It All Starts Here—But Where Exactly Is Here?

Today, I'm welcoming debut author Collette Cameron, whose book, Highlander's Hope, is releasing this month through Soul Mate Publishing.
She's addressing the question--

Where do you write?

The writing cave, the home office or den, on the couch or kitchen table with family chaos all around? Perhaps you commute by train or bus, or you trot off to the local library, writer’s room, or café. I so admire those writers who can tap into their muse regardless of their surroundings. I have a friend that writes at Starbucks. I don’t know how she does it.

I can write my blogs at work—on lunch and breaks—and I’m not bothered at all. My novels are a different story. I get so deep into them; any outside noise is a distraction. I can’t have the T.V. on or even music with lyrics playing. No location is off limits to me for scribbling notes, but my really creative writing takes place in my shabby chic writing room.

I haven’t always had my writing room.

For the first year and a half I wrote, I sequestered myself in the den. . . . Otherwise known as my hubby’s man cave. That’s where Highlander’s Hope  (May 2013 from Soul Mate Publishing) and The Viscount’s Vow (SMP Fall 2013) made it from my imagination to the page. His gun cabinet is in there, as are four mounted deer and a stuffed pheasant. Trust me when I tell you, five pairs of mournful eyes staring at me didn’t do a whole lot for inducing romantic creativity! The room is decorated in an outdoorsman theme and “manly” colors. It was supposed to be hubby’s personal space, but I commandeered it.

That changed last fall. With two empty bedrooms upstairs, I decided to create my own space. I let go with every creative thing I’ve ever wanted to do in a room. There was no holding back—no holds barred. I made it totally feminine, romantic, pink and white, roses, teacups, candles, doilies, lace, Regency and Victoriana everywhere. I have a floral patterned overstuffed armchair where I can curl up and read by the light of an antique floor lamp. On the floor is a blue and pink hand-hooked, seventy-five year old rug. The pattern? Roses, of course.

I even have a plush, pink doggy bed for the doxies. My writing room over-the-top obnoxious, and I love it!

My twenty-one year old son wanted to take a gander at his old bedroom. He walked in, stood speechless for a moment, then shook his head and said, “I hate it—but it’s absolutely you.”

I wasn’t sure how to take his comment until he clarified that the room was much too girly for him, but my new writing room reflected my frou frou tendencies to a tee. And it does. I shed all my other roles when I’m in there. I’m Collette Cameron author, and somehow in the environment of my fantasy writing room, I take myself more seriously at a writer.

What about you? Do you have your own special writing spot or do the creative juices flow wherever you’re at?

Well, it’s time to get to  the WIP, The Earl’s Enticement. Or maybe I’ll find something shabby chic to put on the one bare space left on the walls—

Here's a taste of Highlander's Hope for your reading pleasure while we await The Earl's Enticement. 



Highlander’s Hope Blurb:
She was the heiress determined to never marry.

Shipping heiress Yvette Stapleton is wary of fortune hunting men and their false declarations of love. She’d rather become a spinster than imprisoned in the bonds of marriage. At first, she doesn’t recognize the dangerously handsome man who rescues her from assailants on London’s docks, but her reaction to Lord Sethwick’s passionate kisses soon have her reconsidering her cynical views on matrimony.

He was the nobleman who vowed to make her his own.

Not a day has gone by that Ewan McTavish, Lord Sethwick and Laird of Craiglocky, hasn’t dreamed of the sensual beauty he danced with two years ago; he’s determined to win her heart. On a mission to stop a War Office traitor, he unwittingly draws Yvette into deadly international intrigue. To protect her, he exploits Scottish Canon law to declare her his lawful wife—without benefit of a ceremony. Yvette is furious upon discovering the irregular marriage is legally binding, though she never said, “I do.”

Amidst murder and betrayal, Ewan attempts to win Yvette’s forgiveness. But is it too late? Has his manipulation cost him her love?



Interesting, no? How about an excerpt?

A sharp rap echoed at the door. Yvette breathed a sigh. Thank Goodness. Lord Sethwick wouldn’t have to answer the question after all. She raised her head and forced her gaze from the document in his hand.

He stared at her intently, then called, “Enter.”

“Lord Sethwick, please excuse the interruption,” a deep voice greeted. “‘Tis urgent I speak with you.”
Half-turning to look at the newcomer, Yvette could not contain her frightened gasp. She shot halfway out of her chair before Lord Sethwick’s hand snaked across the table and grasped hers, restraining her.

“Ewan!” In her panic, she addressed him by his given name.

“Miss Stapleton, Mrs. Pettigrove, may I introduce my associate, Trenton Carmichael?” said Ewan. “You know him as Nigel Collingsworth.”

Yvette sat down so hard her bottom smacked the chair with a stinging thud. Despite the day’s promise to be quite warm, she shivered, chilled to the bone. Searching the viscount’s face she repeated, stunned, “Your associate? I don’t understand. He was chasing me yesterday.”

Mrs. Pettigrove’s gooseberry eyes were round as the moon watching the exchange. “Mr. Collings, er, Carmichael was chasing you, Miss Stapleton?”

No one responded to her probing.

Holding Yvette’s hand, Lord Sethwick explained, “He wasn’t chasing you. Trent was trying to protect you by catching the man who was chasing you.”

“A different man was also chasing you? Whatever for?” Mrs. Pettigrove sounded envious.

Everyone ignored her.

Mr. Carmichael addressed Yvette. “I regret frightening you yesterday. It wasn’t my intent.”

Another knock sounded.

“Come in.” Lord Sethwick was less gracious this time.

Yvette managed not to gawk at the two men who entered the chamber. At least she thought she did. Faith, what handsome men. They must be friends of Lord Sethwick’s. Nobility no doubt.

“Sethwick, you rogue, keeping the arrival of your lovely bride-to-be a secret,” teased a tall gentleman dressed in black from toe to top.


Buy Link:


Book URL: http://smpauthors.wordpress.com/meet-collette-cameron/highlanders-hope-by-collette-cameron/ This is not a "buy" link.

ISBN 9781619351974

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Web site: http://collettecameron.com/
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