Well, I finished a book and sent it into my editor. I’m sad.
I know, I know! I should be happy. And I am. Sort of. Just a little…lonely. I feel like my cool friends left me to go hang out with each other, and now I’m just sitting home alone on a Saturday night. Sigh.
This book was something I wanted to write for a long time, though I didn’t have any idea how to pull it off. One of the reasons I love historical romance is because of the arranged marriage trope. You didn’t have to know someone well to marry him back in the olden days. Today, obviously, people (well, most people, I think) marry for love. So how could I write a contemporary romance and work in an arranged marriage?
It took me about a year and a half to find a way to do it. The plot seemed pretty sound, but the characters…I don’t know. I’d never love a hero more than I loved Levi from THE BEST MAN, and speaking of that story, nothing would ever top it (this is the same thought I have every single time I write anything; I call it lastbook-itis, and while I’m aware of the fact that it’s a recurring theme, it doesn’t make it feel less true).
But then around page 200 of the first draft, I fell in love…with the hero, the heroine, the secondary characters, the doggy, the little house. I couldn’t wait to write, and in these
And now they ditched me, the wretches.
Off to go find chocolate.
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