There were a lot of bodies in this particular bookshop; fortunately still alive but getting hotter and sweatier by the minute. It was a balmy July evening in Cambridge and Heffers' Bookshop was hosting its annual summer party for lovers of fiction's darker side.

I arrived early and had chance to look round this lovely and ancient city before meeting my lovely (but not remotely ancient- actually depressingly young) editor for a drink. She'd just handed over the final edits (Oh, I've heard that one before) on my next book when we were joined by Tom Cain, fellow Transworld author and creator of the fabulous Samuel Carver, otherwise known as The Accident Man.

The three of us got to Heffers to find the party in full swing. Tom and I, with alphabetically prominent surnames, had been assigned a table near the door - great from the point of view of visibility and fresh air. Less great, because we were sharing with two very popular authors: Alex Dryden and Chelsea Cain, and soon found ourselves elbowed aside by crowds of eager fans.

By 6.30pm I'd signed several copies of Sacrifice for a sweet lady from Wigan who was buying for her book club. (Note to self: next time you attend a signing, take a pen!) and was beginning to regret wearing high heels. By 7pm, my one and only fan had left the building, I could no longer get near my table for the hordes waiting for Chelsea and Alex and was wondering if anyone would notice if I removed the heels. 7.30 came around, my books were being used as drinks coasters by the Chelsea/Alex fans and the grin on my face was feeling decidedly fixed. Chelsea had succumbed to jet lag and was continuing her signing cross-legged on the floor. I was strongly tempted to join her but as I wasn't attended by hoardes of adoring fans, I figured I might just be mistaken for a drunk.

By 7.45, I could have cheerfully cut off both feet at the ankles, but I had had chance to say hello to the lovely chaps from Shotsmag, Ali Karim and Mike Stotter. I'd met both a few weeks earlier at a Transworld dinner during the Crimefest Convention in Bristol. Ali entertained the table with the story of the last time he'd moderated a panel discussion, had stayed up drinking all night and turned up for the panel hung-over and unable to function. As Ali was due to moderate my own panel the next day, I was less amused by this story than others were. In the event, though, he was perfectly professional and a complete star.

Would I go again? Most certainly. It was genuinely encouraging to see how many people really love this genre. Did I pick up any tips? Yes, get myself on a different table, wear flat shoes and take my own pen!