The real story behind The Champagne Cartel

There are some stories that arrive slowly.

A whisper, a nudge, a gentle idea that grows over time.

And then there are the stories that hit you like a champagne cork to the forehead.

The Champagne Cartel was both.

Most people assume the title came after the plot, but the truth is the name existed long before the book did. It was born inside one of my girl‑gang group chats. The kind where the only agenda is When is our next champagne sesh because we need to discuss our macros. 

Those chats became the heartbeat of the book.

But the story? That came from something far less bubbly.

Two months before I started writing, my family home was broken into at 4am. A youth slipped inside, grabbed my son’s car keys, and went searching for mine. My (then) 21‑year‑old son woke up, chased him out, and prevented both cars from being stolen. We were lucky, but the experience rattled me in a way I didn’t expect.

When I started digging through local community pages, I realised our incident wasn’t isolated. Break‑ins. Black cars. High‑performance vehicles. Always around 4am. Always the same pattern. It felt strangely cinematic.

And that’s when the writer‑brain kicked in.

Who steals cars at 4am? Why that time? Where do they go?   I didn’t know the real answers but my imagination certainly did.

From that mix of fear, curiosity, and fierce protectiveness (the kind only a mother and community‑minded woman can understand), the seed of The Champagne Cartel took root.

Once I layered in the humour, heart, and chaos inspired by my many friendship circles, the story practically wrote itself.

I set the book on Sydney’s North Shore, partly because of my love for the Real Housewives franchise, and partly because I needed the story to feel fictional enough that I could sleep at night.

And if you’ve read the book, you’ll know it’s dialogue‑heavy. That’s because it was originally meant to be a screenplay until a dear writer friend said, “No, Leanne, this needs to be a novel first.” She was right. It was the perfect story for my foray into adult fiction.

In the end, The Champagne Cartel became my love letter to female friendship, suburban justice, and the wild, wonderful ways women show up for each other when life gets messy, dangerous, or downright ridiculous.

If you’ve ever had a girl gang, a group chat with a stupid name that keeps you sane, or a moment where fear turned into fierce determination, then this book was written for you.

Cheers, Leanne xoxo