Now What? Updates on the Publishing Journey

Last month I had BIG NEWS. BIG NEWS is exciting. It gets lots of shares and likes and newsletters sign ups. BIG NEWS brings flowers.

But after the BIG NEWS is the long slow grind of being a soon-to-be-published author. It’s a grind that I’ve craved and signed up for. But there are no flowers other than the emojis I attach to my Tweets as I sit at my desk in my yoga pants.

Here’s what I’ve been up to in the month since I announced that I signed a three-book deal with Carina Press and that my first book would be out in October:

Invited to read at Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC

I was thrilled (yes, I cried) to be asked to read from The Billionaire’s Prince at New York City’s only romance-centric reading salon. Reading in New York…yes, I will be wearing my beret. The event will be July 24, during the Romance Writer’s of America conference, and the incomparable Brenda Jackson will be the special guest. Pinch me. Then come watch me read.

Headshots

I’ve never worn fake lashes before. New photos coming soon!

Discussing new titles and series title

One of the cool things about having a signed contract is receiving official email from your publisher asking for stuff. Yes, obviously, the allure will fade, but as a person who’s wanted this for over a decade, it’s really cool right now.

I filled out sheets breaking down the particulars of the three books in the series – The Billionaire’s Prince, The Millionaire’s Rock Star, and The CEO’s Body Guard – and editorial is currently trying to save me from myself and come up with better names for the books and series. I LOVE The Billionaire’s Prince, but the other two titles are a little lame. If anyone else can come up with titles that represent the trope twisting of the books — the money belongs to the women — I’d love to hear it!

Turned in info for cover

It’s remarkable to watch this creation you brought to life while sitting alone at your computer being worked on by editorial, publicity, marketing, sales… Publishing professionals earn a bit of their paycheck working on these letters I strung together in a Word document. Weird. I sent a dense document about my image concepts for the book and I should see my cover by the end of April. You can check out their image inspirations here.

See more images that inspired The Billionaire’s Prince on Pinterest

Writing and editing

Among all the excitement is the continued day-to-day work. I spend the bulk of most weekdays until 1 p.m. writing the second book in the series. The Millionaire’s Rock Star is about Sofia de Esperanza– the sister in my first book – and the man who made her swear off love. It’s due to my editors in late summer. In the afternoons, I work on my editor’s requested edits for The Billionaire’s Prince. I also work on my book marketing and planning my book launch – which is probably when I feel most shaky about this endeavor I’ve started on.

But I marveled recently about how…content I’ve felt while the world news has been endless amounts of demoralizing yuck. I’m exercising again after a wicked bout of sciatica, my family is safe and healthy. But mostly, I think it’s because of the words. The words, when they come well and swiftly, provide a pillow of comfort. I’m literally doing with my life what I’ve always wanted to do.

Giving closing speech at Washington Romance Writer’s retreat

In a couple of weeks (eep!) I’ll be giving the closing inspirational speech at the Washington DC’s Romance Writer’s Retreat, “In the Company of Writers.” I’ve been going to this writer’s retreat since 2003 and it means a lot to me. It’s where I’ve made my best author friends. It’s where I met my agent. It’s where I got the encouragement to believe I could be a writer. And when I started going, Nora Roberts gave the closing speech!! It’s been a few years since she’d given it, but I still feel like I have some BIG shoes to fill.

With me luck!

---

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Gantz Family Vineyard: Where "Lush Money" Was Born

Gantz Family Vineyards, the inspiration for “Lush Money”

My mother and stepfather did the craziest thing in 2009. They bought a vineyard. Or rather, they bought land with the intention of planting a vineyard.

I was OPPOSED! They had this awesome house on the beach south of San Francisco and why in the world would they want to move away from the city and farm? I didn’t get it, I didn't want to get it.

And then…I fell in love with it.

They asked me to set up a website and social media for their newly christened vineyard, Gantz Family Vineyards, and by some weird happenstance, I realized that I liked doing more than drinking wine. I liked learning about wine growing and winemaking. I liked tracking the evolution of our little vineyard. I liked being a minuscule part of this story about fruit being grown from soil and sold to one of the most prominent Pinot Noir winemakers in the United States. I liked helping my stepdad in our small, personal winery.

And honestly, who’s going to be the butthead that resists going here for family vacations?

Gantz Family Vineyards grows fruit in the Russian River Valley, Sonoma County, California

We grow 4.5 acres of Pinot Noir

Clay and Celeste Gantz

My parents named the blocks after the grandkids.

So it was with true good fortune that I was there in 2015 when the idea of Lush Money—What if the billionaire was a woman?—came to me. As I searched for a profession for my struggling prince, I looked up from my phone and saw the sunlit vineyards. Suddenly, my prince was a world-renown viticulturist (vine scientist) with a kingdom of struggling vineyards. Suddenly, I had a self-made billionaire businesswoman and a prince with his hands in the dirt.

It was simple and complex and delightful and a way to honor this crazy thing my parents had created.

Last week, I had the supreme luck to announce the sale of The Billionaire’s Prince (now called Lush Money) to Carina Press while visiting my parents at Gantz Family Vineyards. I was taking a UC Davis class for growers with my stepdad, being taught by the same academics who would have been friends with my prince. It was all a little surreal and dreamlike.

Kind of like being a midwestern girl who suddenly finds a California vineyard plopping into her lap in her 30s. Thanks so much for the opportunity, Mom and Clay! Even if I was a bit of a butt about it in the beginning…

Want to be notified when Lush Money is available?

I'm Going to be Published!!!!

The Billionaire’s Prince, an enemy-to-lovers tale about a billionaire businesswoman, coming Fall 2019.

Writing is always that thing I could do. Other people are good with numbers or can hit a three-point shot or can tie a scarf and instantly look Parisian. I could write. It was my thing.

In the fourth grade I told my mom I wanted to write but — a pragmatic little Virgo — I was afraid I wouldn’t make a living at it. She suggested that I pursue journalism.

So I did. I got a journalism degree at a fantastic university and went on to work for an incredible paper. Journalism forced me to write quick and with impact and — side note — it also was how I met my husband. So, bonus! I’ll never regret the side trip into journalism.

But now, after writing “arthur” when the kindergarten teacher asked what we wanted to be when we grew up, after learning how to spell “author” and practicing at it pretty hard core for the last 18 years, after a whirlwind year of finishing a book and signing with agent extraordinaire Sara Megibow, it’s finally happened.

I’ve been signed. I have a publisher. My book — with a cover and a dedication and a price tag — will be available to purchase. And not just one book. I’ve signed a deal for three books.

I’m not crying. You’re crying.

My book, The Billionaire’s Prince (now called Lush Money), will be published fall 2019 with Carina Press. The Billionaire’s Prince is an enemy-to-lovers story about a billionaire businesswoman who makes a baby deal with a prince in muck boots. It’s outlandish. It’s a tiny little story about how hard we work to protect our hearts. It has winegrowing and greasy pizza eating. We travel from the top corner office of a San Francisco skyscraper to the vineyards of a village kingdom in Spain to a small town in Kansas.

I hope you fall a little in love with my billionaire and prince. I hope you get a little hot as they “work” on their baby deal.

Tee-hee.

You can keep up-to-date on what’s happening with The Billionaire’s Prince — and receive a free book — by signing up for my newsletter here. However, if you just want a reminder when The Billionaire’s Prince is available for purchase, you can sign up here.

Regardless, thank you. Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. Thank you for cheering me on as I’ve loved and hated this journey.

Thank you.

What I Did For My Christmas Vacation...

Check out my new fan fiction story on Wattpad

Click to read my new fanfiction story

I’m a huge fan of fanfiction and Wattpad, both which gave me back my joy of writing several years ago. During this holiday season, I decided to entertain myself by working on a fanfiction story about one of my favorite shows, Leverage.

Leverage is a fun Robin Hood-inspired heist show about a crew of bad-guys-gone-good who use their criminal skills to help those victimized by people in power. Starring Timothy Hutton as the Leverage crew mastermind, each episode brings together a hitter, grifter, hacker and thief. The hitter, Eliot Spencer played by actor Christian Kane (shown above), is a tough guy with a heart full of repentance. Joss Whedon fans might recognize him from Angel, where he played tortured attorney Lindsey McDonald. Or course, my story HAD to be about him.

Here’s the summary:

It's not Eliot's fault that the lady keeps showing up at their Boston pub to stare at him with admiring eyes. But she's scaring away Leverage's justifiably nervous clients and Nate has had it -- it's not Eliot's fault, but now it's Eliot's responsibility to get rid of her. What should he do when the lady he's trying to dissuade becomes the woman he wants to put his hands on? And then what should he do when she becomes Leverage's newest client?

My attempt at giving Eliot a Happily Ever After...

The story isn’t complete — the fun part of Wattpad is writing serially and posting regularly. I’m posting every Tuesday and Friday. And a big part of the story is done. Hope you like it!

A preview…

You Know Better, Babe, Than To Look At Me Like That

by Angelina M. Lopez

"You're going to have to go talk to her," Nate said matter-of-factly as he raised the rocks glass to his lips.

Although there were several women in the lowlit Boston pub, the whole Leverage team knew who Nate was talking about.

Eliot scowled. "Why do I have to talk to her?"

Nate didn't raise his eyes from the golden liquid in the glass. "She's scaring away our clients."

Eliot jabbed his finger at the longhaired blond smiling at him from across the table. "Then make Parker do it. Parker's crazy will drive anyone away."

"I like her," Parker chirped back. "She stares at Eliot the way I stared at the Hope Diamond."

"She's right, man," Hardison said, leaning back in his chair with his shit-eating grin. "She gives you the same look I gave my Nana's cooking."

"Hardison..." Eliot growled as he glared at the whiz kid.

"Look, Eliot," Sophie said, laying her hands in the middle of the table to draw everyone's attention. "We can't afford to have her staring at us every time you're in the bar. The people who come to us are already living in fear. No matter how innocent she looks, the intensity of her gaze is too ... intense. Our clients can't help but notice."

Eliot clenched his lips against his teeth. "Would you do it?" He gritted his teeth. "Please."

Sophie tsked. "And humiliate the poor woman. Never. What do you Americans like to say? 'Man up?' That's right. Man up and handle it." Sophie swirled her dark, pashmina shawl around her as she stood and gave Eliot a wink before she started for the door.

The other three -- the traitors -- stood as well. Parker and Hardison stopped beside his chair.

"Be nice," Parker said, worrying her lip.

"Yeah, man," Hardison said, the same worried look on his face. "Don't 'disappear' her or anything."

Eliot's mouth dropped open. "Who do you think I am?"

Hardison just shrugged and they both headed for the subterranian pub door without looking reassured.

Nate also stopped by his chair, swirling the last of the liquor in his glass. Eliot knew it would be refilled the instant Nate got to his apartment upstairs.

"Unlike those two, I don't care how you get rid of her," Nate said without taking his eyes off the glass.

Eliot huffed. "She's just a lonely lady at the bar."

"Maybe," Nate's eyes finally met Eliot's. "But she's getting in the way of us doing our job and no one's going to get in the way of me doing that."

"Us."

"Hm?"

Eliot's dark eyebrows lowered. "No one's going to get in the way of us doing our job."

"Right," Nate said without inflection. He lowered his glass and dropped his shoulders. "Screw her, kill her, make her cry. I don't care. Just take care of her."

Eliot lowered his eyes to his hands, white-knuckle fisted against the table to prevent them from knocking his boss in the mouth. Nate was on a downward trajectory again, leaning on the drink as an excuse, giving the alcohol room to make him an asshole. He was going to have to be dealt with, sooner than later if Eliot had anything had to say about it.

But the man wasn't wrong.

Even now, with his back to her, Eliot could feel the woman's eyes on him. She had a way of doing that, making him aware of her although she'd been the one who'd started it all with her long, absorbed, unashamed looks. She didn't do it all the time -- that would have given him the creeps. But even if she only looked at him 3 or 4 times while they were both in the bar, the looks were always so unabashedly fascinated that Eliot felt the glow of them. They were like a warm medal against his skin.

She was a funny little thing. She'd shown up that first night a month-and-a-half ago, swathed against the Boston winter in an oversized anorak and sweater, baggy jeans and snow boots. Only her coat had come off as she sat at the bar and drank her bourbon neat, pulling down her hand-knitted scarf to take sips out of her glass as her dark brown eyes widened then watched Eliot play darts across the room. Being aware of his surroundings -- and every person in it -- was Eliot's job. And he was aware of the way she watched him like he was her favorite recreation.

But he didn't approach her like he'd approached the other women who'd watched him at that bar with hungry eyes. She wasn't his type. Her nose was a touch too long, her eyebrows a bit too dark and too much of a contrast with her red-brown-blond hair. Her hair was long, but it was always a mass of kinks and curls barely restrained in a thick braid or crazy bun. It felt like one touch and that hair would spring out and hurt somebody. She was small, shorter than him, and Eliot couldn't imagine she was hiding much behind the layers of sweaters and flannel shirts and scarves and oversized pants she always wore.

He hadn't realized he was looking forward to warmer weather.

But this had to end. Now. The last two clients had, unfortunately, picked up on the woman's constant gazes over at their table. Sophie was right. Her interest was too strong for the two people -- a woman who'd recently lost her husband because of toxic paint he'd been forced to work with; and an accountant who was terrified of being caught as the whistleblower against a local casino -- not to notice. They'd both left terrified, certain they were being watched. Nate and Sophie were still trying to convince the accountant to let their crew help.

Eliot stood and kicked back his seat before he could lose his nerve. He was a total fucking coward when it came to letting down women. In the past, he could have just drummed up a trip to a third-world country to get him out of a fix. But now, because of the people who needed Leverage, because of Nate and Sophie and Parker and, yes, even Hardison, he had to stick. And it looked like the lady wasn't giving up sipping her two bourbons, neat, several times a week at the bar anytime soon.

Eliot turned around and felt more than saw her wide, chocolate-brown eyes move over him, just like he knew they would. When their eyes met, she smiled tentatively, sweetly.

He couldn't fault her mouth. It was full and wide and quick to grin at the bartender or someone asking if the seat next to her was free. Eliot usually liked women in makeup with paint on their lips. But her lips, plump and magenta, looked good naked.

Her eyes never faltered as Eliot started walking toward her.

And THAT was the other reason Eliot had never taken her up on what she'd been offering for the last month-and-a-half. Because the coyness and tease that was so much a part of the game with other women, the little glances and glimpses of skin and accidental brushes, was nowhere to be seen with this woman. She had no game. She looked at him with ease and steadiness, her eyes telling him that she enjoyed -- was even fascinated -- by what she saw.

With so many shadows in his life, there was something equally exhilarating and terrifying in the open wondering gaze that watched him as he approached. But all Eliot could offer women was his don't-give-a-damn grin, his suggestive eyes, his growly voice making promises, and a single night in his bed making them come true.

Which is why he came to this woman without a smile.

"Hi," he said as he leaned against the bar next to where she sat.

"Hello," she replied, her voice throaty and, to his surprise, touched with a British accent.

Eliot immediately turned to the bartender. "Brian, give her a Basil Hayden, neat, and I'll have a Guinness."

"You got it, Eliot."

Eliot turned back to face the woman. Her face was scrubbed clean and her hair was pulled back, barely restrained in a braid that had a fuzz of curlicues escaping down its length. She was wearing an old fisherman's sweater and she'd worried little holes in its cuffs where her thumbs poked through. "You haven't had your second drink yet, have you?"

She grinned softly. "No. How did you know?"

"You're not the only one keeping an eye on things."

When, for the first time, she dropped her eyes away from him and looked down at her lap, he regretted the grim expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," she said, poking her thumbs together in her lap. "I must seem very foolish."

She seemed very young. He figured she was near his age -- late 20s, early 30s. But her inexperience made him feel like her grandfather.

"Foolish? No," Eliot said despite himself. "I'm flattered."

She raised her eyes to look at him. He'd caused her dark brows to crease into a worried frown. Her nose, he realized, had a little ball at its tip. It was cute.

"You must know that I'd never expected you to come to me," she said. "It's simply...I enjoy the look of you. You're very soothing."

Eliot surprised himself with a laugh. He leaned his head back, felt his long hair slide away from his face. "I've been called a lot of things by women, sweetheart," he said to the ceiling. "But I've never been called soothin'."

She was like a lollipop at the doctor's office; something too sweet and tempting to resist, even though you knew there would be pain after you accepted it. Her straight shooting called to him, called for him to enjoy it even if he could only do so for the next few minutes before he destroyed her hopes and sent her away.

He put his forearm on the bar and slid it closer to her, dropped his head to look down at her. She smelled of jasmine and spice, more complex than he would have bet on. "What do you see when you're staring at me?"

A liar. A traitor. A bully. A thug, thief, assassin.

A murderer.

"I see a man who loves the people he's with." She didn't even stop to draw a breath before she started speaking, looking up at him, throaty accented words coming through soft lips. "There's a spark, a chemistry between the five of you. You're the family that everyone wants to be a part of. You hide your affection for them behind your gruffness, your glower. But then you give them one of your rare smiles, when you're beating your black friend at darts, when you're showing your blond friend how to drink whiskey. I see a painfully handsome man, a man who is confident in the two feet he plants on the ground and the shoulders that bear his burdens. You forget to wear your armor sometimes. I stare at you so much because I don't want to miss those moments."

As Eliot looked into her guileless brown eyes, he heard two drinks get plunked down near his elbow.

"Well..." he drawled, blinking to clear the warm haze from his brain. "That's a lot of plain talking from a woman I've never bought a drink for."

She smiled, pulled back from him. "It appears that is about to change."

As she reached for her drink, Eliot walked away two paces to grab an empty bar stool. He slipped it in beside her and took a seat, wrapping his hands around the cool glass of dark beer. The motions gave him a minute to think, to breathe.

The actions prevented him from wrapping that braid around his fist and reeling her in to discover whether she could possibly taste as sweet as she seemed.

Family. Leverage Inc., had become his family, but one he couldn't share with anyone else. He'd thought, often, about how much his Dad would like Nate. How the man would have stroked back the few hairs he had left for Sophie and charmed Parker with his magic tricks. But Eliot was too much of a coward to go knock on his own father's door, afraid that the door would still be locked against him. So this feeling he had of the togetherness, the rightness, of this crew and their mission was one he'd kept all to himself. Until this funny little lady pulled it out of his heart and showed it to him.

He lifted his beer and clinked it against the glass in her hand. "I'm Eliot."

"My name is Sabrina."

Eliot closed his eyes and drank, the cold liquid washing away the lilt of her name. Once again, he could feel her eyes on him. It made him aware of the 10 o'clock shadow on his jaw, the strands of hair catching in the stubble as he tilted his head back. Her eyes made him aware of his throat, moving as he swallowed the beer down.

He opened his eyes and looked at her with an incredulous huff of a laugh, met her easy and admiring eyes. She was making this damn hard. "What are you doing here, Sabrina?"

She shrugged her thin shoulders in that big sweater. "What is anyone doing in a bar, evening after evening, always by themselves? Seeking a little light and warmth and human interaction. We introverts like to depend on the kindness of strangers."

Of course she'd quote Tennessee Williams at him, his favorite fucking playwright.

"You seem like the kind of a woman who'd read at the bar," he said as he watched her sip her drink. "But you've never brought a book. You don't even look at your phone."

"I can pretend to be comfortable being all alone at home."

"Do you have a cat?"

She had to raise the back of her hand to her mouth to cover the sputter of laughter so soon after she'd taken a sip of bourbon. Her laughter behind her hand was effervescent, like pop bubbles bursting at the top of the glass.

"You have me pigeon-holed as a right proper spinster, don't you?" she asked, no offense in the eyes that sparkled at him.

He motioned to the hand -- the left hand -- over her mouth. "Well, you're single."

He was sorry to have mentioned it because when she lowered her hand back to the bar, a cloud had muted the delight on her face. "Yes, I suppose so." She rubbed her right thumb over her left ring finger. She rubbed like something had once sat there, but was now lost. "I'm a widow."

Eliot took deep breaths as he watched her stroke that phantom ring. Of course. How could he have missed the signs? Her need to be around people, her unwillingness to paint herself up for attention, the groundedness of her that let her sit there night after night without asking for a thing. The simple pleasure she took in looking at him. How did Sophie miss the signs? How did Nate?

He slid his arms, crossed on the bar, closer to her. "I'm real, real sorry," he said low, his head dipped toward her. He wanted to touch her. But he didn't.

"Yes, so am I," Sabrina said, raising her eyes from her hand to give him a soft, resolute smile. "It's been two years. I'm glad to say I'm doing better. He was a soldier. Were you a solider?"

Jesus. Of course. "Yes. Was he deployed?"

"No," she sighed heavily. "It was ludicrous, a Jeep accident at Fort Jackson where we were stationed. But it took forever to be sorted. They just recently sent the few personal effects that were on him. I haven't had the strength to open the envelope yet."

"What unit was he with?

Eliot would get Hardison to look up the incident report. Even with the standard grind of military bureaucracy, an automobile accident shouldn't take two years to get resolved. He could do this for her; make sure she didn't need him. Them. Make sure she didn't need Leverage Inc.

Because now, even more than before, he knew he couldn't get involved with her.

He looked up from his wrist on the bar, flexing against the wide leather band wrapped around it. "Sabrina, I gotta ask you a favor." He met her eyes. She was so open to him. "My team and I, we help people. I can't tell you too much. But sometimes, these people are being watched. Or followed. And when you look over at us a lot..."

She slowly raised her hands to her cheeks as they flushed pink. She had that complexion, what did they call it, English rose. All creamy and quick to blush. "Oh no," she gasped, her eyes wide pools of horror. "Oh, please forgive me."

He leaned closer to her, made a concerted effort to keep his hands on the bar. "Stop it. There's nothin' to forgive," he said, fast and low. "But if you're gonna keep coming here, you can't -- watch me. I'm sorry. I don't know how to put it any easier."

She hadn't lowered her hands from her cheeks. "It's fine; it's not your responsibility to manage me. Even though..." her hands covered her eyes with a groan, "...I've made it your responsibility. I'm so sorry. Please apologize for me to your friends. I hope I haven't hampered your efforts."

The grip he had on his biceps was going to leave marks. He wanted to reach for her. He wanted to erase the last minute and put that easy, open joy back on her face. "It's fine," he urged.

"No, it's not." She lowered her hands to her lap and, to Eliot's misery, revealed the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I will make myself absent. You won't have to worry about me again." She stood and grabbed her army green anorak off the stool.

Eliot stood as well, pushing back his infernal hair as it swung into his face. "Sit back down," he growled down at her. She was small. "You don't have to --"

"Yes, I do. I would never re-pay the pleasure you've given me by continuing to be a nuisance. And I would never be able to keep my eyes off of you." Her two fingers brushed his cheek as soft and warm as duckling feathers as those big dark eyes looked up at him. "Let me do this for you."

Her size made her quick, and she was around him before he could stop her, pulling on her coat when Eliot noticed something beneath her stool. It was her scarf; the knitted black-and-white one she always wore. He cursed as he shoved the stool out of the way to grab it and then straightened and turned to the door.

She was already gone and up the stairs. Out of sight.

"Goddammit," he swore at himself. Brilliant fucking job, Eliot. Break the heart of a mourning widow who likes the look of you because you remind her of her dead husband. Then make her cry and chase her out into a freezing winter night. Real class work.

He yelled across the bar for Brian to put the drinks on his tab and, gripping the scarf in his fist, sped for the door.

Click to read Chapter Two…

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A Free Romantic Short Story For You

The Phone Call

An original short story by Angelina M. Lopez

Sam was her husband's best friend and the man who got Rosemarie and her daughters through the worst two years of their lives. Now he was Rosemarie’s best friend, and he always picked up the phone when she called, no matter what, no matter when.

But when she calls him a few days before Valentine’s Day to ask for the one thing their friendship isn’t providing, will she destroy their relationship forever?

Click below to preview The Phone Call and sign up for my infrequent newsletter to get your free copy.

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Talking Romance At My Local Independent Book Store

Moderating the first Romance Roundtable at One More Page Books with authors Lori Ann Bailey, Mia Sosa, and Sharon Wray. Photo credit: One More Page Books.

I learned some amazing new facts last night when I moderated the first Romance Roundtable at our local independent book store, One More Page Books.

• Romance novels are contraband in high-risk maternity wards because they make a woman contract prematurely.

• Some well-known authors use the term “wood working” when having analytical discussions about sex scenes in their books while their children are around.

• Not even a depressing news day and rain can keep diehard romance fans away from a premier Romance Roundtable.

I was honored to be asked to moderate this panel featuring phenomenal romance writers Lori Ann Bailey (Scottish historical, the HIGHLAND PRIDE series), Mia Sosa (contemporary romance, PRETENDING HE’S MINE), and Sharon Wray (romantic suspense, the DEADLY FORCE series). Since it was the first of what we hope are many romance panels at One More Page Books, we decided to talk about everyone’s “origin” story — how they came to and started writing romance — as well provide some foundational info about the romance genre.

Yes, the writers all agreed, a guarantee of a “happily ever after” at the end of a romance was paramount.

Yes, romance novels were more important now than ever, with their visions of an aspirational world where women are admired for being bad assess and men understand that consent is sexy.

Some favorite tropes for the authors are enemies-to-lovers, brother’s best friend, marriage of convenience, and star-crossed lovers. Sigh.

And all the writers agreed that they set aside a time and a place, a drink (wine or coffee) and a playlist to write the steamy love scenes that are important to the tale of two adults falling in love.

One More Page Books established a new romance section days before the event (watch video here). I’m thrilled to be part of this movement supporting the romance genre here in my home town!

Book buyer Lelia Nebeker introducing the panel. Photo credit: Tara Kennedy

Event coordinator Rebecca Speas dances at the launch of the panel. Photo credit: One More Page Books

The panel. Photo credit: @mizzelle on Twitter

The panel. Photo credit: Harper Kincaid

The new romance section at One More Page Books. Photo credit: Angela Maria Hart

Come See Me in Boulder at My First Book Store Event

This whole author thing gets more and more real every day!

Never more real than when I see my name and picture alongside the likes of New York Times bestselling author Roni Loren and international best-selling author Tiffany Reisz.

On Wednesday, July 18, at 7:30 p.m., I will join these and three other romance writers -- Aliza Mann, L. Penelope, and Maggie Wells -- to take part in a Romance Authors Panel at the Boulder Book Store in Boulder, Colorado. The event was arranged by our spectacular agent, Sara Megibow, who will also be part of the panel.

It's $5 to attend, but you will receive a voucher worth $5 that you can use in the store. 

Come see us!

Learn More

I Have An Agent

I was going to come up with a clever headline. But there is no being clever when you've hit the biggest accomplishment of your adult professional life. I have no irony or sarcasm or wink, wink, nudge, nudge when I realize I've crossed the threshold from "I want to be a professional romance author," to "I AM a professional romance author."

Or, at least, Sara Megibow thinks I can be.

I met Sara in the spring of 2011 at the Washington Romance Writers' retreat, and we were super into each other. Unfortunately, she wasn't super into my book. She nailed what was wrong with it -- the dialogue was flat and stuffed with info. I wasn't ready. That summer, however, we chatted for a couple of minutes out on the tiny four-person balcony of NYC's famous Flatiron Building, where St. Martin's Press had its annual party. 

Every time I see a picture of that iconic building, I think of Sara.

This time around, she thinks I'm ready. I think I'm ready. Still, it's astonishing to me that another human being is going to hang their paycheck on the words I type at my desk in my pajamas. 

For her to believe in the words, the book, my present skills, and future ability is staggering. Mind-blowing. I'm still in the "pinch me" state. I know this honeymoon phase won't last forever, but damn, I'm going to enjoy while it lasts. Sara certainly helps, with her vibrant "WOO HOOOO" responses every time I get an email from her. Her woo-hoos make me feel like I can climb mountains.

I'm thrilled I've found someone who wants to climb with me.

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A Shout Out to My Arrow Fanfic in USA Today's "Happy Ever After"

Guess who was mentioned in USA Today's romance blog, "Happy Ever After?" THIS GIRL!

Denny S. Bryce, HEA columnist and romance author, first interviewed me in 2015 about my Arrow fanfiction story Desperately Seeking. I didn't realize at the time that it was her first interview for her inaugural blog about fanfiction. Three years later, she's revisiting her favorite stories and chose mine to lead her column. 

Excerpt from USA Today's "Happy Ever After" blog by Denny S. Bryce. Roxanne was my pen name.

I've known Denny for a few years now and she's a hardworking author as well as a generous soul -- she's given so much of her time and energy to our writers' organizations, the Washington Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America. I don't know what I did to fall under this woman's special light, but I will be eternally grateful.

I wrote Desperately Seeking after a three-year writing hiatus. This story and Wattpad helped re-ignite my love of writing; it gave me my creative soul back. So having this story recognized and praised this way is tremendously gratifying. And comes just when I need it. I'm currently riding the roller coaster of submitting my book to agents, having one agent tell me she loves the concept while another agent tells me my characters are unlikeable, and writing confidence is a shaky thing right now. 

Denny's praise of my story three years later helps me believe that all these hours I've spent at the keyboard aren't a waste of time.

Check it out.

Must-read fan fiction: Denny S. Bryce celebrates 3rd anniversary of fanfic recs with ‘Arrow,’ ‘Bones,’ ‘Farscape,’ ‘Firefly’ and ‘Scandal’

by Denny S. Bryce

Can you believe it? I’ve been hanging out here at Happy Ever After, sharing fan fiction recommendations since Feb. 18, 2015, people. That’s three years! And I still haven’t covered nearly as much fic as there is out there!

Now, you know, I do have some favorite genres I simply can’t back away from. You’ve seen my unabashed love of all things BtVS from my very first post. I also have a weakness for anything and everything sci-fi, or with vampires, and I like my fan fiction heroes superhuman, alien or Supernatural. (And yes, that was a shout-out to the boys!)

For this month’s column, I decided to do a throwback fan fiction post. So, I scoured a few of my early columns from 2015 and am sharing some of those recs, here again, this month.

Happy anniversary to me! (Click to keep reading...)

An Ode to Supportive Men

On Valentine's Day, my husband sent me flowers.

He didn't send them because it was Valentine's Day, which we'd celebrated the weekend before. He sent them because, earlier that day, I'd been on a roller coaster ride with a potential agent that ended in a confidence-shaking rejection. So my husband sent me flowers.

These, "You got this and I believe in you" flowers meant more to me than "I love you" flowers could.

This is a hard blog to frame. Woman have played the role of "supportive" for so long that it seems like it's written into the job requirement: cook dinners and rub feet and say uplifting things. So should men really get a bravo when they rise to the same standards? Yeah. First, because I believe in positive reinforcement. And second, because when both people in the equation are supportive, that's where the magic happens. 

Supportive Men Are Sexy

I thought my latest book, The Billionaire's Prince, was going to be about strong women. It derived from the concept: What if the billionaire CEO was a woman? I wanted my female lead to take control and ultimately be the person who swoops in to save the day. But since I write cisgendered, hetero romance novels, I needed the man to be "manly." I needed him to be sexy and strong, but in a way that didn't impede on my heroine's strength.

The book became an exploration of the behaviors of supportive men as much as it was about strong women. I realized that the way for him to be strong and sexy was to accept her strength as a matter of course, for him to lean into and on her strength, and ultimately that one of his strengths -- and one way that made him immensely sexy -- was how much he enjoyed hers.

Men, take note.

Supportive men are Active

Chris Pine in the role of Steve Trevor in the "Wonder Woman" movie did an astonishing job playing the role of the strong, sexy!!!! supportive man. It's easy to think of support as passive, a rah-rahing from the sidelines while the other person does all the work. But Pine is lockstep with our (yes, we've claimed her) Gal Gadot all the way. He's attracted to her, overwhelmed by her, worried for her. He pulls her back when she insults a general and marvels at her when she enjoys ice cream. But never once does he doubt her abilities. He's the one who tells his burly compatriots to place a platform on their backs so they can fling her into battle. 

Watching Chris Pine in that role gave me hope for the future of story telling. Watching Chris Pine in that role made me sad for how rare we see that type of man.

Supportive men are complicated

The movie "Hidden Figures" -- which tells the story of three African-American female mathematicians who helped the U.S. win the space race -- does an incredible job of exploring too many unknown stories. One piece I noticed was how the husbands reacted to their incredibly smart wives.

Aldis Hodge via Hopper Stone, SMPSP/20th Century Fox

Aldis Hodge plays the husband of Mary Jackson, NASA's first black female engineer. In the beginning of the movie, he is critical of his wife's efforts to be the first black woman in white-only classes. He is afraid for her. Ultimately, though, he supports her. Hodge says about his character: 

"He supported his wife — supported her in a very avant-garde way given the time frame. This is the '60s, so I loved what he represented and what they represented."

Support doesn't come instantly or easily. It's earned, learned, and taught. Even the character of Col. Jim Johnson, played by Mahershala Ali, missteps wildly in this awesome scene before he goes on to become the supportive husband of physicist and mathematician Katherine G. Johnson, played by Taraji P. Henson.

supportive men are rare

I've become a big fan of The Wicked Wallflowers Club podcast, which showcases big-name romance writers and explores why the genre is awesome. More than once, authors have mentioned how they don't feel supported by their partners or families, how their husbands don't "get" what they're doing.

This makes me sad. It also makes me deeply appreciate of what I have and reminds me not to take it for granted. My mom reads and comments on all my books on Wattpad. My brothers share my stories on their social media profiles.

But most importantly for the day-to-day Angelina who sits down and slaves at this writing thing every day, my husband believes in my writing every day. He's believed in every story, he's cheered on every query and request for full, and he's commiserated with every rejection. In December, when an agent asked for a full manuscript before I was quite ready, he spent a weekend editing it while I frantically wrote the end. 

He is not perfect in all things, and I wouldn't want him to be because that's waaaaay too much pressure. But in this, this active, sexy, and complicated support of my writing, he has been perfect. 

So while this is an ode to supportive men, I guess it's also a little bit of an ode to him.

Happy Valentine's Day, my love.