1. When did you realise you had a knack for writing?
My mother’s an English teacher so my whole life I’ve been surrounded by books and words. But even though I wrote romantic little stories for myself, I never thought of writing until one day someone asked if there was any way I could turn my obsession with Arthurian stories (anything & everything to do with King Arthur, Camelot and the Dark Ages) into money. The only way I could think of was to write my own version of the Arthurian story. I never finished that first attempt, but my next book (a romance) was the first project I ever finished. The day I typed ‘The End’ I knew I’d found what I was destined to do.
2. Do you write what you read?
I do! Though I read fairly widely, romance is where my heart is at, whether it’s contemporary, paranormal or historical. I currently write contemporary romances as Romy Sommer, historicals as Rae Summers and then there’s that paranormal idea that’s been kicking around in the back of my head...
3. What’s the most challenging thing about being a writer?
Right now the most challenging thing is finding time to write, since I’m not yet able to write full time. It’s my dream to be able to live in the fantasy worlds in my head all day every day – and call it work.
4. Do you have a routine when it comes to writing, like listening to your favourite songs?
Since I have a day job and young kids, my writing routine currently consists of any spare moment I can find. I can write anywhere (as long as no-one’s trying to talk to me), with music or without, night or day.
I love music and even though I don’t write to it, songs frequently inspire my stories. (Hello Waking up in Vegas!)
I love music and even though I don’t write to it, songs frequently inspire my stories. (Hello Waking up in Vegas!)
5. Do you have a book which you always turn to when you’re in need of a pick-me-up? If so, what is it and why?
Oh yes! My pick-me-up read (and re-read and re-read) is Georgette Heyer’s The Grand Sophy. A delightful, irrepressible heroine, and a hero who really doesn’t want to fall in love (without ever having to say it). My close second would be Ms Heyer’s Venetia – for exactly the same reasons!
6. Could you tell us about your road to publication (HarperImpulse)?
Waking up in Vegas was born in 2009. I wrote the full novel during Nanowrimo, but the story didn’t quite work. Then in late 2012, as I was listening to Katy Perry’s Waking up in Vegas, it hit me like a sledgehammer – how to turn this story from ordinary into extraordinary... and I rewrote it from scratch in just 29 days!
I really believed in this story and after it had been rejected by the only three publishers I considered ‘worthy’, I decided to self-publish rather than settle for less than the story deserved.
I hired an editor, bought a cover, and ... then I saw the announcement of Harper Collins’ brand new romance imprint – Harper Impulse. For Harper Collins I was more than willing to delay my plans of self-publishing...
I’m so pleased I did. And I’m so grateful to the publishers who rejected this story, because if they hadn’t, then Waking up in Vegas (and its follow-up, the newly released The Trouble with Mojitos) wouldn’t have found its home with the perfect publisher!
7. What is your new book, The Trouble with Mojitos about?
In Waking up in Vegas we met Max, the charming, easy-going prince of the tiny European nation of Westerwald. Rik, the hero of The Trouble with Mojitos, is Max’s big brother, the dark to Max’s lightness. Rik is brooding, just a little angry, and he is so not looking for love... until film location scout Kenzie Cole walks into the Caribbean beach bar where he’s drinking away his problems.
The lovely Romy has given us a little sneak preview of The Trouble with Mojitos! What a tease, if you ask me!
Excerpt:
“A mojito, please.”
Kenzie sagged against the bar counter, not caring that her order sounded desperate or her body language suggested impatience. She needed alcohol, and she needed it now.
The benefit of an empty bar was that the drink came reassuringly quickly, poured from an ice cold jug ready and waiting, and complete with swizzle stick and paper parasol. She ditched both and tossed the drink back.
“Rough day?” The dreadlocked bar tender leaned on the scarred wooden counter.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Thanks, but I didn’t come here to talk.” She’d done enough of that all day. Talk, talk, talk, and still nothing to show for it. Now she understood how used car salesmen felt. Used.
It was enough to drive a girl to drink. Or at least to the resort’s beach bar, since hitting the mini-bar in her hotel room was just too sad to contemplate.
She didn’t drink alone. For that matter, she didn’t usually drink. Not these days.
Beyond the thatched cabana, the sky flamed every shade of pink and orange imaginable as the sun set over the white sand and surf. But here inside the bar was dark, shadowy and strangely comforting after a day of white-hot heat.
“She’ll have another.”
She turned to the wryly amused voice, and wished she hadn’t as she spotted the dark figure at the shadowy end of the long bar. Great. The resident barfly, no doubt. As if she needed another reason to hate this resort, this island, and the whole stinking Caribbean.
“I can order my own drinks, thank you.”
The shadowed figure shrugged and turned his attention back to his own drink. “Suit yourself.”
What was it with the men in this place? Didn’t think a woman could order her own drinks, didn’t think a woman could do business, wouldn’t even give her the time of day. She ground her teeth, the effects of the first drink not quite enough to blur the edges of her mood. “I’d like another, please.”
She ignored the deep-throated chuckle down the other end of the bar as the barman removed her glass to re-fill it.
The second drink followed the first a little more slowly, and this time she took a moment to savour it. Now she felt better.
But she was still screwed.
Neil had known it when he sent her out here. He’d known she’d be stone-walled, he knew he’d set her an impossible task, and still he’d sent her. He’d expected her to fail. Perhaps even wanted her to fail.
There were days when her past seemed very far behind her. And then there were days like today, when it seemed she’d never escape the follies of her youth.
“Sod him!”
“That’s the spirit.” The stranger at the other end of the bar slid from his bar stool, out of the shadows and into the yellow lamplight.
In another time and place he might have looked gorgeous, but in low-slung jeans that had seen better days, black long-sleeved tee, with hair in drastic need of a cut, several days’ worth of beard, and darkly glittering eyes, he was devastating.
Pirate devastating. Bad boy devastating.
Kenzie swallowed. Double great.
Kenzie sagged against the bar counter, not caring that her order sounded desperate or her body language suggested impatience. She needed alcohol, and she needed it now.
The benefit of an empty bar was that the drink came reassuringly quickly, poured from an ice cold jug ready and waiting, and complete with swizzle stick and paper parasol. She ditched both and tossed the drink back.
“Rough day?” The dreadlocked bar tender leaned on the scarred wooden counter.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Thanks, but I didn’t come here to talk.” She’d done enough of that all day. Talk, talk, talk, and still nothing to show for it. Now she understood how used car salesmen felt. Used.
It was enough to drive a girl to drink. Or at least to the resort’s beach bar, since hitting the mini-bar in her hotel room was just too sad to contemplate.
She didn’t drink alone. For that matter, she didn’t usually drink. Not these days.
Beyond the thatched cabana, the sky flamed every shade of pink and orange imaginable as the sun set over the white sand and surf. But here inside the bar was dark, shadowy and strangely comforting after a day of white-hot heat.
“She’ll have another.”
She turned to the wryly amused voice, and wished she hadn’t as she spotted the dark figure at the shadowy end of the long bar. Great. The resident barfly, no doubt. As if she needed another reason to hate this resort, this island, and the whole stinking Caribbean.
“I can order my own drinks, thank you.”
The shadowed figure shrugged and turned his attention back to his own drink. “Suit yourself.”
What was it with the men in this place? Didn’t think a woman could order her own drinks, didn’t think a woman could do business, wouldn’t even give her the time of day. She ground her teeth, the effects of the first drink not quite enough to blur the edges of her mood. “I’d like another, please.”
She ignored the deep-throated chuckle down the other end of the bar as the barman removed her glass to re-fill it.
The second drink followed the first a little more slowly, and this time she took a moment to savour it. Now she felt better.
But she was still screwed.
Neil had known it when he sent her out here. He’d known she’d be stone-walled, he knew he’d set her an impossible task, and still he’d sent her. He’d expected her to fail. Perhaps even wanted her to fail.
There were days when her past seemed very far behind her. And then there were days like today, when it seemed she’d never escape the follies of her youth.
“Sod him!”
“That’s the spirit.” The stranger at the other end of the bar slid from his bar stool, out of the shadows and into the yellow lamplight.
In another time and place he might have looked gorgeous, but in low-slung jeans that had seen better days, black long-sleeved tee, with hair in drastic need of a cut, several days’ worth of beard, and darkly glittering eyes, he was devastating.
Pirate devastating. Bad boy devastating.
Kenzie swallowed. Double great.
Lovely interview, Romy and Kevin! I really love the sound of this book. Can't wait to read.
ReplyDeleteThanks for hosting me Kevin. It was so great chatting with you!
ReplyDeleteWow Romy! Way to go! Great stuff. Your writing is going from strength to strength. Love the cover too :)
ReplyDeleteGina x
Thanks Rae and Gina for your support. Lovely to see you here!
ReplyDeleteAwesome excerpt Romy! Can't wait to read it too.
ReplyDelete