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It’s HUG A BOOK and this weekend it’s with Lizzie Lamb
Tall, Dark and Kilted
Lizzie Lamb - After thirty four years as a primary school teacher, Lizzie decided it was time to find out if she had it what it took to become a published author. Leaving the chalk face behind, she toyed around with various romantic sub genres before deciding that rom coms were her ‘thang’.
She joined the Romantic Novelists’ Association and spent the next few years honing her craft. It was at an RNA Conference that she met Amanda Grange (Mr D’Arcy’s Diary) who was self publishing her back catalogue on Amazon -quite an innovation at the time. Mandy encouraged Lizzie to write from her heart and not to focus too overtly on what she ‘believed’ agents and publishers were looking for.
After some deliberation, Lizzie formed the New Romantics 4 with three other members of the RNA’s New Writers’ Scheme and went down the self-publishing route. It was the best decision she ever made. With help and encouragement from Mandy and the other three members of NR4 she finished Tall, Dark and Kilted and published it as a paperback and formatted it for kindle download on all amazon sites in November 2012.
Since then she has written and published Boot Camp Bride and has designated November 2013 her promotional month. Boot Camp Bride has won Lizzie a nomination in the New Talent Award at the forthcoming Festival of Romance. Watch this space !!
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.’