The Savoy was wonderful, not least because Nell won the Romance prize.

It was a day of firsts for me. First time getting baby on a train and in a cab and in a bus. First time leaving baby with a babysitter (the saintly Biddy). First time putting on high heeled shoes since last July. First time being at the Savoy when not pregnant and therefore able to drink champagne with my editors. First time breastfeeding baby in the posh ladies’ loos at the Savoy.

All these firsts make you so much more confident. I know, now, that I can travel to London with a pushchair, and how to find routes around the city. I know that the Fecklet will behave himself with a non-parent, and that he will come out safely on the other side even though I’m not watching him breathe.

It wasn’t my first time getting my breasts out in public, not by a long shot, but it was definitely the first time in such elegant surroundings. (Ann Summers van notwithstanding.)

By the time I got home I was utterly exhausted and I spent yesterday doing little but sloping around the house grabbing a nap whenever possible.

I’m going away tomorrow until Tuesday, to visit Anna in the Lake District.

I am going to force her to read my book and play with my baby.

It’s incredible what you have to pack when you’ve got a small baby. Pushchair, baby carrier, baby bath, changing mat, bouncy chair, blankets, towels, nappies, moses basket, various emollients, about a ton of clothes as he poops and drools constantly. His equipment weighs at least ten times as much as he does.

I’m leaving my husband at home and he’s going to have a great time in an empty house, playing his guitar and going out and watching as much football and making as much noise as he pleases. (I bet he misses us though….especially as I’m taking his laptop with me.)

Have a great holiday weekend everyone and I’ll catch you when I get back.

Yesterday Fecklet and I went to visit my friend Harriet and her two children, a boy aged three and a girl aged about twenty months. Fecklet was fractious, so we went for a walk to the swings and then as a special treat, to the fire station round the corner from Harriet’s house, for the children to see the fire engines, and for the mums to see the firemen.

So we wheeled the pushchairs to the station, walking slowly and peering through the windows at the engines. And the long-haired fireman playing his long hose over the surface of one of them. We couldn’t get much of a view, so we went round to the side, where Harriet’s three-year-old was very excited by a forklift that kept on coming by.

Then the long-haired fireman appeared, and asked us, with a smile, whether we wanted to take a look at the engines. Of course Harriet and I said yes, telling the children how lucky they were, all the time checking out the fireman and his snug-fitting t-shirt, his well-developed arms. (Well, I was. Harriet is more dignified.)

When we got to the engine, the three-year-old boy was too frightened to climb aboard and wanted to go home, much to our disappointment. Fireman promised we could come back any time, and said goodbye to us, with a definite wink in my direction. I held back my giggles long enough to get out of sight, and then squealed to Harriet, “He winked at me!!!!”

I tell you I am learning a lot about how to stay sane as a parent.

The party was great fun.

The first part of the evening was characterised by being subtly mocked by indulgent males. Anna, Biddy and I got ready at Biddy’s sister’s flat, and her friend Matt turned up to make us encouraging cups of tea and laugh at the various preparations and neuroses that women go through in glamming up for a party. Although the venue wasn’t very far, we had to take a cab because of my extra 30 lbs of baby, and that cab driver found that very amusing. (Yeah, wait till HE’S eight months pregnant.) Then as soon as we walked through the doors of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers (where the party was held), the male porter immediately piped up with, “Are you romantic novelists?” He was deriving great enjoyment from asking this question of every woman who walked in the door.

The party was in the library, a lovely space where I quickly found a leather couch next to an electric fan. Conveniently it was directly in front of the door from whence the wait staff were emerging with canapes.

I talked to huge amounts of people and there were plenty of people I would have liked to talk with more. The Mills & Boon editors as always are so much fun; I cornered my Headline editor and told her all about how much in love with my new hero I am (see post below); my agent grabbed me and introduced me to lots of people, notably an editor who is interested in having a look at the erotic science fiction romantic comedy, CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, I wrote with Kathy Love.

The baby loves the sound of conversation and he spent the evening kicking merrily, which was a little disconcerting for me because it was clearly visible underneath my dress.

The best part of the evening was how lovely everyone was, my old friends, the professionals I work with, the new people I met. Oh and the mushroom canapes in filo dough. Yum.

Wow, what a result! Cataromance had their Reviewers’ Choice Award ceremony last night and it was excellent!

I was actually out in London with Biddy and Jenny when the winners were announced. We went to Chinatown and had a huge Vietnamese meal, and then hung out in The Intrepid Fox in Soho, surrounded by goths and rockers. Jenny and I argued over who would have the Capt. Jack Sparrow lookalike and the Chris Cornell (lead singer of Soundgarden) lookalike, both behind the bar. Jenny said she was single and therefore had precedence in picking up men. I said I am six months pregnant and at the mercy of my hormones and therefore had precedence in picking up men.

In the end we didn’t get Chris or the Captain. Instead a Czech guy came up and asked me if I was “gravity with child” and if I loved the father of my baby (I answered yes to both, though I was guessing what he meant by the first question), and Biddy and Jenny were approached by some skinny guy who was going to Germany with his unsigned band, apparently to make it big somehow.

To escape our admirers, we took a cab to Tesco’s, picked up cheesecake, and went straight to Biddy’s to check the Cataromance awards. Imagine my delight when I found the results!

Kate Walker won best M&B Modern for The Italian’s Forced Bride
Kate Hardy won best M&B Medical for Her Celebrity Surgeon
Michelle Styles won Best M&B Historical for The Gladiator’s Honour
Liz Fielding won Best M&B Tender for The Five-Year Baby Secret
And I won Best M&B Modern Extra for Featured Attraction!

I’m off to the USA this morning.

I’m very excited about this trip–despite the fact that I’m a little bit worried, too, because my butt tends to start to ache badly when I sit down for an hour, so the plane is going to be seven hours of butt-ache. First, I’m going to visit Kathy Love who is one of my favourite people in the universe. We’re going to play with her daughter, hang out by her in-laws’ pool, and go shopping for clothes. She’s also going to force me to watch every single episode of Supernatural, because she is just slightly obsessed with Jensen Ackles.

We might also do a bit of work on our next collaborative book, a paranormal erotic romantic comedy, which has a premise so funny it makes me choke every time I think about it.

Then we’re going to the Romance Writers of America’s national conference in Atlanta. This is always exciting but it’s going to be particularly so this year because:
a) Kathy’s been nominated for a Prism award for her book Fangs for the Memories so we get to go to a party for that;
b) Kathy and I have finalled in Passionate Ink’s Stroke of Midnight contest with our co-written manuscript Close Encounters so we get to go to a party for that;
c) my friends Anna Sugden and Christine Zampi are both Golden Heart finalists and we get to cheer them on;
d) Harlequin’s party is at the Ritz;
e) I have packed my “I Love John Cusack” t-shirt to wear at eHarlequin’s pajama party;
f) I’m doing my very first literacy signing with Being a Bad Girl and Delicious.

The last thing worries me, nearly as much as the butt-ache. It’s my first signing and my books aren’t out in the US. I’m really really really hoping I won’t be sitting alone and stranded the whole time.

Please please please anybody who reads this and is going to Atlanta–come see me! I will have chocolate and you won’t have to buy a book. Just look like you might to give the illusion that I am not desperately unpopular.

After that, I’m going up to Maine to see my family and do some swimming, sailing, and general lazing around whilst eating as much of my mother’s wonderful cooking as I possibly can.

I’ll be dropping in with updates as regularly as I can get to the internet. Have a good week everyone and I’ll be back soon!

I’m back from the conference. I haven’t had much time to reflect on it, though, because I got back last night and this morning I had to go pick up the proofs for Spirit Willing at the post office depot where they had been delivered in my absence and read them through for corrections as quickly as possible because they were supposed to be back today. Also, my Headline editor needed a premise for my next book because she has to brief the art department and this entailed frantically writing down my idea for the next book which I was totally sure sucked and then sending it to Kathy who said it didn’t suck and then having a phone conversation with my agent who assured me that it didn’t suck and then sending them to my editor who, if I am very lucky, will ring me and tell me tomorrow that it doesn’t suck.

Also there was no food in the house, which isn’t very unusual, but it’s not a good thing when you’re pregnant and cranky. Also I had a Romancing the Blog post due for tomorrow. Also my husband is coming home around midnight from his tour with James Morrison and I haven’t seen him for about a week. Also this place is a total mess, which is completely my fault. Also I had to book some flights to Maine before the price went up. Also I had to spend about an hour staring at my belly because the baby has started kicking and it looks like somebody is poking me from the inside with a stick.

So it’s been a busy day and I’m sorry that I haven’t managed to post an account of the RNA conference. Michelle Styles has, though, and so has Amanda Ashby. Probably some other people have too but I haven’t read those yet.

When I have a minute to breathe I’ll write more about the conference (I did write about it, a little bit and in a joking way, for my RTB post tomorrow)–or, what’s more likely, refer you to people who have written about it better than I.

Today’s the last day of school (MY LAST DAY AS A FULL-TIME TEACHER, hooray!!), and then I’m offf to the RNA conference in Penrith this afternoon.

I can’t wait. It will be so wonderful to see all my friends and to go to the workshops. I’m between books, and I’m not giving a workshop, so I intend to drink in all of the creative talent and let it inspire me.

I’ll be visiting a couple days with Anna afterwards, in the glorious Lake District. So I’ll be back to this blog on Wednesday, no doubt starstruck and delirious.

When I come back I’ll be announcing the winner of my contest and I’ll have photos to share, along with the golden advice I’ve heard from RNA authors.

See you next week!

(PS The Pigeon Book is going to be called Driving Him Wild and it’ll be out in February 2007.)

I have decided that from now on I am going to live at the Savoy. Each morning I will be awakened by a handsome room service guy bearing a porcelain pot of tea, croissants, and a bud vase with a single white rose. I will spend the day swanning from one immaculately-presented room to another, being served exquisite food by handsome waiters, and having doors held open for me by handsome doormen. In the evenings I will sip champagne cocktails (poured by handsome bartenders) and exhibit myself in a series of flawless outfits.

I guess I will probably write some books, as well. Imagine how much more glamorous my stories will be, how exciting the characters, how dazzling and sophisticated the prose. Hell, I might even reach a 6th grade reading level.

Anyhow I have reached this conclusion after Thursday’s gilded dream of a day. I do so love making my way down the Strand towards the Savoy, and having the door opened for me by a besuited and behatted doorman. As usual the RNA crowd were beautifully turned out and I had a brilliant time hobnobbing with the romance world. As I limited my champagne intake I even remember all of it, and will doubtless blog more about it later.

I especially remember the green pair of shoes which I spotted in Top Shop whilst wafting gracefully down the Strand. My God were they beautiful. I bet they will be perfect to wear when I move in to the Savoy permanently.

Meanwhile, today I mowed the lawn and hit a brick by mistake.

Today is the luncheon for the Foster Grant Romantic Novel of the Year award, at the Savoy, in London. It’s a very glamorous occasion and I must admit I go there to unashamedly schmooze (splitting some infinitives while I’m at it because if you’re at the Savoy you can do whatever you like, darling, as long as it’s not a fashion error).

Kate Hardy is up for the Romance prize this year and I will be cheering her on until I go hoarse.

I’ll also be seeing my friends Kate Walker and her husband the Babe Magnet, quite a few Mills & Boon editors (bearing champagne no doubt), my agent, some mystery schmooze targets (yes, I have a list of people to schmooze with, I am pathetic), and of course the glamorous, witty, and charming RNA members themselves, who are absolutely awesome people to party with.

I’m going to wear a pair of red shoes.

Wow, thank you to the many, many people who posted to wish me a happy birthday yesterday.

I had a great day, filled with friends, flowers, and food–most notably the three-tier carrot cake I spent most of yesterday morning baking. Mr Bana didn’t show up, but the husband did send the most amazing bouquet of flowers ever.

Appropriately, too, this review for BEING A BAD GIRL was posted on Cataromance, and because it’s my birthday present, I’m going to post it in full:

Being a Bad Girl is the second novel by Julie Cohen for Mills and Boon Modern Romance Extra and just like its predecessor, Featured Attraction, it is a gripping tale which cleverly combines fantastic characters, sizzling passion and emotional intensity in a novel which will head straight for your keeper shelf!

Marianne Webb is tired of her perfect life. She is tired of her perfect job, her perfect family and her so-called perfect fiancé, so she decides to leave her life in a small town in South Carolina for a fresh start in Portland, Maine, where she will be a bartender at her cousin Warren’s bar. With a bachelor auction taking place the night she’s working at the bar, Marianne decides that the time has come for her to discover her wild side and when she spots a gorgeous hunk straddling a motorcycle, Marianne decides to bid all her money on this man who she can’t take her eyes off!

The sexy biker is actually none other than Oz or Dr. Oscar Strummer who is a respected clinical psychologist and a pillar of the community and he’s stunned that Marianne has bid three thousand dollars for a date with him – and he’s even more stunned by Marianne. She’s the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen, but he wonders what Marianne’s reaction will be to him when she learns that this Hell’s Angel is actually a respectable citizen.

But Marianne cannot deny the attraction which she feels towards Oz nor can she deny the fact that she’s slowly falling in love with him. The psychologist in Oz cannot help but wonder what Marianne is running away from and whether her past will prevent her from spending her future with him.

Julie Cohen is simply fantastic! Her books are sexy, funny and riveting from beginning to end. She will suck you into her story from the very beginning and you absolutely cannot help but fall in love with Oz who is perfect hero material. He’s sexy and charismatic, but he’s also so sweet that you just cannot resist him. Marianne is a fantastic heroine you will root for- she’s feisty, sassy but has a vulnerability which you can relate to and Julie Cohen creates such richly drawn characters, that it will be a struggle to say goodbye to them when you reach the last page.

Being A Bad Girl is a captivating tale teeming with great characters, sparkling dialogue, heartfelt emotion and sexual tension that is simply electrifying. Julie Cohen just keeps getting better and better with every book and I absolutely cannot wait for her next one!

…Click on a thumbnail for a bigger photo…

From left clockwise: Kate Walker, Anna Lucia, Jenny, me, Stephen Wade (aka the Babe Magnet), and Biddy Coady at dinner before the party

Glam Kate, Anna, and Jenny. We went to a Chinese noodle bar and were very slightly overdressed. I also had two garbage bags full of popcorn, which I shoved behind my seat as I ate roast duck with ho fun soup

Popcorn, chocolate-covered raisins, and Stephen Wade, who is probably fantasising about being locked in a cinema

Stephen Bowden aka Wenlock, Rosie Mitchell aka Swan of Kennet, and Miranda. You know, before I became a writer I didn’t have so many friends with aliases

Kate discussing her next two Sicilians over champagne with her editor Maddie Rowe

Me doing a reading from Being A Bad Girl. At this point I am realising I will have to say the word “nipples” aloud in front of about forty people

My Reading friends look on in amazement as I describe strip “Go Fish”. Emma actually has her hand to her face in shock, whilst Carlton looks merely bored

My school colleagues (and Miranda) thinking “This woman teaches children?!?!”

Neighbours Paul and Steve, however, love hearing all the sexy stuff

Bob of Reading Writers listens next to Mills & Boon editorial director Karin Stoecker and editor Jo Carr

With thanks to Anna for the photos!

Rosie, who is actually a proper photographer, has also posted some photos here, which she took on her phone, capturing many more people than I photographed–including my lovely editor Katinka and also a shot of my most excellent gold sparkly shoes.