On a non-working day (because nobody wants to be bored by the story of me travelling to the office, sitting at a desk, then travelling home again), I tend to get up around 7.  Well, I say that, but my alarm clock is a toddler, so it’s entirely unreliable.  Anyway, at some point between 6 and 7, I’m woken by the dulcet tones of my daughter shouting through the baby monitor.  Usually it goes something like, ‘Mummy, I want to go downstairs…now’ or, if she really wants me to react quickly, ‘Mummy, I need a wee wee’.  Depending upon which summons she chooses, I lie in bed for a variable duration, wondering how long I can leave her before she’s really had enough of singing to herself in her cot.  When I’m convinced I can leave it no longer, I retrieve her and carry her (protesting) back to my bed.

At this point, she says, ‘Mummy, don’t want to go to your bedroom…want to go downstairs,’ however, with liberal quantities of bribery and varying degrees of success, I tell her we will go downstairs via a quick bedroom detour.  At which point, assuming she hasn’t had a full meltdown, I swiftly climb back into bed, silently hoping she’ll find something to entertain her in my dressing table drawers.

Eventually, Atia (my daughter), wins the battle, and we head downstairs (after a convoluted dressing process).  We have breakfast (almost always porridge with stewed apple, blueberries, walnuts and pumpkin seeds), then play for a while or go and see some toddler friends.  The other mummies and I try desperately to convince our children to play independently so we can chat in peace…obviously this never happens.

Post-play, we head home for lunch; this would be mac and cheese followed by a banana every day if my daughter had her way.  After lunch, I take Atia for a nap, which is always protested vehemently, even when her eyes are half closed.  She goes to sleep and I jump for joy, rushing to my laptop to get some stuff done.  This is when I write, edit, answer emails, do general admin, chastise myself for my lack of social media activity, plan future book stuff…you get the idea.

I have to be super focused during this time as I know I’m on the clock – generally I have about an hour and a half before I’m once again summoned via the baby monitor.  I think this is actually really helpful as an author, as there’s no room for the procrastination that can so easily take over if there’s no pressure to get something done.  I know if I don’t get on with it in this small window of time, there won’t be another chance in the day.

The afternoon consists of more playing, or, if the weather’s nice, we’ll head to the woods for a walk, or into the garden.  After a couple of hours and another toddler mealtime, I tend to start restlessly checking my phone, wondering at what time my husband will grace us with his presence.  As soon as he does, I make a break for the kitchen, leaving Atia in his care whilst I have some much needed toddler-free time, although, generally, this time is taken up with cooking.

My husband then takes Atia to bed, we eat, watch an episode from a box set, and then head to bed ourselves.  I read for half an hour before observing a strict bedtime of 9.30 (although occasionally this slips to 10 – crazy, I know).  In my defense, I am pregnant; goodness knows how I’m ever going to get anything done with a toddler and a baby…


About Legacy of the Mind

Legacy of the Mind
by H.R. Moore
Publication Date: January 2014
Genre: YA Fantasy Romance


Anita has never been ordinary, she’s stuck out like a sore thumb her entire life; not only can she see the energy of others, a rare skill, but she’s won every Body challenge she’s ever entered. So when the powerful, good looking Descendants, Marcus and Alexander, mysteriously arrive in Empire, her difference attracts and keeps their attention.

Once in Empire, the sudden death of ruling Body Descendant, Christiana, sets in motion a number of events; a quest for the treacherous Austin to find the girl Christiana had been looking for; a challenge where Anita stands out more vibrantly than ever before; a perilous dip in the world’s energy; and a dangerous belief among the people that they will never truly be free. Powerful factions soon form within the ruling elite and when a trusted friend and mentor reaches out to ask for Anita’s help, she has to make a choice; help her friend and betray the one she loves, or do nothing and watch the people starve.

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About the Author
Harriet was born in Germany in 1987, the family returning to the UK, to Dorset shortly afterwards. She lived there until she was 5, her grandfather teaching her the basics of cheating at cards and swindling chocolate, her mother starting to instil a (some would argue) unhealthy relationship with cake, and the neighbours demonstrating that some people don’t understand cherry blossom is there to be picked, mixed with mint and water and sold as perfume.
Then there was Scotland; stealthy guinea pig breeding, riding horses, advanced cards, more cake, then to Devon and school in Exeter. She loved maths in the early years, but by the time she got to A Level, Sociology was her favourite subject, opening her eyes to things she’d never before considered, namely, nobody is really right, nobody is really normal and primary socialisation has a lot to answer for.
At the age of about 12, Harriet started rowing for Exeter Rowing Club. This quickly took over her life and before too long she was clad in lycra, training 6 days a week and competing at events around the country.

After finishing her A Levels, Harriet went to university in St Andrews, studying Philosophy for two years, then switching to Management. She was particularly interested in the ‘people’ elements of her course and especially the areas concerning how people create and react to change. After four very civilised years by the sea, she ventured to London, to foray into the strange world of insurance (surprisingly, more interesting than you might think). She worked as a Project Manager on large change programmes before founding her own consultancy in 2015.

Harriet now lives in Hertfordshire with her husband Chris and daughter Atia. When she isn’t, writing, editing, eating, running around after her toddler, or imagining how much better life would be with the addition of a springer spaniel, she occasionally finds the time to make hats.

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