I’ve had the privilege of spending two wonderful chunks of time with my family in Adelaide, Australia.  On our first visit I was entranced with everything I saw and read, but one lone sentence stuck with me.  In the nineteenth century a fabulous pearl found off Australia’s coast brought bad luck to everyone who owned it.

Wouldn’t that fascinate anybody?  For ten years that tidbit haunted me, and when our family had the opportunity to travel down under again, I enthusiastically agreed.  This time I would find out more about the pearl.

A book had been waiting patiently for me, of course.  We traveled to Broome in Western Australia and spent nearly a week, where we sailed on an old pearling lugger, visited a pearl farm, and stayed at the historic Roebuck Hotel–one thin wall away from the dance floor, unfortunately.  I bought books, visited historical societies and formed my story.  And I knew, as soon as I saw Mark Twain’s wonderful quote about Australia, that I had found my title. 

Twain said: "Australian history is almost always picturesque; indeed, it is so curious and strange that it is itself the chiefest novelty the country has to offer....It does not read like history, but like the most beautiful lies."

It does indeed.