AND NOW FOR A HISTORY LESSON...

My guest this week is HQN author Nicola Cornick who lit up Times Square earlier this year with UNMASKED.

Nicola talks about our first meeting below, but I remember it vividly. It was the second international "Author Day" held by Harlequin and Mills and Boon in London. there were authors from all over the world attending and having met my editor I was looking around for a friendly face and saw Nicola standing on her own. I introduced myself and asked her what she wrote and that's when she told me she'd just sold her first book. Now she's a star and I'm delighted to welcome her here to tell you about a new eBook project just launched by Harlequin.

Over to you, Nicola!

Thank you so much for inviting me to blog today, Liz, and many congratulations on your fabulous fifty books! I’ve just been re-reading your short story The Temp and the Tycoon, re-issued as part of the Mills & Boon Centenary celebrations, and I’ve been loving it as much this time round as when it was first in print!

I’ve never forgotten when I first met Liz – it was at an author lunch and I hadn’t even been published at that point. Mills & Boon had just signed me up as a brand new author and I was totally over-awed to be meeting in person so many writers whose books I had on my keeper shelves at home! Actually I was terrified – and Liz took me under her wing and I have never forgotten her kindness.

Since that moment eleven years ago I’ve written 25 books for Mills & Boon and this month sees the publication of my latest Regency novella The Unmasking of Lady Loveless, a historical short story that is very hot, sweet and sexy! The Unmasking of Lady Loveless is one of the launch titles for Harlequin Historicals new e-book programme. It is set in the same fictional Yorkshire village, Peacock Oak, that I used for the background for my July HQN release Unmasked and also features some of the same characters. I wanted to write a Christmas story and the idea of the beautiful Yorkshire countryside under the snow seemed the perfect setting!

Here is the beginning of the story, slightly censored because this is a very sexy book indeed:

When Lord Alexander Beaumont entered Whites that night the entire room fell silent. No man would meet his eyes; their gazes slid away to study the pattern on the carpet or the brandy in their glasses. Throats were cleared, cuffs inspected with startling intensity.

“Gentlemen?” He raised one quizzical dark brow. “Would anyone care to enlighten me as to what is wrong?”

There was silence.

“Charles?” He prompted.

“Devil take it, Alex,” his friend Charles Wheeler complained, “I knew you would ask me.”

“That’s what friends are for, Charles,” Alex smoothly. “Well?”

Charles stood up. He loosened his neck cloth, palpably ill at ease. “Don’t know where to start, old fellow.”

“Try the beginning,” Alex advised.

“Good luck, Charlie,” someone said, sotto voce.

“It’s Lady Melicent,” Wheeler blurted out. “Your wife.”

His wife.

No one ever spoke to Lord Alexander Robert Jon Beaumont about his wife.

“Thank you, Charles,” Alex said. “We may have been apart for a couple of years now, but I am still aware of whom Melicent is.”

Wheeler winced. Several men drew in their breath in sympathy.

“She’s… She’s written a book,” Wheeler said. “Several books. This is the most recent.” He grabbed a slim tome from the hands of a man at a nearby table.

"Steady on, Charlie,” the man protested. “I was enjoying that!”

“Bentley…” Wheeler said in a warning tone. The man’s eyes flickered to Alex’s hard face and he fell silent.

“The Adventures of a Woman of Pleasure by Lady Loveless,” Alex read aloud the gold lettering aloud. He flicked open the book:

“Being naked kindled so great a rapture in her that she lay in wanton pleasure waiting for him to-”

A great harrumphing and clearing of throats followed. Alex closed the book softly and looked at his friend. “You are claiming that Melicent, my wife, is this Lady … Loveless?”

“Yes! Don’t call me out,” Wheeler added, as Alex took a purposeful step towards him, murder in his eyes. “Bentley bribed the publisher and found out that the manuscripts are sent from someone called Mrs Durham, from Peacock Oak in Yorkshire…” He made a pleading gesture. “You know that was Lady Melicent’s maiden name and that she resides there now.” He shook his head. “She has to be stopped, Alex. She bases the characters in her books on members of the Ton and they are too accurately portrayed for comfort.” He gestured to the Bentley again. “Will’s betrothal to Miss Flynn was ruined because there is a scene in the book where a character called Bill Gentley ravishes an actress in a box at the theatre during a performance!”

“We all know that happened,” Alex said dryly.

“That isn’t the point!” Bentley piped up.

“Bentley lost an heiress worth sixty thousand,” Wheeler said. “Lady Loveless’s sources are impeccable. Which is why she has to be stopped.”

Alex tapped the book thoughtfully against the palm of his hand. “She will be.”

“What are you going to do?” Wheeler asked.

“I am going to Yorkshire,” Alex said. He smiled at the look of horror on his friend’s face. “No need to fear, Charles, it is the North of England, not the North Pole.”

“Yorkshire in winter,” Wheeler spluttered.

“Yes,” Alex said, “and I will take this with me.” He raised the book and the candlelight gleamed on the golden lettered name, Lady Loveless, on the cover. “It will prove useful… for research purposes.”

“Devil take it, Alex,” Bentley called, “I was reading that!” But he spoke to thin air.

To win a copy of The Unmasking of Lady Loveless Undone e-book, email me at ncornick@madasafish.com (including your full name and address) to tell me the answer to the following question:

What is the name of the book that Lady Loveless has written?

I’ll put the answers in a hat and pick out a winner next week!

* * *

Whew! Thanks, Nicola!

If, like me, you can't wait to read on, you can download the eBook here

And for those of us who love to hold a book in the hand, you can buy Regency Christmas Weddings here or from your favourite UK bookstore in November.

A REGENCY ROMP...

I first met Joanna Maitland -- as I have so many authors who've been my guests here this year -- via the internet as a newly published author. And then, delightfully, I discovered that she was sitting next to me at an author lunch.

Since then we've shared many memorable lunches and a lot of fun and I'm delighted that she's found time from her incredibly busy life to drop by and share in the cyber celebrations for my 50th book.

Joanna, whose work has been shortlisted for the RNA's Romance prize, writes delightful Regency romances and His Cavalry Lady promises to be another wonderful read. I'll leave Joanne to tell you all about it...

I’m delighted to be blogging here today. Thank you so much for inviting me, Liz, and congratulations on producing 50 of your wonderful stories. I don’t have quite all of them, but I do have a fair number on my keeper shelf. They’re exactly the kind of stories I return to, again and again, when I need a bit of escapist me-time. A pot of tea, a Liz Fielding story, and a lounger in the garden — what more could a woman want? Well, yes, I agree some sunshine would make it perfect, but we’d better not talk about that this summer, had we?

It’s a really exciting time in my writing life at the moment. I’m just about to finish the third in a trilogy of Regencies set in the period just before the battle of Waterloo. The stories roam all over Europe, and beyond, following the twists and turns in the lives and loves of the Aikenhead family of spies — Dominic Aikenhead, Duke of Calder, Lord Leo Aikenhead, and Lord Jack Aikenhead. The trilogy is called The Aikenhead Honours after the code-name of their spying band. The stories are set in some of my favourite locations, like St Petersburg in Russia, Venice in Italy, Vienna in Austria, and Lyons and Paris in France. I love the fabulous locations, and I loved the fact that I was able to fill these stories with lots of intrigue and danger, as well as romance and passion.

The first of the trilogy, His Cavalry Lady, is in the shops now in the UK (and will be published next spring in the USA). Books 2 and 3 will be published in late spring/early summer next year, in both markets.

Here’s an extract from His Cavalry Lady to whet your appetite.

Boulogne, June 1814

It was the smell that woke him.

For fully three seconds, Dominic lay quite still in the Lion d’Or’s best bed, trying to make sense of the strange messages tumbling into his brain. Dark. Silence. Smoke? Fire!

He flung himself out of bed. Light! He needed light! And where the devil were his breeches?

A terrified neighing ripped through the pre-dawn silence. Then a whoosh, as if a giant were sucking in a monstrous breath. Followed by red, hellish light.

The smoke had turned to flames. The Lion d’Or’s stables must be on fire!

Dominic threw wide the half-open window, stuck his head out and yelled at the top of his voice, ‘Au feu! Au feu!’ It was surely loud enough to wake even drunken grooms.

He dragged on his breeches and crammed his feet into boots. A voice rang out below. At last! Then more voices. A woman’s despairing wail. And the ominous crackle of the fire taking hold in dry straw and ancient timbers.

Dominic took the stairs three at a time. In the yard, the silence was turning into utter chaos. Yelling, cursing men milling around in the eerie light. No one fetching water. No one saving the horses.

He grabbed the nearest groom by the shoulder. ‘Get to the pump,’ he ordered in crisp French. ‘Start filling buckets. And you—’ he seized another by his flapping shirt ‘—rouse all the men from the house. Get them into a line to pass the buckets. You two. Don’t stand there gawping. Start getting the horses out.’

In the space of half a minute, Dominic had turned the commotion into the beginnings of order. The terrified horses were being led to safety. Water was being brought. But the flames had a head start. And they were winning.

The front part of the stables and one side of the doorway were ablaze. One panicked horse was refusing to be led through. It was fighting against the halter, rearing, eyes rolling, hooves flailing. With a cry of pain, the groom dropped to the ground. The horse fled back into the stables.

Dominic lunged forward, hefted the unconscious groom over his shoulder and raced across the yard to the inn. By the door, a maidservant stood motionless, wide-eyed with fear. ‘You, girl.’ He laid the boy ungently at her feet. ‘Make yourself useful. Look to his hurts.’ He did not wait to see whether she obeyed. He had to help save the horses. Only one other man left to do that. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

The smoke was now so thick that it was difficult to see. And to breathe. Dominic looked around for something to use as a mask over his face. If only he had thrown on a shirt. But he had nothing. He would have to continue as he was. Taking a deep breath of the cooler air in the yard, he plunged into the hell of the burning stables.

Still at least half a dozen terrified horses to save. Possibly more. He could barely make out the back of the stable. It was full of smoke, though not yet ablaze. But he could hear the sounds of hooves thundering against stall boards. At least some of the horses must still be tethered. He raced to the back of the building, keeping as low as he could, to avoid the choking smoke. Let the groom deal with the horses nearer the door.

Like a ghostly apparition, a slim shape in grubby white emerged from the swirling smoke, leading a horse. No more than a boy, from the little Dominic could see, and dressed only in a bedgown and boots. But a boy who knew horses, for he had covered the animal’s eyes to quiet it. ‘Well done, lad,’ Dominic gasped as they passed. No reply. The boy had his mind on his task. Just as Dominic must.

It was taking too many precious minutes to rescue the horses. All the time, the fire was engulfing more of the building. Yet the boy in the bedgown was fearless, always going back into the most dangerous area of the stable. He had a way with the terrified beasts, too. More than once, Dominic fancied he heard the lad’s voice, murmuring strong and low, urging the animal towards the flaming doorway. He had even started to cover the horses’ nostrils against the acrid smoke. Part of Dominic’s brain registered that he would find the lad after this was all over, and reward him for his bravery. He would have been proud to have such a boy in his own service.

Out in the yard again, Dominic caught a dripping cloth tossed to him by one of the inn servants. Gratefully, he covered his head, hoping that the boy had done the same. With this, there ought to be a chance of rescuing the remaining animals. Only a few more to bring out now. He ran back into the thickening smoke.

He found himself struggling with the tether of one of the last horses. The straining beast had pulled it tight in the iron ring. Its thrashing hooves were threatening to crack Dominic’s head open. If only he had a knife. Damnation! The rope refused come free. At this rate, they would both burn!

A strong, lean hand appeared out of the smoke holding a knife. Bless the boy! A single slash cut the rope. Then the hand disappeared again. No time to say a word of thanks. The horse, suddenly freed, reared up to its full height with a loud and terrified whinny. Dominic ducked under the deadly hooves and grabbed the trailing rope, forcing the animal down. He had to get this horse out. The fire was really taking hold now. Soon the stable roof would be aflame. There would be no more rescues then.

At last, Dominic managed to coax the horse through the stable doorway. Someone had taken an axe to the blazing wood so that the gap was wider and the flames were less fierce. The broken, smouldering timbers lay on the ground. Dominic thrust the rope into a waiting hand and raced back inside, ignoring the prick of sparks on the bare skin of his back and chest. He had tiny burns all over his body now. No doubt he would look as though he had a dose of smallpox when this was over. But he had to be sure that there were no more horses hidden by the smoke.

It seemed the lad in the bedgown had had the same thought. His eerie figure was just visible through the swirling darkness, searching among the stalls. Dominic ran towards the boy. ‘Is that all of them?’ he yelled, trying to make himself heard above the noise of the fire.

Before the boy could say a word, there was an ominous crack above their heads. Dominic caught a glimpse of a huge, flaming beam dropping towards them. Towards the boy! Dominic bridged the space between them with a single stride, grabbed the boy and thrust him aside. The beam hit the stable floor just inches from where they stood, showering them both with sparks. In seconds, the boy’s bedgown had caught alight.

Dominic made to tear it off him.

‘Non!’ It was a scream of anguish.

The boy must be a idiot. Surely he knew that it was better to be naked than to burn?

‘Non!’ the boy cried again, ripping the tail of his bedgown out of Dominic’s hands.

There was no time to argue. And only one solution. Dominic pushed the boy to the ground and covered him with his own body, rolling them both in the dirt to stop the sparks from taking hold.

And then he understood.

This was no boy. The lithe body straining against his own belonged to a fearless, and extraordinary, girl!

******************************

And for the competition? Well, Liz is one of those amazing writers who can find new avenues and new ways of writing while still giving us readers the buzz and the glow we expect from her stories. As far as I know, she was the first to write an HMB romance in the first person. I reckon it was a triumph, and it’s one of my all-time favourites. To win the competition, email the title of that mould-breaking book to liz@lizfielding.com The winner, drawn at random, will receive a signed copy of His Cavalry Lady.

With very best wishes from Joanna

GLADIATORS, VIKINGS...

...it's got to be Michelle Styles!

Michelle Styles, seen here at the Mills & Boon Centenary party with author Carol Townend and Harlequin President and Publisher, Donna Hayes, broke new ground for Mills & Boon Historical romance with her first book The Gladiator's Honour, a book about which the Smart Bitches blog said -- "Read this book, read this book..."

I couldn't agree more!

Michelle (in the red) -- can you see the wicked twinkle in her eye -- was the woman urging me to be outrageous with the butlers in the buff -- definitely someone to take along to a party!

When she isn't leading me astray, Michelle is busy writing and will shortly be celebrating a major milestone in her own publishing career, with the publication of her 10th book, Improverished Miss, Convenient Bride, to be published early next year, but she's here today to tell us about her new release, AN IMPULSIVE DEBUTANTE

The floor is yours, Michelle...

There is something indefinable about a Liz Fielding book. She has a sort of magic alchemy with her characters and always manages to create wonderfully sparkling romances, the sort of romances that make you feel better about the world. I always promise myself that I will take it slow. I will make this one last. A little bit a time, but every single time, I end up reading the book in one sitting. Once, memorably boiling the kettle dry. It is a truly wonderful thing that Liz has now reached her fifty book mark. Along the way, she has won many well deserved rewards, but mostly she has provided her readers with characters that linger and plots that fizz. And once you are in the world that she has created, you want to return time and time again.

Now I am supposed to say something about my upcoming release An Impulsive Debutante. And when Liz asked me to take part in her celebrations, I knew that I wanted to highlight this book, as it is a book that I had a lot of fun writing. The heroine, Lottie Charlton is one of my personal favourites. She started out as a minor and in many ways not very nice secondary character in A Christmas Wedding Wager, but my daughter became enamored of her and begged for her story. And basically to keep her quiet and to stop her from bringing the subject, I agreed. So with my editor’s reluctant approval (there were many hmmm’s, ah-ha’s and well’s in the conversation), I began. My daughter had sound instincts and I rapidly fell in love with Lottie’s indomitable spirit and her desire make lemonade out of the lemons that life through at her. She just possessed that certain something. Hopefully, readers will agree.


The following extract is from the first chapter, the hero, Tristan Dyvelston has encountered Lottie for the first time. He is visiting his parents’ grave and she has come to the churchyard partly to see if it is a good place to paint and partly to put in motion her most current scheme – attempting to get her cousin engaged to a local farmer.

A proposal?’ Tristan glanced over his shoulder, fully expecting to see some puffed up dandy or farmer advancing towards them. ‘Tell me where the unfortunate man is and I shall beat a hasty retreat.’

‘Not mine. My cousin’s.’

‘The one who is mistaken about graveyards.’ Tristan said, and struggled to keep his face straight. It made a change to speak about such things other than the state of Gortner Hall’s leaking roof, the fallow fields and the other ravages that his uncle wrecked on the estate.

‘That’s right.’ There was a sort of confidence about the woman, the sort that is easily destroyed later in life. ‘All Frances ever does is read Minerva Press novels and sigh about Mr Shepard’s fine eyes and his gentle manner. What is the good with sighing and not acting positively? She needed some help and advice.’
‘Which you have offered...unasked.’

She held up her hand and her body stilled, an intent expression crossed her face. ‘There, can you hear it?’

The sound of a faint shriek wafted on the breeze. Tristan lifted an eyebrow. ‘It sounds as if someone is strangling a cat. Is this something you are concerned about? Should I investigate?’

‘My cousin Frances, actually. She is busy being rescued from the Cruel Sykes burn.’ She tilted her head, listening and then gave a decided nod. The bow of her mouth tilted upwards. ‘Definitely Cousin Frances. We practiced the shriek a dozen times and she still managed to get it wrong. She needed to gently shriek, and to grab his arm but not to claw it. I do hope she had not pulled him in. That would be insupportable. Truly insupportable.’

‘All this is in aid of?’

‘Her forthcoming marriage to Mr Kent Shepard.’

The woman drew a breath and Tristan noticed the agreeable manner in which she filled out her gingham bodice. But he knew she was also well aware of the picture she created. A minx who should be left alone. Trouble. He would make his excuses and depart before he became ensnared in any of her ill-considered schemes.
‘Cousin Frances has to get engaged. She simply has to. Everything in my life depends on it.’

‘Why should it matter to you?’ His curiosity overcame him.
‘I was unjustly banished.’ The woman wrinkled her nose. ‘It was hardly my fault that Miss Emma Harrison kissed Jack Stanton in a sleigh in full view of any passing stranger.’

‘Jack Stanton is well able to look after himself.’ Tristan gave a laugh. His impression had been correct. She was the sort of woman to stay away from. Trouble with a capital T. ‘I hope your friend was not too inconvenienced, but she picked the wrong man to kiss. Jack is a good friend of mine and not given to observing the niceties of society.’

‘Do you?’

‘When the occasion demands, I was born a gentleman. But Jack...is immune to such stratagems. It is amazing the lengths some women will go to.’

‘It all ended happily as they were married, just before Christmas.’ Her eyes blazed as she drew herself up to her full height. ‘You obviously do not know your friends as well you think you do.’

‘I have been travelling on the Continent. But if it ended happily, why were you banished?’

‘My brother Henry was furious. He turned a sort of mottle purple and sent me out here to Aunt Alice until I could learn to keep my mouth quiet. Lottie, he said, you have no more sense than a gnat which was a severely unkind thing to say.’

‘And have you? Learnt to keep your mouth quiet?’


My question to help Liz celebrate is: As I know that Liz has written several books with secondary characters as heroes or heroines, is there a Liz Fielding secondary that still needs her story and why? The prize on offer is a copy of A Christmas Wedding Wager and a copy of An Impulsive Debutante.

Thanks, Michelle -- it sounds fabulous. And if you want to know more, you can browse the book here...

THE BATTLE WITH BLOGGER...

... appears to have been won. I finally downloaded Firefox and now I have everything back in place, although cutting and pasting is a bit of a hit and miss affair . Badly handled update, Blogger... Could do better.

Anyway, the good news is that I can now introduce you to LOUISE ALLEN, this week's guest in the great 50th book party. I first met Louise several years ago at a Mills & Boon Author lunch and it's a real pleasure to invite her along to share a glass of cyber bubbly and tell us about her great new Regency romp, The Shocking Lord Standon
Louise...

Thank you so much for the invitation Liz! I’ll be celebrating my 25th book at Christmas and I’m totally in awe of your fantastic record of 50 titles, all packing so much emotional punch and delivering such consistent entertainment.

I’ve just finished writing the sixth and final book in my series for Harlequin Mills & Boon about a group of cousins - Those Scandalous Ravenhursts. (My dear husband refers to it as the Sexology). I thought a trio of linked family books might be fun – but I reckoned without the Ravenhursts and it grew to six before I knew what was happening.

I first met them when Lord Sebastian Ravenhurst invited himself into No Place For a Lady and made a spirited attempt to take over, the way heroes do. Unfortunately it wasn’t his book, so he had to be reined in with the promise of a love story of his own. (The Dangerous Mr Ryder and The Outrageous Lady Felsham came out earlier this year.)

Number three – The Shocking Lord Standon - is out in September. Gareth Morant, Lord Standon, is a respectable and highly eligible bachelor, who finds himself almost trapped into marriage with childhood friend Lady Maude Templeton (heroine of number 5, due out next year). Neither of them want the match, so Gareth sets about becoming considerably less respectable – every father’s nightmare match for his daughter in fact. He needs a mistress to conduct a scandalous and very public liaison with, a woman who will vanish discreetly the moment he and Maude are safe. But where to find one?

In this extract governess Jessica Gifford has been abducted and imprisoned in a brothel. Luckily she has read any number of romantic adventure stories and knows just what to do -

In sensation novels, the sort governesses are supposed never to read and in fact devour by the shelf full, the beleaguered yet valiant heroine can pick a dungeon lock in seconds as she escapes from the wicked duke’s evil clutches. Her hands shaking, cold sweat standing out all over her, Jessica could only conclude that either wicked dukes employed inferior locksmiths to brothel keepers or the authors of the Minerva Press were sadly misinformed.

After five minutes she stood up in an attempt to relieve her cramped knees. ‘Open, you beastly thing,’ she said, almost weeping with frustration, and fetched the lock a thump with her clenched fist. With a click it did just that.

Jessica was out into the corridor before she could think. Opposite her a shadowy figure moved. She gave a yelp of fear and realised that it was her own reflection in a full length mirror. And she was stark naked.

Behind her the door swung to, the catch snicked closed. She could not go back, that was where they would come for her. Clothes. That was the priority.

She opened the first door that she came to and peered round the edge. Inside was a big bed and on it a welter of naked flesh. Gasping, Jessica made out six legs, two pairs of buttocks, a glimpse of hairy chest… How many people? Doing what? She shut the door, flattening herself instinctively into the recess. The participants in the orgy had appeared totally preoccupied, but even so, she did not think she had the courage to sneak in and steal clothing while that was going on.

Jessica drew in a deep breath and forced herself to plan. To assume the worst was a self-fulfilling prophesy. Her fate was sealed if she panicked. Steadier, she surveyed the corridor in which she found herself. Opposite was the door she had just escaped through, behind her the room with the orgy in progress. On either side were two more doors and then in both directions, the passage turned.

Which way to go? Her sense of direction had quite deserted her in the hectic few minutes when she had been bundled out of the carriage and up the stairs. Then, as she hesitated, her arms wrapped around her chilly ribs, the decision was made for her by the sound of a door opening and loud voices from out of sight to her right. Without hesitation Jessica fled around the other corner.

It might have been better, she realised in the second she thudded into a solid wall of male muscle, if she had been looking where she was going and not wildly back over her shoulder.

Her nose was buried in a shirt front, the crisp upper edge of a tailored waistcoat stuck into her chin and her shivering body was pressed against warm superfine and knitted silk. The immovable object stood quite still as the voices behind her grew louder.

Jessica tilted back her head and found she was squinting up past a chin that was already shadowed by an evening beard into amused grey eyes. One dark eyebrow rose. ‘Help,’ she whispered, her voice fled along with her hope. ‘Please help me.’

The Shocking Lord Standon is out in September on both the UK (Mills & Boon Historical) and in North America (Harlequin Historical), with two different covers. The North American one has the blue border, the UK one the pink dress. To win a signed copy of The Shocking Lord Standon, just tell me which cover you prefer and why. Good luck!

To find out more about the Ravenhursts, visit my website

WINNER!

Great news! Snookie has won the copy of Jennie Adam's THE BOSS'S UNCONVENTIONAL ASSISTANT! Snookie, the book is already on its way to you.

If you missed out this time, don't worry, there's loads more to come -- have you all visited my website for the chance to win an advance hardback copy of WEDDED IN A WHIRLWIND, btw? You've got until the end of the month.

And on Wednesday, Louise Allen will be here to tell us all about her latest Regency Romance -- you really won't want to miss that.

THANK YOU!

First a big thank you to Melissa James for being my guest over the weekend. And to everyone who responded to that terrific question about favourite storylines. You’ve given us all plenty to think about in your replies.

Bectoria and Snookie were both prize winners this week. Snookie, I have your address and I’ve already passed it on to Melissa. Bectoria, if you’ll contact me at liz @lizfielding.com with your street name and address, I’ll see that Melissa gets it asap.

Well, it has been an incredibly busy week following the announcement of the Romance Prize shortlist. Did you all go and check out the full list? As well as The Secret Life of Lady Gabriella, Fiona Harper has two books on the list, Kate Hardy is there with her fabulous Breakfast at Giovanni’s along with titles by Julie Cohen and Lucy Gordon. We’ll all be meeting up at the awards lunch in February and whoever wins it’ll be a cause for celebration, which remind me, I must book my seat on the train!

Also an interview with a journalist from The Observer about writing for Mills & Boon. It’s part of the M&B Centenary and will be in the Review section on Sunday 27 January.

This week my guest will be Elizabeth Rolls, who writes the most fabulous Regency romances. Check out her website and read the story of how she became hooked on Georgette Heyer while staying with a friend, wrote the book to unwind in the evenings and, seven months pregnant, she sold it. What a woman!

Her blog will be online on Thursday and she’ll be giving away a copy of her latest book A COMPROMISED LADY to one lucky winner, so do drop by over the weekend to chat with her.