A few thoughts for the Holiday Season.

It's Christmas Eve, one of my favorite times of the year, and I'm putting the finishing touches on a Christmas ham to take to my daughter-in-laws, and a broccoli salad, chicken bone candies, dulse, oranges, all things we had for the Christmas season when I was a child. I'd like to wish all the Everlasting Authors and those who read this blog the very happiest of seasons and a wonderful New Year.
Sincerly,
Stella MacLean

A Great Exercise

I just returned from an office holiday party – nothing fancy, just a lot of good food, good will and lots of laughter. I’ll miss this place in the new year when my day job disappears and my writing takes over on a full-time basis.

2008 is coming. Another new year when anything can happen. A year for new beginnings if we so choose. A year for new ideas. And another opportunity to embrace the blessings in our lives and simply take time to appreciate them.

On the bulletin board in front of my desk is a sunshiny picture of a dad holding hands with his two young daughters as they jump into a mountain lake. The caption reads, “Jumping for joy is good exercise.” Looking at that picture makes me smile every single time.

I wish you new beginnings if you want them, continued blessings to embrace, all the joy you can hold whether you jump into a mountain lake or not, and an everlasting number of wonderful stories to read.

Linda

MEMORIES

I thought talking about memories would be appropriate to the season and to the stories all of us write for Everlasting Love. Stories are so often sparked by remembering something good that happened in life, or something that wasn't so good. Happenings that make a person or a couple learn and stretch and grow. The holiday season is the best time for bringing out happy traditions. Fun, laughter, food that only gets cooked once a year. Since we're really getting down to the wire toward Christmas, and those who celebrate Hanukkah are already busy with their traditions, I wish the best of everything for all of the Everlasting authors and our readers. I hope the New Year brings another batch of great stories based on memories reaching back into our pasts or those of the characters we create.
Make the most of every day, and take care to savor the memory making moments as they come. Blessings to one and all,
Roz

Winter Wonderland

Stella wrote about snow last week and when I decided to write for today, I realized I had to bring up the same subject. We had our first winter storm this weekend. Last year, our area in the Midwest was out of power for several weeks in some areas. We were more fortunate. . . our part of the neighborhood has underground power cables. We lost our cable system -- and Internet connection -- but we stayed warm. Friends came over a couple times to use showers and eat dinner with regular lights instead of candles and various camping lanterns.

Once I have my family home safe, I love the days when life has to stop for Mother Nature. At least once a season, everything around here shuts down for a day or two. No one goes to school. Most of the stores are in minimum employee mode (last year, our shopping mall shut down for part of the time -- no electricity and the parking lots were too dangerous). We have a chance to slow down and pay attention to what's around us.

Since this is our day for writing about love, I thought I'd also borrow a page from Stella's comments. My husband went outside to trim some branches that are heavy with ice and hanging over the road. Dangerous for the few people who have ventured out. He rearranged the garage so that my car could come inside for the duration of the storm. We'll share some cooking time in the kitchen and no one will complain about sitting down together to eat, since what else is there to do? My teenage son asked me to play a game with him last night. Later, we'll make a fire and probably watch a movie together or play another game.

I always think of how these days can be blessings in disguise. Small moments that are treasured because they don't come very often. Nora Roberts credits a snowstorm -- trapped inside with two small boys -- for her start in romance writing. How lucky for all of us romance readers and writers! Who knows what new love stories will appear after this winter season?

One of life's lovely moments.

Today is what we on this blog call "Fun Friday". And my fun this week is a trip to Kalamazoo, Michigan to see my granddaughter, Estela.
At 28 months of age, Estela subscribes to the "parrot" philosophy, and so repeats every word she hears. My daughter and her hubby have had to censor some of their own words and off-the-cuff remarks in recognition of this new philosophy.
But the other day, Estela dropped her parrot philosophy to announce that for Christmas she wants a tail.
Yeah, her house is home to two very pleasant cats who have beautiful tails, and Estela wants one just like the ones they have. Children have such beautiful, uncluttered minds, don't they?
But what do I do with a request like that? I've been checking out all the craft shops and costume places, but any tails I found came with full size adult costumes!
Her mother has given up on the issue, and like all parents who feel that the Christmas wish can't be met, she's trying to steer Estela into other areas of possible gifts.
As grandmother to this wonderful little girl, Job 1 when I get to Kalamazoo is to continue the search for a tail.
I'll be back here in about two weeks time, and give you an update.
Stella MacLean

Snow, snow, and more snow.

Yesterday was my day to post a message and the theme was the magic of love. But mother nature decided to prove just what a tough task mistress she can be. She announced yesterday that winter is officially here by snowing for twelve hours, and the weather man predicts it will snow most of today.
What's magical about it? Blizzards have their own special magic, especially if you make it to the grocery store BEFORE the snow starts. What's love got to do with a blizzard?
Well, first of all, my hubby did all the cleaning of the snow off the vehicles, and drove me to the local print shop to get my ARCS printed. It's only 6AM here, but he will spend a good chunk of the day taking snow off the walks and the deck. Weather like this always makes him want to cook something. He'll make biscuits, and cook dinner.
I think I'll fire up the bread maker, make spaghetti sauce, and do a whole lot of Christmas wrapping. And yes, a day like today is perfect for writing.
For those of you who have never been tucked away in your house during a blizzard, you are really missing something special. EVERYTHING is white, the ground looks like a huge white sea, and the air is alive with whirling snow.
When this white deluge is over, all our neighbors will be out clearing snow. I can hear snowmobiles outside my house already. In this kind of weather, four wheel drive vehicles and ploughs travel together to get essential personel into hospitals and fire departments. There are snow routes through the city that are kept open.
There is a mountain of snow on our front lawn. I have a sneaking suspicion that our power is about to fail, so I'll stop for now.
Stella MacLean

A WEEKEND WRITER NO MORE --

Wednesday is about writing, and I certainly have something to share today.

On Monday of this week, I submitted a letter of resignation at my day job. I say it’s time. My writing friends say, it’s about time.

After fifteen years of working in education and employment programs with disadvantaged clients, the last seven of which also included a second job - writing novels for Harlequin - I had reached a crossroad. It’s not because I wanted to tell my employer to “take this job and shove it.” In fact, I’ve derived immense satisfaction from assisting people to earn their GED diplomas, construct resumes for their job search, and provide food from our pantry when they needed sustenance. I have enjoyed the camaraderie of co-workers whose goals were similar to mine. Lunchtime with some of my peers has resulted in good friendships.

I have also enjoyed receiving a paycheck every week! Writers are self-employed with income arriving sporadically.

I will miss the day job; I do not leave it lightly. But time is passing.

I know I am fortunate to have tasted success as a novelist. The pleasure of connecting with readers who write to me about my stories, the author friends I’ve made, and the joy I’ve had in delving deeply into the craft itself cannot be overstated. I’ve loved it all! And want more. My goal is a full-time writing career. Are there stories I might imagine if I had more time to dream, or to conduct research? Do I have the skills to flex more writing muscle? Frankly, I don’t know. But I want to find out. And time is passing.

I have already lived the dreams of every little girl – falling in love, becoming a young wife, a new mother, an equal partner in a wonderful marriage. I count my blessings every single day. And although time is passing, there is a season for everything. This is my season for a new dream.

I wish you many seasons and many dreams.

Linda, who loves reading and writing Everlasting Love stories

Holiday Magic

As many of us have, I’ve just emerged from five days of stepping outside my daily routine to celebrate Thanksgiving with family and friends. I have hosted the celebration at my home for the last twenty-seven years, when the table has been set for anywhere from six to thirty people. We always seem to manage to find room for those who cannot be with their own families—friends of my children from California or Texas or Louisiana; exchange students from Austria or Croatia; German colleagues of my husband who first discovered apple pie and sweet potato casserole at our dining room table. It’s a great joy to me to prepare and share a meal with others that echoes dishes created by the many women who preceded me in the kitchens of my life.

My home since last Wednesday has been filled with sunlight and laughter; the warmth of a woodstove and the quiet of young people curled up on couches reading; the beat of the latest rock group thumping through the floorboards from the rec room in the basement and the energy of fifteen teenagers devouring turkey fajitas and chocolate chip cookies; my husband’s arms around me as we luxuriated in four days of no alarm clocks or early morning commutes.

It was a magical time to slow the often frenetic pace of our lives and acknowledge all the blessings we have—in our children, in each other. Yesterday afternoon, as I emerged covered in twigs and leaf fragments after spending three hours plucking piles of oak leaves from our yard (one of the costs of living in New England), my husband simply embraced me in the middle of the driveway—a thank you for sharing the work and enjoying a glorious day.

It is these moments of peace and gratitude and generosity that are the true magic of long-lasting love.

Fun Friday

Something fun for this Friday?
Real easy. Shopping, shopping and more shopping!
But I'd like to add a twist to this idea.
Let's call it an educational opportunity.
Why not have a guy's night in? That is, while you're shopping, why
not have the man in your life do the post-Thanksgiving evening meal?
Sure, he'll probably serve leftover turkey,but it's for a good cause.
Here's the educational part; if he doesn't cook now, he'll have an easy meal
on which to begin his chef experience. If he's already a good cook, he'll do
something really amazing with yesterday's turkey.
Either way, the lady of the house will get a well deserved break.
Stella

Thanksgiving Rituals

I know this is supposed to be Writer's Wednesday, but as Thanksgiving is tomorrow I thought I'd deviate a little from the schedule. I've been cooking all day-- doing the baking, pre-cooking the sweet potatoes, making the stuffing, etc. so that tomorrow will be a fairly restful day and I can spend it with my family (watching football with the boys) and our guests (more of the same).

I have to admit, I haven't been near a computer all week-- at least not to write anything more in-depth than a couple of blog posts. But sometimes, I think what I've done this week-- clean, cook and ready the house for Thanksgiving-- is as important to my writing as sitting in front of the computer and pounding out the words. Because it's renewed me (except, of course, for the cleaning which just exhausted me) and reminded me how grateful I am for my family and friends and all the other wonderful things in my life.

I wish all of you a wonderful and happy Thanksgiving, filled with love and happiness. May each of you experience peace and happiness as this holiday season kicks off.

Tasty Tuesdays all over again.

My husband and I once owned a house on the shores of Minas Basin, which has some of the highest tides in the world. It’s a beautiful spot, but somewhat remote. This meant that you had to be a really good grocery list maker to have all the necessary ingredients in the house, and a freezer to match.
The community in which we lived had many social events involving food, or course.
This recipe is one that came out of chasing around the kitchen looking for ingredients to make a promised dessert—ingredients I’d left off the infamous list. With the Thanksgiving holiday upon us, this would be a quick dessert, and a pretty one as well.
You need one of those prepared graham cracker crusts. (Or you can make one with 2cups of crushed graham crackers and ½ cup of butter, blended together, pressed into a pie plate, baked @ 375F and cooled.)
Then blend together an 8 oz package of Philadelphia Cream cheese with 1 cup of white sugar, and ½ cup of whipped topping. This makes a creamy white layer to go over your cracker crust. Spread a can of cherry pie filling over the top and refrigerate for a couple of hours. This bright red dessert with a dollop of whipped topping and a sprinkle cinnamon on top will work at home for your family, or any event where you need to take a dessert.
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.
Stella MacLean

Magical Monday Even When it Rains

It's raining today and the cold cut right through my new polar fleece poncho as I ran my errands . The sky is a familiar steel grey, the color that lets me know winter is fast approaching. My gaze clings to each brightly painted leaf, especially the orange and yellow ones. They'll be mush on the ground in a matter of days.

October is my favorite month of the year, due to the autumn and riot of colors. I love a crisp, cold day, and an excuse to heat up the kitchen with the oven in order to bake something delicious. November is a close second, as it's still fall and there's Thanksgiving and all the preparing that entails.

But also with November comes the reminder that all good things end. Fall is ending, the days end early, and I'm reminded that my time anywhere, be it a duty station or even here on earth, is finite. This makes it doubly important that I chose whom to spend my time with and how to spend my time, each and everyday.

This parlays into my writing. I chose to write fiction, and romance fiction, that gives me and my reader not just a HEA (Happily Ever After) but explores the how's and why's and why not's of a life-long love.

Because that's what I'm doing each day, in my own life. How about you?

Happy, Joyous Thanksgiving to all of you!

Fun Friday

Because of the rain beating into the ground and making a river out of our street, it's my turn to drive children to school this morning. As I wend my way back home through the traffic, I find myself wishing I could just take off and do something totally useless. Yeah...something that added nothing to my day, except an escape.
But I'm so well trained to "do" things, "look after" things, meet everyone's expectations of me, I stayed the course and came home.
So, I'm home, reading the Everlasting Blog, and thinking that maybe I should finish my blog and turn off my computer for today.
And then?
Then, I'd like to dig through all my old CD's and find some very venerable old friends and their music. That would include Frank Sinatra, the Beach Boys, and maybe a few tunes from the Rolling Stones. And of course, Eric Clapton.
While the music's playing, I'm going to dig out all those old photos I've kept boxed up through the years, and I'm going down memory lane with my family. And as soon as the stores open, I'm going to buy as many photo albums as I can carry and bring them home.
I love old pictures, remembering family reunions, and seeing just how peculiar my parents looked in their bulky, black-framed glasses. I treasure the old black and white shots of cousins peering shyly toward the camera, and the way so many of our family pets were captured in these shots.
Today, I'm going to be disciplined about having my down time, my fun time.
Today is for me.

KEEP THE EVERLASTING LINE ALIVE

I decided to write today about this wonderful new line called Everlasting Love that seems to be struggling. The more of the books that I read the more I want to stand on a mountain top and proclaim how great they are. The books are so well crafted and the stories have all been varied and real to me as a long time reader of all types of books. They're more than romance, they're family sagas and relationships bound under one cover. And because of the word count they're books a reader can finish in a couple of days. Finishing the book doesn't mean letting go of the characters. I find the one's I've read stick in my mind. They are books I will re-read. So I hope if we have readers or other writers still visiting this site that you will continue to support this line by buying the Everlastings and by telling friends about them. Christmas is coming and what better gift to give than a book which a recipient can open and enjoy time and again? If you've never tried the line, you are really missing some fantastic reads.

EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE...

This month sees the release of my eleventh novel for Harlequin Books. Eleven. Every one of them was a challenge to write. I sweated the ideas. I worried about the characters. I wondered about what happens next. Words, words, words! I needed words. But I needed them put together in just the right way for readers to care about the characters as much as I did and want to turn the page. Smoothly written prose that doesn’t touch the emotions might as well not be written.

Every once in a while, however, a story comes along that almost writes itself. THE SOLDIER AND THE ROSE was that story for me. Like a waterfall from which I was the source, came words and ideas so quickly, so instinctively, that once I started writing, I knew this story had been sitting inside my heart for a long time. A story of everlasting love. A story of family.

Stories of my own family’s beginnings in Brooklyn, NY dangled in front of me, and I immediately had the setting for this book. Not only could I picture the house and street, but I smelled the aromas coming from the kitchen – I still make those recipes – I remembered the hair styles and dresses that I’d seen in pictures of my mother and aunts. I recalled the sense of community as they talked about their young lives through the years of the Great Depression and WWII.

Most important of all was the family itself. That wonderful satisfaction and security of belonging to a family that loved me carried over from my early days in Brooklyn to the present time. Although they are gone now, the older generation is with me still - in my heart- at all times. Isn't this also what an everlasting love is about?

So, Charlie and Rose Shapiro, the soldier and his rose, were shaped by the hard times of the 1930’s and 40’s, but like all lovers throughout history, discover that love transcends anything life can throw at them.

Please join me tonight for a chat about THE SOLDIER AND THE ROSE and about Everlasting Love - the books or the reality. I hope to see you in the chat room at NovelTalk at 9:00 ET / 8:00 CT. You can use any name to sign in. Here’s the link:

http://www.noveltalk.com/chat/default.asp.

Two copies of the book will be given as prizes.

Best,
Linda

A Chat on Wednesday

Hi all,

I'm stopping by to invite everyone to a chat about The Soldier and the Rose and our Everlasting books this Wednesday evening, November 14th at 9:00 ET, 8:00 CT.

The conversation takes place at NovelTalk.com in the chat room. It's very easy to enter. I'll post a direct link on Wednesday when I actually blog here. Just wanted to give you a heads-up to put the time on your calendar.

See you Wednesday,
Linda

A Tribute to Our Veterans

It's Fun Friday, and I will talk about my fun weekend ahead, but first I have to take the time to wish each and every reader a wonderful, thoughtful, provocative Veteran's Day. Linda Barrett's THE SOLDIER AND THE ROSE and my A RENDEZVOUS TO REMEMBER were both released this month by Harlequin in order to celebrate Veteran's day and the sacrifices made by so many for all of us. Both Linda and I chose World War II themes, and I think you'll find there's so much interest in this time in history once again. Perhaps it's to remind ourselves that freedom has never come easily. Or to remind us that each generation has its sacrifices, whether it's a war, natural disaster, or other tragedy.

Yet through any tragedy hope will triumph. Sometimes it's there right away again, such as when we saw so many people go to New Orleans after Katrina to do what they could to help. Other times it takes longer, such as when we visit a Holocaust Memorial and hope that perhaps by educating our children this kind of atrocity will not happen again. Sometimes we have to dig for the hope, like after viewing the scenes in Darfur and only getting the tiniest bit of hope when we see the world at least become aware of the genocide. It's not always enough, but we are human, so we look for the hope. It's in our nature.

This weekend and next week I'm celebrating in style the release of my first book. I'm having a brunch in my home, and spending time with special people who have been with me on this journey. They are my sisters- and brothers-in-arms. At times life can seem like a war, and we all feel like a veteran. But I'm all to aware that I wouldn't be enjoying this wonderful time in my life if not for the veterans who gave the ultimate sacrifice to ensure the continuation of freedom and democracy. How blessed, how fortunate am I.

As are all of us.

Do you have a special veteran you'd like to thank this Veteran's Day?

Changing Seasons

It’s finally beginning to feel like winter is coming to New England, as the temperature dropped below freezing for the first time last night. I was the first one home this evening in my hard-working household, so it was my job to get the fire going in our woodstove and warm up the family room and kitchen where we seem to live most of our lives. Fortunately, Pop Moody, the seventy-year-old woodsman who delivers our cord every fall, stopped by on Saturday with his truckload.

I love this time of year. This morning on my drive to work along Lake Quinsigamond, the light hit the trees at exactly the right angle and every leaf seemed to be on fire. The variations in nature’s palette always astound me, especially so in this season. I am a painter as well as a writer, and I’ve often been inspired by and have tried to capture the vibrancy and play of light and color in the surrounding hills.

When I’m painting with words I’m trying to capture a different kind of vibrancy—the energy between two people, and the light and shadows through which they move in their relationship. My stories track the seasons in a marriage—the tender hope and renewal of early spring; the languor and sometimes intense heat of summer; the bittersweet pleasure of fall that urges us to seize the day before the leaves are stripped bare; and the uncompromising honesty of winter, when we can only to turn to each other for warmth and comfort.

There is something both exhilarating and reassuring in the cycles of our lives.

A Sporting Romance?

I'm in pretty good shape. I'm healthy. I'm competitive. And I don't stand a chance against my husband in any sport known to animal or man. A number of years ago, I wanted to put aside time for "play" to balance all the time we spend at our jobs or doing housework or yardwork. It was time to break up the everyday routines of work, work, work.

I suggested tennis. There were courts near our house open to the public. "Free" sounded good. We wouldn't keep score, just have some rallies, develop our skills and have fun. Forgeddaboutit!
He couldn't hit softly, and I could barely return a ball. He t-r-i-e-d to hit hit softly but it was impossible for him to keep to that level. I guess I should add that he outweighs me by about 70 pounds and love sports - playing, not watching. He was so delighted about the idea of playing tennis together, he had an extra spring in his step - which he used at the court to dance circles around me. After ten mintues, I was beet red with legs that felt like rubber. He was scratching his head. So much for being in shape.

I suggested ballroom dancing. No big muscles required. We'd take some lessons and be equal partners totally in sync with each other. Watching the look of horror grow on his face, I kissed my version of Dancing with the Stars goodbye. Dancing with the Barretts simply was not going to happen.

Next, we bought roller blades - with knee pads and wrist pads - for skating on the 4 mile path in the nearby county park. He got twice the mileage for his money. As a good husband, he felt the need to check up on me - often - after he left me in the dust.

Finally, I hit on the magic answer. Join a gym. Despite the previous failures, I still wanted us to engage in a physical activity that kept the joints moving and the heart beating...okay, an activity in addition to the one that's crossed your mind just now :) At a gym, we could work at our own pace, using our individual weights and machines. So we joined a gym and now, years later, we're still pushing, pulling and hoisting metal with some aerobic excercise thrown in.

We're both happy, but I can't figure out what all this proves. Is it that couples who sweat together stay together? Or does credit go to the regular ten-minute car rides back-and-forth where there are no outside interruptions? When we leave the hosue for the gym, we also leave the telelvision behind...as well as the phone and the computer and the dishes in the sink. And for ten minutes, we are in the moment with each other. I like that. I like it very much. But...if he also suggested a dance lesson, I wouldn't say no.

Dancing is something that Charlie Shapiro, in my current book, THE SOLDIER AND THE ROSE, does with his wife regularly. He can also carry a tune. I guess if I can't get it in real life, I gift these talents on the heroes I create. November is the month to remember our soldier-heroes, the month celebrating Veterans Day. Both Geri Krotow's book, A RENDEZVOUS TO REMEMBER, and my book do just that. I hope you'll give them a try as once again we pray for peace in our world.

Shalom,
Linda

Thoughts for a Thursday.

I was interviewed yesterday for the upcoming release of my Everlasting Love book, Heart of My Heart. The lady doing the interview asked a lot of questions, and then made the comment that she found romance writers to be women of such passion when it came to their stories. She found it inspiring to hear women talk about their stories with such enthusiasm.
Her words took me back to an incident at my local office supply store where I was getting my manuscript photocopied. When the young woman passed me the copy of my manuscript, she said she couldn't help reading a few passages as she made the copy. She said that she could identify with my heroine because like my heroine, she'd been pregnant as a teenager, and her family had disapproved. She wanted to know if my character made out okay in the end.
In retrospect, I should have mentioned this to my interviewer. I should have told her that passion for writing romance comes from knowing that your story directly impacts the lives of others.
What more could a writer ask for?
Stella

It's finally getting cooler . . .

So, it's finally Fall down here in Texas-- the temperatures have dropped into the seventies, the air is crisp and clear and my favorite time of year is just around the corner. In honor of it finally getting cooler, I'm posting one of my all-time favorite recipes for a mediterranean stew.

Vegetable Stew

3-4 tbsp. margarine or butter
1 large onion, grated
1 1/2 lbs. stewing beef
3 cans tomato sauce
salt and pepper to taste
2 lb bag of frozen green beans or peas


Start by melting the margarine in a Dutch Oven and grating the onion into the warm pot. Let the onion cook for a couple minutes and then add the meat. Brown the meat on all sides, then turn the temperature down, put on a lid and let the meat and onion stew for about an hour. Add the three cans of tomato sauce and six cans of water (2 per each can of tomato sauce). Salt and pepper to taste. Bring to a boil and then cover, reducing the heat. Let stew for 2-3 hours. Then bring the mixture back to a boil and add-- gradually, to keep the temperature high-- the frozen green beans or peas. Let cook for at least another hour. Serve in a big bowl over rice.

This recipe is great if made in the morning and allowed to sit all day. It's also wonderful the next day-- of course, we rarely have leftovers in my house-- my boys love this stew.

Enjoy:) and Happy Halloween everyone!

It's the weekend again.

Friday afternoon is the best part of the work week for me. I love doing a little tidying around my desk and a little fixing up around my office. All in honor of disappearing from my workspace until Monday.
But, alas, it doesn't always work that way. Each Friday I promise myself I won't go into my office NO MATTER WHAT. No sirree. I'm going to go have a little fun.
And yet each weekend I can't resist checking in with whatever project I was working on when Friday afternoon rolled around.
And so it is this Friday. I have a proposal that has been taking my attention all day. I have a workshop idea that needs my time, and of course there's email....
But, I deserve this weekend with its spread of fall leaves...the wind blowing in the trees.
And the most beautiful harvest moon I could ever have imagined.
Stella MacLean

Loss

Several weeks ago, my eighty-seven year old uncle died. He'd suffered from Alzheimer's for the past few years and was already in precarious health, so when he succumbed to the sudden onset of pneumonia, his death was not unexpected, and even seemed merciful. In his final year, he had slipped gradually away from his family, drifting further into a world that even my aunt, his beloved wife of sixty-three years, couldn't truly share.

He was one of the most honest, decent men I've ever known.

They met on a cross-country train trip, during WWII—when he was still a handsome young naval officer on his way to ship out and she a student nurse. "It was really a pickup!" she told her older sister—my mother. "But I told Mom my best friend introduced us." Theirs was an innocent affair by today's standards. (From lack of opportunity, not desire, my aunt always insisted.) Three days and only two tentative kisses later, she left the train at Los Angeles in tears, while my uncle continued on to San Diego to board his ship—bound for Pearl Harbor. They exchanged letters for close to a year and married the very day he arrived stateside again—not an unusual thing in wartime, but a bit scandalous in a straight-laced family like ours. They went on to have two handsome, successful sons, a number of adoring grandchildren, and a life rich in family memories, rewarding careers, world travel, and above all—lasting love and respect for one another. Sixty-two years later, they still behaved like young lovers, still held hands while they watched TV, and still adhered to their lifelong rule of sharing a tender goodnight kiss, no matter how difficult their day had been.

Shortly before my uncle's death, I gave them a rerecorded collection of songs popular during WWII, and as I watched them dance together to "The White Cliffs of Dover"— their favorite wartime melody— I was moved to tears. The tall young naval officer was now a sadly gaunt, stumbling shadow of the man he'd once been, with no remaining memories of evading German U-boats in the North Atlantic nor of the horrendous landing on that bloody beach in Normandy. The pretty young nurse's hair had gone snow-white, and both of them suffered from arthritis and poor eyesight, but the love and devotion in their eyes was unmistakable—"Everlasting." Ten days later, when he passed away, he went gently into that good night with my aunt at his bedside, still holding the hand of the man she'd adored her entire life.

Perhaps because they're about long-term marriages or relationships, many of our books deal at some point with loss. The very first book in the Everlasting series, Linda Cardillo's moving "Dancing on Sunday Afternoons," tells the story of an Italian woman who still mourns the loss of the firebrand husband lost in the tumultuous union struggles of the early twentieth century. At the end of her life, though, she finally discovers that the true love of her life has been right there with her all along—in the loving and steadfast person of her second, though less glamorous husband.

Since that first book, the "Everlastings" have tried to explore, in differing aspects, what it is that allows love to last—to survive marital turmoil, loss, and even heartbreak. Our books say that love—real love—can survive anything. That true love can endure almost anything--family estrangement, separation, distrust and suspicion, death, divorce, dark secrets and long-held resentments. Extra-marital affairs and even the simple boredom and the apathy inherent in long term marriage can be overcome, and once survived, can even make a good but troubled marriage stronger. In my own book, this month's "The Secret Dreams of Emily Porter," the heroine leaves an abusive and demeaning marriage only to face a new loss so deep she fears she can't survive it. When she tries to handle her grief by retreating into a world of dreams and memories, it takes a tremendous strength of will, a seemingly miraculous pregnancy, and the love and tender support of a stranger to make her understand that life must go on, and that it can be worth living.

This month's other "Everlasting" is Holly Jacobs' touching "The House on Briar Hill Road." It tells of a different kind of love and loss-- the loss to cancer of a beloved mother-in-law, who has become more like a mother to the book's lonely young heroine. That is the essential message of these books—that life can and must go on, through good times and bad, through joy and heartbreak, through love's exhilaration and tragedy's worst blows. To paraphrase the words of a song popular in the sixties, "If the song is to go on, we must do the singing."

And in somewhat the same way, the "Everlasting Love" series will go on-- in a different format, perhaps, and under a different banner, but we'll still be here, still believing that lasting love is worth looking for, and still worth writing about. For every great love has a story to tell.

Comfort Food and Family

When my husband and I were first married, we ate the usual newlyweds-type food: a lot of soup and sandwiches, spaghetti, more soups, toast. . . whatever didn't take a lot of time or money to create. We were both good cooks but we were young and on a very tight budget.

Later, we grew into fancier foods. My husband came from California so we ate burritos and enchiladas before they were common fare for people. We bought a wok and stir fried all kinds of dishes. We tried dishes from other countries after joining a supper group and the simpler meals vanished from our kitchen.

About this time, we added two children to our lives. We'd been married a while by then and money wasn't quite as tight. Every now and then, we'd have mac and cheese for the boys but most of our meals required a cookbook and fresh ingredients. Shopping meant we'd try out a new fruit from the produce section -- we knew the produce manager by name.

When our youngest son was in preschool, he came home one day all excited. "Guess what, Mom? I got to help in the kitchen for lunch today. We took some hamburger, smashed it together with an egg, added some oatmeal, and made it into a ball we cooked in the oven. Then we put catsup on it and gave everybody a piece."

I stared at him in shock. My mom would serve a simple salad, a baked potato, and the slabs of her meat loaf at least a couple times a month. It was a great way to stretch the meat for a family with four growing children. Here was my son, who had tasted all kinds of exotic fruits, describing in detail how to make what had been a constant in both his dad and his mom's family growing up.

Later that week, I made a meat loaf with him. I told him how I used to help Grandma make meat loaf for his uncles and aunt. There was a comfort in watching the meat loaf bake in the oven, with paprika potatoes spread around the pan. We made a simple tossed salad and warmed up some green beans. And now, every once in a while, I make a meat loaf for supper as a reminder of the family that I come from and the family that I now have.

-------
An Oven Meal with Meat Loaf and Paprika Potatoes

This is a variation of the recipe my mom used. I found the recipe in a cookbook we received as a wedding gift and our family loves it. I did adapt a few things, using some of my mom's 'tricks.' The amount for the glaze ingredients, for instance, was always done without true measuring. She would just pour and scoop until she had the right consistency. You'll have to see what works for you.


1 3-ounce can chopped mushrooms
Milk
1 slightly beaten egg
1 1/2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups soft bread crumbs or crushed crackers
2 tbsp catsup
2 tbsp brown sugar
orange juice
Dash of pepper
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
1 1/2 pounds lean ground beef
3 medium baking potatoes
2 tbsp butter, melted
Paprika

Drain the chopped mushrooms, saving the liquid. Add enough milk to the mushroom liquid to make 1/2 cup. Combine liquid, egg, Worcestershire sauce, seasonings, and bread crumbs (crackers). Let stand about 5 minutes. Stir in beef and chopped mushrooms. Mix lightly but thoroughly.
Shape into loaf in 13x9x2 inch baking dish. Halve the potatoes lengthwise. Make diagonal slashes in cut surfaces of the potatoes. Layer around the meat loaf. Brush the potatoes with the melted butter. Season with salt and pepper.

Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour. Sprinkle potatoes with paprika. Combine brown sugar, catsup, and orange juice to make a glaze. Spread over meat loaf. Bake 15 more minutes. Serve with salad, green beans, and ice cream for dessert.

Tessa McDermid

Love Is In The Air and Everywhere

Friday blogs are set aside by the Everlasting Love authors to talk about love and romance.
We write a lot about it, but is love being overshadowed by too many hardships and worries that abound in today's world?
I look around and I see people rushing everywhere. As you sit at stoplights people are on cell phones, frowns on their faces. Or they're tapping their fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. I look at them and wonder---did they kiss a spouse or their child goodbye before they started out for whatever was making them frown so.
I've heard in general that while paperback romance sales are still the highest of any genre in the bookstores, that overall sales have dropped. And the genre is being broken into many sub genres. As I look over the shelves of books I wonder if people are looking for other elements in books because they're unsure love still exists.
That's why I think the stories in Everlasting Love are so great. They show enduring love. They show that in spite of ups and downs, stresses and hardship, that people come out better if they have a partner to lean on and to love. I hope we aren't getting too preoccupied and too frenzied and overwhelmed by life and all that swirls around us in uncertain times to stop believing in love. I'd be interested to know what fellow writers and of most of all readers who still reach for a warm, satisfying love story think--
Roz

Resistance

I just finished reading "The War of Art" by Steven Pressfield. It's a wonderful book for anyone in the creative arts, but truly, for any of us. Pressfield's premise is that "Resistance" follows us whenever we're about to embark upon a journey or reach an accomplishment that will improve our souls, touch other's hearts, make a difference in the world.

Resistance can be in the form of procrastination (my favorite), obsession with anything but what you need to get done (is this why I must find that perfect tea to drink desk-side while I'm writing?), and pure avoidance--taking a nap.

I'm simplifying what is an amazing book by Pressfield, and an age-old idea. For some reason, as human beings, we find it easier to fight our innermost desires than to show up at bat and swing for it!

This applies to the Everlasting Love of our lives, doesn't it? If we've been in a long-term relationship, blessed with years of loving, we see this. One or the other partner can loose interest, the relationship can be broken--there's always a threat. But with sustenance in the form of time, an open mind, and a healthy dose of humor, we can keep Resistance at bay in our lives and keep our relationships and families healthy and happy.

What if you don't have a family? What if your family is say, your pet? Resistance shows up in the dog who prefers the living room rug to the backyard for toilet duty, doesn't it? With patience and love, most all dogs can be house trained.

In case you haven't figured it out, I'm fighting Resistance as I type this. I have a proposal due tomorrow, and I'm fighting the sudden desire to knit, eat chocolate, see what's on TV, make a crockpot meal, clean out the garage or basement. These are all things (save for the knitting and chocolate) that will disappear from my conscious thoughts the moment the proposal is in the mail.

I keep my Resistance at bay the best when I simply accept it for what it is and move forward. I want a career as a novelist. I desire to bring fulfilling love stories to the page. Stories that will change a reader's heart and offer hope. This trumps any procrastination skill I've developed, no matter how fun at the time.

What's your Resistance to? How does it manifest? More importantly, how do you defeat it?

Face-to-Face with My Readers

I’ve just gotten home from a two-hour meeting with a book club that had read my February 2007 EL, DANCING ON SUNDAY AFTERNOONS. It was one of the most stimulating discussions I’ve had with readers, ranging from musings about whether my heroine, Giulia, felt fulfilled at the end of her life or had regrets; the role (and power) of women in traditional immigrant families; the balance and tension in close-knit families between nurturing support and stifling judgment; and the research I had done to place the story in the context of what was happening in the world my characters inhabited.

It occurred to me that someone reading the above paragraph describing our conversation might be surprised to learn that this group of highly educated, sophisticated readers (their choice for next month is Nobel Laureate Doris Lessing’s THE GOLDEN NOTEBOOK) were talking about a Harlequin romance. It is no surprise to those of us who write Everlasting Love stories. We are weaving complex, deeply satisfying tales of women and men facing and overcoming the challenges of sustaining love.

I’m currently reading Robert McKee’s STORY, a book on the craft of writing. He writes that readers turn to stories to answer the question posed by Aristotle: How should a human being live his life? The women in tonight’s book group agreed. And what they found in and took from DANCING intrigued me. DANCING, like all of the Everlasting Love stories I’ve read so far, is a very particular story, deeply rooted in a culture and a time and a place: the journey (both literal and figurative) of a young Italian immigrant woman in turn-of-the-century New York. Many of the women in tonight’s group were Iranian, and the book’s themes resonated with them, despite the differences between their lives and Giulia’s. As a friend once said to me after reading DANCING, “Linda, you don’t have to be Italian to understand DANCING. You just have to have grown up in a family.”

We Everlasting Love writers hope that readers continue to recognize themselves in our books, and take heart and hope from our characters’ triumphs.

Tasty Tuesdays bring out the baker in me.

I love food and cooking, but not cleaning up afterward. Being the second oldest of four children in a house where all the children had chores, mine was to bake. My baking career at our house started one fall day when I stayed home from school, claiming I was ill. I wasn't ill, I was bored, but I couldn't give that as a reason because my mom was a school teacher who believed that you had to be SERIOUSLY ill to ever want to stay home from school.
To compensenate for my less than desirable behavior, I made a pan of chocolate brownies that when cooked resembled a huge slab of burned flour! Not great, but a beginning.
The recipe I'm offering today is one that makes a pan of squares with ingredients we all have in our kitchen, and with Halloween approaching, I imagine you all have some kind of chocolate bar that is made of chocolate and caramel.
As a matter of interest, I don't know if any of you do this, but I'm on my second box of "Halloween" treats--treats I bought way too soon and have been slowly devouring.
I'll be back buying more for the big night if I don't get my husband to hide them where I can't find them. He doesn't know this, but there's no place in this house where I couldn't find a Halloween treat, but I don't want to ruin his hunt for the perfect hiding place.
No wonder Weight Watchers loves me!
Now, back to the recipe.

Ingredients;
4 Mars Bars or chocolate bars with caramel.
1/4 cup of margarine
3cups of Rice Krispies
1cup of chocolate chips.
1/4 cup of margarine

Here's the easy part.
Melt the bars and the margarine together. Stir in the Rice Krispies and place in a 8 inch by 8 inch
pan.
Melt I cup of chocolate chips with 1/4 cup of margarine and pour it over the Rice Krispy mixture.
That's all there is to it. I've never had these last past breakfast the day after I make them. But then again, every one in my house is a chocolate lover.
I've actually caught members of my family having one of these squares for breakfast, claiming that it was a breakfast cereal!

Magical Mondays

There's nothing like going to a wedding to recapture the wonder and magic of love at the dawn of a relationship. The joy and excitement of the happy couple as they exchange vows before family and friends in anticipation of all the years to come. Their certainty that their love can withstand anything.

What I find especially encouraging, though, are the number of couples I've met recently who fifty-and even sixty-plus years later are still just as in love--if not more so--than they were when they made their vows. They still hold hands, they still exchange loving looks, they're sensitive to each other's needs. They've come through all the difficulties and proved their early certainty right.

It wasn't easy. They would undoubtedly be the first to say that. But they'd also be the first to say it was well worth all the effort.

Everlasting Love. It happens.

Ginger

Here comes the weekend.

I love Fridays, mostly because I can slow down the pace, and think about doing something different for a couple of days. So, what's on for this weekend? There's always shopping and groceries, and of course doing just enough housework to be able to get through the week.
This weekend is also great for working outside. Where I live the leaves are changing colors and beginning to slip earthward on even the slightest breeze. But there still isn't enough to warrant getting out the big rake and going at it. Just enough leaves to create abstract patterns on the lawn.
What's truly special about this weekend is that my husband and I are going to plan our very first trip to England. We've wanted to go for years, and we finally have the money set aside. I've never planned such a trip, and I'm really looking forward to it. If anyone has suggestions of places in England they've visited, or things they've done in England, I'd love to hear about them. Who knows, maybe there's story in this trip. Everlasting Love and England go together, don't they? With that in mind, I'm going to buy a journal.

Love and the Modern Grandma

I'm thinking about my grandchildren today as I do every day. All three live over a thousand miles away from me in two different states. And I worry that they won’t know me. That they won’t know their grandpa either. My husband and I sometimes feel like jet-setters flying to each son’s house twice a year. If we’re lucky, we might even meet up for a third time somehow. But, in fact, my four-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter has seen us no more than ten times - and that counts when she was born! It’s not enough. It’s not how I imagined my life as a grandma.

I’d dreamed of Sunday afternoon dinners at my house. I dreamed of cuddling on the couch and reading stories together or going to the park together. I dreamed of spur-of-the-moment times when we could whip up some chocolate pudding in my kitchen. I dreamed of riding bikes with them and watching their soccer games on a Tuesday evening. I want to cuddle the new baby all the time.

I know I’m not the only grandma who loves from afar. Or who orders pictures over the Internet as soon as my daughters-in-law post new ones to my InBox. Or who's covered her refrigerator from corner to corner with photos of the kids.

In today’s world, families go where the jobs are. My husband and I did that, ourselves, and wound up in Texas a dozen years ago. I understand about earning a living. I understand about supporting a family. But it doesn’t mean I have to like the fallout. In fact, it’s breaking my heart.

So, I’m retiring from my day job and buying a laptop computer to write my stories when Grandpa and I visit the kids next year. We’ll stay for a week instead of a weekend. I know the visits will provide more time and opportunity for shared activities which, in turn, build memories. And the best part? My wonderful daughters-in-law are waiting with open arms. I think they can’t wait for me to cook!

Hugs to grandmas and grandpas everywhere whether your little ones are next door or across the country.

Linda, who's jet-setting with Grandpa again this weekend...and next!

Let's Make Lemonade

Many years ago a Greek philosopher was sitting around in his toga pondering the universe when he came up with the concept that the only constant is change. What a smart guy! And he wasn't even involved in the publishing industry. LOL Last week the Lovely Ladies of this blog were informed that January 2008 would be the last month for Everlasting Love as a stand-alone series. Instead, most of the books already under contract would be folded in the Superromance series.

Once I got recovered from my "are you kidding me" reaction, I decided I needed to come up with a game plan. Not only am I a certified planner, I'm also one of those annoying "the glass is half-full" kind of girls. All weekend I pondered this situation. We love our books, we promote them, we even blog about them. They're almost like our children - not really, they don't ask to borrow the car. But back to the constant of change. It's like death and taxes - it simply is. So for me personally, I plan to make lemonade out of this bowl of lemons.

And just in case you need a good recipe, here it is.

Fresh Lemonade

1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup boiling water
1 1/2 cups fresh lemon juice (6 to 8 large lemons)
5 cups cold water

Combine sugar and boiling water; stirring until sugar dissolves. Add lemon juice and cold water; stir well Cover and chill. Serve over ice.

Ann DeFee

Summer After Summer - Harlequin Everlasting Love - September 2007
The Perfect Tree - Harlequin American Romance - November 2007
Goin' Down to Georgia - Harlequin American Romance - March 2008

Fall Is In The Air

The air is crisp, the mornings are getting into the slightly foggy days of fall. It's the time of year I love best. It kicks off the holiday season. Our books are about families, and family is all about tradition. Let's take Halloween. It's coming up soon. I've already decorated my house with smiling jackolanterns, a few ghosts and scarecrows. I'm not sure when this holiday turned dark and menacing. Today I walked the neighborhood and others are beginning to put up their decorations. When did this get to be about spider webs and big, yucky, spiders? I saw terrible skulls and things that looked scary to me in daylight as an adult. What of little kids who come knocking at those doors on Halloween night? Will they laugh or be scared out of their minds for seasons to come. When I took my kids trick-or-treating, neighbors dressed up in happy witch costumes, or clowns, or other funny things and made it an enjoyable time for the kidlets bringing their sacks to the door.
I guess I'm rambling, but I love holiday traditions that leave people happy and smiling. I'm not sure the new trend in Halloween is the best turn of events. It's time for others to weigh in on the subject. My motto for the month is: Happy Halloween!
Roz

Surviving

Survival



For me, the best thing about writing women's fiction has been having the opportunity to explore what it actually means to be a woman in today's world. We all know that the better romance novels today bear very little resemblance to the romances our mothers read. Over the years, they've evolved from tales of charmingly helpless creatures in constant need of rescue from their handsome heroes to insightful treatments of virtually every aspect of the modern female experience.

And that's what the Everlasting Romances were all about. I say "were," because as some of you may already know, Harlequin's "Everlasting" series is about to be absorbed by the "Superromance" series. I think I'm speaking for most of EL "lovelies" when I say that we’re all hoping the important underlying message of the Everlasting stories won’t be lost in the transition. And from my point of view, at least, that message has been about the astonishing strength and endurance of what I'll call—for lack of a more original term—the "average" woman. There's no such thing, of course, as an average woman. Every woman is unique, but we do share certain characteristics worth discussing, and strength and durability are two of the most obvious.

Years ago, shortly after the birth of my daughter, I read a very short newspaper article about a mother and father who had taken their four children on a beach camping trip. While the parents were some distance away, unpacking the car, a freak wave swept away all of their children. I never found out what happened to these stricken parents—how, or even if they were able to survive such a horrifying loss.

Since then, I've known another couple who witnessed, and endured, the slaughter of all five of their young children at the hands of the Nazis. A wonderfully loving, generous couple who somehow managed to survive the horror and turn unspeakable anguish into good by helping others. Such astonishing courage, while admirable, is almost impossible for most of us to comprehend.

How do they do it? We've all heard about marriages that fall apart under stress. What is it about some relationships that enable them to survive, while others fail? People fall in love every day. They get married, have children, buy homes, mow lawns, and go to PTA meetings. And more than half of these marriages eventually collapse.

Several Lovelies have already addressed, in this blog, what makes a relationship last. Maybe it doesn't matter. To paraphrase the plaintive inquiry of one female character in Tennessee Williams' "Night of the Iguana," why is it that the test of everything has to be its durability? Most of us can appreciate and maybe even experienced the kind of romantic episode that lights up the sky like a shooting star. Sparks fly, fireworks light up the night sky, and then it's over. The effervescent bubbles in the champagne go flat, but we're left with a lovely memory. If we're absolutely honest with ourselves, those short-term "flights to the moon on gossamer wings" are probably a lot more fun that the long-term kind. No strings, no long-term commitments, no mortgages, no kids—just momentary pleasure. Let's face it. Waking up with the same person every day for forty or fifty years can get pretty old—through good times and bad, in sickness and health and all that fal-da-ral. Ugh! To quote the always wise Dorothy Parker:

"Drink and dance and laugh and lie,
Love, the reeling midnight through.
For tomorrow we shall die!
(But, alas, we never do.)"

Many thoughtful people have pointed out, in one way or another, that whatever can't be avoided must be endured—and survived. It sounds so simple and logical, right? But the fact is that many couples don't survive what happens to them. And while I don’t want to minimize the man's part in surviving crisis, my experience indicates that the "lionesss' share" of the credit usually goes to the woman. One of the best and most reliable things about women is that ability to survive—an inherent ability probably instilled in our makeup by countless generations of child rearing. No mother can afford to die or give up when she has young to feed and protect. But I think the will to survive and endure goes beyond that. Someone (and once again, I don’t know who it was) once said that women are the "glue" that holds society together.

Everyone who wants to understand what makes women "tick" should rent "La Ciociara" ("Two Women",) that stunning Sophia Loren film of the early sixties about a courageous Italian woman who survives the devastation of WWII by sheer strength of will. Cicera (the mother) and her thirteen-year-old daughter escape their bomb-ravaged village destitute, only to be brutally raped on the road by a contingent of allied soldiers. The horrific experience embitters the girl and nearly destroys the grief-stricken mother when she is unable to protect her only child from the attack and its emotional consequences.

Well, it seems I've babbled on for a very long time, and probably overmade my point, but the message is still worth repeating. Women are the glue that holds everything together, and stories about women who do just that are what the Everlasting Love series will always be about—whatever our books are called. Please read them, and share the joy of love that lasts through time.

Judith Raxten- "The Secret Dreams of Emily Porter."

Feeding the Family

I'm deep in the midst of a new book about three generations of Italian-American women for whom food means more than physical nourishment. As I moved from my writing table to the kitchen table this week, I was struck by how much food connects my own family.

My daughter, who’s been living in Scotland for the last four years, recently returned home to do a post-baccalaureate program at a nearby college. Like my other two children, she’s a vegetarian and an athlete. On Sunday, she’ll be running the Portland Marathon, so we are eating a lot of carbs this week at our house. We both love to cook, but our schedules are particularly hectic right now and we sat on Monday evening to plan out a week of simple meals that will provide her with the fuel she’ll need to run her race. One of the easiest, and a staple at my mother’s table when I was growing up, is baked ziti. It can be thrown together in about twenty minutes, and while it bakes in the oven, you can make a salad (or sip a glass of wine).

When I went looking for this recipe, I remembered that I had put together a collection of "classics" for my daughter when she first left home and was cooking on her own. Many of the recipes, like this one, were passed on to me by my own mother.

Baked Ziti

1 pound ziti
½ pound ricotta
1 egg
1 quart tomato sauce (my mother, of course, made her own; but after an hour on the Mass Pike driving home from work, I reach for the glass jar in the pantry)
4 ounces shredded mozzarella

1. Boil the ziti until al dente. Drain.

2. Blend ricotta with egg.

3. Toss the ziti with tomato sauce in a baking dish.

4. Blend in ricotta-egg mixture.

5. Add more tomato sauce if it looks dry.

6. Bake for 30 minutes at 350 degrees.

7. Sprinkle top with mozzarella and bake for 5 more minutes until mozzarella is melted.

So nice to be here.

I am truly blog handicapped! But it's so nice to be here. I just finished Love Always, and I found myself crying at several points in the story! It's a wonderful story, written from the heart and to some degree based on my family experience. I enjoyed writing it, but there always seems to be this feeling when I finish a book that I'm standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon, looking across the steep walls that drop to the Colorado River. What a beautiful site and also such a magnificent view.
And so it feels with a book that's ready to go. I'm on the edge of a writing canyon and there's no going back...
Stella MacLean

Thoughtful Thursdays

Is anyone watching Ken Burn’s wonderful PBS documentary series, The War? If you aren’t, you should be. As usual, he makes history and the people who lived it come to vibrant life right in your living room. I’m learning things I never knew before--seeing how the ordinary people, both soldiers and the people at home, coped with the unexpected events that changed most of their lives forever.

Several of my uncles were in the Pacific on ships and my husband had uncles on the ground in Europe. Luckily, they all came home. Others didn’t. Many, many others didn’t. I do remember my mother talking about how sugar was rationed and what it was like to try to keep every bit of light from escaping at night during the blackouts.

What really hits home with me, though, is how through most of the years of fighting we were never sure that we were going to win. There was real fear that we might not. If those fears had come true, what kind of world would we be living in right now?

Makes me really appreciate my uncles, my husband’s uncles, and the men like them for all that they did. As well as those determined women who also went to war—both in far-away lands and on the home front.

How, exactly, this ties in with our stories of Everlasting Love, I’m not sure. Except that bravery and sacrifice through good times and bad, the ability to make the best of what you have at the moment, the fierce determination to survive and to overcome, the sensitivity to know when to look the other way, the blessings of forgiveness along with the power to forget … isn’t that a great part of what love does?

Ginger

The Writing Zone

One of the perks of being a full-time writer (which doesn’t describe me yet) is that commuting to the job is a simple matter of walking from bedroom to home office – an idea every working writer dreams about. Think of it – no more pantyhose, no more high heels, no more getting up in the dark of night to beat the morning traffic. And yet, the commute to my day job on Houston’s heavy freeways provides me with a special perk - the “dream time” I need to create my books.

What better way to spend time while stuck in traffic than to work out a scene, figure out a plot problem, or think about my character’s backstory a little more so I can really get under her skin? Worried about my driving? I’m not going fast enough to cause an accident - at least, I haven’t had one yet. I have, however, driven right past my exit on a number of occasions. I guess I was involved in a very good story :)

I enter the zone at other times, too. One of the best for me is around 5:00 a.m. during that half-awake/ half-asleep period before getting up to face the day. Somehow, thorny problems with my story get resolved as I lay there dreaming. Psychologists suggest that if you concentrate on a problem right before going to bed, your unconscious works on it while you sleep. Upon awakening, your problem is solved, and you feel like a genius!

Zoning out with writing is nice, but if I depended only upon these moments to create a story, I’d still be unpublished. While the story stays in my head constantly, most of the hard work takes place at the computer in my office. That’s right - the office. The room in the house that will soon be the daily destination of my commute. I’ll miss the freeway dreaming, but not the high heels and pantyhose.

Wishing each of you the career of your dreams,
Linda Barrett

Tasty Tuesday

Woe is me! The creeping crud - aka, a nasty virus that made me feel like (oops, better not go there) - hit early around our house. So last weekend I indulged in a sport's marathon. I watched college football, pro football, the Davis cup (for you dedicated couch potatoes that's tennis) and when all the games went to a commercial, I even caught a few rounds of golf.

No doubt about it - football players are really fit! And the tight - yikes, regressing again - pants are quite impressive, too. In case you think I'm a voyeur, there was a method in my madness. I'm in the middle of doing a book with a pro football hero, so I'll chalk up last weekend to research. Wide receivers, tight ends, nickle backs, passing routs, picks - I've got the jargon.

This is our Tasty Tuesday blog, so my conundrum is whether to share a comfort food recipe or go with something more appropriate for football tailgating. Think, think, think a moment - yep, football it is.

Chorizo Con Queso Dip
(Sausage with Cheese Dip)

1/2 pound Mexican chorizo or regular bulk pork sausage
8 oz. fresh mushrooms sliced
1/2 cup chopped onion
2 Tbs butter
1 pound monterrey jack cheese or 1 lb pasteurized cheese (Velveeta)
1 4-ounce can chopped green chilies
(Substitute a 10-oz can of tomatoes with chilies, chopped, instead of the mushrooms and green chilies)

Cook sausage until brown. Drain and set aside. Add mushrooms, onion and butter to skillet and saute until soft but not brown. Add cheese, green chiles and reserved sausage to skillet. Heat until cheese has melted and mixture is hot. Serve with tortilla chips or crackers.

Enjoy!

Ann DeFee
Georgia On His Mind - Harlequin American Romance - August 2007
Summer After Summer - Harlequin Everlasting Love - September 2007
The Perfect Tree - Harlequin American Romance Christmast Anthology - November 2007
Goin' Down to Georgia - Harlequin American Romance - March 2008

Happily Ever After

It's Monday, so I'm supposed to talk about my love affair with my husband-- how we met and all that good stuff. So here goes.

I met him at a dinner party when I was in my first year of grad school. I had been dating another man pretty seriously at that point but the second I met the man who has now been my husband for eleven years, I was well and truly hooked. Thank God he felt the same way.

He asked me to marry him on our second date (four days after we met). I laughed at him and told him there was no way that was possible (after all I had fallen asleep on him at the midnight movie on our first date-- although, I guess it had to be love if he was willing to forgive that--LOL!) Anyway, though I turned him down originally, he asked me to marry him again one week later and this time-- even though my best friend and I had agreed it was nuts that he'd asked the first time and decided I would cool things off-- I said yes because I couldn't imagine a time when I wouldn't love him.

We were married two months later (I was just twenty and my parents were completely freaked out). I got pregnant on the honeymoon, had a baby nine months after we got married, and though we've had our share of ups and downs I've never looked back. Three kids and eleven years later, I love him more now than I ever did then and am so grateful that he stuck around despite our inauspicious beginnings. We've created a pretty good life for ourselves and our family and I've never once regretted saying yes when the whole world thought I should say no.

Fun Friday--Give Myself the Oxygen First!

Hello Everlasting Love readers! It's the day we all hold our breath for--Friday.

I try to keep things in perspective when I have a rough week. I'm not serving on the front lines of Iraq or Afghanistan, my family is healthy, I'm realizing a life-long dream by publishing the stories I love to tell.

It's still relative though, isn't it? With a pre-teen and teenager in the house, life is never dull, slow, nor boring. We have periods of peace, even serenity. When we're all asleep. No, not just then, but sometimes it feels that way.

I love my family. The root of it all is the marriage I've been blessed with for several decades. But it's not without work, nor without preening. Lately I've been tending to everyone else's part of the garden--making sure my dh has peace and quiet to study (he's taking very intensive courses for his career), ensuring that the kids are where they need to be, and picked up when they need to be (this is probably the most important part!).

Today is going to be a little weeding for me. Maybe a pedicure. Definitely some knitting. Leisurely shopping for a dinner party we're hosting tomorrow night. I love to bake, so I'm focused on a white chocolate cheesecake for the adults, and the chocolate mousse trifle Tracy Wolfe posted last month, for the kids. My kids enjoy baking and cooking as well, so they'll take care of the trifle.

I could opt to run around the house and clean, or fume over the state of my children's rooms, or spend most of the day studying my own courses. But instead I'm going to take care of the writing, then go take care of me. I used to think this was so self-serving. Now I KNOW that it's self-serving--and that it's a good thing.

Because if Momma Bear is happy, we're all happy!

Peace,

Geri Krotow

Who Wrote the Book of Love?

My husband was singing in the shower this morning. I couldn't make out the words - or the tune, either for that matter as he often forgets to put that part in. I came into the picture when he just said some words out loud. Who wrote the book of love? I heard. I, being lost in serious contemplation, thought the question was directed at me, and, in all seriousness, answered it. God. I said.

And then I actually came up for air and heard a replay of what had just taken place. My husband had been singing a Monotone's oldie. I'd been so lost in the voices in my head, the chapter that I had to write today, that I hadn't been present in my real life romance.

God, my husband repeats. Well, then, that pretty much ends that song right there, doesn't it? Takes away all the mystery.

Sorry, Monotones, didn't mean to dispel any magic from your oldie but goodie.

My husband laughed. Teased me. And by the time he was shaving I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes. And a heart overflowing with love.

And I started to think about that, too. How could sharing something so everyday mundane as a song in the shower mixed with a healthy dose of preoccupation fill me with such magical peace and joy? Who really wrote the book of love?

All of us here write books of love. Many of us do it full time. Eight hours a day. Five days a week. (Or the equivalent thereof.) Many of us work overtime writing books of love. And so many times, when we go out into the world to have dinner with friends, or to the dentist's office, to give a workshop or do a booksigning, we're asked time and again, where do we get our ideas? Who wrote the book of love?

My first Everlasting Love book, The Night We Met, an April, '07 release, was a book of love. I computered the words, but the book, the story came from my parents. I changed things, fictionalized the circumstances, but the love - that was straight from the source. The final scene in that book was almost pure fact. Except that I wasn't the heroine in real life. I was one of the kids standing at the end of the bed. The Night We Met. A book of love. But did I write it?

And the book I'm working on now. I'm putting words down as the voices in my head tell me to do so, but am I making up the feelings that will somehow lift up off the pages and touch a reader's heart? I can't possibly be. I can string words together. I cannot invent warmth that emanates from the inside out.

Over the years of my career I've had countless people come up to me and say something like, 'you write books? I've never met a writer!' There are many variations, but the words are always along that vein and accompanied by a tone of near awe. And every single time I'm left feeling awkward, inadequate, fake. I don't do anything but type the voices in my head. I relay circumstances, I don't create them. I don't write the books. I merely tell the stories.

So who writes the book of love?

I'll tell you who. We all do. You do. Every single reader who reads them does. Every human being on this earth who allows themselves to feel, who opens their hearts to the universal power of connection and charity, who lives, writes the book of love. As authors, we merely tell your stoies. Our stories.

Where do our ideas come from? Ask ten authors you might get ten answers. And yet, in reality there's only one. We get them from all of us. From the living that goes on around us. In some fashion or other, we view the world around us and write what we see.

And this next year, I get to write the ultimate book of love. Harlequin Everlasting Love has just contracted me to write my real life love story. It's going to be pure fact - other than the fictionalized parts! - a true story. I'll be changing things that deal with others in our lives, but the relationship part, the love that survives all, the personal circumstances that love survived, will all be completely as we lived them. And as we're living them.

Because, after all, we wrote the book of love.

Tara Taylor Quinn

Birthdays and Ideas

When I signed up for today, it vaguely registered I would be writing on my dad's birthday. I was busy with other things, namely finishing the manuscript that was due September 1. Now it's time to write my blog entry and it is, indeed, my dad's birthday.

Birthdays were big in our house. We had a special family dinner, received presents -- usually books -- and had a cake. My sophomore year in high school, we had so many students, they divided us into two groups and we had to share the building. I went to school in the afternoons while a new building was being built. My dad was a minister and worked mostly evenings and weekends so we had time together in the morning when he was in town. He and I decided to bake a cake for my mom's birthday. All went well except that we forgot to wait long enough for the layers to cool before frosting. I can still see my dad trying to repair the damage as I left for my classes. He was patching the huge chunks that had come off the cake with bigger chunks of frosting. I don't remember the party that evening. I do remember his intent look as he tried to fix that cake.

So, how does that fit into writing? That image is so clear in my mind, I keep thinking I should use it in a story. A character will want to give a cake, perhaps a birthday cake, to someone who matters. The scene could be used for some comic relief during an intense story or it could be poignant, showing how much the character cares for the cake's recipient. I haven't used the actual scene yet, I do know I've used my dad's intent emotion and the expression on his face while he was working to add layers to at least one scene in a book.

My dad passed away before I published any of my books but he always encouraged me to use my writing abilities. He pushed all of us to think of possibilities and 'what if?' I'm often asked where my ideas come from. For me, they're everywhere and I know it's partly because of his prodding. I have hundreds of scenes like the one above tucked in my brain. I don't know if it's the chicken or the egg: "Do I see ideas everywhere because I write? or "Because I see ideas everywhere, that's why I write?" Possibilities, puzzles, and patterns intrigue me. For instance, since I'm still on the subject of birthdays, the last digit of the birth dates of my mom, my siblings, and myself is either a 4 or a 5. My dad's birth date is the 19th -- the 9. 4+5 = 9. Will I ever use something like that in my stories or an article? I don't know. But maybe. . . And I like the way the numbers/dates tie us all together.

Writing for Everlasting Love gives me a wonderful opportunity to look at families, life, and love. I can pull in all kinds of ideas and show how love and commitment can lead to a happily-ever-after ending. I don't want it to be an easy road, though, for my characters or my readers. So I'll keep pulling out those memories and have my characters fix crumbling birthday cakes or deal with family losses.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Apple-Picking Anyone?

I live in Texas, where it is still in the high eighties and nineties most days-- even though fall is almost officially upon us. But I was born in Detroit and have many fond memories of going apple picking at the end of September and the beginning of October, as the air turned crisp and the apple crops came in. My mom's favorite place to apple pick was Blake's Apple Orchard, where we would start the day with warm cinnamon-sugar donuts and fresh apple cider before spending hours plucking MacIntosh and Granny Smith apples from the trees. Then we would return home and mom invariably would make the biggest, fullest, best apple pie in the whole world. I still can't smell the combination of apples and cinnamon without thinking of those days.


But as it is still hot here in Austin, instead of giving you my mom's apple pie recipe I am instead sharing the absolute best apple dip you'll ever taste. Bring it to your next gathering or simple keep it in the fridge for your kids' after school snack attack. Mine absolutely love it.


1 package cream cheese
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
1 cup Heath Toffee Chips (next to chocolate chips in the baking aisle)
Splash of vanilla


Let the cream cheese come to room temperature and then mix all of the ingredients together. Let chill for half an hour to an hour, and then serve with sliced apples.

Try it-- you'll get rave reviews :)

A Special Friday

The older I get, the faster time flies. I didn't think it was supposed to be this way! In my grandmother's day, growing older meant a woman had a surplus of free time on her hands. She'd been through the wars of raising a large family and was due the rest. Today, grandmothers often have busier lives than their daughters. They're running companies, managing small businesses, bungee jumping, parasailing, taking adventure vacations...and writing.

Is it already September? Where did the past nine months go? I remember last Christmas and a week or two in March, but not much else. For most of that time I was writing my Everlasting Love and so deep into the story that days slipped past me. I was in the Zone, that magical place where the characters and story take over a writer's life.

The Zone can be a little hard on a writer's mate, though. Someone has to pick up the slack. My husband is a wonder. He cooks the meals, washes the dishes, even cleans the bathroom. He's a keeper! And today is his birthday.

Happy Birthday, my love. More today than yesterday and less than tomorrow!
Ginger

Real Life, Real Love

I’m fascinated by what makes love last. What is the glue that binds two people together? They may be separated by great distance and long, empty periods without one another, such as the lovers Marielle and Tomas in my upcoming novella in THE VALENTINE GIFT (February 2008), who are kept apart by the realities of the Cold War and their own sense of duty. Or they may be a couple who have weathered the compromises and challenges of decades spent together, yet still nurture and sustain the spark that initially brought them together.

Sometimes it’s the BIG IDEA that has a profound effect on a couple—a shared loss, forgiveness offered and accepted, or the stunning realization that one has found one’s soulmate. But just as often, it is the accumulation of small gestures and moments of tenderness and humor that weave strength into a long-term relationship. When I was growing up, I witnessed such gestures between my parents. I can still see my mother in the kitchen every evening preparing dinner—frying meatballs or stirring a pot of Neapolitan “gravy” (what the rest of the world calls “tomato sauce”). When my father arrived home from work he headed straight for the kitchen and took her in his arms for a passionate kiss. Every time they exchanged gifts on birthdays and anniversaries, they signed their cards to one another with the initials “ILYWAMH” (I love you with all my heart). If I’m remembering correctly, I believe my mother slipped a card into my father’s casket with those code letters.

In my own marriage (heading toward its 25th anniversary), my husband and I never part or return to one another without a kiss—whether we are leaving for work in the morning, taking off for a business trip or simply going outside to weed the garden. Those kisses punctuate our day with tiny moments of connection. When we’re apart, but at our computers, we send each other brief notes—sometimes just a phrase remembering something funny from the morning that only the two of us can appreciate. And we put into practice Leonardo DiCaprio’s line as Arnie Grape from the movie What’s Eating Gilbert Grape—Say “thank you,” Gilbert. “Thank you.”

Let's Talk Writing Today

It's Wednesday and a good day to talk writing. What makes the Everlasting Love series books different from other series books? We who write them know it's that the love between the hero and heroine spans a longer time period than in other series romance books. Many of these books go back a lifetime. Some of the stories begin when the couple met and life got in the way so they didn't get married. Other of the main characters rediscover their first love after a long separation. Sometimes it requires a flashback into the early lives of the hero or heroine, or both. We as writers have always heard that flashbacks are jarring. That they upset the smooth flow of a story. Yet more and more mainstream books work with the lives of more than the two main characters. So the question I have---do readers like to see the story start, then have it revert back to the time the couple met, or is it preferable to readers to see character A's life to the start of the story, then see how character B reaches the same point, and so forth through all of the major story characters. Or does it matter if a reader gets invested in the first focal character? I don't mind flashbacks. I like to find out what has gone on in the hero and heroines' lives that kept them apart. But, I'd like to know what other people think about the subject.

Tasty Tuesday

Today is September 11, the anniversary of an event that had a profound impact on our society . But as unsettling as current events might be, there are two absolutes. One, the sun will rise tomorrow - yep, even in the Pacific Northwest where the rain falls at least 300 days out of the year. The sun is still up there somewhere. And two, no matter what might be happening, chocolate will always make you feel better. So here's my best kept recipe secret. I share it only with good friends. This one is beyond yummy!

Ann DeFee
Summer After Summer - Harlequin Everlasting Love - September 2007
The Perfect Tree - Harlequin American Romance Christmas Anthology - November 2007
Goin' Down to Georgia - Harlequin American Romance - March 2008


Baby Ruth Cream Cheese Brownies

1 box brownie mix (19.8 oz)

Cream Cheese Swirl
4 Baby Ruth Bars (2.1 oz)
8 oz cream cheese, room temperature
1 egg
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla

Make the brownies

1. Preheat the oven to 350 - spray a 13x9-inch pan with nonstick spray.
2. Chop the candy bars into 1/4-inch chunks.
3. Prepare the brownie mix as directed but don't bake.

Cream Cheese Swirl

1. Cream the softened cream cheese, egg, sugar and vanilla. Fold in the chopped candy bars.
2. Spread the brownie batter in prepared pan. Spoon the cream cheese mixture on top and swirl the cream cheese and brownie batter together for a marble effect.
3. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool before cutting. Makes 18-24 brownies.

Free Online Everlasting Short Story, The Moments

By now, most of you know about Everlasting Love. I'm so excited that my first book, THE HOUSE ON BRIAR HILL ROAD, is released in just a few weeks. It's a book about the Conway family. About their ups and downs...about their pulling together and sadly, about them falling apart.

I was thrilled when I was afforded a chance to do a short story for eHarlequin.com. "The Moments" is tied to my October book. It features the main characters' daughter, Livie. At the end of THOBHR, Livie said, "My mother always said life was made up of the small moments and it was punctuated by the big ones." I knew that sentence had to be the theme of her story. But how to present a broad scope to her romance in a short story? It was a challenge, and really pushed me as a writer. But I think the story shows those moments. You can find it at https://www.eharlequin.com/article.html?articleId=1299

What about you? What sort of moments do you treasure? Not the big, found-the-love-of-your-life, got-married, had-kids sort of moments. But rather the read-the-Sunday-paper-together, walk-the-dog-in-the-evenings sort. (Uh, those are two of my favorite kinds of little moments with my dh, btw! LOL)

So, what about you?

Holly

"The Moments" 9-10-07 through 10-29-07
THE HOUSE ON BRIAR HILL ROAD, 10/07

About Last Night . . .

How do my husband and I keep the romance alive? Geez, this week is not the week to ask me that! With all three of my boys going in twelve different directions each, my husband's insane work week and my laying the foundation for my brand new classes while I finish up my latest novel, my honey and I have been like ships passing in the night. If we even get that. But last night, my husband reminded me that love and romance is often in the small stuff and not the grand gestures.

I walked in the door at ten-thirty last night after teaching for five hours straight-- after spending the day taking my youngest to two different doctors and a physical therapy appointment while at the same time trying to take care of my other two, do lesson plans for my evening classes, help my oldest with his science project, talk to an agent, make dinner and squeeze in a few minutes to write. The house was a mess when I left and I expected it to be worse when I got home (as it usually is on my late nights) but to my surprise and everlasting gratitude, the kitchen was cleaned, the house was straightened and all three of my wonderful little monsters were in bed.

The joy was indescribable. And when hubby logged off his work as soon as I came upstairs and settled on the couch with me to watch Jay Leno and give me a foot massage, it made up for all the bad things that have gone on this week (and there've been a few really terrible ones). The fact that he knew how exhausted I was-- and how sad-- and took time from his own busy schedule to make me feel better meant the world to me, because it meant that he was really paying attention to what I needed despite the fact that his pacehas been almost as frantic as mine lately.

So while I appreciate being surprised with a bouquet of flowers or a picnic in the park or dinner at my favorite restaurant, in my book nothing compares to the romance of a clean house and a good foot rub :)

THOUGHTFUL THURSDAY

Yesterday I finish the first draft of my May Everlasting, ALWAYS A MOTHER. Yay for me! The story is about a forty-three year old woman facing an unplanned pregnancy. Her other two children are grown and she has a hard time handling the thought of starting over at her age.

As I wrote this book I thought about mothers and all the love they give their children, and the sacrifices given out of that love. It also made me think about my mom and her unconditional love my brothers and I took for granted. I thought about a lot of things that made me tear up, but I also thought about the funny things, thing that made us laugh.

I was married when my mom went through menopause. My dad’s theory was to humor her and it would go away. He had an Archie Bunker attitude. Remember the episode where Archie said, “Edith, I’m going to snap my fingers and I want you to change.” Well, my dad did a lot of silent snapping of his fingers.

I remember one time vividly. She’d invited us for Sunday dinner. My mom was a great cook. You could gain five pounds by breathing the smell in her kitchen. That day she made chicken fried steak with all the trimmings. Well, almost. My baby brother and nephew were there, too, and we sat down to eat. My dad looked at the food on the table and asked, “Where’s the gravy?”

Mom replied, “I wasn’t in the mood for gravy.”

My dad looked at us, his eyebrows knotted together. I was trying to give him a look that said just let it go, but it didn’t work.

“How in the $$$$ are we supposed to eat chicken fried steak without gravy?” he snapped.

“With a fork,” she said, and got up and went to the refrigerator and brought back ketchup. She plopped it onto the table without a word and took her seat.

We all waited for what my dad would do. He grabbed the bottle and mumbled, “I’ll be glad when this is over.”

We laughed a lot about that dinner over the years and I always wished I could have helped my mom more during that time. I was young, though, and didn’t quite understand the emotional upheaval she was going through. Boy, I do now. Women are saints, I tell you. So here’s to mothers everywhere. And may you always have gravy with you chicken fried steak.

Or not.

Chicken Soup in Texas?

Today is Tasty Tuesday, so here's what's going on in my life foodwise:

I'm hosting a dinner for twelve people next week in honor of Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. In the past, my husband and I enjoyed the holidays in Masachusetts or New York where the weather is delightfully autumn. Now we live in Houston where autumn is defined by one brown leaf in December. And it's hot. Hot as in 90 degrees every day.

A few years ago, when I was a newcomer to Texas, I hosted a Rosh Hashana dinner and because of the weather, omitted serving chicken soup. Oy vey! What a mistake. A definite no-no. It was like having an empty seat at the table. So, I've already made the soup for next week - and froze it. I'll make the matzo balls on the morning of the dinner and refrigerate.

My mother taught me that the secret to good chicken soup is to make it with a lot of root vegetables - onions, carrots, parsnips and leeks. She said the vegetables give it "strength." When the soup is finished, I remove the vegetables except for the carrots before serving. I must be doing something right - everyone wants seconds.

Despite this soup discussion, I'm not offering you a recipe. Not because I don't want to share, but because everyone in the world has their own favorite ways of making chicken soup, and they're all good! In fact, my new favorite is Chicken Tortilla soup with lovely avocado slices right next to the chicken. After all, I'm in Texas now...

...and wishing all of you a very sweet year no matter when you celebrate.

Best always,
Linda

P.S. In THE SOLDIER AND THE ROSE, Rose makes a Hanukkah dinner of brisket and potato latkes.

Memory Monday

Memories – I have so many, but naturally my favorites feature the people I love most. My hubby is my partner, my best friend, my lover, my confidante and (how about this) my housekeeper. His bathroom cleaning skills are a bit iffy, but he’s an ace at vacuuming. Plus, he does most of the cooking. And he does it all to give me more time to write. Now that’s a keeper!

We met on a blind date, and before we knew what hit us – zap, we were goners. Since that fortuitous Mayday – yep, it was May 1 – we’ve lived through the good, the bad and the downright funny. We moved twenty-six times (nope, we weren’t running from the law, we’re an Air Force family) and been through hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, blizzards and teenage hormonal angst. Whew!

But, the good times have definitely rolled. Every one of our moves was a great adventure. We’ve been privy to the inner sanctum of the British Parliament, ventured out on a Maine lobster boat, descended into a Welsh coal mine, and heated our entire house with a coal stove (now that was a kick in the pants). Yep, I’ve had a ball and the best part is I’ve had a wonderful person to share it with.

In Summer After Summer (my September Everlasting), Charlie and Jazzy prove that high school love can transcend numerous barriers and endure through the decades.

That’s the kind of love we all want.

Happy reading,
Ann

Ann DeFee
Somewhere Down in Texas – Harlequin American Romance – March 2007
Georgia On His Mind – Harlequin American Romance – August 2007
Summer After Summer – Harlequin Everlasting Love – September 2007
The Perfect Tree – Harlequin American Romance Christmas Anthology – November 2007
Goin’ Down to Georgia – Harlequin American Romance – March 2008

Fun Friday--For Real at Chez Krotow!

Wooo Hooo!!! I just finished another book, and I've met another deadline. There's nothing that compares to this, except perhaps when we birth our sweet children, if we're so blessed.
I plan and manage my time for each project, but the last week or two can be very "tense" as I await my final ideas, re-read each page, have a trusted friend check for typos.

But then the sun rises--and I print out the entire manuscript. I add any proposals I have for new story ideas. And send it all off to my dear editor.

This second story is another Harlequin Everlasting Love, tentatively scheduled for a February 2009 release. The heroine is a fiber artist, and knits, as I do. It was a joy to include knitting as a backdrop, and a relief, as the emotions these characters go through got quite intense along the way.

I'm celebrating by enjoying my daughter's birthday sleepover tonight. We're going to make iron-on t-shirts, and eat junk food. Plus watch a silly pre-teen movie or two, I'm sure. I can knit while the girls giggle and get popcorn kernels all over the house. Of course, our black-lab mix dog, Shadow, will be a great vacuum cleaner. And did I mention our parrot, whom we've had for nineteen years? He'll be mimicking the giggles and squeals at the top of his lungs, just for effect.

I hope you get to celebrate this three-day weekend (if you're in the States) in a special way with your family. I've heard it said that suffering is inevitable but joy is a choice. I do my best to have at least a little joy in each day. How about you?