Treasure is such a fun thing to write about but today I’m posting because it’s RJ Scott’s Birthday Treasure Hunt!

What you do is – you go from blog to blog, there’s a list, picking up clues and finding the answers then on September 3rd you enter the answers on RJs blog.

So, to save you time, here’s Clue Eight – RJ’s favourite season to write about.

Don’t forget to go to RJs blog to fill in the answer.

And now, just to pad the post out a bit, here’s a treasure related snippet from my pirate story On A Lee Shore, because all this talk of treasure has made me feel a bit nostalgic. Kit Penrose, ex-Royal Naval lieutenant, currently a very reluctant pirate, is doing his best to keep to the straight and narrow. Griffin, pirate captain, is determined to lead him astray:

By the time Ciervo was hull down and Kit left his perch to go in search of Griffin, the deck was covered in boxes, barrels, and chests with whooping pirates poring over and pawing through them. Kit picked his way through the mess and found Griffin standing in the shadow thrown by the quarterdeck and looking through a package of charts.

“Kit,” he said, by way of greeting. “Have you come to join in the fair and equal sharing of the spoils?”

“Hardly,” Kit said with a laugh. “And I warned Davy too, not to touch any of it. I might have assisted in sea robbery but I don’t have to profit by it!”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “Foolish boy,” he said. “What you have done today truly makes you a part of the crew. Does it not, Jago?”

“Oh, aye,” Jago said. He was seated on a sea chest with reales spilled about his feet. “And that ought to be marked somehow.”

“It should,” Griffin agreed, his broad grin making Kit feel uneasy. “In fact I have arranged a small ceremony.”

He nodded, and Kit barely had time to protest before many hands grabbed him and someone slung their arm around his neck.

“Hold you still now,” Protheroe said, laughter in his voice. “You’ve earned this.”

“What? No!” Kit struggled, but Protheroe’s forearm was tight across his throat, and he had no choice but to still and watch from the corner of his eye as Lewis dipped a sail needle in brandy, ignited it from a candle, then brought it and a cork close to Kit’s head.

“Don’t get any of that grease in it,” Saunders advised. “We don’t want his ear to rot off.”

“That’s a point,” Lewis said and swabbed around Kit’s ear with brandy.

“But I don’t want—” Kit swallowed the rest of the sentence at the bite of the needle. He glared at Griffin, who laughed at him until the job was done and they released him, an unaccustomed weight dragging at his damaged ear. A whooping cheer went up, partly derisive for they had marked him one of their own despite his wishes, and partly genuine good will.

“Very fine, Kit,” Griffin said, taking him by the shoulders and turning him to look at his adornment. “And we have the mate of that one should you be careless enough to lose it.”

Kit raised a hand to his ear, winced as Saunders slapped his wrist, and brought his fingers away bloody.

“Leave it alone, let it heal,” Saunders advised. “Griffin, Jago, it’s nearing sunset. Should we not be on our way?”

“No rush,” Jago said. “I vote we divvy up here. Make the most of having this fighting platform under our feet.”

Griffin shook his head. “That was not our agreement, Jago. Let it stand. We’ll away to Curacao to careen Garnet and strip this ship at our leisure. Lord knows the Santiago’s boats are more useful to our trade than she is. Come, let us be on our way.”

Jago stirred the silver coins with his boot, his eyes on the sky. “And I say we have no reason to be hasty,” he said. “At the very least let’s put some of the treasure on our own ships in case it begins to blow and we lose touch. Expenses—what do you call them—and we’ll have the proper division when we make port and can get something better than this rot gut sack.” He took another swig from the bottle in his hand and grimaced.

Kit stepped aside as the treasure was sorted and made safe, the quartermasters making two sets of notes and consulting with each other. They even came and looked at Kit’s earring, noting it down as “item, one earbob, gold and emerald—10 reales” which made his eyebrows climb a little.

“You didn’t think I would stint, did you?” Griffin said with a grin when Kit commented on it. “A laborer is worth his hire, and you have served me well in this.”

That brought Kit up short. “Hire,” he said. “I did not do this for hire.”

“Of course.” Griffin nodded and dropped his voice to a murmur. “But for the moment, in present company, let them think that you did. You and I will know better and later—when there is the time and opportunity—I will be happy to show you how very grateful I am.”

There on the deck of the Santiago, surrounded by hallooing pirates, Griffin lifted Kit’s grease-laden hair away from his newly pierced ear. Kit assumed that if anyone noticed they might have thought Griffin was looking at the earring. Only Kit could feel the stroke of fingers at the nape of his neck and the gentle pressure of Griffin’s thumb down his throat. A kiss, Kit decided, would feel even better.



I know that ebooks are real books too, but there’s something so nice about actually holding a paperback in your hands!

On tour!

So that lovely lady at Signal Boost Promotions is running a Blog Tour for me right now with a nice little Rafflecopter giveaway attached. The winner will get a paperback copy of the book and there may possibly be another special gift too.

Check out the list:

August 21 – Love Bytes
August 22 – The Way She Reads, BooksLaidBareBoys, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Nerdy Dirty and Flirty
August 23 – The Novel Approach
August 24 – Love That’s Out of This World
August 25 – MM Good Book Reviews
August 28 – Sinfully MM Romance
August 29 – Zipper Rippers, Sexy Erotic Xciting, Padme’s Library, Bayou Book Junkie, The Geekery Book Review, Louise Lyons
August 30 – Rainbow Gold Reviews
September 1 – Making It Happen
September 4 – Bayou Book Junkie
September 6 – Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
September 8 – Diverse Reader
September 11 – My Fiction Nook

Some of the posts are blog posts, some are reviews. I’m filled with my usual mix of curiosity and trepidation about what people will think!

Meantime, many thanks to Signal Boost!

Today I’m more than delighted to welcome my very good friend guide and mentor, Charlie Cochrane, who is celebrating the release of her latest Cambridge Fellows story – Lessons in Loving Thy Murderous Neighbour – by sharing some thoughts about how the technological progress of the 20th century opened up all kinds of exciting possibilities for novelists.

There’s also a giveaway so read on:

People say the world is changing fast nowadays, but there have been periods in the past where the same would be true. One innovation happens—the steam engine, the internet, powered flight—and it opens the gates for a flood of inventions or changes to lifestyle that utilise that new technologies. Imagine when cavemen invented the wheel and all the possibilities that opened. (I wonder if the older generation of cave people shook their heads, tutted and said, “It’ll never catch on.”?)

The late 19th and early 20th century saw many changes to both technology and society, and even the University of Cambridge and its colleges had to move with the march of time. In St John’s college, for example:

  • 1892 Electric light installed in hall, chapel and undergraduate reading room.
  • 1901 First Indian Oxbridge fellow elected (had to mention him as he was one of the inspirations behind my character Dr. Panesar.)
  • Also 1901 Telephone in the porters’ lodge!
  • 1911 Electric light installed in the rest of the college.
  • This may seem small beer to us, but gas/electric lighting had huge implications in terms of how buildings could be constructed. No longer did the layout have to make the most of natural light and no longer did readers have to squint over their books, struggling by the illumination of a candle or gaslight. The arrival of the telephone not only gave instant communication (assuming the person you wanted to talk to also possessed a connection, naturally) but would have been a boon to my gentlemen sleuths. No more waiting for a reply to a telegram, and having to accept its stilted format. Being able to hear the voice of someone miles away, to read into their intonation and words the subtle information that no abbreviated telegram or letter could convey. Making appointments to see people with an ease not available a generation before.

    Transport—the arrival of the internal combustion engine and man taking to the air—also changed life greatly, although maybe too late for the huge number of horses who were employed (and often died) in WWI. The horse drawn carriages of Jonty’s childhood have given way, at least on his driveway, to the automobile which doesn’t need stabling or grooming or feeding with hay. It also meant that he and Orlando had the freedom to go investigating at will locally, without relying on the train to get them there. And indulge in car chases, too, which adds excitement for their official biographer (me).

    I’m no Luddite, so I’m all for innovations that make a difference to people’s lives. People sometimes yearn for “the good old days” but would we really want to live in a time before antibiotics, heart bypass surgery, washing machines, equal rights and all the other things which make modern life great? However, modern technology makes things difficult for the writer. I have much more of a challenge producing a believable storyline for my contemporary series (Lindenshaw Mysteries) than I do for the Cambridge Fellows because I continually have to get around problems like, “Why doesn’t he just use his mobile to ring for help?” It’s much easier in the days when there was no CCTV, DNA profiling or internet databases.
    I wonder what Orlando would have made of those…


    Comment below for the chance to win an audio copy of Lessons in Love. One winner to be drawn from total comments from all blog tour stops.

    Other stuff:

    Biog: Because Charlie Cochrane couldn’t be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice—like managing a rugby team—she writes. Her mystery novels include the Edwardian era Cambridge Fellows series, and the contemporary Lindenshaw Mysteries. Multi-published, she has titles with Carina, Riptide, Lethe and Bold Strokes, among others.
    A member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Mystery People and International Thriller Writers Inc, Charlie regularly appears at literary festivals and at reader and author conferences with The Deadly Dames.

    Title: Lessons in Loving thy Murderous Neighbour (m/m mystery)

    Blurb: Jonty Stewart and Orlando Coppersmith like nothing more than being given a mystery to solve. But what happens when you have to defend your greatest enemy on a charge of murder?

    Buy links: Amazon US | Amazon UK


    Cambridge 1922
    “Owens? Owens?” Orlando Coppersmith’s voice sounded louder, and clearer, from his chair in the Senior Common Room at St Bride’s than it had ever sounded before. And with good cause.
    “Steady on, old man. We’re in enough of a state of shock without you making sufficient noise to wake the dead.” Jonty Stewart smiled at his friend’s uncharacteristic outburst. Although friendship would hardly be the most accurate way to describe their relationship. Even the description “lovers, companions, colleagues and partners in solving crime” didn’t quite cover the depth of the bond they’d build up in nigh on twenty years. If their hair bore the odd silver thread, their ardour hadn’t cooled.
    “Wake the dead or, harder still, wake some of the dons,” Dr. Panesar agreed, mischievously.
    “Good point, Dr. P.” Jonty sniggered. “Some of them give the impression they’ve been asleep since 1913.”
    A quick glance around the oak panelled room supported his assertion. St. Bride’s may have been one of the most forward looking of the Cambridge colleges, embracing the fact the year was 1922 rather than pretending it was still 1622, but some aspects of the university, including crusty old dons, seemed to be an immutable fixture.
    “In which case,” Orlando pointed out, “we’d have ten years of history to explain to them, much of it unpleasant, let alone this latest scandal. St. Bride’s men being asked to defend Owens. What is the world coming to?”

    A Conversation

    To celebrate the fact that we both have relatively new releases Julie Bozza suggested we have a bit of a chat about our work. Chatting is always fun and so is Julie, so I jumped at the chance. This is the result:

    An interview that turned into a conversation between Elin Gregory, author of The Bones of Our Fathers, and Julie Bozza, author of A Night with the Knight of the Burning Pestle.

    Experience and/or Research?

    Julie: Congratulations on your lovely new novel, The Bones of Our Fathers. I loved reading it and gaining an insight into an area of work that I’m unfamiliar with – though like most jobs it seems a mix of 5% excitement and 95% routine! I understand you were drawing on your own work experience. What was it like to write about something that is ‘everyday’ for you? Have you done that before, with this or any other job?

    Elin: Aww thank you so much, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I think we all put bits of our own experiences into our writing. Even with historicals there are certain constants. Dogs have fleas, horses will tread on your foot, cats don’t give two hoots whether you’re in 19th century Surrey or 1st century CE Jerusalem. But yes, museum work is mostly very much routine even though TV and films make it look very exciting. I blame Indiana Jones. For every day a museum curator has something wildly exciting to do they have a year where they have to fill in forms, follow policy, beg for money and try to stop the building, exhibits and collection from deteriorating. Writing about it was fun though. To be honest I did it as a complete change of pace from writing about historical matters that require huge amounts of research. I still had to do some research – finds of archaeological human remains have procedures – but not nearly as much as, say, finding out whether there was a local bus service in East Essex in 1925.

    How have you managed it? The Night with the Knight of the Burning Pestle rang very true to me. Have you ever trodden the boards?

    Elin: I wish I’d seen that

    Julie: Thank you kindly! I’m so happy and relieved to know it worked for you – because, no, I’ve never been an actor. Except for once in college when I played Jeeves, very badly, in a sketch written by my love interest at the time. My main problem as an actor is that I am way too self-conscious!

    However, I love TV, film and theatre, and I’m an utter fangirl about various actors, so I’ve thought a lot about what they do and how they do it. And I concluded a long while ago that actors and writers have much in common along the lines of character analysis and portrayal, and telling a story. Also, the whole behind-the-scenes stuff fascinates me, and I love how the productions are a real team effort. So, no real direct experience but instead lots of love, thought, love, reading, love and research – not to mention encouragement from my sister, who likes me writing about actors.

    Obviously Indiana Jones and my sister both have a lot to answer for!

    Location, Location, Location

    Julie: The Welsh countryside and the village way-of-life seemed absolutely key to your story. I feel it wouldn’t have played out quite the same in any other setting. Do you find the location is always a vital part of your novels?

    Elin: It has to be really. The location, in space and in time, gives you the options for what is and isn’t possible plotwise. My hero in the small Welsh border town can’t pop to the opera house any more than a medieval knight could pick up his iPhone to ask what time the joust starts tomorrow or my pirate hero could invite his boyfriend for Netflix and chill. What they do has to be realistic for the place or the period. Also, small communities tend to have their own way of dealing with things, whether it’s a village or the crew of a ship.
    You’ve handled this yourself as the contrast between The Apothecary’s Garden and Butterfly Hunter shows. Two utterly different locations that give the characters different stresses and responsibilities.

    Julie: Thank you! Yes, I’m really interested in the way that human beings and the environment shape each other – obviously not always in positive ways, alas, in the ‘real’ world. I don’t think it’s something I consciously plan ahead for other than choosing a general time and place, but it’s certainly something I enjoy exploring when writing.


    Julie: Do you have a ‘Muse’, or do you think that’s just a romantic way of viewing an intellectual/emotional process? How would you explain your Muse (or creative processes) to non-writerly people?

    Elin: I sort of do. I have a character – I call him Charlie – who donates different aspects of his personality to other characters from time to time. But mostly he chirps up in response to hearing or seeing something that might make a story. I suppose it might be more accurate to say that Charlie is the bit of my brain that says “Oooh what if …?” Charlie’s a lot braver than I am and suggests things I’m not prepared to write but he’s a load of fun to have around.

    Is your muse a help or a hindrance? For instance, is he much help with changes of pace between the romances like Butterfly Hunter and the edgy stuff like The Definitive Albert J Sterne? Do you have a different approach to plotting or does the plot grow organically out of the actions of the characters?

    Julie: Three cheers for Charlie! My Muse bears an uncanny resemblance to Ewan McGregor, which means he’s always entertaining and mostly inspirational, even when being contrary. He’s also very … adaptable. Flexible, even. LOL! Which partly answers your question.

    But the duller, more serious answer about the differences between Albert and Butterfly Hunter is more about how I’ve changed over the years. I started writing what became Albert about 25 years ago, back in the heyday of Silence of the Lambs. It grew over the years, but I never changed the story’s timeframe, as I liked the ‘low tech’ vibe. Poor Albert couldn’t even do a DNA test – something taken for granted in most crime dramas these days!
    Anyway, don’t let me head down that rabbit hole.

    Back then, I was way more into writing angst. I’ve mellowed over the decades, or maybe I’ve come to value different things. I’m not sure of the answer there … If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s that I’ve always been interested in “the power of love”. But perhaps I’m now writing about how that works towards good things, rather than how it can twist into bad things.

    Current Projects

    Julie: What are you working on now / next?

    Elin: I have more Pemberland books in the pipeline – Terry the barber’s book is half written and I have bits and pieces of 3 more – I’m a few thousand words into an Eleventh Hour sequel set in 1931 just as European politics was beginning to get really edgy and I’m doing research for other stories too. When I’ll get them written I have no idea. Even if I retired I have no doubt that I still wouldn’t get much time to myself. I so envy the people who seem to be able to write beautifully even though they are surrounded by their family.

    How about you? What are you working on – and when oh when will we have the sequel to The Apothecary’s Garden?

    Julie: LOL! I’ve been thinking about Hilary and Tom a lot lately, you’ll be glad to know. I did make a start on the sequel, but then put it on hold when I realised I wasn’t quite ready yet. There’s one more novel I have to write, and then I’ll see if I can get to Hilary and Tom’s little corner of Wiltshire.

    The novel I’m just about to launch into is a historical romance set in India. I want it to be my Last Hurrah with Manifold Press, as it feels like such a good fit with the Press’s ethos. I have been madly reading and researching, and feel rather daunted by what I’m taking on. But it’s an idea that has stuck with me for a couple of years now, and (as I’m sure you find, too) when the Muse is that doggedly persistent, it’s a mistake to turn away.

    To Conclude

    Julie: Thank you so much, Elin, for the conversation! It’s been a great deal of fun – and I’m looking forward to reading all the many wonderful stories you’re working on now.

    Elin: Thank you so much for chatting! Also grand news about the book with the Indian setting. Can’t wait to read that 🙂

    I was so very pleased to host Julie today. Please find below links to the details of her fantastic book and her social media sites.

    Dale is proud of how his acting career is progressing. Tonight, for instance, is the last night (at the beautiful Sam Wanamaker Playhouse) of a well-received run of Beaumont’s The Knight of the Burning Pestle, in which he plays Rafe. But his colleague Topher, who plays Jasper, seems to think something is missing in Dale’s life. They’re not really friends, and Dale sees little point in reprising the one night on which they were not-really-friends with benefits.

    However! Despite the distractions of performing this chaotic two-plays-within-a-play, Dale is plagued by the niggling doubts prompted by Topher. Dale might be better off paying attention, though – because maybe Francis Beaumont, writing over 400 years ago, already provided the answers to Dale’s dilemma.

    38,500 words/150 pages

    Available from Manifold Press

    Amazon US buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XXL37SV/
    Julie on Twitter: https://twitter.com/juliebozza
    Julie’s LIBRAtiger Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/libratigerbooks/
    Julie’s blog: http://juliebozza.com/

    This one is a bit edgy for me because it’s my first proper try at a contemporary story so I tried to write something I knew about – life in a small town – with a profession I knew a bit about – working in a small cash-strapped museum.

    It was sheer self indulgence to make the love interest a heavy plant operator because I do love the big machines. In the archaeological world those huge scary things can be used with considerable finesse. They are also appealing on their own account – all that power!

    It’s also an edgy release day because the book is supposed to be the first of a series set in the fictional town of Pemberland which, if it existed, would be just off the A465 and alongside the River Monnow about where Ewyas Harold is now.

    So, a big new project that’ll keep me going for a good few years, I should think. Book 2, Close Shave, is about half written!

    Available today from Manifold Press



    “The bones of our fathers cannot lie.”

    Malcolm Bright, brand new museum curator in a small Welsh Border town, is a little lonely until – acting as emergency archaeological consultant on a new housing development – he crosses the path of Rob Escley, aka Dirty Rob, who makes Mal’s earth move in more ways than one.

    Then Rob discovers something wonderful, and together they must combat greedy developers and a treasure hunter determined to get his hands on the find. Are desperate measures justified to save the bones of our fathers? Will Dirty Rob live up to his reputation? Do museum curators really do it meticulously?

    Answers must be found for the sake of Mal’s future, his happiness and his heart.

    Buy Links:

    Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B073JM29TD/
    Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073JM29TD/
    Kobo – https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-bones-of-our-fathers
    Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/733184

    book title

    Now available – a cracking action adventure from Lisa Worrall.

    Looking For Jesse


    Life is full of decisions and it’s the split-second ones that change your world forever.

    Nick Shepherd made such a decision on the day his son, Jesse, was taken from a Christmas market in Naperville. The woman looked normal and had a son of her own, and he was only going to be a minute. But that minute was all she needed. His son was gone.

    A year later, the task force is being downsized and they are no closer to finding Jesse than they were the day he disappeared. At his wits end, Nick is given a number and a name by the lead on the case.

    Ex-detective Frank Ford has issues, several of them. Two steps shy of a full-blown alcoholic, all he wants is to bury himself in the bottle. He’s doing a pretty good job of it, too, when Nick Shepherd asks for his help. Does Ford want to help? No. Is Ford going to help? Hell no. Until four words resonated deep within him.

    “She took my son!”


    Tapping the woman in front of them on the shoulder, Nick made an executive decision.
    “Excuse me,” he said as she turned around. “My son left his mitten at the seating area over there but I don’t want him to miss his turn. Would you mind watching him for a minute while I run over and find it?”
    The woman’s kindly brown eyes took in Jesse’s tear-soaked face and the length of the line then smiled. “Of course,” she replied. “But be quick, I think they’re rushing the kids through so they get in as many as they can before closing.”
    “Like there’s fire coming out of my as—sorry, butt—sorry.” Nick stumbled over the words but she only laughed and waved her hand.
    “Thanks,” Nick said gratefully and quickly hugged Jesse to him. “I’ll be right back, buddy, okay? You just stand here with this nice lady and I’ll be so quick you won’t even notice I’ve gone.”
    Jesse looked at him warily but the woman smiled and said, “He’ll be fine with me and Marcus, won’t you?” Jesse gave a hesitant nod and Nick hit the ground running.
    The mitten Gods must have been smiling down on him because he found it under the table where they’d been sitting almost immediately. He heaved a huge sigh of relief and dashed back to Santa’s Grotto, mitten held high like a victory torch so Jesse could see.
    Nick made good on his promise, he was back in just over a minute, if a little out of breath. Promising himself he’d tell Daisy to stop bringing in donuts to work, he headed to the front of the line. He smiled as he slowed his approach, not wanting to slip on the frozen ground. Nick was surprised to see Jesse still held the woman’s hand. Although Jesse was an affectionate kid, he was also very cautious and took a while to warm up to new people. A hand tightened around Nick’s heart. It had been a long time since Jesse had felt a motherly touch. Even when they’d sat on the couch watching TV, Jesse’s hand had always been curled around Anna’s.
    “I got it, dude!” Nick said jubilantly, putting his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “It was right whe—”
    The words caught in his throat as the boy turned and so did the woman holding his hand. “Hey!” she yelled, pulling the boy toward her.
    “I’m sorry.” Nick held up his hands. “I thought you were… my….” He spun on his heel, his gaze flitting all around him. “Jesse!” His name echoed on the cold evening air. “Jesse! My son? Where’s my son?” Nick grabbed the woman’s forearm and her eyes widened in horror. “My son!” he repeated. What was wrong with her? Why was she looking at him like that?
    “Hey, man, take it easy.” That came from a big, bald man a couple of spaces down the line.
    Nick ignored him and shook the terrified woman. “My son, he was here. Right here. Where is he? You must have seen him!”
    “Sir, is there a problem?”
    Nick looked at the woman dressed in a short-skirted elf costume and the burly security guard behind her. He dropped the frightened woman’s arm and ran shaking hands through his hair. “My son,” he said again. Why was no one listening to him? “He was right here! Where is he?” He turned back to the dark-haired woman who now clasped her son to her tightly. “You saw him. You must have. He was with the other woman and the boy. I just went to find his… his mitten.” Nick waved it pathetically, the woolen mitten still clutched firmly in his fingers. “I found… it.”
    “The little blond boy?” the elf asked.
    “Yes!” Nick tried not to scream but panic, raw and heavy bubbled deep within him. He tried to push it down, but he could taste it in the back of his throat. “He was here. Right here. I was only gone—”
    “She left.”
    “She left?” Nick shook his head. “What do you mean she left? Where. Is. My. Son?”
    The elf turned her concerned gaze on the security guard, who stepped forward and put a firm hand on Nick’s shoulder. Spots dotted Nick’s peripheral vision as his brain tried to force him to accept what she was saying.
    “Sh-she said there was an emergency. That they had to go.”
    “I-I thought you were together,” she stuttered. “Oh, my God. I didn’t know. I thought you were toge—”
    “Where is my son?” Nick knew what the answer was going to be, but he had to hear it. “Where is my son!”
    “Sh-she took him.”

    Looking For Jesse

    Buy Links:




    Author Bio:

    Lisa in her own words:

    I live in Leigh on Sea, a small seaside town just outside London on the coast of Essex, about ten minutes from Southend, which boasts the longest pier in the world. I live with my husband and two ever-growing children, who I let think are the boss of me; along with two dogs who actually are.

    As the wonderful Beatrix Potter said, “There is something delicious about writing the first words of a new story. You never quite know where they’ll take you.” I know exactly what she means.

    Website: http://lworrall.blogspot.com/

    Facebook: Lisa Worrall Author

    Twitter: Lisa_Worrall