By the end of 2005 I’d been writing for around 9 years. I’d had some short stories published in women’s magazines and even a contemporary category romance novel (Strictly Business) published by a small Australian press. I’d come close to acceptance with Silhouette, or so I thought, with encouraging feedback from editorial staff, but never the breakthrough I longed for. I didn’t want much – just to become a successful writer with one of the biggest publishers in the world!

In the end it was sheer obstinacy that kept me going, and the wonderful support I had from friends and critique partners in Romance Writers of Australia. I kept hearing those trite but oh-so-true words in my head: the difference between a published author and an unpublished one is that the published one didn’t give up.

After yet another rejection I finally realised that I needed to reconsider what I was writing. I’d been reading Mills & Boon Presents/Sexy/Modern for years (let’s not discuss precisely how long). They were the books I knew and loved best but I hadn’t been writing them. There were so many excuses not to: I didn’t know whether I could deliver the emotional body blow a good Presents gives. Would my hero fit that special mould? Did I actually have the skills to attempt it?

When I sat down to write the Mistress Makeover (now titled A Mistress for the Taking), I knew something was different. It felt like coming home. I discovered I was in my zone and the words flowed in a way they never had before. Don’t get me wrong – it wasn’t easy. But it felt right!

I was lucky to have incisive feedback from a number of sources, especially from my wonderful critique partner, Anna Campbell, and the Valley Girls writers.  I polished and polished and eventually sent a query to London in July 2005.  Then I got on with some other projects in the belief that it’s always better to be writing something else when the rejection comes in.  But this time luck was on my side and it was the senior editor's turn to read the slush pile (a woman of great taste and discernment). At the end of September I received a request for a full manuscript. Now, I’d reached that stage before and I knew not to get too excited. I pretended not to be thrilled and, after a few final amendments, sent the full manuscript to London. I still remember that day. I got out of the car just as the heavens opened in a massive deluge. I got soaked while I protected that precious package. The storm was so intense that the post office roof leaked all along one wall. I recall asking the staff if my precious envelope would be safe there or whether I should find another, drier post office.

Less than a month later I received an emailed request for revisions. That stopped me in my tracks. After I stopped hyperventilating I managed to focus on what changes the editor wanted and how on earth I could achieve them. I shoved aside all my appointments (except the day job) and revised. I wore my critique partner out with drafts of new scenes and bamboozled myself trying to keep track of the things I’d deleted, added or revised. And at the end it was a relief to see that the book was better. I emailed the story and waited for the rejection. Just over a week later I went to check for it and there it was – the dreaded email from London. I knew it had to be bad news since good news came via the phone – right?

So I opened the message and read, looking for the ‘but’. Thanks for the manuscript – no ‘but’. Did a good job with the revisions – no ‘but’. Would like to offer – hey, where’s the ‘but’? I had to read the email twice to be sure it was an acceptance not a rejection. Then I kept reading it, looking for the 'thanks but no thanks'. I’m so glad now that my editor had the good sense not to ring with the news – I would have been a gibbering idiot. As it was I probably sounded completely overwhelmed when I did talk to her a little later.

The family was thrilled, my friends excited, and I have to say every so often when I least expected it I’d suddenly realise, ‘Hey, I’m a Harlequin Mills & Boon author!’ But for those first few days I kept sneaking a peek at that email just to make sure I’d read it right.