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Ask an author which of their own books is their favourite and I suspect it’s like asking a parent to say which child they love best; it can’t be done. Turning the Tide will always be dear to me because it was my first full-length novel and it earned me a publishing contract. I’m proud of Move Over Darling because I wrote it during a very tough period with Stuff Happening externally and a crippling lack of self-confidence internally. Getting through that long dark night of the writing soul taught me a lot. Oh, but I did love writing Book 3! I loved returning to Little Spitmarsh, the setting for Turning the Tide , I loved seeing what Harry and Matthew had been up to and I loved my new heroine and hero. And fortunately, phew, everyone at Choc Lit loved them too and I was offered a new contract faster than I dared hope. One thing they didn’t love, though, was the title, so my working title went out the window and a new one was born, Follow a Star . Then I waited for my cover.

I know it's a frantic time of year, but do find time, if you can, to pop over to  Choc Lit's Author's Corner  .  For the next twelve days we'll be sharing our thoughts on the festive season, beginning today with a discussion on when Christmas really starts for each of us. And, since it's Christmas, there are presents!  Every second day, you'll have a chance to win something from the Choc Lit selection  by simply joining in the discussion .  The best comment left over the next two days will win you a copy of my book, Turning the Tide.   I look forwards to reading your thoughts at Author's Corner.  Merry Christmas and good luck!

‘Let’s go for a Chinese!’ says Tom in a true triumph of hope over experience. There’s only one Chinese restaurant anywhere near us and both the decor and the menu are seriously in need of a revamp. However, with our long-serving Dyson becoming the latest victim of the appliance apocalypse sweeping (or not in the case of the Dyson) through our house, we feel in need of, well not a treat exactly, but a change of scenery. No surprises at the restaurant; everything about it is reliably dreary, although the evening livens up when the man on the table behind us does a runner. That is, he fumbles for his walking sticks and hobbles slowly out the door without paying. Having tasted the sweet and sour pork I can understand why. So, it seems, can the staff because it takes several minutes before a waitress sets off after him. Although the meal’s a little less than bog standard, there’s nothing wrong with our pot of jasmine tea which arrives with a couple of fortune cookies. I’m a bit wary

Thursday 3 February Mobile again, we decide to take the little car, aka The Biscuit Tin, to do all the things that are stacking up in the south. The Biscuit Tin whizzes along impressively, although high winds make it skitter a bit which is interesting. Arrive at Ma’s to find her glowing with health (apart from the obvious injuries). She’s had to walk everywhere and looks reinvigorated for it. My sister, by contrast, is out of hospital but looking very thin and pale. Friday 4 February Tom and I both to London to catch up with old friends and former colleagues. I begin in Holborn and have a rare old time catching up with a dear friend from my trades union research days. (And, John, you can be sure I won’t forget now that the quote was from ‘Boys from the Blackstuff’!) John then points me in the right direction to join Tom at a restaurant in Earlham Street. Alas, as some of you will remember, being pointed in the right direction in London doesn’t mean I’ll end up in the right place

Goodness me, those posh chocolates are a dim and distant memory now. Hopefully, thanks to those generous folks at Appliances Online , some of you will shortly be wallowing in recipe books and chocolates galore. Just remember though that if you get a washing machine I’ll be a bit miffed as mine’s still on the blink. After a traumatic December I was hoping for a period of calm, but January’s been just as tumultuous... Ma , feisty old bird that she is, has coped amazingly with having one arm in a sling. Her delight when she managed to put a bra on for the first time was only marred by her dismay that she’d put it on inside out. At this stage, I’d have thought ‘What the heck’ and left it, but Ma went through the whole laborious process again! The hospital lost her follow-up appointment (you knew they’d do that, didn’t you?) but she’s now back in the system. All things considered she’s been a real star. My little sister was rushed into hospital last week with chest pains and treated

I don’t spend very much time looking back; the past is foreign country. Yet on the rare occasions I return to UEA, my impressions, initially, are always clouded by my teen-aged self and the shock of the new. Raw concrete under a leaden sky. Ladsun’s ziggurats slicing into sloping green. It all looks much softer today; climbers and tall trees blur the cutting edges, but the architectural puritan in me disapproves. We’re visiting the Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts , taking the opportunity to catch up with some favourite pieces in the Sainsbury Collection whilst we’re in this part of the world. The best paintings, for me, are the ones that evoke an almost visceral response; a resonance like the hum of a tuning fork. Francis Bacon does it for me every time and there are some truly stunning examples here. Henry Moore’s touching images of sleeping shelterers move me too. Antonio Saura’s, Hiroshima, Mon Amour . It’s wonderful to see them again. From Norwich it’s off to Cromer

It’s a fine, dry day and there’s an Italian market in the square outside Waterstone’s. Good for a book signing? ‘Bad,’ says Tim. The stalls are blocking the view of the shop and the fine weather’s keeping everyone outdoors. Hmm, that must be why they’ve only put one small poster up for my event, I mean why waste the Blu Tack? Tim demonstrates handing off the marauding hordes After much refolding of a black tablecloth and a rummage around for some books, I’m invited to take up my position at the author table somewhere between ‘fantasy and horror’, children’s books and a poster of the next author, Bobby ‘Iron Duke’ Windsor who’s signing on Monday. Once Tom, Lily, my lovely daughter, and her partner, Russ, are all sure I’m not going to run away, they leave me to it, taking it in turns to make sure I’m all right and bring me tea. Very soon, I notice a small boy watching me. When he returns with his family I learn that he would like to be a writer. His method, he tells me, is to rewr

Friday 24 September With just over a week to go before my first book signing, I phone Lovely Tim at Waterstone’s to make sure everything’s in place. ‘Er,’ says Lovely Tim, ‘remind me, what book is it again?’. After a pause, whilst I listen to some electronic pips with sinking heart, LT returns to tell me that everything to do with my book signing appears to have fallen down a black hole. Reeling, I contact Lyn at Choc Lit and in the blink of an eye everything is back on track. What a woman! It’s a chilly evening so we break out the heating. We’ve been trying to make our oil last (1) because it’s fiendishly expensive and (2) because we were hoping to move and didn’t especially feel like donating a lavish gift of a full tank of oil to someone who was messing about. Anyway, now prospective buyer has pulled out, we treat ourselves to some heat. Except that some gremlin has got into the system. And we don’t notice until 2 a.m. when we both wake up boiling alive. Three attempts to th

I'm delighted to be over at High Heels and Book Deals today, because: 1. I get to chat to Mel which is always a pleasure and 2. I've been allowed - encouraged even - to talk about my favourite shiny red shoes. Yay!

A large crowd is gathered outside Waterstone’s Carmarthen store. The last time I saw huge numbers of people outside a book store, John Barrowman was being mobbed in Borders whilst, a couple of doors down, there were queues round the block and bouncers keeping an eye on the hungry hordes waiting to meet Katie Price. Since I’m about to wander in to ask for my first book signing, the sight of all those people is a tad daunting. If only I’d remembered to get a Day-Glo makeover first. Getting closer we see that it’s not Captain Jack Harkness or Jordan pulling in the punters, but Michael Jackson or rather a Michael Jackson lookie-likie, who isn’t actually in the store, but on a stage outside. Something to do with the Carmarthen Merlin Festival celebrating ‘the legend and lore of Carmarthen’s ancient links with Merlin.’ Eh? I take a few deep breaths, get a pat on the back from Tom and, clutching a business card and a copy of Turning the Tide in my shaking hands, brace myself to do battl

One of many factors that made sailing on Veryan, our wooden boat, so interesting was that she was a very heavy boat with a very feeble engine. If the tide turned against us we simply didn’t get anywhere. This happened on one occasion just as we were trying to get into Bembridge Harbour on the Isle of Wight. It’s a harbour that the guide books say requires ‘close attention to detail’, but running out of horse power adds a touch of additional excitement. As the wind and a ferocious current tethered Veryan to one spot, Tom and I stood in the cockpit gritting our teeth against what felt like a full gale willing her to inch forwards. On the beach, just a few feet away, a little old lady and her dog, untroubled by the tide, stood in the sunshine watching us and wondering what the fuss was all about. Life’s felt a bit like sailing against the tide, despite last week’s fleeting visit from the Good Luck Fairy. This morning we woke to the news that archaeologists have uncovered Britain’s o

After a night of heavy rain , the west Wales coast was at its most beautiful this morning when I went out for a run. Blue sky, fluffy white clouds and hedgerows bejewelled with harebells, cornflowers and diamond-chipped feathery grasses shimmering in the watery sunlight. Not so great sights included a poor little dead mole lying on its back, forlorn starfish hands reaching for the sky, and a banana skin. (Note: always avoid the banana skins.) Hotel H has been heaving . I’ve finally got round to unpacking my bag from our recent trip to the south (don’t worry – I did unpack the manky bits on our return). We’ve had MiL and DiL here (on the ‘go-to-south-to-catch-up-with-one-set-of-rellies-bring-another-lot-home’ basis) and they like to spread out a bit. Surprise entertainment this week has included DiL suddenly being afflicted with an inability to walk – his slippers were on the wrong feet – and a mystery object falling out the washing machine with my tea towels – DiL’s undercrackers

'As the last chapter came to a close, I got off at my station, sat on a bench in the sun and postponed my walk home by ten minutes or so to enjoy the last few pages uninterrupted, a little oasis of sublime romance in my rushed day.' A lovely, lovely comment from a review of Turning the Tide by Miss Write . Check out her blog for sharp, clever writing.

Excuse me if I FREAK OUT just a little, won’t you? My keyboard should be smoking with activity, but today I’m having a bit of a moment. We’re off to the south east on Friday which is good because I’ll catch up with Ma. My sister and I are both trying to sell our houses at the moment so Ma’s been something of a Freak Control Red Centre, fielding calls from both of us and handling all the ‘It’s on/off/pile-of -cr*p/best-thing-I’ve-ever-seen/b*stards/heroes’ calls with appropriate pigeon noises. A very diplomatic approach, actually, since neither of us can throw her words back at her. But what’s really creeping up on me is Saturday, Day Two of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Conference 2010, because I’m joining the Choc Lit panel where we’ll be talking about our heroes. ‘But, mummy!’ said Rose. ‘The expert on your hero is you! What are you worrying about?’ And the answer is that I don’t know really, after all I’ve got up on my hind legs in a previous life and talked about su

Part of my daughter’s poorliness has meant a trip to hospital. When everything is done and dusted, Lily and I retreat to where the lovely WVS ladies are serving refreshments whilst we wait for Tom to collect us. The teas are 80p each and we ask for two. ‘£1.80!’ says the dear lady. We give her a surprised look and she has another bash, except I then throw everything into chaos by asking for a bag of Jelly Tots as well. A young Asian man wanders in looking punch drunk, clutching a shiny, black and white image which is drying in his hand. The image is of what looks like a satellite picture of the weather forecast, all swirls and mists. It is, of course, an ultrasound image of his child and looking at the father-to-be's face as he gazes as it makes me feel both privileged and unintentionally intrusive. I tell Lily about the moment I heard her heartbeat for the first time, when I barely believed I was pregnant, now here she is, a grown woman. For many months now a huge stack of paper

It’s all right, you can look – I’m not even going to mention You Know What ... well not until the end, anyway. Lily is poorly so we’re off to Cardiff today to give her some TLC. Looking after Lily means I won’t be a danger to myself in Cardiff, which is what happened a couple of weeks ago. I had a few minutes before I was due to meet Tom so thought I’d wander round the new John Lewis store to look at all the things I can’t afford. But before I got there, I noticed a bevy of gorgeous women offering some sort of beauty treatment. For someone who’s resisted all that stuff all their life (and it shows, dear reader), I’ve been slightly seduced by my ten pound manicure in New York so I decided to take a closer look. ‘You want eyebrows threaded?’ said one lovely lady. Did I? I’m pale-skinned with fine hair, not exactly a rain forest among women, yet when I took a close look at the rest of them with their perfectly-arched eyebrows, I had a real desire to be in the Beautiful Eyebrow Gang. &#

Look what the postman just delivered! For someone who’s supposed to be able to tell you about these things in words, I’m really struggling to describe the feeling of seeing everything I’ve worked and hoped for come together. Choc Lit produce the most beautiful covers; I’m utterly thrilled with mine and I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to hold a copy of Turning the Tide in my hands at last.

Friday 16 April a.m. Up at crack of doom to go to hairdressers for Big Night Out in Cardiff. On return, have quick sitting with Stepson Two and Gorgeous Girlf, for a round of possible PR photos. Stepson Two takes photographs while Gorgeous Girlf smiles encouragingly just behind him. Ask Stepson Two if he can take out all bags, wrinkles and blemishes. ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘but what would be the point?’. Midday. Drive Stepson Two and Gorgeous Girlf to Carmarthen to catch their train. A series of diversions mean we make the station with two minutes to spare. The best part of is it that they have booked this train so they can drive to Heathrow to collect GG’s parents... except that GG’s parents are now stuck in Egypt due to Volcanogate. p.m. It’s too early for us to meet Lily in Cardiff so we head for Penarth which is fabbity-fab-fab. We sit in glorious sunshine on the lovely old pier enjoying two cups of tea and three Welsh cakes for a truly bargainous £2.50. Perfick! Ring Lily at work to make

Yesterday started on an emotional note; I’d finally caught up with Saturday’s Guardian magazine whilst making an early morning cup of tea (visitors have been arriving in droves at Hotel H since the middle of March. It’s been lovely to catch up with everyone, but it’s been quite tricky trying to fit everything in). Then I turned to ‘Saying goodbye with my camera’, Briony Campbell's moving record of her father’s death from pancreatic cancer and just couldn’t hold back the tears – it was just like saying goodbye to my own dad again and brought back so many memories. Maybe I should be ‘over it’, (and a few regular readers of this blog will probably think, ‘God! Here she goes again!’). But I honestly don’t think time is a healer. It feels as if Dad’s been away too long and I just wish I could talk to him. Quite simply, there’s a huge hole left in my life that can never be filled and I just try not to fall in it too often. Anyway, I pushed the tea past the lump in my throat, said hello

First of all, I’d like to say a very big thank you to those of you who have so kindly pre-ordered Turning The Tide . I especially appreciate that vote of confidence because the book’s not even due out until June. It means a lot because I really enjoyed writing the novel so it feels lovely to have that support. Also, I became very attached to the characters and very much hope that you will enjoy meeting them too. I understand that at some point yesterday the system had a Funny Five Minutes and the pre-orders got thrown around a bit. The problem’s been identified and my Amazon entry should be back to normal soon. But, just so you know, Turning The Tide is also available for pre-order at W H Smith's , Tesco and The Book Depository (free postage). And talking of funny five minutes ,Tom and I went to his uncle’s 80th birthday party last weekend. We had a lovely time, but, rather like those lost tribes, we don’t mix with many large groups of people now and have both gone down wit