Discover the world of Rebecca Reisin's Little Bookshop on the Seine.
Q&A with
Rebecca Raisin
Q: Have you ever been to Paris? If so, what are some of your favorite
Parisian things?
A: I’ve been lucky
enough to go Paris four times and do a bit of exploring for the books. It’s my
favourite city in the world and if I could up and move I’d do it! I love the
bookshops of Paris, particularly the secondhand shops that are dusty and musty and
disorderly. You never know what you’ll find and that makes it magical. If
you’re in Paris find the Abbey Bookshop, it’s full to bursting with English
books and it’s a treasure trove if you have time to hunt! I also love French
food - who doesn’t?! My favourite place to eat is the Christian Constant
bistros. He has one for every budget and they’re all glorious. If you splurge
once, I highly recommend it’s there.
The Ritz is also a
must-see, from Bar Hemingway to Salon Proust, it’s an experience like no other
walking in the footsteps of those literary greats. Buly 1803 is the most
beautiful perfume shop in all the world, it’s like stepping back in time. My
favourite is the rose oil… ooh la la. And holding a special place in my heart
is Point Zero Paris, the exact centre of the city and a place where magic
happens - you’ll have to read the book to find out more...
Q: What
authors were/are a huge influence on you as you began writing? Or Now?
A: I have always loved Maeve Binchy and Joanne
Harris and the style in which they write. I love Maeve’s ability to write
everyday relatable characters, and I love Joanne’s sense of whimsy. I love
writing foodie books set in exotic locations and I think I probably fell in
love with France through Joanne’s books, they managed to transport me fully and
I must’ve reread them a hundred times by now.
Q:
What's some of your favorite novels? What are you currently reading and what's
on your TBR (to be read) list?
A: I loved Me Before You. I cried ugly, ugly
tears at that. I must be a sucker for punishment because my all time favourite
is The Fault in Our Stars. And also Rohinton Mistry’s A Fine Balance. Three
books that you need to read in the privacy of your own home with some cucumber
slices to apply after for puffy eyes! I’m currently reading the Seven Sisters
series by Lucinda Riley, so a nice change of pace from sobbing my heart out. I
love how different each sister is and how you still find common ground with
them.
Q: What
inspired you to write your The Little
Bookshop on the Siene?
A: My love of Paris and its bookshops! And
truthfully, I wangled the family there so I could do some ‘research’ which
included eating my body weight in macarons and walking until I couldn’t feel my
feet anymore and feeling that I was a little bit French on the inside if only
the locals could see that!
Q: What
theme or message do you hope readers will take away from your book?
A: I hope you do something reckless, something
that scares you, jump out of that comfort zone and do that thing you’ve always
dreamed of! What’s stopping you - fear, money, work, life? You can make it
happen if only you take the plunge! Open yourself to new experiences and people
and don't take the taxi, walk until your feet are numb and find those lost
laneways and hidden alleys and see what you find!
Q: What
drew you into this particular genre?
A: I love love,
but Little Bookshop is also about another kind of love, the love of a place, or
a feeling...writing this genre leaves it open to interpretation and anything goes
as long you tie it all up at the end in a satisfying way!
Q: If
you could sit down with any character in your book, what would you ask them and
why?
A: I’d sit down with bookworm Sarah and ask
her what she really thought of Luiz… I am still conflicted about that thread
and what I could have done but didn’t!
Q: What
social media site has been the most helpful in developing your readership?
A: They’ve all been good in different ways but
I’d say Facebook is my favourite. I have a great group of people who follow me
there and really interact. It’s a nice place to stop and chat and they’re all
really lovely. Instagram is good too. I love how creative book bloggers are
with their photos, they’re very inspiring to me.
Q: What
advice would you give to aspiring or just starting authors out there?
A: I’ve said this before and it’s really this
simple. Write every day. I think it was Stephen King who said writing is like a
muscle, the more you use it, the stronger it gets and it’s true! Carve out a
time and stick to it.
Q: What
does the future hold in store for you? Any new books/projects on the horizon?
A: I’m currently editing Aria’s Travelling Bookshop, which is about a Van Lifer who sells
her wares as she explores France! (Are you detecting a pattern here!?) It’s the
follow up to Rosie’s Travelling Tea Shop,
which was released last March. Both books are about a different way of living,
about having less but gaining more as you go. I’ve loved writing Rosie and
Aria!
THE LITTLE BOOKSHOP ON THE SEINE
Author: Rebecca Raisin
ISBN: 9781335012500
Publication Date: 1/7/2020
Publisher: HQN Books
Buy Links:
It’s The Holiday on
the Champs-Élysées in a great big love letter to Paris, charming old bookstores
and happily-ever-afters!
When bookshop owner Sarah Smith is offered the opportunity for a job exchange with her Parisian friend Sophie, saying yes is a no-brainer—after all, what kind of romantic would turn down six months in Paris? Sarah is sure she’s in for the experience of a lifetime—days spent surrounded by literature in a gorgeous bookshop, and the chance to watch the snow fall on the Eiffel Tower. Plus, now she can meet up with her journalist boyfriend, Ridge, when his job takes him around the globe.
But her expectations cool faster than her café au lait soon after she lands in the City of Light—she’s a fish out of water in Paris. The customers are rude, her new coworkers suspicious and her relationship with Ridge has been reduced to a long-distance game of phone tag, leaving Sarah to wonder if he’ll ever put her first over his busy career. As Christmas approaches, Sarah is determined to get the shop—and her life—back in order…and make her dreams of a Parisian happily-ever-after come true.
When bookshop owner Sarah Smith is offered the opportunity for a job exchange with her Parisian friend Sophie, saying yes is a no-brainer—after all, what kind of romantic would turn down six months in Paris? Sarah is sure she’s in for the experience of a lifetime—days spent surrounded by literature in a gorgeous bookshop, and the chance to watch the snow fall on the Eiffel Tower. Plus, now she can meet up with her journalist boyfriend, Ridge, when his job takes him around the globe.
But her expectations cool faster than her café au lait soon after she lands in the City of Light—she’s a fish out of water in Paris. The customers are rude, her new coworkers suspicious and her relationship with Ridge has been reduced to a long-distance game of phone tag, leaving Sarah to wonder if he’ll ever put her first over his busy career. As Christmas approaches, Sarah is determined to get the shop—and her life—back in order…and make her dreams of a Parisian happily-ever-after come true.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
October
With a heavy heart I placed the sign in the display window.
All books 50% off.
If things didn’t pick up soon, it would read Closing down sale.
The thought alone was enough to make me shiver. The autumnal sky was awash with
purples and smudges of orange, as I stepped outside to survey the display
window from the sidewalk.
Star-shaped leaves crunched underfoot. I forced a smile. A sale
wouldn’t hurt, and maybe it’d take the bookshop figures from the red into the
black—which I so desperately needed. My rent had been hiked up. The owner of
the building, a sharp-featured, silver-tongued, forty-something man, had put
the pressure on me lately—to pay more, to declutter the shop, claiming the
haphazard stacks of books were a fire risk. The additional rent stretched the
budget to breaking level. Something had to change.
The phone shrilled, and a grin split my face. It could only be
Ridge at this time of the morning. Even after being together almost a year his
name still provoked a giggle. It suited him though, the veritable man mountain
he was. I’d since met his mom, a sweet, well-spoken lady, who claimed in dulcet
tones, that she chose his name well before his famous namesake in The
Bold and the Beautiful. In fact, she was adamant about it, and said the TV
character Ridge was no match for her son. I had to agree. Sure, they both had
chiseled movie star cheekbones, and an intense gaze that made many a woman
swoon, but my guy was more than just the sum of his parts—I loved him for his
mind, as much as his clichéd six-pack, and broody hotness. And even better, he
loved me for me.
He was the hero in my own real-life love story, and due
back from Canada the next day. It’d been weeks since I’d seen him, and I ached
for him in a way that made me blush.
I dashed inside, and answered the phone, breathlessly. “The
Bookshop on the Corner.”
“That’s the voice I know and love,” he said in his rich, husky
tone. My heart fluttered, picturing him at the end of the line, his jet-black
hair and flirty blue eyes. He simply had to flick me a look loaded with
suggestion, and I’d be jelly-legged and lovestruck.
“What are you wearing?” he said.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I held back a laugh, eager to drag it
out. So far our relationship had been more long-distance than anticipated, as
he flew around the world reporting on location. The stints apart left an ache
in my heart, a numbness to my days. Luckily I had my books, and a sweeping
romance or two helped keep the loneliness at bay.
“Tell me or I’ll be forced to Skype you and see for myself.”
Glancing down at my outfit, I grimaced: black tights, a black
pencil skirt, and a pilled blue knit sweater, all as old as the hills of
Ashford. Not exactly the type of answer Ridge was waiting for, or the way I
wanted him to picture me, after so many weeks apart. “Those stockings you like,
and…”
His voice returned with a growl. “Those stockings? With the
little suspenders?”
I sat back into the chair behind the counter, fussing with my
bangs. “The very same.”
He groaned. “You’re killing me. Take a photo…”
“There’s no need. If you’re good, I’ll wear the red ones tomorrow
night.” I grinned wickedly. Our reunions were always passionate affairs; he
was a hands-on type of guy. Lucky for him, because it took a certain type of
man to drag me from the pages of my books. When he was home we didn’t surface
until one of us had to go to work. Loving Ridge had been a revelation,
especially in the bedroom, where he took things achingly slow, drawing out
every second. I flushed with desire for him.
There was a muffled voice and the low buzz of phones ringing.
Ridge mumbled to someone before saying, “About tomorrow…” He petered out,
regret in each syllable.
I closed my eyes. “You’re not coming, are you?” I tried not to
sigh, but it spilled out regardless. The lure of a bigger, better story was too
much for him to resist, and lately the gaps between our visits grew wider. I
understood his work was important, but I wanted him all to myself. A permanent
fixture in the small town I lived in.
He tutted. “I’m sorry, baby. There’s a story
breaking in
Indonesia, and I have to go. It’ll only be for a week or two, and
then I’ll take some time off.”
Outside, leaves fluttered slowly from the oak tree, swaying
softly, until they fell to the ground. I wasn’t the nagging girlfriend
sort—times like this though, I was tempted to be. Ridge had said the very same
thing the last three times he’d canceled a visit. But invariably someone would
call and ask Ridge to head to the next location; any time off would be cut
short.
“I understand,” I said, trying to keep my voice bright. Sometimes
I felt like I played a never-ending waiting game. Would it always be like this?
“Just so you know, I have a very hot date this afternoon.”
He gasped. “You better be talking about a fictional date.” His
tone was playful, but underneath there was a touch of jealousy to it. Maybe it
was just as hard on him, being apart.
“One very hot book boyfriend…though not as delectable as
my real boyfriend—but a stand-in, until he returns.”
“Well, he better not keep you up half the night, or he’ll have me
to answer to,” he faux threatened, and then said more seriously, “Things will
slow down, Sarah. I want to be with you so much my soul hurts. But right now,
while I’m freelance, I have to take whatever comes my way.”
“I know. I just feel a bit lost sometimes. Like someone’s hit
pause, and I’m frozen on the spot.” I bit my lip, trying to work out how to
explain it. “It’s not just missing you—I do understand about your
job—it’s…everything. The bookshop sales dwindling, the rent jacked up, everyone
going on about their business, while I’m still the same old Sarah.”
I’d been at this very crossroad when I’d met Ridge, and he’d swept
me off my feet, like the ultimate romance hero. For a while that had been
enough. After all, wasn’t love always the answer? Romance aside, life was a
little stagnant, and I knew it was because of my fear of change. It wasn’t so
much that I had to step from behind the covers of my books, rather
plunge, perhaps. Take life by the scruff of the neck and shake it. But how?
“You’ve had a rough few weeks. That’s all. I’ll be back soon, and
I’m sure there’s something I can do to make you forget everything…”
My belly flip-flopped at the thought. He would make me
forget everything that was outside that bedroom door, but then he’d leave and
it would all tumble back.
What exactly was I searching for? My friends were getting married
and having babies. Buying houses and redecorating. Starting businesses. My life
had stalled. I was an introvert, happiest hiding in the shadows of my shop,
reading romances to laze the day away, between serving the odd customer or
two—yet, it wasn’t enough. In small-town Connecticut, there wasn’t a lot to do.
And life here—calm, peaceful—was fine, but that’s just it, fine wasn’t
enough anymore. I had this fear that life was passing me by because I was too
timid to take the reins.
It was too hazy a notion of what I was trying to say, even to me.
Instead of lumping Ridge with it, I changed tack. “I hope you know, you’re not
leaving the house when you get home. Phones will be switched to silent,
computers forgotten, and the only time we’re leaving the comfort of bed is when
I need sustenance.” A good romp around the bedroom would suffice until I could pinpoint
what it was that I wanted.
“How about I sort out the sustenance?” he said, his voice heavy
with desire. “And then we’ll never have to leave.”
“Promises, promises,” I said, my breath hitching. I hoped this
flash of longing would never wane, the sweet torture of anticipation.
“I have to go, baby. I’ll call you tonight if it’s not too late
once I’m in.”
“Definitely call tonight! Otherwise, I can’t guarantee the book
boyfriend won’t steal your girlfriend. He’s pretty hot, I’ll have you know.”
“Why am I jealous of a fictional character?” He laughed, a low,
sexy sound. “OK, tonight. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
He hung up, leaving me dazed, and a touch lonely knowing that I
wouldn’t see him the next day as planned.
I tried to shake the image of Ridge from my mind. If anyone walked
in, they’d see the warm blush of my cheeks, and know exactly what I was
thinking. Damn the man for being so attractive, and so effortlessly sexy.
Shortly, the sleepy town of Ashford would
wake under the gauzy light of October skies. Signs would be flipped to open,
stoops swept, locals would amble down the road. Some would step into the
bookshop and out of the cold, and spend their morning with hands wrapped around
a mug of steaming hot tea, and reading in any one of the cozy nooks around the
labyrinth-like shop.
I
loved having a place for customers to languish. Comfort was key, and if you had
a good book and a hot drink, what else could you possibly need to make your day
any brighter? Throw rugs and cushions were littered around seating areas. Coats
would be swiftly hung on hooks, a chair found, knitted blankets pulled across
knees, and their next hour or two spent, in the most relaxing of ways.
I
wandered around the shop, feather duster in hand, tickling the covers, waking
them from slumber. I’m sure as soon as my back was turned, the books wiggled
and winked at one another, as if they were eager for the day to begin, for
fingers of hazy sunlight to filter through and land on them like spotlights, as
if saying, here’s the book for you.
Imagine if I had to close up for good, like
so many other shops had in recent times? It pained me to think people were
missing out on the real-life bookshop experience. Wasn’t it much better when
you could step into a dimly lit space, and eke your way around searching for
the right novel? You could run a fingertip along the spines, smell that
glorious old book scent, flick them open, and unbend a dog-eared page. Read
someone else’s notes in the margin, or a highlighted passage, and see why that
sentence or metaphor had dazzled the previous owner.
Secondhand books had so much life in
them. They’d lived, sometimes in many homes, or maybe just one. They’d been on
airplanes, traveled to sunny beaches, or crowded into a backpack and taken
high up a mountain where the air thinned.
Some had been held aloft tepid rose-scented
baths, and thickened and warped with moisture. Others had childlike scrawls on
the acknowledgment page, little fingers looking for a blank space to leave
their mark. Then there were the pristine novels, ones that had been read
carefully, bookmarks used, almost like their owner barely pried the pages open
so loath were they to damage their treasure.
I loved them all.
Excerpted from The Little
Bookshop on the Seine by Rebecca Raisin. Copyright © 2015 by Rebecca Raisin. Published by HQN
Books.
Author Bio: Rebecca Raisin is the author of several novels,
including the beloved Little
Paris series and the Gingerbread Café trilogy, and
her short stories have been published in various anthologies and fiction
magazines. You can follow Rebecca on Facebook, and at www.rebeccaraisin.com
Social Links:
Twitter: @JaxandWillsMum
Facebook:
@RebeccaRaisinAuthor
Instagram: @RebeccaRaisinWrites
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