Author Interview
Your
series is called “Escape to New Zealand.” Why New Zealand?
I spent 15 wonderful months living and
working in New Zealand, and fell in love with the country. The beauty and
diversity of the landscape (not to mention the seascapes), the Maori culture
and its integration into the country’s life, and, perhaps more than anything,
the people: modest, good-humored, unfailingly polite and hospitable, and so
very funny. I think everyone would like
to escape to New Zealand—I know I did!
On
the same note, why did you decide on rugby players as heroes?
In New Zealand, being an All Black (a member of
the rugby team that represents the country in play against other nations) is
the absolute pinnacle of achievement—what every boy longs to be. But what’s different
is that the players are expected to be model citizens off the field as well.
These young men face so much pressure and are under such a spotlight—it’s a
completely different environment from the U.S. sports world. The combination of
superb athletic achievement and celebrity with the expectation that you’re
still a “regular Kiwi joker” or a “good bloke” makes for fascinating hero
material.
How
many books have you written and which is your favorite?
I’ve just finished my fourth book, Just for Fun. They are all my favorites
while I’m writing them! Here’s how they fall out for me:
Most cathartic to write/favorite hero: Just This Once
Snarkiest banter/most interesting research
(Maori hero): Just Good Friends
Funniest/easiest to write: Just for Now
Sexiest/most heart-tugging: Just for Fun
Do
you see yourself in your heroines? Which of them is most like you?
There’s something of me in all my heroines.
Most like me: absolutely Hannah, in Just
This Once. People say “write what you know,” so I did! That book has a fair
amount of autobiography in it. The funny thing is that some reviewers haven’t
liked her as well as my other heroines (I try not to take it personally!).
They’ve thought her emotional issues should be resolved once she meets our
wonderful hero. If only life worked that way, huh?
Least like me: Kate, from Just Good Friends. I wish I were that confident and tough.
What
surprises your friends about your books?
That they’re so steamy! J
When
did you begin writing?
I’d been a marketing writer for 10 years,
but I never had a thought of writing fiction.
I was on holiday in New Zealand with my husband almost exactly one year ago,
and I had a story unfolding in my head as I so often do. For some reason,
instead of telling myself to stop daydreaming, I let the story continue for
days. I asked my husband, "Do you think I could write a book?" and
being the great guy he is, he said, "Of course!" So I had him stop
the car in Te Kuiti and bought a notebook, paper, and a pen. It was Oh So Scary
to write the first sentence of “Just This Once.” But within two weeks, I was
writing six hours a day on top of my regular job, and I knew this was all I
wanted to do.
How long did it take to complete your
first book?
Six weeks, while working at my “real job.”
(I finished the book and quit the job.) I think up/write/edit a book in about
three months, but that's because I've been a professional writer working to
deadline for so long--writing my own stories is so much more fun, it's just a
matter of keeping up on paper with what's in my head.
I
notice that you’re self-published. Did you try the traditional publishing route
first? Any advice for other writers considering self-publishing?
I queried agents for about 3 months with
"Just This Once," and got requests for more of the book from a few
agents and one publisher. One day in June, I heard back from a very prominent
agent, who'd requested the full manuscript, that she really enjoyed the story,
but that "New Zealand rugby" would be too tough of a hook. An hour
earlier, I'd heard from my doctor, who said, "I'm referring you to the
oncologist, because we can't tell what your tumor is." My first thought
was, thank God my children are grown. And my second was, thank God I have had
the chance to find out what I wanted to do in life, and to do it. The one thing
I knew for sure was that I didn't want to die without publishing my books.
And the other thing I knew for sure was that "New Zealand rugby" was
a GREAT hook! I finished writing "Just for Now" two days before going
into the hospital and started editing again seven days after surgery. I decided
that I still didn't want to die without publishing my books, so within a month,
I’d published all three! And by the way: I’m not dying anytime soon, unless I
get hit by a truck—lots more time, I hope, to write lots more books!
We’re living in a wonderful time when you
can see for yourself if your book has “sales appeal” or not. Why not give it a
try and see? The risk and cost are low--professional editing and cover design,
an author website. The dream, of course, is to get that lucrative publishing
contract—but whether or not that happens, doing it this way is working great
for me so far, and I’m so very thankful to have the opportunity to share my
work with so many people.
What
have you learned from writing and publishing your books?
Life is all about taking risks. Anything
that’s worth doing is going to be scary. The trick is to feel the fear and go
ahead and do it anyway. Fall in love, write a book, pursue your dreams. That’s
the underlying theme of my books, and my life.
Title: Just For Fun
Author: Rosalind James
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Series: Escape to New Zealand #4
Date Published: December 8th 2012
Synopsis
What if the person who broke your heart turned out to be the only one who could mend it?
Nic Wilkinson is a responsible, organized, disciplined rugby player at the top of his game. Emma Martens is a sometimes-scattered, often-emotional, and always-broke would-be designer with a big chip on her shoulder where Nic’s concerned.
They have no history together, except one perfect week. Nothing in common anymore, except the most important thing of all.
Excerpt
“Mum!” Zack burst in through the front
door. “It was brilliant!” He kicked his shoes off impatiently, dropped his
rugby boots next to them before struggling out of his jacket. Nic followed him
in, grabbed the jacket and hung it on the brightly painted rack next to the
door when Zack would have dropped it on the floor.
Emma reached out for a hug that, Nic
saw, the boy was still willing to give his mother, at least here at home. Her
eyes met Nic’s as she looked over her son’s head. How did she always look so
soft? So . . . pettable? She was wearing another sweater, that was all, he told
his troublesome libido. Another light, lacy one, prettily trimmed once again. A
pale pink cardigan with pearly shell buttons, edged in cream, over a long
stretchy top and leggings. She looked like an invitation to cuddle. Like the
best blankie ever.
“Can Nic stay for dinner, Mum?” Zack
asked excitedly, offering a welcome distraction from his wayward train of
thought. “He could help me tell you all the things we did. We’re having
spaghetti!” he told Nic. “It’s really good.”
“Can’t, mate. Sorry,” Nic put in hastily
at Emma’s instinctive shake of the head. “But I’ll have a glass of water, if
one’s on offer.”
“Sit down,” Emma told him. “Please.”
Nic slipped off his own shoes before
heading to the couch with Zack. “Cheers,” he said as she came back from the
kitchen to hand each of them a glass, then took her own seat in a small
armchair next to the couch, the only other option the little room offered.
“You look tired,” she said abruptly.
“And bruised. Are you OK?”
“Just a bit confused on the sleep
schedule, still,” Nic admitted. “I took a wee pill on the flight home, but it
never works that well.”
“It’s a long way, Mum,” Zack put in.
“South Africa’s really far.”
Nic took a long drink of the cold water,
looked around for something to set the glass on. “Coaster?”
“Just put it down,” Emma told him.
“Don’t want to spoil this,” he said,
looking more closely at the coffee table. The simple rectangle had been
transformed into a forest of ferns, with native birds peeping out from
underneath fronds, perched in trees. The parson-throated tui making a meal of
red fruit, the colorful, stumpy takahe on the forest floor, tiny fantails
darting overhead.
“You can’t,” Emma assured him. “It’s all
enamels. Everything in this house is pretty indestructible.”
“Did you find the ruru yet?” Zack asked
him, leaning forward.
“Don’t tell me,” Nic said. “Let me
look.” Zack watched him eagerly as he searched and finally pointed triumphantly
to a notch in a tree where the owl blended into the bark. “There.”
“You did this too, eh,” he asked Emma.
“Nice.”
“I did everything. That’s my decorating
theme. Things I made.”
“I like it,” he assured her. The warm
colors of the lounge seemed to cocoon them. Two walls were a rich caramel, the
others a warm yellow. She didn’t even paint every wall in a room the same
color, he realized. Well, at least in the kitchen it was all the same. Purple.
He wondered what color her bedroom was. How it looked. And found himself
wishing, against every better impulse, that he could see it.
Author Bio

Rosalind James is the author of the Kindle bestseller Just This Once and the three subsequent books in the Escape to New Zealand series. She is a former marketing executive who has lived all over the United States and in a number of other countries, traveling with her civil engineer husband. Most recently, she spent several years in Australia and New Zealand, where she fell in love with the people, the landscape, and the culture of both countries.
Visit www.rosalindjames.com to listen to the songs from the books, follow the characters on their travels, watch funny and fascinating New Zealand and rugby videos, and learn about what's new!
Author Links
Author: Rosalind James
Genre: Contemporary Romance
What if the person who broke your heart turned out to be the only one who could mend it?
Nic Wilkinson is a responsible, organized, disciplined rugby player at the top of his game. Emma Martens is a sometimes-scattered, often-emotional, and always-broke would-be designer with a big chip on her shoulder where Nic’s concerned.
They have no history together, except one perfect week. Nothing in common anymore, except the most important thing of all.
Excerpt
“Mum!” Zack burst in through the front
door. “It was brilliant!” He kicked his shoes off impatiently, dropped his
rugby boots next to them before struggling out of his jacket. Nic followed him
in, grabbed the jacket and hung it on the brightly painted rack next to the
door when Zack would have dropped it on the floor.
Emma reached out for a hug that, Nic
saw, the boy was still willing to give his mother, at least here at home. Her
eyes met Nic’s as she looked over her son’s head. How did she always look so
soft? So . . . pettable? She was wearing another sweater, that was all, he told
his troublesome libido. Another light, lacy one, prettily trimmed once again. A
pale pink cardigan with pearly shell buttons, edged in cream, over a long
stretchy top and leggings. She looked like an invitation to cuddle. Like the
best blankie ever.
“Can Nic stay for dinner, Mum?” Zack
asked excitedly, offering a welcome distraction from his wayward train of
thought. “He could help me tell you all the things we did. We’re having
spaghetti!” he told Nic. “It’s really good.”
“Can’t, mate. Sorry,” Nic put in hastily
at Emma’s instinctive shake of the head. “But I’ll have a glass of water, if
one’s on offer.”
“Sit down,” Emma told him. “Please.”
Nic slipped off his own shoes before
heading to the couch with Zack. “Cheers,” he said as she came back from the
kitchen to hand each of them a glass, then took her own seat in a small
armchair next to the couch, the only other option the little room offered.
“You look tired,” she said abruptly.
“And bruised. Are you OK?”
“Just a bit confused on the sleep
schedule, still,” Nic admitted. “I took a wee pill on the flight home, but it
never works that well.”
“It’s a long way, Mum,” Zack put in.
“South Africa’s really far.”
Nic took a long drink of the cold water,
looked around for something to set the glass on. “Coaster?”
“Just put it down,” Emma told him.
“Don’t want to spoil this,” he said,
looking more closely at the coffee table. The simple rectangle had been
transformed into a forest of ferns, with native birds peeping out from
underneath fronds, perched in trees. The parson-throated tui making a meal of
red fruit, the colorful, stumpy takahe on the forest floor, tiny fantails
darting overhead.
“You can’t,” Emma assured him. “It’s all
enamels. Everything in this house is pretty indestructible.”
“Did you find the ruru yet?” Zack asked
him, leaning forward.
“Don’t tell me,” Nic said. “Let me
look.” Zack watched him eagerly as he searched and finally pointed triumphantly
to a notch in a tree where the owl blended into the bark. “There.”
“You did this too, eh,” he asked Emma.
“Nice.”
“I did everything. That’s my decorating
theme. Things I made.”
“I like it,” he assured her. The warm
colors of the lounge seemed to cocoon them. Two walls were a rich caramel, the
others a warm yellow. She didn’t even paint every wall in a room the same
color, he realized. Well, at least in the kitchen it was all the same. Purple.
He wondered what color her bedroom was. How it looked. And found himself
wishing, against every better impulse, that he could see it.
Author Bio

Visit www.rosalindjames.com to listen to the songs from the books, follow the characters on their travels, watch funny and fascinating New Zealand and rugby videos, and learn about what's new!
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