It’s my Twelfth (!) Call-iversary

May 8, 2024

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On this day in 2012, I received a call from London telling me that Mills & Boon wanted to buy my book, which became No Longer Forbidden. Whenever I talk about The Call, people say, “That must have been so exciting!”

It was, in the same way that jumping from an airplane is exciting. (I presume. You’ll never catch me doing it.)

I had signed up for this plunge into the wild rush that is publishing, though. I packed my parachute and I climbed on the plane and I said yes, push me out. And I was terrified.

Writing romance is a strange dream to have. It’s even stranger to have that dream come true. For years I was sure that I would wake at some point and it would all be gone.

The truly astonishing part is waking up to realize twelve years and eighty-five books have whistled by. I don’t know how it happened. I write a book and then I write another one. That’s my secret to having a career in writing romance. Your mileage may vary.

And yes, sometimes I’m still terrified. Publishing is full of turbulence and tornadoes and sometimes books are a tangled mess that do not open properly. (I’m looking at you, book number eighty-five.)

I’m also still excited. Look at all these books launching this year! Yes, there are ten of them. It’s an embarrassment of riches, but I adore each and every one of them. They’re funny and heart-achy and sexy and sweet, just like all the ones that came before.

I love my job. I get to make up bonkers plots where characters fake amnesia and hide surrogate pregnancies and get trapped on an island with their sworn enemy (whom they bang then marry, obviously.)

I get to visit the Old West when women couldn’t vote and you had to walk across town to deliver a message and survival was a daily struggle.

I get to immerse myself in one of my *favourite places on earth, BC’s West Coast, and fill it with people who feel like my friends.

The actual writing is the dream-state. I think that’s why I do it. In your dreams, you don’t need a parachute. You can fly and it’s the best feeling in the world.

Sometimes I see a neighbour or an old friend and they ask, “Are you still writing?” Yes. By some miracle, I am still writing. I can’t imagine doing anything else.

I’m grateful to Harlequin and Tule and Entangled for publishing my books, but I’m even more grateful to you, Gorgeous Reader Of Romance. Thank you for loving my books as much as I do. Thank you for helping me live my dream.

*Favourite spelled with a ‘u’ because those books are Canadian, like me.

Hooray! The Saloon Girl is here!

May 7, 2024

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Get yourself your beverage of choice and clink it with mine! I’m celebrating the release of The Saloon Girl’s Only Shot! It’s as cheeky as homemade whiskey and will erase your cares for a few hours, especially if you consume it straight.

The Saloon Girl’s Only Shot can be read as a stand-alone, but takes place in the same gold-rush Denver as The Prospector’s Only Prospect.

I wanted Owen, Virgil’s best friend, to be my next Quail’s Creek hero because he’s the opposite of Virgil–charming and talkative and a bit of a pot-stirrer. I was curious why Owen and Virgil are such loyal friends and what made Owen aspire to saloon-keeping.

I don’t want to give too much away, but he had a tragedy in his past and struggles on another level as an adult. Both of those things make him the perfect match for Temperance. She’s resilient and resourceful, but she’s sensitive to the scandal in her past. Owen not only doesn’t judge her for it, he puts it in perspective so she begins to forgive herself.

That’s after he refuses to hire her, gets her fired (twice!), offers her the bed he’s already using, then finally hires her himself. Also after he steals a dog for which she gets blamed and sends her to the dress shop where she gets Pretty-Womaned.

Temperance goes through a lot, but she also makes some really nice women friends and learns to stick up for herself and discovers who threw the horseshoe through the window before she saves Owen’s life.

It’s a rollicking adventure that also includes, at my son-in-law’s express request, a brawl in a saloon.

I can’t wait for you to belly-up to the bar and get into this one.

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