So what’s it like having your book read by complete strangers? Actually it’s weird. And unbelievably cool. And scary. I didn’t write this book intending to get it published. As readers of this blog know and as I have wittered on about at length, this book was a total indulgence for me. An attempt to try and break out of the category romance hole I’d got myself stuck in.

I’d originally intended it to be a 15k novella that would end after their first love scene. But as it turned out, both of them had more issues than 15k could cope with. So I kept going with it to see where it would lead and bugger the word count. As it turned out, it lead to another 20k of them working their crap out before they finally let go their fears! Thanks for turning my meticulously planned15k novella into a 45k category length book, guys. Really appreciate  it. Not.

Anyway, I fully didn’t intend to send out this oddity of a book until the CP started getting on my back about it so I sent it off just to keep her quiet. And now, nearly a year after I sent it out, it’s being read by people and it feels weird! And I’m scared about a whole lot of things like, have I dealt with Anna’s sexual assault issues sensitively enough? Is Finn too pushy? Will people who live in parts foreign like the Auckland setting? Will people mind that there are few secondary characters? Will they like the drama and the angst that I ladled on with a spoon because I love writing that kind stuff??

You kind of want to explain yourself to people. Explain your thought processes about the book, why and how you wrote it (as you can see by this long and probably tedious blog post). But the thing is, the book isn’t mine anymore. Yeah, I wrote it, but once it’s out there it becomes a reader’s book. It becomes part of a reader’s personal experience, coloured by their own thoughts and opinions, irrespective of what I meant when I wrote it. And that’s the way it should be. And why it’s so scary for a control freak like me. Like sending your kid off into the world and watching them become a person in their own right – you don’t have a say anymore.

And I think I’ll stop there because really, what I should be doing is not angsting about this book but getting into the next one. That’s always been my angst solution – keep writing.

Thanks for letting me witter. Am hoping for Chessman cover art soon so I’ll post that as soon as I’m allowed.

I leave you with a pic of my release day Whoopie pies. The white one is called a ‘romantic’. Naturally I had to buy it. And yes, it was delicious….

The moment when all the rejections are worth it.

The day your book is finally released into the wild.

Yep, Falling for Finn is released today and I just don’t know what to say other than this is what I’ve been working toward ever since I was twelve years old. I wanted to be an author but I didn’t think I’d ever get there. Getting published was, like, impossible. You had to write literary fiction didn’t you? And besides, it wasn’t a valid career choice…

Well, thirty years later, no you don’t have to write literary fiction and yes, it is a valid career choice. You just have to work hard. Damn hard. And be prepared to fight for it, to have lows like you wouldn’t believe yet still hang on like you’re hanging on the edge of a cliff by your fingernails and to let go would mean certain death.

Okay, so that was dramatic. But then that’s what I am. Dramatic.

And so is my book. It’s full of angst and drama and sexytimes. So if you like that sort of thing, buy it. Because it’s now live!

Go Finn! Be free (but not too free because some authors have to make a living)!

I’m composing this blog post on the 19th here but of course, it’s not the 19th in other places. So Wed (NZ time, Tues everywhere else), I shall be doing some Twitter giveaways and stuff, so if you want a free copy, follow me on Twitter and wait for the announcement.

Also, am very proud to be on the USA Today Happy Ever After blog – on the front!!

To celebrate I leave you with an awesome haiku that the lovely Fiona Marsden composed for me about Finn:

She has no dark memory

Need to fill gap made by fear

He always had her heart

Oh and another excerpt…

A fine appreciation for single malt was something they’d discovered a couple of years ago after Finn had done a Wild Life show on Skye, in Scotland. In amongst all the rock climbing and trekking, he’d visited a distillery, bringing back a bottle for her.

It had been a joke at first, since neither of them had been able to tell the difference in taste, but slowly it had become another one of their little traditions. She’d given him a whisky-tasting course once for his birthday. One he’d dragged her along to as well.

She took a sip. Fire and peat and smoke. The warm glow of embers. “Wow, this is pretty good.”

His grin deepened. “Yeah, I thought so too.” He raised his glass. “Slainte.” Then he sipped.

The warm glow of the Scotch spread through her, easing her tension. Giving her a little bit of respite.

“So, how’s the show going?”

“Pretty good. Ratings are excellent, which means I’ll be doing a third season.” He leaned his hip against the breakfast bar. “Put a proposal in to the producers about going to Nepal. Thought Everest might be a draw card.”

Anna took another sip of Scotch to cover the instinctive denial. God, she hated it when he went somewhere dangerous. Still, that was who he was. He liked a physical challenge. The adrenaline rush. And he was good at it.

She still remembered the skiing trip she’d taken with his family when she’d been ten and Finn twelve. They’d learned to snowboard for the first time. She’d spent the week sitting on her butt while Finn had picked up the basics in half an hour. He was doing jumps by the end of the trip.

“Are you sure?” she said, unable to help herself.

He just gave her that Finn Shaw grin, tinged with the tease he saved for her when she was being too careful. “And you call me protective.”

“It’s Everest, not Mount Eden. You don’t just drive to the top so you can get a view of the city.”

“I’ll have other people with me. You know I’m careful.”

Yeah, she did. He’d got a lot better over the years when it came to the dangerous sports he indulged in, taking on board some of her cautiousness. He’d often complained she was turning him into a lawyer, but nevertheless he didn’t stop doing it. And once he’d got the Wild Life job and had a crew to look after, he’d become even more safety conscious, his innate protectiveness coming to the fore.

Finn took another sip. His eyes glinted. “Plus, I’m good.”

“Even if you do say so yourself.”

Well, Finn had never met a sport he couldn’t do well within hours of trying it. As a total nonathlete, she’d always found that very impressive.

“I do say so myself.”

“So modest.”

“That’s me. Modesty is my middle name.”

“I thought Clive was your middle name.”

He laughed. The warm, genuine Finn laugh that made her feel good every time she heard it. “If that ever got out…”

“Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Think of my fans, woman.”

This time it was her turn to laugh because Finn did indeed have many fans. Who wouldn’t give a crap about his middle name as long as he gave them a signed autograph. Or even a kiss. “You think of your fans. I’ll think of the blackmail potential.” It was good to be here in his apartment, sipping Scotch and talking crap. Familiar. Normal. She’d missed this as well.

Anna finished her whisky and put it down on the wooden counter. “Another, barman.”

He poured her another measure. Then said, “You’re putting it off.”

Oh crap. He knew her too well. And yeah, he never let anything go.

She didn’t look at him. “Putting what off?”

“Putting off telling me whatever it is that brought you here.”

“How do you know that?”

“How do I know? You asked me for help, remember? And you still haven’t told me exactly what kind of help you need.”

The tension that had eased while they’d been talking began to gather inside her again. A tension born of nervousness and trepidation and…fear.

Fear he wouldn’t do what she wanted. Fear he would.

Anna picked up the tumbler, knocked back the Scotch in one hit. The alcohol burned its way down her throat and she coughed.

“Jesus, Anna. That bottle cost me five hundred bucks. You could savor it a little.”

She put down the glass, eyes watering, blinking at him.

“You don’t want to ask me, do you?” A straight-out question. No games. That was Finn.

It deserved a straight-out answer. “No. Not really.”

“Then why are you? And what the hell kind of help do you need that makes you afraid to ask?”

She’d thought long and hard about how she wanted to ask him. She’d practiced it in front of the mirror, rehearsed it over and over, but nothing had ever sounded right in her mouth. Right now, asking while drunk seemed a fine idea.

Pushing the tumbler toward him, she said, “Hit me.”

Finn put the cork in the bottle. “No.”

“Finn.”

“I said no.”

“Why not?”

He straightened, gaze opaque. “Since when do you have to be drunk to ask me for help?”

Anna swallowed. Better out than in, right? “Since I decided that I want you to sleep with me.”