Contrast and Compare

Coreen's story is done and dusted and sitting on my editor's desk and I don't even want to think about it for a week or two. Thankfully, I have something to distract myself...

My author copies of Three Weddings and A Baby arrived. Since they are being released in M&B's new UK line, Riva, these books have a very different feel to the North American version - which apart from cover, title and blurb is exactly the same book. I thought it'd be fun to contrast and compare:


Three Weddings And A Baby

When three is most definitely a crowd...

Do you believe in love at first sight? Jennie Hunter and Alex Dangerfield did, and they married just a few weeks after they met! But when Alex disappeared on their wedding night Jennie was left alone - and angry - in her honeymoon suite.

A month later and Jennie has given up hope of ever seeing her runaway husband again. Then Alex returns - with a toddler in tow! Shocked to learn Alex has been married before, her first instinct is to run. Her second instinct - well, even a hard-headed businesswoman can't turn away a tiny girl who needs a nappy change and husband with sheer panic in his eyes... Compared to upteen clients one small child will be a doddle...right?


Millionaire's Baby Bombshell

Mollie's miracle - a mommy!

Catching each other's eyes at a glamorous party, Jennie Hunter and charismatic millionaire Alex Dangerfield knew instantly that they were made for each other. One whirlwind romance and an idyllic spontaneous wedding later, Jennie thought all her dreams had come true! Until circumstances conspired against them...

Now Alex is back, with an adorable motherless little girl in tow. And behind his once-sparkling eyes, Jennie can see Alex's despair. Mollie needs a mommy - and Alex needs Jennie, his wife for better or worse, more than ever...

Now there's something you don't see every day...

There are some days I'm pleased I took the bus rather than the tube, and today is one of those.

Never mind the temperature is only just above freezing in London today, as I was sitting on the top deck of a no.38 this morning, I saw this:


Yes, that's right. A whole herd of semi-naked men jogging along New Oxford Street, wearing only trainers, swimming trunks and hats (and smiles!). Sorry about the blurry picture, but I took it on my phone and I was laughing like a drain at the time - as were the rest of my fellow passengers. It caused quite a to-do!

Anyway, when I got home I did a little research on who these brave British lads might have been. (Never thought I'd have cause to type the words "swimming trunks fun run london" into a search engine in my life, but life often surprises you, doesn't it?)

It turns out this was the annual Smugglers' Run - link to a news article about it here. These brave/eccentric/barking mad (delete as appropriate) souls are raising money for male charities at the same time as raising female temperatures across the captial. Good on yer, lads.

Stolen Snowman

Yesterday, in Chatham, Kent a woman phoned 999 to report the theft of her snowman. Yes, she really did. I'm not joking - click here for the full story.

Now, if you can get past the utter stupidity of asking the police to investigate something like this, when they are probably busy enough dealing with all the snow-related problems this week's unexpected weather has brought the UK, you might want to ask yourself the following:

What on earth did she expect them to do about it?

Seriously. I understand that she was upset about something she must have spent ages creating being nicked, but realistically, what did she want the police officers to do? Did she want the police to canvas the road to see where the missing snowman might be? There must be hundreds of them in front gardens all over Chatham today - if not thousands. How on earth would they know which one was hers? I can imagine it now...

Policeman 1: That's him!

Policeman 2: No. No, it isn't. He's only got three pebble buttons down his front and our missing person had four. And the carrot nose isn't long enough.

Policeman 1: Maybe, but one of the buttons might have come off, and our victim did say the one we were looking for was wearing a distinctive pink and white scarf. The pattern is exactly the same...

Oy.

Which leads my errant brain onto all sort of stupid ideas, such as snowmen identity parades...


Somebody stop me. I've got to get back to work and finish editing this book.

And I'm over at the Pink Heart Society today, blogging about one of my guilty pleasures and justifying my need to slouch on the sofa with a bar of chocolate and a glass of wine...