Monday, February 25, 2013

Run Rosie Run by CC MacKenzie: Character Interview and Excerpt

 



 
CHARACTER INTERVIEW WITH ROSIE GORDON,
HEROINE OF RUN ROSIE RUN
 
 

Tell us about your family.
 
My crazy parents recently retired to Cyprus. Unfortunately, I’m an only child, which means my mother is giving me a very hard time about grandchildren. According to her I’m, ‘Not getting any younger.’ It’s my twenty-ninth birthday soon, but she refers to me as being, ‘Nearly thirty.’ Sigh.
 
What was the scariest moment of your life?
 
The time when my best friend Bronte Ludlow and I fell off the barn roof. We were ten. I broke my arm and Bronte broke her leg. Even today Bronte’s brother, Alexander, still throws it in my face. Some people need to get over themselves.
 
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
 
I wanted to be like Bronte, tall, slim and blonde, with endless legs. And dreamed of being on the front cover of Vogue. Since I’m five foot three and three quarter inches with curves and black curly hair, it’s never gonna happen. Other than that, I’m living the dream - an award winning pastry chef with my own business. Who’d have thought it?
 
What group did you hang out with in high school?
 
For some reason the group I hung with were always in trouble. Nothing major, we didn’t do drugs or guys. I think it had a lot to do with the fact we had too much energy. Mainly I hung with Bronte, we’ve been best friends since we were three. But our circle included Janine Brooks-Stockton, who was my frenemy for years, but we’re cool now. Along with Coco Monroe and Louise O’Brien.
What would we find under your bed?
 
Omigod! Funny you should ask that. How spooky are you? I’ve a large locked wooden box with certain items belonging to Alexander Ludlow that I’ve sort of purloined over the years. Including his lucky cricket ball, the silver cufflinks he won for rowing and a fabulous silk tie from Armani. I know, he’s gonna kill me when he finds out.
 
What makes you happy?

If I came to visit early in the morning would you impress me as being more like a chirpy bird or a grumpy bear?
 
It’s not pretty. Just say’ in.
 
What one word best describes you?
 
Loyal.


Is there a piece of advice that you have received that has really stuck with you? If so, what was it?


Do not lie. It’s not a BIG lie, just a teeny tiny lie. I should have listened.



Think Easy Virtue meets No Reservations

This is the third book in The Ludlow Hall Series available now.

Book one, 'Reckless Nights In Rome' is out now and it’s FREE (links below).

Book two, 'A Stormy Spring' is available now.

'Run Rosie Run' is the third in the series.


Introduction

A wise man once said,
‘Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it…..’

Pastry chef Rosemary Gordon had worked hard her whole life to be successful… Now the wedding cake business she runs with best friend Bronte was winning awards life should be perfect…
But Rosie has a deep, dark secret…
And the steadily bubbling chemistry with Bronte’s brother, Alexander Ludlow, has suddenly become way too hot to ignore…







  From Run Rosie Run 


‘Who’s idea was this?’

High in the hills above Ludlow Hall, Rosie caught her breath sucking air painfully in and out of her lungs. With deep loathing in her heart she eyed the steep incline directly ahead of her, which resembled the north face of the Eiger.

Silver ponytail bouncing on top of her head, Bronte, wearing shorts and cross trainers, bounded up the incline like a freaking gazelle.

Turning at the top she rested her hands on long thighs and grinned, hardly even out of breath. Cow.

‘Yours. And you told me not to listen to your whinging and moaning. If I was your friend, you said, I’d be behind you one hundred percent to become a lean, mean, fighting machine.’

Rosie knew it was pathetic, but she pouted.

Sweat trickled between her breasts, down back of her T-shirt into the dip between her buttocks.

Why oh why had she worn a thong to go power hiking?

‘I can’t,’ she whined. ‘There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t ache.’

Emerald eyes sparkling Bronte jogged on the spot, poetry in frigging motion.

‘You need pull on your big girl panties. Take a deep breath and run up on your toes. Come on, Gordon! Chop chop, get with the programme!’

After a couple of unladylike expletives, Rosie dug in and ran up the hill.

At the top she bent double, air wheezed through her teeth and she sucked it into screaming lungs.

Her calf muscles sent subliminal messages of exquisite pain into her brain.

‘I can’t go on. I can’t do it.’

Still jogging on the spot and looking as fresh as a freaking daisy, Bronte stared into her sweaty face.

At that moment Rosie truly hated her.

‘Where does it hurt?’

‘I’m wearing a thong. It’s killing me.’

Bronte’s brows flew into her hairline.

‘Ouch! Take it off,’ she told her, looked around. ‘There’s no one here. I’ll keep watch. Go behind those bushes.’

Rosie pulled off her rucksack, handed it to her friend and trudged up the embankment.

The shrub hid her from the waist down.

She stripped.

The way she was feeling, she’d need to be evacuated out by helicopter. All this pain for a pert bum and toned legs. And for what? She pulled on her shorts and heaved a lovely sigh of relief.

Bronte was now jumping on the spot.

The woman was a machine.

‘Better?’ she asked. ‘No blisters?’

As she stumbled down, Rosie sent her a filthy look that made her friend grin.

‘I’m not going to check my bum for blisters in broad daylight.’

She shoved the satin and ribboned thong into the back pocket of her shorts, took her rucksack from Bronte.

‘Bend over. I’ll check it for you.’

‘Har, har.’

‘What are friends for?’

Rosie pulled on her rucksack which held water, a protein drink and power bar. She’d have given anything for a Cadbury’s crème egg or three.

‘We’re on the home stretch now. It’s downhill all the way,’ Bronte informed her helpfully.

‘Tell me it’s all going to be worth it. Tell me you can see a difference.’

‘That bottom is taut and toned. I’ve no idea why you think there’s something wrong with it?’

‘I’m thirty in one year and one month. And according to my nutty mother my biological clock is ticking.’

‘You don’t look it. And I don’t look it either. We’ve got good genes,’ Bronte bragged shamelessly and handed her a stick of sugar-free gum.

Chewing thoughtfully, Rosie had to agree, neither of them looked their age and wasn’t that part of the problem? Much to her friend’s amusement, when shopping in town, twice Rosie had been hit on by sixth formers from the local High School. Life didn’t get more embarrassing than that. And Alexander had laughed so hard she’d wanted to punch him.

Since Bronte didn’t know any other speed, they moved at a fast clip.

Well, at least the worst was over and the view from up here was worth the pain. A sea of green rolling hills lay before her with the river meandering through it like molten silver alongside Ludlow Hall. It looked fabulous. At six-thirty on a balmy summer’s evening, the heat was beginning to ease. A lovely soft breeze cooled boiling cheeks as she tightened the scrunchy on top of her head.

It was on days like this she toyed with idea of cutting her hair. She could do with a change of image as well as a change of scene. The heavy stone of guilt still lay deep in her belly. Twice she’d gone to ring Alexander to apologise then chickened out at the last moment.

The trouble was she needed to bite the bullet and grow a backbone.

Christ, she was thinking in clichés, again.

 

‘You’ve plenty of time to have a family,’ Bronte said, jolting her back to the present.

‘Not according to my mother. Tick tock, tick tock. Do you think I’d make a good mother?’

‘Yes,’ her friend said without a moment’s hesitation.

‘I’ve been feeling broody,’ Rosie admitted.

‘Yeah?’

‘Hmm.’

Now Bronte nudged her shoulder.

‘Got something you want to tell me?’

Rosie grinned, nudged her back.

‘Nope. I just need to find the right man.’

‘You do if you want a baby. It’s Boo. She’s enough to make any woman broody. I don’t think I’ve come across a sweeter child.’

Bronte slanted her a look.

‘Don’t let one bad experience put you off. You’re not going to meet anyone if you don’t actively go out and find him.’

Rosie slanted the look right back.

‘Easy for you to say, Mrs. Ferranti.’

‘True. But I went through plenty of heartache before I found Nico.’

‘I wish you would share him,’ Rosie said in a hard-done-by whiney voice. ‘Why can’t you give him to me one night a month. Be a pal, I’d do it for you.’

     ‘Not a chance, sister.’

     ‘I wish he had a cousin or a brother who wasn’t deliriously happily married.’

     Steps synchronized, they marched down the woodland path.

     ‘Talking of gorgeous Ferranti men, how are they holding up?’ Rosie asked, referring to the upcoming funeral in Rome.

     ‘They’re talking, which is a good thing. But Nico’s taken it hard.’

     ‘Give him a big hug from me.’

     ‘I will.’

     But Bronte was frowning now.

 

     Recognizing the face, Rosie wondered what was coming.

     ‘You need to put Simon behind you. No bells and whistles with Josh?’

     So they were back on the subject of her love life.

     The woman never knew when to give up.

     And the lies just kept on coming.

     ‘He’s a lovely guy,’ Rosie said in a noncommittal tone. ‘We’re sort of taking it slow.’

     She hated this.

     Lying to her best friend was killing her, but Bronte would be sure to tell Nico that Rosie and Josh didn’t have the buzz and Nico would tell Alexander who was too much in her business and that had to stop.

     She needed to put an end to his dropping in whenever he felt like it too. Perhaps it might be better to wean herself off the addiction that was Alexander Ludlow rather than going cold turkey.
 
 
 
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Author of bestselling contemporary romance Reckless Nights In Rome. From contemporary alpha males to futuristic vampire vixens - I write larger than life characters who leap off the page.  Come and escape with me for a few hours into a world where you'll laugh and cry (in a good way) and cheer on heroes and heroines you'll love!

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