It’s the Ludlow Hall Sneak Peek…. Peace…



It’s Friday… and time for the Ludlow Hall sneak peek!

Time for a pow-wow at The Dower House…

Bronte, Rosie and Janine had just finished a Sweet Sensations business meeting in Bronte’s kitchen-dining-living space. Eve and Boo are building a tower with huge plastic bricks, and Jimmy Chew was snoozing on his doggie bed, exhausted after a hectic morning with the Ferranti kids.

A fresh pot of coffee sat on the worktop, along with a large plate of mini-muffins, white chocolate and fudge, ready for the hungry hordes who are sure to descend at any moment. The place smells of fresh coffee, spun sugar, chocolate and fresh flowers.

Bronte, dressed in black stretchy pants and an oversized ribbed polo neck cashmere sweater the color of apricot, stretched, rolled her shoulders and wiggled toes all toasty inside thick socks. “In spite of replacing a double oven, we’re well in the black.”

Janine, wearing skinny blue jeans and a white T-shirt beneath a pale grey hoodie, closed her laptop with a satisfied snap. “Yup and our tax reserve account can handle those inland revenue new changes that come into force at the end of April, so we’re cool.”

Rosie, comfy in her usual black yoga pants and huge matching sweater, snuggled a rosy-cheeked Mila who was in the middle of teething hell.

“Thank goodness you have a business brain, Jan. Those excel spreadsheets make my eyes bleed.”

Jan grinned. “And yet I can’t bake or cook the way you two can. Poor Josh fires up his grill more times than not.”

Bronte scooped up Mila and popped a soft kiss on her hot cheek. “Josh loves his grill.”

Rosie, busy with a spoon and Calpol, had to agree. “I’ve never seen a BBQ that big and shiny. I caught Josh patting it once.”

Jan had to laugh. “He calls it darling. How are you this morning, darling.”

Mila opened her mouth like a good girl and took all her medicine, and then snuggled right in for a cuddle with her auntie Bronte.

Eve, dressed in thick tights the color of cream beneath a smocked dress of navy velvet, spotted her mama with her cousin and toddled over to give Mila a hug.

Her little hand patted Mila’s leg. “Aww, poorly, mama?”

“Just a little bit. She has sore teeth.”

“Kiss it better?”

Bronte shifted so Eve could drop a soft kiss on Mila’s cheek.

Then Eve went back to construction with Boo.

“Eve’s speech is coming on,” Rosie said as she topped up their coffees from the pot.

“Yup, better than Batman every five minutes. We all got tired of it after a while.”

“Talking of the super-heroes, where are they?”

Bronte lifted her eyes to heaven.

“Upstairs. Emily and Sophia are quiet, so I’ll check on them in a minute. The boys are watching a movie. Luca’s got a cold.”

“Another one?”

Bronte nodded a response to Jan. “Yup. Third one this winter. Doctor can’t find anything wrong with him, except he’s had a growth spurt. Poor child.”


She’d just finished speaking when the poor child in question barrelled through the door, and by the fierce look on his flushed face, he was not happy.

Wearing navy sweatpants and a grey UCLA hoodie, Luca Ferranti, stood with his legs spread on bare feet and folded his arms. “Mama!” he said, his throat scratchy and rough. “Sophia and Emily won’t let me play with their campfire.”

Rosie, dark brown eyes went wide and blinked.

Her fist pressed against her heart.


Jan shook her head. “No. It’s a campfire made of fabric cushions designed as stones, flames and logs.”

Rosie turned amazed eyes on her friend. “You made them a campfire?”

“She did,” Bronte said. “The girls had seen it on Amazon and Jan reckoned she could make it for less, and you know what she’s like, she did. AND she made them a wigwam, too. You should see it.”

Luca turned to Jan, his dark eyes pleading. “Sophia said that they’re playing Pocahontas and I can’t play because I have a… I have a… a… willie.”

Bronte ignored Rosie’s snort of laughter.

“Did she use exactly that word?”

Luca’s gaze flicked to his mother.

He shook his head.

“What word did she say?”

He shook his head again, this time so hard his dark curls bounced.

“Uh-uh. If ever I tattle-tale again, Sophia said that she’ll divorce me and I can speak to the hand.”

Jan, wiping her eyes, cleared her throat. “The hand?”

Luca held up his hand in the universal sign for stop.

“She put it right in my face.”


And just at that moment, two Pocahontas sauntered into the room.

Rosie had to laugh.

Sophia and Emily looked amazing.

Both wore black long wigs, head bands with brightly colored feathers stuck in the back, and two cute mustard colored fringed dresses over their leggings. The dresses had lots of multi-colored glass beads sewn on them. But it was the war paint on their faces that made her grin like a loon. She turned laughing dark eyes on Jan. “Did you make those outfits, too?”

Jan shrugged. “I have the best time practising this stuff on these two.”

Sophia marched up to her brother, got right up into his space, tipped her head back, and said. “HOW!”

Luca simply glared into her eyes, there was notta lotta love between the siblings at the moment.

Sophia made an are-you-beyond-stupid face. “You’re supposed to say, HOW back. It’s how an American Indian say hello.”

“I don’t need to say hello to you. I know who you are. The sister from hell,” Luca’s sore throat by this time was no more than a vehement whisper.

Emily eased her way between the war party and studied Luca’s flushed face.

“You’re sick. You need to see the medicine man,” she said in her soft breathy voice.


Bronte handed Mila to Jan and moved to press the back of her hand to Luca’s forehead.

“Pocahontas is right. Lemme check your temperature.”

“I’m the chief,” Sophia told her brother.

He didn’t look impressed.

“You’re a girl, so how come you’re the chief?”

Bronte, who by this time had found the digital thermometer, slipped it beneath his armpit and told him to sit quietly for five minutes.

Sophia sent him another look, and said, “Equal rights. This is woman’s liberation house. Mama’s the boss, which means I’m an Indian chief.”

By this time, Bronte checked his temperature and nodded.

“It’s up. Calpol for you as well.”

“I don’t like Calpol,” Luca whined.

Undeterred, his mama handed him a glass of water and told him to open his mouth.

After two spoonfuls, and making a horrible face, Luca took his medicine.

Then he sat at the table and simply stared holes through his twin.

Jan moved to stroke his hair.

“Did you really think that I’d made Sophia and Emily a wigwam and forget my Indian brave?”

Luca blinked.

His dark eyes went huge.

“Did you make me a wigwam?”

Jan nodded. “I did. AND I made you a campfire AND a headband and feathers. You can be two tribes.”

“Did you make me a hatchet and I can scalp Pocahontas?”

Jan rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately I didn’t. However, the two tribes might think about peace talks. Come and help me get them out of the car.”

She headed out the door with Luca hot on her heels.

In the boot room he crammed his feet into Wellington boots.

His face beamed as he hefted a huge black plastic bin bag filled with log, stones and flame cushions.

“Can we put the wigwam up in here, Mama?”

Bronte nodded, happy to see his color was better and so was his mood.

“Sure. Knock yourself out. Maybe Tonio could help?”

Luca raced out the room and up the stairs.


Sophia, sitting at the table, drinking a glass of milk and nibbling on a mini-muffin, her emerald eyes watchful as she observed her brother’s excitement, turned to her best friend.

“It might be time for a pow-wow, what do you think?”

Emily, enjoying her milk and mini muffin, her legs swinging under the chair, nodded like a wise owl.

“Okay. We’ll need war paint if we’re going to war with the boy tribe.”

“We’re the Pamunkeys.”

Luca arriving with Tonio in time to hear this, turned to his twin and curled his lip.

“We’re Apaches. Warriors,” he rasped.

Tonio eyed the girls, and grinned.

Emily simply sighed and gazed longingly at her idol.

When she gave Tonio googly eyes, Sophia shook her head.

“If we’re gonna wipe them from the face of the earth, you can’t look at him like that,” she said in a tone of utter disgust.

Emily turned to stare hard at her.

“We’re not going to wipe him from the face of the earth. Aren’t we talking peace?”

Sophia, her gaze on her twin, curled her lip.

“We don’t have a peace pipe.”


Meanwhile, Bronte, listening to the debate with a riveted Rosie and Jan, staged an intervention.

“As the big boss of this house,” she began. “I actually have a genuine peace pipe that the Pamunkeys and Apaches may use if they really and truly want to live in peace.”

Tonio, who by this time was laughing softly, turned to her.

“Seriously? You have a peace pipe?”

Bronte send him a cheesy smile.

“I do. It belonged to my dad. He used to enjoy the odd pipe, and I have one never used before. However, you must all promise me to take very great care with it.”

Luca, who by this time wore his hair band and three feathers, whirled to face her.

“I promise we’ll take good care of it,” he whispered.

“Okay. But, you must come to a peaceful agreement between the tribes.” She turned to a thoughtful looking Sophia, and raised her brows in a silent question. “Well?”

Sophia pursed her lips and turned to Emily.

Emily nodded.

Sophia turned back to her mama. “Okay. We agree to talk peace.”

Tonio rubbed his hands as the wigwam, with the help of Jan, was assembled, along with the campfire.

The two Indian braves, grabbed a couple of big cushions from the couch dropped them next to the campfire and crossed their legs.

“Can we bring down our wigwam and campfire too?” Emily suggested.

Bronte lifted her hands.

“The more the merrier. Need some help?”


Twenty minutes later the family room resembled an Indian settlement with a river (thanks to two blue yoga mats) running through it. On one side were the Pocahontas Pamunkeys and on the other were the Apache braves.

Luca stood, legs spread, on one side of the river and Sophia, arms folded, stood on the other.

“Are you coming to our camp for peace talks, or are we coming across the river to you?”

“We’ll come to you in case you burn our camp to the ground,” Sophia said.

Meanwhile, three year old Boo and Eve appeared to walk on water, carrying a selection of huge bricks back and forth to build their version of a wall.

As Bronte, Rosie watched the peace talks, Jan sewed feathers onto headbands for Boo and Eve to join the tribes.


“It’s absolutely fascinating to watch, isn’t it?” Rosie said, her brown eyes twinkling madly.

“Sophia rules that particular roost,” Bronte muttered.

Jan grinned.

“And she does it so well. We could do with her in parliament, she’d sort that lot out in quick order.”

Raised voices from the peace talks had Bronte clear her throat.


“Don’t be ridicalus,” Sophia said to her twin. “There weren’t iPads in the olden days.”

His eyes shooting daggers right back at her, Luca retorted, “I know that monkey-butt-face. But, we can have Indian music, can’t we?”

“Here’s some flute, forest and river music,” Tonio interrupted, and played it.

Emily, sitting cross legged on a cushion with Jimmy Chew snoring on her lap, began to sway from side to side. “Oooooh, I love it. I feel like I’m in the Rocky mountains.”

On his side of the river, Tonio did a hop-hop-hop dance in time to the drumbeat.


Out of the corner of her mouth, Jan muttered to Rosie who was sneakily videoing  it on her cell phone. “Aren’t they fabulous?”

“Yup. Adorable.”

When the howl of a lone wolf came over flute music, Emily’s eyes grew huge.

“Oh my.”

“And owls,” Sophia whispered.

When more drums and tambourines began, all native Americans got into the spirit of things. At last, an uneasy peace prevailed across the bad lands.


When Nico, Josh and Alexander strolled through the kitchen door, as one they stopped and surveyed the scene.

The lights in the family room were dimmed.

LED candles flickered in the middle of a huge campfire set in the middle of two wigwams. And all the Indian braves were fast asleep, with Jimmy Chew curled up in the middle of the fire that did not burn. Soft meditation nature music played.

And from the looks of things, they’d all had pizza for dinner.

Josh found Boo snoring among the bodies and started to laugh softly.

Bronte popped her head into the kitchen-dining-living space and whispered,

“We’re in here.”

The men tip-toed past those resting, through the hall and into the sitting room where a real log fire sparked and hissed behind a glass screen.

Josh scooped up his woman, sat her on his knee and gave her a hard kiss.

“Love the wigwams and the log fire.”

Jan’s blue eyes danced. “So worth it to see them have such a great time.”

Alexander shrugged off his suit jacket, his tie, and scooped up his sleepy daughter for a kiss. Then he gave one to a Rosie who’d lifted her face in clear invitation.

Meanwhile Nico grabbed Bronte and spun her around.

“Had a busy day?”

“Jan deciphered excel for Rosie and I and then we witnessed peace talks between the tribes. And Luca’s got a sore throat and a temperature.”

Nico made a face.

He turned to his guests.

“Need a drink? Wine? Beers?”

Once he’d served everyone, taken off his suit jacket and tie and reeeeeelaxed in his favorite comfy chair, he raised his glass.

“Here’s to peace.”

Bronte lifted her glass of wine.

“Here’s to Janine, according to Pocahontas, the best auntie in the whole wide world and the universe and beyond.”




Aww, if anyone’s interested there are actually cushions that resemble logs, fire and stones available for sale on Amazon…. just thought you’d like to know!

And for those who need rest, relaxation and probably a glass of wine, here’s the music the kids were listening to:


Christine X

It’s throw back Friday…



Who remembers the music playing in the background of this scene from RECKLESS NIGHTS IN ROME?


A few minutes later, Nico’s car purred to a halt at the back entrance of The Dower house.

He checked the time.

Too early?

Too bad.

Stepping out of the car, the scent of warm apples, sugar and cinnamon poured across his senses.

Pure annoyance fired his blood pressure again.

So she made cakes while he suffered the agonies of hell.

The Dower House throbbed and boomed with the bass of a pop song.

Nico lifted his hand to knock the door and then shrugged.

She’d never hear him over the racket.

Ignoring the little voice that told him he was invading her privacy, he tried the handle and opened the door.

Strolling into the house, he cocked his head.

It appeared Bronte was singing.

Then he thought again.


That noise could never be called singing, more like howling or screeching.

And he winced as she let out an endless shriek that didn’t quite make a long top note.

Nico stepped into the kitchen and every particle of angry frustration drained away.

He couldn’t help the big grin that split his face.

Blissfully oblivious she had an audience to her hips bumping and grinding to Rihanna’s big hit, Bronte stripped off her top, swung it around her head and tossed it.

The sweater sailed high through the air to land at Nico’s feet.

Without taking his eyes from her, he picked it up.

Absently, he rubbed the soft wool between his fingers. Absorbing the warmth from her body and inhaling her scent.

She wore black fitness pants slung low, low on her hips and a short skinny vest.

No bra and bare feet.

Still cheerfully unaware of his presence behind her, Bronte continued to sing her heart out as she shook her booty.

Blonde hair, piled in an incredibly sexy knot on top of head, accentuated a long and delicate neck. Her ears, small and perfect, hugged her scalp.

Nico had to laugh when he spotted a black sock over the kettle and another in the middle of the fruit bowl. Rihanna blasted through the speakers telling everyone to please don’t stop the music.

Please don’t, Nico begged, leaning his shoulder against the door frame to relax and enjoy the show. Guilt that he was witnessing something terribly private dug him hard in the ribs, but Nico ignored it.

He wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

God knew she couldn’t sing but the girl had moves.

Skipping to a fridge, her tight little bottom wiggled in perfect time to the beat and Nico bit down hard on a knuckle.

With a bottle of water as a microphone the fabulous Ms. Ludlow step-touched with a sexy swing of her hips, shook her booty and strutted her stuff.

Spinning round he saw her eyes were closed and that stunning face was flushed with exertion.

She opened her eyes and saw him.

And those fabulous eyes bugged right out of her head.


Jogging frantically on the spot, Bronte Ludlow screamed her lungs out.

Pure reflex had Nico catch the bottle of water that almost beaned him between the eyes.

“You bastard!”

The girl was on him like a wildcat. He was a big man who knew how to handle himself. Bronte was no match for him. The shock that she’d even think to attack him in the first place made him laugh out loud. A big mistake, he realized, when she growled in his ear. A growl that only made him laugh harder. A flying fist caught him on the chin as she clung like a limpet to his back. An arm locked around his neck in a tight strangle hold. Endless legs wound around his waist like a vice.

Cristo, Bronte, stop.”

Roaring with laughter, Nico couldn’t catch his breath.

His eyes watered when Bronte did her level best to rip his hair out of his scalp.

When her teeth sank into his shoulder, he yelled,

“Okay, that is it!”

“How dare you come into my home without warning?” she yelled in his ear. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

She made a determined effort to twist his earlobe off and he’d had enough.

Nico landed back against a wall.

And he heard Bronte’s breath whoosh from her lungs.

He spun, pinned her arms above her head and pressed his body against hers.

Her powerful knee thrust missed unmanning him by a whisker.

Panting now, her eyes spat green fire into his.

The feel of her struggling under him sent blood racing to his shaft.

And he knew he was in big trouble.

Her breath was panting into his mouth as she went utterly still and those green eyes grew wary now.

She trembled and not just from fury.

“Let me go,” she panted. “I mean it.”

Her voice was high as her breath heaved in short bursts and he couldn’t take his eyes from her mouth. Her heart bucked against his and the scent of her shampoo and pure Bronte made his mouth water. A pink tongue licked her top lip and Nico knew he desperately wanted, needed, to taste, to take.

A soft whimper made him look into her eyes and what he saw there, arousal battling with alarm, made him stop.

He’d already taken a misstep with her last night and he wasn’t going to take another with her today.

Chest heaving, Nico released her and stepped back, palms up in a gesture of peace.



Ah, those were the days!

I’m deep in the middle of BREAK THE RULES AND NO RULES.

They’re all coming together!

Christine X

It’s the Ludlow Hall sneak peek…



Happy Tuesday,

I’ve crawled out of my sick bed to bring you this week’s sneak peek a day late. I’m painting a red cross on our front door. Three of us are down with ‘flu, full blown and horrible. Forgive any errata. My brain is fried.



With Alexander as his wingman, Nico’s driving his glossy black Range Rover doing daddy duty. He’s going through a mental check list to make sure he’s not missed anything. The guys have had a busy and productive day. Signed a new deal with the Spanish Ortiz hotel group—check. Then they hit Ludlow Hall’s gym and treadmills to see who’d complete five miles first, Alexander won by a hair—check. Pick up Tonio from after-school science club—check. Swing past a birthday party (another one) to pick up Sophia and Emily—check. Now, they’re on their way to The Dower House where Emily’s having a sleepover with her best friend.

While Alexander texts back and forth with Rosie who’s keeping Bronte company at The Dower House, Nico glances in the rear view mirror to eye the three remarkably silent children sitting in the backseat. Tonio’s eyes are drooping. The boy’s doing well at school and working hard, maybe too hard? Hmm. He’ll talk to Bronte. Little Emily’s big blue eyes are fixed with rapt attention on Tonio’s face. Dio mio, the child has a bad case of hero worship. He shrugs, such is life. Sophia stares unblinking out of the window as she watches the world go by. Hmm. His daughter’s been unusually quiet over the last couple of days. Maybe she’s sickening for something? On the whole, she has the constitution of an ox and avoids colds and sniffles, unlike her twin who’s in bed with an elevated temperature and sore throat.

“My mummy,” Emily begins in her high, girly voice, “says she simply adores baby Eve. She told my daddy the baby’s an absolute cutie pie, a little angel. Then she started to cry.”

This information rouses Tonio, who turns to her. “Why was she crying?”

“She can’t have anymore babies. After me, she had to have an emergency historectomy. Sometimes she gets sad. My daddy says we can try and adapt a baby who has no family.”

“Adopt,” Tonio says in a kind voice that pinks Emily’s cheeks.

In the front, Alexander slides an omigod look to Nico.

Sophia heaves a huge sigh. “There won’t be any more babies in our house,” she says in the tone of the prophet of doom. A tone which makes her uncle Alexander go utterly still.

Since this news is news to her papa, he asks in a soft voice, “Why do you say that, cara mia?

Sophia makes a sad face as she stares out the window. “Because Auntie Rosie says I’m a complete and utter nightmare who’s driving my mama cray-cray. I know that means crazy.” The last part is spoken in a small whisper.

There is dead silence in the car.

Nico and Alexander’s eyes go huge as they stare unblinking at the winding road ahead. Nico opens his mouth, but Alexander places a hand on his arm, shakes his head. Meanwhile, little Emily takes Sophia’s hand in hers.

“My mummy says you have a clever and busy brain and that you’re a very good infloonce on me.”

Sophia turns emerald eyes on Emily. “What’s an infloonce?”

“I think she means influence,” Tonio says. He reaches out to tug gently on Sophia’s white-blonde ponytail. “To be a good influence is a great thing. It means you are beneficial for Emily in an important way.”

Paternal pride is his son makes Nico’s eyes sting.

Christ,” Alexander mutters under his breath. “I need to do daddy duty with you more often. Are they always like this?”

Nico takes a deep breath. “Si. In this car, Auntie Rosie is often quoted chapter and verse.”

Alexander nods at the deadpan tone. His mouth goes hard. “Right. And not always in a good way?”

Nico makes a face. “Sometimes we adults forget that someone has very big ears.”

“I’ll talk to Rosie. She tends to run at the mouth at times.”



Meanwhile, after a busy day at The Dower House…

Dressed down in ankle length yoga pants and over sized sweatshirts, Bronte and Rosie kick back on the couch in the family/kitchen/living space. They’re sipping a cup of camomile tea as they await the arrival of the rest of the family. The sublime scent of a herby chicken roasting permeates the air. “At the very least, you should’ve let me peel the potatoes,” Rosie says, wiggling her toes inside thick socks. “Seriously, Mrs. Ferranti, don’t you ever get sick of yourself. You’re a real life Martha Stewart!”

Bronte grins. “Trust me, that woman’s got nuthin’ on me. I run my world like a well oiled machine. Today I replaced four empty toilet rolls. I am the backbone of this house. I’m like a domestic goddess.”

Rosie nods. “What is it with men and empty toilet rolls? How hard is it to take a fresh roll out of the basket we’ve kindly placed next to the holder (because I’ve taken a leaf out of your book and I’m a beyond awesome domestic goddess) and replace it? What is all that about?”

Bronte glances at the huge clock on the wall, fifteen minutes until she takes the chickens out of the oven. “It’s because their brain is busy with more important stuff, like making a living and keeping us supplied with a steady stream of disposable diapers.”

Rosie nods. “True. Very true.” She cocks her head at the sound of car wheels crunching gravel. “The boys are back. There goes peace, quiet and tranquillity.”

As the family troop in after leaving outdoor shoes in the boot room, Bronte and Tonio share a hug and a high five over a one hundred per cent math test. Nico drops a big smoochie on his wife’s curved mouth, pats her bottom, and heads for the fridge for two beers. Alexander plonks himself next to Rosie, grabs her in a hug. Then he cups her cheek to look deep into big brown eyes. “You got some, ‘splainin’ to do, Rosie.”

Rosie blinks. “What have I done?”

He nuzzles the delicate spot beneath her ear. “Later,” he whispers.

Rosie’s bemused frown turns to a grin when she spots Sophia. She holds out her arms for a hug. “How’s my favorite bad girl?” When Alexander hisses out a breath, she wonders what the hell his problem is.

Sophia climbs onto Auntie Rosie’s lap and turns to look up into her face. “Miss Brown says I’ve been a good girl.”

Rosie drops a kiss on her cheek. “Yeah? Bet that won’t last.”

Face pale, Sophia slips off Rosie’s lap and heads over to watch her mama place two chickens, their skin all golden and crispy, onto a huge serving platter. Since she’s greeting Emily, Rosie misses the quick glance between Nico and Alexander.

Bronte crouches to give her daughter, and then Emily, a hug. “Did you have a good time at the party? I hope you didn’t eat too much candy.”

Emily shakes her head, while Sophia rattles her paper goodie bag. “Uh huh. Me and Emily didn’t eat any candy. We’re good girls.”

Bronte gives her big eyes, drops a kiss on her daughter’s blonde head. “Sure you are. Long may it last. Go up and wash your hands and don’t go near Luca, I don’t want either of you catching his cold.”

Sophia opens her mouth to speak, but her mama’s very busy cooking dinner. Emily slips her hand in hers. “Come on, Sophia,” she says in her gentle voice.

Nico waits until the girls have gone up the stairs. He moves to close the kitchen door, then turns to his wife. “That was very badly done, cara mia,” he says, anger ripe in his deep, growly voice.

Since it’s not a tone he uses often with her, Bronte’s jaw drops. “Excuse me? What have I done?”

“You made Sophia sad,” he says.

“And, it’s all your fault,” Alexander says severely to a wide-eyed Rosie.

Bronte looks at Rosie. Rosie looks at Bronte. Both utterly confused and bemused at an attack that’s apparently come out of nowhere.

Bronte walks up to her husband, gets into his personal space. “Perhaps both of you would stop talking in riddles and explain to us exactly what we’ve done?”

“Both of you need to take care what you say in front of Sophia. Haven’t you noticed she has been quiet over the past couple of days?”

“Yup.” Alexander backs his best friend. He turns to his wife. “And you, motormouth, are the biggest offender. In the car, Emily mentioned the fact that at times her mum cries because she can’t have more babies. Sophia says, and I quote, ‘There won’t be any more babies in our house.’ When Nico asked her why she’d say such a thing, Sophia says, and again I quote, ‘ Because Auntie Rosie says, ‘I’m a complete and utter nightmare who’s driving my mama cray-cray. I know that means crazy.’  Honest to God, Rosie, the way she whispered the words broke my heart. Then she tells you and Bronte that she’s been a good girl, even Miss Brown says so. And you ridicule her.” Alexander turns to his white-faced sister. “And you’re just as bad. Can’t you see the kid’s hurt and upset?”

Appalled she’s hurt a child she loves with her whole heart, Rosie turns to a stony-faced Nico. “But, I don’t mean it. You know I adore her. She’s a pistol with the heart of a warrior woman.”

Bronte shifts to sit next to Rosie on the couch. “I thought we’d cured her of listening in to adult conversations, apparently I’m wrong. She heard a small part of what we said.”

Si. But that is not the point, is it? If we continue to box her into a corner about her spirit and labelling her behaviour we will end up with a self-fulfilling prophecy.” Nico turns to a pale and emotional Rosie. “She quotes you chapter and verse, whether it’s about my ‘love muscle’ or how girls will fall in love with Tonio, like his papa. Great care must be taken when we speak. Sophia is like a human sponge.”

Rosie stands, her hands tremble as she clears her throat. “I’ll go up to her. I’m so sorry, Nico. I promise I’ll fix this.”

As Rosie leaves the room, Nico runs a hand through his hair, around his neck. “Dio, I have upset her.”

Alexander stretches out long legs, takes a sip of his beer. “She’ll be fine. I’ll have a heart to heart with her at home.”

Bronte shakes her head. “She’s not the only one responsible. I need to bite my tongue, too.”

Nico’s grey eyes met hers. “We must applaud good behaviour as well as nailing naughty behaviour. To test boundaries is part of Sophia’s personality and intelligence. We cannot go from one extreme to the other. We need a consistent response. My daughter is not a running joke.”


Meanwhile, Rosie, Emily and Sophia are having a moment…

On her knees next to the Cinderella coach bed, Rosie holds Sophia’s favourite doll, a battered Raggedy Ann. “I remember the day I bought you this doll. You were six months old and sound asleep in your cot. When you woke up you fell in love with her. Just the way I fell in love with you the very first time I held you in my arms. Did I ever tell you about the time I first met you?”

Sitting crossed leg on her bed, with Emily sprawled on her belly next to her, Sophia’s eyes are glued to her Auntie Rosie’s face. Sophia shakes her head. “What was I like?”

Rosie smiles at the memory. “I knew your mama and papa had a baby boy. So I’d arrived at the hospital with a huge balloon and a blue teddy bear. Papa was looking out the window and mama was holding Luca. First thing I did was to wash my hands to kill any germs. Then your papa turned and you were in his arms. I’ve never been so shocked in my whole life. They’d kept you a big secret. You and Luca were the most beautiful babies I’ve ever seen. I took you in my arms and your tiny fingers clutched my thumb and that was it. I was in love. And each and every day I love you more and more.”

Rosie finds her arms full of an emotional Sophia. “I love you, too, Auntie Rosie.”

After a group hug fest, Rosie shifts to sit back on her heels. She takes the hand of each girl. “Thing is, none of us are perfect. We do our best to be kind, but sometimes we hurt people without meaning to. But I want you to know one very important thing. Never, ever, change who you are because you are scared to make a mistake. Mistakes help us understand where we go wrong and learn to do better. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Sophia’s smooth brow creases as she thinks about it. “No.”

Rosie nods, wonders why the hell she didn’t say it straight out in the first place. “When you heard me say that there won’t be more babies in this house because you’re a nightmare…”

Sophia shifts to go nose to nose with her Auntie Rosie. “No. You said, a complete and utter nightmare who drives my mama cray-cray…”

Rosie frowns. “Sheesh. You have a memory like an elephant. Except you didn’t hear EVERYTHING I said, did you?” She gives Sophia an Eskimo nose kiss.

“What else did you say?” Sophia wants to know, her green eyes wide.

“That I hope my Mila grows up to be just like her cousin Sophia, a warrior-princess.”

Emily claps her hands, and beams at Sophia. “A warrior-princess? That is sooooo cool.”

Sophia’s cheeks go pink with delight, and her Auntie Rosie’s heart fills with relief when she recognizes the return of the spark in her niece’s bright eyes. “What does a warrior-princess do?” Sophia wants to know.

Rosie opens her mouth to say ‘you’ll rule the world, kiddo’, then closes it with a snap. “She spreads kindness everywhere.”

The girls blink. “Won’t I at least have a magic sword like Xena?” Sophia demands.

“A warrior-princess does not believe in violence,” Auntie Rosie says as she gets to her feet to head for the door to get the hell out of Dodge. This parenting gig’s a minefield.

Ten minutes later,Tonio pokes his head around Sophia’s bedroom door. He enters and bounds onto the bed.

“Mama and papa have closed the kitchen door, which means someone’s in trouble.” He eyes Sophia. “What have you done?”

“Sophia’s a warrior-princess,” Emily says in her high, breathy voice. Her blue eyes fill with love and adoration as she stares up into Tonio’s handsome face. “Except she doesn’t get to have a magic sword like Xena.”

Tonio bounces once on the bed to leap to the floor where he does a body roll to his feet. “Sophia won’t need a magic sword,” he says with a certainty that has the girls gaze at him with big eyes.

“How will I be a warrior-princess without a sword?” Sophia wants to know with relentless logic.

Tonio’s smile flashes white and bright. “Easy. You are Italian!”



Ah, we all need to be true to ourselves.

Next up, on Friday we have a very French and very naughty Golddigger and a big sexy beast. I had the best time writing PEARL’S story.

Big hug

Christine X



Golddigger new release – Ruby’s in town.




Greetings from a snowy and frosty Christine!

I’m thrilled to bring you the next Golddigger short story, RUBY. Writing in the Golddigger world is a gift to an author. The characters chat to me every single day. There’s always something going on in the world, with more love stories to come and plenty of twists and turns.



My name’s Ruby and I’m a GOLDDIGGER. Some women believe in romance and finding the one shit. Not me. Love left my heart a broken and bloody mess, like road kill on the freeway of life.

The long journey back to wellness brought me here, to success, fame and fortune. Sounds great, right? Except I value a helluva lot more, things a woman cannot put a price on, like independence and FREEDOM.

No man will ever again take away my sense of self. Not even Mr. Too-Hot-To-Trot Andre Martinez. His Latin machismo and arrogance puts my teeth on edge. Try telling that to my hormones which sit up and pant when he comes anywhere near me. The problem is, in his job as one of the top costumiers on the planet, he has his hands on my bare skin—a lot.

I might tremble. I might get hot under the collar. But I Will Not Give In. I won’t.

Will I?


Will she? You betcha. I had the best time writing Ruby and Andre’s story. This girl takes no prisoners. Enjoy!

Christine X

Fall in love with Noah in the Golddigger first short story… ELLIE



Only seven days to go and ELLIE will be winging her way into your eBook/reading App. I cannot tell you how excited I am to bring you the first of eight 30-40 minute stories (depending on how fast you read). Each story is released every Friday to set you up for the weekend and well-earned ‘me’ time.

They are romances, heavy on comedy, focusing on the moment when two hearts beat as one. All the stories are set in the world of The Golddiggers, where Miz Birdie rules the roost. But, each romance is a standalone with no cliffhanger. They are the perfect length for the commute to work, or lunch break, or relaxing in the evening or weekend.

I can promise you lots of feel-good fun and laughter. And I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I’ve enjoyed writing these feisty ladies and the men who adore them.

And I have a Big Surprise coming in the next few weeks, but shh, don’t tell anyone.


Big hugs,

Christine X



Good Monday morning, my darlings!

In the incredible journey of life, we’ve been burgled twice.

The first time was when we went on holiday for a couple of weeks with my girls when they were small. Because of a spate of thefts from garages, we brought our petrol lawn mower into the house thinking it would be safe there. In those days petrol lawn mowers were terribly expensive and we had a large corner plot with much grass so we were very attached to the machine (which was a temperamental bloody thing with one of those cords that you pulled. Never started for me but batted its eyelashes at Hugo and leapt to attention when he pulled it. I called it The Bitch) but I digress.

We took all the usual precautions before going on holiday, cancelled the milk, the neighbours had a key and they picked up the mail and switched on the lights and kept a general eye on the place. Anyway, the low life scumbags – forever known as LLSB’s – entered via a side window (I won’t tell you how they did it in case some wannabes read this – why give them help? and they should remember payback’s an evil witch called Christine.)

So when we came back from a break in Ibiza all bronzed and mellow with our livers pickled in Sangria it was to find my dear friend and neighbour, Linda, in tears and totally devastated. (For that alone I hope Karma has inflicted mucho pain.)

After forensics had made an even bigger mess, Linda asked the boys in blue (police) if she should clean up the place and do a bit of tidying because she couldn’t bear for me to come back to the disaster that was my home and they said to go ahead. I should mention at this point that I’m known as the woman in whose house you can eat your dinner off the kitchen floor, just say’in

So although it was a shock it could have been worse. The LLSB’s took my late grandmother’s engagement ring which was all I had of her. She died shortly after I was born. Along with various other bits and pieces of jewellery. The LLSB’s had piled packets of flour, sugar, salt and tons of other things on the kitchen work surfaces – apparently in readiness to trash the place. The boys in blue surmised that they’d been disturbed by something and had left the way they came.

The fingerprint teams were the one thing that seriously spooked me because they’d been all through my underwear drawer – where I kept valuables and items special to me. I’m a girl, we do stuff like that – and the black powder took days to clean off. I felt totally and utterly violated that the LLSB’s had been through personal letters, bank statements (this was in the days before online banking) and other items.

But do you know what really, really &%%£$$!! me off?

The LLSB’s had gone through every single CD and took all MINE and left HUGO’s. How the hell is that fair? Not only did I lose The Corrs, Enya, Elton John, David Bowie, Roxy Music, Enigma, Paula Abdul, Bon Jovi (I cried over him) Meatloaf, Whitney Huston (bless her) and Mariah Carey.

But they left me with Delbert McClinton, Waylon Jennings, The Nitty bloody Gritty Dirt Band (!) Garth Brooks and The Texas Tornadoes … the list is endless but you get the picture.

This was the last straw that broke this camel’s back. I cried. I wailed. I sobbed like a baby with Hugo rocking me telling me to ‘Hush.’ And that ‘Everything would be fine.’  To this day I feel bitter. GIVE ME MY MUSIC BACK YOU S.O.B’S.

Sigh. So come on, what have you had purloined from you? Share and we can all heal together. And let’s see if we can beat last week’s amazing comments – you were all totally awesome!

The second time we were burgled is a whole other long story and you’ll need a box of tissues for that one.

Oh, and just in case your wondering, The Bitch was untouched. Snarl.