Sally Wentworth
Doreen was born on 1936 or 1937 in Watford, Hertfordshire, England, UK. She married Donald Alfred Hornsblow, with whom she has a son Keith, in 1968. The family lived in Braughing, England.
Doreen began her publishing career at a Fleet Street newspaper in London, where she thrived in the hectic atmosphere. She started writing after attending an evening class and sold her first novel to Mills & Boon in 1977, she published her novels under the pseudonym Sally Wentworth. Her novels were principally set in Great Britain or in exotic places like Canary Islands or Greece. Her first works are stand-alone novels, but in 1990s, she decided to create her first series. In 1991, she wrote a book in two parts about the Barclay twins and their great love, and in 1995, she wrote the Ties of Passion Trilogy about the Brodey family, that have money, looks, style, everything... except love.
Doreen was an accounts clerk at Associated Newspapers Ltd. in London, England, and accounts clerk at Consumers' Association in Hertford, England. In 1985, she was the founding chair of the Hertford Association of National Trust Members, and named its life president. She also collected knife rests and she was member of The Knife Rest Collectors Club.
Doreen Hornsblow died from cancer on 30 August 2001, at 64 years of age.
“There is also the basic inequality of being born either with a natural talent or without one. Clever or stupid. No matter how much you try to argue against it, Dora, we are not born equal. All we can ever strive for is the equality of opportunity for those who have the ability to make the most of it.”
“In a capitalist society there are always inequalities of class and wealth. People who inherit money and property will always see themselves as being superior to those who have to work for it.”
“I think it's wrong that only one percent of the people should own ninety percent of the country.”
“Are you a Communist, Dora?”
“You rich people are all the same. You couldn't care less about the other half of the world. They can all starve to death for all you care!”
“Veal! Trust these bloated plutocrats to eat the flesh of poor, newly-born calves!”
“The poor bloke must have been besotted. Now me, I'm just in love.”
“And believe me, darling, there's no man more faithful than a reformed playboy. They make far better husbands than men who haven't had time to sow their wild oats before they marry, so go off the rails at about forty-five because they suddenly realise that they've missed out on life and if they don't hurry up it's going to be too late.”