Last night I dreamed I was in Scotland again.
I'm sure it was because of the book I'm writing,
currently called Too Far to Fall because it involves a fair amount of falling.
Off high, twisty highland roads. Off high horses. Off the beaten path and
headlong into love. In my case, I'm having an ongoing, passionate love affair
not only with my hero, who's very hot indeed, but with the Scottish highlands
themselves. I may be obsessed.
I've been fortunate to visit some stunning places.
Santorini, for example, a Greek island that held me mesmerized with its beauty. And Bryce Canyon in Utah, with rock formations so
otherworldly I decided I wanted to carve a little house inside one of them and
just live there, completely off the grid, and make up stories about the other
strange inhabitants… The Louvre at night when it's all lit up and the glass pyramids feel like crystal palaces planted in the wrong century.
These are all places I hope to see again, but something
about Scotland calls to me. If this is
an obsession, I don't want to be cured. Truth be told, I adore those sweeping
Scottish historicals where the clans are all at war with one another and the
handsome laird wins the heart of his enemy's woman. I can't get enough!
In my book, two wounded but very different people meet by
chance at the top of a treacherous highland road, brought together by a tragic
accident that might have been murder. There are no clans at war, but Ben and Fiona must fight an elusive
enemy to find the truth and
Have you ever visited a place that resonated with you so deeply you literally couldn't get it out of your head? —Ana
