From Moon over Martinborough

Olive grove and the far hills

My publisher was coming to lunch, and I was nervous. She wanted to see the property and meet Rick and me, but she wanted something else as well. She wanted to talk to Rick about changing his name.
What if it all went horribly wrong?


“I’d like to see if he’ll let us use his real name in the book,” Nicola said beforehand. She was calling from Auckland, where she’s the Publishing Director at Random House New Zealand.
“You can try if you want,” I said. Ever since I started blogging about our life on this tiny olive farm, I’d never really been comfortable referring to my partner by his chosen pseudonym of ‘Rick’.  “I’d much rather call him by his real name in the blog and the book,” I told Nicola. “But he won’t let me.”
“Well,” Nicola said. “We’ll see about that.”
Although I’d signed a book contract with her, I’d never actually met Nicola in person. I wasn’t sure what to expect.
Nicola showed up at our door looking simultaneously sophisticated, casual and prepared for anything. She was impeccably dressed and her hair and makeup were perfect

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