Thanks to Delilah for having me on her blog for the first time! What a great honor.
I write contemporary romance about sexy, alpha heroes in uniform: US Marines. Once upon a time, I learned the core values of the Marine Corps are Honor, Courage, and Commitment. These values resonated when I began writing romance. Namely, the courage part. In fact, I have a necklace with the word courage written in script that I wear every day.
My courage was sorely tested seven years ago. My oldest son, Patrick—the Patrick part of my pseudonym in the S. Patrick—at age nine was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. Incidentally, he turned 16 this week…how did THAT happen?! He’s the most courageous person I know.
Not to bore you with the details of this autoimmune disease, but it’s a 24x7x365 condition. Diabetes never sleeps…and neither does this mom. So, as I was up every three hours each night testing his blood glucose levels in the beginning of his diagnosis, and at times unable to get back to sleep…I wrote. About courageous heroes and heroines who overcome obstacles, push their limits, and show their mettle. What better subject matter, right?
This past weekend our family and friends participated in the JDRF One Walk in NJ for the seventh year. We celebrated Patrick’s courage in living with Type 1. Pat’s a stellar student and accomplished athlete. Nothing stops him.
We should all take a page out of his book.
It doesn’t have to be big mountains you climb, so to speak, to show courage, but simply getting up, facing what each day brings, good, bad and challenging. That equals courage in my book!
Oh, and coffee helps, too! Gets me through my day job.
Contest
What is your definition of courage? My guess is it manifests in different ways to different people. Comment below and include your email, and I’ll send one random commenter a Dunkin gift card!
Finders Keepers: The Purse
Now, onto some shameless plugging…
My latest book is part of a boxed set of stories called Finders Keepers: The Purse. Along with seven other marvelous romance authors we were given a prompt:
You find an item in your purse, you’re not sure how it got there, and how does it catapult your hero and heroine into their HEA?
So much fun to write!
My story, Flutter, involves my heroine Kit Caruso at her twenty-year high school reunion. Later that evening she finds military dog tags in her purse which happen to belong to her high school crush and the first man to break her heart, Matt Warton (aka Mac). He’s a former Marine and he wants Kit back in his life.
Yeah, that got interesting. I hope you explore this great set of feel good romance.
I have been a romance reader since I was a teenager. It’s my jam. I started writing my first romance novel when I was in college. I published my first novel in 2005 (historical romance under a different name) and have stuck to that particular subgenre pretty much the entirety of my career. And then something changed. Frankly I don’t really know what it was, but suddenly this romance world was much bigger than I’d ever acknowledged.
It started with a handful of steamy contemporaries. I’ve become a reading machine in the last three years (I’m not going to wholly blame it on the political climate, but that is a big reason…) Being a voracious reader isn’t entirely new for me as I was like this as a child, but somehow once I started writing I read fewer and fewer books. It made me sad it made it infinitely more difficult to fill my writing well when my reading well was bond dry.
But then I sorta got burnout and to compensate, I made reading a priority. Authors like Kate Canterbary, Pippa Grant, Mariana Zapata, Sally Thorne, Helen Hoang, Penny Reid and the list could literally go on FOREVER… and they just inspired me. I devoured their books and plenty of others. I went back and read a huge chunk of Susan Elizabeth Phillips backlist titles – ones I’d honestly never read. Somewhere in all of this I discovered science-fiction romance and hello mail order brides for aliens…yes, please! And y’all, I filled my well. My well was so overflowing.
So I started to write. And I wrote my first ever contemporary romance. It stretched me as a writer, but it also allowed me to play. To get a little naughtier. To use harsher language (f-bomb anyone – can’t really use those so much in traditional historical romance) and to just have a damn good time. Thus Kat Baxter was born. First in the form of a novella in the Men in Uniform anthology headlined by our hostess with the mostest (btw that word totally autocorrected to moistest – glad I caught that! LOL!), Delilah. Now in the my first full-length book, KNOCKING UP HIS BEST FRIEND, a best-friends to lovers/marriage of convenience/friends with benefits romance.
My goal, no matter what I’m writing – or reading for that matter – is to hit on authentic characters, people that feel like your friends or neighbors, real emotions….all the sexy feels, the laugh out louds. I want all of that.
So let’s chat books. What’s been your favorite read so far this year?
Knocking Up His Best Friend
Ally
Hot guy, medical intervention, turkey baster,
Whatever it takes.
I want a baby,
And I want that little bundle of joy now.
So when life knocks me down,
I decide getting knocked up is the only option.
And Cooper Janns is–has–a perfect specimen.
I want him–and his baby-making stuff.
But crossing that line with your best friend,
Just may be a disaster in the making.
Cooper
Anything.
I would do anything for Allyson Patterson.
Always have,
Always would.
After all, we’re best friends,
Have been since acne and raging hormones.
I’d cross any line she’d ask.
Even if it means offering an easy-peasy marriage
of convenience (and hopefully benefits.)
But, I’m in this for the long haul.
Knocking boots or knocking her up,
Either way, it’s a deal.
For good,
Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
*~*~*
Readers are already calling Kat Baxter’s KNOCKING UP HIS BEST FRIEND, laugh out loud funny, sweet and sexy and deeply emotional. Don’t miss this best friends to lovers, fake-relationship steamy romance with a sweet dirty-talking hero (who has been love with his best friend for years) and a sassy heroine (who will do just about anything to get a baby.)
GIVEAWAY
Free copy of Knocking Up His Best Friend. To play along do one of the following (or all of three!). And comment and tell me about your favorite read of the year.
I have been blessed to be surrounded by incredible women my whole life. My mother is one of three sisters. She had four daughters who had four daughters. So in my family alone, the estrogen factor was significant. And I am not exaggerating when I say that these are all accomplished and educated women. With sisters, aunts and nieces (not to mention a wonderful cousin or two) you would think I didn’t need girlfriends.
You’d be wrong. While I had girlfriends growing up – some of whom I remain friends with today – it wasn’t until my mid-20’s that I learned the true value of friends.
I moved away from home at age 26 and discovered the meaning of loneliness immediately. I lived in Boston – vibrant, young and exciting – but I explored Faneuil Hall, the Common, the Garden and everywhere else, alone. I worked with only eight people and they were men. I missed the women in my life until I met a few wonderful neighbors, just in time to move again. The process repeated.
I have found that it takes a while for women to develop true friendships. They need to find common interests and build rapport, then history. But I kept moving before I could make all that happen. I left New England with one friend – a lifelong friend, a true blessing in my life.
My career took off from all this movement and my husband was definitely wonderful company, but I know you’ll understand when I say that a job and a husband cannot replace a girlfriend.
After six years, I was finally blessed. I joined a huge company full of interesting people and I stayed in North Carolina, then California, long enough to forge friendships with amazing women. These are friendships that have outlasted our jobs, built now on history, mutual respect and admiration and the fact that they are empathetic and fun, really fun.
Recently, I spent time with 11 of them, and I was inspired to start a new romance series where my heroines are loosely based on my friends. The plots will be fictional, but the inspiration for my characters will come from these loving, generous, remarkable women. For example, my friend who walks a mile twice a day – rain or shine – to feed a stray cat that has come to love her. Or my dear friend who loves Broadway Theater, travel, romance and has friends across the globe. There is an amazing woman from Italy who left her home and family for the man she loves, while another married her high-school sweetheart. There are two who actually owe their happy marriages to introductions I made. All are smart, funny, quirky, and relatable.
The series – tentatively titled The Double Dare Romances – will offer glimpses of their stories occasionally, but mostly it will offer a hint of who these women are to me – supportive, kind, a family without the biological roots. Their strengths, and their quirks, will be lovingly conveyed through my heroines.
I hope you will enjoy the stories inspired by the wonderful women in my world. The series will be available mid-year 2020.
While you wait for this great new series check out my Beguiling Bachelors series. Bedazzledis the first book in the series and is only $.99 or free if you have KU.
A Chance Encounter Can Change Everything…
Keeli Larsen is second-guessing her decision to support herself as an independent jewelry designer. She has no money, no friends, but she knows she has talent…
Ready for a fun read? Something sexy with plenty of action outside the bedroom, too? Well, Quincy is here! Quincy is book #8 in my Montana Bounty Hunter series, but can be read as a standalone—although, I’m hoping you will read them all. You know it was fun for me coming up with unique personalities and takedowns for each story! I hope you’ll pick up your copy and read it right away! I’m dying to hear what you think of my former Army Ranger and his beautician girlfriend. Tamara (pronounced Tuh-mahr-uh in my head) reminded me of me when I was in my twenties. Spunky, mouthy, and willing to go after what she wants—and she wants Quincy!
If you read it, think about posting a review. Readers trust other readers to tell them when they’ll have a good time! And you’ll be helping out an author!!!
Quincy
MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Authentic Men… Real Adventures…
Former Army Ranger Quincy James and beautician Tamara Davis met under less than idyllic circumstances—trapped inside her doomsday-bunker-turned-beauty-shop while he was hunting a skip. Now that he’s settled into his new job with the Montana Bounty Hunters, he knows he’s dawdled too long asking her out on a legitimate date. But then, he gets a new case right in the pretty beautician’s neck of the woods. A dangerous new assignment he doesn’t want her anywhere near, However, NOT bumping into her proves tricky and when they do cross paths, he blows it.
Tamara’s already feeling foolish over the fact she got way too friendly with Quincy when they were trapped together, but then, he never contacts her again. When she sees him on the street in her little town, she’s ready to give him a piece of her mind, but he acts like he doesn’t know her. What the hell?
When the pair find themselves forced together again, there’s time for a reckoning…
I'm planning a new series, featuring police officers and private investigators in New Orleans, and I need help naming the series. Which of these ideas appeals to you?
Crescent City Heroes (21%, 3 Votes)
Big Easy Bad Boys (21%, 3 Votes)
New Orleans Nights (21%, 3 Votes)
Crescent City Blues (21%, 3 Votes)
Crescent City Bad Boys (7%, 1 Votes)
Men of the Big Easy (7%, 1 Votes)
Total Voters: 11
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If you have another suggested series name, list it in the comments, and I will add it to the poll!
What’s the last thing you wish you could’ve told your boss and not gotten fired for it? U.S. workers spend more than 13 years working over a 50-year career—about a quarter of their time. People could be so much happier if they could be honest with their employers without consequences.
Characters in novels often have work issues as a big source of conflict. Why? Because people can relate.
Gillian, the heroin in my romantic suspense, Becker Circle, could’ve used a few frank conversations with her accounting firm boss at her first job out of college. Her boss habitually dumped busy work on Gillian because she was single and had time to work at night. What? She also was one of those bosses who jumped all over anyone who arrived at work or from lunch five minutes late. Worst though, she swept a client’s obvious accounting dishonesty under the rug when Gillian found it during an audit, and then pulled her off the project.
The Japanese have it right. Their culture includes a practice called “nomminication” that encourages honesty in the workplace—both ways. It’s a combination of “nomu” or drink and “communication”. Bosses periodically host their employees for an evening out. When enjoying cocktails in this safe environment, employees can share whatever they’d like to say to their boss. Afterwards, employers don’t allow pay cuts or demotions or job transfers as retaliation.
As a marketing consultant who’s spent way too much time working, the concept intrigues me. I’m spoiled working for myself and thankful my job doesn’t force me to deal with awful bosses. I have fired clients. When I still had bosses, one kept piling more work on me because I wasn’t married or a mom and “didn’t have anything else to do,” she said. I told her it was too much. At raise time, she gave me this tiny, insulting salary increase. I walked out of her office and transferred to a more senior position working with a professional leader soon after, and never looked back.
The U.S. unemployment rate is the lowest it’s been in 49 years. Jobs should be fulfilling, not a sentence. Explore other opportunities inside and outside your company. If a reasonable conversation with your boss doesn’t work—with or without nomminication—the grass may indeed be greener, as the saying goes. It definitely worked for Gillian. And in the meantime, read a good novel with a kickass heroine who says everything you’ve wanted to say to your boss.
Everyone has a boss story worth repeating. Share yours!
Here’s a scene from Becker Circle where Gillian squares off with her unfair boss.
Becker Circle
EXCERPT
Just as the next person is halfway through her first sentence, I interrupt. “One more thing. I saw something weird in their books—like money’s disappearing.”
“What are you saying, Gillian?” Kim sits forward in her chair. “Are you implying embezzlement?”
“Well, yes. I don’t have the full trail together yet, but it looks suspicious.”
“We must be absolutely certain before making a claim like that.” She walks to the window and watches the cars on the freeway zip by. “Do you realize how serious this could be?” she turns and spits back.
I know she’ll be pissed at me for saying this, but I do anyway. “With all due respect, it sounds like you’re upset with me.” The entire table of my accountant coworkers inhales a collective breath and holds it waiting for Kim’s response. She stands at the window with her arms folded. Staring. “Isn’t this why we do audits?”
“I know, Gillian, you’re doing your job.” Kim turns back to the table. “But someone with more experience needs to handle this one.” She pauses and scans the faces around the conference table. Everyone’s looking somewhere else but at her. “Get with Bryan this afternoon. He’ll take it from here.”
Addison Brae lives in Dallas, Texas on the edge of downtown. She has been writing since childhood and continues today as an independent marketing consultant. She addicted to reading and enjoys jogging in her neighborhood park, sipping red wine, traveling the world, collecting interesting cocktail recipes, binge-watching TV series, vintage clothing, and hanging out with her artistic other half and their neurotic cat Lucy.
No doubt we all remember our ‘first time’, the night or day or whatever when we lost our virginity, but what about when we first became aware of ourselves as sexual creatures? I’m not sure why that question recently occurred to me, but I have the answer.
I was a pre-adolescent, playing with my collection of plastic horses, cowboys, and Indians (yes, I’m that old) pretending my plastic human had caught a wild horse and was trying out various ways to restrain the horse. I tied up a leg, roped two legs together, placed a rope around its neck and tied the poor creature to a plastic section of fence. As I studied the mare or stud I became aware of a tingling sensation between my legs. After looking around to make sure no one was watching, I started rubbing myself there. The tingling increased, became more and more pleasurable. For as long as I remained interested in plastic horses and humans, I continued to encourage the feelings I didn’t understand. Of course I explored other ways of arousing the sensations, but ropes often factored in.
Fast forward about a million years and capture/bondage fantasies still turn me on. I’ve written other kinds of erotica but the majority revolve around some kind of restraint. My publisher Stormy Nights specializes in spanking stories. Even though spanking as a turn on puzzles me somewhat, I’m having a great time using that umbrella to engage my characters in sexual worlds. My heroines find themselves restrained while my heroes focus on enhancing the experience. Equality be damned in this fictional world. It’s all about power vs. helplessness.
I took that dynamic with me while writing my latest release Mastering His Pet. Here’s part of the first spanking scene. To explain, Tanner is a powerful Elite in a world I call The Society while Carra is a lowly Other. No question who’s in charge…
Mastering His Pet
“You want to run,” he said. “You’re like a wild animal that has spotted a trap and is trying to decide what to do.”
He hadn’t asked a question, which she took as proof he knew her much better than he should have. She had to be careful around him, not reveal too much, not show weakness.
But how?
“Maybe you’re wondering whether you can outrun me so I’ll answer. Despite my size, I’m fast on my feet.” He paused. “Call it one more weapon in my survival arsenal. If you let instinct get the best of you, I’ll overtake you. Once I catch you things will get even worse than they’re about to become. For one, I’ll make sure you stay where I decide you belong.”
He was still making statements, maybe not interested in hearing anything from her. Feeling as if she’d fallen into a place and space she hadn’t known existed, she kept her attention locked on him.
“I will correct your behavior. Make sure you never forget this vital lesson.”
It took everything she had in her not to assure him she understood, but she didn’t dare completely give into him. If she did he might take everything from her.
“Unfasten your shorts. Pull them down to your knees. Do the same to your panties, if you’re wearing any.”
“I am.” What did he think? That she dressed so she was always ready to fuck? She’d heard enough about military life to know some women hung around the troops. Most were whores looking to make enough to keep themselves fed, clothed, and sheltered. Her understanding was they made more money with their legs spread than they could otherwise.
Nothing could ever make her do that. Could it?
With a start she realized she’d let her mind drift. Somewhere between embarrassment and curiosity, she did as he’d ordered. She was going to be spanked, no way out of it.
Feeling if she’d separated from her body, she straightened. Her sleeveless top was so long it reached her navel, not that she could take comfort in the pitiful protection. She’d exposed her belly, pelvis area, and upper legs. Mostly her bare ass was there, ready for his hand.
“You should have worn long pants. You’ve got scratches, red marks, and indentations on your knees and shins from kneeling on the roof. Not a smart move on your part.”
He leaned back with his arms crossed, looking slightly bored. Maybe he’d spanked so many women he saw the task as nothing more than a chore. In contrast, she couldn’t think beyond the next few minutes.
“You know what you’re supposed to do. Get into place.”
She was just out of his reach, which meant she still had time to bolt, to—no, she couldn’t. Not sure what she was feeling, she positioned herself close to his legs and carefully lowered herself onto his lap. Her bare skin touched a single layer of denim, trapping heat between them. Her belly rested on thighs that felt as if they’d been carved from stone. Most concerning, the sensitive area between her belly and legs pressed against him. It felt good. Wonderful in fact.
Dizzy from having her head low, she ran her fingers over the rough ground. She closed her eyes, held her breath. This wasn’t happening but it was.
“You don’t have any marks here,” he said, his fingers light on her ass. “Considering your behavior, my cousins never corrected you?”
“No.” Her voice was muffled.
“You better not be lying. It’ll only get worse if you are.”
He’d threatened her. She should take it to heart, but how could she when his hand now rested on her backside as if he had every right, which he did.
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“I’ll make that determination. You have an exquisite ass.” He rubbed it. Her head spun and her pussy tightened and twitched. “Knowing my cousins as I do, I’m well-aware of their mindset where women are concerned. Don’t try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I do.”
“That isn’t enough.” The pressure increased, not painful but impossible to ignore. Arousing. “Tell me, in detail, what takes place during their parties in the rooms without windows and with sound-deadening capabilities.”
“I’ve never been part of it.”
“They’ve never required your presence?”
“No.”
“If that’s the truth it constitutes a serious lack of judgment on their parts. An ass as delectable as this one should be put to use.”
“I’m more than an ass! You have no right saying—”
“Whether I do or don’t isn’t the issue. Might always wins.”
She was still processing his declaration when he slapped her. She jerked. A second blow immediately followed the first. Eyes squeezed closed, she tried to ready herself. Instead of continuing, he left her draped over him. He wasn’t done. She was sure of it.
“Do it!” She clamped a hand over her mouth then let her arm dangle again. What did staying quiet matter? She’d already angered him. “Get it over with.”
“All in good time, or should I say in my time. One way or the other you’re going to learn who is in charge.”
You are. If at all possible she’d keep from admitting that.
Her ass stung from the two sharp blows, the sensation sliding throughout her backside and going deep. She opened her eyes in an attempt to stop thinking about her pussy’s reaction. Weeds covered nearly every inch of the dirt she was looking at.
“Your life’s important.” He struck her a third time, this blow even more intense. “I will not have you treating it lightly. Being careless. If I have to keep you under control to keep you alive I’ll do it.”
“Under control?”
He closed his hands around her neck. “Restrained. Collared.”
Freud, if he hadn’t been so hung up on his belief that only damaged people fantasize, might have tried to understand dom/submissive dynamics. Looks like he left that up to me and other like-minded writers. My most recent releases, Mastering His Pet, Predator’s Pet, His Purchase and His Filly are all spanking stories, but my erotica has covered everything from spanking to shape-shifting, from primitive tribes to science fiction. I honestly don’t know how many sexy stories I’ve had published. It’d probably scare me if I tried to count them. I also write tamer stuff under another name and try to keep the two far, far apart. My free time is spent as a servant to two rescue dogs, hanging out with family and mostly writer friends, and, sadly, selling the family’s mountain cabin. The less I say about this year’s garden the better.
Meet Quincy and Tamara! Hope you enjoy the opening! ~DD
Located in Amity, Montana, the Suds & Saddlebags, or “S&S” for short, was your typical seedy biker bar. The popular dive smelled of sour beer, stale sweat, and motor oil. From the looks of the patrons, there were more firearms worn on hips or hidden under leather vests and jackets than likely sat in the local Army National Guard armory.
Quincy James hid his irritation that this stakeout was taking so long. He was finally here. In Amity. Near enough to whistle at the object of his frustration—the sexy proprietor of an unusual beauty shop, who by this point in time would likely flip him off rather than welcome him with open arms should he ever find the time to seek her out.
Shoulders slumping, he let out a deep breath.
Nearly a month had passed since he’d seen her. Her business card remained tucked inside his wallet. After they’d spent a very amorous afternoon trapped inside her doomsday-bunker-beauty-shop, he hadn’t called. At first, he’d reasoned he sucked at telephone courting and wanted to surprise her, in person, but after he’d spent ten days tracking a skip from south of Bozeman all the way through the Glacier National forest, and then being tapped to be part of teams hunting two more serious offenders, he knew he’d waited too long to even make an awkward as fuck call.
Tamara likely thought he was a bastard—a hit-it-and-quit-it kind of guy, but she’d be wrong. He’d had all the best intentions. When he’d had two minutes to fly down the aisles of a hardware store in Whitefish, he’d bought a knew door lock and deadbolt to take care of the problem that had trapped him inside Tamara’s beauty shop to begin with. The last thing he’d wanted was for the wrong person to find himself in that same tempting situation, someone who wouldn’t be quite as concerned as he’d been that the sexy things they’d done were welcomed and consensual.
The hardware was still in a paper bag beneath the front seat of his SUV—better than flowers, he’d thought at the time, but if he worked up the courage to face her wrath, he figured he’d better bring her at least a couple of dozen roses, too. Just to emphasize the fact he didn’t consider the gift she’d given him something he didn’t value. He did.
So much about their romantic encounter had stuck with him over the weeks since he’d left her behind after being freed from the locked bunker by his teammates. He remembered how soft she was—everywhere—from her fluffy pale blonde hair with its cotton-candy pink streak to the lush curves of her pocket-sized body, and her pink pouting lips. Good Lord, remembering those lips closing around his dick had left him sleepless and horny nearly every night since.
Damn, if they could just nail Tommy Walton’s ass quickly, he could be at her doorstep tonight. He wasn’t good with words, but he hoped if he came bearing gifts and she let him have just one kiss, she’d remember how good they were together, and then maybe she’d give him a chance to mutter through his litany of excuses for why he hadn’t so much as picked up a phone to call her.
He let out a deep breath. Hell, he didn’t deserve a second chance. A girl like her had to have plenty of more attentive suitors. Ones who didn’t disappear for weeks on end. Or who didn’t have dangerous jobs where they sat on their asses in smelly bars waiting for a dirtbag to show up.
“Goddamn, Winnie said Tommy always slips in here when it gets busy,” Hook groused from his table situated close to the entrance of the bar. “Safety in numbers, she said. He knows his crew will have his back if anything goes down.”
After all this time working with the Montana Bounty Hunters, Quincy still wasn’t used to hearing them in his ear. They used state-of-the-art devices, nearly impossible to detect because they were so small. He picked up his beer to hide his lips as he replied, “Some girlfriend, selling him out for a hundred.”
“Winnie’s got her eye on the club’s number two,” Hook said softly, “but Tommy keeps escaping arrest. She knows she’d be in deep shit if she sleeps around on him before he goes to jail.”
“Sounds like a sweetheart,” Dagger murmured, then, “Shit, think I’ve been made.”
Quincy leaned back in his chair next to the window overlooking the street outside and glanced around. Sure enough, two men at a table nearer the bar were staring at Dagger, leaning close together and whispering between themselves.
“The ballcap didn’t cut it,” Hook said.
Dagger was one of the breakout stars of the reality TV show, Bounty Hunters of the Northwest, which featured most of the hunters in MBH. Dagger was a standout due in most part to the fact he was “Bounty Hunter Barbie’s” man. Most times, he had to wear intricate disguises when he wanted to remain unnoticed, but they’d been in a hurry to hustle to the S&S after hearing from Winnie.
“Sucks to be famous,” Hook said then chuckled.
Dagger grunted. “Your turn in the spotlight’s comin’.”
“Maybe they just want an autograph,” Quincy said, his lips twitching. No way in hell would he ever sign up for that gig. He liked his privacy, thank you very much.
From the corner of his eye, Quincy saw one of the men stand then glance around. The biker tipped his goatee at the bald dude behind the bar then turned his gaze to Dagger.
Nearly every gaze in the place moved to his teammate. Quincy turned in his seat, pretending not to know what was going on, and casting his gaze over the suddenly silent crowd, hoping to guess the direction from which trouble was most likely to come.
From the corner of his eye, he watched as Tommy Walton stepped out of the hallway that led to the back of the club. “Well, fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
I have been a romance reader since I was a teenager. It’s my jam. I started writing my first romance novel when I was in college. I published my first novel in 2005 (historical romance under a different name) and have stuck to that particular subgenre pretty much the entirety of my career. And then something changed. Frankly I don’t really know what it was, but suddenly this romance world was much bigger than I’d ever acknowledged.
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