Seriously. I totally am.
I fell in love with some viscount or duke or lord when I was eleven-ish, thanks to Barbara Cartland. He was beautiful and crabby but I adored him anyway. And when he whisked in to save the heroine, which I totally know he would, I swooned. (Actually, I didn’t. I have never swooned in my life – does this make me less of a lady?)
I could not wait for my first kiss. The earth would stand still. The heavens would part. My heart would pound in my ears and my lungs would ache with the need to breathe. And it would be perfection.
I didn’t give up. I moved on to Catherine Coulter. We were flying to the UK to visit friends. I’d forgotten my book at home and, since the flight was so long and I was a talker, my dad gave me $5 and pointed me toward the newsstand. There it was. Night Storm. sigh The cover was irresistible to a moony-eyed tween. Wind whipping through their hair, his and hers. Passionate expressions. Dipping necklines, his and hers. And seafoam crashing against the rocks. I was sold.
And as I began reading about Genny and Alec, I grew flushed. What was happening? The kiss was reserved for the last page, wasn’t it? I mean, there’d been an occasional brush of the hand before that, an awkward hug or hold but nothing like this. A kiss was the climax…
I had no idea how very wrong I was. It was enlightening. Empowering. And mind-boggling. Thank you Miss Coulter for beginning my education. When we landed in Heathrow I was a changed woman.
Now I knew kisses were prologues. Or first chapters.
After that, there was no stopping me. If there was a romance to be read, I did. I fell in love with countless heroes, across time and around the world, longing to be their heroine.
And then it happened. A hero popped up in my head. One that had a story I wanted to write. It was horrible of course, I think most first books are. But I finished it on my Brother word processor and printed it and stared at it in wonder. Before too long, I had another idea and another. I realized I loved writing romance almost as much as I love reading it. There’s nothing like starting a new books, that first page, the meet-cute, the first look, the first touch… Sigh. It takes me to my happy place.
Sometimes I almost feel a little guilty for being able to do something that gives me so much joy. And then I get over it and get back to writing.
About Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby: When Jessa Talbot’s boss offered her a promotion, she agreed—no questions asked. Her family needed the money, but fighting the attraction she feels for her brooding employer is tough. Worse, she instantly bonds with his infant son she’s caring for. But this is a temporary solution and she can’t get attached to either of them.
Finnegan Dean is cursed. He’s a nicely dressed monster, the wolf inside always looking for a way out. But there are two things he and his wolf agree on. They must protect baby Oscar and Jessa—his mate. While the wolf hungers to seal their bond, Finn fights the instinct. After all, if he really cares for her, he’d never doom her to the life he lives.
About Sasha Summers: Sasha grew up surrounded by books. Her passions have always been storytelling, romance, history, and travel. Her first play was written for her Girl Scout troupe. She’s been writing ever since. She loves getting lost in the worlds and characters she creates; even if she frequently forgets to run the dishwasher or wash socks when she’s doing so. Luckily, her four brilliant children and hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and supportive.