Sourcebooks Casablanca Romance Authors

So for as long as I've known my husband, the only place he ever talks about wanting to see is the Grand Canyon.  Seriously, every time we try to plan a vacation, that's where he wants to go.  And for 27 years, we haven't.  It's not that I don't WANT to see it, I just don't want to see it the way that HE wants to see it. Bad wife.  I know. Next month we are going to the RT Booklovers Convention in Las Vegas.  That's right...we.  I'm bringing my husband with me - it's sort of close to our 25th wedding anniversary - and while we're there we are going to cross the number one thing off of his bucket list and go to the Grand Canyon.  Did I cave on riding a donkey down into the canyon?  No.  Am I camping in the canyon?  No.  Am I standing on that clear bridge that just the thought of makes me queasy?  No.  I decided to go big or go home and we are taking a helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon! Kid. You. Not. Neither of u...

Summer was always my favorite time of year. When we were kids we’d take turns staying with our great aunt and great-grandfather in their rambling Victorian in Maplewood…playing hide and seek in and around their yard and ancient Mimosa tree, running up and down the back stair case from cellar to attic, getting yelled at for trying to ride the dumb waiter from the second floor down to the basement, catching lightning bugs, and walking to the park… Or our grandparents’ summer home in Spring Lake…swimming in the huge salt water pool at the South End Pavilion... Playing in the sand or the ocean, walking across the wooden bridges spanning the lake to feed the ducks... Eating ice cream at Peterson’s or catching a movie at the Ritz...both fixtures of the community just a half a block from the beach...sadly both long gone. Walking on the boardwalk past the three huge hotels, built at the turn of the century that heralded a forgotten era…on the 'Irish Riviera....