What are you reading at the moment?

I have this habit of reading three books at the same time. No, I'm not an octopus, but I like variety. Downstairs on my coffee table is a copy of Shirley Jump's book, THE MARRIAGE MIRACLE, which I read when I get the time [I've almost finished it by the way!] On my bedside cabinet, the bedroom is where I read mostly, is a copy of Michael Winner's autobiography, WINNER TAKES ALL: A life of sorts, and INDESTRUCTIBLE SELF-BELIEF by Fiona Harrold [that came free with a magazine a couple of years ago!]

The most absorbing of these three books has to be Michael Winner's. I love it. He hooked me from the first paragraph. His life has been so varied and interesting. As well as there being some extremely amusing parts, there are also some poignant ones. Like the way he describes how Burt Lancaster spent his last days following a stroke and how Oliver Reed had a smallish funeral in Ireland attended by ordinary folk [the type of friends he had in life] and how he, Michael Winner, was the only celebrity in attendance.

I can well believe this. I met Oliver Reed unexpectantly once at a friend's wedding. We arrived for the evening do and someone said that Mr Reed had turned up in the middle of the wedding with just a sheet wrapped around him. Then he picked up a drink, emptying it over his head, saying, "Here's a toast to the bride and groom!"

So, I wondered if he would show up for that evening as I heard he was staying for the week at the hotel. We hadn't been in the bar for more than a half hour when he showed up with his girlfriend, Josephine, who was later to become his wife and who stayed with him to the end. He was a marvellous character, he spoke to us in a normal way, as if he had always known us. I felt very comfortable in his presence. I asked him what he was doing at the hotel and he said that Josephine had always wanted to see Wales. Then he asked me if I wanted to see his tattoo--which I firmly declined--I knew it was on a certain part of his anatomy!

Anyhow, I digress, back to the books...which type of books do you like to read and what are you reading at the moment?

Writing Association Snobbery!

As I write mainly romantic suspense, so there are crime elements in my novels, I thought it might be an idea to join the Crime Writers Association

So I e-mailed someone at the website and was told to qualify for membership I would need to meet certain criteria. Fair enough. The main thing being that my book was not vanity published [that I should not have paid for publication.] I haven't. Also that I receive royalties, well I do. I thought my application would have been straightforward. Not so.

It was taken to some sort of committee and the upshot is that my publisher is not 'big enough', so I was told in so many words to come back when I have a more well known one. This really makes me mad. The reason I wanted to join in the first place is to network with other crime fiction authors and find out more about meetings etc.

Of course, my Samhain novel, A Taste of Honey, is with a much larger publisher as that book will retail at 801 Borders stores across the US, but that's a romantic comedy. My other books are with The Wild Rose Press. Why should TWRP get penalised because of petty minded individuals who only want their organisation to serve the elite few?

The upshot of all this is, I looked at some of the member pages at The Crime Writers Association and noticed that one of the members recently published, has self published both his books at Lulu! So it appears there is one rule for one and one for another! At least I know all my books have been properly edited and copy edited. Who knows about his.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not knocking Lulu. I think it's great. I've even self published there myself. The books look great and it's a reasonably priced publisher.

In the meantime, I've contacted The Mystery Writers of America
who informed me that I am welcome to join them as an affilate member because TWRP does not appear on their list of approved publishers at the moment. I'm happy with that as at least I will receive most member benefits.

The kind of attitude they have at the CWA reminds me of the kind of people who say they only read 'literary' novels. Surely, all novels are literary in some form or another.

Snobbish behaviour pi**es me off. At the end of the day we all break wind and excrete, but perhaps some people's faeces is 22 carat gold plated!

To outline or not outline, that is the question!

I was asked yesterday whether I outline when planning one of my books or not?

This is a very good question.

The answer is both yes and no.

Before you you shake your head with disapproval. I'll explain...

I'm a bit of an inbetweener. The only outline is in my head. I'll start off with a story idea, maybe something I've heard on the news or read in the paper. This leads me to a certain scenario, usually the moment something big is about to happen to the protagonist. I'll mull this around in my bonce for a few days and will also construct an ending.

Then I create a picture board. I cut out pictures from magazines or something I've seen online that gives me an impression of the characters and settings I wish to create [sometimes I take actual photographs of settings], and I stick the board up near my computer.

Then I write that first scene and work towards the ending I have planned.

This seems to work for me because I like to surprise myself. I'd hate to know too much about my novel before I started it. So some events are as much as a shock to me as they would be to the reader and I believe this helps when I want them to turn that page!

So, what do you do? Are you a plotter, a pantser, or an inbetweener like me?

Special Delivery!

My babies arrived yesterday! I became a mum to ten author copies of my book, A Taste of Honey. I am so excited about this particular book as it will actually get sold in Waldenbooks/Borders book stores across the U.S. The first time any of my published books will retail in shops.

It's also available from the publisher's website and Amazon:

Publisher's website

Amazon UK

Amazon US


Here is a short excerpt:

The man looked up. The first thing she noticed was his eyes; they were so soulful, fringed with heavy, dark lashes. She found it hard to take her own off them. They were the kind of green you could lose yourself in. For a moment, she forgot why she was here. Her mouth dry, she said, “Er, do you mind if I sit?”

He said nothing, just shook his head, indicating she could sit down if she wanted. Boy, she had a feeling this was going to be hard work.

Out of his pocket, he pulled a battered tin and some cigarette papers. Taking some tobacco, he deftly placed it in the middle of one of the papers and made a roll-up. She watched as he ran the tip of the paper across his tongue and sealed the cigarette. Now was her chance. She leaned forward, so he would get a flash of her ample cleavage, and used her huskiest voice, the one she used for jobs like this.

“Do you mind?” She placed one of her own cigarettes between her lipstick-painted lips. She didn’t normally smoke, but knew it looked seductive and, after all, she had been forewarned he was a smoker.

“Mind what?” he replied, in what sounded like an Irish brogue.

“I was hoping you would give me a light.”

“Oh.” He took a match from the box and struck it. She leaned even closer as the flame touched the tip of the cigarette. “You have to inhale at the same time.” The corner of his lips curved upwards into a half smile. She felt foolish, but she was right about one thing—he was Irish. “Now, you’re not really a smoker, are you?”

“I am,” she replied indignantly and inhaled deeply to prove she was, prompting a coughing fit. If ever Francine felt like the ground should swallow her up, it was right at this very moment.

“Here.” The man handed Fran her drink. She observed he had a tattoo of a shamrock on the back of his forearm. As she took the glass from his outstretched hand, his fingers brushed against hers. A tingly feeling danced over the surface of her skin, taking her by surprise. This wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t seem the type of person she thought he was. But his wife’s description had been accurate: collar-length, dark brown hair, green eyes, goatee beard, smoker. But no mention of a tattoo. How strange.

Now what? “Come on, you’ve got lucky.” She licked her lips. If she could just get him outside in a compromising situation, a photographer awaited to snap a picture of them together.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought you might like to come home with me for a night cap?”

“I don’t usually go off with strange women, darling!” His eyes widened and he drained his pint, then slammed it down on the table.

So that was his game, was it? He had probably guessed his wife had someone following him.

Fran tried to keep her voice controlled. “Isn’t that what lecherous men like you want? A mistress, while your poor wife stays at home looking after the children?”

He gave her a hard stare, as if she had a screw loose. “I don’t know what you’ve been drinking, but I reckon you should make that your last one. I ain’t the marrying kind. And I certainly don’t go around picking up strange women with all the morals of an alley cat.”

Well, he would say that wouldn’t he? If he suspected something.

He got up out of his seat and grabbed his combat jacket from the back of the chair. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, he pushed past her.

Immediately, Fran was on her feet. “You no-good, two-timing son of a bitch!” The pub chatter ceased and everything went deadly quiet. She hadn’t realised how far her voice would carry. It felt as if time had stopped and all the pub’s regulars were on freeze frame. This was so not how to do her job. It was unethical, but she just couldn’t help herself. The man was arrogance itself.

She watched as his shoulders tensed up. The back of his neck appeared to shrink down into his shoulders. Slowly, he turned.

People were giving him the evil eye and whispering. Good. What did she care if everyone in the pub knew about him?

The man took a deep breath. “Lady, I have never seen you before in my life and, if I ever see you again, it will be too soon.” Then he pushed his way through the crowd that parted like the Red Sea to allow him to pass.

Fran followed close after him. Once on the street, she gave a thumbs-up sign to the photographer slouched against the wall across the road, to indicate he should follow them. One thing was for sure, the Irish bloke could walk at a hell of pace. For someone who smoked, he seemed ultra fit. Fran’s high-heeled shoes pinched her feet and one of her heels got wedged in a crack in the pavement.

“Stop!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs. “I want a word with you.”

The man paused and turned to face her, then burst out laughing as she toppled over and lay spread-eagled on the pavement. Any dignity she had now disappeared. Her dress hitched up around her thighs and her stocking tops were on full view. Fran felt her face heat up.

When his laughter ceased, he ran over and helped her to her feet.

“I can manage, thank you.” She brushed the dirt from her new dress. She had torn it and broken a fingernail into the bargain.

He steadied her, taking no notice of her protests to keep away. Aware of his closeness, she shivered. Brought back to reality, she heard a click behind them. Oh no, she had forgotten—the photographer.

“What the…?” The man furrowed his brow, his lips tightening. “I don’t know what your game is, little lady, but you’d better keep away from me before I do something I might regret.” He quickly walked away.

“Yeah, run away,” Fran shouted after him. “That’s what men like you do. You’re all the same!” She remembered the photographer. “Did you get that?”

“Yep. I fired off a few shots from across the road, but the best one was when he steadied you after you had fallen.” The photographer frowned. “Hey, I’m not too happy about setting this chap up.”

“You’ve done it before, Ralph. Why the pang of conscience?”

“Something doesn’t feel right. Are you sure you had the right bloke?”

“Let me tell you, Ralph, I’ve been in this game for some time now and I know we got the right man.”

* * *

Camille Johnson fingered the large black and white prints and handed them back to Francine. “It’s not him.”

Fran’s stomach flipped over. “Are you sure? Take another look…”

“I think I’d recognise my own husband. I’ve never seen that man before in my life.”

“But I was so sure after the description you gave me. You said where he would be drinking and that he had a goatee beard.”

Mrs. Johnson raised her eyebrows and threw her shoulders back, now towering over Fran. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“Yes, you did. You said, ‘collar-length brown hair, green eyes and goatee beard’.”

Mrs. Johnson looked up at the ceiling in desperation. “I said, ‘collar-length brown hair, green eyes and that he would go to bed’. I meant he would go to bed with the woman in question. I can assure you that my husband does not have a goatee beard!” She flared her nostrils in disgust.

Fran looked at the floor. “Oh! Sorry. It’s just that you don’t see many men with goatee beards these days, so I just assumed.”

“Never assume, dear. It just makes an ass out of you and me. I shall expect a refund, of course.”

Fran swallowed. Now she would have to explain to her boss why she’d failed on this particular assignment. She had been so sure, too. Never mind, she was hardly likely to see the man again, was she? It was his local and she never drank there. She also made it a rule not to return to a pub where she had set up a honey trap. This one she would just have to chalk up to experience.

Orbs -- a trick of the light or psychic phenomenon?

I've noticed recently that some digital pics of me have come out with 'white balls' in them. Upon looking this up on the Internet I'm told by various websites that they are psychic orbs, spiritual energy if you like.

I don't know what to think of this. I feel that there must be some rational explanation as I've never seen these balls on photographs taken of me with the old 35mm cameras. Yet, the thought of orbs intrigues me. Some websites show pictures of these orbs blown up where you can make out faces inside.

I'm open minded at the moment about it all. If you look carefully in the photo above you will see an 'orb' near my cheek/chin [I'm on the right]. Although common sense tells me this must be something to do with the reflection of the flashlight in the window behind me.

N.B: To enlarge pic, just click on it.

In the bleak mid winter

Unfortunately, this is an awful time of the year for me. Whilst I should be looking forward to 2008 and all it has to bring, I find it difficult because I suffer from SAD -- Seasonal Affective Disorder. In September, I get that 'closed in' feeling as the days get shorter and the nights grow longer. I'm not too bad usually until around Christmas [the St. John's Wort helps a lot]. But then just after Christmas things go downhill.

The best way to describe it is as if I am running on half power -- my batteries aren't fully charged up or something. This has the affect of making me feel as though I have to push myself to do even the mundane tasks and drag myself about the place.

It's not exactly depression. I once had a very severe form of that and so know what depression feels like. At least with SAD I feel as though I will get better and feel 'normal' whatever normal is, again quite soon. The days are drawing out now, coincidentally, my birthday on December 22nd is usually the shortest day of the year and that's around the time when I sink to rock bottom.

I look ahead to spring time and all that has to offer. There are many people who are a darn sight worst off than me. Roll on those shorter nights and longer days, that's what I say!

What The Holidays Mean to You

This is my result when I visited the link below [see in italics]. Try it for yourself and let me know what the holidays mean to you! Some of the best Christmas presents I ever received were from an Austrian neighbour when I lived in Risca. Money was scarce, so she made biscuits for her neighbours to hang on their Christmas trees. The inside of each biscuit had a shape cut out like a star or bell, etc. She'd melted boiled sweets in the centre of each, so they had the effect of looking like stained glass windows in church. Eva also made some mini iced cakes, beautifully presented in a white box, tied with a red bow. And the best part of all? She had made me an handmade card with picture of the Madonna and Child on the front. That, to me, was the true meaning of Christmas. The spirit of Christmas was well and truly alive that year Eva surprised me with those gifts. Lynette For you, the holidays are about emotional connections and bonds. You are happiest being around those you love. You celebrate the holidays in a natural style. Homemade gifts are your favorite, and you can't stand imitation Christmas trees or wreaths During the holidays, you feel magical. You love all of the decorations and how happy people are. You like to sit back and take it all in. You think the holidays should be nostalgic and sweet. The holidays bring out your inner child. Your best holiday memories are of childhood foods and traditions. You secretly still wish you believed in Santa Claus.

What Do the Holidays Mean to You?

Cover for Watching You

This is the cover for my new romantic suspense novel due out at The Wild Rose Press early next year. It's a romantic suspense. Here's a taster:

Excerpt

Angeline fought to hold back the tears. Why did Sebastian turn on her like that? It didn't make sense. And if he was going to be so volatile then he could damn well keep his ruddy job! She could just as easily get one elsewhere, and a new home, too.

She paused for a moment to catch her breath. She'd lost her bearings in the deep woods. Should she turn right at the end of the clearing or left? The trees were so thick and dense she couldn't even see the lake house in the distance to gauge her general direction. It had been a long time since she'd been in the woods. Her childish recklessness had made her brave back then. Now, a sense of panic threatened to overwhelm her. Damn the man!

As a child, she'd known the woods well, and even though her parents warned her and William to keep out of them, they hadn't listened. They'd preferred pretending they were in their own little world where they might be jungle explorers or space travellers discovering a new planet.

Hearing a sharp crack behind her, like a twig snapping, she spun around.

No one there. Of course not. How foolish of her to think Sebastian would come after her to apologise.

Reassuring herself that it was a squirrel or rabbit, she took the left turn, which brought her into another wooded area. She was going to arrive some place soon. Common sense told her so. Her father had said that this particular stretch of woods was half a mile long. If she was headed in the right direction, she would arrive back at the house. Otherwise, she would end up at the lake where she could easily find her way home. She would arrive somewhere safely soon, wouldn't she?

She was beginning to feel like a small child again, like the time she and William played hide and seek. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find him. After ten minutes, she burst into tears, and William, being the lovely cousin he was, heard her sobs and came immediately to her side. Only now, as the tears finally rolled down her cheeks, there was no one to rescue her.

Crack.

She heard the noise again. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. This was starting to seriously spook her out. Big time. How she wished she'd never stormed off in the first place. She should have known better and realised her employer was a man in pain--emotional pain--and made allowances for that.

She caught a breath and slipped behind a tree, its gnarled trunk damp and mossy to her touch. There was someone out there, she was sure of it. If it was Sebastian, he would rescue her, but she couldn't guarantee it. In any case, she knew he didn't have a lot of time to spare to play games.

As she held her breath, she heard the unmistakeable sound of feet crunching on twigs and the sound of heavy breathing. Someone knew she was here...had followed her. Her heart started to beat like a drum beneath her clothing, her mouth dry with fear.

In the distance, she saw a man dressed in a hooded jacket with a rifle slung over his shoulder. Letting out a breath, she relaxed. It was probably Phil, the game keeper. Perhaps she should call out to him? But her voice was choked from the sobbing.

At least she now had some idea of the general direction to go. She would wait a few minutes, then follow the path he took.

Before she could act on her decision, she felt a gloved hand clamp over her mouth. She struggled to free herself, but her assailant's grip was like steel, dragging her backwards. The sky and treetops above her spun around and around until they became a blur. Coloured spots blinded her vision. Her breathing came in short bursts as she gasped for air. A pungent smelling cloth came over her nose and mouth, making her woozy. She imagined she heard someone call out her name. A swirl of colours danced before her eyes, then everything faded to black as her body hit the ground.

Crafting the Romance Story

Welsh author, Lynette Rees, has written this guide because when she started out ‘trying’ to write romance, very much by trial and error, she would have loved to have had a concise guide that put it all in a nutshell for her.

Instead, she did it the hard way – read many how-to romance books and taught herself the elements of writing romance by writing her own short stories and eventually, a romance novel.
Not that this is a bad thing of course, but if you are someone who would appreciate the facts, right now, then this is the guide for you!

Lynette has put together a system that is so successful she always gets customers emailing her with their thank yous and congratulations. All you need to do is see her reviews below to see how successful this guide really is.

Customer Reviews

"No other instructor has compared to the attention Lynette gives to a new writer."
T.Widemire ~ Ohio

"I have won first prize in a short story competition with the added bonus of £150.00 in prize money! Please give yourself a massive pat on the back, Lyn, because I know I couldn't have done this without your fantastic tuition!"
R. Brimble ~ United Kingdom

These are just a sample of reviews. Trust me you will not be disappointed!

Lynette has developed a package that is so successful, so easy to understand, so carefully written that any writer could come up with a romance story within weeks. Just check out the sort of things this guide will give you and soon you’ll be confidently writing your own romance story.

What you will learn
Learn how to craft the romance story
Discover the tricks of professional romance authors
Learn how to compile a successful submission package
Useful web links
Learn how to hook the reader in
How to avoid a sagging middle to your story
How to construct a successful black moment
How to write a satisfying ending
And so much more!

Remember, this is over 50 in-depth pages created by a top writer.

Lynette recently had one of her romance novels published in e-book format at Samhain Publishing, entitled: "A Taste Of Honey". This will be available as a paperback shortly at Waldenbooks/Borders and at the number one online book store Amazon.

Lynette also has two more books due out this year at The Wild Rose Press! “It Happened One Summer” and “Return To Winter”. That’s three novels in a short space of time.

If you read this guide, in time you might be able to say the same thing too!
This could be the step up you are looking for. Lynette Rees has put together the key points that she found difficult when she began to write romantic novels.

She has also featured interviews with 3 top authors including Maggie Shayne.


Below are some of my published articles, please feel free to view them.

• Romance Readers' Pet Peeves

• Seven Ways to Inject Suspense into Your Novel

• Develop a Kick-Ass Plot!


Are you ready to begin?

Buy A Beginner’s Guide to Crafting the Romance Story in a Nutshell
Today for just $15.00!

CLICK HERE TO BUY NOW!

Vista Print Warning

Back in September, I checked my bank statement and was flabbergasted to discover that two online sites called:

vprewards.com

and

clubprem.com

had both taken unauthorised payments of £9.95 from my bank acccount.

I just didn't get it as I hadn't signed up for anything and hadn't even heard of either of them. I checked out the links and didn't recognise them as any sites I had recently visited.

On closer inspection, I realised that both sites had connections with vistaprint.com


I had ordered large postcards, fridge magnets and business cards from this company a couple of months previously and had been satisfied with both the quality and the price. However, what I hadn't bargained for was that Vista Print had passed my details on elsewhere without permission. This appears to be happening everywhere at the moment. All you need do is Google the words Vista Print + Scam to see what I mean!


Anyhow, I tried contacting both Club Prem and V P Rewards [which I later discovered stands for Vista Print Rewards] and fair play, I heard back from Club Prem and they refunded the amount taken. However, V P Rewards did not, nor did they answer any of my e-mails.

I visited my bank who assured me that if my debit card was changed, the problem would stop. It did not. The following month the same thing happened, so I took another trip to the bank. This time the girl phoned head office to put a stop on the company taking any more money. End of story, you would think. But no. Vista Print were at it again the next month. So I rang them and spoke to some foreign guy who sounded totally disinterested and who appeared to be reading from some script. He told me the money would be refunded to my account within 7-10 days.

When I asked why it was taken in the first place, he informed me I had taken an online survey. I had not. I know that for sure as I hate those kinds of things.


The upshot is that the money was never refunded and so yesterday, I called to my bank, yet again. The account was closed down. I only lost £30.00 overall as I spotted it quickly . Unfortunately, many are not so lucky and lose hundreds of pounds before noticing these unethical withdrawals.

Self Publishing -- at what cost?

Today I read an article about a young girl in my town whose first book had just been published. Yeh! Whoo! Hoo! and all that. But wait just a minute, the article made it sound as if this young person, who is nineteen years old had done so well for herself. Well maybe she has, it depends which way you look at it.

I Googled the name of her book and the author name and found it was published by a company I hadn't heard of. So, I Googled that too and felt dismayed for the girl that she has parted with around £800.00 to see her book in print. It's a vanity press.

I've just taken a look at the contract at the website and for that price the author gets five free copies of their books! Excuse me while I cough a moment. I make that a cost of £160.00 per copy. Extortion if you ask me. Not only are the books that expensive, but if she wants it properly edited the contract says she has to pay the editor £35.00 per hour. All of this adds up to a tidy little sum for the company but not for the author.

I know her book will now get an isbn number and that it will be reproduced by print on demand but how many books would she need to sell to break even. Her book costs around the £8.00 mark [without postage and packing], so she needs to sell more than one hundred copies.

It makes me sad that people don't try the traditional publishing route. I don't mean they have to submit to a large publishing house because few new authors sell to those anyhow. Some smaller publishes will accept a book if it's any good and at no cost to the author.

I made the mistake of getting my first book published by a company that charged me a $90.00 set up fee [around £45.00] but even that amount seems small potatoes compared to the amount the young lady is being charged.

Before you think I'm anti self publishing, I'm not. I've published a couple of books via Lulu.com who don't charge the kind of fees that young lady's publisher charges.

I expect she'll live and learn as I did last year. Luckily, I've left the publisher in question and have got two superb new publishers who haven't charged me a penny to see my work in print.

Can you believe I almost missed this review?

I was going through one of my e-mail boxes just now, [this is an e-mail address I don't use that often as it gets inundated with SPAM], and I had to look twice. There was a post marked 'FAR It Happened One Summer'. It was dated 10 days ago. I can't believe I missed it.

Anyhow, the upshot is that it's my first new review for this book since it was updated and re-released by The Wild Rose Press. Here's what the reviewer had to say[she gave it four angels]:

It Happened One Summer by Lynette Rees is good enough that it kept this reader up almost all night turning the pages. I was glued to this story, almost hypnotically. It’s suspenseful enough that I jumped when the dog smacked her tail on the floor! I anticipated what chased Sandy chased me, too!

Sandy and Matt meet when he comes into the shop where she works. Purchasing an item sort of like the customer from Hell, he irks her at the start, especially when he chastises her, then informs her he’s the new area manager for the store. They get past their initial impressions of each other, and become very close. But when odd things happen at Sandy’s cottage while she’s not home she’s convinced someone may be trying to keep them apart. How to explain a stalker to someone she’s just met? Matt’s feelings for Sandy make an immediate explanation a moot point. His main goal is to keep her safe.

This is a very thrilling read, especially when I imagined Sandy’s stalker could be at a dinner party with her. That idea was creepy enough to give me goose bumps! Sandy and Matt seemed like an improbable couple at first, what with the way they met, but as the story progresses his compassion for her and the stalker situation is obvious. He cares, and it shows. In turn, it makes the reader care. I wanted Sandy to be safe, and I wanted Matt to protect her. I won’t say how this turns out, but I can practically guarantee readers will keep turning pages long after dark on this one. I know I did, and it was worth losing sleep over!

Reviewed by: Carly

A star went out last night

I was sitting in my garden last night under a star filled sky just contemplating, when I saw a star fall in the sky. I haven't seen one of those for years but remembered the old saying about how when that happens, you'll hear of a death. I told my husband about it.

Then this morning he woke me up with breakfast in bed [okay I don't get that every morning] to tell me Pavarotti had died. Of course, it's probably a coincidence, people are dying all the time. But you have to admit the man was a star.

I felt the same when Diana, Princess of Wales died, as if a star in the heavens had somehow stopped shining.

Perhaps Luciano is standing at the Pearly Gates singing Nessun Dorma as I write this.

Three cheers for The Wild Rose Press

A year ago, I left my old publisher. I won't mention the name here as I don't want to get sued but let's just say the parting was amicable. I wanted to leave and I suspect after all the fuss I made, they were glad to see the back of me.

You see, I knew they weren't serving my needs as an author. There was a distinct lack of communication from them, plus I was expected to pay a set-up fee for the privilege of publication. I got to thinking I deserved better as an author. So as soon as I was released, I sought a new publisher.

Following my experience with that publisher, I had certain expectations I wanted to see fulfilled from my new publisher. The first one, I wanted good communication. The second, they would respect me as an author, so I could keep my particular Welsh voice and British spellings. The third requirement was that they would spell my name correctly, the last publisher hadn't even managed to do that.

I had heard about The Wild Rose Press from somewhere, I can't remember where it was now, probably an online writers' group or something, and thought I would give them a go.

I was delighted when It Happened One Summer and Return to Winter were accepted for publication.

I have to say that The Wild Rose Press has exceeded my expectations as a publisher. Communication is fantastic. If I send an e-mail to one of my editors or anyone else on staff, it's answered within a reasonable amount of time. Unlike my old publisher where I tried to contact three members of staff one week on an urgent matter and not one of them replied!

I have been treated so well as an author by everyone. Today, I sent off the contract for my third book, Watching You, for publication next year. I was just as thrilled to get this one accepted as I was last year with the other two.

My romantic suspense editor, Ally Robertson, has gone above and beyond the call of duty as an editor. She's inspired and encouraged me and Watching You is dedicated to her.

The Wild Rose Press is an exceptional publisher in my eyes.

Three cheers for The Wild Rose Press!!!

Two good pieces of news over the weekend!

I got two good pieces of news over the weekend. When I arrived home from shopping on Saturday there was an e-mail in my inbox from the new editor of Writers' Forum magazine. He's interested in my proposed article about last year's charity book launch. So I was thrilled with that.

Then within an hour, I received an e-mail from my romantic suspense editor at The Wild Rose Press accepting my manuscript, "Watching You" for publication. I probably won't get to work on edits on this book until early next year as TWRP are getting a lot of submissions at the moment.

A new review for A Taste of Honey

I just opened my e-mail to find a nice message from the reviewer of my book at Two Lips Reviews named Lindy. She sent me the link to this review:

Title: A Taste of HoneyAuthor: Lynette ReesPublisher: Samhain PublishingGenre: Contemporary Romantic ComedyPublication date: April 2007ISBN: 1-59998-071-1Pages: 155Series:

Heat Level: Rating:

Fran works for the Peace of Mind agency, setting “honey traps” to catch cheating husbands in compromising situations. Unfortunately, she’s not very good at her job. She really doesn’t want her family to know where she’s moonlighting, especially her overprotective brothers. She’s on assignment when she meets Travis and publicly accuses him of cheating, but it’s a case of mistaken identity. For unlucky Travis this is just one more piece of bad luck in along string of unfortunate events. When Travis is hired as head chef in her family’s Italian restaurant, the situation is uncomfortable but Travis is pretty desperate for a job. Fran is dealing with problems of her own, including a scheming ex-fiancé who betrayed her with her best friend. Travis may be just what Fran needs: a real-life knight in shining armor. Can she trust him to protect her secret? And what about her heart? This is a very sweet love story of difficult times, family loyalty and building trust. Travis is the ultimate underdog; his luck goes from bad to worse, and you just want to hug the poor guy. Fran needs some help in the luck department too, so when they finally get together, you’ll really be cheering them on. Lynette Rees has done a fantastic job of portraying a couple learning to trust each other, and she creates a solidly heroic character in Travis. As an interesting aside, this story is full of idioms and local flavor that’s a real treat for American readers. An excellent read, very highly recommended. ** For anyone interested, you can purchase the e-book here:http://tinyurl.com/2vth8t

Which authors have influenced you?

To be a great writer you need to be a good reader. I'm often suspicious of the kind of folk who claim not to read but say they are good writers. I got to thinking, who has influenced my writing the most over the years?

Now, I can't just say it's any one particular author, more an amalgam of many.

The first author who made a huge impression on me as a child was Enid Blyton. I credit Ms. Blyton with being the person who made me the avid reader I am today. I enjoyed tales of The Famous Five and The Secret Seven, Six Bad Boys [and horror of horrors, a book that doesn't sit well with today's politically correct climate, The Three Golliwogs!]

From Enid Blyton, I progressed to Irish author, Edna O'Brien. I was a tender seventeen years of age when I went to visit my Swedish penpal, Anna Enliden, in Jonkoping. The only English books they had in the house were by this author. I think Anna's mother must have been studying her texts years back in college. I was immediately hooked on Girl with Green Eyes and The Countrygirls. What I loved about both books is that there were written in the first person and were way ahead of their time. They were originally published in the 60s and probably the forerunner for Chick Lit as we know it today. O'Brien was scandalised in Ireland at the time and book burning parties took place by local priests. Even the author's own mother took a black marker pen to her books!

Fancy having such an impact on society!

Next, I progressed to the works of Jackie Collins. Okay her books are sexy and full of raunch, but so are Edna's to be honest with you. They're just not so in your face as Jackie's! Although Jackie's books have sex in them, I don't think there is that much and they're not that graphic, that's not why I read them anyhow. Believe it or not, it's her plot and characters that keep me on the edge of my seat turning page after page. It's hard to believe she's almost seventy years of age.

If there was one author I would love to be compared with, it is this lady. She is so ballsy. Sometimes I think she writes like a man. I love the way she brings in organised crime and villains to die for. She never writes at the computer, always in longhand.

I wouldn't be surprised if she carried on writing until her dying day!






Another influence of mine has been Rosamunde Pilcher. She of The Shell Seekers fame and Winter Solstice. I love the way she paints pictures with her words. I feel that I can see the surroundings she conjures up whether it's on the Cornish coast or the highlands of Scotland.

My most recent influence has been, Karen Rose. She writes mystery/suspense. I love the way she goes into the thoughts of her villains. I have tried this myself for my most recent novel and it's really brought the plot to life!

I think writing like this gave my novel a whole other dimension. I don't know as I write this, if the book will be accepted for publication, but I feel it's my best work yet.

Opening our minds to new styles of writing is good for us as authors. I watch The Richard and Judy bookclub and sometimes choose works by authors I have never heard of before and have been surprised to discover a new author whose work I might not have otherwise tried.

So, my question to you is: which authors have influenced you?

Seven Ways to Generate Plot Ideas From Magazines

Here's a short article I wrote some time ago that might inspire some of you:

Seven Ways to Generate Plot Ideas From Magazines

So, you’re stuck for an idea to write a short story? There’s an easy way to come up with some great plot ideas by hopping across to your local newsagents, or leafing through an old magazine. Women’s magazines are the best for this, if you are targeting that type of a market. By looking through one of my old magazines that cost the princely sum of 68p (less than a dollar), I’ve come up with the following ideas:

1. Reader Real Life Stories

A double page feature entitled “My wife was 6 months pregnant with our twins when she left me for another man.” We often hear of married people running off with one another, but rarely when they are pregnant with their husband’s babies. Another real life story has the title: “Is this the worst slimming club in the world?” It goes on to explain that the members of the club have failed to lose weight and most of them have actually put it on. When it’s someone’s birthday they bring in pork pies, scones and cakes. No wonder they can’t lose weight! There could be a great humorous story there!

2. The Health Pages

Here we have a case history with the heading: “I’ve had 18 strokes and I’m only 24.” What must it feel like for someone to have a brain haemorrhage at such a young age? To end up in a coma for days and now to live their life in a wheel chair?

3. Horoscopes

It’s all in the stars. There are 12 plot ideas here from Aquarius to Capricorn! Chose your own birth sign reading and write it up as a plot idea. If you don’t like yours very much there are another 11 to choose from. For example Leo reads:

“Full of bright ideas, you’ll be dashing around, keen to make your mark. But the Full Moon at the lowest point of your chart hints that you need to draw back from too much work. Slow down and enjoy just ‘being’ for a couple of days. You’ll receive a surprise invitation.”

What plot idea could you generate from this horoscope reading? How about someone who works for an advertising agency who is a very creative person? She has been working hard on a particular project and is ‘burnt out’. She is ordered to take time off from work by her divorced boss, who pops around to see her with 2 tickets for a night at the theatre. Will there romance in the air?

4. Blurbs

These are great for inspiring ideas. A blurb is a couple of sentences that describe what a short story or article is about. For example I found these embedded within articles and features in the same magazine;


“It finally sank in - I’d been deserted.”


“After weeks of misery and indecision, the Peacocks are finally a happy family...”

“The words can also signal commitment and that can scare some men.”

“I fell in love with a cottage and three weeks later I’d moved in.”

“I nearly died laughing...”

“Hurting myself made me feel better, but who would understand why?”

There are six possible short stories from these blurbs, there were many more I could have chosen from the magazine.

5. Problem Pages

The problem pages from a magazine are great for plot ideas as they involve conflict. There are 5 readers problems on the page in front of me: a woman who doesn’t fancy her husband anymore; a woman who has 2 failed marriages and met a man who was 12 years younger; a mother who can’t stand her son’s girlfriend; a widow who is about to marry for the second time but has doubts; a woman who had a date with her postman but now he has cooled off. Any one of these problems would make a good story.

6. Short Story

We all know that we can’t plagarize another’s work, but how about reading a short story, then writing another from a different character’s viewpoint? Names and settings need to be changed, but with a little skill you could come up with an entirely different story. For example, a story where a mother in law is being difficult, seen through the eyes of her son’s wife, could be turned around so that it is viewed through the eyes of the mother in law.

7. Writing from photographs

They say that every picture tells a story. How about looking at the photographs in a magazine to see if you can come up with a plot. For example here are some photographs I see in the magazine in front of me:

A teacher leaning over a desk to talk to 2 boys in what looks like a science lesson.
A young girl sitting on the beach. A boy and girl sitting behind her are talking to one another.
A woman on a swing.
A man and a woman carrying a desk into a removal van.
A woman sitting in a field where 2 young boys are playing football.

So we could have at least 5 possible story ideas here:

A teacher who is thinking of giving up the profession maybe? A young girl who feels excluded, as her best friend now has a boyfriend? A woman sitting on a swing thinking back to her childhood? A couple who are having to leave their home? A single woman who has to look after her nephews for a week as their mother is in hospital?

The permutations are endless. You could switch points of view, come up with different ideas, and so on. So next time you are stuck for a story idea pop over to the newsagent or get out all your old magazines and get writing!

Reading romance novels aid weight loss?

I don't know where I read this, but I wonder if it's true. Can reading romance novels help keep you slim? And if so, how does this concept work?

The only thing I can think of that makes any sense, is that reading romance novels can give the reader a sense of well being. The Happy Ever After ending is the normal prerequisite in this type of novel, so consequently, this might make the reader feel more content with life which in turn stops them dipping into the biscuit barrel.

On the other hand, I suppose the reverse could happen. What if a woman is married to a couch potato who belches, scratches his balls and refuses to get off his backside as she serves him hand, foot and finger. What if the lady in question reads of this fantastic, have-a-go hero with rippling muscles and a well toned torso who f***s like a dynamo. She glances at the couch potato, realising she's spent her best years with a man who cares very little for her.





Does she do a * Shirley Valentine and go searching for her own hero or settle for what she's got, pull out a packet or two of potato chips, a box of chocolates, a bottle of Strongbow cider and join her Mr. Couch Potato [ala Wayne and Waynetta]?





I plan to give the * Romance Reader Diet a go. I intend to read as many romances as I can lay my sticky little fingers on over the next couple of weeks and I'll let you know if I end up like Waynetta Slob or Winona Riding.

Watch this space...

Another nice review for Return to Winter

I was pleased with the review I got today from The Long and Short Reviews blog:

When Stephanie Baynham comes home to Wales , the lover she ran out on nine months ago, Dylan Pryce-Jones, is waiting at the airport for her.
Will he understand why she left him without warning, during the afternoon of Matt and Sandy's wedding celebration?

Later, she returns to her apartment and finds a threatening message scrawled on her mirror: "You're Dead!" Could her life really be in danger?

(176 pages) Spicy Return To Winter is a contemporary romantic thriller. There is a cleverly British setting that offers that a bit of old-world flavor, since a big part of the setting is in a castle. Yet, the setting comes with a very contemporary twist, as the castle is home to commercial "Celtic-style' wedding ventures.

From the start, the main character's concerns and actions are intriguing. In the earliest pages, readers will believe they can sort through these webs of love, admiration, and danger, but it is quickly apparent that this is a far more complex tale than it seems. The setting may be old but the threat is most definitely modern and presents an ever-increasing danger. There are some sharp, emotional contrasts between the evil intentions of the bad guy and the warmth of the holiday spirit surrounding those desperately striving to get away from him. And, as much as one roots for a certain romantically involved pair, one cannot help but feel badly for the one lost along the wayside.

This story moves ahead quickly with just enough description to give it an authentic air (like sponge pudding for dessert, piped-in Celtic music at the reception desk, and the like) although one does wish for more physical descriptions, at times. This story is carried on excellent dialogue and unpredictable action, and those who and enjoy the odd steamier scene will not be disappointed either.

Reviewer: Nancy Lindley-Gauthier
http://longandshortreviews.blogspot.com/2007/07/review-return-to-winter.html

Another Excerpt from It Happened One Summer

“I don’t know if I can take much more of this, Matt.” She stood in the doorway of the bedroom behind him, like a little girl lost—a far cry from the strong, confident woman who sent him out shopping for her dinner party that morning.

“This person may just want to knock you off balance in some way. I think it may be an idea if you went along with these e-mails. It may help the police catch the culprit.”

“You mean I should try to get into a conversation with the Grim Reaper?” He nodded. “I don’t know if I can. I just want to switch the computer off and not check my mail ever again.”

“I’ll tell you what... how do you feel if I pretend to be you? The author will have no idea it is me responding, will they? And you don’t even have to look at any of these e-mails.” He wanted to spare her any further trauma, but he had to find out who this person was before they got to Sandy.

He got up and held his arms wide open for her, “Come here...” She didn’t hesitate to go into them, as if they were her sanctuary. Heck, he wanted to tilt up her chin and lower his mouth to her lips, to lose himself in a kiss with her. But he knew that wouldn’t be the right thing to do—the timing was all wrong. She was vulnerable right now, and he had no intention of playing on that fact.

Sandy looked up into his eyes, holding his gaze for a moment, “Matt, I think I should cancel the dinner party this evening.”

“No, don’t do that. Look, one of your guests could be the Grim Reaper. You know what they say: Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. He felt her shiver in his arms. “I’ll be here to support you. I won’t be drinking and I’ll be keeping an eye on everyone.”

“But suppose it is one of my guests. How would they have my e-mail address?”

“It’s not as difficult as you might imagine. I found an old pal of mine when I came back to Britain, just by typing his name into one of those ‘People Search’ engines. The search turned up a few other people with the same name, so I contacted all of them to find out which one it was. Don’t forget, this person may already have your e-mail address if you have given it to them at sometime or another.” His heart sank when he remembered Sandy had entered her e-mail address on her employee details form. Would she think he was harassing her?

“That’s the worst part Matt. The not knowing, it’s killing me.” He watched her face crumple as she began to cry again. He hoped her words wouldn’t turn out to be prophetic

It Happened One Summer Releases Today!

Three Suspects...

Two Lovers...

One Stalker...


It Happened One Summer releases today in digital format. It will be published in print on 12th of October.


Here's a short excerpt:


Matt was dog tired. The constant worry about
Sandy’s safety was getting to him. He took a soak in a cool
bath and went to get a nightcap downstairs. He hadn’t
drunk alcohol since before the dinner party, but he needed
a whisky tonight.

As he poured the drink, he felt like he was being
watched. He couldn’t see anything outside in the garden
from the kitchen window, and told himself it was his
imagination playing tricks.

He put on some classical music, Vivaldi’s Four
Seasons, and flopped down on the sofa in the living room.
The whisky tasted good. He placed his glass on the coffee
table; his eyelids were getting heavy. He was almost
asleep, but not drowsy enough to miss the clatter outside.
He jumped out of the settee and made for the back door.

Whoever it was would get a clout around the head for
their trouble. He’d had enough of this palaver. They,
whoever they were, were messing with the wrong guy!
He sensed the person was still outside. There was no
way they could escape without him seeing who it was. He
switched on the outside light and walked outside carrying
a baseball bat.

The garden was quite small. He could see the shed
was still locked and the metal dustbin lid lay on the floor.
This was no cat or dog out here; this was a human being.

“Show yourself, whoever you are!” he shouted so loud
he frightened himself. “Come out, you coward.”

Matt watched the person come out from behind the
shed, put down a package and hold up their hands as if
they were about to be shot.

“Well, well. Look who we have here. Our mystery
stalker...”

A Plotter or a Pantser: Which One Are You?

When you write a novel, do you plot it out thoroughly from A to B, fly by the seat of your pants, or perhaps combine a mixture of both methods?

I use a mixture of both. Because I'm a character driven writer, in that I allow my characters to tell their own tales, I tend to not want to know too much before hand. I usually have a beginning in mind, perhaps a situation the protagonist finds himself/herself in and I often have an ending in mind, but other than that, I have no idea how I'm going to get from A to B.

I love the element of surprise. So often I find myself gasping in horror when a character decides to kill another character off, or the heroine does something foolish.

I once tried to plot out an entire novel before hand. A well known romance author taught me to do this during an online writing class. On paper, the story looked fantastic with its twenty outline points. I think the plot was an interesting one too. But do you know what? It's been two years since I outlined that novel, I even had a title for it, character charts the lot, but I've yet to write the damn book. I think creating that outline zapped a lot of my creativity and spontaneity.

I think I'm better off sticking with what I know and that is, I don't really want to know too much in advance.

Potter book under guard in U.S.

Imagine your book causing such a furore that it was put under guard. And what if your book was so successful that school children eagerly read it upon purchase! That's what's happening with yet another of J. K. Rowling's books, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows".

Security guards have been hired at one of Barnes & Noble's warehouses in the U.S. to ensure staff aren't trying to get away with free copies. The firm reckons their staff don't have time to take a peek, oh yeah, who are they kidding? Someone there must have taken a look to find out who Rowling has killed off. And if Potter lives or dies.

The nearest I have got to this as an author, are my counselling clients [and people my mother know] enquiring when my next book is due out. They've enjoyed the previous two [the ones sold for the cancer charity] and now would like to get their hands on a third. That makes me ecstatic. Especially when I know that some of them are cancer sufferers who have got some enjoyment from my books.

One lady, has sadly passed since reading my book but I got the message she enjoyed it, and another who has cancer but is nothing to do with out centre, [she's a relation by marriage], sent me a nice card when It Happened One Summer was released last year. The card read: "Thanks for a cracking, good read!" That means more to me than all the money in the world.

Another of my clients told me she read it through in one go last Easter on a nice sunny day in the garden. It got her back into reading again.

I'm happy for J. K. Rowling but I'm even happier that my books are touching people out there.

You Are 100% Psychic

You are so very psychic. But you already predicted that, didn't you? You have "the gift" - and you use it daily to connect with others. You're very tapped into the world around you... Just make sure to use your powers for good!

Are You Psychic?

Watching You

I just completed another suspense novel and sent it off to the publisher this evening -- so fingers crossed!

Watching You is a bit different from my previous suspense novels. This time I go into the mind of a serial killer. As well as the hero and heroine's point of views, I use the killer's.

I had an absolute ball writing this book.

Here's a short blurb:

Angeline Hamilton is devastated to discover upon the reading of her father's will that not only has she lost her inheritance, but she has lost her family home too -- Tarrington Manor. She approaches the new owner, Sebastain Tremaine, under the pretence that she has applied for a job at he house.

Someone is watching Angeline's every move and wants revenge. He aims to get it the night of the masked ball...

What transpires is a tale of secrets, seduction and a simmering love affair that is further complicated by the losses in the lives of both lovers and the evil stalker they have to keep at bay.

Rodders was fantastic last night!

The Rod Stewart concert at The Millennium Stadium Cardiff last night, was fantastic! When we arrived in Cardiff, we immediately bumped into a couple of old friends who were also going to the concert, so we had a drink with them and something to eat before the show.

Rod was supported by The Pretenders, who were good, but I couldn't make out one word Chrissie Hynd was saying to the crowd!

Rod was in fine form for an old age pensioner of 62. He belted out the old tracks like Reason to Believe, Maggie May, Sailing etc. He has so much energy. Fatherhood appears to keep him young, he's hardly changed throughout the years.

The most touching part of the show was when he sang Cat Stevens's, Father and Son. A moving film of himself with his father and his own son growing up was shown behind him.

Rock on Rodders! I still want to listen to you crooning when you're in your eighties and nineties!

I've made a decision

I've made a decision, although knowing me, I'll probably feel differently tomorrow. I'm going to stop logging in to the missing dog website. It's been five weeks since Danny disappeared and there has been no concrete evidence to suggest where he is.

So far, there have been so-called sightings in Troedyrhiw, Merthyr Town Centre, St. Mellons in Cardiff, Tredegar and now a possible one in Brecon. I'm beginning to get very skeptical about it all.

I was just about to dish up Sunday lunch last weekend and we had a few special visitors to join us when Colin disappeared in the car. I found out that some kids had rung claiming they had seen Danny. He got there within minutes and found the children but no dog. When they gave him the description, he sounded nothing like Danny at all.

All these sightings are so vague and upsetting to be honest.

The type of call I have been waiting for since putting up posters and it going in the paper, is either: "Mrs Rees we believe we have your dog. We thought he was a stray and have been looking after him." Or: "There's a man living down the road who has recently taken a dog in fitting that description." Not something like: "I saw a dog twenty miles away two weeks ago that might have been Danny." I say: "Did he have one long pointy ear and one floppy?" "Er, I didn't notice." Believe me, mate, that's the first thing you would have noticed about him.

So for now, I am not going to keep logging into the missing dog website several times a day. All these leads [pardon the pun] are far too vague for me.

There has to come a point when I bring closure to this for my sanity's sake. There will always be well meaning dog lovers who will keep logging in and posting messages to Danny's page to say they think they have seen him.

I'm going to do as Ed kindly suggested, write a story with an ending about what really happened to Danny that night. I'll probably make it a happy ending, even if that isn't really the case.

Coincidence

Yesterday, was exactly a year since the book launch for It Happened One Summer took place at the castle. I had no idea back then that I would have flown away from my publisher and found a new one! The new publisher is The Wild Rose Press, who I have to say are treating me very well indeed.

The coincidence is that yesterday, I was sent the galley from them for the same book.

I am so glad I took the decision to step out, taking the risk with another publisher. My old publisher did not treat me well, that's why I left. I felt they didn't have my best interests at heart. I'm also now a Samhain author, who are also treating me well as an author.

Writers, I would say to you: Don't settle for second best, otherwise that's all you can expect.

Return to Winter is now available in print!

I'm thrilled that Return to Winter is now available in print!

Purchase here!

And here's an excerpt:

Stephanie sat in Dylan's armchair next to the fire place and kicked
off her boots. It was eleven-thirty. She must have dozed off as the
next thing she knew she was opening her eyes and the clock showed that
it was almost midnight. That was odd. Surely it wouldn't take Dylan
half an hour to fetch a couple of bottles from the cellar?

She slipped back into her boots and walked down the corridor in the
direction of the cellar. When she got there, the door was slightly ajar.

"Dylan!" she cried out, her voice echoing into the abyss. There was no
answer, so she pushed the heavy, creaking door until it opened fully.
She searched for a light switch but failed to find one. Perhaps if she
walked down the steps, there would be a switch at the bottom.

It was ice-cold as she descended the stone steps that had probably
been there for generations. Somewhere down in the very depths of the
castle, she heard a faint dripping sound.

Putting both palms on the wall, she scaled her way down in the inky
darkness. Good, she found a wooden rail she could hold on to.

Something brushed against her face and she almost cried out with fear.
Just a cobweb, she reassured herself. You're losing it, lady. Maybe
this was a daft idea and she should retrace her steps back up to the
top. But what if Dylan was lying at the bottom injured? That thought
was enough to spur her on.

Finally, she got to the last step and found a switch and the light
came on. It was very dim, but at least she had some illumination. She
searched around and found a small, dusty table, on top of which was a
candle holder and a box of matches. She struck one and lit the candle,
just as the light bulb fizzled out.

Shadows flickered in the cellar, casting an eerie impression. "Dylan!"
she cried out again. But all was silent. There were rack upon rack of
bottles down here. They must be worth a fortune, she mused.

It was no use, she couldn't find Dylan. She was about to go and then
let out a gasp, the hairs on her neck standing on end as she saw a
woman coming towards her carrying a lighted candle. Then she relaxed,
and let out a long breath when she realised it was only her own
reflection in an old bar room mirror on the wall.

How silly she was being, imagining all kinds of things. She composed
herself and made for the stairs. The cellar door slammed shut and the
candle blew out. Terror gripped her as she fought to keep in control
of her senses. The thud in her ears deafened her as she heard her own
heart beat as loud as a drum. What if no one found her?

"Help!" she tried to shout, but fear made her voice sound weak.
"Someone please help me!" Then she put her hands out in front of her
to try to find her way out.

Stumbling over something, she tripped and fell, hitting her head
against a wine rack. She put her hands out for something solid to help
her to get to her feet and touched something soft and warm. It was a
human leg, someone was standing by her side.

"Dylan, thank goodness. Help me up."

Two strong hands came towards her and helped her to her feet. Then
they forcefully grabbed her from behind, one hand slipping over her
mouth. This was her worse nightmare and she had no idea who it was.
Trembling, she feared she would black out and then what would happen?
Her legs felt like they were going to give way. I have to do
something. She tried to scream but the large hand was firmly clamped
over her mouth...