and Sue Bamber, and to the entire Bergman Clan, thank you for your friendship. Especially to the Bergmans, who were a second family to me at a time in my life when I was very far from home.

So it is especially bittersweet for me that To Catch a Star releases today, as tomorrow is the cremation service for John Bergman. My heart is in Tiptree with you all today.

Monday, September 15, 2014

10 Days to Launch!

Only ten more days and the conclusion to my Westerwald trilogy will release. Take a trip to the fairy tale kingdom of Westerwald with my bad boy movie actor hero Christian in To Catch a Star.

If you sign up for my newsletter you'll be first in line for inside reveals and specials.

To Catch a Star is currently available to pre-order through any of these fine retailers:
Barnes & Noble
All Romance eBooks

Monday, August 25, 2014

Written Fireside Blog Hop Part 2

Yesterday I posted the first instalment of my contribution to the Written Fireside August blog hop, and here's the second instalment.

Watch out for the complete collection of short stories from Harper Impulse this Christmas, and don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter contest below for a truly amazing prize: $70 in Amazon vouchers plus at least a dozen books.

Part Two:

Charlotte stared sightlessly out the window until rain began to spatter against the grimy glass. Just her luck. The one day she hadn’t brought an umbrella.
She climbed off the bus at her usual stop, raising her collar against the sleety rain and tucking her gloved hands deep into her pockets. Jingle Bells spilled out from a store, and the Christmas lights strung overhead reflected in the puddles. The pedestrians hurrying along the busy pavements all seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, an inexorable tide she had to fight against. Something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately.
No-one understood what she’d done.
Her parents thought this was just a blip and soon she’d come to her senses and move back in with Daniel. Their well-meant interrogations were a small price to pay for free room and board.
Her old friends hadn’t been so kind. They’d sided with Daniel and been voluble in their disapproval.
“Is this some sort of early midlife crisis?” Jenny had asked. “Or maybe it’s wedding jitters. We all had those.”
But it wasn’t wedding jitters. Charlotte had stared down the tunnel of her future and wondered how she’d ever come to this point. It wasn’t that she didn’t want marriage and motherhood. She just didn’t want them packaged up in a terrace house and a pocket handkerchief garden, with a daily commute to a job she didn’t enjoy, a week’s holiday in Tenerife every year, and a man she wasn’t passionately and hopelessly in love with.
When the date of their wedding had come and gone, and she still hadn’t gone back on her knees to beg Daniel’s forgiveness, even Jenny stopped taking her calls.
So she made new friends. Friends who knew her simply as ‘Charlotte’, not one half of ‘Daniel and Charlotte’.
She reached the stage door and shoved it open, feeling the same sudden rush of excitement she felt every time she stepped over the threshold. A rush that, weeks down the line, still hadn’t abated. This was what made all the heartache worthwhile. Here, in the musty, over-crowded bowels of the theatre, all the tears and if onlys and might have beens disappeared.
Amidst the panicked preparations, the smell of grease paint, the bright lights, there was no time for anything but magic.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Brian asked, batting his fake eyelashes at the mirror to check they were firmly stuck on.
Charlotte finished painting her lips. “Turkey at home with my parents, I guess. We’ll eat too much, watch the Queen’s speech and fall asleep watching re-runs.”
“Sounds scintillating. You’re welcome to join me and Jack for dinner, if you like?”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Their flat might be in the heart of Theatreland, but it was so tiny a person could almost touch both opposite walls at the same time, and it smelled strongly of the Indian restaurant downstairs. “Three’s a crowd and all that.”
Maybe she’d make up for the bad, bad girl she’d been this year by taking mince pies to old Mrs Johnson down the end of the street. Mrs Johnson usually went away to California to visit family who lived there now, but this year she was too frail to travel.
“You know what you need?” Brian turned laughing blue eyes on her. “You need a booty call. You need to spend your Christmas Day making panty melting sex with a handsome stranger.”
If only.
Charlotte pictured midnight dark eyes and a suggestive smile.
She shook her head. “I don’t think Santa is going to be leaving a hot date in my stocking any time soon.”
Brian shrugged. “You never know.”
“Five minutes to curtain up. Places everyone.” The stage manager’s voice crackled over the speakers.
Charlotte rose and gazed at herself in the mirror. Out with Charlotte and her hopes and fears, and in with Dandini. Wigged, powdered, and dressed in tights, she could just have fun.
She pulled her tongue out at her reflection. Cross-dressing for a Southend panto might not be the height of an actress’ ambitions but at least it was professional, paying work. And considering that this time last year she’d still been sat in an office listening to middle-aged housewives drone on and on about the lack of excitement in their lives, she’d come a long way.
Charlotte straightened the lapels of her blue satin coat and hurried up the narrow stairs after Brian. “What do you think Steve will have in store for us tonight?”
Their director loved improv. To keep his cast on their toes, every night he arranged some unexpected surprise for them. Fireworks at the end of the first act, a pizza delivery in the middle of the second act, a cell phone ringing live on stage.
Brian shrugged. “It’s going to be hard to top the Can-Can dancers.”
But Charlotte was sure Steve would find a way. Tonight was their last performance, after all. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d only made it through the day because she’d spent most of it wrapped in a fantasy that involved a certain dark-eyed stranger.
Tomorrow there would be no more show and no more reason to catch the Number 25 bus.
In the shadowy light they took their places. The lights dimmed, the music began. Beyond the curtain, the crowd hushed. Charlotte’s heart was in her throat, her pulse beating a wild staccato rhythm. Then the curtain started to rise, the audience began to clap, and something settled inside her.
This was the theatre. Everything would be alright on the night.

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Sunday, August 24, 2014

Written Fireside Blog Hop

Fifteen authors, 
Fifteen stories, 
One shared starting paragraph.
Read a taste of what's coming for Christmas...

Written Fireside began as a series of round-the-campfire type tales, a serial story written by a number of different Harper Impulse authors. I had a huge amount of fun taking part in For Clara and His Way Home and I'm delighted to be taking part in the latest story.

But this time we're doing something a little different. This time fifteen authors have each written a short story starting with the same opening paragraph, which was written by Georgia Beyers, winner of Harper Impulse's Written Fireside contest. All fifteen stories have a Christmas theme and will be published by Harper Impulse as a free Christmas read.

BONUS: as part of this blog hop, you also get a chance to win, by entering using the Rafflecopter link at the bottom of this post!

So my apologies for the very unseasonal post, but here is the teaser for my contribution to the Written Fireside anthology:

Charlotte sat at the bus stop wondering whether she would make the naughty or nice list this year. Last year she had rescued a stray kitten and therefore considered herself most definitely ‘nice’. This year she had broken Daniels heart into a million tiny pieces, so ‘naughty’ seemed to be the only answer. There’d be no Santa Claus coming down her chimney anytime soon.
At least she’d left Daniel with Socks to cuddle up to at night. He would have been totally destroyed if she’d taken Socks too. Not that she’d had much choice – her father was allergic to cats.
She hadn’t really had much choice when it came to leaving Daniel either. He was the one who’d laid down the ultimatum: it’s either him or me.
He hadn’t expected her to choose her new agent over a six year relationship and a diamond ring.
But she had.
She pulled her coat closer and tucked her frozen hands beneath her arms. One day Daniel would thank her. He’d meet someone new, really fall in love, and realise what they’d shared had been nothing more than a friendship with benefits.
The benefits hadn’t even been that good. Not good enough to give up on her dreams or the hope that there was something more than a mortgage and okay sex out there for her.
Jenny put it down to her reading too many romance novels. Her former BFF said it led to unrealistic expectations and one day she’d regret leaving Daniel.
But as much as she’d hated hurting him, and as much as she missed Socks’ soft purr waking her every morning, she hadn’t regretted it yet. Not that her life had turned out like a romance novel either. She was now unemployed and living back in her girlhood bedroom in her parents’ house in Wickford, facing Christmas in a neighbourhood that seemed to consist entirely of old people these days.
The number 25 bus rolled to a stop before her, and she sat up straighter, watching with mounting anticipation as the doors wheezed open. Her heart hammered. Mrs Murtry appeared in the doorway, hauling her little basket cart packed full of Christmas shopping. The woman had more grandchildren than Queen Victoria who she increasingly resembled with each passing year.
“Good evening, my dear,” she greeted Charlotte.
Charlotte rose. “Good evening, Mrs Murtry.” And please get off the bus.
At last the old duck managed to get her cart onto the pavement, and Charlotte’s attention focused back on the bus’ entryway. The empty entryway.
Her heart sank. Where was he?
“You getting in or not?” the bus driver asked, impatient to be off.
“I’m coming.”
Charlotte stepped onto the bus, scanning the seated passengers. Weary commuters heading home from a long day at the office, shoppers weighed down by their Christmas shopping, and a group of teenagers making a racket at the back of the bus. No handsome stranger with midnight dark eyes.
She slid into a vacant seat. All week he’d got off the bus just as she got on. Five days of the brush of an arm, a melting smile, a frisson of delicious tension, and a few very naughty fantasies.
Yesterday she’d checked his left hand. No ring.
He’d caught her looking and winked.
Today was the day she’d decided to go for broke. Today she planned to say ‘hello’.
Except today he wasn’t on the bus.

There'll be another instalment tomorrow, so check back here, same time, same place.

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Monday, August 4, 2014

Written Fireside's August Blog Hop has started!

Fifteen Harper Impulse authors are writing fifteen Christmas short stories all from one starting paragraph. We're sharing our story snippets throughout August and have a giveaway - 14 books/ebooks and a $70 Amazon gift card.

Any mentions on blogs, shares on Facebook, tweets, hollers over the fence to your neighbor about it, would be greatly appreciated. Come on by, bring some friends, enter our ‪#‎giveaway‬ and read the first snippet from Lori Connelly

You can enter the Rafflecopter giveaway here:

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Competition: Join the Written Fireside

Would you like to write the opening paragraph of a published book? Or would you like to see what 14 different authors do with the same opening paragraph?

This is the challenge set by Harper Impulse as part of the Written Fireside blog challenge. Usually, the Written Fireside stories are round robin stories, written by different authors.

This time, we're doing something a little different: you get the chance to write the opening paragraph. Submit your suggested opening in the comments on this blog post on the Harper Impulse Romance website.

The editors at Harper Impulse will select the winning paragraph, and the 14 HI authors will each write short stories starting with that same paragraph. You'll get to see the stories as part of an August blog hop, then all the stories will be published as part of a special Christmas edition - and you will get the credit for writing the opening!

You have until 15th July to enter.

Sunday, June 22, 2014


My daughters and I spent a delightful week at Hazyview this last week, soaking up the midwinter sunshine, visiting the Kruger Park, and fending off monkeys (youngest daughter was not impressed that one stole her apple right out of her hand. And it was the last apple).

The girls are budding photographers, so all these pictures are courtesy of them:





In just one day we managed to see four of the Big 5 - elephant, buffalo (we think!), rhino and leopard (well, its head, and we wouldn't have even spotted that much if it hadn't been for the kindly couple in a neighbouring car who pointed it out to us!)

And then, as we raced for the gate before closing time, this was our view:

Thursday, April 24, 2014

A new addition to our family

We gained a new member of the family on Wednesday.

His name is currenly Caramel and I'm tempted to keep it, but will he forgive me when he's a grown man swaggering around the house? My eldest daughter wants the name Pumpkin, my aunt has suggested Marmalade, and my mother's contribution is Marmaduke. (A big name for a very little kitten.)

Any more suggestions?

PS: do you have any idea how hard it is to take pictures of something that moves that fast?!

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Kelly Hunter's 'What the Bride Didn't Know'

I read this book in three hours. I know this because at 01:32 I saved my manuscript (according to the computer’s records) and picked up the book. At 4:31 I put the book down and turned out the light.

For the first half I still thought I could put the book down at any point and get some sleep. Once past the half way mark I didn’t think about it at all. I just kept turning the pages.
So be warned: it’s that kind of book. If you start reading it late at night, you will not sleep.

I’ve said this in other reviews of Kelly Hunter’s books, but every one of her books is better than the last. I loved Flirting with Intent so much that I was sure What the Bride didn’t Know couldn’t better it.
In fact, having met Lena and Trig in previous books, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to enjoy their book. Lena seemed too difficult and Trig too devoted.

Boy was I wrong. This book was better. In fact, it may just have become my favourite Kelly Hunter (at least until the next book comes out).

This book didn’t lag for one second. The story kept moving, I liked the characters. I laughed at the dialogue and the one-liners. And it has an exotic setting added to the mix, which Ms Hunter is so adept at.

As a writer, I know how difficult it is too make a book like this so easy and fun to read. While I admire her books, and wish I could write like that, I don’t come away feeling “oh my god, how could I ever be that good; I might as well give up now!” Instead, I come away feeling uplifted and inspired. If I can be half as good, I’ll be happy.

And if I ever get to meet Ms Hunter in person, I’ll kiss her hem and thank her for writing so many of my favourite books.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Smiles and Tears

This weekend I became an aunt for the first time. I have a nephew!

The as-yet-unnamed little tyke has that gorgeous new baby, warm and cuddly thing going for him, that you just want to hold and hold... until he cries and you hand him back to whichever parent is closest at hand.

My brother and sister-in-law are still searching out names, but they're keen to give him a family name from my father's (ie. the German) side of the family as a middle name. So as the family's resident genealogist, I pulled out the family papers and put together a list of family names for them.

Whenever I go through this particular file, I always get a lump in my throat. Copies of birth and baptismal certificates, my grandparents' death certificates, and then the really interesting papers: an admittance letter to a refugee camp for my grandmother and her three children (no husband in sight as he was in a Russian prisoner of war camp at the time. Whether my grandmother knew this or whether she thought he was missing or dead, we will never now know) and the release papers from the refugee camp, many months later. Then in 1952 the papers confirming their passage by ship from Italy to South Africa, to start a whole new life in a country not destroyed by war.

Then last night, as I packed away the file, I stumbled across a packet of letters I'd never seen before, dated 1950-1952. They were letters from my father, aged 6-8 years old, to his family.

I always knew that my father lived with his grandparents in Berlin for a while, apart from the rest of his family. He was something of a musical prodigy and in order for him to study the piano properly he needed to be in Berlin.

But knowing and understanding are two different things. It was only as I read these letters, no more than a dozen in a child's large handwriting about seemingly inconsequential things like Easter eggs and birthday gifts and a story the teacher told him in class, that I truly understood. For at least two years, in Grades 1 and 2, my father lived so far away from his parents and his siblings that the only contact he had with them was through the lost art of letter writing. No telephones, no cars to nip down the highway for weekend visits, no skype. These were the letters of a child the same age as my own daughters are now, written with effort, saying so little and yet so much.

And yet what brings tears to my eyes isn't this glimpse into past lives. It's the fact that even though my father is sitting in the same room with me, I can't ask him what he remembers of that time. I can't ask him where the rest of his family were living, or how it felt to be reunited with them to make the journey to South Africa, or to ask if he remembers the aunts, uncles, childhood friends he mentions in his letters.

Because that child prodigy is now an empty husk. If I talk to him he smiles at me and nods, and I don't know if he understands or even has any idea who I am. Alzheimers is a cruel disease.

If anyone deserves a do-over, I think my father does. Born in a war, raised in a country wracked by poverty, split from his family, then relocated halfway around the world to a completely foreign land where the talent and opportunities of his youth were stunted, never to see the grandparents who'd raised him again, and now finally to this.

We can't undo the past, but we can damn well ensure that the beautiful new children we're bringing into this world have every opportunity, all the love and family and health, that they deserve. Let's not squander a moment of this precious time. Let's cuddle our babies and be thankful we live in a world where halfway across the globe is no longer an untravellable distance and where we no longer have to rely on a few clumsy words on paper to express our love.

I think of the great big plastic box under my bed, over-flowing with pictures and paintings and school notices and birthday party invites, and first school books, and I can't even imagine how hard it must have been for my grandmother to reduce their lives to the suitcases and boxes that the family brought with them by ship to their new life in Africa.

I am so incredibly grateful that I have so many momentoes of their lives to pass down to my children.

And I will be forever grateful that my grandmother kept a dozen letters from a lifetime ago. I will treasure them as much as she clearly once did.

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Down with pink!

I cheered when I read this article from The Independent last night.

I remember the days of non-gender-specific products, when my brother and I shared the same toys and books. Sometimes even the same clothes. Lego didn't come as pink for girls and dinosaurs for boys. It came in blocks of all colours and we had to make up our own shit.

I have treasured memories of having James and the Giant Peach and The Faraway Tree and Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising series read to us, and we did it as a family, not as "mom reads princesses to little girl, and knights and dragons to little boy".

My brother got a doctorate from Oxford and I get paid to make up stories, so I think we did just fine without my parents having to buy two sets of everything.

And as much as I love princesses and pink and fairy tales, even I'd get a little ill if my world was monochrome pink the way it is for many girls these days. I'm currently reading the first Harry Potter book to my two little girls and they're loving it far more than any other book I've ever read them!

So I hope the Independent's step is the first of many.

I'd rather do laundry than play Stormtroopers - said no kid ever! [Image courtesy of]

Friday, February 14, 2014

Westerwald Book 3

The tentatively titled Book 3 of the Westerwald series (Life in Technicolour) has given me major headaches considering I started with such a clear idea of what and who the book would be about!

The problems lay in the middle of the book, where I moved scenes around so often that I couldn't remember what was where any more. (and of course, every time I moved a scene, it and everything after it had to be re-written. Again. And again.)

So how did I solve the problem?
Like this:

I cleared my pinboard of all those cute cat pictures and inspirational quotes, and created a note for each scene. Then I stuck the notes up on the board, in the order I'd slotted them into the book. Each time I moved a scene, or changed the chronology, all I had to do was shift little pieces of paper around.

You know that maxim that it takes a lot of work to make something look easy? Now I understand!

Never again will I under-estimate the work an author puts into a book that appears seamless to the reader. Because now I know that the author probably spent weeks wondering what was going on in her own story, how she'd managed to get the days backwards, and whatever happened to that scene...?

PS: Happy Valentine's Day everyone!!

Monday, January 27, 2014

The man in my life has returned to me

After turning traitor on me for the last six months or more, Simba has started sleeping with me again.

Those of you who've read The Trouble with Mojitos will already be acquainted with Simba the cat. He is a large, super soft, stripy feline who belongs to Lee, flatmate to my heroine Kenzie. (But while Simba might belong to Lee, it's Kenzie's bed he likes to sleep on. And he tends to hog the bed, too.)

Which is way more info than you get in the book!

Simba is real. He moved in with us a little over a year ago when his previous family moved away and he needed a new home. That's one of the things with having kids in an international school - people come and go quite often.

I think Simba got a little peeved with me because I stayed up late every night writing instead of cuddling with him. It seems I am now forgiven.

And yes, Real Simba hogs the bed too.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Whirligig start to the new year

Wallpaper from

I love the word 'whirligig'. It has an old-fashioned and giddy feeling to it. And giddy is definitely how I'm feeling. The year started with me doing my first ever live streamed interview, talking to Lynn Jordan at Regarding Romance about The Trouble with Mojitos. No, I don't understand how mojitos could be trouble either ;-)

There have been reviews for both my Rae Summers books and my Romy ones. A whole new school year has started (accompanied by the attendant wrapping of dozens of books and labelling of every single pencil, pencil crayon and eraser), and last week another highlight: I appeared on the official NaNoWriMo blog!

You can read my blog post here: Finding the right mix for your writing group.

In between all this, I'm back at the day job, am pulling my hair out over Book 3, and have tried to balance out all the hours I tell the kids to "go away because Mommy's writing" with taking them to the circus and Sleeping Beauty on Ice (though I have yet to make good on the promise to take them to see Frozen). And there's exciting news coming soon for South African romance writers. watch this space...

How have you kick-started your new year?

[PS: I'm not really here right now. If anyone asks, I'm in my writing cave editing my NaNoWriMo novel.]

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Ring out the old, ring in the new

"Ring out the old, ring in the new
A midnight wish to share with you
Your lips are warm, my head is light
Were we alive before tonight? "

"It's New Year's Eve and hopes are high
Dance one year in, kiss one goodbye
Another chance, another start
So many dreams to tease the heart

We don't need a crowded ballroom
Everything we want is here
And face to face we will embrace
The perfect year."

- The Perfect Year, Sunset Boulevard (1994)

Years don't come much better than 2013. For me it was the year in which all the beginnings and fresh starts of 2012 grew into successes.

Last year saw me sign my first multi-book contract with a Big 6 publisher. My first two Romy Sommer books went on sale through Harper Impulse, and I self-published two of my Rae Summers novellas.

I'm even more excited for 2014!

This is going to be the year in which Harper Impulse achieves world domination with its Romance Revolution. It's the year in which the Minxes are going to make enough money out of their writing that more of us will become full time writers (and then we're setting our sights on Minx Manor!).
2014 is also the year that both of my beautiful little girls will be in Big School.
Onward and upward!!

Best wishes to everyone who has been there for me in 2013, and to all the new friends I will make in 2014. May your new year be blessed with all those things in life that bring you joy!