The New Anna Campbell Novel – What a Duke Dares

What a Duke DaresAnna Campbell fans, rejoice! The multi-award winning historical romance author is back with a touching, humorous and utterly delightful story.

What a Duke Dares is about reputation at risk. What woman in her right mind would say no to marrying the dashing Duke of Sedgemoor? But Miss Penelope Thorne has known Camden Rothermere since they were children – and she knows she would bring nothing but scandal to his name.

Camden can hardly believe Penelope turned down his proposal. But if she wants to run off to the Continent and set the rumor mill ablaze, he can’t stop her. Then her brother’s dying request sends him to bring home the one woman he thought was gone from his heart.

The only way they’ll both get back to London without their reputations in tatters is to pretend they’re married during the journey. That means kissing like they mean it and even sharing a bed – until it becomes hard to tell where the game ends and true desire begins …

‘Campbell’s vibrant voice rings out in another touching, humorous and utterly delightful story. Her multidimensional characters’ dialogue sparkles with wit, and the sensuality blazes across the page … an extraordinary read.’ Romantic Times

What a Duke Dares is out September 1.


Q&A with Impulse Author Sara Donovan

Love by Numbers COVDescribe the perfect date. 
The perfect date is about the feelings – elation, mystery, sexual tension, playfulness –all of which can be influenced by what you do. So, like the heroine in my book, I’d like a good half day to trigger as many romance endorphins as possible. That means, doing things that fire up adrenaline and emotions (like a steep hike to a magnificent lookout), being incredibly competent at something in front of each other and not making a big deal of it, having him provide food from the ‘hunt’ (a good restaurant will do), then sharing a secret and really listening to each other. Puts me in the mood, just thinking about it….

What is the hardest thing about being a romance author?
The hardest thing is being a bit in love with the men in my book and having to break up with them because my editor has said ‘Your book is finished. Don’t send any more final drafts!’ The scariest thing is I’m only half joking.

What is the best thing about being a romance author?
I love having a job where staring out the window and daydreaming about love, relationships and desire is productive time. And the benefits aren’t just creative. All the thinking also leads to a deeper appreciation of my relationship with my husband. Plus, having his input into my writing has been extraordinarily romantic and bonding.

Who (aside from a significant other) do you swoon over?
I am a complete sucker for Celebrity Chefs – especially bald ones with big glasses (I love Heston Blumenthal)! He’s so damn creative and in his power. Seriously attractive.

Tell us something very few people know about you.
I’ve adored two men in my life and they have the same surname. Yep. Brothers. It all worked out beautifully in the end.

Describe your writing style in three words.
Energetic. Thought-provoking. Compassionate.

What is your definition of a good book?
A book that entertains as it provokes me to be more accepting towards myself and others.

Which author would you invite to a dinner party and why?
I was going to say my Celebrity Chef crush, Heston Blumenthal (he’s written cookbooks – does that count?) But really it would be Stephen King. His quotes about writing are all over my desk (‘the scariest time is just before you start writing’, ‘your job isn’t to find ideas. It’s to recognise them when they show up’, etc etc). I confess I’ve never read one of his horror books, but everything he says about writing inspires me.

Finish this sentence: I would do anything for love, but I won’t do… drugs, other than trying to get my own romance endorphins going!

Sara’s eBook Love by Numbers is available now.


Guest Blogger Natalie S. Ellis on Building a Loveable Kidnapper

Fear for Hire COVGuest Author: Natalie S. Ellis worked behind the scenes in TV news for sixteen years and will always miss the rush of a breaking story. But the seduction of writing a fiery romance with twisty suspense is even harder to resist, especially when she has a new curve-ball for the plot. Natalie enjoys living in her hometown of Fort Wayne, Indiana, and attributes her cheerful attitude to empty nesting, a supportive family, and way too many lattés. To learn more about Natalie, and her debut novel Fear for Hire, visit the book’s wesbite or the HarperCollins website.

Natalie’s Challenge: One of my biggest challenges with Fear for Hire was making my hero Jack macho, yet sensitive. Kidnapping and bondage are subjects that need to be approached very carefully in a romance novel, I discovered. I often joke that my rough draft of Fear for Hire would have given Fifty Shades of Grey a run for its money. My agent at the time told me I couldn’t have Jack touch Molly in a sexual way while she was tied up or it couldn’t be a romance novel. Hm. Maybe I should have argued that point a little harder.
The first version of Jack—let’s call him Jack 1.0—was more sinister when he kidnapped Molly. I wanted the reader to be as terrified as Molly was. He acted like an ex-cop in a detective novel, rather than a romance. I struggled with realism and romance quite a bit when I first started writing. I kept hearing that Jack was too mean, but I didn’t want him to be a pansy, and I didn’t want my kidnapping scene to be boring. After many sleepless nights and long soaks in the tub—seems to wake up the brain cells—I finally realized that one of Jack’s coolest traits was his cocky, yet charming, attitude. If Jack 2.0 had a deeper point of view, and his thoughts were as cheeky as some of his flirtatious lines, it would be easy for readers to see he’s a good guy. Going into Jack’s mind revealed that there was a lot of tug of war going on from the moment he entered Molly’s apartment: Why would she want to be kidnapped? I don’t want to be here! She’s pretty hot! God, I’m a lecher for even thinking this situation is exciting. I think deeper POV worked to make Jack much more loveable. What do you think?

Natalie’s Book Recommendation: “Darkling, I Listen,” by Katherine Sutcliffe. Unfortunately it’s not an eBook, at least not yet. This book has influenced my writing more than any other—it has all the right ingredients of a suspenseful page-turner. The hero is a sexy, tormented movie star who screwed up his career with alcohol. The heroine is a beautiful, starving tabloid photographer who can get big bucks from a photo of him. There are sizzling love scenes. A scary stalker. The heroine is almost too brave for her own good. And the hero is even rougher than Jack, but we know he’s a good guy because of the gentle side we see in him when he talks to a relative who’s in a coma. This book is on CD too, and narrated very well.

Natalie’s eBook Fear for Hire is available now.

Congratulations to Anna Campbell

On Saturday night we all got blinged up to the max for the Australian Romance Readers Awards dinner. Our wonderful author, Anna Campbell – who has won Favourite Romance Author for the past five years in a row – passed on the sparkly tiara this year to a worthy successor. But she did win Favourite Series for her Sons of Sin trilogy. The first two, Seven Nights in a Rogue’s Bed and A Rake’s Midnight Kiss, are out now, with the third, What a Duke Dares, coming in August. Catch up with this fabulous Regency noir series now, in time for the release of What a Duke Dares. A Rake's Midnight KissSeven Nights in a Rouge's Bed

Q&A with Molly McAdams

The darling Deceiving LiesMolly McAdams spoke to us about Chris Hemsworth, the perfect date and creepy noises in the night. Her latest book Deceiving Lies is available in paperback and as an eBook from March 4.

1. Describe the perfect date. I really want to bust out in a Miss Congeniality quote right now! Ha! But, honestly, I’m one of those people who loves spontaneous/random dates. Like. “Hey! Let’s go for a drive, see where we end up.” And since you’re stuck in a car with them for however long, you can talk a lot and just be ridiculous if you have the music blasting. Then you pick a place to pull off the freeway, and find somewhere to eat. Look around at the town’s shops. If you’re near the beach, go sit on it and talk for a while. Then make the drive back home.  Pretty much every date my husband and I went on for the first year of our relationship.

2. Which of your books are you most proud of? Oh, that’s a really difficult question! Three are standing out in my mind for completely different reasons. Uhhhh … but … I think I have to go with FORGIVING LIES. It was technically the first book I ever wrote. And I completely re-wrote the book three times before getting what you see now.

3. What is the hardest thing about being a romance author? Having to write my characters’ love stories. Sometimes relationships suck, and having to go through that for a bunch of other people—not just myself—is really hard!

4. What is the best thing about being a romance author? Getting to write my characters’ love stories. Sometimes they’re full of swoon-worthy-ness, and moments that make my heart happy.

5. Who (aside from a significant other) do you swoon over? Uh. Chris Hemsworth. PLEASE. Legit, named my red SUV: Thor.

6. Tell us something very few people know about you. Well, I would normally say something about how awkward I am. But I’m pretty sure everyone now knows how awkward I am. Um … I once drank a bottle of nail polish remover when I was a toddler. My poor parents. I’m pretty sure I gave them a dozen heart attacks by the time I was five.

7. Describe your writing style in three words. Angst. Drama. Real.

8. What is your definition of a good book? A story that makes me forget it isn’t reality.

9. Which author would you invite to a dinner party and why? Nicholas Sparks … he’s my favorite. He really needs no explanation. Haha!

10. Finish this sentence: I would do anything for love, but I won’t do THAT! Oh, wait, you really wanted me to answer? I started singing and everything just now. I really can’t think of anything! Haha other than serious stuff like: I won’t change myself. My husband and I are best friends so we’re never doing anything where the other is like, “No! No way!” But, you know what? I refuse to go check the house when there’s a creepy noise in the middle of the night. He can do that, I don’t care how tired he is. He’s the cop!

An excerpt from Sophie Jordan’s Foreplay

Welcome back to the Avon Romance blog for 2014. We hope Foreplayyou had a wonderful holiday period. To get you in the mood we thought we would start the year off with an excerpt from Sophie Jordan’s book Foreplay: The Ivy Chronicles. For more excerpts from the book check out Sophie’s blog here.




Excerpt #1

Smoke billowed up from beneath the hood of my car in great plumes, a gray fog on the dark night. Slapping the steering wheel, I muttered a profanity and pulled to the side of the road. A quick glance confirmed that the temperature gauge was well into the red.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I killed the engine with quick, angry movements, hoping that might miraculously stop the vehicle from overheating further.

Grabbing my phone from the cup holder, I hopped out of the car into the crisp autumn night and stood well away from the vehicle. I knew nothing of engines, but I’d seen plenty of movies where the car blew up right after it started smoking. I wasn’t taking any chances.

I checked the time on my phone. Eleven thirty-five. Not too late. I could call the Campbells. They would come and get me and give me a ride back to the dorm. But that still left my car alone out here on this road. I’d only have to deal with that later, and I already had a ton to do tomorrow. I might as well handle it now.

I glanced at the quiet night around me. Crickets sang softly and wind rustled through the branches. It wasn’t exactly hopping with traffic. The Campbells lived on a few acres outside of town. I liked babysitting for them. It was a nice break from the bustle of the city. The old farmhouse felt like a real home, lived-in and cozy, very traditional with its old wood floors and stone fireplace that was always crackling at this time of year. It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The kind of life I craved someday.

Only now I didn’t quite appreciate how isolated I felt on this country road. I rubbed my arms through my long thin sleeves, wishing I had grabbed my sweatshirt before I left tonight. Barely October and it was already getting cold.

I stared grimly at my smoking car. I was going to need a tow truck. Sighing, I started scrolling through my phone, searching for tow trucks in the area. The lights of an oncoming car flashed in the distance and I froze, debating what to do. The sudden insane idea to hide seized me. An old instinct, but familiar.

This had horror movie written all over it. A girl all by herself. A lonely country road. I’d been the star of my own horror movie once upon a time. I wasn’t up for a repeat.

I moved off the road, situating myself behind my car. Not hiding exactly, but at least I wasn’t standing out in the open, an obvious target. I tried to focus on the screen of my phone and look casual standing there. Like if I ignored the approaching car its inhabitant would somehow not notice me or the smoking pile of metal. Without lifting my head, every part of me was tuned in to the slowing tires and the purring engine as the vehicle stopped.

Of course, they stopped. Sighing, I lifted my face, staring at a would-be serial killer. Or my rescuer. I knew that the latter was much more likely, but the whole scenario made me queasy and I could only think of worst-case possibilities.

It was a Jeep. The kind without a roof. Just a roll bar. The headlights gleamed off the stretch of black asphalt.

“You okay?” The deep voice belonged to a guy. Much of his face was in shadow. The light from the instrument panel cast a glow onto his face. Enough that I could determine he was youngish. Not much older than myself. Maybe mid-twenties at the most.

Most serial killers are young white males. The random factoid skittered across my thoughts, only adding to my anxiety.

“I’m fine,” I quickly said, my voice overly loud in the crisp night. I brandished my phone as if that explained everything. “I have someone coming.” I held my breath, waiting, hoping he would believe the lie and move on.

He idled there in the shadows, his hand on the gear stick. He looked up ahead at the road and then glanced behind him. Assessing just how alone we were? How ripe his opportunity was to murder me?

I wished I had a can of mace. A black belt in kung fu. Something. Anything. The fingers of my left hand tightened around my keys. I thumbed the jagged tip. I could gouge him in the face if necessary. The eyes. Yeah. I’d aim for the eyes.

He leaned across the passenger seat, away from the glow of instrument panel, plunging himself into even deeper shadow. “I could look under the hood,” his deep, disembodied voice offered.

I shook my head. “Really. It’s okay.”

Those eyes I had just contemplated gouging with my keys glittered across the distance at me. Their color was impossible to tell in the thick gloom, but they had to be pale. A blue or green. “I know you’re nervous—”

“I’m not. I’m not nervous,” I babbled quickly. Too quickly.

He leaned back in his seat, the amber glow again lighting his features. “I don’t feel right leaving you out here alone.” His voice shivered across my skin. “I know you’re afraid.”

I glanced around. The inky night pressed in thickly. “I’m not,” I denied, but my voice rang thin, lacking all conviction.

“I get it. I’m a stranger. I know it would make you more comfortable if I left, but I wouldn’t want my mother out here alone at night.”

I held his gaze for a long moment, taking his measure, attempting to see something of his character in the shadowy lines of his face. I glanced to my still smoking car and back at him. “Okay. Thanks.” The thanks followed slowly, a deep breath later, full of hesitation. I only hoped I wasn’t going to end up on the morning news.

If he wanted to hurt me he would. Or at least he would try. Whether I invited him to look at my engine or not. That was my logic as I watched him pull his Jeep in front of my car. The door swung open. He unfolded his long frame and stepped out into the night with a flashlight in his hand.

His footsteps crunched over loose gravel, the beam of his flashlight zeroing in on my still-smoldering vehicle. From the angle of his face, I didn’t think he even looked my way. He went straight for my car, lifting the hood and disappearing under it.

Arms crossed tightly in front of me, I stepped forward cautiously, edging out into the road so I could watch him as he studied the engine. He reached down and touched different things. God knows what. My knowledge of auto mechanics was right up there with my origami-making abilities.

I went back to studying his shadowy features. Something glinted. I squinted. His right eyebrow was pierced.

Suddenly another beam of lights lit up the night. My would-be-mechanic straightened from beneath the hood and stepped out, positioning himself between me and the road, his long legs braced and hands on his hips as the car approached. I had my first unfettered view of his face in the harsh glow of oncoming headlights, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

The cruel lighting might have washed him out or picked up his flaws, but no. As far as I could see he had no physical flaws.

He was hot. Plain and simple. Square jaw. Deep-set blue eyes beneath slashing dark brows. The eyebrow piercing was subtle, just a glint of silver in his right eyebrow. His hair looked like a dark blond, cut short, close to his head. Emerson would call him lickable.

This new vehicle halted beside my car and I snapped my attention away from him as the window whirred down. Lickable leaned down at the waist to peer inside.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Graham. Mrs. Graham.” He slid a hand from his jean pocket to give a small wave.

“Car trouble?” a middle-aged man asked. The backseat of the car was illuminated with the low glow of an iPad. A teenager sat there, his gaze riveted to the screen, punching buttons, seemingly oblivious that the car had even stopped.

Lickable nodded and motioned to me. “Just stopped to help. I think I see the problem.”

The woman in the passenger seat smiled at me. “Don’t worry, honey. You’re in good hands.”

Eased at the reassurance, I nodded at her. “Thank you.”

As the car drove away, we faced each other, and I realized this was the closest I had allowed myself to get to him. Now that some of my apprehension was put to rest, a whole new onslaught of emotions bombarded me. Sudden, extreme self-consciousness for starters. Well, for the most part. I tucked a strand of my unmanageable hair behind my ear and shifted uneasily on my feet.

“Neighbors,” he explained, motioning to the road.

“You live out here?”

“Yeah.” He slid one hand inside his front jean pocket. The action made his sleeve ride up and reveal more of the tattoo that crawled from his wrist up his arm. Unthreatening as he might be, he was definitely not your standard boy next door.

“I was babysitting. The Campbells. Maybe you know them.”

He moved toward my car again. “They’re down the road from my place.”

I followed. “So you think you can fix it?” Standing beside him, I peered down into the engine like I knew what I was looking at. My fingers played nervously with the edges of my sleeves. “’Cause that would be awesome. I know she’s a jalopy, but I’ve had her a long time.” And I can’t exactly afford a new car right now.

He angled his head to look at me. “Jalopy?” A corner of his mouth kicked up.

I winced. There I went again, showing off the fact that I grew up surrounded by people born before the invention of television.

“It means an old car.”

“I know what it means. Just never heard anyone but my grandmother say it.”

“Yeah. That’s where I picked it up.” From Gran and everyone else in the Chesterfield Retirement Village.

Turning, he moved to his Jeep. I continued to play with my sleeves, watching him return with a bottle of water.

“Looks like a leaky radiator hose.”

“Is that bad?”

Unscrewing the cap on the water, he poured it inside my engine. “This will cool it down. Should run now. For a while at least. How far are you going?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“It will probably make it. Don’t go farther than that or it will overheat again. Take it to a mechanic first thing tomorrow so he can replace the hose.”

I breathed easier. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Shouldn’t cost more than a couple hundred.”

I winced. That would pretty much wipe out my account. I would have to see about working a few extra shifts at the daycare or getting some more babysitting gigs. At least when I babysat, I could get in some studying after the kids went to bed.

He slammed the hood back in place.

“Thanks a lot.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Saved me from calling a tow truck.”

“So no one’s coming then?” That corner of his mouth lifted back up again and I knew I amused him.

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I might have made that up.”

“It’s okay. You weren’t exactly in an ideal situation. I know I can look scary.”

My gaze scanned his face. Scary? I knew he was probably joking, but he did have that certain edge to him. A dangerous vibe with his tattoos and piercing. Even if he was hot. He was like the dark vampire in movies that girls obsessed over. The ones that were torn between eating the girl and kissing her. I always preferred the nice mortal guy and never understood why the heroine didn’t go after him. I didn’t do dark, dangerous, and sexy. You don’t do anyone. I shoved the whisper back, batting it away. If the right guy—the one I wanted—noticed me, all that would change.

“I wouldn’t say scary … exactly.” He chuckled softly.

“Sure you would.”

Silence hovered between us for a moment. My gaze swept over him. The comfortable-looking T-shirt and well-worn jeans were casual. Guys wore them every day on campus, but he didn’t look casual. He didn’t look like any guy I ever saw around campus. He looked like trouble. The kind that girls lost their heads over. Suddenly my chest felt too tight.

“Well, thanks again.” Offering up a small wave I ducked back inside my car. He watched me turn the key. Thankfully smoke didn’t billow up from the hood.

Driving away, I refused to risk a glance back in my rearview mirror. If Emerson had been with me, I’m sure she wouldn’t have left without his phone number.

Eyes on the road again, I felt perversely glad she wasn’t there.

Australiababble #2

As promised here is another blog post from Amanda Prowse’s Australia series. We had the pleasure of meeting Amanda last week and we can confirm that she is as lovely and funny in person as she is on her blog.

“I’m in AUSTRALIA!!!! Wooohooo! Arrived yesterday morning (I think) and it’s now the day after (I think) – I actually have no concept of day or time, but it doesn’t matter – I made it and after my initial 24 hour explore I am love with this city! I have loved places before and undoubtedly will again, but what I wasn’t prepared for and have rarely experienced, is that Sydney loves me back!

So, what has my first whizz around the city revealed? It’s full beautiful people. Seriously where are all your uglies? Is there an exclusion zone? A curfew? Everywhere I look there are leggy, clear skinned lovelies of both sexes, flashing perfect teeth and looking at peace with the world! In the UK, if 10 is ‘stunner’ I think realistically I hover around the 3 mark – on a good day. But here in Sydney – I’m reduced to a 1-2!

I’ve worked out why everyone is so fit. The Oz coinage is big and heavy, Russell Crowe doesn’t work out, he just carries a lot of cash around, which would do it.

Highlights so far, the Botanical Gardens – stunning, manicured, but with signs inviting me to ‘smell the roses, hug the trees and picnic’ on the immaculate grass. What’s the catch? I have grown up surrounded by signs telling me the exact opposite! I must say as a bit of a rule breaker, it took some of the thrill away.

I’ve strolled along The Finger Wharf, Woolloomooloo – marveling at the shiny yachts in the harbor and watching more beautiful people dining in elegant waterside restaurants.

We lunched at The Andrew (Boy) Charlton pool café, who serve the best thyme-salted fries with aioli and have breakfasted at the Goods on Crown Street where I munched on their delicious home made granola and fresh fruit, washed down with a generous, rich black coffee.

…and then my friends I joined a delightful couple I met from Birmingham UK and a hundred camera bearing Koreans and I stood at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair and looked out. The difference was, while they oohed and aahed and snapped away – I flung my arms out cruciform stylee and shouted at the top of my voice, ‘I am in AUSTRALIA!!!!!’ They then started snapping me as I laughed, cried and jumped up and down on the spot, pointing at the bridge and opera house in the distance. Blame it on jet lag, slight hysteria and the fact that I was actually looking at the sights that I have only seen on the TV and at the movies since I was a little girl. It was beautiful.

In summary, Sydney has the elegance of Cannes, the majesty of Barcelona, is the foodie heaven of New York, with the pace of Bermuda. It is a city with many faces, each one of them smiling at me.”

Amanda Prowse’s Australiababble

One of our very favourite and very lovely authors, Amanda Prowse, is coming to Australia! We loved her post ‘Australiababble’ so much that we had to share it with you all. Keep an eye out for the rest of Amanda’s Australia series here and on her blog.

“So, standing here in the lounge in my pyjamas with the ironing board and a mountain of clean but crumpled laundry filling the room. The kids are on the computer thingy, demanding bacon and my husband is ankle deep in paperwork, just a normal Sunday really, only it isn’t. For tomorrow we are off to AUSTRALIA!!!

I am beyond excited and more than a little apprehensive.  All those hours on a plane? Really? I am planning a strategy that involves movie watching and lots of wine.

I am ashamed to admit to an appalling level of ignorance when it comes to Oz. Every image I have in my head is conjured from the stereotypical and clichéd.  Barbeques – Beaches – Dame Edna (who I think would make a superb monarch when the queen abdicates) – Cricket (not that we will be mentioning THAT!) – Rugby (or THAT either!) – Koalas – Shane Warne’s forehead – Ayers Rock and of course the pocket sized beauty that is Kylie.

Don’t judge me. I grew up in inner city London in a large, chaotic family and our idea of a holiday was a sticky fingered fish and chip suppers in our coats and scarves while sitting on the wall at Southend-On-Sea, followed by a night, still in our coats and scarves, in me nan’s dripping caravan.  Yes, it’s was as glamorous as it sounds. Now since I’ve been a grown up, a fact that I don’t like to admit, I have of course done a bit, The West Indies, Europe, The US of A and of course my beloved Bermuda. But the other side of the world??  Not until now.

Geography is not my strong point; in fact other than writing books, I have very few talents of note. A friend of ours was moving to Oz, Cairns to be specific and I sent his details to an acquaintance in Sydney, suggesting it might be nice to hook up for a coffee to make him feel welcome… My friend in Sydney replied by sending me a map with two big fat red X’s on it, showing that coffee was highly unlikely as they weren’t even in the same time zone! Who knew?

I know there is a beach in Sydney, which simultaneously fills me with dread and excitement.  In most lights, I am more Rebel Wilson than Elle Macpherson.  This isn’t really a problem living in Blighty – although in fairness, we have had a wonderful summer it was August 14th between 11.30am and 3.45pm. Oh we went crazy! I made ice in the fridge and drank my milk on the patio; I even rolled up the sleeves on my cardi.

So, Australia bound and very excited, what to pack? Do they have Starbucks? Asda? I shall let you know.”

We Love Colleen McCullough’s Bittersweet

It’s not often that we encourage you to read non-Avon books but we have had to make an exceptBittersweetion for Colleen McCullough’s Bittersweet.  An Australian saga at its best, Bittersweet incorporates history, drama and romance in a beautiful and compulsively readable story about four very different sisters who are united in their fierce love for one another and in their quest for happiness. We think it’s brilliant! And we’re not alone in our thinking. Haylee Nash, Booktopia’s romance specialist and self-confessed lover of hot men, sassy women and sizzling sexual tension was more than satisfied by Bittersweet. Nash admits that this was her first taste of Colleen McCullough, having been put off by the sheer size of her books. But she insists she needn’t have worried stating that the book was “utterly engaging” with “great depth of information and description” making it a “gorgeous historical saga”. Read the full review here.