"Romance?" you ask. "How can you have romance with all the rest of that going on?"
Believe me, I ask myself that question all the time.
See, I never started out writing humor. Trust me, if you ask anyone I went to school with if I was the class clown they'd laugh at you. Me? Funny?
So it was quite the surprise to see that my stories had more than a slight element of humor in them. I love getting the emails or reading reviews where the reader says that parts of my books had them laughing out loud. That makes me laugh. Because, really, I still have to sit back and shake my head at some of the stuff that comes out of my head.
How do I do it? The honest answer is, I have no idea. I've written and re-written this blog post over and over, trying to analyze it and I've realized that I better stop trying to analyze it. I was delving too deep into my own psyche and, really, it can be scary in there.
Seriously, though, you know the old adage, if it's not broken, don't fix it? Yep, pretty much the same for my writing.
I don't know why what I write is humorous, other than to say that I write the stories I like to read and in a way I find enjoyable. Before my editor offered me a contract, I had no idea if anyone else found the same things funny. When she called me and told me how much she enjoyed the story and had laughed while reading it, it was a "hallelujah!" moment. Someone else had the same screwy sense of humor I do!
Turns out there are a lot of us with this wacky sense of humor. I love getting the emails where readers quote their favorite lines to me. Besides being really nice to hear, it's also incredibly validating. So many times, we're alone, sitting in front of our computer screen, staring at that blinking cursor, wondering, "Okay, what's next?" We have no idea if it's any good/sad/funny/touching/terrorizing/romantic/etc. until someone reads it and lets us know.
Thank you for letting me know that you've enjoyed the first two books in the series, and I hope you enjoy Angel and Logan's story.
“Okay, Angel, I know all about needing to prove yourself. But do you have any qualifications for child care? References?”
Oh did she. Sadly, they were all Mer-related. “One of my degrees is in child studies.” Human child studies, to be precise, but she knew better than to make that distinction. “As for references, well, word would get back and that would defeat the purpose of not calling, wouldn’t it? But I do have them.”
“One of your degrees? How many do you have?”
Angel headed down the length of the dock to where Michael was impatiently waiting for them.
“Correct. Oh, and a minor in basket-weaving.”
He stopped and grabbed her arm again, laughing. “Basket-weaving?”
“Yes. What’s so funny about that?” This time she didn’t need a reason to yank her arm from his hand. She’d worked damn hard to get her degrees. That course had opened up a world of information about textiles and early Human craftsmanship. “It’s quite fascinating.” She shoved off with the right foot, toes providing momentum. Or was it the ball of the foot? Damn, he’d made her forget the biomechanics.
“If you find basket-weaving fascinating enough to study it, as well as have all the drive to earn all those other degrees, I might have you tutor Michael instead of babysitting him.” This time when he caught up to her, he didn’t put a hand on her, thank the gods.
“Tutor? I don’t think that would be—”
“Relax, Angel. I was only joking. Michael’s looking forward to hitting the books when school starts.”
Now it was her turn to stop him. “You hit books? Why?”
Logan’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve never heard that expression?”
Oh, fish. She really had to watch her step—all of them. She plastered a smile on her face. “Now who’s joking?”
“Touché. So, we’ll work out a schedule for your field study and my work. Sound good?”
It sounded more than good. It sounded perfect. “Yes. Thank you, Logan. I won’t let you and your wife down.”
“Rainbow? Michael’s mother?”
Logan rolled those brown eyes. “Rainbow, that is, Christine, is certainly not my wife, and if she hadn’t signed the birth certificate she pinned to Michael’s shirt before she took off, I’d be hard-pressed to call her his mother. Trust me, Angel, letting her down is the least of your worries.”
Michael stomped down the steps, his red sneakers flapping loudly on the planks. “Why do grown-ups always walk so slow? Rainbow never wants to hurry.”
Logan muttered something about Rainbow being in a hurry to get out of town, but low enough that Michael didn’t hear him.
Angel was sorry she had.
It was one thing to have to look at him clinically as a Human subject.
It was quite another to see him as a man.
© Judi Fennell, Sourcebooks Casablanca, 2010
And I hope you enjoy the genie series that releases in January 2011, with I Dream of Genies. But, never fear, as I've said to my editor, it's a big ocean out there, and Mariana and Pearl are already chatting up their stories to me, so I hope to get those written in the future.
About the Author
Judi Fennell is an award-winning author. Her romance novels have been finalists in Gather.com's First Chapters and First Chapters Romance contests, as well as the third American Title contest. She spends family vacations at the Jersey Shore, the setting for some of her paranormal romance series. She lives in suburban Philadelphia, PA. For More information, and a chance to win a romantic ocean getaway, visit www.judifennell.com.
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