Ros Clarke's Blog, page 17

DABWAHA, links, and what I’m up to at the moment

I got the nomination for the reader pick in DABWAHA! I am ridiculously excited about this, so thank you very much if you nominated The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh. The bad news is that in round 1 I’m up against Sarah Morgan’s Once A Ferrara Wife which is an utterly brilliant book by one of the best category romance writers out there. I don’t expect to make it to round 2, but I’ll have fun trying. I’ll let you know when the voting starts.

 

A reader just alerted me to the fact that the links to all my Entangled books were broken. I did sort of know this, but I hadn’t quite got round to fixing them. Entangled started using a new distributor (Macmillan) last month, which has resulted in all the books being re-uploaded and having new links. I think I have fixed them all now, but if you find one that isn’t right, please let me know!

 

I am not going to be around much for the next six weeks or so (apart from the DABWAHA trash talking, obviously). My next book is due on May 5th, and I hope to submit my thesis before then, as well. The thesis is mostly written, apart from the conclusion, but it is about 25,000 words too long. I wonder if I can just put those words into my new book without my editor noticing? Maybe not…

In the meantime, here’s a ridiculously brief summary of what’s been on my kindle lately:

The Chocolate Kiss by Laura Florand: didn’t fall in love like I did with the Chocolate Thief, especially in the first half, but I forgave it everything for two chapters near the end that hit me right in the emotional solar plexus. Plus there is chocolate and patisserie. What’s not to love about that?

The Sheikh’s Disobedient Bride by Jane Porter: a very old-fashioned (though not actually old) sheikh romance, with kidnapping and forced marriage and a totally unreconstructed hero. I liked it a lot in some ways but it left me somewhat disturbed in others.



Clover, In the High Valley, Just Sixteen by Susan Coolidge: all free for Kindle! I’d read Clover before but not the others. I did find In The High Valley something of a disappointment. There is an unlikeable character, but she is never fully developed and nuanced in the way that Coolidge can do. I did like the way Dorry proposes to a girl because she isn’t clever like his sisters, who he’s been overwhelmed by his whole life.



Cassandra by Chance by Betty Neels: It’s Betty Neels, and a really good one.



The Autumn Bride by Anne Gracie: I’d been looking forward to this a lot and was somewhat disappointed. This deserves a proper post to explain why.



Goddess of the Hunt by Tessa Dare: I’m halfway through and need to finish writing this post so that I can go and finish it NOW.

Nominate me!

I would love it if you would nominate my book in this oddly named competition: https://sbtb.wufoo.com/forms/2013-da-bwaha-nomination-form/

The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh is eligible for the series/category category. ISBN: 9781622669479.

You don’t have to enter nominations for all the categories unless you want to.  You could nominate, say, Twelve Days, for the Novella category. ISBN: 9781301112432

Thank you!

What’s on my kindle

I promise there will be new Tom and Hattie soon, and even some other blog posts, but I’ve been away and busy and ill, and for now these are the easiest posts to write.

There has been more Jilly Cooper: Polo has been this week’s read. More horses, more ludicrous puns, more outrageous characters. Fab.

There is going to be more Betty Neels, following Liz’s mention of Cassandra by Chance.

And, since it is about to be March, there are going to be some new books: Annie West’s Captive in the Spotlight is first on the list.

I’m not going to be buying Katie Fforde’s latest, having been disappointed with most of her recent books. Nor will I be getting Janet Mullany’s Improper Relations, newly out on Kindle – I know many people love her style, but it’s just not for me.

What’s on your reading list this week?

What’s on my kindle

RUPERT CAMPBELL-BLACK IS ON MY KINDLE.

Oh, yes.

[image error]

Riders and Rivals in a joint edition for less than a fiver? I THINK SO. Also The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous for £2.50. I am three quarters of the way through Rivals and I shall then go back and read Riders, and then The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous.

Earlier this week I also re-read several of the Bad Blood Collection (aka Notorious Wolfes). My reviews for several of these books are here. I still think this is the best M&B continuity series I’ve read and almost all of the books are excellent or very good.

Winner!

The winner of the Entangled in Love blog hop giveaway is #19, Marlena, who said:

It really depends on my mood as far as favorite food. I am horrible at making decisions so right now, my favorite is chocolate covered strawberries! YUMMY

Your book sounds amazing. Thanks for the opportunity to win it.

Happy Valentine’s Day,

Marlena

Happy Valentine’s Day to you, Marlena! I hope you enjoy the book.

What’s on my Kindle

Mostly Betty Neels old favourites including: A Winter Love Story, Year’s Happy Ending, A Girl To Love, A Kiss for Julie. I hesitate to say that if you’ve read one, you’ve read them all, but it is almost true. They are incredibly comforting books set in a world that never really existed where capable young women with no qualifications get jobs advertised in The Lady and rich professors and doctors marry them. Falling in love is as likely to happen after marriage as before. They are books which are wholly free from POV considerations and she meanders happily from head to head. Usually, though, we get very little insight into the hero’s perspective so that we remain almost as clueless as the heroines right up until the penultimate page. Betty Neels wrote the trad Regencies of contemporary romance – no sex, not even a hint, not even after marriage. I am not precisely sure why, but I also think her characters live in the same world as Jilly Cooper’s.

I also read a dreadful Regency freebie novella, The Winter Wish by Jillian Eaton. Everything I most dislike about historical novels – inattention to period detail, language and most of all, social conventions. Also an extremely irritating heroine. If you have been in love with someone for seven years without so much as plucking up the courage to exchange two words with him, you do NOT deserve your happy ending. Ugh. And to add insult to injury, the author thinks that the correct spelling is ‘per say’. I have no idea whether this book had a copyeditor or not (it’s not self-published), but that is inexcusable. It’s no longer free, and I would say that this is not worth its current price of 77p.

Inspired by my trip to London last week, I also re-read Abby Green’s wonderful Bride in a Gilded Cage. I love the tango scenes in this book so much.

Midweek indulgence

Last week I went down to London for two days of sheer luxurious indulgence. It was perfect.

First on our agenda was afternoon tea at Fortnum and Mason. We popped in to Hatchards for a quick browse beforehand so that we could pretend to be proper Heyer heroines. Then we admired the tea and food on sale on the ground floor and I salivated at the chocolate and sweetmeats counters. Upstairs we were careful not to let our bags knock the wildly expensive crockery off the display tables in the kitchen/dining department. And then we took the lift to the fourth floor and the Diamond Jubilee Tea Salon.

As we arrived, someone was playing on the grand piano. A member of staff took our coats and my overnight bag to the cloakroom and then we were shown to our table. They serve 82 varieties of tea at Fortnums and to help guests try some of the more unusual kinds, they offer a tea tasting. Four kinds of tea (rotated on a weekly basis) are brought to the table and a bowl of each is made for you to try. We tried two green teas, a Darjeeling, and (I think) an Assam. The green teas were spectacular and F. ordered both to have with our tea, while I went for my favourite Countess Grey and a glass of pink champagne. The tea menus have a set price and you can have as much food or tea as you like with them, which gave a wonderfully sumptuous feel to the event.

I had the traditional afternoon tea: sandwiches, scones and cakes. Which in no way does justice to the food I ate which was heavenly and so beautifully presented. I had five kinds of sandwiches, presented with the fillings upright and colour co-ordinated from deep pink (salmon), pale pink (roast beef), pale yellow (egg), pale green (chicken and tarragon), deep green (cucumber). There were fruit and plain scones, served with lashings of clotted cream (we ordered extra and had far too much), and fresh lemon curd or jam. Individual cakes were chocolate and rose, lemon and praline, and vanilla and cherry. And there was a homemade jammy dodger. Plus there were large cakes you could have slices from but my appetite failed me at that point.

There are two other menus: a savoury afternoon tea which substitutes various canape-type things for the cakes, and a high tea which substitutes hot savoury dishes for the sandwiches. F. had two dishes from the high tea menu, scones and no cakes. She chose Welsh rarebit and a lobster truffle omelette. I didn’t try the Welsh rarebit though it looked delicious, but I did try the omelette which was one of the best things I have ever eaten ever. SO GOOD.

The staff were brilliant, constantly checking that we had enough of everything – more sandwiches, more scones, more cream, more cakes, more tea…. We did not eat again until the next day.

After tea we had thought it would be nice to go downstairs and buy some of the teas we had enjoyed drinking. F. bought me 150g of the Countess Grey. Then she asked for the green tea she had most enjoyed. Which turned out to be £500/kilo. Um, no. But it did make the afternoon tea seem even better value than before. It is not cheap, but I’d say it’s worth it.

Anyway, we then went to try on hats, smell perfumes and such like before changing into sparkly outfits in the loos for the next stage of our adventure.

To be continued…

Lying for the Camera: chapter eight

Chapter Eight

He called her from Milan. Twice. Then New York and Morocco. Brief conversations that left her wanting more and plotting her tactics for his return. She had big plans for Tom Metcalfe on his return.

He’d emailed the portfolio pictures and, which she hadn’t expected, arranged for a printed set to be delivered to her. She took the box from the courier and opened it up to find a simple black file with her name stuck to the front. Professional but not ostentatious.

The pictures inside were nothing like her old portfolio. Hattie stared in wonder at the woman Tom had seen and shot. She didn’t look like she was pretending to be a model. She looked like herself, only a million times better.

There was a note tucked inside. “Feel free to rearrange them. Keep the smile on top.”

She remembered him taking that shot of her during their picnic. She’d been looking up to the sky, following the cloudy tracks of a plane. He’d spoken her name and she’d turned to him, and smiled. And he’d captured the moment forever.

It felt almost too personal, too precious, to use as a selling card for hawking herself to model agencies. But Tom had told her to keep it on top so that it was the first picture they saw and she knew he was right. It was an arresting image, memorable and familiar. There were a thousand products it could sell.

Two days later, she got an email inviting her to bring her portfolio to an agency she’d never heard of before. She checked with Tom and he told her it was the one his contact had recommended. They supplied all the major advertising and PR companies with models. If she got herself on their books, then all sorts of opportunities could open up.

Hattie booked a day off work, got up ludicrously early in the morning to sort out her hair and make up, and work out what to wear. In the end, she opted for the same outfit she’d worn to the picnic – jeans and a checked shirt. If nothing else, it would confirm that she was really the woman in the photos.

She picked up a coffee and walked to the bus stop. Her phone buzzed to announce a text message.



You’ll wow them. xx

She smiled and sent one back.



I know.

His reply came after she’d got on the bus and squeezed onto a seat.



Don’t flirt with anyone.

She laughed.



But how else will I get the job?

He was slow to answer and she’d all but finished her coffee by the time the phone buzzed again.



I don’t want to know.

She could imagine the wry grin as he’d seen her response and the shake of his head while he typed his own. He was so cute when he was pretending to be outraged by her.



Nearly at the office now. Talk to you later.

It was only a couple of minutes from the bus stop. Hattie took a moment to check her appearance and redo her lipstick. She arrived promptly at nine o’clock and walked over to the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Andy. He’s expecting me.”

A dark-haired girl who couldn’t have been more than nineteen looked her up and down, rolled her eyes, then swivelled her chair back to her monitor.

“Name?”

“Hattie Bell.”

“All right.”

Without another glance at Hattie, the receptionist started flicking through the pile of mail on her desk.

“So, where should I go?” Hattie bit back her exasperation.

The girl looked up in surprise that Hattie was still there. “Second floor. Lift’s behind you.”

“Great. Thanks so much for all your help.” She was reasonably sure that her sarcasm had gone straight over the receptionist’s head.

“No worries.”

Hattie stepped out of the lift into an open-plan office. Unlike the foyer, the second floor was full of people and activity.

“Hattie?” A bald, slightly plump, middle-aged man came forward to greet her.

“Hello. Are you Andy?” Smile, shake hands, don’t blurt out your life story all at once.

“Andy Mitchell. Pleased to meet you. Tom’s told me all about you.”

“He has?” What on earth had he said?

Andy smiled pleasantly. “All good, I promise.”

“I brought my portfolio.” She handed over the black file and surreptitiously wiped her clammy hands on her skirt.

“Fine. Coffee?”

“No, thanks, I just had…”

“Jason!” Andy cut her off. “Bring a pot of coffee over to the interview room.”

A young man in an astonishingly orange sweater nodded and disappeared.

“Experience?” Andy guided her past a series of huge display boards.

“Oh, um. Some. I worked for Tom a bit. And life-modelling.” It wasn’t much, she knew that.

“No issues with nudity, then?”

“No.”

“Even blown up to ten times lifesize on a billboard?”

He showed her into a small room with a couple of soft chairs and a drooping pot plant.

“My mother would have ten fits, but no, I wouldn’t mind being naked on a billboard.”

“Good. Acting work?”

“None.” She bit her lip. He wasn’t asking about her role as third shepherd in the school nativity play. She was determined to be professional. This could be her big chance and she was not going to blow it.

“Honest. I like that. Most of what we deal with are stills, anyway.”

His face gave nothing away as he flicked through the photos. He paused once or twice but she couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. He finally looked up when Jason brought the coffee in.

“None for me, thanks,” she said when he indicated she should take a cup. More caffeine would be disastrous at this stage.

“More for me.” He smiled again. “What’s your availability like?”

She pushed her sweaty hands down her jeans again. “I work in an office. But I could easily get temp work if I needed to be more flexible.”

“Live in London?”

Hattie nodded.

“Good. Tell Jenna to get your details. You’ll need to send us copies of the portfolio.”

He stood up and she followed suit. “You’re taking me on?” Did that sound desperate? Was it okay to be desperate?

“Can’t guarantee any work.”

“I understand.” He was letting her down gently.

“But I think you’ll be easy to place. Very commercial.”

“Right. Good.” That was a yes, right? Definitely a yes.

“Tom said you were a dream to work with. He’s got a reputation for being tough on his models.”

“I dislocated my collar bone.”

Andy laughed. “I hope he paid you danger money.”

She shrugged. “He kissed it better.”

His eyes narrowed with interest. “Did he now?”

“Does it matter?” Oh, God, she’d really blown it now. He’d think she rolled into bed with every photographer.

He shook his head. “No. Not if you’re as good as I think you’re going to be.”

Hattie let out a long breath. That was definitely a yes. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She wrangled the contact form out of the receptionist, filled in her information and made sure that the girl didn’t put it underneath a huge pile of papers marked for recycling.

As soon as she was out on the street, she texted Tom.



Wowed them.

He wrote back almost immediately.



That was quick. They must really like you.



Well, duh.

She grinned at a passing stranger. Everything had gone brilliantly. Better still, it was only ten o’clock, she had the rest of the day off work and there were shoes to be bought and dresses to try on. She needed something truly spectacular to wear for Tom’s exhibition.

The Morocco shoot was dull. Tom had no idea how a country so full of vibrant light and colours could become so tedious when peopled with half-naked skinny teenagers. The magazine’s fashion editor had brought clothes in neutral tones and told Tom to make them shimmer against the north African skies.

He’d had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at her and remind himself that this was the work that paid the bills. The exhibition, on the other hand, might not make a penny. In fact, it could end up costing him a fortune.

So he set up the shots she wanted, manoeuvred the models into position and found ways to make them come alive for the camera. But at the end of the day, he was glad to return to the souk and phone Hattie.

“Hey,” he said, when she answered at the second ring.

“Hi. I’m just in the middle of making dinner, but I can talk while I’m stirring.”

He could picture her in the chaotic flat, searching for a wooden spoon and testing the food while it cooked.

“What are you making?”

“Just spag bol.”

“Sounds delicious. I have to go out later and eat forty kinds of couscous.”

She laughed. “It’s a tough job. How was your day?”

“Boring. How was yours?”

“Brilliant. I’m going to be a huge success. Andy said so.”

He kicked his shoes off and lay back on the bed among the piles of embroidered silk cushions. “What did he actually say?”

She huffed. “He said I was very commercial and I should be easy to place.”

“Great.”

“He also said you’d told him I was a dream to work with.”

Tom smiled at the phone. “I never said any such thing.”

“Liar. Anyway, he believed you and he’s going to make me a star. So, thanks.”

“Hattie…” He hated the way she always built such vast, ornate castles in the air with only the flimsiest of foundations. She’d end up being disappointed and he didn’t want that.

“No, don’t say it. Just let me have one evening to enjoy the dream.”

He sighed. “Fine. But…”

“No buts. For once in my life everything’s worked out. I found an incredible dress to wear at your exhibition opening, by the way. Just wait until you see it. You won’t know what to say.”

“Surprise me.”

“I’ll try. I’m not good with keeping secrets.”

“It’s only a dress.”

“You won’t say that when you’ve seen it.”

“I’ve made dinner reservations for Saturday.”

“Somewhere good?”

“Depends what you mean by good. Do you want paparazzi and celebrities, or enough food to eat?”

“Tough choice but I’ll take the food this time.”

“That’s what I thought. You’ll love it.”

“Tom.” He heard a clatter in the background, then silence.

“What’s up?”

“I’m scared.”

He sat up slowly. Hattie was never scared. “What of?”

“You know this is it. What I’ve always wanted. This really could be it for me. My one chance.” She paused and he waited for her to continue. “I’m utterly terrified I’m going to mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess it up,” he told her. “Hattie, you know you’re not. You’re incredible in front of a camera. That portfolio blew me away and it clearly had the same effect on Andy.”

“What if I fall down the stairs and break my leg tomorrow?”

“Then you’ll go and get crutches and phone Andy to put things on hold for a couple of months. Seriously, Hattie. Nothing’s going to screw this up for you now. Not unless you develop some hideous skin disease, or get pregnant or something.”

Silence. He almost thought she’d been cut off, but then he heard her breath catch.

“Hattie?”

“Say that again.”

“Nothing’s going to screw this up for you now.”

“Unless I get pregnant.” He’d never heard her voice so shaky.

“Hattie? Hattie, what’s going on?”

“We didn’t use a condom.”

“You’re on the pill. Hattie, dammit, you told me you were on the pill.”

He ran a hand over his face. This wasn’t happening. She was being irrational.

“I was. I am.”

“Then you can’t be pregnant.”

“I can’t remember when my last period was.”

“Go and get your diary. Now, Hattie.”

He heard the sounds of the phone being dropped. A few moments later, she was back on the line.

“It was before the photoshoot.”

“And that started two and a half weeks ago. How long before?”

“Um…” Pages were being turned. “I think… oh, God, three weeks.”

Tom closed his eyes and grimaced. “Five and a half weeks in total.”

“Yes, I think… yes.”

“Hattie, is your dinner still on the hob?”

“What?”

“Turn it off before you burn your house down.”

“Okay.”

He gave her time to do it, and tried to get himself under control.

He spoke as calmly as he could manage. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Put a coat on, and go to your nearest chemist. Buy three pregnancy test kits and bring them home. Do it now, Hattie.”

“Tom?”

“I’ll ring you back in half an hour. You can do the test then.”

The phone went dead. He dropped back onto the bed and pressed his hands to his face. It couldn’t be happening. It would be okay. A false alarm. Stress, maybe. Or some hormonal imbalance. Women missed periods all the time.

He shook his head. He had to face the reality. Hattie was pregnant.

She’d do the test, the stick would turn blue and then there would be no escaping it.

38 things resurrected!

Phew! One of the things I lost when the website went down was my list of 38 things to do while I’m 38. But thanks to the magic of the internet, I have tracked down a cached version of the old page, so I can now update my progress.

1. Get first novel published (and hopefully second and third)

2. Become Dr. Ros

3. Go to see the Strictly Live Tour at the O2.(We actually went to Wembley Arena.)

4. Holiday in Sardinia

5. Go to Woolfest

6. Enter craft and baking categories at the county show.

7. Learn to weave properly

8. Finish some of my knitting WIPs

9. Eat something I’ve never eaten before

10. Learn to make fabulous lingerie

11. Spa day with F.

12. Plant 38 new bulbs

13. Become a better spinner

14. Go to see the Strictly Dance To The Music Tour

15. Visit 38 new places

16. Walk along a beach without shoes

17. Make a new quilt

18. Eat pizza in Italy

19. And gelato

20. Do The Artist’s Way

21. Make puff pastry from scratch

22. Start saving for the Best Holiday In The World Ever

23. Swim in the sea

24. Have my hair cut in a different style

25. Wardrobe cull

26. Book cull

27. Buy new clothes

28. Buy new books

29. Learn to take better photos

30. Get a professional manicure

31. Sign up for an OCA module

32. Start teaching again. Not in a school, obviously.

33. Start wearing perfume more regularly

34. Find a dance class to go to

35. Be in the audience for a TV or radio show. Preferably Strictly, but I realise this is unlikely.

36. Have afternoon tea at glamorous London hotel

37. Always have flowers in the house

38. See the Staffordshire Hoard

Not bad at all. Still to do with just over two months to go:

2. Become Dr. Ros

7. Learn to weave properly

10. Learn to make fabulous lingerie

15. Visit 38 new places

20. Do The Artist’s Way

21. Make puff pastry from scratch

22. Start saving for the Best Holiday In The World Ever

30. Get a professional manicure

31. Sign up for an OCA module

I am reasonably hopeful about #2, 10, 21, 30. I have begun #10 with one pair of pretty knickers and I have the pattern and all the kit to start on a bra soon.

There is a possibility of #7, 20, 22, but I think it’s likely that I won’t do them in time.

I am pretty sure that #15 and #31 are not going to happen by April 15th. This is okay.

#2 is obviously the one causing all the angst, sleeplessness, stress and fatigue. I have a very nearly complete first draft which will need serious chopping to get down to size. We shall see. If I have submitted by my birthday I will be very happy indeed.

What’s on my kindle this week

I almost forgot about this, because I have been away for a couple of days and it isn’t yet enough of a routine to be a habit. So I’ve got about 10 days’ worth of reading to catch up on.

Sold to the Enemy by Sarah Morgan

I’ve loved almost every book I’ve read by Morgan and this one is no exception. In fact, it prompted a re-read of a couple of old favourites of hers, The Sultan’s Virgin Bride and Doukakis’s Apprentice. She always writes strong, interesting heroines who challenge their heroes. The heroine in Sold to the Enemy has had to put up with more than most and she totally deserves the happy ending.

In the Heat of the Spotlight by Kate Hewitt

I’ve been waiting for this since I read an early version of the first chapter nearly a year ago, and it didn’t disappoint. Deeply emotional and deeply satisfying. Loved it.

Ozma of Oz by L. Frank Baum

The complete Oz chronicles were on Amazon for some ridiculously cheap price. I started with this one because, other than the Wizard of Oz, it’s the only one I remember from childhood. Lovely. A bit scary but always a guaranteed happy ending, so it’s nice, safe reading. There’s a bit in this one that reminds me of The Silver Chair, though I’ve no idea which was written first or if there was any actual influence.

Hired: The Sheikh’s Secretary by Lucy Monroe

Another re-read. I do love a clueless sheikh and an ugly duckling secretary, and these two are perfect.



When Two Paths Meet and Roses and Champagne by Betty Neels

There are times when only Betty Neels will do and today was one of those days. A sweeter, safer world, these are like traditional Regencies set in 1980′s England (or Holland).

That’s what I’ve been reading. What about you?