Sourcebooks Casablanca Romance Authors

Every year, when Christmas Eve finally arrives, I sit back and think, I love this day . Christmas is wonderful, but the day itself is always gone in a flash of brightly colored frenzy, leaving both children and adults semi-catatonic by noon. Christmas Eve, though...that's where the magic is, at least for me. And that's why this day, not tomorrow, is my favorite day of the year. The stockings hang over the fireplace, ready to be filled. The tree glows gently, every beautiful present still wrapped beneath it. For once, the children are anxious to get to bed (but not before they've made sure, via NORAD's Santa Tracker, that the man himself is definitely on his way). The promise of Christmas is everywhere, the bayberry-scented air thick with it. It's finally here. Well, almost. But it's the anticipation, as we romance writers know well, that final instant before the thing we've been waiting for, that's really the most poignant...and often, the most fun. The ...

Hey, human playthings. What's up? I'm Bruno, and I'll be your guest blogger for today. Yeah, that's me in the picture. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, okay? It takes long hours of relaxation to get a belly like mine. I know, I know. You wanna touch it, right? Everyone does. Lucky you, I'm into belly rubs. No poking, though. I still have my claws. The pet human chose wisely and let me keep those. Unlike some other things that I'd rather not talk about. So normally I don't blog, being that cat humor is a little too refined for you human types. Well, and also that my claws stick in the keyboard. But I took mercy on my pet, because she's starting to look a little rough these days, muttering about something called a deadline and writing in her pajamas all day. I mean, the leopard print pajamas show very good taste, don't get me wrong, but I really need her in top condition to feed me and rub my belly and hang out with me and, ...

Mom beamed. I tried to ignore it. After all, the woman had been trying to get me to take a look at Calvin for years. It’s so annoying when she’s right. And wow, I had to admit, was she ever. Calvin didn’t even wait to hear if there were any other bids, just swept toward me wearing that sexy feline grin I was sure I could get used to seeing on a regular basis. The tattered remnants of the wildest bachelor auction in our little town’s history staggered to make way for him. The quarterback was walking with a definite limp, I noticed, and the knight, finally giving up on his malfunctioning costume, tore his helmet off and hurled it away from him with a frustrated growl. Not bad , I decided, taking in the flowing blond locks that tumbled over his shoulders. But he’s no Calvin . Who would have thought, before today, that I’d be thinking that with a racing pulse and butterflies in my stomach? Calvin strode to me, stopping only inches away. I barely heard the delighted squeals of the c...

Oh my God, I did not just say that…I did not just THINK that… Calvin, not seeming to notice my inner turmoil, just frowned down at me, obviously intrigued. “Really? What’s wrong with the eyebrows?” “They look like caterpillars about to mate,” I sighed, and when he looked more affronted than receptive, I took matters into my own hands. “Here,” I said. “If you just did this…” I reached up and pulled off the offending brows as easily as I might have ripped off a couple of band-aids. Fortunately, most of his actual eyebrow hair stayed in place, a miracle with the amount of glue he’d used. I stepped back and surveyed my handiwork. And despite the bleeding, which really wasn’t very bad, I was even more pleasantly surprised at what I saw. Calvin Seersucker, beneath the layers of costumed geekiness, was definitely not an ugly duckling anymore. “Now for the ears and cape,” I said, ignoring the mulish expression he gave me in return. “Come on. Hand them over. You can’t be a Vulcan Zorro starship...