Before landing at Soul Mate, I sent a past manuscript off to another publisher. It came back with the following comments: “Well-written, but not really a romance.”

After reading my latest novel, my fiancé put it down, turned to me, and said, “It’s weird and awesome, but it’s not a romance.”

Um, what? Of course my books are romances. I’ve been gulping down frothy, romantic yumminess since I was a pre-teen. Heck, I’ve probably read more romances than there are variations on the feisty-heroine-trapped-by-tragic-circumstances-into-a-marriage-she-doesn’t-(but-really-kinda-does)-want, romantic theme. Every stumble into a hero’s arms; every misunderstood interaction with an ex; every improbable, simultaneous orgasm: I’ve read it all, people.

This bodice ain’t gonna rip itself, you know.

Oh yes, I’m a romance professional (a ro-pro?). While I devour a lot of science fiction, fantasy, and horror, I’m truly at home with the romance, from its tried-and-true formulas to its gooey, homey core…