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...

Strange phone calls about Danny

Putting our home phone number in the local paper when advertising Danny's disappearance might be a bit of a two edged sword. So far I have received two calls regarding him:

The first one was last night. A young woman rang saying she thought she had seen him last week between Abercanaid and Troedyrhiw on the canal bank. I immediately thought: If he was that near why didn't he just come home? She said she was walking along and the dog joined her and kept running off and laying down on the floor. Didn't sound like Danny's behaviour at all. So I asked her if the dog she saw had one long pointy ear and the other floppy. She said she hadn't noticed. Now his ears are so prominent you couldn't possibly miss them! Not only that there was a very clear picture of him and his ears with a written description in the paper. The final clincher for me was when she said he was wearing a red collar. Definitely not Danny.

The second call came when I had just come in from work this evening with piles of shopping to put away, I hadn't even got as far as taking my coat off. A male voice I would estimate to be in his 60s started talking to me in a familiar way. "I read about your dog missing in the paper..." At first I thought it might have been my father or my uncle, but then it was obviously not. This man, as well meaning as he was, was just ringing to find out if we had found Danny! GRRRR! I felt like saying to him: "Well that's why I thought you were ringing me not the other way around!" Instead, the penny dropped and I asked him if he had any information. To which he replied "No."

To cut a long story short, he proceeded to tell me all about his dog and how it might need an operation. I didn't lose my temper, I just sympathised with him when I really felt like saying: "Why on earth did you bother ringing me?" One good thing though, I found out from him that he'd read about it in the local Rhymney newspaper, so the article is appearing further afield than I thought.

Another thing I noticed about both phone calls is that they were both withheld numbers. Perhaps they were people who just wanted to chat about dogs in general. Those kind of phone calls I can do without right now.

At last -- report of missing Danny in the newspaper!

I've been trying to get something in the paper about Danny since the weekend he went missing, almost four weeks ago. At last The Merthyr Express has printed a decent sized article about him along with a photograph.

So I shall be waiting with baited breath to see if anyone rings here.

I'll keep you posted.

Finding it difficult to write

I'm finding it difficult to write at the moment. I don't mean in this blog or anything, I mean the novel I am in the midst of. I've changed the title to 'Midnight Shadow'.

It's a romantic suspense thriller and this book is a little different for me in that this time I have included the thoughts of the villain. I've read several books like that by big name authors that have intrigued me. It makes the read more 3 dimensional, I think.

I find I'm writing in short spurts at the moment. I can probably only get down a page or two every day, whereas last October, I managed to draft a full novel in less than one month. I'm lacking focus and in general I'm not really myself. There is still no news about Danny. I rang The Merthyr Express this week to check to see if they have received the second press release from the press officer at http://www.doglost.co.uk

They appeared to know about it and so, I'm hoping, it will go in the paper this week. I feel this is our best hope of getting him back if someone is looking after him. If not, then I am going to have to draw a line and bring about some sort of closure for myself. Some of my family think I have been too optimistic about getting him back, but reading about some of the success stories of dogs being reunited with their owners on the doglost site has given me some hope. Some have been missing for months.

The sad thing is that these days a lot of dogs are stolen. I think one of the sadest tales I read there was of one dog who had been stolen with its owner's van and then dumped by the motorway by the thieves. It got killed by a car. This dog was the part of someone's family and to do something like that to steal something of material value beggars belief.

I sent off for two dog tags on the weekend with our address and phone number on, they arrived this morning, so I have attached them to Milly and Shelley's collars. Perhaps if I had got one for Danny, someone could have returned him to us. It might sound naive but it didn't really occur to me before, even though we've kept dogs before. The dogs are walked regularly and are not thrown out into the street, so I thought it wouldn't happen to us. I was wrong.

My hope is that someone is taking care of Danny and will give him lots of love, my fear is that he's dead. The worst part is the not knowing.

Wanna be tagged?

I found this post on Ms. Creativity's blog and have adapted it for this blog. So do you wanna be tagged?

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so:

1. Holly’s Corner
2. Daddy Forever
3. Sparky’s Scratch
4. The Story of an Aspiring Writer (or two)
5. Nettie's Ramblings

Next select five people to tag:
1. YOU!
2. if
3. you
4. want
5. to...

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Just left college and didn't have a clue what I was going to do!

What were you doing 1 year ago?

Just had my first book published and waiting for book launch at Cyfarthfa Castle.

Five snacks you enjoy:

1. Cheese and tomato toasties

2. Cheese and onion crisps

3. Chips and gravy

4. Beans on toast

5. Sausage roll

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:

1. Waterloo - Abba

2. Angels - Robbie Williams

3. Without You - Nilsson

4. Someone Saved My Life Tonight - Elton John

5. Living on a Prayer - Bon Jovi

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:

1. Divide some of my fortune up between close family

2. Give a proportion to charity

With the rest I would:

3. Invest

4. Take a nice holiday [probably the U.S.]

5. Buy a writing cabin in the woods

Five bad habits:

1. Disorganisation

2. Procrastination

3. Not keeping in touch enough with people

4. Looking on the black side

5. A quick temper

Five things you like doing:

1. Trying something new

2. Getting a book or article published

3. Walking in the woods

4. Getting into a clean bed

5. Catching up with people at Christmas

Five things you would never wear again:

1. A mini skirt

2. A bikini

3. Hotpants

4. Polyester

5. Shorts

Five favorite toys:
These are from my childhood:

1. Walking talking doll

2. Tiny Tears

3. Handmade dolls house [made by my grt uncle]

4. Sleigh [made by my grandfather]

5. Kernockers

Which child am I?

I found this image of my school sports day at the Old Merthyr Tydfil website and was amazed to see myself on there. I think I might have been about 10 at the time. I have no idea who sent the picture in or any recollection of that particular race. However, what I do remember is I never used to win. There were always better sprinters than me. I used to try very hard though. I never came last probably somewhere half between.

I think I reached my peak with school sports at the age of 15. I was a good cross country runner and not too bad at the high jump and hurdles as well. In 1976 I was due to captain the red house team for the girls [Caradog House], but alas, I never got my moment of glory. As my father was a postman, we used to take our holidays at different times and often I would have to take a week or two off school for the family holiday.

Now the question is...which girl am I on the picture? [Click on picture to enlarge]

I'll give you a clue: I'm the one with a very determined look on her face!

Nice Review

**Purchase e-book here, print book from June 29th

Return to Winter will go into print on June 29th. I got quite a nice 4 star review for the book from Annie at Euro-Reviews:

Stephanie Baynham returns to South Wales from a nine-month stay with her grandparents in Italy, where she fled from her feelings for Dylan Pryce-Jones. Stephanie and Dylan became close--intimately close--at the wedding of Matt and Sandy, held at Dylan's establishment, but Stephanie's fear of abandonment impelled her escape, leaving Dylan distraught and puzzled. When she returns, she is astonished to discover, first of all, that Sandy is expecting in a few weeks; and second, that Dylan appears to be engaged to his manager.
Christmas at Dylan's castle inn is certainly going to be an uproar for Stephanie.

Much worse, when she returns to her apartment block, the words "You're Dead" are scrawled across her mirror. Stephanie runs again, this time in fear of neighbor and former boss Lawrence Black, nightclub owner and general sleazy type, whom she suspects of killing one of his female employees, in his apartment across the way from Stephanie's. She is right to fear Lawrence,but what she doesn't yet understand is that she has more to be terrified of than just him, including others who wanther out of the way, and her own emotions toward Dylan. Stephanie and Dylan, along with the reader, are in for a roller-coaster ride of suspense, emotions, intimacy, and general uproar!

Return to Winter reprises as secondary characters Matt and Sandy who made It Happened One Summer such a delight to read. In this volume, however, this reviewer found Stephanie a much less appealing character. Ms. Rees performs excellently at delineating Stephanie's insecurities and underlying fear of abandonment. Dylan, the hero, is also well-designed and his parents, and their separate paths, are intriguingly constructed, keeping readers' attention on that sub-plot. The plot will entice readers' notice and keep all guessing. Kudos to Lynette Rees for her ability to twist the plot around unexpected corners and deliver constant reader surprises.

Annie ~ Euro-Reviews

A false alarm

My neighbour knocked my door earlier this afternoon to say that she thought she had seen Danny at the top of her steps and he had just run up the road. It was pouring with rain, so with my heart hammering like a jack hammer, I bolted through the door. Colin shouted he would get the car out.

I walked quickly up the road only to discover it was Milly [Danny's mother] who was out. I was so annoyed with Colin as I realised he had left the back door open [he's always doing that].

My neighbour apologised and I told her not to worry as if she hadn't called me we could have had two missing dogs on our hands.

Feeling better today!

I'm feeling a lot better today, mainly from posting to that site yesterday which led to contact from:
http://www.doglost.co.uk/ who phoned me this morning for more details and a pic of Danny.

They have posted up the details and created a poster for helpers to display:
http://www.doglost.co.uk/forum.asp?ID=9873

I'd be over the moon if I got my little boy back. It really helps to know there are other dog lovers out there supporting me.

I feel awful today

I dreamt a couple of nights ago that Danny came home. I saw him walking down the steps and I rushed to open the front door, only when I did, it wasn't him it was another dog.

Since then I have been feeling worse and worse. Today I am particularly bad. My son and I had a talk last night and we both concluded that the unthinkable has happened, I don't want to even say it here.

Everywhere I go, whatever I do, I am reminded of Danny, it's awful. I picture him sitting on the garage steps, or lying on his favourite chair with his paws crossed.

I've been trying to register him as missing on various pet websites for about a week or so now, only some of the free ones I've joined, once I upload the details, for some reason they won't go through. A good one I found this afternoon though, charges £24.99 and they don't do much more than we've done ourselves already, such as sending posters to the vets, dog wardens, rescue shelters, etc.

Finally, I found one that worked and doesn't even charge, not that I mind paying if they do something different to what we've already done.

I just sent Danny's details off to this missing pets website along with his picture:
http://www.lostdogsuk.com/ld4824%20border%20collie.htm

This is killing me.

March 9th, 2006, I saw Millie give birth to Danny, I helped wean him, I nursed him. I spent every day with him. I find myself talking to him, but he's not here anymore and it bloody hurts. It hurts like hell.

Dog warden

I just received a phone call and at first I thought it was someone with information about Danny, but it was the local dog warden asking if we had found him. He told me it might be worth contacting the dog warden for Rhondda Cynon Taf. We are living near the Aberdare mountain, so Danny may have gone over that way.

I rang their offices and someone asked the dog warden over there. It doesn't sound as if they have him, although, I did explain that although he is a Border Collie, he doesn't particularly look like one. They told me the dog pound is open tomorrow morning between 10 and 12, so it might be worth a visit.

One week has passed

Well it's been one week since Danny went missing and we are still no closer to finding him. We've done just about as much as we can to find him. Most of the week on and off I have been in floods of tears. I was okay yesterday, but today, now it's a week later, it really brings it home to me.

This time last week, I went into work a little later than usual, so I had time to walk the dogs before I left, instead of asking someone else to do it. Danny was still here then. I took the three of them over the tip and we played with the ball. He wasn't quite as quick as the other two at getting it, so I tried to make sure I threw it in his direction so he got a chance to bring it back to me.

When I returned from work that day, I brought their usual Friday treat for them. I had got into the habit of buying them a little something from the pet section in Wilksons every week. There are two bone sort of dental sticks in each pack and I would buy two. The other dogs took their time over theirs, but Danny always ate his so fast, that I would end up giving him the extra one as well.

It's strange, that I had been thinking how happy and lucky I was to have three great dogs. One of my neighbours had only commented a few days before how healthy the three of them looked. How was I to know when I went to bed that night, leaving my husband to walk them, it would the last time I would ever see Danny?

I feel in my heart, and I have felt this from the first hour he went missing, that I will never see him again. I hope I am proved wrong.

Still no news about Danny

Yesterday was a very weepy day for me. Danny still hasn't come back home or been found. Colin, my husband, visited the RSPCA, the police station and made enquiries about the dog pound. He was given a phone number for a rescue centre in Gelligaer, where the stray dogs from this area are taken. We rang twice yesterday and also today, but so far, he hasn't shown up.

The local farmer has been informed and the country ranger. So we are doing all we can. It's awful without him. It got me thinking to how the bereaved feel when a loved one has died. I can quite relate to addressing him and realising he is no longer here, and to constantly looking for him around the house. I just keep hoping when I wake up in the morning, he will be sitting outside the front door as if nothing has happened. If he shows up, he is going to have the longest hug ever and the biggest meal he has had in his life!

My daughter made up a poster:

Missing

Danny went missing in the vicinity of Gethin Woods [near the bridge at the rear of Anthony Grove], at around 11.00 p.m. on Friday 1st of June 2007.

Danny is 15 months old and very friendly. He is quite slim, short haired and his coat is mainly black. He has very distinctive ears - his left ear points upwards and his right ear is floppy.

If you have any information regarding Danny, please contact:

01685 373073 / 07891596350

There is a £100.00 reward for Danny's safe return.

Missing Dog!

It's been a sad weekend. My hubby took the three dogs out for a walk, late on Friday 1st of June at around 11.00 p.m and only came back with two.

Danny, the youngest, age 15mths, ran off and failed to return. He has run off once or twice in the past and has always come back to the house within an hour or so. It is now almost 48 hours since his disappearance and we are all breaking our hearts.

It's the little things I miss, like seeing him curled up in the armchair when I come in through the door, or hearing him howling as the ice cream van plays the theme from Match of the Day.

Of course, we have all searched. The kids have been out numerous times and are going out again as I write this. We will not give up looking for him. He's one of our own, part of our family.

Danny is quite slim and short haired and doesn't look distinctively like a Border Collie, although he is.

His coat is mainly black, with white markings on the back of his head. His chest is dappled [grey and black] and his paws are a sandy/dappled colour. The tip of his tail is white. He has very distinctive ears. His left ear points upwards [very long and straight] and his right ear is floppy.


If you have seen Danny, who went missing from the Abercanaid/Merthyr Tydfil area late on Friday 1st of June, please contact us on:

07929 181 662

A question popped into my mind the other day: Why do Harlequin Mills and Boon books only exhibit a certain type of hero? It came to me after reading an interesting post at Romancing the Blog, ‘Let’s hear it for the blonds’:

http://www.romancingtheblog.com/blog/2007/05/10/let%e2%80%99s-hear-it-for-the-blonds/

Basically, the writer of the blog, Alyssa Hurzeler, is asking why we don’t often get to read about the blond hero? It got me thinking she’s got a point. Most of the Harlequin Mills and Boon heroes I read about are tall, dark and a little arrogant, like modern day Mr. Darcys.

Currently we have titles like:

* The Greek Tycoon’s Virgin Mistress

* The Sicilian’s Hot Revenge

* Kept by the Spanish Billionaire

All Mediterranean men, all in positions of power.

We never get to hear titles such as:

* Seduced by the Swede

* Bought for the Dutchman’s Bed

* In the Arms of the Austrian

Or what about the books where the hero’s profession is prominent:

* The Italian Doctor’s Perfect Family

* The Soldier’s Seduction

* The Runaway and the Cattleman

* The Bodyguard Contract

We never get to see titles like:

* The Dane’s Dysfunctional Family

* The Prodigal Plumber

* Swept off her feet by the Dustbin man

* The Runaway and the Bricklayer

Of course, you’ve gathered by now that the alternative titles I’ve suggested are very much tongue-in-cheek!

But why do almost all the British Harlequin Mills and Boon books at the moment only appear to have Mediterranean heroes?

British author, Betty Neels, broke the mould with her Dutch heroes. [Betty was a nurse who married a Dutch doctor]. But even when Betty’s books were in print they didn’t mention anything about a Dutchman in the title. They were usually titles like:

Sister Peters in Amsterdam or Nurse in Holland, but more frequently, her books would have titles like A Christmas to Remember or The Promise of Happiness. You’d have to peek inside to discover the Dutch connection

Sadly, Betty died in 2001, and although she broke the mould herself with her writing, I think she was pretty unique. All the books I’ve read that were written by her, have only included the heroine’s point of view and yet they seem to work. Nowadays, we usually get the hero’s point of view as well. Her books are still in print today, a testament to how loved as an author she was and still is. See here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Betty_Neels

So, what do you think? Would you like to see a different sort of hero in a Harlequin Mills and Boon book, or are you more than happy with Modern day, Mediterranean Mr. Darcys? And if you would like to read about a different sort of hero for a change, what sort would he be?

Applying 'The Secret' to My Life

I've been reading the book, The Secret, this week and have to admit it's fascinating me. Basically, it talks about the Law of Attraction and how what we think is attracted to us. For example, if you keep thinking [which I have done in the past], I am overweight, then that is what you are going to attract -- those extra pounds. If, on the other hand, your thoughts are towards being happy and healthy, then you will attract a positive healthy lifestyle and figure.

Now I got to wondering if this would work for me, then I realised it already has worked for me in some areas without me even being aware of it.

In 1996, I attended an open day at the local college and although I was seeking a counselling course, I ended up side tracked and getting signed up for the diploma in childhood studies instead. I ended up getting great marks for my assignments, but I wasn't enjoying it. I became such a perfectionist, redoing and doing assignments that I had no time left for myself. I had burnt myself out and left after a year.

I was a little aimless for a couple of years, until I attended a workshop held by Gael Lindenfield, author of, The Positive Woman. Gael spoke about the importance of goal setting, not just for years in the future, but to set weekly, monthly and yearly goals as well. I came out of the meeting truly inspired. I opened a notepad and wrote the three things I most desired:

* To have a new friend

* To have a new hobby

* To train as a counsellor

The new friend came into my life very quickly. She was interested in tracing her family tree and we both went to meeting together and attended research offices. It opened a whole, new world for me. So I had the new friend and a new hobby.

Then...

In 1998, I decided that I would train to become a counsellor and not get side tracked like I had at the local college! I attended an induction meeting in the town and I met a woman who told me she wanted to train as a counsellor because she worked for a cancer charity. At that particular time I hadn't even heard of the charity, but I remember thinking, I'd love to work there!

I was selected for an interview to get on the counselling course, but unfortunately broke my big toe and ended up in a plaster cast. After that, everything went wrong. I couldn't attend as it was taking place at the top of a large flight of steep stairs. Then I was told I would be interviewed over the telephone, but no one rang me. So I left it at that, thinking I was never meant to become a counsellor.

Fast forward, a year. I met the same lady at a Woman's Day at my local health centre. She told me she had taken the course and passed and asked what had happened to me. When I explained she told me that they were interviewing again. So I applied and got accepted.

I ended up achieving The Intermediate Certificate in Counselling followed by The Diploma in Counselling.

I was interviewed by a mental health charity and got a job, coincidentally working at the cancer centre only seeing mental health clients. The mental health charity had taken over the cancer charity to keep it running.

Anyhow, to cut a long story short, both charities parted ways and I ended up being offered a position as a counsellor at the cancer charity where I still work today, some three years on. The very cancer centre I had fancied working at when I spoke to that lady back in 1998!

Keep posted for how 'The Secret' applied to my writing life without me realising it as well!

George Harrison - Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth)

One of my all time favourite songs!

Nice Review

I got a nice review for A Taste of Honey from ecataromance although the reviewer makes it sound as if Fran's job as a honey trapper is to sleep with men. It's not. She tests out their fidelity by seeing if they will chat her up or not. The family restaurant is called, The Vine Tree, not The Tree Vines as it says in the review. Apart from those minor quibbles the rest is great:

	In order to raise some money to invest in the family business, Fran Santini works two jobs. The first is as a waitress in the family restaurant, with two brothers, Anthony and Mario. Her second job is as a honey trapper, an available woman that tries to get into a specific man's pants to prove that he cheats on his wife. However, when she messes up her latest case, mistaking the man she is suppose to honey trap with a total stranger, she is certain she will have to let her second job go. She is just not meant to be a honey trapper. Travis O'Connell is a desperate man. He needs a job rather badly because he would like to go back to see his mom in Ireland and he would also like to buy a house where his dog Buster will be able to run as he wants. But to do so, he has to get the job in the family owned business where he has a job interview. On his way there, he gets hit on by a crazy woman, with beautiful legs, who thinks he is somebody else. Fast forward a little bit. Imagine Travis’s surprise when, after being hired at The Tree Vines, he realizes that the boss's daughter is… the woman he thinks is a prostitute! There are many subplots to A Taste of Honey which makes this story funny and entertaining! The secondary characters are also interesting and amusing. Ms Rees has written a witty, light and pleasurable read!
Reviewer	Anne Chaput
Posted	April 15, 2007

What's your favourite romance movie?

For me, it has to be, without a question of a doubt, Brief Encounter. This movie isn’t even a modern one. It was released in 1945 and directed by David Lean, starring fine English actors, Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard.
Plot:

Laura Jessen, a married woman, takes a trip into Milford every Thursday. She comes from a middle-class background and on this particular day, shops then goes to the movies. It appears to be her weekly treat.

One Thursday, as she is waiting for her train [it was steam back then of course], a piece of grit blows into her eye and she encounters the debonair doctor, Alec Harvey, who kindly removes it for her.

She thinks no more of their encounter, but literally bumps into him again on one of her trips when he shares her table at a restaurant. They end up going to the cinema together and their romance flourishes.

She knows this is wrong and both of them are torn.

It’s not a happy ending for either of them really, but on the other hand, they end up doing the right thing for the sake of their respective families.

I love this movie as it’s so atmospheric. The film was shot during the winter months when the days were short and the nights were long. Images like the couple’s shadow [as they are in a passionate clinch] reflected on the brick walls of the underground tunnels leading to the station and the steam from the trains provides a setting that becomes a character in the movie itself.

The viewer can practically sense the moment Laura falls for Alec when they are chatting at the station cafe about his research work. The way she searches his face with her eyes.

There is no sex in this film, although it almost happens when he takes her back to his friend’s apartment, but they are disturbed. It is then, Laura becomes aware of the sordiness, not of their love, but of the postion they are both in sneaking around.

I never get fed up of this film, I’ve watched it many times and still see something new in it each time.

View movie trailer here:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=Il8B6E9FzSE

View clip from Brief Encounter here [spoiler warning — contains end of film] :

http://youtube.com/watch?v=hubyFqSUaGA&mode=related&search=

So, the question I’m asking is, what’s your favourite romance movie and why?

New cover art for: It Happened One Summer

Here's my new cover art for It Happened One Summer which is due for release by The Wild Rose Press this summer.

I love it!

A Taste of Honey is out today!

**Purchase book here**
http://tinyurl.com/2vth8t

My romantic comedy, A Taste of Honey, is released by Samhain Publishing today. You can purchase it in e-book format here:

It will be released as a paperback next February and will be available from Borders/Waldenbooks and Amazon online.

An excerpt from

A Taste of Honey

Copyright © 2007 Lynette Rees

All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

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.