Wednesday, October 21, 2020

Welcome, Shirley Goldberg!

 The old cliche about readers asking writers where their ideas come from? No one’s asked me that question. What they do ask is, “Did you really date 25 guys like your character in your book?” 

They’re curious about how much of my book is autobiographical. 

It’s complicated.


Some of Middle Ageish is based on real online dates I’ve––cough––enjoyed. So yes, I did meet a man who talked about his son way too much. (See the excerpt from the book, below.) As anyone who’s indulged in online dating knows, talking about one’s son is nothing more than an irritation when compared with the criminal acts perpetrated on well-meaning daters. (Now I sound like my Aunt Patty, who watched a lot of cop shows.)


What did these guys do? Everything from canceling at the last minute to the guy who waited outside the restaurant to look me over before introducing himself.  


We writers draw, in part, from our lives. But it’s call fiction for a reason. 


You get to lie. 


Lawrence Block, a crime writer with a column in Writers Digest for many years, wrote a book titled, Telling Lies for Fun and Profit. It’s a collection of his columns with highly entertaining tips about writing and the publishing industry. 


Lying is the fun part because…well, I’m not writing a memoir. 


I’m a reader. All writers are readers. Although I read across genres––recently dipping into paranormal and fantasy––my favorite is women’s fiction. Now that’s a broad category, and it ranges from the serious to the super light and fluffy. 


These days, I look for humor in my reading life with an occasional detour into more substantial reads. What grabs me? Relationship stories of all kinds. A believable meet-cute that’s not over the top. Conversations between characters that are realistic yet entertaining and show why they’re attracted to one another. Subtle yet playful. A great break-up scene where the guy deserves to be kicked in the nut sack––metaphorically, of course. Or telling off the big boss and walking away, corny as that sounds. Haven’t we all wished we’d had the nerve? Also love relating to the changes a character undergoes as the story unwinds. These are the elements that resonate for me in a story. 


So back to the autographical stuff. 


I’ll admit it, I exaggerated in the Donald scene. I took a mediocre date with a man who talked way too much about his son, and added a frustrated woman who grabs her chance to get back at him, if only a little bit. In real life, there was no phone call from another date, and I didn’t cut the evening short. 


Many times I’ve wished I had the guts to follow my instinct, or my character’s example. 


The thing about using real life experiences as a foundation for a scene is after a while I tend to forget what really happened. The more I read over and edit the fictional version, the more it becomes, in my mind, the real thing. 


The teaching scenes in the book came from my experience as a teacher, and anyone who spends time with adolescents, especially fellow teachers, will identify with Sunny, my heroine. Kids are masters at finding your weaknesses. 


Last, there’s the M word. Marketing. The hippo in the writing room. 


Although most readers don’t think about it, marketing––getting your book in front of readers––is tough. So many platforms, so little time. Learning how to market is like taking a series of graduate courses without the teacher. 


So, dear readers, one suggestion from an author who’s also, of course, a reader. 


If you love a book, take a few minutes to write a review. Reviews are the gift to authors that keeps on giving. 




Sunny Chanel's marriage is circling the drain when her husband marks his colonoscopy on the calendar and ignores their anniversary. With divorce papers instead of roses on the horizon, she says "au revoir" Paris and croissants, and "hello" cheap New Haven apartment and ramen noodles.

With the encouragement of her friends, Sunny jumps into online dating, twenty-three years and twenty pounds after her last date. To her surprise she discovers dating might require a helmet, and occasionally armor to protect her heart, but after years of being ignored, her adventurous side craves fun and conversation. She’s middle-aged not dead. Then suddenly, on the way to reinventing herself, life takes a left turn when the one man she can't forget calls with an unexpected request.


Excerpt:  “The Donald Scene”             


It was after six. In the last fifteen minutes, I’d checked my watch three times, holding my wrist at lap level so Donald, my latest meet, wouldn’t notice. 

Nope, too busy texting. 

On my second glass of wine—we’d hit the early bird special, Donald’s suggestion—at a new fish place on the water, The Fin and Tater. The air surrounding us held the briny scent of fresh tuna and their specialty, fifteen potato dishes, from sweet mashed to curly and deep fried in olive oil. 

“One minute, almost done here,” his thumbs operating at warp speed on his phone, an oversize smart phone. 

Would Donald ever get off his phone? I salivated. An appetizer, however small, would do the trick. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Don’t like to be unavailable to Johnny. So. Where was I? Oh, did I tell you he just turned twelve?” 


His phone dinged, signaling another text. “Sorry, one second.”

The urge to gulp the wine was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to sip slowly, realizing my whole face was clenched. 

And here I was in the shortish red skirt to my red suit, feeling pretty jazzed. For what? So Donald could text-date his son on my time? 

Plus, there was the hunger factor. 

My phone pinged with a chat alert from the dating site. Since it was easier to text, and I was twiddling away here with a few popovers for company, I sent José my phone number. Twenty seconds later, he texted. 

Are you busy? Wanna talk?

I took another sip of wine. Wasn’t chatting with one guy while on a date with another bad form?

Um hmm. I’m not busy, I texted. 

I headed for the door, waving my phone in the air so Donald would know I was stepping outside for my own phone call. 

“Hey, Sunny. Glad you can talk.”

His voice was a purr, and my whole body reacted in a jumpy adrenaline mini-rush. 

“Me too,” I said. “You caught me at a good time.”


About the Author


Shirley Goldberg is a writer, novelist, and former ESL and French teacher who’s lived in Paris, Crete, and Casablanca. She writes about men and women of a certain age starting over. Her website offers a humorous look into dating in mid life, and her friends like to guess which stories are true.  Middle Ageish is her first book in the series Starting Over. Her character believes you should never leave home without your sense of humor and Shirley agrees. 





My Socials



Where to grab Middle Ageish




Nook/Barnes and Noble:








Monday, October 5, 2020

Another Speaking Engagement

 I was the guest speaker at my Temple’s Sisterhood breakfast and I had so much fun!

Anyone who knows me, and reads the above sentence, is now convinced I lost my mind. But I didn’t. I really had a good time.


It quite possibly could be due to the pandemic. This was the first organized activity with people other than my family that I’ve attended since March. But keeping everyone’s safety in mind, the breakfast was held outdoors in the parking lot. We all brought our own chairs (and our own breakfast) so no one was touching anything or anyone. We all wore masks, except when I spoke to the group (although I double checked with the ladies sitting in front of me, about ten feet away, to make sure they were okay with me taking off my mask).


I wasn’t expecting a huge turnout. I mean, I was advertised as the featured speaker and I don’t think I’m that exciting. But there were about 20 people (two per parking space—we were really spread out), which was great. Just the right size for me to not freak out over speaking in public. And my friends were there, so even though I was speaking, I was talking to nice people.

Since I have done this before, I put together a twenty-minute speech that touched on a little of everything—what it’s like to be a romance writer, information about the industry, what my writing process and style is, and of course, the Jewish angle (see location of speech, above). I mentioned a few of my books and took questions at the end. People laughed in all the right places, which was also gratifying. 


I did not sell books. First of all, this event wasn’t billed that way. And second of all, I really don’t know how to sell physical books to actual people in a safe way during Covid. But hey, that’s the beauty of my books being available online. At the end, I directed them to my website and to Amazon and Barnes & Noble. If they’re interested, they’ll buy.


My one screw-up? At the beginning of the breakfast, we were asked to introduce ourselves and to name an item starting with our first initial that we’d bring to the “campfire”—since we were sitting outside and all. My name is Jennifer, and I did NOT think to say Jewish romance. Sigh.

Wednesday, September 30, 2020

Welcome, Debby Grahl

I'm happy to host my fellow Wild Rose author, Debby Grahl. She's talking about the inspiration for her latest book, and giving you a sneak peek at it.

I love both the ocean and mountains. I live near the ocean, and thankfully my cousins live a few hours away in North Carolina. The idea for Mountain Blaze came to me while we were all touring the area around Asheville, NC. It was Fall, and the spectacular display of color against the backdrop of the Smoky Mountains was breathtaking. We hiked a while and discovered a scenic overlook which revealed a stream winding through the valley below.

We came upon a small ranch with cabins to rent and horseback riding. As we waited for the horses to be saddled for a trail ride, my writer’s imagination replaced the nice older man with a handsome cowboy. Now, what would be his story? As we rode through the lush woods, the air fragrant with the smell of pine, Dillon McCoy took shape in my mind.

We drove down the mountain into Waynesville. This is a great little town where I discovered Mast General. A fun old-fashioned country store, this is one of my favorite places to shop. We decided to stop in a café, and while sipping a delicious cup of coffee, I noticed an attractive woman seated at an adjacent table. Her clothes were stylish. She looked as if she had just walked off Fifth Avenue. Once again, my writer’s imagination took over, and Diana Thompson was born. Now, what circumstances could bring the cowboy and the wealthy city girl together? 

In all my books, I like to have some type of mystery. So not only do Diana and Dillon need to meet, they must discover what outside force is determined to keep them apart and endanger their lives.


Mountain Blaze blurb: Disillusioned by his wife’s betrayal, rodeo star Dillon McCoy comes home to the mountains of North Carolina to lick his wounds. When he agrees to take over the family ranch, the Lazy M, he’s unaware danger waits.

Diana Thompson is having doubts about her engagement to Trent Sawyer. She agrees to leave Chapel Hill and spend Thanksgiving with her friend Jenn at the Lazy M. When Diana and Dillon meet, neither can deny their attraction, but both must resolve past relationships while fighting their growing desire. 

After Dillon turns down an anonymous offer to purchase the ranch, attempts are made on his life. When a body is found, Dillon sets out to discover who wants the McCoy land enough to commit murder.




Dillon smiled and Diana thought it the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. There was a slight cleft in his chin, and fine lines formed at the corners of his eyes. Diana inwardly groaned. The butterflies were back.

“I’d hold onto you. I wouldn’t let you fall,” he softly said.

With his slow southern accent, the words sounded like warm honey rolling off his tongue. The depth of his eyes and the sound of his voice mesmerized her.

The horses stood side by side. Her and Dillon’s legs touched. He leaned toward her, and the light aroma of wood smoke, hay, and his spicy cologne filled her nostrils. Diana knew what he was about to do but had no willpower to stop him. He cupped her cheek and their lips met.

Gentle at first, his lips glided over hers. He increased the pressure until she opened her mouth and his tongue slipped in. Diana moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms around her waist, he deepened the kiss. Before she realized what he was doing, without breaking their kiss Dillon lifted her from Flora and placed her across his lap.

Cradled in his arms, Diana clung to him, delicious sensations filling her. Her body came alive in a way that surprised her. The only thing that mattered was this man and this moment.

Flame moved, bringing her back to reality. Diana’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared into Dillon’s, deep with passion and need.

Buy links

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Award winning author Debby Grahl lives on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, with her husband, David. Besides writing, she enjoys biking, walking on the beach and a glass of wine at sunset. She is a history buff who also enjoys reading murder mysteries, time travel, and, of course, romance. Visually impaired since childhood by Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), she uses screen-reading software to research and write her books. 


You can find Debby at the following:

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Wednesday, September 23, 2020

Welcome, Kimberly Baer!

Even a smell can spur inspiration

I write stories. I have to. My head is stuffed full of ideas, and it would explode if I didn’t get at least some of them down on paper. Inspiration comes from a variety of sources—daydreams, night dreams, my own experiences, and random things I hear about. 

Take my recently published YA paranormal novel, The Haunted Purse. The idea for that story came to me after my car keys disappeared from my purse and magically reappeared about an hour later. (Yes, I searched thoroughly. I swear they weren’t there!) 

Then there was the time I smelled an unusual smell but couldn’t pinpoint its source. That experience morphed into my previously self-published middle-grade novel The Nasal Psychic, about a boy who discovers he can smell scents from the future. 

Once when I was driving home from work, I heard a commercial on the radio that said, “Cancer is smart, but we’re smarter.” That got me thinking. What if cancer really was smart—as in sentient? By the time I got home, I had a whole plot fleshed out in my head. It became my short story “There’s something in the sewers you need to know about,” which I posted on Reddit NoSleep. (The story didn’t get all that many views/up-votes, but I had fun popping in regularly to read the comments and see how it was doing.)

As for when inspiration strikes—it often happens when I’m power-walking. If I’m at home or at work, my brain is engaged in whatever task I’m performing. But when I’m outside walking, all my physical activity is on autopilot, so my mind is free to wander. Plus, the increased circulation to my brain really boosts my creative thinking ability. I get all kinds of ideas. Not just big ideas—little ones, too. Phrases come to me, snippets of poetic language that I save in a Word document for future use. A few months ago I won a Washington Post columnist’s annual haiku contest, thanks to a spark of inspiration that struck during one of my walks. Springtime blossoms were raining down on me, and the phrase “blossoms hopeful as bridal confetti” popped into my head. I shaped that thought into a haiku as I walked, never dreaming it would end up winning a contest!

In short, inspiration can come from anywhere at any time. You just have to keep all your senses open and be willing to look (and sniff!) in the right places.

Blurb for The Haunted Purse:


That old denim purse Libby Dawson bought at the thrift store isn’t your run-of-the-mill teenage tote. It’s a bag of secrets, imbued with supernatural powers. Strange items keep turning up inside, clues to a decades-old mystery only Libby can solve.

Filled with apprehension and yet intrigued by the mounting pile of evidence, Libby digs for the truth. And eventually finds it. But the story of the purse is darker than she imagined—and its next horrific chapter is going to be all about her.

Excerpt from The Haunted Purse:


“Do you think we should tell my mom about the purse?” asked Toni.  

“No,” I said. I wasn’t ready to trust an adult. Not even Toni’s mom, nice as she was. “Your mom is like you,” I added. “Practical. It would take a long time to convince her there’s something supernatural going on.”

We went back to watching the purse. There was a moment when I thought I saw it twitch, but that might have been my imagination. 

“You could always get rid of it,” Toni said. “You know, donate it back to the thrift store.”

I considered that. “I could. But I don’t want to—not yet, anyway. This purse is the coolest thing I’ve ever owned. I want to find out more about it. I want to see what it does next.”

 She moved her eyes from the purse long enough to glance at me. “Aren’t you afraid it’ll crawl into your bed some night and strangle you with its straps?”

“No. I think it’s trying to get my attention. It’s trying to tell me something.”

“Like what?”   

I didn’t have a clue.

Buy links:  Amazon  Barnes and Noble

Book trailer


Author Bio:

Kimberly Baer is an author and professional editor who was born and raised in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, a town marginally famous for having endured three major floods. She even lived there during one of them. She currently resides in Virginia, where she enjoys power-walking on days when it’s not too hot, too cold, too rainy, too snowy, or too windy. If forced to stay inside, she’s likely to end up binge-watching one of her favorite TV shows: Gilmore Girls, Breaking Bad, Friends, or The Office.


Kim has had her nose in a book practically since birth, and she decided early on that she wanted to be on the giving end of the reading experience as well as the receiving end. Her first story, written at age six, was about a baby chick that hatched out of a little girl’s Easter egg after somehow surviving the hard-boiling process. Her recent focus has been on writing middle-grade and young adult fiction.  


Author links:










Monday, September 21, 2020

Rosh Hashanah Dinner

We celebrated Rosh Hashanah virtually this past weekend. As usual, it was a little weird, which, I guess, grammatically, makes it normal?

Services were virtual. The Rabbi prerecorded the service, including congregant parts, and at the appropriate times on Friday night and Saturday morning, we clicked the link and watched the service.


While the services were different because of the method, there were definite advantages—my sofa is way more comfortable than the synagogue seats, as were the clothes I was able to wear since no one could see me. But I missed the community, the mix of voices around me joined in prayer, and the gravity of the holiday that can only truly be conveyed in the synagogue. However, everyone involved did an amazing job creating these services, and I’m looking forward to the Yom Kippur ones.


Traditionally, for Rosh Hashanah, we celebrate with my parents for a festive dinner the night of the first day of the holiday. It’s something I always look forward to, but this year, I was conflicted. I wanted to spend the holiday with them, but I didn’t want to do anything to possibly infect them. During the summer, we’ve spent time together inside, but the temperatures in New Jersey have dropped, and dinner out in the cold is not something any of us would enjoy.


So, we came up with a plan.


Let me tell you, preparing for a festive holiday meal takes planning and coordination. Preparing for a festive holiday meal during a pandemic ups the stakes significantly.


Anytime I have people coming over, I clean my house. Usually, I stick to the areas people will see. And I firmly believe that if you enter my house and complain about its cleanliness, you become my personal maid and are responsible for raising it to your standards. 


However, in a pandemic, cleaning takes on a whole new meaning. I don’t think there was a corner or surface that I didn’t scour. I forbid my husband from using the downstairs bathroom, even going so far as to block the door with his desk chair. He suggested I just put a Post-It note on the door, but I wasn’t taking any chances.


There were four of us for dinner, but in order to maintain the six feet of social distance, we added both a bridge table and a table leaf to my dining room table, set up the chairs so that my parents faced each other on one end, and my husband and I faced each other on the opposite end. We gave ourselves the bridge table—I’m never outgrowing the kids’ table, apparently. Instead of setting the table, we put everything out buffet style on the counter.


Usually, when people enter my house, they are free to roam and make themselves comfortable. My mom always helps me in the kitchen. This time, they were instructed to keep their masks on, to sit on a specific sofa, and not to move under any circumstances. 


We all wore masks the entire time, unless we were eating. We did not spend extra time chitchatting or hanging out. We were careful not to get our germs on their food. And no matter how often my mom asked, I did not let her help with setting, clearing, or cleaning up.


I’ve never been more stressed over a meal in my life. But the hug (done masked and while holding my breath) at the end was worth it.


Don't forget, I have a book releasing next week! Eight days and counting until Whispers in Washington releases. Info here.

Monday, September 14, 2020

A Quick Getaway

 My husband and I spent the weekend in Cape May with friends. It was our first time venturing out by choice—taking the girls to college doesn’t count—since the pandemic began, and we were careful and stayed in state.


New Jersey currently has a good handle on the virus, and our friends are as careful, if not more so, than we are. We investigated ahead of time all the precautions that were being taken, and only when we were confident did we agree to go.


But we were still nervous.


It’s strange taking a trip during a pandemic. Every outing requires advanced planning. We packed our own Covid bag with wipes, gloves, and Lysol spray. Entering the bed & breakfast—which had its own precautions that made us feel completely safe—we wiped down everything in our room and sprayed the heck out of it. Yes, the coughing that ensued probably freaked everyone else out, but we knew it was from the fumes. J


Unless we were in our bedrooms, we were masked. I regretted not feeling comfortable enough to hang out inside and explore the beautiful B&B, but they had a wonderfully wide front and side porch and it was lovely and relaxing to sit there and eat or people watch or just talk. It was great spending time with other people.



Walking around town was beautiful, with gorgeous architecture and summer flowers still in bloom. And everyone, or almost everyone, was masked. We found great restaurants that had outdoor seating, did some window shopping and had a lovely time on a whale-watching boat, despite not seeing any whales. We toured the lighthouse, temperature checks and all. And avoiding crowds of people isn’t as isolating when you’re with friends.



By the time we were ready to leave, we were way more relaxed about being out of our homes. My mind stopped its racing and I almost felt normal—well, as normal as I get.


Our friends still like us—I think—and we’re planning our next vacation, although this will probably be when the pandemic is over. It gives us something to look forward to, and in the meantime, it was a nice, safe, break.

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

Welcome, Darlene Deluca!

 Hi, Jennifer and friends! Thanks so much for having me today.


So I had my first book release with The Wild Rose Press a couple of weeks ago. And all of the promotion and festivities took place online. No book signings or in-person parties, thanks to Covid-19.

Ditto my real birthday festivities!

Coincidentally, my book released on my 60th birthday! It was a big milestone I had intended to celebrate in a big way! When I hit that 59-and-a-half mark, I cashed out a small IRA to fund my fun times – Girls trip with a few friends. Road trip with my mom who turns 80 next week. Writer’s conference in Hawaii, and a couple of weeks someplace warm and sunny when winter hit the Midwest.

Sigh. Not doing any of it!

I’m trying not to complain too much. I know I’m not alone. A lot of people have cancelled cruises and travel and weddings and have had to skip funerals and graduations.

I’m fortunate. No one in my family or friend group has contracted the coronavirus. I know some people who’ve had it and recovered, but thankfully, no deaths. I totally understand the need for lock-downs and masks and no crowds or events. Still, it makes me sad that the year is so out of whack.

And I’m sad to have to cancel all my plans. I’m to the age where I’m not looking to acquire more stuff. I want to dothings rather than buy things, so travel and spending time with friends are at the top of the list. 

Maybe next year. Hopefully by then, I can not only celebrate my birthday and my mom’s, but also celebrate a return to normalcy! That is something I could definitely get excited about!

I probably won’t have another book release, but that was kind of a lot to heap on one day in the universe, anyway. At least this way, I was able to give my full attention to launching the new book! It’s a heartwarming romance that features likeable characters and a happy ending. I hope it offers a little escape from the troubles of the world!

Happy reading and best wishes to all!



She sees a bestseller and heartwarming keepsake; he sees exploitation. 


Book Blurb: 

Her agent warned her not to get attached to a fan. But children's book author Kristen Hanover is about to break the rules. Kristen meets a young boy who is a victim of a tragic accident and is drawn into the heartbreaking situation.

Six years ago, Reed Armstrong never imagined he'd actually become guardian of his sister's boy. Now he is, and most days he's not sure he's up to the task.

When he and Dylan meet Kristen, Reed downplays his nephew's crush on the author. But as their lives become unexpectedly intertwined, he finds himself captivated as well. Trouble is, she sells stories for a living. Does she truly care about Dylan…and Reed, or is she using them for her own career advancement?



Book Excerpt:

Reed pulled his keys out of his pocket. In the doorway, he folded his arms and leaned against the casing. “Can I ask you a question?”

Chest pounding, Kristen forced a smile. “Of course.” She took a couple of steps toward him and braced a hand against the back of the sofa.

“Is writing your only reason for being here?”

Heavy, charged air closed around her. How to answer that? Honestly, of course, but…how honestly? “Well, writing is my goal for sure. But—” She glanced around the room before looking at him again. “I’d love to ride my horse, er, Star, and spend some time with…with people I like, too.”

As he pushed off from the door, a slow grin spread across his face. “Sounds like an excellent plan.” He sauntered closer. About a foot away, he stopped. “You’re good with dinner at the main house tonight? Don’t let Dylan bully you. You decide.”

She gave a shaky laugh. That was the plan, right? She couldn’t remember for sure. Her brain was going fuzzy. “I’d love to,” she managed to say.

He leaned closer, his breath warm on her cheek. She braced herself for a friendly peck, but when her eyes fluttered shut, his lips grazed hers. Hovered there, and when she thought her legs might give out, Reed caught her arm and pulled her slightly toward him, his lips covering hers again.

Sparks exploded in her brain, and she grabbed hold of his arm. All of her senses came alive and responded to the unexpected deluge.

A long moment later, he pulled back and brushed a thumb across her cheek. “See you in about an hour.”

Kristen could only nod. As soon as the door closed behind him, she collapsed against the sofa. She ran a finger along her bottom lip. That kiss…Oh, man. The chances of her getting any writing done this weekend just dropped from unlikely to who-said-anything-about-writing?

Buy links:






Author Bio:

Darlene Deluca writes contemporary romance and women’s fiction, and likes to explore relationships – what brings people together or keeps them apart. 

Her intent is to bring to life interesting characters that readers can relate to in real-life situations that combine a little fun, plenty of drama (with perhaps a tear or two), and big helpings of friendship, love and self-discovery, and will leave readers either cheering or sighing with a satisfied smile as they turn the final page.

The Kansas City author enjoys getting lost in a good story with a glass of tea, a bit of dark chocolate and a warm, sunny beach.



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Monday, September 7, 2020

Working From Home In The Age Of Corona

 We made it through our first full week as empty nesters in a pandemic, which means we have also survived the two of us working from home.


Good thing, since the husband is home until at least January—first it was June, then Labor Day, now January. I suspect it might get pushed back farther. 


We’ve divvied things up fairly well. He gets the office with the door, I get the rest of the house. I knock on the door and only enter if he answers. He starts talking to me and I ignore him until he goes away. J The highlight of his day is getting the mail, so I let him take over that job, especially when it rains. 


In all seriousness, it’s nice having someone around. I still use Facebook and Twitter as my water cooler, but now when I want to talk to an actual person, I can talk to him.


There are only a few habits I have to hide. Like talking to myself. I think it’s a sign of intelligence. He thinks it’s weird and distracting. Also pacing, which I do when I’m working out a plot point. He hasn’t actually complained about it, but I know it would bother the crap out of me if he were doing it, so I try to only do it when he’s in a closed-door meeting (that also makes it easier for me to sneak in steps for our weekly Fitbit challenge—shhh, don’t tell him).


All in all, I think we’ve adjusted fairly well. 


But we’ll see how week two goes.


* * *


Calling all readers! Have you read all your beach reads over the summer and looking for new books to dive into this month? We’re celebrating books from all genres at N. N. Light’s Book Heaven’s third annual Fall Into These Great Reads Bookathon. 47 books featured plus a chance to win one of the following:


Enter to win a $50 Amazon (US) or Barnes and Noble Gift Card

Enter to win a $50 Amazon (US) or Barnes and Noble Gift Card

Enter to win a $25 Amazon (US) or Barnes and Noble Gift Card

Enter to win a $15 Amazon (US) or Barnes and Noble Gift Card

Enter to win a $10 Amazon (US) or Barnes and Noble Gift Card


I’m thrilled to be a part of this event. You won’t want to miss it. Bookmark this event and tell your friends: