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Tall, Dark and Kilted
With Scottish, Irish, and Brazilian blood in her veins, it’s hardly surprising Lizzie became a writer. She even wrote extra scenes for the films she watched as a child, until she was drummed out of the playground for keeping all the good lines for herself. Luckily, she saves them for her readers these days. A huge fan of Jilly Cooper (especially her shorter novels; Emily, Imogen et al), Lizzie had some short stories published, then her writing went on hold while she pursued a successful teaching career, the last sixteen years as a Deputy Head teacher in a large primary school. Back to being a novelist, her debut Tall, Dark and Kilted – themed Notting Hill meets Monarch of the Glen – echoes her love of her homeland in every page, not to mention heroes in kilts. She is currently working on her second novel which also a rom com but has overtones of romantic suspense, too.
Along with three other members of The Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writer Scheme Lizzie has founded an indie publishing group The New Romantics 4. The object of the group is to help, support and encourage each other to get their books on all the amazon sites - as paperbacks and kindle downloads. Along with the other three founding members, Lizzie held four book launches in the run up to Christmas. She plans to self publish her second book in time for Christmas 2013.
Details of Tall, Dark and Kilted
Fliss Bagshawe longs for a passport out of Pimlico where she works as a holistic therapist. After attending a party in Notting Hill she loses her job and with it the dream of being her own boss. She’s offered the chance to take over a failing therapy centre, but there's a catch. The centre lies five hundred miles north in Wester
. Ross, Scotland
Fliss’s romantic view of the highlands populated by Men in Kilts is shattered when she has an upclose and personal encounter with the Laird of Kinloch Mara, Ruairi Urquhart. He’s determined to pull the plug on the business, bring his eccentric family to heel and eject undesirables from his estate - starting with Fliss. Facing the dole queue once more Fliss resolves to make sexy, infuriating Ruairi revise his unflattering opinion of her, turn the therapy centre around and sort out his dysfunctional family.
Can Fliss tame the Monarch of the Glen and find the happiness she deserves?
Available for Kindle & paperback
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Two hours later, Murdo pulled off the main road and started a long slow descent, leaving the mountains behind and following a minor road flanked by a mixed plantation of pine and deciduous trees. Eventually he stopped and pulled off the road, turning round to Fliss he gestured at the stunning view in front of them.
‘There she is: Tigh na Locha, Fliss. The House by the
‘Oh God.’ Isla laid her head on her arms on the dashboard. ‘Dead man walking,’ she intoned, as if thoroughly dejected by the thought of the life she’d left behind in
‘Don’t be such a drama queen, Isla,’ Cat slipped in one last dig as she and Fliss clambered out of the Land Rover with Lassie hard on their heels.
From their vantage point, the mountains behind them were hidden by trees and Fliss could see soft, rounded hills that swept all the way down to a large loch. The colours were dazzling; the green of the hills and trees, the blue sky reflected in the deeper blue of the loch and the ochre of the sandy beach, which gave way to paler sand near a pebble path. The shore line dipped in and out of the expanse of water and in the distance, at vanishing point, the opposing shores appeared to link hands, cutting the loch off from the sea.
And, way below them, nestled in the trees with a wide lawn leading down to the waters’ edge where it became a beach, was Tigh na Locha. Solid, ancient, a slice of Scottish history complete with white painted turrets and stepped gables, and with a look of permanency that said: ‘I’ve been here for a thousand years. Wha’ dares challenge me?’
After the car journey, the view of the loch was balm to her soul and Fliss let out a long, shuddering sigh. Unasked for tears prickled her nose and blurred her view. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, a catch in her voice. Then she whispered softly so that no one could hear: ‘I’ve come home.’
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