Sourcebooks Casablanca Romance Authors

Rats. Are. Disgusting. I don't think many people would disagree with me. After my husband and I married 22 years ago, we rented a very small two bedroom home out in the middle of nowhere because that's what we could afford at the time. The house sat near a creek, and I thought how lovely. Sure. That was the dream until we found a handful of rats invading our territory. My first misconception was that rats were drawn to dirty, trashy houses. Well, my house was spotless, and we didn't have any trash around. But that didn't matter. The creek in the back of our house drew the rats. And boy did those critters love our basement. My husband would often find those buggers in the traps, and I can't lie. They were gray, ugly, and sometimes as big as cats. *shiver* Note: Thank God my husband grew up on a farm. My husband and I have come a long way since then. We have a house we call our own and have two kids and a mixed lab named Zoe. So imagine my surprise when...

Not long ago, my daughter (known online as Little Miss R) brought this essay home from her first-grade class. Look at that! I have a cool job! I was pretty delighted by this. This past weekend, LMR picked up a pretty bad virus that kept her home with me for four days straight. To pass the time on one of those days, I decided to interview her. Here's how it went. I typed exactly what she said--except for the end, when she begged me to let her have a turn at the keyboard. *     *     * Me: You’re home today because you’re sick. And I’m home with you because this is where I do my work. What do you know about my work? LMR: You write books. And you write them about ladies in dresses. They all have shiny words on the front. Me: That’s all true. What are your favorite kinds of books? LMR: Ones that are Garfield books and princess books. I like them because there are movies based on them and I like movies that are from books. Me: So you like w...

Last week, my daughter asked me what I wanted for Christmas. She's five and spends her 50 cents a week allowance as soon as she gets it, so she has about 8 cents to her name. I couldn't think of a single thing to tell her. It was so incredibly sweet of her to ask me what I wanted. I wanted to tell her I just wanted to have a nice holiday with her or for everyone to stay safe and healthy, but I knew she wouldn't accept those answers. She wants to give me something tangible. I ran through the list I'd given my family, trying to think of something she could manage. Fitbit? No. Kindle? No. New running shoes? No. Finally Princess Galen chimed in: Mommy, I thought you might want a book to read. Me: Yes, I love reading books, but I can't think of any I want at the moment. (By which I meant, none she could get me) Princess Galen: Maybe I could write a book for you. Me: I'd love that. PG: I could draw all the pictures too. Me: That would be great. You...

Last week, my five-year-old daughter--known online as Little Miss R--was on spring break. We had playdates. We went to the park and the library. We covered the driveway with elaborate chalk drawings. We made sheaves of art. And she built fort after fort out of my paperbacks, continuing a family tradition . "This is a doll of me," said Little Miss R. "Or you. We both have brown hair." The 85th time I tried to cram in a few minutes of work while she constructed a romance-novel ziggurat next to my desk, we wound up having a rather humbling interview. Since I was at my computer, I typed it all out: TR: What’s my job? LMR: Your job is to make books. TR: What kind of books? LMR: Books where the people get girlfriends and boyfriends because they love each other. TR: Do you like that kind of story? LMR: Um…no. They’re way too hard to read. And there’s lots of kissing and I don’t like that. But I like the covers. The covers ...

With every passing year, I’ve learned to appreciate the innocence of youth. Frankly, I miss it. In today's crazy world where our children are forced to mature much more quickly, I yearn for the blissful unawareness of being young. Responsibility? What’s that? My son is seven and my daughter is twelve. I try to protect them, keeping the world full of rainbows and wishes. I am constantly reminded that they are simply kids. I want the best for them, and I want them to embrace life and treasure it. As many mothers can attest, our children ask many questions—some of them which are repeated over and over and over and over. In addition to the relentless questions, we can’t overlook the words that escape from said lips as well. For instance, the other day my son says, "I'm so glad I'm a boy." When I asked him why, this was his response that was presented to me in a sing-song voice. "I can pee standing up. I can pee outside. I don't have to wear a bra. ...

Today is the last day of school, woe is me. The School Board didn’t even have the decency to make it a full day. At 1:00 my blessed alone time will have become a thing of the past, for the summer at least, and my seven hours of writing time will be cut by at least 75%. Actually, by the time you read this, my kids will be looking into my office from the doorway telling me they’re bored, or that they’re hungry and can’t possibly cook breakfast for themselves, or worse yet, they’ll cook and I get to clean up after them. Then later, they’ll stare at me until I stop writing, look at them, and growl, “What?” at which time they’ll ask. “How’s the writing going?” This is what I have to look forward to for the next three months, God help me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, really, but I don’t mind when they’re away from me between the hours of 8AM and 3PM. My youngest gave me a hug before climbing onto the bus and said she couldn’t wait until tomorrow so we could spend more quality time tog...

So I was at National last week, and attending the Leadership Retreat on Wednesday (I'm my chapter's president) and I get a text message from Child A. (Mind you, this meeting I'm in has all sorts of info regarding new IRS rules governing non-profit organizations and we have to bring our chapters in line with National's stance to fulfill these rules, so I'm taking copious notes. Let me also say that the children were in the care of their grandmother because my husband had a last-minute meeting out of town that he had to attend, which had NOT been in the original plan when I decided to go to National.) The texts went something like this: Child A : "Mom, can I get a hamster?" Me : "Fine, but you have to pay for it." Child A : "Okay. Can Child B get a ferrett?" Me : "NO ferrett!" Child A: "Why not?" Me : "Because they're too expensive and we have dogs." Child B now takes the phone from Child A and starts t...