I’m guilty. Guilty of ignoring my website. Guilty of not posting anything here for, what? I think it must be two weeks now. Three? My WIP has so consumed me, I haven’t done anything else but edit, slash, trash and rewrite for days, weeks . . . feels like months. I think I may have
Eskimos have over 50 different words to describe snow, give or take a word here and there depending on dialect. According to David Robson in the January 2014 edition of New Scientist, “. . . languages evolve to suit the ideas and needs most crucial to the lives of their speakers.” Today, while researching an
Have you ever noticed no one reads romance novels? It’s always, “Oh, I don’t read those books,” or “Those books are trashy,” and “They’re nothing but sex.” No one reads them, and yet the romance novel industry is, according to Romance Writers of America, a 1.43 million dollar a year industry. Someone, somewhere, is reading
He swung up next to her on the seat, and after a silent apology to Weston he shrugged out of his coat and placed it around her shoulders. The mud would ruin it, but if she caught pneumonia she’d be at Bellwood for months, languishing. Even a plain country mouse could snare Robyn if she
Whether it’s a stolen kiss in the formal rose gardens, a desperate embrace on a solitary woodland path, or a passionate afternoon in the stable hay loft, the affair between historical romance novelists and the English country estate is an inevitable one, written in the stars, fated to be—a love match.