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Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited.

All rights reserved.

In October, 1987, I received a phone call from a close writer friend, Sally Hawkes, who still lives a little over twenty miles away from me. “I was just in the Waldenbooks close to my apartment,” she said excitedly. “Your book is on the shelf!”

Even though it was their bedtime and we had only an hour before the store closed, my husband and I bundled our two little girls (our son wasn’t born yet) into the car and drove that twenty-plus miles just to admire my very first book, a Harlequin Temptation entitled HERO IN DISGUISE, on display among the other books for sale that month. I had been ecstatic when I’d made that first sale, and had already sold two follow-up books (HERO FOR THE ASKING and HERO BY NATURE), and I had already received my author copies, but seeing the book there on the shelf with the other published authors finally made it sink in for me. I had achieved my lifelong goal of writing and publishing a novel. It was a thrilling moment for me — but a scary one, too. All those strangers would be reading my story. What if they didn’t like it? What if the reviews were bad? What if I never sold another book?

Twenty-one years and ninety-some-odd books later, those same feelings come over me whenever I visit a bookstore and see one of my titles on the shelf. There’s still the joy of having a career I love, and the hope that my stories will be well received. And there’s still a little of the fear. I make a firm habit never to seek out or read reviews (except good ones people send to me), but I know that not every book will appeal to every reader. Still, there is so much of myself invested in each story that it’s hard to open myself to criticism each time.

A few days ago, I received my copies of my upcoming February Silhouette Special Edition, THE TEXAN’S TENNESSEE ROMANCE. As I ripped into the box to examine the cover I hadn’t yet had a chance to see, I realized that I still get excited whenever one of those shipments arrive. I love adding that new title to the bookcase I bought just for my own books (it’s pictured on my bibliography page). And I still cross my fingers hoping my readers will enjoy my latest story.

Someone (hi, Heather!) told me recently that she was buying some of my titles for her new Kindle reader. That, too, is exciting — and scary. A new format, a new technology … as resistant as I am to change, it’s intriguing to be a part of publishing’s future. What other changes will we see in coming years? Will I be able to keep up? To change with the times? I’m certainly doing my best. I can’t imagine not telling more stories, no matter what form they’ll take in the future — paper, electronic readers, or a medium I can’t even imagine yet.

I’ll have four releases coming out in 2009. The first is THE TEXAN’S TENNESSEE ROMANCE. For those of you who’ve read my Family Found series, the hero is another Walker cousin — and you’ll find a few familiar characters in the story, even though the book stands on its own for new readers.

In June, I’m part of a Harlequin anthology entitled FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, along with bestselling authors Candace Camp and Allison Leigh. To celebrate Harlequin’s 60th anniversary, the three of us collaborated on connected stories about a couple celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary. My story, featuring that couple’s granddaughter and her military hero, is called ALWAYS THE GROOMSMAN.

In August, I’ll begin my new Silhouette Special Edition series, DOCTORS IN TRAINING, with a book entitled DIAGNOSIS: DADDY. I’ll tell you more about that series later.

And finally, to wrap up the year, I’ll have a Christmas story in the next Harlequin NASCAR holiday anthology. (I’m not sure of the title yet. I’ll let you know as soon as it’s finalized).

As each of these books arrives on the shelves, I’m sure I will experience the same excitement/nerves I always feel with a new release. And in the meantime, I’ve got more projects underway. I hope you’ll enjoy the stories I’ve written for you … and that you’ll let me know if you do. I love hearing from my readers.

There’s something about a new year. All that potential … all those possibilities. Maybe this will be the year to lose those extra pounds. To start and stick with an exercise program. To make a little extra money, meet a new friend, achieve a long-sought goal. To watch a favorite team win a championship. To make a dream come true.

Life isn’t really that much different than it was a few days ago — but there’s still something a little exciting about writing a new date for the first time, starting a new calendar, clearing away the last of the holiday decorations that marked the end of the year past. There’s something intriguing about a fresh start, a clean page, a new administration, the unseen other side of a tunnel. What lies ahead? What adventures await us? We hope the new year will be a good one.

I have several goals for the new year. Some I’ll be sharing with you in future posts. Others are just for myself. Not resolutions, exactly … but possibilities. Dreams.

Whatever lies ahead for each of you in 2009, I hope it will be a positive year for you. That you’ll find moments of joy, hours of contentment and days of delight. Good books, good friends, good times … and most of all, peace. It’s a journey we’ll be taking together … and I’m excited about what lies ahead. I’ll see you again soon.

Izzie and I would like to take this time to wish all our friends a merry Christmas and a safe and happy holiday season. During the hustle and bustle of the festivities, I hope you’ll find a quiet time to curl up in the sun, like Izzie, or in a warm, cozy spot with a good book.

I’m starting an exciting new series for Silhouette Special Edition after the holidays. I’ll tell you a little about it in a few days for a sneak preview.Thank you for visiting me here in my quiet corner, and I hope you’ll come back again soon.

(Photo taken by Courtney Wilkins)

I’ve been watching my world grow smaller all afternoon.

Even though I have an “official” office with a desk and computer hutch, I usually prefer to write in a chair in my den. I prop my feet on a footstool, rest my computer on a lap “wedge” I bought at an office supply store and set a cup of tea on the table nearby. Usually I wear headphones and listen to iTunes while I write. In the winter, I enjoy having a fire burning in the big brick fireplace right next to my chair.

I’ve tried to figure out why I prefer writing in the den rather than in my office. Recently another writer commented that she enjoys writing in coffee shops and outdoors more than at a desk because when she’s at her desk, she feels like she’s working. When she’s somewhere else, she’s creating. That really resonated with me, so I suppose it’s part of my subconscious reasoning, as well.

In my office, my back is to the window that looks out over our backyard. In the den, my chair faces a glass door that looks out past the patio and across a five-acre pasture. In the summer, my hummingbird feeder hangs directly in my line of vision from my chair, so I can watch the little ruby-throats zipping aggressively around the openings. All year, two bird seed feeders and a suet holder are within my sight, so I can watch such varieties as finches, sparrows, doves, cardinals, mockingbirds, bluebirds, juncos and woodpeckers either on the feeders, the tree branches or the ground below. I was thrilled one day to see a pair of rose-breasted grossbeaks on the feeder (birds not generally seen in this area). From my chair, I’ve seen deer, squirrels, rabbits, skunks (I’ve named one of them Pepe, because he visits so often), raccoons and even an occasional snake. All but the deer have ventured onto the patio and are fun to watch (I don’t mind either skunks or snakes as long as they’re on the other side of the glass door from me).

I spend a lot of time gazing out at that view, watching the seasons change, the leaves grow, turn and drop, sunny days, rainy days, rare snowy days. Watching cars pass by on the road on the other side of the pasture, C-130s fly over our property as they prepare to land at the nearby airbase. It’s my window to the world and I love the view.

Today, I’ve watched a thick gray fog creep across the pasture and toward my window. As it comes closer, the world behind it disappears. I can no longer see the houses in the distance, nor the road between us. It’s almost as if they no longer exist. The pasture is just a blur with the hazy outlines of winter-bare trees barely visible against the fog-gray sky. The trees in the photo above are gone now, completely enveloped by the dense cloud. Everything seems quieter than usual, as if the people and cars I usually see passing have retreated into their own warm caves to wait for the fog to lift.

It’s no wonder that fog and darkness have been featured so prominently in so many scary scenes in fiction. When our eyes can no longer see the features around us, our imagination kicks in. It’s all too easy to imagine bad guys or monsters or fantastic creatures lurking in that concealing fog rather than the deer and squirrels and rabbits I’d see on an average clear day. I hear a noise coming from the pasture, and my writer’s mind ascribes all sorts of improbable causes for that sound. And I don’t even write scary stories. I can imagine how Stephen King and Dean Koontz and others in their genres must be inspired by such imagery.

I love my window to the world. Especially since I am blessed to have a warm, comfortable home from which to view the wonders of nature. I read an article on-line only this afternoon about the homeless who, for whatever mental, emotional or financial reasons, have no such safe place for shelter, and how hard economic times have drastically reduced the assistance available for them and other charitable causes. It made me so grateful for the blessings I have received, and which I too often take for granted.

At this busy time of shopping, socializing and celebrating in our ever-smaller world, I encourage all my friends to remember the less fortunate  with donations of food, warm clothing and blankets, and any spare cash to the charities that are suffering through these difficult financial times. Even a little donation goes a long way for those who have nothing.

Back when I was in school, I had a couple of pen pals from other places. I don’t remember who they were or where they lived, or even where I got their names, though I think that might have been through school assignments. It was always fun to write about myself, then to receive letters in the mail. After a couple of letters, the pen pal relationship fizzled away. I loved writing even then, but it was difficult to maintain a friendship with someone I’d never met and who had never met me. I’ve heard of pen pals who maintained their correspondence for decades, but that never worked out for me.

After I became a published writer, I was delighted to receive letters from readers who had enjoyed my books and wanted to let me know. Though I tried to answer every letter I received, I couldn’t keep up a continuing correspondence with all of them. Even with my writing friends I met at conferences all around the country, it was difficult to find the time to keep in touch through the mail.

And then came the internet. As slow as I am to jump into the latest trends, I’ve become active on a couple of forums (fora, to be more formal), and I’ve made friends there. People I’ve never met, some of whom I know only by quirky screen names, but friends, nevertheless. When my mother became ill, my on-line friends sent prayers and cyber-hugs. And that gave me some comfort. When she passed away, they sent their sympathy. That, too, was consoling. In return, I’ve worried about their sick children, celebrated good news with them, grieved with them in bad times. My concern for them has been genuine.

On-line friends drift in and out of my life; some post for a while, then disappear, leaving me to wonder what happened, if they’re all right. Others I’ve been in contact with for several years; I know their names, where they live, a few things about their lives. I haven’t met them, but I consider them friends. Very good friends, in a few special cases.

I know the downsides of the internet. I’ve warned my children about being too trusting with people they “meet” on-line. People who may be far different in real life than they present themselves in the anonymity of cyberspace. People who have nefarious motives for making those virtual connections. I worry about the children who are stalked by predators, the vulnerable senior citizens taken in by financial scams, the lonely men and women victimized by heartless con artists. I’ve seen people who are close to me harmed by that very anonymity, others who let themselves be seduced by it to their own detriment. I’ve seen hateful, cruel and inexcusable comments made by — well, lowlife who hide behind false names while they display their ignorance, their intolerance, their viciousness. That’s why I tend to stay on sites that are well-moderated (sometimes maybe even over-moderated) and to be very careful who I “friend” on-line.

I warn the kids to remain on guard about what they post, reminding them that anything placed onto the internet remains there forever. I’ve heard the stories about people who lost jobs or were unable to run for public office or were turned down for exciting opportunities because of some foolish and indiscreet post they made while drunk or angry or just too young to consider future consequences. It took me a while to understand why they wanted to spend so much time “talking” to strangers. Second Life? Facebook? My Space? They all sounded very strange and slightly dangerous to this relic of an earlier, non-connected generation. Frankly, I worried about even starting a blog (I have this unfortunate tendency to babble, sometimes a bit injudiciously). But my connected kids (yes, I mean you, Kerry and Justin, and you both know how hard I resisted), convinced me to take a leap of faith.

Despite all my fears, I continue to believe stubbornly that most people are good. That the vast majority of those who enjoy interacting with other people from around the globe have only good intentions — wanting to share interests, to expand their horizons. I continue to enjoy the on-line friends who drift in and out of my interactions, each one enriching my life in some way.

Someone on one game I play asked where everyone was from; the answers have astonished me. I’m sharing my enjoyment of that game with people from all over the world – England, Ireland, Scotland, Iceland, Poland, Spain. All over the U.S. and Canada, and too many other places to remember at the moment. It’s just a little farming game, but it has the same appeal to all those other people as it does to me, reminding me of how much we all really have in common, despite our differences. Which reminds me that Harlequin books are published in over one hundred countries, over twenty languages, so that the stories my fellow authors and I tell are read and enjoyed all around the globe. Something else so many of us have in common.

Each day, this world grows a little smaller, a little more connected. Good and bad, decent and evil, and every shading in between. It still scares me a little — but it gives me hope, too.

Can we ever really have too many friends?