I fell in love with Seattle’s famed Pike Place Market as a college freshman, not long after the city’s voters saved it from “urban removal.” I made it my mission to eat my way from one end to the other, and since the Market is constantly changing, that mission will keep me happy, and well-fed, for a long time! The Food. The Market is the heart and soul–and stomach–of the city. You can eat just about anything here. Start with a slice of pizza at DeLaurenti’s Italian grocery. Sample spice tea at Market Spice. Italian, French, Greek, Thai, Middle Eastern, Chinese, Persian, Vietnamese. Clam chowder, oysters, barbecue, dim sum, piroshky. Bagels, crumpets, crepes, and cheesecake. Stop at the original Starbucks. Sip wine, beer, ginger beer. Okay, I’m hungry now. History. Founded in 1907, the Market is considered the oldest continuously operating farmers’ market in the country. It was the first mixed-use commercial and residential project named to the National Historic Register. The Architecture. A historic commission oversees the Market’s physical operations, with a mandate to keep the look and feel accurate. Pike Place, the street running through the Market, is still cobbled. Buildings maintain their original designs, colors, and materials….

If you travel to north Louisiana and listen carefully, whispers on the cypress-laden air will tell you legendary tales of a young woman who repeatedly tried to make lemon bars. The trees shield their eyes from the tragic tale of utter failure, while the bayous draw their waters up tight in sympathy and shame. . . Well, okay, that might be exaggerated, but not by far. Confession: I don’t bake. If you say the word “lemon bar” around my mom, she turns ghostly pale from blocked memories of my attempts to make those pesky little yellow desserts all through high school. Never got it right. I’m convinced they’re my nemesis. Now, don’t get me wrong–I can make a mean batch of Pillsbury chocolate chip cookies. You know, the kind where you cut open the package and place the already perfectly circular bits of dough onto a cookie sheet and bake for 12-15 minutes? I’ve got that down! In fact, I make them a little on the “not quite done” side, and people rave. Everyone always wants me to bring those to parties, like I did something spectacular. (and when I remember the lemon bars, I’m convinced I did) My mother…

Mid-century American realist painter Edward Hopper is celebrated for Nighthawks, his 1947 work in which customers in an all-night diner are viewed through a plate glass window lit by a neon light, and his 1927 Automat, where a girl in a cloche and fur-trimmed coat gazes pensively into a coffee cup in a lonely cafeteria. Hopper returned to that enigmatic woman again and again. He painted her throughout his career. In AUTOMAT, Denver Art Museum Conservator of Paintings Lily Sparks pursues a killer who targets actresses who bring Hopper’s works to life. Lily’s perfect eye tells her the man in Hopper’s paintings also holds clues to the killer’s identity. And just as the famous artist kept painting the same iconic woman, the killer must keep killing her. Five top Hopper paintings convince Lily she’s on the right track. Hopper started out illustrating trade magazine covers. In 1906, on his first trip to Paris, he painted the watercolor Couple near Poplars. In the style of the day, a Gibson girl with upswept hair and a pinafore over her corseted waist stands with a beanstalk of a man with a pencil moustache and a beret. He’s trying to draw her closer, but…

Years ago, when my kids were younger, I took my family to the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus. It was billed as the “Greatest Show on Earth,” and it certainly lived up to its name. We had seats front and center, so the whole spectacle was laid out before our eyes. The children in the audience weren’t the only ones oohing and aahing at the grand performance. The adults were amazed, too. All the regular elements were part of the show. The ringmaster led the events with his booming voice. The clowns made us laugh with their silly antics. The dancers entertained us with their choreographed routines. But it was the skill of the acrobats that really made an impression on me. At one point, a group of them climbed poles whose tops swayed in the rafters far above the floor. The performers weren’t attached to safety lines, nor was a net stretched below them to break a fall. Apparently unbothered by this, the acrobats scampered up the pole to a tiny platform, where they did handstands on even hung by their feet. One slip and they would have been in big trouble. Yet they seemed perfectly at…

Our poodle-mix, Houdini, loves his stuffed animal friends. He takes very good care of them, gently gnawing them and periodically arranging them decoratively on our bed or couch. When we adopted our chihuahua-mix, Sheba, she acted like she’d never seen a toy, and her instinct was to grab those stuffed animals and shred them. Her attack on his toys was very distressing for Houdini. He would circle, faster and faster, when she was destroying a toy, working himself into a frenzy. After the destruction, he would lie next to the pieces looking quite mournful. Then, suddenly, Sheba stopped destroying the stuffed animals. To this day, I don’t know what happened between them, but Sheba became blind to the stuffed animals. She acts like they don’t exist. I like to believe that as Houdini and Sheba developed their bond, she became aware that her actions distressed him and decided to stop. Now, Houdini keeps his collection of stuffed friends in good repair. If you come to visit, he’ll show them to you one at a time. Sometimes, guests think he wants to play tug-o-war. He does not. He merely likes to have others admire his collection. Excerpt from Tail for Two:…

Have you ever planned something so perfectly, only to have it be a complete flop? On the other hand, have you had something randomly brilliant happen that came at the right time because you were in the right place? TheBook Magic Mysteries, for me, is that bit of random brilliance. The beginning of the Book Magic Mysteries started about three years ago with a neighborhood walk. I was with my good friend and fellow mystery writer, Wendy Lyn Watson. On this walk, she had been musing about a book idea featuring a bibliomancer. Being a book lover, I was immediately hooked by the idea. I insisted that she write this book, but adulting got in the way (in the form of other book contracts and Wendy’s day job as a professor). Fast forward to 2020. Wendy and I were talking from afar (I moved to North Carolina, and Wendy is still in North Texas) and the bibliomancy series came up during our conversation. One thing led to another, and pretty soon we were plotting an epic series that spans two coasts, features cousins Cora Lane and Pippin Lane Hawthorne, and centers around the Lane women’s gift (or curse) of bibliomancy….

I have to say, I never thought I’d be writing about a pandemic. Right? For months now, we have been living a lifestyle far from ideal–from lockdown quarantine to regular quarantine, to let’s-expand-our-bubble quarantine. I’m a reality TV/trash TV junkie, so when this all started, I was glad to binge on train wrecks like Tiger King and Too Hot to Handle. Sadly, during quarantine, I didn’t acquire a new skill or hobby. Some habits, though, did change. For instance, I’ve always been an audiobook addict–mainly because I used to drive the kids to school and activities, and on my way home I’d always listen to my romance books. But then, with not having to drive anywhere, I could only listen to audiobooks and podcasts when I walked my dog. As much as I love walking my dog (and I have to otherwise he goes crazy), I’m also not training for a marathon. So, in short: I needed another way of reading. I love my Kindle and am used to buying eBooks versus paperbacks anytime. However, because of distance learning and the amount of my own writing I had to do, I couldn’t add more screen time. I didn’t want my…

Forgiveness is one of the themes woven throughout the pages of my historical time-slip novel, Under the Tulip Tree. In it, Frankie, a 101-year-old former slave, tells the story of her life to Rena, a young white woman who works for the Federal Writers’ Project, a government program that employed thousands of out-of-work writers, teachers, librarians, and others during the Great Depression. As an unlikely friendship emerges between the two women, a startling revelation threatens to undo the bond of respect and admiration they’ve nurtured. Can they overcome it? The answer hinges on one word: forgiveness. Forgiveness means different things to different people, but in Under the Tulip Tree and in this article, I’m referring to the biblical definition. The original Greek word that appears in the New Testament is aphiemi, a verb with several meanings: to send away; to expire; to let go; to disregard; to give up a debt; to keep no longer. In Under the Tulip Tree, both Frankie and Rena are faced with situations that require them to forgive someone, yet forgiveness is not easy. In fact, it can be one of the hardest things we’ll ever do, especially if the offense left us traumatized. As…

My favorite tropes to write have traditionally been Friends-to-Lovers and Second Chance romance. The reason is, out of all those familiar tropes, those are the two I’ve seen played out in reality most. There’s something hopeful about them, and while not every pair of friends can morph their relationship into a healthy romantic one, and not every relationship deserves a second chance, there’s definitely some appeal there. More than tropes, though, I have favorite themes. My main one is redemption because I believe that those who truly want to right the wrongs of the past should have a chance to do so when that redemption doesn’t lead to the ill effects for someone else. Another theme I often write about is self-discovery. That’s been a big theme in my life, especially over the last few years. My characters are just imperfect people, looking to be loved in a healthy, fulfilling way and that something I think we all want, regardless of orientation, gender, race, color, or creed. When reading romance, which I don’t get to do as much as I’d like, I read pretty widely, without regard to trope. I do have a few tropes I won’t read, including racists…

All right, let’s talk first loves. No, I don’t mean that sexy bad boy from school. I’m talking about the paper kind. Those first, unforgettable books that were your introduction–your gateway drug, if you will–into the wonderful world of Romance. Was it that illicit stash of Harlequins you discovered at your grandma’s house? The dog-eared bodice-ripper you reluctantly started because it was the only book in the vacation rental that wasn’t by Stephen King? Whatever it was, it changed your life for the better. I was, I admit, a latecomer to romance. I’d studied ‘Serious, Proper Literature’ at University–which generally meant books written by men. I’d read everything from Chaucer to James Joyce, Shakespeare to Kafka. And I’d noticed how few of the women in those ‘classics’ ever achieved success or received any pleasure. If they did, they were usually punished, or ended up dead. I clung, ever hopeful, to the sparsest of romantic threads, but ended up shouting at my paperbacks instead; “Forget the train station, Anna Karenina! Run off with Vronsky and bloody well live happily ever after.” “Step away from the poison, Madame Bovary, he’s not worth it!” Don’t even get me started on Tess of the…