Wow. Ne’er were more apt words spoken and what a PERFECT time to get lost in the world of medical romances – a place where our health workers not only save lives, but find their own happily ever after.
I know a lot of folk are struggling now and my heart goes out to them. In a strange way, it’s a lucky time to be a romance writer. We’re used to a LOT of alone time. We get lost in magical worlds in pursuit of a happy ending…and love is at the heart of what we write.
So…pursuing a ‘let’s look at this whole Covid-19 situation through a Glass Half Full lens – I thought I’d give you a wee list of things I absolutely adore and hope you all can follow suit. Yes – these are funky times – but there is also good and joy and happiness within all the murk. Let the rays of light shine in. For me, just a few of the things that burst with sunshine are:
My pooches. They bring me great joy and I think this picture is cute.
Generous, kind, amazing, wonderful authors.
Finding a tulip amidst your forget-me-nots.
Discovering you can do the splits upside down!
CAKE!! (This doesn’t need explaining, right?)
A butterfly on a cornflower. (Thank you iPhone)
That magic moment when your cows stand in just the perfect place…
The long and short of it is, good things can be found anywhere…we just have to have the right lenses on to see them. Right here and now I cross my fingers that all of you are safe, in good health and able to enjoy splashes if not entire swathes of the bright side. It’s out there…but something you have to squint to see it. xoxoxo Be safe everyone xoxo Annie O’
A rescued heroine is an age old trope. Who will be our heroine’s Prince Charming, prepared to scale thorny palace walls to give us the kiss of life. *Screeeech!* It doesn’t really work like that anymore, does it? We want to be responsible for our own achievements, but have our gorgeous Prince close to hand to love and support us along the way. Which is why when we picked up our ‘rescue’ dog…I realised he was actually bringing more to our lives than the other way round.
This is Harris. He was born and abandoned in Turkey. I won’t put the video on of him first getting a check up from the vet’s as it is quite distressing, but suffice it to say, he was quite keen to be fed regularly! An incredible charity called Happy Paws just down the road from us rescues over 350 Golden Retriever/crosses A YEAR from Turkey. Abandoned, abused, neglected. They are all reprehensible ways to treat any animal. It got me thinking. Many of our heroes and heroines come from complicated pasts. They carry dark pain along with them and use it as a shield to keep their heart’s “safe”. It’s only when they meet someone who they think might penetrate that emotional fortress, that things become tricky…much like a rescue dog trying to figure out its new place in its new world.
My next book – a duet with the gorgeous Susan Carlisle – is about two people who are quite against the idea of finding that special someone to and trust their heart with…they’re both frightened. Just as Harris was when some friends came over to meet him and he thought they were here to take him away! Lots of cuddles and reassurances (and maybe a little sofa time later), he was convinced otherwise. It all took about ten minutes. We’re lucky because Harris is a big ol’ love bug and fell in love with us straight away (and with our very exuberant border collie with whom he is currently wrestling on the floor). It takes Kirri and Ty a bit longer…you’ll have to wait until it comes out in March to find out what really happens, but I’d be interested to know who you think is rescuing who…or is it really a mutually beneficial situation like ours is with Harris?
One of the best things about writing for Mills and Boon readers, is their VORACIOUS appetite for Christmas books. Suits me to a T. I love them and I love Christmas. Two years ago a couple of weeks before the big Yulefest, I lost my beloved Bernese Mountain Dog. I was absolutely devastated. We weren’t lucky enough to have children so our pooches really were our children (No, they didn’t have their own bedrooms or anything, but they were family). The next Christmas we were down to one and it was tough. Then, a few months later, we lost our gorgeous chocolate lab. Time whipped forward at its usual frenzied pace and VOILA! Father Christmas came and visited us with this gorgeous little minx. I actually wrote the first few chapters of Making Christmas Special Again before we got this little one, but Skye has definitely made my Christmas special again. This year will be our first with her (she was only two days old last Christmas so was still with her mummy). I can’t wait.
Below is the opening chapter for Make Christmas Special Again. It is part of a quartet with the gorgeous Susan Carlisle, the wonderful Annie Claydon and the super divine Karin Baine. We love making up wonderful worlds we all want to move to. Immediately! And this time was no different. I hope you enjoy the teaser! Happy Holidays to one and all. xx Annie O’
HELL’S TEETH, IT was cold. For once the all-consuming distraction of lungs vs arctic winds hurtling in
from the Highlands was welcome. Physical pain outweighed Max Kirkpatrick’s rage just long enough to remember that for every problem there was a solution. This time, though…
Trust the festive season to send him another blunt reminder that, no matter how hard he tried, the universe simply wasn’t going to let him put some good back into the world.
He’d genuinely thought he’d done it this time. He really had.
His eyes travelled the length of the scrubby inner-city hospital then scanned the former vacant plot. There’d been snow on and off for weeks and yet there were still patients wandering around with pets and still more in the greenhouse, fostering their plants as if they were their own flesh and blood.
He traced his finger along a frost-singed rose. The parents of a little boy who’d lost his struggle with cancer had planted it three years earlier when Max had only just started Plants to Paws. The lad had loved coming out here to play with the family mongrel. Golden moments, his parents had called them. Golden moments. They still came and tended it as if their son were still with them. In a way, he supposed, he was.
Max’s disbelief that someone was going to destroy the garden shunted through him afresh. Gone were the piles of rubbish, the burnt-out car, the thick layers of tagging on the side of the Clydebank Hospital walls. In their place were raised vegetable patches, benches with the names of loved ones on shining brass plaques dappled about the small wildflower meadow and, of course, the greenhouse and extra-large garden shed he’d built with a handful of other doctors. They’d recently installed a wood stove for added comfort. That would go, too. Along with the bow-laden wreath someone had hung on the door, despite his protestations that it was too early.
He crouched down to pop a couple of stones back onto the rock garden one of the Clyde’s long-term leukaemia patients had helped build. Her first ever garden, she’d crowed. She’d be gutted when she found out it was going to be demolished, all to help some fat-cat property developer.
As he nestled another rock back into place, a young Border collie ran up to
him with the tell-tale wriggle of a happy dog. She rolled onto her back for a tummy rub. He took a quick glance around and couldn’t place her with anyone within sight.
He gave her soft white belly a rub. ‘Hey, there, little one. You’re a pretty girl. Now, who do you belong to?’
‘Some would say they don’t belong to anyone.’
The female voice slipped down his spine like warm honey. Low and husky, it was the type of voice that could talk a man into anything if he didn’t watch himself. Good job he’d put the emotional armour on years back.
Max was about to say he was very familiar with the way canine-human relationships worked, thank you very much, when a pair of very expensive boots appeared on the woodchip path. Expensive boots attached to a public school accent. Still Scottish, but he would put money on the fact their schools had had a mixer dance. The military school his stepfather had deposited him in strongly encouraged shoulder rubbing with the ‘power makers’, as the school head had liked to call them.
‘Deal breakers’ would’ve been a better moniker if today’s news was anything to go by. He still couldn’t wrap his head round the hospital reneging on their word. Sure, they needed the money, but obliterating Plants to Paws to let a developer build a car park?
Bam! There went three years of hard work. Not to mention the slice of peace that came from knowing he’d finally made good on a years’ old vow to do what he hadn’t done for his mother: offer a refuge from a life that wasn’t as kind as it should have been. All for a bit of money they’d never see on the wards. Hello, cement trucks, sayonara Plants to Paws.
The puppy nuzzled against his hand. ‘What’s her name?’ He had yet to look up. ‘Skye,’ the voice said. She sounded like a Christmas ornament. Angel? Whatever. Too damned nice was what she sounded. Her leather boots moved in a bit closer. Italian? They looked handmade. ‘I think you’ll find her “love me tender” routine is an act. Skye’s always got an ulterior motive and, from the looks of things, you’re playing right into her paws.’
He didn’t even want to know what that meant.
‘Is she a working collie or one of those therapy dogs?’ They’d been trying to introduce the therapy dogs into the hospital but, as ever, stretched resources meant the lovable fur balls weren’t seen much on the wards.
‘Working. Though she’s still in training. Precocious. Just like her mother.’
Damn. This woman’s voice was like butter. Better. Butter and honey mixed together. If he was to add a shot of whisky and heat it up it’d be the perfect drink on a day like this.
‘What type of training?’ he asked, to stop his brain from going places it shouldn’t.
‘Search and rescue.’
That got his attention. He had been expecting agility. Maybe sheep herding. A voice like that usually came attached to some land. Land managed by someone else. As he tilted his head up, the sun got in his eyes and all he could make out was a halo of blonde hair atop a stretch of legs and a cashmere winter coat that definitely wasn’t from the kind of stores he shopped in.
Miss Boots squatted down to his level and the second their eyes met he stood straight back up.
Piercing blue eyes. A tousle of short curls the colour of summer wheat. A face so beautiful it looked as though it had been sculpted out of marble. For every bit of wrong she elicited in his gut, there was an equal measure of good.
‘Are you a patient?’ It was the only thing he could think to ask, though he knew the answer would be—
‘No.’ She put her leather-gloved hand out to shake his. ‘Esme Ross-Wylde.’
He kept his facial features on their usual setting: neutral. Though society papers weren’t his thing, even he’d heard of the Ross-Wyldes. Scottish landed gentry of the highest order. The Ross-Wylde estate came with about five thousand acres, if memory served. A couple of hours north of Glasgow. Before his mum had married The Dictator, as Max liked to think of his stepfather, she’d taken him there for one of their famous Christmas carnivals. Huge old house. A castle actually. Expansive grounds. Extensive stables. Skating rink. Toffee apples and gingerbread men. It’d been the last Christmas he hadn’t been made to ‘earn his keep’.
‘So.’ He clapped his hands together and looked around the sparsely populated garden. ‘Have you brought Skye along to meet someone?’
She unleashed a smile that could’ve easily lit him up from the inside out. Good thing she’d met him on a bad day. On a good one? He might have had to break some rules.
‘I was looking for you.’ She held up a familiar-looking scarf.
‘How’d you get that?’ He knew he sounded terse, but with his luck she was the developer. If she was trying to sprinkle some sugar in advance of telling him when the wrecking ball would swing, she may as well get on with it.
Esme was unfazed by his cranky response. She tipped her head towards the garden shed as she handed him his scarf. ‘A member of your fan club gave me this to give Skye a go at “search”.’ He glanced over at the shed and, sure enough, there were a couple of patients from the oncology ward waving at him. Cheeky so-and-sos. They’d been trying to blow some oxygen onto the all but dead embers of his social life ever since they’d found out the nurses not so discreetly called him The Monk. He rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Esme Ross-Wylde. ‘I presume that means you’re here for the “rescue” part?’
She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘If you’re interested.’ Skye’s tail started waving double time. If he wasn’t mistaken, the corners of her rather inviting lips were twitching with the hint of a smile. Something about this whole scenario felt like flirting. He didn’t do flirting. He did A and E medicine in Glasgow’s most financially deprived hospital. Then he slept, woke up and did it all over again. Sometimes he came out here and dug over a veg patch. There definitely wasn’t time for flirting.
When he said nothing she asked, ‘How do you fancy keeping Plants to Paws the way it is?’
His eyes snapped to hers, and something flashed hard and bright in his chest that had nothing to do with gratitude. It ricocheted straight past his belt buckle and all the way up again. By the look on her face, she was feeling exactly the same thing he was. An unwelcome animal attraction.
Oh, hell. If life had taught him anything, it was the old adage that if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was.
The Dictator had taught him that everything came with a price. Best to rip off the plaster and get it over with. ‘What’s the catch?’
STAY TUNED FOR MORE – OR RUSH OUT AND BY THE SERIES – BUT MOST OF ALL – TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES AND LET THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH! xx Annie O’ (cue Jingle Bells…jing Jing Jing Jing!)
Hello and welcome! Here we are at the magical height of summer (for me anyway – hello all of you rugged up Antipodeans!). We’ve got our first crop of hay in, have had two barbecues that didn’t require wearing snowsuits and…very excitingly…are just a handful of days away from the release of my latest Mills & Boon AND…(cue drumroll)…my first ever book by my new identity – Daisy Tate! The books are being released in quarters (a novella length each) but ALL on the same day so if you like part One – You can move on to Party Two (I mean part two – obviously. LOL.)
So why the new name? The short and sweet answer is – it was part of the publishing deal. And one I was happy to sign. A chance to try out a new voice and explore some untapped territories? Why not?
Does this mean I’m giving up Medicals? No Way! I’ve got a book coming out August 1st (July 25th in some lucky areas) that I’m really proud of it as it marks yet another first! A brand new editor. I had a great editor before, but I love it when they mix things up at M&B because it keeps me on my toes and ensures I am always giving you the best story I can.
So…please forgive the shameless plugging but I’m SO excited it’s all I can think about (when I’m not thinking about our seven month old puppy!!!).
If you’re in the mood for glamping with gal pals or diving into a second chance romance with me or my new alter ego – now’s your chance! Do send along any questions for either book or feel free to follow Daisy Tate on Twitter or Facebook for more news on that front – or I’m at my usual spots on the same sites as me. I hope you have an amazing summer (or winter) and if you have any questions or exciting things to say that are first for you – do let me know!! Big kiss to all xx Annie O’
So…big news. I have a new (not so secret) identity! I have spent the past few months doing double duty with our glorious team here at Medical Romance and working with a wonderful editor over at Harper Fiction on a brand new book called Happy Glampers.
It’s about four women who were friends at uni and have lost touch … until now. It’s been great fun to write, not least of which because the characters are all around forty – an age group I don’t normally write about. I also don’t normally write about glamping (fancy camping) … so, of course: RESEARCH!
Why are there FIVE covers you greedy little minx, you may be asking yourself. Well, in the spirit of Charles Dickens (ha! I wish…) this is a serialised book. The publishers are actually releasing the whole entire book on-line at the same time as the serialised section so it’s up to the reader if they want to dip in and see if they like it – or if they’d prefer to just gobble it up like a delicious gooey marshmallow in one go.
I cajoled my husband into glamping and we ended up having an absolute ball. We even made new friends.
In the spirit of my new double identity, I have a new facebook page (Daisy Tate’s Facebook) and Twitter handle (Daisy’s Twitter) BUT!!!! I will still very much be Annie O’Neil because…how could I not be? I’ve got a book coming out in August that I’m very excited about and one nearer to Christmas that involves PUPPIES!!!! (I just got a puppy. Can you tell I’m excited?) If you have any questions – please do write and ask. Happy Glampers doesn’t come out until August 1st (and not in paperback until next Spring!!!) but I thought I’d let you know why I might be popping up on your social media as two people. All the best for the summer (you glorious Northern Hemispherians) and autumn (you wonderful Antipodean folk). xx Annie O’
We all make choices. Not all of them are fabulous. But some of them are definitely risks worth taking. This is why I think reading romance is so brilliant. We get the chance not only to enjoy the exhilaration of falling in love over and over again…but we also get some smoking hot tips on who might not suit us best or who, on the flip side, just might be worth pulling on your fireproof pantaloons for.
SO! I’ve made a wee quiz that puts you right in the middle of the love danger zone. Who would you snog, marry or avoid? (Top tip – for the ranking one…just drag and drop to where you want them). Oh – and once again – I can’t figure out how to embed this into the blog but I am now going to go find a class where I can learn all of these wonderful things!
I recently went to a wedding in New England and it was just like being in a gorgeous RomCom starring Jennifer/Meg/Reese/Drew and (fill in appropriate hot guy for whatever rocks your boat). It was gorgeous and helped my little overactive imagination swan dive right into the quartet of books I was lucky enough to write with the fab Annie Claydon, Karin Baine and Susan Carlisle – Hot Single Dads!
Last week Annie Claydon put an excerpt from her book on the blog, so this week I thought I’d quiz your knowledge of New England, I know I learned a few things writing it! We’re going to select five random winners from people who participate so make sure and leave a comment in the section below if you want to be considered so that we can get in touch with you and send you HALF of the Single Dad Docs series to enjoy.
Because I am slightly less clever than I used to be (thank you winter head cold!!)…I have only managed to figure out how to link you to the quiz rather than embed it, and as such…..