The pretend relationship or fake marriage is one of my favourite romance tropes. If done well, it can be dramatically tense, underlain with emotion, and deeply satisfying when the end reveals sincerity to the pretense. The pretend relationship is usually for show. Like the marriage of convenience, it’s meant to serve an aim—securing an inheritance, satisfying family expectations, or spurring (or repulsing) a romantic rival. Sometimes both the heroine and hero gain from the charade, sometimes only one of them is actually motivated towards the ostensible goal and the other is reluctantly brought along. Usually one of them is emotionally attached from the start and the other realizes it as the sham relationship plays out. The characters often bond over the joint venture, on the principle that they are two against the world and usually the only two who are aware of the deception. Of course, there are lots of variations on this theme. I have to admit that I have mixed feelings about those fake relationships where the sham is itself a sham and one of the characters made it up to embark on that joint venture with the other, with the sole aim of showing them that they…

At Marly’s, Jo hit pay dirt. Loud and smoky despite the laws suggesting people not smoke indoors, and littered with hard bodies and hard liquor, Jo felt at home. A few heads swiveled her way as she moved toward the bar. That’s when she saw him. He had his back to her, a tight T-shirt stretched across a thick layer of muscles built by hours at the gym, and maybe a few steroids. She really hoped steroids were not this guy’s thing. Ink peeked out on both his arms just above the sleeve line. A shadow of growth gave evidence that his baldness was by choice. He had a nice ass. Now if only his face matched. She waited until her gaze inched up his spine like an insect in the forest on a hot summer night. He turned, and her heart stopped. Good Lord, God broke the mold with this one. His goatee was trimmed, immaculately so. His lips were full, his jaw tight . . . and his eyes. Dark, almost haunting. Dangerous. He did a once-over, and when his eyes met hers, he lifted one side of his lips in a half smile. One that asked ….

– or – Let Us Praise Mr. John Impey of the Inner Temple There’s a saying about the past; it’s another country and they do things differently there. That means that authors and amateur historians all owe debts of gratitude to those brave souls who penned the travel guides. This becomes really clear when you’re researching the law and policing. Before 1828, England did not have a professional police force administered by the government. In fact, the ruling elite actively resisted the creation of any such institution. They insisted it would be an infringement on the traditional freedoms of Englishmen. As an example, they pointed to Napoleon and his secret police (who were, to be fair, really bad). This freewheeling attitude created a lot of headaches back in the day. It created more than a few for me as I was trying to do my research for the Rosalind Thorne mysteries. In 1817, when my books, A USEFUL WOMAN and A PURELY PRIVATE MATTER take place, London was on its way to becoming the biggest, and wealthiest, city in the Western World. Despite this, crime prevention and investigation was performed by a really loose patchwork of institutions. In fact to…

Readers who enjoyed my first Writer’s Apprentice mystery, A DARK AND STORMY MURDER, don’t have to wait much longer for the sequel. DEATH IN DARK BLUE debuts on May 2. Since I don’t want to delve too deeply into the storyline and risk spoilers, I thought I’d talk a little more about Blue Lake, the fictional town where all the mystery happens. A Dark and Stormy Murder #1 Amazon.com BN.com iTunes/iBooks Kobo Google Play Death in Dark Blue #2 Amazon.com BN.com iTunes/iBooks Kobo Google Play Blue Lake is an amalgam of any number of Midwestern small towns I’ve visited, and even Bick’s Hardware has shades of other hardware stores I’ve seen over fifty years. One in particular stands out. It was a wonderful old store in Valparaiso, Indiana—my college town!—and I happened to wander into this place when I was twenty and searching, just before Christmas break, for family Christmas gifts. I had chosen my brother Christopher’s name in the family grab bag, and I wanted to buy him a saw and a flannel shirt (both on his list). So I walked the mile from campus to Valpo’s downtown strip, and I stumbled across an amazing place called Wark’s Hardware….

The things you learn while researching a book can be very interesting in and of themselves. Everyone of a certain age remembers the Sears catalog as a place to order clothing, toys, and home goods, but did you know that an entire house could be ordered from Sears in the early twentieth century? A mail order home, also known as a “kit house”, was a parcel of goods containing precut wood, windows, shingles, and all the other items needed to build a house. The parcel was usually shipped to the desired location by rail. The would-be homeowner provided the labor and, often, the concrete and bricks needed to construct a foundation. The pieces were often labeled to assist in assembly, just like a model kit. During the mid-1920s, land lots in Florida sold like crazy. The West Coast Development Company was selling undeveloped parcels in Homosassa, the setting of our book. The St. Petersburg papers were filled with real estate ads. Harry Prettyman was advertising Gold Rushes in Oldsmar, burying gold pieces in vacant lots as a promotional gimmick. Empty lots needed houses on them. Most of them were constructed by traditional builders, but others were built from kits. Sears…

After many rejections, from publishers, I decided to write the book I wanted and not the book I thought publishers wanted. Keeping in mind this was just before the “explosion” of e-books and self publishing. It was a dangerous decision because I had no idea what I was going to do with the book once I’d finished it. Against good advice from a prolific, multi-published author in the romance writing industry, I went ahead and created Alex Jackson, a super star who can sing and tap-dance. My heroine, in KISSES UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT, had a best friend and I just loved writing the book. In the final wedding scene, I couldn’t let the BFF go. She had to have her own story so I wrote, WANTING MR RIGHT. I now had two books I loved, with two BFFs. Perfect. But then one day when coming home from my corporate job I thought about a character in the first book and wondered what happened to her. Sandwiched between commuters, I sketched my ideas for a third book, which became TOGETHER AT LAST. I now had three books and was very happy with them. And then it was suggested I write a…

Have you ever been to Blessings, Georgia? You should take a trip there someday. There aren’t any tourist destinations, but there is a feeling within that sleepy Southern town unlike any place I’ve ever been. Every time I begin a new story, I get to revisit the residents, some of whom are aggravating, and some who will melt your heart upon introduction. But they all have one thing in common. When someone is in need, they come together without judgment, giving of themselves and their time, sharing joy and grief. I wish I lived there. Every time I finish a story, I feel lost…like I moved away from my own special Eden. Everyone should live in a place like this at least once in their lives, if for no other reason than to be reminded of the good in the world, and what love for your fellow man really means. COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS was the novella that introduced my readers to this place and the people who live there. Each story is a stand-alone book, but with continuing characters that pop in and out of ensuing episodes of life in Blessings. The latest saga to come out of Blessings is…

Writing books for a living is nothing to complain about: I work from home, I spend my days largely uninterrupted, and then, you know, there are the champagne parties, the ball gowns and the book launches parties with cake pops because oh my God I never really got over the cake pop craze and it’s become a little embarrassing. I live on a military base, so my alarm clock is less the soothing sounds of my local radio station, and more the sound of five aircraft taking off about 500m from my bedroom window. I roll over, stretch and then remember my deadlines. An empty pit opens in my stomach. I get out of bed, put my glasses on and go into the bathroom. Too much. I remove my glasses and everything looks much better – good enough for me to think that last night’s make up will do for the day too. The first celebration of the day is when I realize that my dog hasn’t pooped in the kitchen. Fist pump. It’s going to be a good day, and obviously the pup is feeling better too. Win-win. After coffee, I give the dogs a quick walk. The looks…

I typically write historical romances set in England, but for this series, I decided to switch things up and head north to Scotland. Just like the Townsend family in ENCHANTING THE EARL, I made my own voyage to Scotland (albeit in cars and planes instead of driving a carriage for weeks over rough terrain). Since I don’t have room to list all the things I loved about my trip, I’ll limit myself to five. The Highlands. Scotland is beautiful and the Highlands in particular are a striking and unique mix of windswept moors, high mountain peaks, lush green hills, deep lochs, and vast gray sea. In some parts, it looks almost otherworldly. If you can handle a little inclement weather, the scenery is definitely worth the trip. The food. Food snobs might look down on me for this, but whatever—I thought the food was pretty tasty. The seafood is super fresh, and you can get it however you like it, from steamed mussels in a fancy meal to the golden fried perfection of fish and chips. I was a little iffy on haggis (though it certainly wasn’t bad), and I surprised myself by liking black pudding. Also, the desserts— cranachan…

My new book, MARRY IN HASTE is the start of a brand new “Convenient Marriage” series. It stars Cal Rutherford, an officer in the army, who has just become Lord Ashendon. Cal is a man’s man, a career soldier who thinks he knows how to handle women, but really has no idea. Hint: they’re not the same as soldiers; strangely, women don’t take kindly to being ordered around. Cal does, however, know how to kiss. Here he is walking our heroine, Emmaline Westwood home at night, after she was caught up in a brawl at a political meeting. They’re in Bath. It’s their first kiss. He broke off, noticing, in the light of the lamp overhead, a stain on her otherwise pale face. “Stand still,” he ordered, and when she glanced at him in surprise he caught her by the shoulders and turned her toward the light. A bruise was forming on her cheekbone, and dried blood made a dark crust around one of her nostrils. And, now that he looked, drops of blood stained the front of her clothing. “Dammit, you were injured too. Why didn’t you say something?” Flustered, she tried to move away. “I’m perfectly all r—”…