After several dispiriting weeks of casting upon publishing waters and failing to tempt my publisher with any of my ideas I finally got a nibble. Which book in my backlist do readers seem to remember most fondly? Perfect Meringues. I’ve alway felt it to be a weak book, so much so that I could never bring myself to reread it. But I wafted the idea of a sequel under the nose of my editor and her nostrils quivered.

I hauled a yellowing copy off the shelf, sat down at the kitchen table and told myself to stop being a coward and read. Gosh darn it if I didn’t think it was okay after all. Short, fairly devoid of plot, but not bad. I wrote it twenty years ago when I, like Lizzie Partridge, was a middle-aged, single parent living on the financial roller-coaster of being self-employed. And the dating scene…. oh man, the dating scene was dire.

Where would Lizzie be now? What would have become of her Gothic teenage daughter, her hopeless twit of a brother, her begrudging mother? Was Tom Sullivan heaven-sent or too good to be true?

Well, dear readers, I knocked together a proposal for a sequel and it was greeted with joy and enthusiasm. Which begs the question, why didn’t they tell me that was what they wanted in the first place? So there it is. My new project, a sequel to Perfect Meringues. Working title: Eggs not Included.

Happy?