One of the strangest things about writing romance is how often the most important moment in a story isn’t when someone confesses love. It’s when someone lies. Not the dramatic kind. Not the villain twirling a moustache kind. I mean the small lie that slips out because the truth feels too dangerous to say. “I’m…

At some point, most romance writers flirt with another genre. Not literally. Although sometimes literally too. More often, it happens quietly. You’re writing a contemporary love story and suddenly there’s a crime that won’t stay in the background. Or a strange premise. Or a ticking clock that feels bigger than a will-they-won’t-they moment. You realise…

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that two people falling in love on a grey industrial estate in Slough is a hard sell. Put them on a sun-drenched balcony in Cádiz, with cicadas chirping and a glass of something chilled between them? Now we’re getting somewhere. The thing is—setting matters. A lot. I used to think…