After a nightmare weekend of fighting with Word and Createspace over my lack of ability to format page numbers, I’ve finally finished Book 3 of my rural romance series (Red Dust Series). The book itself has been a slow process, mostly because I’ve had problems with RSI, but I have to admit lack of motivation has also been a factor. Now at last I have my own office/study/den, whatever you want to call it. It’s a bedroom and still has a dressing table and a tallboy, but the dressing table mirror is no longer covered with my grandson’s assortment of stickers, and the tallboy—well, most of the drawers are still full of my youngest son’s indescribable stuff (e.g. two large chunks of pipe covered in plaster, paint and gold fabric, once part of his costume as the candle in Beauty and the Beast) but I have claimed a few drawers for writing and computer needs. Having my own space has made a huge difference to my motivation and I finished the book sooner than I thought I would.
The page number fiasco is something I go through every time I publish a book with Createspace and have to re-learn how to start the page numbers on the page where my first chapter is, not on the first page of the actual book. I don’t know why this is so complicated but maybe it’s not, it’s just that I’m only doing it once or twice a year and I always forget the process. I actually wrote some notes last time but of course they disappeared. I spent hours reading on-line lessons and watching videos and finally fluked it but I’m still not sure how exactly!
Then there was the cover. I bought a photo from istock which was close enough to what I wanted—storm clouds over a vineyard—and didn’t have much trouble building a cover for my ebook but I do like to have a POD available as well; getting the cover right for them—has to be the right
size, then you have to fit the text within a certain area—took me several attempts but I’m happy with it now.
So here’s a blurb and an excerpt from ‘Red Wine and Summer Storms’. Those of you who read the last book in the series, ‘The Road to Karinya’ will remember Dan’s little sister Clare; this one’s about her, all grown up:
Book 3, Red Dust Series. Australia, 1985
After a painful breakup with her long term boyfriend, lawyer Clare Sutton moves to Mildura to open her own practice not too far from Karinya Station, where her brother lives with his family. She’s thrilled to have her own office, even if she spends most of her days with paperwork, and is not looking for any romantic attachments.
On a visit to Karinya she meets Max Fraser, grape grower and budding wine maker. They become friends and he protects her on more than one occasion, because someone is stalking her, and although Clare’s work involves contact with criminals, at first she doesn’t take it seriously. It’s not long before her feelings for Max become more than friendship, but is it the kind of relationship that her brother has with his wife Prue? The kind that will last a lifetime?
In 1923, Fern is fresh from Sydney with her new husband, returned soldier George, to start a new life on a citrus orchard in Curlwaa. Their life is filled with hardships but their love for each other never dies and Fern has no regrets.
In 1985, now a widow, Fern lives in Mildura, next-door to Clare, and they become good friends. Estranged from her remaining family Fern looks on Clare almost as a daughter and becomes worried about her when she realises someone is watching her.
Readers of the other books in the Red Dust Series will know Clare and her family from ‘The Road to Karinya’, but each book can be read as a stand alone novel.
He had Prue in his arms by then and they were both grinning like Cheshire cats, clearly as happy in each other’s company as always. I was vaguely aware someone else was hovering in the doorway and I looked up to see who it was.
“Sorry Max!” Dan said and he gestured to the man to come in. “This is my beautiful baby sister, Clare.”
Max wasn’t my type, I thought immediately, which wasn’t a bad thing since I certainly wasn’t looking. He was gorgeous, but I preferred the leaner type, or, as friends at uni had said, I liked them lean and mean. Max, in his navy singlet and jeans, was all muscle. And very blue eyes. He was tall enough though and his hair was okay, sort of mousy blond—all in all he was a man who probably didn’t look as good in a suit as Pete did but then if Pete stood next to him in jeans and a singlet—well, that would just be hilarious. He’d look like a string bean. Max coughed and grinned and I realised I’d been staring at him—measuring him up like beefcake!