My brush with fame...

I'm in a book with Nora.

OK, it's in Scandanavian countries only and you need a magnifying glass to see my name, but Nicola Marsh is there too. Yay, Nic. We'll take fame (almost) any way it comes.
oh, and the book? A Wedding at Windaroo.

Aussie bargain...

The southern part of our country is suffering from a terrible heatwave that's caused bushfires and train stoppages and blackouts... and countless other problems...

Hah!! Isn't that clever? It's actually a sculpture by Orest Keywan. The artist won the $30,000 Sulpture by the Sea prize in 2006, but his sculpture captures exactly how our poor southernerns feel right now.

Meanwhile... up here in the tropical north, we still have constant rain and flooding. I tell you, it's a big country!

At school, we all learned a poem by Dorothea McKellar called "My Country" and the most famous lines are:-
I love a sunburnt country,
a land of sweeping plains,
of rugged mountain ranges,
of drought and flooding rains.

The poem was written early in the twentieth century, long before anyone had heard of global warming, but each year, those words seem to become more significant.

While I'm here... Aussie readers, if you missed the chance to read Adopted: Outback Baby, you can now buy it here at a bargain price in an Australia Day special 'sweet pack' with fellow Aussie authors. The pack includes The Boss's Unconventional Assistant by Jennie Adams (doesn't that one sound good?) and The Desert Prince's Proposal by Nicola Marsh (sure to whisk you away to a fab romantic fanatsy).

If you'd like to find out more about Adopted: Outback Baby and to read an excerpt, you can do so here.

A snug, rainy weekend...

Current abode: The Country
Currently reading: Eat, Love, Pray by Elizabeth Gilbert

It’s raining here and I’m about to revise Mattie and Jake’s story. (Revisions not too heavy, says she gratefully)


It rains a lot in this part of the world, which is fine by me. No pun intended:) It means the garden grows while I’m not looking and it’s perfect writing weather. I’m snug in my little office and I can look out at lovely views of rain drifting across the hills.
Our jacaranda is flowering for the first time – gorgeous, deep rich mauve bells.

Our neighbours have hatched masses of chickens which come down to visit us when it’s sunny. Neighbour’s daughter was carrying one little shivering, newly hatched chicken in a woolly sock the other day. She works as a veterinary nurse and I’m plying her with questions for my next book. Oh and I passed on a pile of M&Bs to said neighbour and she loved one of yours, Nicola Marsh!!!!!

Currently, in the WIP (work in progress, which I’ve had to abandon while I revise BK #1) my veterinary heroine is in a bridesmaid’s dress (after the wedding) and with the hunky hero’s help, she’s operating on a snake on her kitchen table. (The snake was left in a hessian bag on her doorstep after people ran over it) This sort of thing happens all the time to vets, apparently.
I’m having fun.

Valentine's Eve...

As I mentioned earlier, Nicola Marsh has been running a fabulous Valentine’s promo on her blog with different author guests every day. It’s my turn to be there today, answering questions and giving away a book, along with RNA prize winner, Kate Hardy.

This month there’s also plenty happening at the Harlequin Romance author’s blog – an interview with Nicola, a special Valentine’s Day post from Irish author Trish Wylie and an in depth report on the special Mills and Boon Centenary party in London by Fiona Harper. I’ve already seen some of the photos of this party – fab to see all the authors in their bling. As for semi clad waiters… definitely something to check out.

I’m doing my own Valentine’s Day stint today at my local library today. I’ll be talking about romance writing, giving away books and generally having fun chatting with readers.

And in Australia it’s Sorry Day. Our Prime Minister will be formally saying sorry to the Aborigines for the way they have been treated by white people – most specifically for the stolen generation. Young Aboriginal children, mostly half-castes, were taken from their parents “for their own good” and brought up in white families or in institutions.

I'm very glad that our PM is finally saying sorry, even though it's 41 years too late.