A few days ago I was trolling the interwebs looking for any tidbits about Rachel Gibson’s next book. (Yes, I know her last book only came out 2 months ago, but I’m impatient. Sue me.) So anyway, I visited her blog and happened upon a post where she defends herself, in general terms, against reader criticism of so-called mistakes she’s made in her hockey romances. Apparently she’s received a number of reader letters/emails regarding the subject.
Now, throughout the years I’ve read comments by readers in two camps: those who love her books because she gets the sport “right,” and those who’ve sworn off her books because she gets it “wrong.” I myself am in neither camp because although I love reading hockey romances, I haven’t the first clue about the sport itself. But her article got me wondering about how often readers write to an author to correct a real or perceived mistake.
Personally, I can recall a few instances where I complained on a reader blog or message board about some error or another an author made, and I remember at least one review I wrote where I criticized the author for a mistake. But I’ve never actually taken the time to write to an author directly with a complaint. Perhaps it’s because I’ve just never encountered a mistake I felt was so egregious to be worth the effort.
Or maybe I’m just lazy.
Either way, I’m curious about how many readers are out there who actually do write to an author, so I’ve come up with a simple yes/no poll for everyone. And if you wouldn’t mind sharing, I’d love to hear your comments about why you do or don’t.
– Katie Mack
This confession will probably give some of you a heart attack, but I haven’t read any of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. I know, I know. It’s like I’ve been living under a rock buried 3 miles below the surface of the Earth. But lately I’ve been thinking about giving the first book a try. So I sent out a half-joking tweet on the subject. To my surprise, I received a personal response from my local library letting me know that Outlander is available for checkout, should I so desire. Now granted, I’m kind of a dork, but I thought this was really cool. So cool, in fact, that I decided to explore more of the digital/virtual features my local library offers, and get the perspective of the Sacramento Public Library’s Digital Services Librarian Megan Wong on the subject of libraries in the digital age.
Last week on our message boards a discussion arose about category romances – specifically, whether or not one reads them and why. For those of you who don’t know, categories (a.k.a. “series romances”) are the shorter, usually numbered books released each month by Harlequin, Silhouette or Love Inspired(Steeple Hill) in the U.S., and Mills and Boon in the U.K. Currently, Harlequin publishes more than 2 dozen different category lines, and there are numerous obsolete lines in the publisher’s history. (Harlequin also publishes single-titles under the MIRA and HQN imprints.)
I love sports romances. Love, love, love them. The thrill of the game, the athletic prowess, the conflict, the romance, and the sex all make for a heady combination. Some of my all-time favorites include See Jane Score by Rachel Gibson, It Had to be You by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, The Man for Me by Gemma Bruce, and Body Check by Deirdre Martin.
If you’ve been reading Sports Romances for long enough, you’ve probably noticed that most fall into the same pattern: a hunky, wealthy pro-athlete is forced to contend with a determined woman. Conflict and true love ensues. I love this pattern, I really do, but sometimes I crave something a little different – something that isn’t usually found on the shelves of Romance.
Pamela and Vivi are the lucky winners of the ARC.
Thanks to everyone who entered!
Leslie Parrish is the alter ego of Leslie Kelly, a writer known for her light, humorous contemporaries. But you won’t be finding light fun with the new Black CATs trilogy by Parrish. Instead you’ll be getting dark, edgy, fantastic romantic suspense that readers and reviewers all over the web are buzzing about.
I almost didn’t start reading this series for a number of reasons. Chief among those was that I’d gone through a bout of bad and/or cheesy romantic suspense and I’d become quite cynical. But with the first book, Fade to Black, I couldn’t resist the idea of a heroine as a small town sheriff, so I took a chance—a chance that really paid off.
I loved the second book, Pitch Black, even more, and when I finished that one I was literally buzzing with excitement. Couldn’t-sleep-excited. Must-find-out-what-happens-excited. If Black at Heart had already been released, I would have driven immediately to the bookstore to buy it. At 10:00 at night. In my pajamas. I was (and still am) that excited.
When I’m reading a contemporary romance of the non-paranormal variety, I read with the expectation that the characters in the book are living in the same world that readers live in. With many books this isn’t an issue, but occasionally I come across a book with a plot device or storyline where I’m left thinking, “Huh?”
If you’ve been reading romances for any length of time you’re likely familiar with the “Oops!” storyline. You know, the one where the hero and heroine are so overcome with desire that all rational thought disappears and they make mad passionate love – without protection. Afterward, the response is “Oops!”, followed by weeks of nail-biting while waiting to see if the heroine is preggers. That storyline.