Jane Green
The Official Home of New York Times Bestselling Author

The Sunshine Sisters – Available Now!

October 31st, 2016
I am completely thrilled to announce my new book, The Sunshine Sisters. I started this book last year, then abandoned it for a while, unsure of where it was going. Earlier this year I went back to it, pleasantly surprised at it being much better than I remembered. I rewrote what I had, and hunkered down, getting to know my characters.
I fell in love with this book. I loved every minute of writing it, and I wrote it in the way I used to write my novels – getting to know the characters, and letting them tell their own stories. The last time I fell in love with a group of characters like this, was when I was writing The Beach House.

Ronni Sunshine left London for Hollywood in the sixties to become a beautiful, charismatic star of the silver screen. But at home, she was a narcissistic, disinterested mother who alienated her three daughters. Still, when Ronni discovers she has a serious illness, she calls her now-adult girls home to fulfill her final wishes.

Nell, Meredith, and Lizzy are all going through crises of their own. But as their mother’s illness draws them together to confront old jealousies and secret fears, they discover that blood might be thicker than water after all.

And now I am delighted to reveal this beautiful cover. I am so excited to share it with you and can’t wait to hear what you think!  

Order now


March Book Pick is here for the Jane Green Book Club

March 1st, 2018

Announcing our March book! Our next pick is Cruel Beautiful World by Caroline Leavitt . As with all of our choices, this was one of my ABSOLUTE favorites of last year.

It’s 1969, and sixteen-year-old Lucy is about to run away to live off the grid in rural Pennsylvania, a rash act that will have vicious repercussions for both her and her older sister, Charlotte. As Lucy’s default caretaker for most of their lives, Charlotte’s youth has been marked by the burden of responsibility, but never more so than when Lucy’s dream of a rural paradise turns into a nightmare.

Cruel Beautiful World examines the intricate, infinitesimal distance between seduction and love, loyalty and duty, and explores what happens when you’re responsible for things you cannot fix.

Caroline will be joining me live at my home – hooray – on March 15th at 8pm, where we will be chatting about the book, the writing life, and answering your questions.

She says about the book: When I was 17, a friend of mine was murdered by her much older, more controlling boyfriend–someone she had been with for five years. I never forgot it, but until I was in a controlling relationship of my own years later (Google my story “The Grief Diet,”) I couldn’t understand how someone could stay. I set the novel in 1969 and 1970, the time when the peace and love movement began to turn ugly, when Woodstock turned into Altamont and the Manson murders. The novel is so much about how we yearn to fix things and fix people, but sometimes we cannot, no matter how hard we try. Sometimes all you can do is step back and let life wash over you.


On Writing

February 19th, 2018

A little while ago, I had half a novel completed. I had thoroughly enjoyed the first half, but had reached a point where I had absolutely no idea what was going to happen next, and then life got in the way, and it started to feel more and more difficult to sit down and write.


I kept coming up with excuses. My life was so busy! There were columns for The Lady that needed to be written! The house was too cold to get out of bed! My hair was the wrong colour! Clearly, my excuses were no longer working, and I needed to make a change.


Years ago, before I started writing, I thought that my muse would strike on a daily basis. I imagined writing to be the most deeply romantic of professions, presuming I would leap out of bed from time to time, inspired, spending the rest of the night huddled in front of my computer, typing furiously as the words flowed through my fingertips.


There are, admittedly, some days like this, but after twenty three years of writing novels, they are few and far between. Also, it has never happened at night, probably because I like my bed far too much to leave it for anything other than a couple of barking dogs who some children have forgotten to lock inside for the night, and even then, I tend to lie there for at least ten minutes, praying that they will miraculously shut up all by themselves. I do keep a notebook next to my bed, just in case brilliance does strike, but usually, when I read it in the cold light of day, it is nonsensical. Truly. The kind of gobbledegook you can only write when you are actually still half-asleep.


What I have learned, after all these years, is that the only way a novel gets written, even when (perhaps especially when) you feel stuck, is to sit down and write it. And so, a few weeks ago I left my house every morning, drove to my office, left my phone (the distraction to end all distractions) in the car, and wrote.


I wrote even when I had no idea what I wanted to say. I wrote when I thought my characters had run out of steam. I wrote because writing is my job, and couldn’t procrastinate any longer, and I needed to feel the high of having written, rather than the constant guilt at putting it off.


And, as always, the magic happened. The characters woke up, as did I. Their lives got busy, and it became a pleasure, coming in to the office every day, looking forward to seeing what they would do next.


Towards the end, I started tearing up, which is when I know I have something good. When I get emotional at something my characters are going through, I know my readers will too, and last Friday, when I finally typed The End, I felt enormously proud of myself for finishing my twentieth novel, even when, at times, it felt like I didn’t know what to say.


Of course, the work is only beginning now. I am taking a week away from the manuscript so I can return with slightly fresher eyes, and then the edits will begin. I will read through and check the rhythm of the words, build up one of the characters, move a dramatic plot point to earlier in the book. 


But I am almost there, and the having written, even after twenty novels, is just as sweet today as it was all those years ago.


New Hobby Means New Gifts to Give

February 7th, 2018

I have started a pottery class. This seems to be de rigeur for women of a certain age. Every time I log on to Instagram or Facebook I see that yet another of my school friends has taken up pottery. My mother has taken up pottery. Seventy percent of the women I know have taken up pottery. For a very long time I fought the urge, but the pull became too strong, and now I have succumbed.

I am very well known for my obsessions, not least because they tend to make their way into my novels. Every time my characters suddenly become jewelers, or candle-makers, or chicken-keepers, you can bet your life it’s because their creator was doing the same thing at the time of writing the novel.

My obsessions do not last long, but they are all-consuming, and I usually produce an astonishing body of work during the brief time they last. When I completed a silversmith course at our local art school, I set up a jewelry studio in the basement of our house, complete with professional work table, soldering equipment, every tool and machine you can think of, used it for one month, then never went in there again.

My candle-making occurred in our kitchen. For around six weeks, it became a candle-making factory, with trays of candles cooling on every surface, and the delicious smell of fig and gardenia filling the air. A few local shops sold the candles, and then I got bored, and moved on to something else. Someone recently told me how upset they were that I stopped, because the scent had become her favorite smell for her house.

And now it is pottery. I have fallen in love with lace-embossed and stamped platters, and as much fun as it is to source them online or visit pottery shops, I would always much rather try my hand at making them myself. The last few weeks have been spent scouring eBay for interesting remnants of lace, and buying authentic Indian stamps that arrive from India wrapped in canvas, the edges sealed with a stocking stitch, then sealed every inch with a proper embossed wax seal. The packaging itself is so gorgeous, it pains me every time to have to unwrap them.

Past experience has taught me that my obsessions are finite, and they are never too long for this world, which means I have to get as much done as possible while I am still interested.

The first lesson was last week. Everyone in the class stood around making a pinch pot. I took the teacher aside and explained I was there to make something specific, and would she mind if I did my own thing. She didn’t mind at all, and so, by the end of the class, everyone else had made one pinch pot, and I had made three platters and a rather nice bowl. I whirled around the studio as if I had taken amphetamines, while my friend, The Scientist, stood there and laughed, for she knows me very well.

This week I continued with three plates, and a mug. I attempted throwing a pot on the wheel, but I decided it would take me too long to become halfway decent, plus it hurt my back.

If you are a friend of mine, there is a massive spoiler in this piece, because I am highly likely to end up with a hundred or so platters and bowls, and you will all be getting them as gifts for the next couple of years. They will be the perfect present to hold all that jewelry I’ve been giving you for the past three…


How Much Contour Does One Actually Need?

January 30th, 2018

Part of my adjusting to my new hair color has involved me changing my make-up, which I am realizing is far easier said than done.

I once knew a woman who continued wearing her brunette hair down to her waist, with heavy dark eyes and pale lips, into her seventies. It looked absolutely terrible, but no one had the heart to tell her how dated she looked.

I realize I have essentially been doing my make-up (and my hair) in exactly the same way for years. I will happily adjust my hair color, and I am worried that I am reaching the age where I am beginning to consider going short. Not short short, but shorter. Perhaps a style rather than boring old long hair.  I’m reaching an age where a fringe seems like an awfully good idea. Far less expensive than Botox, and surely just as effective?

My eyebrows were plucked into submission some years ago, and of course have never grown back in quite the same way. I now spend hours with an eyebrow pencil every day. Some days, they look magnificent. On others, I look like Liz Taylor on overdrive, and this is not a good look.

I regularly find myself poring over pictures of the Kardashians, wondering how their eyebrows look like that, and after I dyed my hair back to dark, when everyone told me I needed darker make-up, I found a make-up tutorial on YouTube which promised me that I would look like Kylie Jenner.

Oh reader, this was fun. I spent an hour contouring (the contouring! So much contouring!), blending, dabbing, brushing. I put brown eyeshadow under my cheekbones (one must make do with what one has), and pale above, then blended furiously so I didn’t look like I had been rolling around in a muddy field.

I lightly sketched in my eyebrows so they were perfectly arched, with actual sides (that was the weird bit with the over-plucking – the sides were the only bits that never grew back at all). I added gold sparkly stuff to my eyelids, and drew my lips on with lip liner in a way that made them look bigger and poutier than ever before.

No longer was Cher staring back at me in the mirror. Nor, it has to be said, was a Kardashian. It was me, only much, much more glamorous. My cheekbones were so pronounced I was worried I might cut myself on them. My lips were positively pillow-y, and my eyes were dark and smouldering (helped somewhat by the magnetic lashes that I have now decided are genius).

If only I had the time to do this every day! I almost didn’t wash it all off because I’m quite sure my cheekbones may never look like this again, but I took the obligatory selfie, so I can always remember that I too can look Kardashianesque, with a few spare hours and an awful lot of make-up.

In the meantime, I shall be going back to the make-up I’ve always had, and the hair I’ve always done, and I will pray that it all stays on trend for just a while longer.


February Book is Here for the Jane Green Book Club

January 25th, 2018

And now, we are announcing our February pick. We will be reading The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin, and Chloe will be joining us live on www.facebook.com/janegreenbookclub on February 15th at 8pm.

It’s 1969 in New York City’s Lower East Side, and word has spread of the arrival of a mystical woman, a traveling psychic who claims to be able to tell anyone the day they will die. The Gold children—four adolescents on the cusp of self-awareness—sneak out to hear their fortunes.

The prophecies inform their next five decades. Golden-boy Simon escapes to the West Coast, searching for love in ’80s San Francisco; dreamy Klara becomes a Las Vegas magician, obsessed with blurring reality and fantasy; eldest son Daniel seeks security as an army doctor post-9/11; and bookish Varya throws herself into longevity research, where she tests the boundary between science and immortality.

A sweeping novel of remarkable ambition and depth, The Immortalists probes the line between destiny and choice, reality and illusion, this world and the next. It is a deeply moving testament to the power of story, the nature of belief, and the unrelenting pull of familial bonds.




The Richard & Judy Book Club

December 27th, 2017

Did I Ever Join The Richard And Judy Book Club?

I did not, but long before the Richard and Judy Book Club was a thing, long before I even became Jane Green, I worked for Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan. I was a young publicist who was burnt out from working in entertainment PR in London, when I got a call from a man I adored, offering me a job as the publicist for the television show This Morning, presented by Richard and Judy.


Richard & Judy Book Club

I jumped at the opportunity, even though I didn’t really know anything about the show, nor, in fact, about Richard and Judy. But I couldn’t think of anything better than a fresh start in a new city, and my boss would be someone I got on incredibly well with. Within two weeks I was packed up and on my way.

I found a large, shabby chic flat in Didsbury, and spent most days driving from Manchester to Liverpool in my little Renault 5, which died so often, the men from the AA and I became friends. I eventually replaced that Renault with a Volkswagen Golf, which turned out to be two cars welded together (a “cut-n’shut” as it’s known in the dodgy car industry), which was in fact the most reliable car I have ever had.

I loved my job. I loved the people I worked with, many of whom are still close friends, twenty five years on. I loved the camaraderie we had, and the laughs we shared. I loved that we were able to sit at one end of the open-plan office smoking ourselves into an early grave, and if anyone complained, we all ignored them.

We were a happy bunch, apart from the fact that my boss, the man who had employed me, turned out to be something of a Jekyll and Hyde. I had thought he was wonderful, but within weeks of me starting I would watch as he routinely picked on one of my colleagues, bullying and abusing them to the point where grown men were almost in tears. I remember being shocked at this behavior from a man I had adored, and – oh how naïve I was – thinking that because we were already friends, it would never happen to me.

The day it happened was the day I stopped loving my job. One day he decided it was time to put me in his firing line, and my life was miserable from thereonin. He stole my ideas and presented them as his own in meetings where I sat there mute, disbelieving. He would regularly phone me in the early hours of the morning, screaming at me for some newspaper story about Richard and Judy that had appeared, that I knew nothing about. He diminished me, mocked me, screamed at me and bullied me, to the point where I would have a Pavlovian reaction every time the phone would ring, terrified it would be him, screaming on the other end.

When “me too” was flying round the internet, I kept quiet. I did not write about the times I have been scared or uncomfortable, the times I have been the victim of inappropriate behavior, sexual or otherwise. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the time I was bullied mercilessly at the hands of a man who held all the power.

I hope things change. I have no idea what happened to that man, but I hope Karma has done its job, and that wherever he is, he may have changed. I wouldn’t write me too, because – and I fully support all the women who did – but because it makes me feel like a victim, and I don’t ever want to feel like a victim again. But to all the women out there who have ever experienced anything like this, I know what it’s like. And I hope that if it ever happened again, I would have the fortitude to walk away.


The Jane Green Shop on Amazon is Open For Business!

December 8th, 2017


Jane Green Launches a Store On Amazon

Amazon recently sent me an email saying that because they had targeted me as an Influencer, they were offering me a Jane Green shop on Amazon. All the people who write to me saying they love the style of my Westport home, Creaky Cottage, my kitchen, my parties, my pillows, can now find everything I love in my very own Amazon store.

Where Do You Get Your Glass Jars?

From my kitchen and Creaky Cottage, to the parties I throw, and even the way I decorate for the holidays, you can find most of the things I love in my Amazon store. From the dishes I use, to the glass storage jars that hold all my dry goods, to the soft, cozy touches that make Creaky Cottage a home, it’s all available in the Jane Green shop on Amazon! I’ve even got my favorite books, cookbooks, and the journals I use.

As many of you know, I am a big shopper. I love shoppJane-Green-kitchen-amazon-shop-glass-jars-storage-open-shelvesing, and more than shopping, I love a bargain. Sometimes I will spend outrageous amounts of money, but more often the thrill I get is from finding deals, and I have become something akin to a professional bargain hunter online. So whilst some of the items are expensive, most are affordable, and all will transform your house into a stylish, welcoming, cozy home.

Jane-Green-Holiday-Entertaining-Decorating-Amazon-ShopOh, reader! You have no idea how blissful the last twenty four hours has been! I have been up for two nights filling my shop with all the things I love most in the world. I’ve got books that I love, jars that I want, and almost everything that I have in my kitchen (plus everything I am doubtless about to own). I keep looking at the items in my shop, and it’s like looking at a style board for Creaky Cottage.

Jane Green Home

If you’ve written to me asking where I get my big glass kitchen jars, or my burlap tablecloths, or my accessories, you will find many of them in my shop.

Take a look at my Amazon shop here – I would love to hear what you think!




The Gap In The Doors of The Loos is Not Nearly As Nice As New York

December 6th, 2017

I am very happy as an English woman living in America, and there are many things that are truly wonderful about this country (clue: but the loos aint one of them). When I moved here, having been brought up on a diet of American films and television shows, I presumed that everything in America was bigger, better, and glossier.

It’s true, some things are. New York, for example, remains one of the most vibrant cities in the world. The service industry here is truly an industry, and people leap to help (which is still something of a pleasure, seventeen years on). Hamburgers and pizza are excellent, as are chips (and when I say chips, I mean French fries, which are invariably better than anything I ate on the other side of the pond).

The roads are wide and easy to navigate, especially in California. Admittedly, the traffic is terrible, but with six huge lanes, who cares? Also, there are three million satellite radio channels to while away the hours you spend sitting in traffic, so it’s all rather enjoyable.

Speaking of cars, the cars are enormous, and luxurious! I’m sure the UK is catching up, but everyone here drives monster cars (including me), which aren’t really cars, they’re more like our own private universes.

But there are a few things that continue to puzzle me, even after seventeen years. You can’t find a decent cup of tea to save your life. Also, herbal tea does not count as tea, which should be PG Tips or Tetley’s, and come with copious amounts of milk and sugar. Americans also do not say please and thank you as much as we do, and often, I have noticed that instead of saying “you’re welcome”, or “it’s a pleasure,” they say, “uh huh”. Which is just odd. But the thing that worries me most, is the gap in the public loos.

All the bathroom stalls in this country seem to have not only gaps top and bottom (understandable, and not terrible – on cop shows they can always look underneath to see if someone has overdosed), but, and this is the bit that continues to bother me, they also have huge gaps on the side. THE SIDE. What are they thinking?

I’m not talking about a sliver through which daylight can shine, I’m talking, in many cases, about a good three quarters of an inch, which doesn’t sound like a lot, until you are minding your own business in what you assume is the privacy of your cubicle, and you find yourself making eye contact with someone standing by the sinks.

The people at Buzzfeed are also confused, and I don’t blame them.

I don’t understand it. There seems little point in even having a door. I always heave a sigh of relief when there’s a hook at the top and I’m wearing a drapey scarf that I can expertly drape to cover the gap.

Once upon a time, I was able to avoid public loos entirely. Now, as a middle-aged woman, I find it is not so easy. I shall just have to make sure I bring my scarves, and fill my bag with double-sided sellotape.


Jane Green tells the story of the affair she didn’t have on The Moth

December 5th, 2017

Jane Green tells the story of being middle-aged, and having her head ever so slightly turned by a young, handsome author for The Moth on public radio. Will she be able to resist temptation or will she succumb, and what does her husband have to say about all of this…

Spoiler alert: she didn’t have an affair. But she did use the experience to inspire the novel, Tempting Fate.


The Background of Promises to Keep; how cancer and friendship inspired this novel

December 5th, 2017

Listen to the background story that inspired the novel, Promises to Keep. The New York Times bestselling author wrote this momentous novel about a family coming together in the hardest of times for one unforgettable – and ultimately life-changing – year. Inspired by Jane Green’s real life and taking care of one of her best friends after she was diagnosed with Stage IV cancer, this is one of her most moving novels.


A Bestselling Chick Lit Author Drives What?

November 28th, 2017

bestselling-chick-lit-author-Jane-Green-DrivesJust how swanky is the world of bestselling chick lit author, Jane Green?

This bestselling chick lit author has been driving a big old truck for over ten years, and it wasn’t new when I bought it. It is a Land Cruiser, which is the truck the Peace Corps drive all over Africa, because they are insanely reliable, and good for around four or five hundred thousand miles (by the way, I don’t really write chick lit anymore, but I am credited with originating a genre, so there it is…).
My car never lets me down, but recently, when I have been a passenger in new cars that friends have bought, I find myself ever so slightly pining for something a little fancier. Every now and then I think, hey, I’m a bestselling chick lit author! I want something swanky and posh! I want a car that has Bluetooth rather than a cassette deck! I want a car that connects to my iphone! I want a car that has auto pilot (I realize on some level I want Knight Rider)!

Would a Jaguar suit a bestselling chick lit author?

I decided it was time to treat myself, so I spent last Saturday at all the local car dealerships, thinking I deserved a luxury car. I started with a Porsche Macan (it felt like a cockpit). I moved on to an Audi, then a Range Rover. I threw in the Jaguar because it was right there, and corrected the salesman who kept calling it “JagWAR.” I said it wasn’t a “JagWAR”, it was a “JAG-ewe-er”, to which he said, essentially, when in America…
I decided not to argue, but frankly, it is not a JagWAR, and probably isn’t much of a JAG-ewe-er, it’s more of a Jag, but things were getting complicated, and I knew he wouldn’t understand about 80’s wide boys driving XJS’s in England, so I left it.
We spent the day driving these spectacular cars up and down the highway. They were fast! And light! And they connected with my iphone! They did things like flash lights if another car was coming too close to the side, and self-correct if you were distracted and veering off to one side.
They were all gorgeous, and I couldn’t decide what would suit me best. My favorite was the Range Rover, although I just kept feeling it was a bit too much of a status car for me. I am not one for flashy designer labels, and it felt a bit like the ultimate designer label.
At the end of the day, I climbed back in my trusty Land Cruiser. I rested my elbow on the rest in the middle, which is exactly the right height for me, and I plugged the cord that runs from the cassette into my iphone so I could play my music in the car. I drove home, and it was comfortable, and cozy, and the nicest drive of the day.
I’m not ready. I may think I deserve a new car, but I realize that not only do I not need one, I don’t even want one. I have at least two hundred and fifty thousand miles to go.

Getting ready for Tom Perrotta as the first Jane Green Book Club Pick…

November 14th, 2017

Two more days to go until Tom Perrotta, author of Mrs Fletcher,tom-perrotta-jane-green-book-club joins the Jane Green Book Club for its inaugural book!

Tom Perrotta Joins The Jane Green Book Club!

Don’t forget, Tom Perrotta​ will be live on this facebook page: www.facebook.com/janegreenbookclub on Thursday November 16th at 8pm, EST, and you will be able to ask him questions then.

If you’re joining our book club and live chat by yourself, welcome, and all you have to do is log in to www.facebook.com/janegreenbookclub at 8pm EST on November 16th.

If you’re gathering friends to form a book club, or bringing an existing book club, we’ve put together a few guidelines on how to run your book club. Feel free to follow them, or abandon them completely! The important thing is you gather together good people, and have fun.

How Do I Run The Jane Green Book Club?

• We suggest you ask people to arrive at your home for your book club for 6.30 or 7pm, and bring their questions with them! Ensure you, as host, check your wifi connection beforehand. You will need a computer, laptop or ipad to join
the live chat with the author.
• 7pm – 8pm – Meet and greet in your home, and share your thoughts about the book with the group, and prepare questions.
• 8pm Log in to Facebook, and go to this page here:
• 8pm-9pm – Listen to Tom Perrotta talk about the book, and type in your questions. He may not be able to get to all of them, but will do his best.
• 9pm-10pm Continue talking about the book, with us online or amongst yourselves.

We hope you have a wonderful night, and can’t wait to hear about it. If you’re gathering friends, post photographs of your bookclub on instagram, twitter and facebook with the hashtags #janegreenbookclub #tomperrotta

Happy reading!


Jane Green Book Club Launches in Westport, CT!

November 14th, 2017

We have officially kicked off the Jane Green Book Club with a party (and lots of wine!). Eighty women gathered together in Parker Mansion, in my home town of Westport, Connecticut, to toast this exciting new venture.

So why start a nationwide virtual book club? Because wherever we live, I think we are all going through the same thing…

When I first moved to suburbia, almost seventeen years ago, there were so many resources for the young yummy mommy. There were playgroups, and playdates, and meetings and classes. There were even mommy book clubs. I met my first friends here standing outside the doors of pre-school, waiting for the children to emerge. As time went by and our children went off to different schools, I saw those wonderful women less. Between working and raising those children, life got busier and busier, until suddenly those children are in high school and getting ready to leave, and my friends are nowhere to be found.

That last bit is not quite true, but what is true is that most of the women I know, myself included, are leading lives that are far more isolated than we ever expected. Age, stage, the busy-ness of life, and perhaps most of all, technology, have all contributed to a growing sense of loneliness. Many of us are hiding behind screens, iphones and ipads, instead of getting out and living life.

But My Life Is Too Busy To Join The Jane Green Book Club!

Someone once told me that after the age of forty, you can divide your life into three sections: family, friends, and work. But you can only ever successfully juggle two. For many of us, it is our friendships that get short shrift, even though as human beings, we need connection; we are built for connection; we long to connect.

Which is what the Jane Green Book Club is all about. Bringing women together over the love of a shared story, to share their own stories. It’s about community, connection, and looking after each other. All in the name of a good book. All you have to do to join is sign up by clicking the link on this page: Jane Green Book Club, and join us there on November 16th. You can join us by yourself, or – even better – invite some friends over and form a book club. We’ll all be reading the same book together!jane-green-book-club-kit-appetizers-food

How Does The Jane Green Book Club Work?

What makes the Jane Green Book Club different? Not only do we choose the book every month, but we also bring you the authors, live on Facebook video, so wherever you live, you can ask them your questions directly! During every book club, you can livestream the author and type your questions!

jane-green-book-club-party-meetingHere we have some pictures from our launch, from the wonderful women there (I wish I could share the incredible warmth that filled that room), to putting the kits together at my kitchen table, to the finished sample book club kit.

The book club kit will make the life of the busy woman easier – when you have 10-15 women coming over from book club and you have no time to shop, what could be better than coming home and finding a beautiful box filled with delicious goodies and treats, and some of my favorite things to make your home cozy and beautiful – a place where everyone feels good.

Do you know anyone who hosts a book club who might like one of these boxes? If so, tag them on the Jane Green Book Club page, underneath this same post!

Don’t forget, our first book club is 8pm (EST) live on the Jane Green Book Club Facebook page with Tom Perrotta who will be discussing his wonderful book (and our first book club choice), Mrs Fletcher! Like and follow the page to get all the updates, and sign up for the newsletter on that page to make sure you don’t miss anything!



November 4th, 2017

I was in the hairdresser recently when a buzz of excitement went around the room. There was a woman in there who had false eyelashes, that were magnetic. We all huddled around her chair as she demonstrated how these eyelashes worked – tiny magnets were attached, and she snapped them above and below her eyelash.

I thought it was the most genius thing I had ever seen, particularly because my own eyelashes are short and stumpy, and I have long dreamed of the kind of luscious long lashes that I could pay for if I could be bothered to have eyelash extensions, but I cannot.

(I did try them once. It took over an hour, was deeply boring, and then all the eyelashes on one eye fell off within a week. The lashes on the other eye stayed on for a month. It was a disaster).

I promptly went online, and bought a set of magnetic eyelashes, which arrived, in beautiful packaging, a few days later. I had a cursory practice in front of the bathroom mirror, and it was not only easy, my eyelashes looked fantastic!

Later that night, I set off for a party at a new neighbor’s home. We hadn’t met before. I was dressed casually, apart from my fabulous new eyelashes. I wore sunglasses on the way there, and when we arrived and I took off my sunglasses, my son squinted and said there appeared to be something wrong with my eye.

I ran straight into the loo to check, but they looked fine. Bear in mind I am no longer young. Bear in mind my eyesight is pretty appalling. Bear in mind the loo was lit by a candle only.

I had a lovely time. I met all sorts of neighbors I had never met before, and chatted exuberantly with everyone. I deemed it a huge success until I got back home, and saw, in the bright light of my own bathroom mirror, that one magnetic eyelash had been hanging off for the entire evening.

I was mortified. I am mortified. I don’t think I will ever be able to see these neighbors again. I have now ordered something called Lash Boost made by Rodan & Fields, which is a potion that you brush on to your eyelashes at night, which is supposed to make them grow.

Perhaps, if they grow long enough, my magnetic eyelashes will have something to attach to, and I may get some use out of them after all.

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Want these bookmarks? Giveaway below to celebrate the launch of the Jane Green Book Club.

The two things I love doing more than anything else, are reading, and cooking, and what better way to bring them together than in a book club.

I’m realizing how many women my age, whose children have grown and flown, are finding themselves increasingly isolated. We’re all hiding behind our computer screens and smartphones, most of us lonelier than we ever expected to be, so I’m on a miss

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Behaving Badly

October 29th, 2017

I am beginning to realize that this column is becoming something of a confessional for me. Whenever I behave badly, I find myself writing it down without thinking too much about it. I now think perhaps my column ought to be renamed something along the lines of “Misadventures of a Menopausal Woman.”

This week, I have mostly been behaving well. Apart from one teensy, weensy, minor slip. It is regatta season again, and I was in charge of the food at last week’s regatta. The weather was going to be beautiful, we were expecting a huge crowd, and I planned my menu accordingly.

Some of you may remember that last season, a rowing mother took me aside to complain bitterly that my pancakes tasted of onion. Onion pancakes have now become something of an in-joke at the rowing club, and because I am a menopausal woman and I seem to have lost the ability to let anything go, I decided to add onion pancakes to the menu. This time, intentionally.

I sautéed a bunch of sliced onions with garlic, turmeric, ginger, cinnamon, a pinch of cayenne pepper and a little brown sugar. I cooled them, then stirred in ricotta cheese, and added the entire mixture to a pancake mix (1 cup flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 2 tablespoons sugar, ½ teasoon salt mixed together, add in a beaten egg, 1 cup milk, 2 tablespoons melted butter. Stir until combined), with a heavy sprinkling of turmeric to turn them into a golden yellow. I fried them in olive oil, and they were fluffy, and spicy, and sweet, and utterly delicious.

Sadly, the woman who complained about the onion pancakes to begin with, wasn’t there, so I shall just have to make them again.

Onion pancakes aside, I was behaving quite well, and even managed to put up with the mansplaining. This is a very peculiar trope I have noticed in America – all men think they are expert grillmasters, even when they are terrible cooks, and understand nothing about seasoning, or indeed food. Some men I know truly are excellent grillmasters. My usual co-grillmaster who works with me when I do the regattas, is an extraordinarily gifted cook, who has taught me tremendous things about meat.

But there are a few men at this regatta who regularly elbow me out the way to take over the grill. They don’t actually say: “move over, l’il lady,” but I can hear them think it. One of them always lurks and comments on what I’m cooking with things like, “Oh, interesting. I never add salt to anything. I find most people don’t like salt.” I have taken to giving him withering stares in the hopes he will disappear.

This week, the mansplainers were up in arms over my grilled cheese sandwiches. Instead of butter on the outside, I used mayonnaise. Because it’s an emulsion, the oils in the mayonnaise stick to the food, and cause a Maillard reaction, turning the bread a rich golden brown. It works far better than butter, and you cannot taste the mayonnaise, but that was not good enough for the Mansplainers. They shook their heads in horror and muttered to each other about the mayo, as I felt my irritation rise.

I considered giving them a science lesson as every good menopausal woman should do, until I thought better of it. I had had my fun with the onion pancakes. It was time to call it a day.

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Kitchen Love

October 19th, 2017

Last week I got back from a college tour in California, and walked into my kitchen, having completely forgotten that we had renovated. Somehow the old kitchen with its ugly tile floor and falling-off cabinets had implanted itself in my head, and I walked in, momentarily delighted to see my kitchen again.

A couple of months on, this kitchen may be the best kitchen I have ever renovated, and I have renovated more than a few over the years. The Ilve Stove, aka The Sexy Beast, works just as beautifully as it looks, and I am back to cooking every night for the pack of kids (I have a bonus son for the next year, so we are back to five children at home. Long story. I shall save for another time).

I’ve even figured out how to use the French plate, although not without melting three plastic bottles and a packet of sea salt (that’s the problem with not using the French plate – it became an extra surface, and then I forgot it was on).

Every now and then I trawl the website of AJ Madison – the online store where I bought the Ilve – just to take a look at other stoves, to check I made the right decision, and I have yet to see anything more beautiful.

I have also learned the perils of a huge stainless steel counter when you have five cats, and have learned the easiest way to make that steel look as good as new. Johnson’s baby oil squeezed onto paper towel (not too much), shines the steel up beautifully. My wood-look tile and cabinets from Lowes are, if I do say so myself, genius. A tile floor with the number of bodies in this house, both four-legged and two-legged, is perhaps the most sensible decision I have ever made.

I am even training all the family to leave my beautiful Nantucket sink clean and empty, which is harder than it sounds. For some bizarre reason, everyone in my family goes through about four glasses of water each within the space of about two hours every evening, and each glass of water demands its own clean glass. The old glass is never put in the dishwasher, but left in the sink, and we are finally making some headway with the move towards the dishwasher.

Because we have had a garden filled with gorgeous flowers all summer, the vases on the island have been filled with fresh-cut flowers, although now we are heading into Autumn I am aiming to do something clever with white squash. I have no idea what it will be, only that I will doubtless be spending significant amounts of time on Pinterest for inspiration.

But mostly, the kitchen has done what it was supposed to, not just in terms of beauty, but in terms of gathering the people we love. The children no longer disappear up to their bedroom to do their homework alone after dinner, but sit around the kitchen table, working, and chatting, long into the evening. Friends have started dropping round again, and perch at the counter as I pour them a glass of rosé.

I said to Beloved at the beginning of the renovation, that once I had a new kitchen, I would be completely happy with the house and would never ask for anything again. So please don’t tell him that I am eyeing up the perfect spot for a sun room/dining room addition. Oh, and then there is the guest suite I’ve been thinking about adding above the garage…



October 13th, 2017

I have long said that the single most important factor for a loving relationship is kindness; putting your spouse before yourself, making sure that their comfort and happiness is of paramount importance.

Most of the time I am very good at looking after my spouse and being kind to him. And some of the time I am not. I am ashamed to say that our recent trip home from Iceland was me behaving my worst, and I am only telling this story publicly in the hopes that I will somehow absolve myself of guilt, because I can’t be alone in the way that I reacted.

Beloved, as some of you may know, surprised us all by showing up in Iceland (points! So many points!). Because it was last-minute, there were no economy tickets left, so he booked the only ticket available, which was first class. I, on the other hand, was in Premium Economy, which I had flown on the way out, and it was all rather comfortable and fine. I didn’t mind that Beloved was flying first class and I was not. In fact, when he offered me the seat, I decided that he had been working so hard of late, he should keep the seat; he deserved it. Of course, I would have preferred that we sit together, but I didn’t need the first class food, I had my books, and I was planning to sleep much of the ride.

As we were waiting by the gate, I noticed a very glamorous, attractive woman. She was about my age, with long hair, big sunglasses, and a wickedly cool fur-trimmed parka. She had the sort of look that I sometimes aspire to, a sort of effortless casual cool, that looks as if you have just rolled out of bed looking perfect.

We all got on the plane, and I discovered I was not in the good Premium Economy seats (which were the same as First Class, but without the food), but in the small economy seats with extra leg room. I looked across the heads at First Class, and there was my husband, standing in the first row of his section, next to the gorgeous woman from the gate. They were both laughing at something, and I watched as they sat down in their giant, comfy seats, their heads bobbing as they chatting animatedly.

A stewardess came and offered them champagne, and handed them menus for their meal. I know all this because I kept standing up, muttering furiously as I looked across the seats to see what was happening over there.

My husband was having far too good a time. Not only was he flying in comfort, he now had a gorgeous companion, and I am ashamed to say, I felt a deep wave of resentment wash over me. And so, I reverted to my very worst behavior. Despite the fact that there was a loo next to my seat, I decided to go to the loo at the front of first class.

And when I came out, I could see my husband and his new best friend looking at me, clearly waiting for me to say hello, but I carried on walking past them as if I didn’t know anyone in first class, let alone my traitor of a husband.

Beloved came back and offered to swap seats, which of course I couldn’t possibly do, far too ashamed of my bad behavior. I am slightly worried he may never surprise us again so I may have to set new ground rules – whatever class we are flying, we must all fly together. And no-one is allowed to sit next to someone spectacularly attractive unless they are prepared to ignore them for the whole flight.

On that note, I shall also attempt to put my big girl pants on and act my age, rather than my shoe size.


Book Club?

October 13th, 2017

Many of you know that my passions have long been community, and connection. I worry that by the time we hit mid-life, when our children have grown and flown, we are all increasingly isolated, hidden behind our computer screens and phones, forgetting how to connect, even though that’s what we long for.

It’s the reason why I started a creative co-working office space in my home town of Westport, CT, and the reason why, a few years ago, I started an active group in that same town that is now up to almost four thousand members. 

Today, I am thrilled to announce the start of something special, combining community, connection, and the other thing I truly love…books.

Most of you on here are huge readers. Because there’s nothing better than discussing books you love with other smart women, I am enormously excited to be launching The Jane Green Book Club. Every month we will pick a book, and get together to discuss it. If we’re very lucky, we may even get the occasional author to join in.

If you really want to make the most of it, bring your book groups on board, or start a Jane Green book club yourself, joining in the fun. I’ll be posting recipes and ideas for what to serve, and the occasional live chat with our guest authors.

I can’t wait to announce our first book. I read it recently and completely loved it. To find out what it is, make sure you like the Jane Green Book Club Page so you’ll be the first to hear.

Tag your friends who are big readers underneath this post, and click on this link, and like the page: Jane Green Book Club


Coffee WIthdrawal

October 4th, 2017

Every now and then I decide to give up caffeine, but it never lasts very long. Mostly because I am so extraordinarily healthy (mostly), that caffeine seems like the least harmful of all my vices, and so after a couple of weeks of mint tea (which is never the same), I start to think that life is too short, and go back to drinking my morning coffee, vowing not to give it up again.

Recently, my husband and I embarked on a three-month cleanse. In the past two months since we started, my husband has lost 20lbs and feels twenty years younger. I have lost almost nothing and feel exactly the same, apart from one significant difference: I am sleeping again.

I have not slept properly for years. I fall asleep quickly, but am always wide awake sometime between two and four, and am usually awake for hours, if not the rest of the night. The worst thing of all is that once I am resigned to being awake, I then reach for my phone, charging quietly on my nightstand, after which time all bets are off. I never thought you could spend hours on Facebook. What do all these people DO, I had wondered, hearing friends complain that they were wasting hours a day scrolling through their news feeds, until my middle-of-the-night sessions when I have found myself scrolling, sometimes until daybreak.

The cleanse we are on involves giving up all the usual things; essentially, anything delicious that makes life worthwhile. Sugar, carbs, dairy, legumes, alcohol, and caffeine. Some of it has been very easy for me. I haven’t really eaten a lot of dairy for years, so that hasn’t been a problem. Alcohol triggers my migraines, so I don’t drink. I thought sugar would be a hard one, but after a couple of weeks, I stopped thinking about it.

The one I was really going to miss, was caffeine, and because I decided to commit to this completely, I knew I had to stick to it. Along with the caffeine, I had decided to leave my iphone downstairs when I went up to bed. I wanted to get into bed and read, without having to put the book down every few minutes to check if something momentous had happened on social media since I last looked. I wanted to see what happens if I woke up at 2am, and didn’t automatically reach for my phone. I wanted to see if Beloved and I talked more, if neither of us were buried in our screens.

At this point, I have to say I am not someone who drinks a lot of coffee. Two cups perhaps, always in the morning, before 11am. I did not think for a second that it would affect my sleep. I do love a cup of tea, but only in winter, or I have a case of the blues. Not for a second did I believe giving up caffeine would affect my sleep.

How wrong I was. Once I get into bed, I have barely been able to read, because within three pages I am so sleepy, I have to switch off the light and close my eyes, after which point, I sleep like a baby. I still wake up at 2am, but now I am fast asleep again within minutes of getting back from the bathroom, with no phone to distract me and wake me up. When I awaken it is daylight, and rather than being 5am, it is usually 7am, and sometimes later. And Beloved and I talk! Yes! We actually talk!

I still miss my morning coffee. This cleanse is over in a couple of weeks, and there is much that I plan to continue. My life is much easier without sugar, and I feel better without flour. I would love to re-introduce coffee as my only sin, but I’m sleeping too well to even consider it, so shall spend this time trying very hard to develop a passion for mint tea.


The Large Hat

September 27th, 2017

When I was a very small child at junior school, I would often wrap my scarf around my entire head, and wander around the playground. Yes, clearly this was a little bizarre. I remember feeling completely safe, as if I was invisible, tucked up in my own little world.

I had the same feeling on the rare occasions we would have thick, pea soup fog in London. I had a long walk to the bus stop, and I remember very clearly walking through the fog, unable to see more than two feet in front of me, loving the isolation and peace, the feeling of being invisible.

This summer, I have discovered that a very large hat, with a downturned brim, gives me much the same feeling. Also, it is far more socially acceptable than wandering around with a scarf over my face, peering out through the tiny holes in between stitches in the wool.

For an introvert like myself, the discovery of a big hat may be life-changing. If I could have a superpower, it would undoubtedly be invisibility. Not for eavesdropping on people’s conversations – if I ever have the misfortune of overhearing someone talking about me, I scarper as quickly as I can, firmly of the belief that you are unlilkely to hear anything you will want to hear when you are eavesdropping – but for the feeling of privacy it allows.

I walked the beach yesterday with a giant hat on, the brim pulled low, so I could see everyone’s feet as they approached, but nothing more. And they could see a woman, with a giant hat on, so no-one (presumably) knew it was me.

There are days when I am quite sure I am an extroverted introvert. The truth is, I love people, and I am very happy in a crowd of people, as long as it is a crowd of people I have chosen for myself. I do not particularly like small talk, but I have a horror of running out of conversation, and so, should I find myself in an awkward conversation with a stranger, I have learned to fill silences with lots and lots of questions, and generally people are happy to open up and tell you about themselves.

There are days when I will gladly go to parties and chat, but there are other days when I would rather stick pens in my eyes than walk into a room filled with people I do not know. There are days when I do not want to see anyone, and I do not want anyone to see me, and although I do sometimes spend these days hiding at home, sometimes I need to be out in the world, even though I wish I wasn’t.

A very big hat is clearly the perfect solution to the days when the introversion gets the better of me, and I promise not to wrap a scarf around as well, unless snow is on the ground!

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Jane Green

Jane Green's fifteenth novel, Tempting Fate, is soon to be released; she is the author of fourteen previous New York Times Bestselling novels.

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