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When I woke this morning, I detected a nip in the air, an unmistakable drop in temperature heralding the approach of autumn.  Here in Colorado, that means getting the snow blower serviced, pulling out your down filled parka, and stocking the pantry with survival food (caramel chocolate bars, tortilla chips, and wine).  Unlike other places in the world, Colorado does not slip gently into that good season.    When the first cool breeze blows, snow is soon to follow. Rather than mourn the demise of bathing suit season, I made myself a pot of tea and toast with strawberry jam.  For me, tea and toast slathered with strawberry jam are inextricably linked with autumn. I blame it on Scotland.  Several years ago, my best friend nagged/bargained/convinced me to go on a three week tour of the United Kingdom with her.  I was the reluctant tourist.  Not because I loathe travel.  On the contrary.  J’adore travel!  But...

"Chick Lit is soooo last century." "Oh my god!  I know, right?" "They're all fashion, fun, and female empowerment." "Eww!  Who wants to read a novel about some sad woman stumbling through life in overpriced designer shoes?" I was standing in my local bookstore when I overheard the above conversation and I literally had to stop myself from raising my hand, jumping up and down, and crying , "Oo!  Me!  Me!  I want to read about a less-than-perfect woman balancing life, love, and lustful pursuits in a pair of fabulous Louboutins!” But then, I have always been the hot pink mini in the closet full of little black dresses.  Remember Joan Cusack’s bit part in the movie Sixteen Candles ?  The comically, awkward girl in the back brace, trying valiantly to take a sip from the water fountain.  Yeah, that’s me .  When everyone else was reading time travel romance, I was reading (and writing) historical fiction.  When everyone else was ...