Author bio
Zanna Mackenzie lives in the UK with her husband, 4 dogs, a
vegetable patch that’s home to far too many weeds and an ever expanding library
of books waiting to be read.
Being a freelance writer and editor of business publications
is her ‘day job’ but, at every opportunity, she can be found scribbling down
notes on scenes for whatever novel she’s working on. She loves it when the
characters in her novels take on minds of their own and start deviating from
the original plot!
Formerly a travel agent and therapist (she has
qualifications in clinical aromatherapy, crystal healing, naturopathic
nutrition and herbalism) she loves walking the dogs and gardening – that’s when
she’s not writing or reading!
Zanna has written two novels, The Love Programme and How Do
You Spell Love.
www.zannamackenzie.co.uk
Book blurb My novel, published by Astraea Press, is called The Love
Programme, here’s more details:
Thanks to an embarrassing incident involving a wedding and
her ex-boyfriend Marcus, Lucy has to leave her home town in a hurry and needs a
place to escape to for a while.
Best friend Fiona is convinced now would be a good time for
Lucy to get herself a new life with some potential for romance thrown in. Fate
seems to agree when Lucy is given the once-in-a-lifetime chance to star in a TV
show and be a contestant on The Love Programme - two weeks of luxury living on
a grand Highland estate coupled with, she hopes, fun and romance in wildest
Scotland.
When Lucy meets Paul - the young, handsome owner of the Highland
estate - she thinks she may have found the love of her life but who is the
mysterious Hannah and what part does she play in his life? When she discovers
that Marcus is planning to follow her to Scotland to win her back Lucy has some
serious soul searching to do. Does she have a future with Paul, with Marcus or
is she yet to find the man of her dreams?
·
So Lucy, The Love Programme is your story, tell
us a bit about yourself…
“Well, I’m in my early twenties and work in a travel agency,
my love life is a mess and I’m about to be chief bridesmaid for my best friend
Fiona.”
·
Tell us why you think your love life is a mess…
For many years I’ve been in an on-again off-again
relationship with Marcus, he lives in the same small town as me and we were
childhood sweethearts. As we grew up I felt increasingly that we were growing
apart but Marcus felt differently. Even when we were on a break he still rang
me, came to see me at work and at home, he wouldn’t accept we were over. The
Love Programme starts when I’m at his wedding to someone else after he has
finally accepted we won’t be getting back together. Unfortunately he chickens
out in the middle of the service, saying that it’s all my fault and that he
still loves me! I’m mortified.
·
So what happened next?
Everyone in town hates me because they think I’ve been
secretly seeing Marcus when he was planning to be married to someone else –
which, of course, I wasn’t. I need to get away for a while and am offered the
chance to go to Scotland to be part of a TV programme about the psychology of
love.
·
What did you think of Scotland and the TV
programme when you arrived for filming? I loved Scotland; the scenery was just jaw dropping, so
gorgeous. The TV programme was being made on a grand country estate complete
with a huge castle-type house and thousands of acres of forest. It was a
spectacular setting. To be honest I was terrified about the filming side of
things. When I first arrived there was a film crew waiting on the steps to the
front entrance of the house and I just wanted to turn around and head back
home.
·
Don’t country estates like that traditionally
have Lairds, an important person in the locality, in charge of them? Yes, they do. Paul is the Laird on the Arknavie Estate.
Before I left for Scotland my friend Fiona was having a bit of a daydream about
the Laird turning out to be tall, dark and gorgeous but I said he’d probably
turn out to be about eighty, bald and chubby!
·
And who was right? Fiona was! Paul is lovely, he’s a
self-made businessman who purchased the estate to save it from bankruptcy. He
wants to take the estate back to being run in traditional ways, using his own
money to get it back on its feet so it can be a key part of the local economy
again, employing local people.
·
So, you’re living on this country estate and
filming the TV programme, what happens then? I get to chat with the programme psychologist about love and
relationships and learn loads about myself and about men! Unfortunately, pretty
soon, everything starts to get rather complicated and I find out that Marcus is
coming to Arknavie to ‘take me home’
which of course is crazy, he has no right to do that, I’m a modern woman
and we aren’t even together anymore.
·
So you’re in the middle of the Scottish
Highlands with a gorgeous Laird, an ex-boyfriend stalking you and trying to
film a TV programme? Yes, that’s right and I’m not saying any more about what
happens … you’ll have to read the book to find out who the love of my life ends
up being! Will Marcus win me round again? Will the Laird and his mysterious
past be the key to my future? Or maybe it will be charming Isaac who is part of
the Love Programme TV crew…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Here’s a sneak peak
at chapter one…
“I’m so glad he’s
marrying someone else,” whispered Lucy, watching the groom shuffle nervously
from one foot to the other at the top of the aisle.
“It could have been you up there,” replied Fiona. “How many
times did Marcus ask you to marry him?”
“Three,” Lucy replied, shifting position for the fourth time
in as many minutes. Why did church pews have to be so uncomfortable? “The first
time when we were five, then again at twenty and finally,” she paused, reliving
the moment in her head, “eight months ago.”
“Well,” Fiona said, as the organ struck up, filling the cold
but pretty church with overly loud mu-sic, “it looks as though you’re safe from
any more proposals, because I think the bride has just arrived.”
Amelie Marchant made her way slowly down the aisle, blonde
hair in an elegant chignon, de-signer dress looking a million dollars. Beneath
her thin veil it was clear she was smiling, no doubt savouring each precious
second of being the focus of everyone’s attention, yet keeping her own
attention firmly fixed on Marcus, who was awaiting her arrival at the altar.
Fiona nodded in approval. “She looks gorgeous. Her dress is
exquisite.” She nudged Lucy. “Doesn’t the little bridesmaid look sweet in deep
pink?”
“Yes, she’s Amelie’s niece apparently.” Lucy let a small
sigh of contentment slip from her lips as Amelie reached the altar and stood
close to Marcus. Finally she, Lucy Stokes, was going to be free of Marcus
Brandon. He was marrying someone else, hallelujah! She would, at long last, be
able to live her life exactly the way she wanted to. The whole reason she was
here today was to witness the ceremony for herself. To know it was for real.
Okay, so she and Marcus had been childhood sweethearts.
They’d played at the whole boy-friend-girlfriend thing on and off, sometimes
quite successfully, for well over fifteen years. When she’d reached her
twenties Lucy had sensed they didn’t have a future together, and she’d been
trying to get Marcus to realise the fact ever since.
When she’d broken it off with him for the last time, to say
he hadn’t taken kindly to the idea they were no longer an item was a major
understatement. Over time she’d grown used to his persistent phone calls, the
fact he often just popped round to see her and casually suggested, if they were
both at a loose end, they might go for a drink or to the pictures.
Even when she’d plucked up the courage to attempt to date
other people, it had been a complete disaster. Friadon was a small town and
Marcus seemed to know every detail of where she went, when and with whom. On
more than one occasion he’d tried to talk her out of going on a date, and she
suspected, but couldn’t prove, he’d persuaded at least one of her dates to stay
well away from her, causing her to be stood up, all alone in the heavy rain,
outside the local cinema.
Six months after they’d split up, in a completely misguided
attempt to woo her back, he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed to her for
the third time at the travel agency where she worked. Armed with a huge bouquet
of red roses and a bottle of champagne he’d asked her to marry him one last
time. It had been in front of several customers too; Lucy had been pink with
embarrass-ment. When, riddled with guilt, she’d gently declined his offer yet
again, he’d gone off and met Amelie. Eight months later here the two of them
were standing at the altar about to become man and wife.
Realising the ceremony was already well under way and she’d
missed the first bit through not paying attention, Lucy tried to focus on what
was being said, forcing the memories of Marcus from her mind. Yes, they’d
enjoyed some fun times over the years, and she had to admit there had been
occasions when they’d been completely great together, but it was all in the
past now. His future lay with Amelie.
Clearing his throat the vicar glanced nervously towards the
congregation and asked, “Does any-one here object to the marriage of Amelie
Marchant and Marcus Brandon? If so, speak now or forever hold...”
“I object.” The words were barely audible but Lucy heard
them and fear shivered up her spine.
The vicar, looking as though his worse fears were being
realised, glanced around anxiously, un-sure what to do or say next.
“I object!”
This time the voice was louder. The vicar grew red-faced and
flustered.
“I’m sorry, sir, did you say you object?”
The bridegroom nodded solemnly. “Yes, I’m afraid I did.”
Those in the first few rows of the church heard the faintest
of whimpers escape from beneath the bride’s veil and her knees appeared to
buckle just a little.
Fixing a stern gaze upon the unwilling groom the vicar
muttered, “Why exactly do you object, Mr. Brandon?”
Marcus addressed the packed congregation, his eyes scanning
the rows, seeming to search for someone. Then in a loud, clear voice he
announced, “I object because I’m still in love with an-other woman!” Raising
his right hand he pointed to an area, three pews back on the right, just in
front of a stone pillar. “Lucy, my love, will you ever take me back?”
There was collective gasp from the congregation; the bride
fainted on the spot, sinking to the floor to be quickly swallowed up in a cloud
of ivory silk and lace. Lucy, covered in embarrass-ment from head to foot, used
her generously proportioned purple feather hat to try to hide her face, clasped
her matching purple purse to her chest and ran from the church as fast as her
kitten heels would carry her.
****
“Poor woman. Imagine being left at the altar.” Fiona licked
her lips and placed her fork back on the now empty plate, having demolished a
generous portion of blueberry cheesecake. “It’s the kind of thing you never
recover from, surely.”
“I know, I know, and I’m mortified everybody thinks I was in
some way to blame.” Lucy sighed and searched in her handbag for a tissue. “I
tried to call Amelie afterwards to explain there was nothing going on between
me and Marcus, but her mum slammed the phone down on me. Eve-ryone hates me and
I haven’t even done anything wrong.”
“So, where is Marcus now then?”
“He flew out to Portugal yesterday after the wedding to stay
with his sister and her family. He rang me from the airport and asked if I’d
fly out to join him, can you believe it?” Lucy shook her head in despair. “What
do I have to do for him to get the message?”
“Well, he’s obviously still crazy about you.” Fiona sighed
and then pinched the uneaten biscotti from the side of Lucy’s cup and saucer.
“In some ways it’s rather romantic.”
“Fi! It’s not and you know it! You’ve known me since school, and you know
how he’s been driving me crazy for years! You, of all people, should
understand!” Lucy replied, trying to re-trieve the stolen biscotti from Fiona.
“I want some freedom from him. I want a life. I want to be able to try to find
my Mr. Perfect.”
Fiona shook her head despairingly. “Not Mr. Perfect again.
Don’t tell me — the man of your dreams needs to be,” she started to count on
her fingers, “One, he needs to be fabulously wealthy. Two, he needs to be drop
dead gorgeous. Three, kind and loving, attentive and thought-ful. Four,
intelligent and successful. Five…”
Lucy held her hand up in protest. “Well, a girl needs to aim
high.”
“I understand about you and Marcus. He’s not the man for
you, but I’m afraid you’re not being realistic in the male wish list
department. Firstly, you swap and change your mind about things all the while,
and secondly, you know Mr. Perfect doesn’t even exist,” Fiona said, with a
regretful smile. “I’m sure we all wish he did, but he doesn’t. Never has.”
Looking like a child who’d just been told Santa Claus wasn’t
real, Lucy replied, “Okay for you to say. You’ve found your soulmate and are
heading for the Friadon wedding of the year in a couple of weeks.”
“Yes, this is true.” Fiona nodded, a blissful smile
appearing on her face. “But don’t forget I was realistic. I know Luke’s the one
for me. I accept he’s not Mr. Perfect. He doesn’t shower me with roses or
gifts, he goes down to the pub with his mates to watch the football far too
often, and he’s not made of money. Oh, and he hates shopping!”
Lucy shook her head, pretending to disapprove. “And yet you
still love him!”
“Yes, I do.” Fiona snapped the biscotti in half and handed
one piece to Lucy. “Didn’t you ever love Marcus?”
“No. Well, maybe I thought I did when I was younger. We were
great together for a while.” She sighed, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “I
suppose I’ve never had much chance to date other guys, to experience life.
That’s part of the problem. Marcus always wanted us to go absolutely everywhere
together when we were dating.”
“I don’t know how you’ve managed. To reach the ripe old age
of twenty three, and you can probably count the number of boyfriends you’ve had
on three fingers.”
Lucy buried her head in her hands, a curtain of straight blonde
hair falling forward to hide her face. “I know. It’s crazy. And now I’m hated
by pretty much every female within a ten mile ra-dius because they think I’m a
trollop and I’ve been carrying on with Marcus whilst he’s been en-gaged. I’m
completely innocent in all of this, yet I’m the one getting bad-mouthed.”
“They’ll get over it.” Pausing for dramatic effect, Fiona
added, “It’ll just probably take a long while. In the meantime you’ll have to
get used to being thought of as a wanton woman.” Patting her hand reassuringly,
she said, “Anyway, I’m still your friend.”
“Great, thanks,” muttered Lucy, head still in her hands.
“Sometimes I just feel this overwhelming desire to move away from here, to get
myself a new life.”
“Well, do it then. For goodness sake you’ve been whinging on
about it enough for the last few years.” Fiona popped the biscotti into her
mouth. “Think about it. What’s stopping you from leaving Friadon anyway? Well,
apart from my impending wedding of course.”
Warming to her topic she said, “It would do you good to get
away from this small town mentali-ty. You should have done it years ago. Go off
and explore, find out what you want from your life. You’ve never had a chance
to date properly without Marcus peering over your shoulder. It must have been
awkward.”
“It was.” Lucy shrugged, staring at a large crumb of
biscotti on the table. As she had a good idea how infrequently the table tops
were cleaned in this café, she resisted the strong urge to scoop the crumb up
and lick it from her finger. “Anyway, at my age, shouldn’t I have my life all
mapped out by now? You know, what I want from men, work, the whole caboodle.”
Shaking her head Fiona reached for the last of her coffee.
“Nah, it’s just a popular myth. Gener-ally things just happen, and they’re
probably not what you were planning but they usually kind of work out for the
best in the end.”
Looking at Lucy, she said, “Remember how you used to
complain about how boring Marcus was? Saying how you’d never been in a
relationship where you’d been totally swept off your feet, how you wanted to
find a man you could be completely crazy about for the rest of your life?
Always going on about how you wanted to find your Mr. Perfect, the love of your
life?”
Lucy pushed a lock of hair behind her right ear, frowning.
“And your point is?”
“Go find the man for you, have your adventure, enjoy
yourself,” Fiona added encouragingly. “All of the hearts and roses stuff, the
handsome looks and pots of money business we all, at some point, crave. Doesn’t
matter. They’re not the real recipe for happiness in a relationship.” As Lucy’s
face took on a not-this-lecture-again look, Fiona said, “You’ll see, I know you
will. You just need to find the right man first.”
****
Business had been slower than usual at the Price Right Travel
Agency where Lucy worked. “Isn’t it boring when nobody comes into the agency?”
She sighed as she deftly slid a pair of scis-sors through some plastic wrapping
on a pile of holiday brochures proclaiming Turkey to be ‘paradise in the sun’.
Her boss Melanie glanced up from her computer with an
irritated expression on her pixie-like face. “I imagine we’re being boycotted
thanks to your little shenanigans with Marcus.”
Trying to wedge some brochures with a picture of a gorgeous
sun-drenched Turkish beach on the front onto the shelving, Lucy said, “For the
tenth time, Mel, I didn’t do anything. What do I have to say for people to
believe me?”
Mel shook her head. “I’m not here to judge your love life
but when it starts to affect my busi-ness…” she paused, choosing her words
carefully. “For starters Marcus was one of our best cus-tomers. He even booked
his honeymoon here. Goodness knows what will happen there. Nobody has asked
about the chance of a refund yet. What with Marcus paying for it and then
jetting off to Portugal straight after the non-wedding, he hasn’t had a chance.
I expect he’ll be in to try to sort it all out when he gets back.”
“He’ll lose his money. I’m pretty sure walking out on your
wedding isn’t covered under his in-surance,” said Lucy with a grimace, feeling
guilty about how Marcus and Amelie wouldn’t get to enjoy the five star hotel
he’d chosen on a gorgeous stretch of beach on Cyprus. If she remem-bered
rightly the place had three restaurants, five swimming pools, a spa and a gym.
Everything you could wish for. She’d helped him to choose the place. Now she
was the reason he wouldn’t be going there.
“Perhaps it would be best if you took a bit of a sabbatical.
Have you thought about it at all?” Mel asked with more than a hint of
encouragement in her voice.
“Sabbatical?” Lucy queried, the brochures in her hand
slipping to the floor. “Not a polite way of saying I’m fired is it?”
“Of course not. I’ll hold your job open for you. Just
consider it an opportunity to take a few weeks off to go and have yourself a
bit of fun. Hopefully by the time you return, all the gossips will have moved
on to someone else and the next Friadon scandal.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?” Lucy asked, sitting down on
several bundles of as-yet unopened brochures.
“Definitely. I have this friend who works for a small TV
production company. They’re doing some sort of programme about love and one of
the girls has had to pull out at the last moment for family reasons. They need
a replacement right away and the filming is supposed to start in two days.
Craig, my friend, doesn’t want to have to go through all the audition info
again to choose someone else. I bet you’d be ideal.”
Sceptically Lucy asked, “What sort of love programme? It’s
not something tacky is it?”
“No, no,” Mel answered, tapping away at her computer
keyboard. “I think the idea is for three girls and one boy to spend two weeks
together at some glam location. It’s properly organised and supervised. Each of
you would get to go on your dream type of dates. It’s all about the psycholo-gy
of finding the love of your life.”
Lucy got to her feet, then swayed unsteadily as her sandals
slipped across several of the glossy holiday brochures scattered about the
floor where she’d dropped them minutes earlier. Stooping to gather up the
brochures before a customer (should one of them ever appear) broke their ankle
on them and sued the agency, Lucy contemplated Mel’s suggestion. “So it would
all be quite tasteful then?”
“I should imagine so. I think they’ll be having a
psychologist on hand too, so after each date you can talk about how you think
things went. There’s a complete relationship analysis service avail-able so you
can learn about yourself, men, and your attitude towards dating. Sounds ideal
for you.”
Realising she’d been holding her breath for a few seconds,
Lucy let it out in a long sigh. “Okay, I might be interested. Shall I call this
Craig or will you?”
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