Leah Braemel

Do you still read blogs?

As I’m doing a ton of background work to get my Carina books ready for re-release, I’m wondering if anyone would be interested in reading a blog again? Or is everyone over on TikTok these days?

For my own part, in addition to sending newsletters only for sales/new releases, I would like to go back to posting chit chat and background about the writing and publishing process here. Facebook is not reaching anybody unless it makes them money. Twitter can be far too dark and political that I need to stay off it most days. And to be honest, I do not see myself ever making a video for TikTok.

a large green stylized question mark on a white background

So…how do you keep in touch with your favourite authors and their news about sales and upcoming releases? Or just general chit chat? Would you be interested in reading posts here? (You can click to have them emailed to you if you want to follow that way.) Or would you prefer newsletters sent to you only if there’s a sale or new release? If you’re seeing this, let me know what you think.

I’m baaack

*taps microphone* Are you still here?

Wow, the last time I posted anything here was 2019! The world has changed a LOT since then, hasn’t it? Anyway, I’m still here, and hope to be more active in the coming years. I had to step away from writing for the last few years for various reasons, but some things just changed that are encouraging me to put a toe back into the publishing realm.

The big reason is because I just got the rights back to all my stories that were previously published with Harlequin’s Carina Press. The bad news is for the next few months, Texas Tangle, Tangled Past (and the Tangle bundle), both Grady Legacy books — Slow Ride Home and No Accounting for Cowboys, along with my Christmas novella I Need You for Christmas will not be available through your various digital vendors. That’s why you won’t find those books at any of your favourite online bookstores, and you may have noticed the links and covers have disappeared from this site. However, the good news is that they will be coming back–not only with brand new covers but I will also be able to make them available in print as well as digital, something that wasn’t possible with Carina.

And I have some more news to go along with that I will announce later, once I have a few more details and dates available.

Want to stay up to date with when they’re re-released, or released in paperback? Unfortunately because I’ve been quiet for so many years my mailing list has been wiped out and you’ll have to sign up for my newsletter again. You can sign up at the bottom of the website, by clicking on the menu and choosing “newsletter sign up” or jus click here.

Changes. Again.

After being away for a while, okay several years, some of the administrative details that I have been avoiding really needed to be taken care of. One of them is this website, another is moving my mailing list to a different system.

I started this website over on Blogspot back in 2007, two years before I was officially published. In 2010 when I moved to WordPress I transferred every single post over. And continued blogging. Now it’s become a bloated bundle of posts whose links lead to authors, publishers and book stores that no longer exist. So I’ve taken down all my posts and will be slowly going through ones that I feel might still be interesting, and deleting most others (like old sales notices.) In recreating the website, even though I imported the data, a lot of the links had to be remade by hand. I may have missed a few, so if you find any links that don’t lead anywhere, please don’t hesitate to let me know so I can fix it.

As for the newsletter, it doesn’t exist anymore. I’ve been gathering email addresses since 2008, since back in the heady “I have a new book published” days, so my newsletter list had become filled with email addresses that probably don’t exist anymore, or if they do, the people no longer wish to receive emails from me. Especially since I haven’t sent a newsletter out in years. So, I’ve stored the names and addresses from my old list, but I’ve not added them to the new newsletter company I’ve gone with (Mailerlite if anyone is interested). If I do come out with a new book, which I would still like to do, you’d have to sign up again. You can now if you want, nothing will happen with it unless I send out a newsletter. I still want to write, but … the publishing industry lately is not in good shape IMHO and it’s too difficult to get my books seen on Amazon these days that I’ve lost heart in the time involved.

But I’m still here, and the website will be here for three more years. And if you’re at all interested in the other going on in my life, check my crafting and life posts under my SinfullyKnotty identity on Instagram and on WordPress.

Fall in love with Sam (all over again)

PERSONAL PROTECTION, the second book in the Hauberk Protection series, returns in digital format today. If you haven’t read it yet, now’s your chance to read the book with the hero I’m asked about most when I get emails or when I meet readers at conferences. Sam first appeared in PRIVATE PROPERTY, where he realized Mark was in love with Jodi and also realized Mark needed a kick in the pants to open his eyes and admit it. When I first wrote that story, he was such a strong character I had a hard time not letting take over — he was demanding scenes in his own POV. But I managed to placate him by writing him his own story, and paired him up with Rosie, a woman who could kick his behind and then some.

If you have already read the original version, there are minor changes to this version. I’ve updated the technology (where is there a pay phone available these days?) but the story is the same. (I daren’t muck about with Sam or Rosie — my readers would revolt!)

Despite owning a security business, Sam Watson refuses protection for himself, even after receiving threats from a stalker. His second-in-command, however, isn’t willing to take no for an answer, and assigns Sam a security detail headed by none other than Rosalinda Ramos—Sam’s secret object of lust. As an employee, she’s strictly hands-off. Though, working so closely together, Sam isn’t sure how long he can resist.

A female in a male-dominated industry, Rosie has enough on her plate just proving her worth, so she keeps her attraction to Sam firmly in check. Until she learns he co-owns an exclusive sex club. While investigating the club as a possible source of the threat, Rosie discovers her own interest in certain sexual proclivities. Before long, it’s all bets off, and all hands-on, for Sam and Rosie.

But the couple will soon discover the real threat to Sam is much, much closer to home…and something from which Rosie may not be able to save him.

Excerpt

Thirty minutes later, a rhythmic noise had her peeking around the door. Wearing only a pair of shorts, Sam was working out on a rowing machine. His shoulder muscles rippled and his thighs bulged as he hauled on the pulley. Rosie stood in the doorway, entranced by a bead of sweat as it rolled down his forehead and slid down his neck.

The play of his muscles as he worked out made her imagine his chest flexing over her, his arms planted either side of her head. She’d dig her fingers into those broad shoulders, feel his strength as he held himself above her. When he drove into her, she’d wrap her legs about his, feel the power of his thighs as he whipped her into an orgasmic frenzy.

He’s your boss, her conscience hissed. She fled to the safety of the living room, wondering if she was fleeing Sam, or the strength of her desire.

You’re just horny, she reminded herself. It’s been almost a year since you’ve been with a guy and now you’ve got the man of your dreams at your fingertips. You’ve been on a starvation diet and he’s a delicious hunk of cherry chocolate cheesecake.

Forty minutes later the sounds changed and the whir of the treadmill started, followed by a regular thumping that gradually sped up as his feet pounded on the belt. An hour more had passed when she heard the shower turn on in his bathroom.

[pullquote]”…a vibrantly refreshing story that sizzles with a burning sensuality, all with a depth of emotions that will unlock the reader’s hidden desires…This is a delightful tale of deception and passion that is sure to stand the test of time.”~5 Hearts, Shannon, The Romance Studio[/pullquote]She found herself prowling along the floor-to-ceiling windows like a panther trapped in a cage. He’d be naked, those four showerheads in his expansive bathroom pounding his back with steady pulses of hot water. Water that would cascade over his chest, sluice down his belly and over his cock. A cock she wanted to—STOP IT!

When the water shut off, she turned her back to the room and pretended to focus on the lights of the city. But once he stepped into the room, the lights faded and all she could see was the reflection of Sam. Wearing only a pair of navy sweats and a towel wrapped around his neck, he prowled across the room to stand directly behind her. The broad expanse of his chest was still visible in his reflection for the top of her head barely cleared the base of his sternum.

“The view is beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly. Except he wasn’t looking at the panorama of the city, he was looking at her reflection.

“Y-yes.” It took every ounce of her willpower to continue facing the windows, not to turn into the chest that formed a wall at her back, not to touch the scar down the middle of his chest, or the star-shaped bullet wound just to the left and ask him about it. She’d once asked, but no one, not even Chad, would tell her the story of who’d put it there. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly.

Closing her eyes only made her awareness of him worse. It let her focus on the warmth that flowed from him, enveloping her in a comforting blanket. While he hadn’t put on any more of that wonderful cologne he wore, she was aware of a scent underneath the smell of the soap he’d used. Every man she ever met from now on would be compared to the man standing directly behind her.

Her breath left her in a whoosh when he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“You look like you’ve had a tough day, Ms. Ramos. You need to relax.”

Heck he didn’t even have to touch her, his voice alone could melt her bones and turn her into a puddle of goo at his feet. When his fingers massaged her shoulders, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“That’s it, Rosie. Just relax.”

Her breasts felt heavier, warmer, the fabric of her blouse tightened over her nipples longing to be touched by the fingers that caressed her neck.

The unique ringtone she’d assigned to Chad’s number interrupted her. Crap! How had she forgotten that she was not only Sam’s employee but his bodyguard?

Employee, not lover. Remember his type. Tall, lithe and beautiful. And if she added the news clippings and photos of his last girlfriend to the equation, rich.

She straightened her shoulders, and without looking at Sam’s reflection, took a half step sideways, unholstering her phone as she fled the kitchen. “Hey, Chad, what’s up?”

When she returned, she found Sam sprawled on the couch, one foot on the floor, the other propped up on the coffee table. He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here, Rosie, let me finish that backrub.”

“I’m here to protect you, Mr. Watson. Not to relax.”

His lips tilted up in a half smile that she knew so well. “You don’t mind if I relax though, do you?”

Something about the way he asked had her on alert. Nothing he said ever meant quite what she expected.

Snippet Saturday – Unashamed

Unashamed

Not only would it get her used to the idea of both of them touching her, but it would give him the freedom to take his time going down on her. Man, did he want to taste that sweetness between her thighs.

Max wrapped an arm around Hayley’s waist, his skin dark against the porcelain of hers. She twisted her head to look at him—there was an almost visible connection between them that Noah wanted to be part of. Love in Max’s eyes, and friendship and trust in Hayley’s.

Hayley twisted in Max’s arms, draped her arms around his neck, the length of her spine curving like a ballerina’s, her breasts pressing against Max’s chest, the two of them unaware of anything else, of him. Max caught Hayley’s mouth with his… Her soft sigh spoke of need and desire as her eyes fluttered closed. Max cupped her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple that peaked with the attention until she moaned and arched up. Only then did he capture one nipple between his teeth, tugging slightly, earning a sharp intake of breath.

Her eyes still closed, Hayley’s head fell back, the pins in her hair sparkling under the overhead lights.

Max was hard angles, muscles covered in tanned skin, made darker from the dark hair, especially over his chest, the cut of muscle sloping over his hips, the heavy erection bobbing from a nest at his groin were all angular compared to Hayley’s curves, from the plump breasts to the slope from her waist to her hip.

They were a living Vermeer, a study of light and dark, of smooth and hard, of beauty both masculine and feminine.

Unashamed: Out and About in TO

For those who have read (or will read–that’s you, right? RIGHT?) Unashamed, I thought I’d give you a little background on some of the terms and places mentioned in the story.

a book cover with a blonde woman between a dark-haired man wearing a white muscle shirt, and a light hair man wearing a black muscle shirt. There's a banner across their hips saying the title Unashamed. — Now available!

As I typed the title, I realized there’s another term to share — Torontonians seldom call Toronto by its actual name. They call it TO (as in Tee Oh), or Hogtown, or the “big smoke”, though that’s usually used by people who live outside of Toronto proper. Oh and when we do actually say Toronto, we seldom pronounce the second T. It usually comes out more like Toronno. And it’s not Toe-ronno, it’s more like Tor-ronno, with an emphasis on the ‘ron’. Unless we’re talking to a non-Canadian, or at the border. Then we slow down and say it with the second T.

Toronto has three million people living in it, but it’s part of two areas — the GTA (Greater Toronto Area–those are the suburbs/commuting areas–and extra three million live in the GTA, including me), and the Golden Horseshoe which is an area that starts just east of Toronto and curves west around Lake Ontario to Niagara Falls which is actually south of Toronto. Almost a quarter of Canada’s population lives in The Golden Horseshoe. So we’re a pretty populous area.

Toronto has been featured in a lot of movies and television shows, usually standing in for Chicago, or Virginia, or London even. If you watched Good Will Hunting — the scene where Matt and Minnie are trying on funny glasses etc? That was filmed in a store on Queen Street. The Silver Streak slams through Union Station in Toronto, not Chicago. Three Men and a Baby? Also Toronto. Let’s not forget My Big Fat Greek Wedding (I even mention the Danforth where a lot of that takes place.) Television shows, well, Flashpoint makes no bones about taking place in Toronto. Suits was also shot up here. We’re basically Hollywood North because Toronto can stand in for a lot of different time frames and locales.

Oh, and the clip of them arriving in Toronto in Canadian Bacon? It was filmed on the Leslie Street Spit, which means they had to actually drive through Toronto to get to that point, LOL.

Max and Noah live in an area east of downtown, usually referred to as the Beach or the Beaches. (Some people claim it should only be referred to as The Beach, others say the Beaches is correct. To-may-to, to-mah-to I guess.) Yup, there’s a big sand beach along Lake Ontario, and it’s currently a very trendy area to live. Think of DeGrassi high — it was placed in Leslieville, which borders on the Beaches. And Leslieville is where Hayley’s project house is. They’re older houses, usually Victorian through to the depression era, so they need lots of renovations. There’s a lot of reno going on as it’s an up-and-coming “place to live” in Toronto.

House prices in Toronto are crazy expensive, by the way. (Though not as bad as they are in Vancouver.)

We’re not talking a fancy house; we’re talking the average detached three bedroom house. Houses in the area where Max lives (The Beach) definitely cost in excess of a million five these days. Even if it probably needs an electrical upgrade, may or may not have a driveway, probably doesn’t have a garage. Don’t believe me? Take a look at this “unliveable” house that just sold a million dollars in exactly the same area where Max’s house is.

The entire drive over her stomach had flip-flopped as she’d wondered about…everything. The only thing she wasn’t questioning was her decision to have the threesome. Being with them both, at the same time, would be amazing—of that she was certain. And that she could trust them. Implicitly. Both for the pleasure they’d give her and their discretion.

Noah had hardly spoken until he pulled in front of a beautifully restored old Victorian two-storey house less than half a block from Lake Ontario. The porch light spilled a soft buttery light over the porch and across the yard, warming the old cedar trim of the house and the red brick sidewalk like a Welcome Home sign. While she knew he did good work and earned every cent he made, to be able to afford a house in The Beach much have cost him over a million dollars, and from the care this one spoke of, probably closer to one point five.

“This is yours?”

“No. It’s Max’s place — it used to be his grandparents’ but when they couldn’t look after it anymore, he couldn’t bear the thought of strangers living there, someone else cooking in his Nonna’s kitchen, so he bought it from them.”

He climbed out and rounded the truck to open her door. His hand was warm on the small of her back as he walked her up the front path. Not many guys still had those old fashioned manners which on its own would have made him high on Hayley’s list.

Tweaked your interest in reading more of Unashamed? Now you can buy it in both digital or paperback!

Unashamed: Robertson Screwdrivers–they’re a tool, not a drink

Considering so many of my books are set in a country I don’t live in, I loved being able to write one set right close to home. One I didn’t have to worry about whether the character says a phrase a certain way or not. But I also know Canadianisms can throw off some readers (I had a reviewer once refer to my “funky Canadian language” in a previous Canadian-set book). But to be true to the characters, I don’t feel right changing things up. I have tried to explain terms so readers can understand them.

So I figured I’d do a small series of posts about the various terms or places I mentioned in Unashamed.

On the very first page, Noah and Max are working on a kitchen in Hayley’s project house:

“Stop mackin’ on my woman and hand me the damned number two Robertson, will ya?”

“Hey, I saw her first.” Max handed Noah the green-handled screwdriver but found himself drawn back to watching the woman of both their dreams.

So Noah is asking Max for a square headed screwdriver. Robertsons are color-coded by size, and trades people refer to them by number. Orange (#00) is the smallest, then there’s yellow (#0), green (#1), red (#2) and black (#3) which is the biggest size. My hubby, who is not particularly handy, asks for the green one, where my son who is in the trades would ask for a #1 (which totally confuses poor hubby.)

Robertson Screwdriver https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P._L._Robertson also https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_screw_drives#Robertson http://www.robertsonscrew.com/index.html According to this article in the Globe and Mail, Robertsons account for less than 5% of screwdriver sales in the States, yet over 55% of screwdriver sales in Canada. According to people who use them, they’re better than Phillips. (I’ll leave that to my hubby and son to discuss. 😉 )

Then there’s a party that I had no idea was a very regional term until my beta readers clued me in.

Max folded his arms and parked one hip against the counter he’d just installed. “You’re frowning. You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s perfect. It’s just how I envisioned it. This place is going to end up with a bidding war.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

How did she word this so it wasn’t an obvious “I want to jump your bones” plea. Not that any guy she knew would object to that invitation, but this was Max and Noah. She wanted whatever could happen between either one of them to be more than a one and done. “I know it’s short notice but are either of you free tomorrow night?”

“Why? What’s doin’?” Noah mirrored Max’s pose.

“I have to go to a friend’s Jack and Jill party and I hate the thought of showing up alone. So I was wondering if either of you’d like to come with me. Be my date.”

A Jack and Jill party is a shower for both the bride and the groom to help raise funds to pay for their wedding or honeymoon. Sometimes they’re called stag and doe parties. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stag_and_doe Wiki says:

“In Canada, an event popular only in Manitoba or Ontario under various names to raise money for a couple who have not previously saved money for their future wedding plans or honeymoon. In Southern Ontario it may be called a stag and doe, or buck and doe, and in Northwestern Ontario it is called a shag. In Manitoba, this is often called a social or wedding social with less fundraising pressure than seen in Ontario”

There are even articles on the dos and don’ts for them. I may have let Max channel me a bit when I was writing what he thought of them.

For their first date, Hayley and Max attend the Jack and Jill party which is being held in the Distillery District. It’s a beautiful area that used to be a whisky distillery, hence the name. You can read more about it here on Wikipedia too. And you’ve probably seen it in a ton of movies and television shows too. Murdoch Mysteries, Road to Avonlea, Cinderella Man, The Recruit, and on and on, because it’s kept that Victorian era feel to it.

Don’t forget you can get your copy of Unashamed in ebook or paperback! Just click on the graphic below

Snippet Saturday – Her Honey-Do list is more fun than mine

Noah stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. This was a man comfortable with public displays of affection. His breath was warm when he leaned in to whisper, “You know Max would say you’re wearing that dress backward.”

Heads turned as she laughed. “He totally would.” She twisted in his arms to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad I’m with you tonight, Noah. I was afraid this would turn into a real drag.”

The air between them crackled with heat. His voice was husky as he replied, “I’m glad I’m here with you too.”

When the other couples joined the rest of the wedding party on the dance floor, Noah tilted his head toward the others. “Dance with me?”

Her body reacted when his thigh brushed hers, and again when his hand stroked her spine. Even despite the crowds around them, she wanted Noah to slip his hand lower, to have her whole body skin-to-skin against his.

The music switched to a semi-fast number. She however stayed dancing slow while Noah sped up and she stomped on his foot.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He stopped moving, while he left his arms around her, he tilted his head as if he were trying to see into her thoughts.

“Oh? What are you thinking about?” Though his lips had quirked into a smile, his eyes were serious. “Whether you’ll ask me to drive you back to your place? Or mine?”

It would be safer to answer “my place” but the temptation to throw caution aside and be swept away in passion between Noah and Max was overwhelming. But it could ruin your reputation. “I was thinking about…Sophia, that’s all.”

Chicken!

Noah made one of those masculine noises in the back of his throat that she found so sexy. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Are you sure you aren’t imagining the two of us in bed together? Or maybe the three of us?”

She stepped on his foot again. Thank heavens for the dim lighting that would hide her blush. Someone bumped into her—hard—giving her the perfect excuse to hurry off the dance floor. Noah caught her hand and led her past their table and continued on out of the library. He didn’t slow down until they were out of the castle and standing on the balcony overlooking the grounds where yet another wedding reception was taking place in the greenhouse. The evening was hot, the air filled with the scent of fresh cut grass and the masses of flowers filling the gardens.

As much as her body was down with the plan, her head took more convincing. What if they saw a threesome as a one-time event and once the night was finished, she’d never see them again? Or at least as nothing more than a business relationship. She could fall in love with them—either of them—both of them—so easily. While she didn’t give a crap what other people thought, she’d met Max’s family—his big noisy Italian Catholic family—and there was no way either the elder Morettis would look kindly on a woman who slept not only with her son but Noah at the same time. It would probably sour their acceptance of Noah too.

He placed his thumb beneath her chin and lifted it until she looked at him. “No pressure, okay? But we want you to think about it. Max and I both care for you. No one would ever learn about it from us, so your reputation will be safe in our hands. But I won’t deny we’ve talked about sharing you before this. That for the last week, I’ve gone to bed every night thinking about what it would be like to have you between us in my bed.”

Oh hell, now she had that image in her head, she’d never be able to get it out.

“You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?” He leaned closer, placing his lips against her ear. “You’re thinking about what it would be like to be stretched out on the bed, naked, kissing me while Max goes down on you. You’re thinking about what it would be like to alternate between our cocks while you blew us. How it would feel to wake up every morning sandwiched between us. To be the center of our world.”

She wanted to be that woman between them. She wanted the heat, the attention, the unrelenting pleasure they’d bring her. Damned straight she was picturing the three of them together.

The Hunks, Hammers and Happily Ever Afters bundle is available for pre-order and will release November 3rd.

Every day is Valentine’s Day

I know I’m supposed to be the romance writer, but underneath his shy/quiet exterior, my husband is even more romantic. We’ve never been big on celebrating Valentine’s Day — for some reason his bosses always seem to manage to schedule him to be on a trip or having to work overtime on Valentine’s Day. But it’s never really mattered to me. Because here in the Braemel household, life with Gizmo Guy means every day is Valentine’s Day. To prove it, for the next few days I’m going to repost a couple of letters he’s sent me and given me permission to share on my blog over the years. If you’ve been following me for a while, you may have seen them before, but they’re worth a repeat.

The first note he sent me was “I Slept with Leah Braemel” back on August 26, 2010. This one came out of the blue for our anniversary. I had no idea he was writing it or what it was when I opened his email, other than a murmured, “I thought you might like to put this up on your blog.” He got that right!

I Slept with Leah Braemel

By Mr. “Gizmo Guy” Braemel

I have for more years then either of us would like to admit, shared a bed with the famous Leah Braemel. And a house, two kids, and at times various animals – a budgie, a cockatiel, a wonderful lab-mix dog, and the current master of the house a tuxedo-cat named Spike. (Update: Spike has since crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but we’ve added Seamus, the shih tzu, and Turtle the cat to the household.)
Yes I am Mr. Braemel, or Gizmo Guy as I get referred to in these pages. I am Husband, sometime critique partner, research assistant (one of the perks), sounding wall, and firm supporter of Ms. Braemel.

The worlds and the words Ms. Braemel create are glorious, but perhaps I am coming from a biased view. I have watched her mature through the years, starting as a twenty-something young girl scribbling her words in small notebooks, hiding them from curious eyes.

Then she realized the characters in her mind demanded to be let loose, their stories had to be told. She was amazed when people actually read her early fan-fiction works – and demanded more.

You see I am a product of the Canadian Education system – although a graduate of community college in a technical field I had not read, for purely entertainment purposes, a novel until my mid twenties. I was a television junkie – the boob-tube was on twenty-three hours a day in the house I grew up in. Meals were consumed in front of it. Conversations took place over its din. My mother even managed to time her cat-naps around the commercials – waking herself up just in time to turn the sound back up.

So I was confused when Leah would disappear into another room for hours at a time ‘reading’. Why read when they will act it out in front of you – and you don’t have to think… A typical male I imagined I had done something wrong – that she was mad at me. I just didn’t understand.

Then one day I was in a used book store with Leah – did you know that some of the movies I watch on my glorious TV were books originally. Who Knew! Tom Clancy actually wrote ‘Red October’ as a book before it was made into a ‘blockbuster’ film.

And you know what – the book was better.

Well it was all downhill from there – Clancy, Steven Coonts, Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Series, along with the wildly popular Grisham novels amongst others. Piles of paperbacks grew in the bathroom (still my preferred place to read). I was hooked. This woman was a terrible influence on me. [Leah here–sorry, I can’t stop my editor’s red pen from breaking in — he actually started reading years before this, but he’s right, he was influenced by finding out a show was actually a book. The show and the book was James Clavell’s Shogun. Then he started bringing home books–even more than I did!]

But the people that wrote those stories, they were not mere mortals. They must be gods sent from the heavens to entertain us. Surely one of us could not ascend to such heights.

Then the magic happened. Leah scrunched up enough courage, and egged on by some close friends, to expose herself as openly as anyone can. She put herself out on display. She took one of those worlds that she created, and sent it off to one of those dreaded people – the Editor.

The rest is shall I say history. Three books out there being received well beyond her dreams. Accolades coming in from all sides.

I was sitting in my chair the other day, watching golf on my glorious TV (yeah I’m still hooked) when I noticed Leah smiling to herself. I inquired to find she was following two people talking on Twitter as they read her latest novel. It was like watching a little girl at Christmas. In the famous words of Sally Fields at the Oscars ‘They like me – they really like me’.

Leah – get used to it – you have talent. You have stories to tell. You have – dare I say it – fans!

I won’t say that living with a writer is always fun – many a night I have rolled over only to find the other side of the bed vacant – “the characters started talking to me… I had to let them work it out…” I think there is a very fine line sometimes between the creative and the insane…

But her influence has once again hit me. I put pen to paper (actually finger to keyboard) myself and wrote a comedic attempt at a very short story about a modern plight – the failure to launch syndrome. This was based mostly on our own home life – and the fact the two very grown children still lived in our house well past the norm. Sitting again in front of the TV with my laptop in my lap I read it over for the hundredth time. Finally I screwed up the courage and sent it in an email to Leah – who was sitting all of five feet away from me.

“What’s this,” Leah asked.

“Um, something I wrote…” I mumbled.

Between the tears and the laughter she gave me something that I will never forget – encouragement. “She liked it – she really liked it.” This woman has indeed been a terrible influence on me.

Leah – the twelve hour days – the constant research and work – the edits – the promotion – the endless novels, good and bad you read – are worth it. You have arrived. Your words and worlds are out there for all to see.

Congratulations – and know this – you are loved – and not just by your fans….

I still tear up when I read that. For those who might wonder about Gizmo’s stories, he’s written not only that novella, but two full length thrillers a la Tom Clancy — the second one of which had a plot twist that had my jaw dropping. Which made me wish he’d consider putting his work “out there” too because he has a flair for telling a story. But after watching some of the behind-the-scenes stuff I’ve gone through, he’s content with the status quo. Sort of like I was for almost fifty years.

For all those who sneer at romances and claim they set women up for unrealistic expectations, Gizmo Guy is proof that there are real heroes out there, and Happy Ever Afters can be found. After all, we’ve been married almost 37 years.

I’ll share another one of his love letters tomorrow…because as I said, Valentine’s Day in the Braemel household isn’t just on February 14th. It’s every day.

Love you, GG! You’ll always be my valentine.

A real love letter…

While I was running around from event to event in Kansas City, Gizmo Guy was left to fend for himself. Oh, he’d come with me to make sure I stayed sane–and properly fed. On Saturday when I rushed into the room to change outfits and lay down on the bed for a quick nap, he asked if I could read a Word document on my iPad. Once I assured him I could, he emailed a document entitled “Blog Fodder.” He is often in the habit of sending me dirty jokes or funny cat pictures to make me laugh, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but when I opened the document, I started to cry. Don’t let anyone ever tell you guys can’t write love letters. I may have added a few parentheses, but yes, these are all his own words…

For Leah:

The 35th wedding anniversary falls between the silver (25 years) and gold (50 years). Coral is the traditional anniversary gift (yeah right – try walking down to your local jewellers and ask to see the coral selection) although jade appears to have replaced it in the modern era (might be able to handle that.)

35 years have gone by in the blink of an eye. A baby boy, now in his late twenties, six foot tall and working as a certified electrician. A 2^nd boy now towering over both mother and father still living at home but itching to get out there and find his life.

For me work devoured the years. Twenty years in the mainframe computing field at a large bank – followed by a 2^nd career in the public sector. My life revolved around computer rooms and airports. It was a blur of projects and deadlines, technical diagrams and blueprints, industrial air conditioners and fast food. Thank God for Diet Coke (my caffeine of choice), Tums and Tylenol.

But there has been one constant through all those years, one thing that kept me sane and rooted and that was you Leah.

I’m sure there were years when you thought you were a single mom, raising two young boys and holding down a career of your own while I was off in (fill in the City here) doing God knows what. But I’d come home and find the boys healthy and happy, the house clean (ok – might be a bit of a stretch) and my bed warm and inviting (might be venturing into Leah’s written words here.)

How can you thank someone for giving you a life? For sharing theirs?

In good times and in bad. Sure there have been good times and bad, and a few down right awful times. But you pulled me through those and allowed me the luxury of time and patience. The time for my mind to come to grips with life, and your patience to put up with me while I did.

In Sickness and in Health. Those words spoken so fleetingly during our vows have taken on a much deeper meaning as we, dare I say it, approach middle age. In the words of the great philosopher Confucius ‘Getting old sucks’.

For Richer, for Poorer. Yeah well at least we have our health (see above.)

Until Death do us part. Let’s just hold off on that one for a while… Remember you promised that we both reach the age of ninety-two and just go to sleep after a night of amorous adventure….

As my career wanders off into its twilight years, Leah, you seem to have gotten your second wind.

I sit here tonight in a hotel room in Kansas City, not for one of my computer installs or work, but to be with you while you attend the Romantic Times Conference as a ‘Multi-Published Author.’ Let me say that again cause it sounds so nice, a ‘Multi-Published Author.’

As I write this you are up on the 40^th floor of the hotel wining and dining with editors and publishers as well as other authors.

There are stacks of postcards and bookmarks all over the hotel room – every flat surface is piled high. All swag to be given out to fans. Yes, I said the word fans. Some love your work so much they want to be a part of it, to have some involvement in the process, and have created a fan club and street team.

God, what a ride.

But they don’t know what I do. They never met the shy little girl scribbling in pencil in tiny journals the stories that were intended for no one else’s eyes.

Or the young woman writing fan fiction weaving Tolkien tales, and gaining a large following on the web.

No one else understands the courage you mustered to take your own work and send it out into the world. Well maybe there are a few hundred others in this hotel that have like stories. But your story is unique and I, like your Street Team, am glad to be allowed to be a part of it. I thank you for that.

And I thank you for the last 35 years. Here’s looking forward to the next 35.

I am supposed to be the romance writer, but I think Gizmo Guy got me beat today.

Happy Anniversary, Gizmo Guy. I love you.