While doing research, I found this old picture of an Easter egg hunt and had to smile that people have held with traditions for generations.   The fact this was in sepia and the kids are fairly good-sized tells me this was in the early 1900s. 

Proof some things don’t change.  Or don’t change much. 

Easter is right around the corner.  For the first time in ages we are having good weather. (I’m almost afraid to admit it because our winter was just ugly!) Spring took forever getting here and she still seems a mite skittish about staying.

But we’re hopeful at last.

At any rate the cold weather has been “the gripe” at work forever it seems. Now it’s nice out with temps in the 70s and 80s during the day. It’s going to be nice all week. (If you can trust the weather forecasters.)

But there could be rain as early as Friday afternoon and into Saturday. If that happens, a lot of Easter egg hunt plans will need to be moved indoors. The gals at work groaned at the idea, for it messes up the fun tradition of hiding eggs in the lawn for the little kids to find.

Or like one of our nurses, hiding eggs for her college-age sons to find. Reminds me of that old photo I found. My co-worker’s version sounds more attack of the fittest, but seeing her smile as she describes her grown sons looking for eggs is proof it’s a treasured tradition.  

Maybe that’s what it’s all about.  I can certainly remember by Mom going all out with the Easter outfits, the big meal, the decorating of hard-boiled eggs to hiding baskets. She was good at surprising me with a basket when I was grown, just because. But Easter was also the “date” for Mom when she could wear white shoes. I laugh at this one now, but seriously she adhered to this old tradition or social mores thing.

So what about you? Do you keep with traditions for this christian holiday? What are your cherished favorite moments?

If you’re a reader of mine chances are you’ve noticed the something is missing in the Robyn DeHart library. I get mail about this at least once a week, the missing book of the Ladies’ Amateur Sleuth Society series. It’s one of those things that happens on occasion in publishing when you switch publishers, books fall through the cracks, series go unfinished and frankly it sucks. For both the readers and us writers. I for one would love to share Charlotte’s story with you. It’s a good one and I still hope (though perhaps naively) that someday that book will be published. But there’s no promising that will happen. I suppose I could do it myself through Kindle and offer an electronic only version, but what about those readers who never think to hop over to an author’s website or join their newsletter?

The identity of the Jack of Hearts has been the subject of many frantic emails from readers. I hear you and man, oh, man do I want to tell y’all. But what if? What if I do get to publish that book, then I’ve shared the big secret? Hmmm….perhaps it doesn’t matter much anymore. I don’t know. What do y’all think? I know that in the future when writing series I’ll be more careful about how I plot any series-wide mysteries so that I know how many books will be in the series. But I can tell you that in Charlotte’s book, Jack is our hero, but you already knew that. And there’s a marriage of convenience and a rollicking good mystery. Someday I hope to share it with all of you.

Have you ever read a series that didn’t quite end? That left you hanging and wanting more?

Be sure to hop on over to Fresh Fiction to enter my Spring Fever contest.

I love fighting. I do! I love it! In books, that is. I hate it in real life…one of those people who really hates confrontation. Only as a defender of children am I fearless. I have been known to come onto the school bus to address a bully, even when the kid being tormented isn’t mine, and say something along the lines of, “I know where you live. You keep this up, you answer to me.” Otherwise…I’m a complete wimp. I hate having people angry with me. Hate it! Growing up, I was the peace-keeping middle child in my family. Most of the time, I served as ref, not a contender. McIrish and I may irritate each other occasionally, but we rarely get angry. And when we do, I can’t stand it! Our fights tend to last about 80 seconds.

But I love fighting in books. Lots of romance readers enjoy the steamy parts of the story…for me, it’s the snark, sarcasm and unexpected left hook that brings it. Uh-huh! That’s right! To me, there’s nothing as fun or satisfying as that verbal back and forth when the hero and heroine are mad at each other. An occasional slap is also fine (as long as he’s the one getting slapped). One liners, zingers, ripping off the scab of the old wounds — yes, baby! Bring it on!

And so, in absolutely no order, here are my favorite parts of romance novel fighting.

1. Snarky put-downs.
2. Edgy dancing-around-attraction bickering.  
3. Passionate yet angry declarations, such as “You wounded me/gutted me/ruined me for all other women.” Frooowww!
4. Bickering about something when you’re really bickering about something else. “I don’t care for sugar in my tea, Edmund.”
   “I know exactly  how you take your tea, Drusilla!”
   “Perhaps once you could sugar my tea, Edmund, but those days are long past!”
5. And the final entry…Storming Out of the Bedroom. Yes! Oh, I love that! Slam the door on your way out, please! Bam! Yes! Now we’re cooking with gas, as the saying goes.

So how about it, gang? Anyone have any particularly rewarding fights from a romance novel? Crusie? Lindsey? Quinn? Do you love those scenes the way I do?

This week I saw my April release, The Doctor’s Baby, on the shelves at our local Borders. I have to admit that even though this is my twenty-fourth book it is still a thrill..even more so because this is the first book I ever wrote.

Confused? I’ll explain. When I first started writing, my first book written as an adult was a book I called “Somebody’s Baby.” I submitted it to Silhouette Special Edition and they responded by saying, “start it when she’s giving birth” and send it back. I never did because…the giving birth scene was 2/3 of the way through the book! But this story idea stuck with me. This book doesn’t bear all that much resemblance to the first book. Still, in some ways, I feel like that book has finally found its time.

Have you ever had an idea or tried to learn something, but the time wasn’t right? Then you returned to it (perhaps years later) and suddenly the timing was perfect?

If you’re a writer, I bet you’ve been asked, more than once, “Where do you get your ideas?” And if you’re a reader, maybe you’re reading our blog wondering, where do these authors get their ideas?

I can’t always say precisely where an idea came from. Once in awhile I hear something or see something that triggers an idea and a book comes from there. BLACKTHORNE’S BRIDE began this way. I heard a speaker tell a story about two couples who eloped to Gretna Green and the drunk anvil priest accidentally married the wrong couples.

But it’s rare for me to have such obvious inspiration. I couldn’t begin to say where the idea for WHEN DASHING MET DANGER, PRIDE AND PETTICOATS, or GOOD GROOM HUNTING generated.

I’m not exactly sure where the idea for THE MAKING OF A DUCHESS, my June release, came from either. But I have my suspicions.

When I was in high school, one of my favorite books was A TALE OF TWO CITIES. You’ve read it, right? If you hated it, or hated Dickens, please, please go get a copy and give it another try. Really. You’ll like it better now that you’re not 14. Not only did I love that book in high school, I ended up teaching it to sophomores for four years. It was then I learned to really appreciate the stylistic elements and Dickens’s skill as a writer.

But it was always the story that drew me—the bloody French Revolution, the father locked in a prison cell for almost eighteen years, the love triangle between Lucy, Charles Darnay, and Sydney Carton. I wanted to write a story with the backdrop of the French Revolution, and I wanted to write a story set in London and Paris.

I think when you read THE MAKING OF A DUCHESS you’ll see elements from A TALE OF TWO CITIES that inspired me.

What about you? Are there any books that inspired you?

Those of you who have read my books are probably looking at the title of this post and thinking, ‘But Kathryn, you’ve never written a Western.’ You’re right. I have never, ever, ever written a book with a cowboy character. Though, on closer inspection, I think I have written some heroes who were slightly cowboyish – most notably Devlin from For the First Time, but that’s not what this post is about.

The other night I watched the FX show ‘Justified‘ with the hubby. Justified is based on a short story by Elmore Leonard (Get Shorty). The star of the show is Timothy Olyphant (Deadwood) who plays Marshal Raylan Givens, a modern day cowboy with a not-quite-white hat and an old-fashioned sense of what is ‘justified.’ Raylan is sent back to his home state of Kentucky after shooting a criminal at a restaurant in Miami. The criminal drew on him first, a fact that Raylan mentions a couple of times in the pilot, and one which drives home just who this guy is.

During that first episode I turned to my husband and said, “See, this is why I like cowboys.” My husband said, “He’s not really a cowboy.” And I replied, “Yes he is. He’s a Clint Eastwood cowboy. He’s not out ‘rasslin’ cattle’ he’s broken and he’s out for justice and maybe a little redemption.” And that’s when I realized that as far as characters and archetypes go, I’m a sucker not only for the Smart-Ass, but I’m a sucker for the Lone Gun Man. If you happen to combine these two archetypes, say in the guise of Han Solo or Captain Mal Reynolds you will have my undying gratitude (even if you then go on to create JarJar Binks).

So here they are, without further adieu, My top 5 cowboys.

5. Raylan Givens: Yup, he’s made an impression already. Mama’s gone and Daddy’s a wretched, law-breaking piece of dirt. He can make a man stand down with a sincere I’ll-kill-ya stare, smile at the thought of fried chicken, and respectful of women. Plus, he’s deadly. I admire deadly. Toss in honorable and I start fanning myself like a can of beans over a campfire.

4. Josey Wales: A man who lost his wife and child to senseless violence, he seeks his own justice leaving ‘dead men wherever he goes’. How can you not feel for a man who has lost everything and turns into a hard, cold shell to protect himself? How can you not love those pretty blue eyes and the creases that surround them? And is it just me or does Hugh Jackman remind you a little of Clint? We need to get Hugh in a hat and six-shooter quick.

3. Han Solo: The orginal space cowboy. In his white shirt, vest and brown pants all he’s missing is a battered stetson. This charming smuggler does what he must to survive, putting himself first because he’s the only one he can trust. He’s slow to trust because people let you down, but when he gives his loyalty he never takes it back. He’s willing die — or at least be frozen in carbonite — for the people he loves.

2. Spike Spiegel: Okay, so technically he’s not real, but these are characters so I can add him. Spike is a futuristic bounty hunter who has lost the woman he loved and been betrayed by his best friend. Now he travels with his buddy Jett and comes and goes as he pleases, bringing in the bad guys and kicking intergalactic butt. Spike’s more of a fighter than a lover, but occasionally he meets a pretty miss who reminds him he still has a heart in his chest. Fans pined for a romance between him and Faye Valentine, but it never quite happened, still Cowboy Bebop remains my favorite anime EVER.

1. Mal Reynolds: Yes, another space cowboy. Cowboys cannot be contained to just one planet. Captain of the Firefly class ship Serenity, Mal fought for his home as a browncoat, losing almost every friend he had except for first mate Zoe. Now, he’s part of the rebellion, but unlike Han Solo, Mal deliberately gives the middle finger to authority. Always looking for a pay day, he’s loyal to those he trusts and won’t blink at shooting those he doesn’t. And true to his archetype he has a soft spot for fallen women — one in particular — who he keeps at arm’s length by being a jerk. Wouldn’t do for her to get her hands on his heart, now would it? Played to perfection by the wonderfully roguish Nathan Fillion, how can you not love this outlaw?

So there you have it, my top 5 cowboys. If you love cowboys I’d love to hear your favorites and why. Or, if you share my appreciation of one of the characters listed here, tell me why you adore that particular gunslinger.

One poster will receive an electronic advance copy of my next book, When Marrying a Scoundrel, the hero of which — Mr. Jack Friday — is a bit of a cowboy at heart.

The Weather: An Old (and New) England Obsession . . .

Miranda Neville lives in Vermont, but in her writing she reverts to the accents of her native England. Her second historical romance, The Wild Marquis, is now available from Avon. In the first of a series featuring Regency book collectors, she draws on her former experience working at Sotheby’s auction house. One commenter will win a signed copy of The Wild Marquis.

Spring has come early to New England, at least a month early. My Vermont garden is eerily free of snow and little green things are sprouting. Not that I’m allowed to enjoy this unnatural state of things. Old-timers gather in the Post Office and general store, muttering dire warnings of storms to come. These are the old Yankees, utterly stoic and laconic on most occasions. But when it comes to the weather they like drama.

“It was minus 18 at my house this morning,” one will boast. “Minus 22 at mine,” says his friend and rival. I refrain from suggesting they get their thermometers checked. Mine said minus 10, and so did the weather report on the radio. If the weather forecast says we should expect six inches of snow, in my experience we’re more likely to get two inches, max. But the old guys tell me to expect a foot, two feet, even.

I enjoy listening to the weather exaggerators, because they come from a tradition I know well. I grew up in old England and over there everyone talks about the weather. Admittedly there’s not much to inspire drama, but the cool, damp climate is a fruitful subject for moaning and complaining.

So imagine my shock when reading a section of an early manuscript to my critique partners. “You can’t do that!” they shriek. “Your hero and heroine have just had an emotionally fraught exchange and now they are talking about the weather.” I’m baffled. I’m writing about English people. English people will always retreat from an emotionally fraught exchange into a discussion about the weather. If, that is, they are unfortunate enough to have an emotionally fraught exchange.

This was a moment when I learned one can overdo realism in fiction. My characters no longer talk about the weather. But they do suffer from it. They get rained on, sleeted on, occasionally snowed on. They freeze in unheated bedrooms (good excuse for nooky). They get splashed with mud (homage to Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s petticoats). Because in the end I find I cannot entirely escape my roots.

Climate is destiny.

Do you like to talk about the weather or does it bore you silly? Do you like to read about the weather? (I’m really hoping the answer is yes, so I can return meteorological observations to my books). One answer will win the prize.

I have a serious weakness for cookies. They are my one absolute vice. I’m like a heroin addict. My drug of choice is actually chocolate chips cookies. I’m actually one of those people that prefers them raw, but about fifteen minutes out of the oven is a close second. But like the heroin addict who will do crack if nothing else is around, in a pinch, any cookies will do.

If the heroin’s addict first step to recovery is admitting they have a problem, then surely that’s true for a cookie monster, right? So here’s my embarrassing admission: Right now, I have three kinds of cookie dough in my freezer and twelve kinds of store bought cookies in the pantry. Twelve! Five of those are Girl Scout cookies. Let me clarify. I have five kinds of Girl Scout cookies. But a total of sixteen boxes. Seriously, it’s like I’m stockpiling for the apocalypse. And I don’t even have a Girl Scout in my immediate family.

I’ve recently joined Weight Watchers and decided it’s time to thin out the cookie supply in the pantry (and freezer). But I know I won’t be able to ditch the GS cookies. I just bought them! And they won’t be available next month. And … well, they just taste like childhood.

So what’s your favorite kind of Girl Scout cookie?

Saturday was the official first day of spring. Finally, here in Florida, we’re starting to see signs that the cold days of winter may be numbered. On Groundhog’s Day, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow and predicted six more weeks of winter — a phenomenon I’ve never understood. It has to be sunny for him to cast a shadow. So, a sunny day forecasts a longer winter? Huh. I don’t get it. Even so, the little guy was right. The entire U.S. has been experiencing record lows.  Even in Florida we’ve been 15 degrees below average temperatures.

But Saturday, was beautiful! We actually set out some flowers, went to a sidewalk art festival and ate dinner out on the patio. I’m itching for a beach day (or week) and I have an urge to throw open the windows and usher out old man winter.

How about you? How do you celebrate the vernal equinox? Do you have any spring-welcoming rituals?

Kirsten and Diana are the winners from my March 18 blog – “Nancy’s Fancies.”  Ladies, will you please e-mail your snail-mail addresses to nrobardsthompson@yahoo.com and I’ll get the books right out to you. Thanks so much for being a part of the Sisterhood of the Jaunty Quills Community!