Sunday, March 1, 2015

Jillsnews: Chapter One from my latest contemporary romance Mu...

Jillsnews: Chapter One from my latest contemporary romance Mu...: Chapter One from my latest contemporary romance Music to her Heart , available from and ...

Jillsnews: Re Release of my very first published book

Jillsnews: Re Release of my very first published book: M y very first book , the book that began my writing career, was Rain Lady , published by Silhouette Books, Simon & Schuster, NY. A...

Monday, February 9, 2015

Re Release of my very first published book

My very first book, the book that began my writing career, was Rain Lady, published by Silhouette Books, Simon & Schuster, NY.

An exhilarating time: I didn't have any rewrites; all I had to do was await the 1980 release as #29 in the new Silhouette Romance Line.

The book elicited book signings, 

a visit to New York, Simon & Schuster offices, chats with editors, and all those exciting events that come with being published. Back home local writers' groups contacted me for speaking engagements.

And now that book is being published again as an e book with Samhain Publishing.

This is how the book came about:
I got the idea for the book, the summer of '77 but all I had was the title The Rain Lady. However I did start typing...

After selling the book in December 1979, with a publication date of September 1980, Silhouette then edited the book.

And this is the first version

On May 19, 2015 an e book version from under their Retro Romance imprint will be published

And it's still thrilling. Enjoy.

Jillian Dagg

Monday, January 12, 2015

Chapter One from my latest contemporary romance Music to her Heart, available from and

Chapter One

Paul Kerr said in his gruff voice, “I’ve got some good
news. I’m going to be married.”
“Married?” Katy didn’t even know her father had
dated since her mother died.
“Her name is Trish Stevenson and naturally she
wants to meet you and I want you to meet Trish, so
we’ve planned for all of us to spend the weekend together
at her son’s house.”
Katy’s work as a singer-songwriter had dried up
during the years of caregiving her mother so she was
free and she supposed it was her daughterly duty to go.
“Where does her son live?”
“His house is northwest of Toronto somewhere. I’ll
call you back with the exact address. I believe it’s quite
“How am I going to get there, Dad? I haven’t got a
“You can rent one. Use that credit card I gave you to
buy yourself Christmas gifts.” The card she’d never used
because she’d felt so unloved.
When her mother was alive, her mother chose and
wrapped all the special gifts. Now her father didn’t
have time for her. That’s what that credit card stood for.
He interrupted her protest. “Katy, this is important
to me. Please be there. I understand it’s a lovely house.
And Trish’s son sounds like a nice fellow. You might find
him useful. He’s a pretty big wheel in the music business.”
“What’s his name?” For some reason her breath
had caught in her throat. There weren’t that many big
wheels in the music business, but it couldn’t possibly,
be, could it?
Her father coughed. “His name’s Adam Stevenson.”
Even though she was half expecting it, she still exclaimed,
“No way!”
“Does that mean no way you’re coming?”
“No, no, it means that I’m astounded at what you
just said. Are you engaged to marry Adam Stevenson’s
“Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying for the past five
minutes. Don’t you listen?”
“I am now. You’re always so vague. Are you telling
me that your fiancĂ©e’s son is Adam Stevenson from Stevenson
Music Management?”
“Yes. That’s him. Have you ever met him?”
“No. But I’d like the chance to meet him.”
“This is more than a chance. He’s going to be your

Katy disconnected her phone and sat on the sofa
in the small apartment she shared with friends. She
remembered back a few months to when she’d visited
Stevenson Music Management.
Impressed and just a trifle scared she’d stood on the
dense black marble floor of the large foyer. SMM was
scrawled in silver across the middle of the floor and the
entire area was illuminated by the natural light from the
many slanted roof windows.
The receptionist with the silky blonde hair and huge
blue eyes had glanced up at the line in front of her.
“Next,” she’d called out shrilly.
The black leather man, with the guitar case, in front
of Katy, stepped up to the curved counter and mumbled
something. The receptionist smiled brightly and pointed
out a door that probably led into the offices.
“My name is Katy Kerr. I’m a singer-songwriter. I
want to see Adam Stevenson, please.”
“In what respect?”
“I need someone to represent me.”
The woman’s brilliant white top teeth nibbled her
bottom lip. “And you just walked in here without an appointment?”
“Can I make an appointment?”
“Not just like that, you can’t.” The woman clicked
her fingers in the air. “Anyway, Adam Stevenson is out
of town and I have no idea when he’ll be back.” She
dragged a phone pad forward. “I can take your name
and number and have his assistant call you.”
Katy gave her name and number and it was written
down half-heartedly. “Can’t I make an appointment today?”
“His assistant is also out of the office today and she’s
the person to make appointments with.” The woman let
out a shoulder-heaving sigh. “I would advise that you
phone first to see if you can get an appointment.”
Katy had tried that with no result so she’d showed
up in person. “What about email?”
“No emails. I am really truly sorry. Next please.”
A woman with long blonde hair in skinny jeans and
a denim jacket slipped in front of Katy.
As she was walking to the swing doors Katy noticed
the skinny blonde was directed over to the door the
leather man had gone through. She was going through
that door one day, she decided as she left the building.
She slipped into the car she’d borrowed from a
friend, started the engine, and prepared to back out.
Great timing. A white limousine drove up and stopped
right behind her. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Katy observed
the man leaving the limousine through her rearview
mirror. From the back he was broad-shouldered,
with thick, vital, nut-brown hair brushing the collar of
his black wool overcoat. When he turned to speak to
the driver opening the door, she saw his profile: Dark
eyebrows over deep set eyes, a well-shaped nose and a
vulnerable full mouth. His chin was strong. She wished
he’d turn all the way around but as soon as the limousine
door closed he walked briskly into the building and
disappeared through the tinted glass doors. Sexy, she
thought as the limo moved off. Wow.
She left the parking lot and swung the car onto the
road. Edging slowly toward downtown Toronto from
the suburban industrial estate, Katy now wondered if
this morning’s trip had been worth the effort. Granted,
she’d actually visited the Stevenson Music Management
building. Still, she hadn’t come here to gawk at a music
shrine. She’d thought that approaching SMM might be
the first step in getting her life into order. She’d only had
one gig in the past month and while she was part-owner
of a vegetarian restaurant with a friend due to an inheritance
from her grandparents her music career paid her
bills. And she’d been doing quite well before her mother
was diagnosed with cancer. Spending all her spare time
caring for her mother had cut her off from the music
world. Saying no so much had been a dreadful experience.
At the same time as the agony of watching her
mother die it was also like watching her own dreams go
up in a puff of dust.
At her mother’s funeral, her father, brother Robert
and his wife comforted her with their presence. However,
as soon as the funeral was over they all took off
and left her to flounder with no support. She’d even had
a boyfriend at the time. Yet he hadn’t been able to spare
a moment off work to pay his respects. To add to her
heartache, Katy had broken up with Ken a week after
the funeral. All he cared about was his next real estate
deal. One day she would hear about him being taken to
a hospital to have a cell phone removed from his ear.
Katy drove through the city to where she lived.
The residential street was crowded as usual, but she
managed to find a spot not far from the apartment
she shared with her friends, Heather and Joe. As she
stepped from Heather’s car she slipped the keys into the
pocket of her black wool jacket. She noticed the blue sky
from this morning had turned gray and now icy little
snowflakes pinged at her forehead and scattered over
her long brunette hair. The wind lashing her best black
slacks against her thighs was bitter cold. Shivering,
Katy rushed past the row of narrow brick houses that
were either rental apartments or had been renovated
by trendy couples. The frosty weather was an indication
Christmas was only a few weeks away. She’d promised
to spend the season at home with her family, when, according
to her father, they would also sort through her
mother’s belongings and decide what possessions they
wanted to keep. Her father planned to sell the suburban
house in January and go north to live up in Muskoka
in his newly winterized lakeside cottage. When the cottage
was also sold, he would settle into his retirement in
a condominium near a golf course. To Katy that meant
she would probably never see Paul Kerr again. He was a
golf fanatic.
With stiff, cold fingers Katy poked her key into the
lock of the front apartment in one of the houses. Katy
had only intended to share until she married Ken. Now
she wasn’t marrying Ken, finding a place of her own was
imperative. Darn Ken. She really had held expectations
for her future with him. Nevertheless, she had learned
some lessons from the experience: Think before she
rushed into anything and certainly never have expectations.
Expectations were the cause of all of her disappointments.
At least the apartment seemed warm and friendly
inside. As Katy closed the door, she heard low voices
from the kitchen and smelled freshly baked cookies.
Just like home, she thought, remembering her mother
again, even though it had been years since her mother
had baked a cookie.
She tossed her purse down on the coffee table, took
off her jacket and hung it in the closet. Heather and
Joe were sitting at the kitchen table. Heather was tall
and thin with very short blonde hair, always a perfect
new style due to her job in a beauty salon. Joe was big
and good-looking, with black hair gelled back for his
daytime job in the bank. When he was at home and he
turned into his weekend job of a rock guitarist, his hair
tended to hang in curtains through which he peered.
They both wore jeans and black sweaters.
Heather jumped up from her chair. “How did it go,
Katy handed the car keys to Heather. “It was actually
a waste of time. I couldn’t get past reception. I need
an appointment. Neither Adam Stevenson nor his assistant
was there, so that means I have to try phoning
again. Which as you know, doesn’t work.”
Katy smiled for a second then let the smile fade.
Heather looked upset and Katy thought her tension
had a lot more to do with something else than her own
plight at SMM. She glanced at Joe who was plucking the
form of a stick person out of a napkin. “What’s the matter,
you guys?”
Heather sighed. “Sit down. Have a cookie. Do you
want some tea?”
“Sure.” Katy pulled out a wooden kitchen chair and
sat down opposite Joe. She thought his usually twinkling
dark eyes seemed as dismal as the weather.
Heather served Katy with a mug of hot, steaming
tea and returned to her chair. “You know my mother
went into hospital today for that knee operation. Well, I
have to go home and look after her when she comes out,
because she won’t be very mobile. Therefore, Joe and I
can’t get married until later.”
Katy tried to take in the implications of this news.
Maybe she was giving out bad vibes to everyone and
nothing would go right for her friends either. “When
are you getting married then?” she asked.
“We’ll postpone everything until next September. By
then Mom should be fine.”
Katy looked at Joe. “What do you think?”
Joe crumpled the torn napkin. “She has to do what
she has to do. I’m not losing her. But I can’t afford the
rent here alone.”
Heather said, “Would you like to share with Joe?
That’s what we’re thinking.”
“You mean me move in here permanently with your
“I trust you. I’ve known you since university. And so
has Joe.”
Joe grinned. “And it’s not that I don’t think you’re the
sexiest thing on two legs, Katy, but I trust myself.”
Katy smiled. “Joe. I trust you. I suppose it’s a good
deal. I was looking for a place for myself, but half a rent
is better really.”
“It’ll give you a chance to work on your music,”
Heather said.
Joe gave her a sympathetic sigh. “You can move
in your things from the storage when Heather moves
some of her gear out. When you have your piano here,
you’ll feel better.”
Katy nodded. “Okay. I need a place to live anyway.”
But even though her life seemed a bit more permanent
by nightfall, Katy still felt frightened. In the next
door bedroom, Heather and Joe were lovers. She could
hear the thump of the mattress, their heightened breathing
through the thin walls, Heather’s ecstasy mixed with
Joe’s groans of pleasure. They might have postponed
their marriage, but they still had one another. And here
she was desperately alone in the world. Because she
was supposed to be a modern, stand-alone woman, she
felt guilty for thinking this way. But she couldn’t help
it. She was lonely. And the loneliness manifested itself
into memories of the man in the black overcoat who’d
stepped from the limo outside SMM today. So tall and
strong looking, he was the type of man she needed right
now. She imagined his dark inscrutable eyes, how he
might look at her, feel in her arms, her fingers entangled

in his thick hair as he kissed her.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Katy fastened her eyes on to his back, where his shirt stretched over his firm flesh and she experienced a flash of recognition. Had it been Adam who had stepped from the limousine that day? Had she actually been dreaming about Adam Stevenson these last few months?

From July 15th in e book and paperback

Saturday, April 5, 2014

The Writing Process

The Writing Process

Thank you to talented romantic/erotica/mystery writer Christiane France for inviting me on a Blog Tour.

I've been writing all my life. I actually learned to type when I was 15 in high school so that I could be a writer. Of course there were some detours along the way – secretarial, administrative jobs, but they have become life research.

What am I working on?

I write romantic fiction and I'm usually juggling a few novels at one time. At the moment I'm endeavoring to re arrange a book I've called (working title) Firefly Bay. I say re arrange because I've written the novel a couple of times in other forms. Now I've distilled two main characters and I'm travelling through their romantic journey from the 70's to the present time. I've also got a new release coming out in July from Black Lyon Publishing and I've signed six contracts with Samhain Publishing for some of my back list under their Retro Romance imprint. Montlake Romance from have just released three of my Avalon hardcover library books, Tropical Dreams, Family Affairs and Love's Design in paperback which I hope will find a brand new market. In April another Montlake Romance will be releasing, Racing Hearts. All these books are available on Amazon Kindle.

How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I attempt to spin reality into fantasy. Whether I've ever achieved that I'm not sure, but I like to feel that each romance is a real friendship and a true commitment that will last so that the fantasy isn't a lie.

Why do I write what I do?

Because I've always loved reading romances and any stories, thrillers, mysteries, that have a relationship hidden in their depths.

How does your writing process work?

Sometimes I begin with a title, a name, or a vision of what a character will look like or maybe a situation. Then I begin to write the book from that one starting point. I usually begin writing a chapter then begin again. Write a second chapter then begin again at the first chapter. Maybe even discard the first chapter. By this time maybe the first two chapters have extended into three or four. And I keep going that way, working my way through the story, listening to the characters. Usually about half way through I have to spend a night wrestling with my brain to re arrange the way the story is going. Possibly I will change the dramatic conflict that will propel the story forward. About three quarters of the way through I will know the ending, but will never write the ending, until I've got the entire book right – at least in my mind. Usually the characters in the end have their own way.

Check me out at
Facebook:, Twitter: #fictionscribble

Monday, March 24, 2014

It's been such a long winter for some of us in North America that even if we were lucky enough to escape to a tropical vacation, on our return home the winter still struggles on. Join Rayne Sinclair and warm up on Silver Island as she fulfills her Tropical Dreams with Nick Lewis. Available on Kindle as a Montlake Romance from and

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Twitter: #fictionscribble