A bit of a buzz for me!

I was coming home from work this evening, waiting for a connecting bus at the bus station, when a lady from the village where I live shouted, "You've been on my mind this week!" I turned around expecting that she was speaking to someone behind me, but there was no one there.

Oh dear, I thought, what have I done?

"I couldn't remember your surname," she said enthusiastically, "I want to get your books from the library!"

So of course, I gave her the correct spelling of my full name and both books. Now you might think, what's the point of that because I'm not going to earn anything from it, but I think libraries are a good thing. I've taken out books by new authors and then gone on to purchase further copies of their books.

I know there are authors who don't like having their books sold in charity shops or passed around for others to read, but I'm not one of those. To be honest, I'm flattered when I'm told someone has enjoyed one of my books so much they've passed it on to their next door neighbour or posted it their daughter-in-law who lives on the other side of the world. As far as I'm concerned, my name is getting out there.

So, I hope that lady from the village manages to get both copies of my books and if she enjoys them, she'll tell others. After all, wasn't it Donald Maas that said: "It's not reviews that sell books but word-of-mouth."

Inspiration for A Taste of Honey

A reader asked me the other day where I got my inspiration from for my latest release, A Taste of Honey.

The concept came to me initially from a newspaper article I read in one of the national dailies, here in the UK. It was about a woman who worked for a private detective agency as a honey trapper. Now if you don't already know, a honey trapper is a woman who sets up men on behalf of their partners to see if they are capable of cheating or not.

Now I got to thinking: What would happen if one of these so-called honey trappers accidentally set up the wrong guy? And so, a germ of an idea for 'A Taste of Honey', my romantic comedy was born.

I knew that I wanted the hero, Travis O'Connell, to be a little different from the usual male Alpha hero with the bulging biceps and rippling six pack. For a start he's Irish and I've never written about an Irish man before, but I know some Irish people and I've read a lot of works by Irish author, Edna O'Brien. That aside, it's one of the accents I do best, but that would be debatable in some quarters!

Travis is a free spirit. He doesn't like to feel hemmed in. That's probably why he lives on a delapitated caravan park where his only friends are a stray dog named, Buster, and a neighbour called, Marge. Marge's lorry driving hubby ran off with a young bimbo from the bingo hall some years back leaving her to look after her brood of kids. 'The old woman who lived in a shoe' would be a good analogy for Marge.

In my eyes, I see her as someone looking and acting like, Janet Street Porter.

Someone who's forthright with her tongue, but beneath that steely exterior beats a heart of gold.

Fran Santini, I knew would be someone who loves life. She wouldn't be one of those skinny size zero women who loves to nibble on a lettuce leaf to keep her looks in check. Fran enjoys her food and working at the family Italian restaurant, she needs to. Of course, totally complicating matters is the fact that as a respectable Catholic girl, she moonlights as a honey trapper for The Peace of Mind Agency. If Mamma and Papa, and her brothers come to that, ever find out, there will be hell to pay.

I got the idea for the two elderly, cantankerous sisters at the restaurant from watching two old women who dine in the same hotel restaurant, where my mother and myself go from time to time. They always seem to order the same food!

I developed the character of Ronald Santini, restaurant owner and Fran's Papa, from an Italian restaurant I visited in Cardiff. As soon as my mother and myself went in through the door, the man I based him on was throwing his hands in mid air and shouting: "Beautiful ladies, please sit here." He made such a fuss over us that we ended up ordering a lot of food and wine and got quite a hefty bill because of it. Oh well, you live and learn. I would definitely return to that restaurant but only for special occasions.

So, there we have it, that's how my baby, A Taste of Honey was born!

COMPETITION: WIN A COPY OF A TASTE OF HONEY

I'm running a competition for you to win a free paperback copy of my romantic comedy, A Taste of Honey.

Here is the blurb:

Honey is not far from the sting.

Fran Santini has a secret she keeps from her family. During the day, she works as a waitress, but at night, she is a honey trapper for the Peace of Mind Agency, working for women who suspect their partners are cheating.

Travis O’Connell is minding his own business, enjoying a pint of Guinness at his local pub, when he is accosted by Fran who believes he is her intended target. After all, he has a goatee just as his “wife” described.

Fran, a hopeless honey trapper, fails to realize she has set up the wrong guy. What’s more, when the penny finally drops, she is forced into a compromising situation, begging the question: can Fran’s job stay a secret for much longer?

At the risk of incurring the wrath of Fran’s brother, Antonio, Travis finds himself attracted to sultry Fran Santini. Will the secret draw the couple together or drive them apart?

All you have to do is post here at my blog by telling me what your favourite romance novel is and why. Oh and don't forget to leave your e-mail address so I can contact you if you win. If you're uncomfortable about leaving your contact details here, then please also send a copy of your post here along with your e-mail address to:

peaceful_writer@yahoo.com

Lynette

Picture Board: A Spoonful of Sugar

This is Suzie's shop, All Things Nice. She creates special occasion cakes for weddings, birthdays and anniversaries.


I imagine Antonio Santini to look like the actor Mark Bannerman. This is probably subconsciously because the character of Antonio is a chef at The Vine Tree restaurant, which also featured in A Taste of Honey and Mark worked in his family's Italian restaurant in Eastenders.


Suzie Frampton, I pictures as a larger than life character. She's not a super skinny girl, but a well rounded size 16 wh enjoys her food and life!

The galley for WATCHING YOU

I received the galley this morning to check over for my latest book, Watching You. I'm really excited about it as it's my darkest novel yet. I go into the mind of a serial killer who is out there watching the heroine -- hence the title.

In my three published novels so far, I have only used the hero and heroine's point of view but in this book I also use the villain's pov which was interesting. This allowed me to be as nasty and evil as I could possibly be! I think authors put a little of themselves into their novels often without realising it, but I promise you I am not about to go around stalking or killing anyone.

A Taste of Honey goes into 801 Borders stores at the end of the month. I'm really over the moon about that!

A cautionary tale for authors

I was surfing the web last night when I ended up at the New York Times website and an article written about the recent so-called plagiarism by a well-known romance author, Cassie Edwards. Apparently, someone had posted a blog about this in January when they had discovered upon feeding some of Ms. Edwards text from her novels into Google, she had blatantly lifted text from the works of three different novels. If you want to read on further about this, here are the links:

A Romance Novelist is Accused of Copying

First Article about issue at Smart Bitches Blog

The PDF Document at Smart Bitches Blog that indicates the plagiarism

When I read the above my eyes widened with surprise that a well-known author of Ms. Edwards standing in the romance community and of course, the writing world, would do such a thing.

She was questioned about this issue but apparently made out it was 'historical research' and she had no idea what she was doing was wrong. Now come on, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to realise that if you lift someone's work almost word for word that you need to attribute it to the source. At least that's what I was taught in college. We used quotes and references. And if someone researches they don't normally write word for word.

I had to carry out research for a recent historical romance I've written. I just read widely on the subject and wrote things in my own words. In any case, most of the topics I researched were written by professors and the like and their writing voices would have sounded totally out of place with my own. And I definitely didn't go taking my research from other similar works of fiction. The books I used were local history books.

So far, Ms. Edwards publishers and the Romance Writers of America [she used to be a member] aren't committing themselves to saying she actually plagiarised stuff. Yet a magazine journalist has even found his own words in one of her books when he wrote about Meer cats.

This is a cautionary tale for authors. Big Brother is out there, watching and waiting, and this time he has a name -- Google!

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!

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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!!!