My Own Private Idaho

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye

My husband and I came out to Idaho for Parents Weekend at Boise State to see our son, Tony

We went to see the Broncos trounce Fresno 20-10 in the stadium my husband built--okay, so he only built part of it, but it was still a lot of fun to be there.

I'm also using this as a research trip. After all, my Domestic Gods Gone Wild books are set in Boise and Stanley, Idaho. Here's a panoramic picture of Red Fish Lake--you might remember it from my book WILD THING and since I'm going to be writing A LITTLE ON THE WILD SIDE--Trapper's book next, I thought getting back to Stanley would give me some much-needed inspiration. 

We drove from Boise to Stanley over Galena Summit

The weather was a little iffy, some rain, but I didn't let it stop me. My husband and I were the only ones around--okay, except for one other couple... but I really didn't mind sharing with them.

The fall colors were incredible!

After we left Stanley, we headed toward Sun Valley--That's Baldy Mountain in the background.

We're staying the night at The Sun Valley Inn

After we checked into our hotel, we went to Ketchum, and walked around downtown. Whenever I'm in Ketchum, I never know what I'll find, but it usually makes me smile. Check out this dog protecting his truck--from top to bottom.

And the sign honoring Ernest Hemingway--it's it gorgeous?

We ate at The Pioneer~ one of my favorite restaurants.

Check out our dinner companions...

Right now, I have Sun Valley Serenade on the TV while I'm writing this blog. It's always fun to watch, and they have it running on a continuous loop 24-7.

Tomorrow, we're going to hang around Sun Valley for a while. Have breakfast at the Kneadery...

And then head back to Boise to say goodbye to our son before flying back home. It's been a great little vacation!

So, what's your favorite place to vacation? I guess you know mine is Idaho...

Call Me Wild Is Taking Reviewers By Storm

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye

Call Me Wild

She doesn't know a single thing about relationships...

Unemployed sportswriter Jessie James plans to make a killing writing a bestselling romance novel. She's never read one, but really, how hard can it be? Moving cross-country to a borrowed house in Idaho, Jessie starts her research with the first gorgeous guy she runs into...

Luckily, he knows everything...

Sports doctor Fisher Kincaid notices Jessie right away--the transplanted Easterner sticks out like a sore thumb in the small town. When he discovers she's researching attraction and romance, he graciously offers himself as a test subject. That's when everything starts to go wrong, and they both find out how much they need a few good lessons in love...

Robin Kaye created a world with this series that I didn't want to leave and that I love returning to with each new book. Call Me Wild was a great addition and makes me want to reread the while also looking forward to the next book. This is definitely in my keeper pile and is a definite reread!! BEST OF THE BEST rating!!! 

Belle's Book Bag

I’m going to start this review by being blunt, if you are a Robin Kaye fan and you are up to date with her books, read this review and then RUN to your favorite online bookseller and download this one immediately. If you are not up to date, get up to date…then repeat the steps above. If you have not read Robin Kaye, what are you waiting for? Go immediately to your online bookseller and download everything she’s written. Start with Romeo, Romeo and progress from there but I’ll warn you she’s addicting and her latest, Call Me Wild is one smart, funny, sexy and fantastic book! (Note from DiDi – you could read Call Me Wild as a stand alone and then you will want to buy the entire series)

I love it when a writer whom I’ve read frequently can continue to surprise me with fresh plot lines

and characters that so real you want to meet them and have dinner. Robin manages that over and over again and it’s why I never tire of reading her work. 

~Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews by Slick Reads

Robin Kaye has been a favorite author of mine for quite a while now and reading her latest Call Me Wild reminds me of why I enjoy her books so much. I’ve never been much for romance novels but Robin’s characters are so awesome and her stories are so fun that I find myself losing track of all time reading them and that pretty much explains why I keep going back for more and will continue to as long as she keeps writing.

~ Darlene at Peeking Between The Pages

So call me cupid but I love seeing these two, from opposite ends of the stick making a go for each other.  Wouldn’t you? As the pages turn, you can see how the plot sizzles and  the explosive chemistry between the characters will make you roll over laughing. Though this is my first time reading a book by author Robin Kaye, Ms. Kaye was able hook me in right at the first chapter. Call Me Wild is riveting and wickedly funny, the comedic quirks the author included kept me laughing from the beginning to end. Especially at the way Fisher was being rejected by Jessie. Overall, this is definitely the best romantic comedy I have read all year. 

~ Bitten By Love Reviews

Robin Kaye’s Call Me Wild is a sweet, sexy and all around fun read…. Robin Kaye’s engaging writing style and unique storyline keep Call Me Wild moving at a fast pace. It is a captivating read with appealing protagonists and entertaining, witty dialogue. The supporting cast of characters is delightful and equally well drawn. 

~Book Reviews & More by Kathy

CALL ME WILD is a suitable title because this novel is wildly entertaining! The next installment in Robin Kaye's Wild Thing series is a winner!

People who have already heard of Robin Kaye probably know what kind of excitement to expect from her stories. I'll admit this was my first novel by Ms Kaye and I can easily understand all the commotion. CALL ME WILD takes you a on a great romantic journey...one that has high points and low points for the characters, to make reading it that much more enjoyable. There were a combination of things that I loved about this novel, but the intimacy between the characters definitely stands out. It just proves you can't go wrong when reading books written by Robin Kaye. Also, don't be scared to start this novel in the middle of a series. You won't be left behind, but you will want to get to know the other characters a little better by the end. So like me, I'm sure you'll be eyeing her backlist for your ‘to be read' pile! 

Robin Kaye has a great series in her hands because she's fused together a family of characters that are simply unique and humorous. They complement each other in the best way and keep you looking forward to the next story. It's one thing to read it for the sexy romance, but it's another to stay because you have fallen in love with the characters. The story is light, the romance is breathtaking and the mood is humorous...making it an enjoyable read from the first page to the last. 

~ Lisa Jo The Romance Reviews

If you didn't know, I'm a big fan of Robin Kaye's books & this series. And once more she has written another great book that I fell in love with. With every new book in the series, I'm thinking "This is my most favourite!", and once again that happened.

I love the Kincaid family - they're all great characters, really fun & charming, and yeah - hilarious, you gotta love them all. And this book was just so funny, I laughed out loud again & again, yeah I'm laughing right now thinking about some of the scenes - hilarious.

…the biggest reason I love Robin Kaye's books are the relationships between family & friends. The way she makes you connect to the characters & love them & care for them - that's the best part, that's why Robin Kaye is one of my 2 most favourite adult contemporary romance authors…. 

~Aleksandra's Corner

I'm giving away two copies of Call Me Wild. To enter the drawing, just comment and be sure to leave your email address so I can contact you if you win. You might want to write it out like RobinKayeWrites (at) google (dot) com so that spammers don't inundate your email with offers for Viagra and the like. 

Are We There Yet?

Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

A week ago today I took an unexpected cross-country trip. Okay, maybe it wasn't totally unexpected since my husband was supposed to drive my son from Maryland to Boise, Idaho and I'd planned to fly out with my daughters. We were to meet up with the boys and take a few vacation days in the mountains of Ketchum, Sun Valley, Stanley, and McCall before attending my son's freshman orientation at Boise State University. I just never expected to be the one driving! 

Unfortunately something happened at my husband's work that made it impossible for him to leave, so I had less than twelve hours to pack, sleep, and head out. That wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't been doing laundry for days for the boys and not me. After all, I wasn't supposed to have left until Thursday. It also didn't help that the county was replacing the water mains and turned off my water from ten at night until six in the morning. Yes, you read that right--I not only had no clean clothes, but I couldn't even wash them.

Oh, and did I mention that I was on a deadline and a blog tour? Yeah, it just keeps getting better and better! 

My husband thought he could have the problem fixed in time to fly out with our daughters. Wednesday night I found out he was wrong. The girls would be flying alone, which wasn't a problem except for the fact I was ten hours from Boise, they were arriving before noon, and my friend wasn't answering her cellphone so I had no way of knowing if she got the message to pick my daughters up at the airport.

I took off at four in the morning after way too little sleep so the girls wouldn't have to wait long in case my friend didn't get the message. I stopped to grab a cup of coffee, ran into a truck stop, only to be alerted by an attendant on my way out of the restroom that someone had just rear-ended my parked car.

Two hours later, I was duct taping cardboard over my missing rear window, and still dealing with the police. Did I mention that the boy who hit me had no insurance and was younger than my son?

The good news is that no one was hurt since no one was in either car (yeah, I still can't figure that one out either.), my dear friend picked up the girls from the airport, the car was drivable, if not a little windy, and we made it safely to Boise.

In between getting my daughter's tooth pulled (don't ask) and arranging to have the car fixed, we've enjoyed seeing old friends and exploring Boise. My son is loving college so far. By the end of his first day of orientation, he'd already made a friend (who turned out to be his roommate for orientation), met a girl, and got a date!

The bad news is there's a forest fire close to Stanley--one of the most beautiful places on earth--so our plans for a drive through the area where much of my books take place, is still up in the air. Still, we're headed up to McCall and Sun Valley/Ketchum for some mountain fun. I'll try to remember to take pictures to share in my next blog.

In celebration of Call Me Wild's release, I'm giving away a copy to a lucky commenter. 

Just tell me about your last vacation disaster and be sure to include your email address spelling out at and dot so you don't end up with a mailbox full of spam. 

Do things like this happen to everyone, or only to me? It makes me wonder if a plague of locusts can't be far behind...

Switching Gears

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye

After finishing my first book in my Bad Boys of Red Hook series, I had to get my head back into my Domestic Gods—men who cook, clean, and know how to take care of their women. It’s been a difficult transition from Red Hook in Brooklyn, to the Sawtooth National Recreation Area in the mountains of Idaho, to get out of my bad boys heads and into Trapper Kincaid, irreverent judge, outdoorsman, and all around great guy.

 I was lucky enough to marry my very own Domestic God, so over the last few days, I had to remind myself of all the ways my Domestic God makes almost everything in life more bearable—the ones I can write about, anyway.

 ➢ My Domestic God wakes me up every morning with a smile and a cup of coffee. I choose to believe he does this because I’m worth it. He tells me he does it because he loves me—and because of that pesky safety issue. I’m downright scary until after I’ve had my coffee. The man has learned the importance of buying great coffee and has extraordinary coffee-making ability. It’s a gift.

 ➢ Laundry and cleaning: Before I began writing seriously, my Domestic God did laundry only when he was in fear of having to wear his “emergency spare” pair of underwear—the dreaded Christmas Tigger boxers which, in his estimation, were not only embarrassing, but very uncomfortable. But I digress. In case you are unaware, cleaning and laundry are my nemesis. As a stay-at-home mom, I did my fair share of both. Okay, I’ll admit, I did as little of my fair share as possible. Still, I did more cleaning and laundry than anyone should be subject to in a lifetime.

 When I began working toward publication, my Domestic God sat me down and told me he’d been thinking. He’d decided that writing and taking care of the kids were two full-time jobs. Since he only had one job, it was only fair that he take over the cleaning and laundry. After he revived me from my dead faint, he got very lucky.

 ➢ Childcare: It’s understood that Domestic Gods either take over childcare responsibilities when they come home from work or they cook dinner. My DG, while sufficient in the kitchen, is not the cook that I am. He always took over the changing of diapers, bathing of kids, and telling of bedtime stories while I cooked dinner. He regarded it as his quality time with the kids. I regarded it as my quality time without them. Until the kids were old enough to clean up after dinner, DG usually did the dishes, too, God love him.

 ➢ My Domestic God is willing to be brave and inconvenienced. He and my son—DG in Training—are called upon to kill bugs and pick up dead critters the cat drags in—even if it means driving home from work to do so. My DG doesn’t understand why I can play with octopi and snakes, deal with any amount of blood or medical procedures, not be bothered by live critters, but totally freak when I come in contact with a dead mouse or squirrel, or worse, a not-quite-dead mouse, squirrel, rabbit, or possum. My Domestic God knows not to tease me about my ick factor tolerance, and appreciates the opportunity to show his true heroic qualities. My DG in training has yet to learn either of those finer points.

 ➢ I believe Domestic Gods must be handy around the house and with cars or be willing to pay those who are. It would behoove said DG to make sure whomever he hired be easy on the eyes. I do so love a man in a tool-belt, but then, my DG has his own tool-belt and can fix pretty much anything. He’s also easy on the eyes, although these eyes wouldn’t mind some variety in dreamy tool-belt-wearing men. Unfortunately, I’ll probably never get to drool over another, but then I don’t have to deal with the guys who aren’t so dreamy and have a penchant for showing off butt cleavage, either.


Trapper Kincaid is a Domestic God Gone Wild, so he can do all of the above, indoors or out. He can cook a five-course meal in a kitchen or over a campfire, excels in the bedroom, tent... okay, he excels pretty much everywhere after the first of May anyway, loves to clean--I know, he's a little sick, and has a string of 72-hour affairs. Now all I have to do is figure out how to get he and Bianca together for more than 72-hours...

Thanks for allowing me to do this little exercise to get my head back into my Domestic Gods! So, if you had your very own Domestic God, what would you want him to do for you? I can't wait to hear your answers, but, um, please remember this is a PG 13 rated blog...

The End

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye



Last Sunday was one of my favorite days as a writer—the day I finally wrote The End. This was a good thing since Back To You was due on my editor’s desk the next day. I drove home from meeting my lovely critique partners at Starbucks knowing I had to write this blog and I thought about the experience of writing this book.

Every book is different, and no two experiences are going to be the same, but having just finished my seventh book, I’m beginning to see trends and subtle changes in my writing process.

With every book, I find that writing the beginning and the end gets more difficult. It’s been my experience that the book will be almost finished for the longest time, but I go back and rewrite the beginning and the end over and over and over again. A book not only has to begin with a hook, it has to end with a hook. It has to make the reader want to reach for my next book and unfortunately for me, hooks are not easy to come by. So I’ve been writing and rewriting the end of the Back To You. I’m still not happy with it.

I sent the manuscript in on time and received an email from my editor telling me she’s not going to be able to look at it for a few weeks so I still have time to change my mind about the end, and, knowing me, I’ll take another crack at it.

I’m impossible to please so I thank God for both deadlines and revisions. Most authors hear that and think, is she masochistic? Maybe, but I see revisions as a chance to catch all the things I missed the first time around. I know, I’m a sick, sick puppy.

I’ve seen a lot of changes in my writing process during the writing of Back To You because I didn’t have the time I had to write that I had with my previous books. I’ve always been a pretty clean writer. I write a scene and I don’t move on until I’m happy with it. It’s the same way with a chapter, but in the past, I’ve read and reread the book countless times before I actually finished it. Not this time. I just didn’t have the time to devote several hours to reading the book when I needed to be writing the darn thing. Because of that, last weekend was the first time I sat down to read the entire book. I met with my critique partners and we read the book aloud from beginning to end. I went to our meeting with a good bit of trepidation. Truth be told, I was sick. I was sure that the book would be awful. Actually, I think my exact words were, “God, I hope it doesn’t suck.” My Critique Partners (who I’m sure have a place in heaven with their names on it) told me I was wrong. Me, I just prayed they were right. I have to tell you, the torture went on the entire two days we read. I’d say “Okay, the first 115 pages are good, but what about the next 285?”

I might be shooting myself in the foot because my editor has yet to read it, but I have to say, it was much better than I thought it would be, which in laymen terms means I’m pretty sure it doesn’t suck. I kept waiting for it to, and although there were a few rough sentences that needed to be rewritten, and more spelling and punctuation mistakes than I thought existed in the world, all in all, I’m happier with this book than I had been with any of the others. Mind you, I hadn’t had much sleep and I was hurled into allergy season, so I might have been delusional, but at least I’m a happy delusional.

I’ll do one more read-through and send the manuscript back to my lovely editor by Monday morning, at which time I’ll suffer with a bad case of agita until I hear from her. It’s a good thing I already have my next assignment—writing the synopsis for my next Domestic Gods Gone Wild book, Something Wild. I have my work cut out for me but at the end of the day, I’ll still be praying that my editor calls me and says, “I loved it.”



Gosh that feels good!

Oh, The People You Will Meet…

I write at Starbucks. When I’m close to deadline—like right now, I’m there more than the busiest barista, and that’s no lie. This week I’ve spent and inordinate amount of time at my local Starbucks which, thank God, is less than a mile from my home.

I’ve been there most days from nine or so in the morning until they give me the old “We’re closing in ten minutes.” warning at twenty after nine at night. During the summer months, I’ve been known to move my computer out onto the patio and write until my battery dies or I need the restroom, whichever comes first. If I had an extension cord and a Porta Potty, I’m sure I would have been there 24-7 during the last week of writing Fisher Kincaid’s story, Call Me Wild. One of my favorite baristas even brought a box of coffee out to me to hold me over before he left for the night. Thank God Starbucks never turns off their wifi!

This week I’m on a tight writing deadline but I’m trying not to stress too much about it since it happens with every book. I’ve found when one spends 90 hours a week in one place staring at a computer screen; people tend to ask you what the heck you’re doing. So in the last few weeks, I’ve met the most fascinating people. I live in a relatively small, rural town in Maryland. I’ve been here eleven years and to tell you the truth, not much happens that’s at all exciting. Imagine my surprise when in the last couple of weeks I’ve met more wicked cool people than I’ve met in the past eleven years.

Take for instance Friday afternoon… I got up to stretch my legs when I noticed a woman curled up in front of the fire reading a book. Now, I don’t know about you, but whenever I see someone reading, I want to know what they’re reading. This is the only thing I don’t like about e-readers. You can’t simply spy, you have to actually stop and ask the person what they’re reading, and sometimes you’re given dirty looks—not that I let a little thing like that stop me. But I digress… I see this woman with her head buried in a book (the same book she’d been reading for hours). I wanted to know what she was reading, but she had the book on her lap. Of course I had to ask, I just had to. She held up Gena Showalter’s new book THE DARKEST SEDUCTION, which she said was really good.

Needless to say we started chatting and I find out EJ Lawrence a Forensic scientist and specializes in DNA. I was immediately impressed, after all, I’m a huge fan of NCIS. It turns out her lab actually does all the DNA tests for NCIS (the real one). So EJ, my new best friend, whips out her phone and shows me pictures of her and the cast of the show! The cast went to the lab to do research and to meet their real-life counterparts. Here’s one of EJ Lawrence and Pauley Perrette


I’m sure you’ve all heard me mention Twinkle Toes, my sixteen-year-old injured ballerina. Yes, she’s stopped dancing, moved home, and has decided to concentrate 100% on school instead of dancing forty hours a week. Her new goal in life is to be Abby on NCIS—a real life Abby that is. And there I was talking to her—well, EJ AKA Real Life Abby.

I asked EJ if I could email the picture to Twinkle Toes. I mean, how cool is that? I also asked if she would mind meeting Twinkle Toes to talk to her about what she does, the education involved, and whatever else Twinkle Toes wanted to know. EJ, being the nicest woman in the world, said she had all night. She sat with Anna talking about everything and anything for at least two hours. When we closed Starbucks, I sent Anna home with her dad, and EJ and I ended up talking for another hour. She’s definitely one of the most fascinating people I’ve ever met, and she’s also a writer—I can’t wait to read her work. Now all I have to do is stop talking to people at Starbucks and write faster!

So, am I the only one who meets wicked cool people at Starbucks?

I Married Mr. Fix-It

By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye


And that’s not a bad thing. Okay, some times it’s not great either—I’ve been living in a construction site for most of my marriage, but when it comes to fixing things, my man excels.

We live in a hundred year old Victorian farmhouse in Maryland, and when we bought it, I was in Idaho trying to sell our place. Stephen had already moved to Maryland to start his new job, so when I saw the ad for a Victorian, I had him go look at it.

Stephen called me right back all excited. “It needs some work,” he told me, “but nothing I can’t handle. It’s got great bones, ten-foot ceilings, and a turret with a big witches peak.”

To be fair, I probably stopped listening after the turret and the witches peak part. What romance writer doesn’t want to live in a house with a turret? When he started talking builerspeak I most likely zoned out.

The house had five bedrooms, two baths, and was on over a half-acre right on Main Street—perfect. It was also within our price range, which should have given me pause. But all I could see were the ten-foot ceilings and the turret—that is, until we moved in.

Yeah, mistake number one was letting my husband, a cross between “Tim The Tool Man” Taylor and Bob the Builder, buy a house before I saw it.


I had expected a fixer-upper but what this place needed was a can of gasoline and a match!



Stephen opened the door, and the smell of mold was so bad I immediately started wheezing—probably from the combination of mold and shock. He had told me the house needed a new roof, but what he failed to mention was that the roof on our hundred-year-old Victorian, like everything but the bathrooms, was original. When it rained, it rained in the house—literally. It’s pretty bad when the dog goes to the five-gallon buckets that are placed all over the house to catch the rainwater before he checks his own water bowl.

Thankfully, he cleaned the place up, and installed all new appliances in the week and a half I was in Florida picking up the kids. He even surprised me by buying a whole house water filter. I’d have been happy to have one that sat below the kitchen sink, but no, he got the big one. The water filter had to be connected to the plumbing—mistake number two.

When Stephen installed the water filter with more power, the pipe it was supposed to connect to broke because it was so old. He replaced that pipe only to have the next break also. On and on it went until, in the span of two weeks, we had all-new plumbing. The electrical system was the same way.

Now I know replacing all the plumbing and wiring in the house is a lot of work, but really, the lights worked before, and all the toilets flushed—usually. But all I could see was that I was still living in a house where, when it rained you needed an umbrella inside—and no, I’m not exaggerating.

Over the next nine years, we raised and replaced the roof, replaced the heating system, installed all new windows and siding, moved and built two new bathrooms, and remodeled three of the five bedrooms. But the turret, the one room I’d been dreaming about since day one, was left unfinished.

I don’t know how many times I suggested he tackle it, and every time he had an excuse not to—until the day his mother called. She told him she was giving us a bunch of family heirlooms and that he’d better get the turret finished. He started it the next day. I spent nine years begging for him to work on the turret, and all it took was one phone call from his mother.



I would complain, but really, I can’t. He did the most amazing job. He built a tray ceiling in a decagon that mirrored the windows, added a chandelier with an ornate medallion, and rebuilt and refinished the pocket door. The room is almost done except for the hardwood floors…maybe when I get my next royalty check. But I have to say that it’s almost worth it.

I wonder if I can get his mother to call about the kitchen and the dining room?

I'm giving away a copy of my latest book, Wild Thing and a $25 Amazon or Barnes And Noble Gift Certificate to a lucky commenter in the US or CAN only who answers the following questions... Are you handy or married to Mr. Fix it? Would you rather remodel a house or have one built?

Congratulations! Winners from Jana DeLeon's drawings are:

Alison - $25 gift card

amf, Sarah S., and Angela Bount have all won autographed copies of my next Intrigue.

Please contact me through my website and we'll work out the mailing/etc.

Shopping Anyone? Another Wild Thing Give Away

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye


I hate to shop. I really do. The only store I enjoy going to is the Apple Store--I mean, it's like an FAO Schwarz for adults. Just the thought of going to the mall between Thanksgiving and President's Day is enough to make my ass twitch--after all my mother has been dragging me through stores and shopping malls all my life.

I had my first panic attack at Macy's in Herald Square. I walked very young, and my older sister didn't. My sister was in the stroller, and I was walking when my mom pushed us into the elevator at Macy's. It was winter, and back then all the men wore long wool coats and hats. I got stuffed into the corner, surrounded by wool and I didn't know where my mom was. I was maybe two years old at the time... I haven't liked crowded elevators since. Then there was that time mom had me sitting on the moving belt you're supposed to hold on to on the escalator. She must have reached for my sister and let go of me. I went flying over the side and landed on the jewelry case below. Yeah, I don't much care for escalators either...

I thought it was only fair that since I'm in the middle of my blog tour for Wild Thing, I'd torture my hero, Hunter Kincaid, a little more and send him out Christmas shopping.

All you have to do is comment to win one of two copies of Wild Thing! Be sure to write out your email address for me so I can let you know if you win.

I hope you enjoy the shopping trip. It's the closest I've come to the mall since the last time I saw my mother in October.

Hunter Kincaid’s definition of hell was going shopping with his sister, Karma. He liked shopping all right, as long as it was at Home Depot, REI, McU Sports, The Elephant’s Perch or just about any other home improvement or sporting good store. Yeah, there was nothing like shopping for building materials, crampons, climbing ropes, kayaks, rafts, hiking boots, skis, and mountain bike—all worth while things to buy.

Hunter turned to his sister, Karma and dodged a pack of teenagers. “Tell me again why we’re in the mall?”

Karma pushed past a family with strollers and ducked into a store called Hot Topic. “To buy your wife Christmas presents.”

“What more can Toni want? I already bought her a set of skis, bindings, boots, poles, bibs, a powder jacket, and a parka.”

Karma turned and rolled her eyes. “Toni doesn’t ski.”

“Yet. “ He smiled and rocked back on his heels. “She just needs the right equipment and a me—she’s married to the best ski instructor around.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe Toni doesn’t want to ski?”

Karma couldn’t be serious. Who wouldn’t want to ski? “Nah, Toni is going to love skiing. What’s not to love?”

“She’s still not at all comfortable being in the wilderness, and most ski resorts look like woods on mountains, remember?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Toni’s plenty comfortable at home, and our home is on a mountain beside a ski resort.”

“Well, just in case she’s not overly excited about you forcing her to ski, I thought it might be helpful to diversify your gifts. Hot Topic is one of Toni’s favorite stores.”

Hunter looked around and had to admit the place looked like the inside of Toni’s closet. It was like Goth heaven. He shrugged. “Okay, what does she want? It looks as if she’s got most of the store at home already.” At least now he knew where she shopped, not that he’d ever want to join her. There were just some things couple shouldn’t do together. Shopping for girl stuff was one of them. He looked around and saw a half dozen of graphic T-shirts Toni already owned. When he spotted the one she was wearing the first time he laid eyes on her, he couldn’t help but smile.

He followed Karma into the shoe section where she picked up a pair of black stiletto boots that had to go above the knee. They were sexy as hell.

Karma tried them on over her tight jeans. “Toni’s been drooling over these for months.”

“You don’t think she’d wear them outside the bedroom do you?”

Karma shrugged and giggled. “You know Toni.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.” He rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. “Okay, I’ll buy them.” He’d just have to make sure she never wore them in public. Toni had no idea how hot she looked, and he didn’t want anyone else knowing it either. Good thing he had ways of distracting her. “What else?”

Karma went around the store picking out hats, fingerless gloves, arm warmers, and stockings. God help him if Toni wore the fishnet stockings with the naughty-school-girl skirt Karma added to the pile, and those boots—he’d be a goner. He paid for the purchases and grabbed the bags. “Where to next?”

Karma slid her arm through his and headed in the opposite direction of where they were parked. Not a good sign. “Victoria Secret.”

“Kill me now.”

“I know for a fact you like Toni wearing nice lingerie.”

“Yeah, and I don’t even mind hand washing it. I just don’t want to buy it. Besides, the way I look at it, it’s more of a present for me than it is for her. Wouldn’t that be a little selfish of me? It would be like buying myself a Christmas present.”

Karma rolled her eyes. “Aw come on, big brother. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few scraps of satin and lace.”

“Not afraid, but damn, Karma. The last thing I want to do is shop for naughty lingerie with my little sister.”

“Time to put your big-boy boxers on Hunter and get over yourself.”

“I thought I did that when I bought the boots.”

Karma just chuckled and led him right into what he was sure was the bowls of hell.

So tell me, do you have a shopping phobia? Has anyone else taken a header off the belt of an old escalator and landed on a jewelry case? Am I the only one with a fear escalators and crowded Macy's elevators?

Wild Thing is Out!

By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye





I should be more excited--my fifth book is being released today, making me a confirmed career author! Did you hear a lack of enthusiasm despite the exclamation point?

Now don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled about Wild Thing. I think it's my favorite book so far. I love Toni and Hunter. I had such a hard time doing my galleys because I kept forgetting I was supposed to be working and ended up getting so sucked into the story, before I knew it I'd read three chapters and had to go back and re-check them.

My lack of excitement stems from the fact that now, with five books under my belt, I'm considered a career author. Did you know it takes five published books to be considered a career author? Well, supposedly it does, I'm just not sure who is doing the considering. In my mind, I was a confirmed career author the day I finished my first book--after all, I had a product to sell and was actively selling it. To me, telling an author they're not a career author until after they've published five books would be like telling Ray Kroc he wasn't a career restauranteur until after he sold a billion burgers.

Now that I'm a confirmed career author I thought I would feel different. I thought people take me more seriously. Yesterday I dressed seriously, I had the whole black on black thing going (a black turtleneck, black jeans and an awesome long sweater I picked up at Chico's.) It didn't work. I might as well have been running around in sweats--I still had to go to the pharmacy and then to the school to drop off the prescription to the school nurse in case Mini-Me has an allergic reaction to her new antibiotic. Unfortunately Mini-Me is also Worst-Case-Senario-Girl, something else she picked up from me. After that I had a lovely meeting at school to go over some testing. No change there either. I had an hour to kill and went to a restaurant to have lunch--I ate over my computer while desperately trying to get my email. It was the same-old, same-old. No sign of a Nora-esque moment. My life hadn't changed a bit (well, except I didn't end up with a spot on my new black turtleneck, but that I think was more dumb luck than a sign of the change). I also ran Mini-Me to the doctor's office. The nurse mentioned that she buys my books for Christmas presents and heard one was coming out. I'm thinking cool! Here's my moment! She asked who the hero was and seemed upset it was Hunter and not Trapper. A total crash and burn. No Nora-esque moment there either.

So I ask you, am I expecting too much now that I'm a career author? Should there be a change? The only change I see are the few coins ratting around in the bottom of my purse. And if there were a change what should it be?

I'll give away a couple copies of Wild Thing to lucky commenters (US only please--which is not my decision but that of my publisher, just so you know) so be sure to leave your email addresses--just spell out the at and the dot so weird people don't get them and send you spam.

Santa Came Early This Year...

After the week from hell, three days with a raging fever, and six days on antibiotics, Sunday I finally felt well enough to venture out. Well, okay, if I hadn’t been headed to the Apple Store to buy my new iMac, I would have skipped the whole thing.

I’d been holding out for two years because my beloved iMac G4—aka MacGorgeous was six years old (that’s about two in Mac years), and still ran like a champ, making it difficult to talk myself into plopping down the money to buy a new Mac when there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the old one. Of course, with enough incentive, I could talk myself and anyone else into just about anything so it’s not surprising that I somehow managed it. It did help that my daughter’s PC went to the big Windows Cloud in the sky, and like her mama, Twinkle Toes is a Mac Girl. I decided that I’d go even greener—I do drive a Prius after all—I’d be even more environmentally friendly and recycle MacGorgeous, though there are some who might call me cheap, but let’s not even go there. I doubled the memory, put a little bounce in MacGorgeous’s beach ball, and with a tearful goodbye willed him to my daughter which seemed apropos since I felt like death…


I had been so excited, I was finally getting the iMac of my dreams. The one I would visit anytime I was within a twenty-mile radius of an Apple Store. The Mac with a screen big enough to land a plane on. AKA—MacDreamy (sigh)—the 27-inch iMac proving the old adage that size really does matter.

But by the time my husband and I got home, I didn’t even open the box. I just asked DH to set MacDreamy up because I needed a nap. I was almost happy it took eight hours to complete. Who knew strep throat could pack such a punch?

Monday began early with my youngest waking me with 103 fever—yeah, she’d been feeling like crap since Saturday and I’d been delusional enough to think she had a cold. I told you I could talk myself into anything. I had no idea that cleaning up MacGorgeous and setting up MacDreamy would take all day when done in the midst of dealing with a sick kid and doctor’s appointments. On the bright side, the lovely Apple Care people and I are now intimate friends.

Imagine my surprise when my son came home from a half-day of school (yeah, I’d forgotten about the whole half-day thing) so it was a double surprise when I noticed he carried a box addressed to me containing my new book, Wild Thing.

So to celebrate, my new book, my new iMac, and the loss of MacGorgeous who, I might add, looked stunning sitting on my desk right next to MacDreamy, I’m giving away two copies of Wild Thing to a lucky commenter. Reading your comments will give me something to do other than take care my son, who woke up this morning claiming illness too. Yeah, Santa really did come early…

The Problem with Perfume...

By Robin 'Red Hot' Kaye


I have a problem with perfume—several problems actually. The first is, I’m desperately allergic to most of them. I avoid the fragrance aisles in department stores, I think those people who walk around with perfume spritzers are the devil incarnate, and I can’t shop at Hollister or even walk past Bed Bath & Beyond without a few puffs of my inhaler.

I was at a conference a few years ago where they asked the attendees not to wear perfume because there are people in the world, like me, who start wheezing and coughing when exposed to those who bathe in noxious scents. I sat two rows behind a woman who obviously had not gotten the memo and reeked of Ew d’ Putrescent. My throat closed, my bronchi constricted, and I began wheezing and coughing. I had to leave the workshop before it began, but even that didn’t help. The pungent perfume clung to my clothes and forced me back to my room for a quick wardrobe change. Two days later, my clothes still held that foul scent.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore perfume—well, the few I’ve found that I love and can wear without requiring a trip to the emergency room. When I find one, I covet it. I keep the beautiful bottles on the mirrored tray on my dresser, pull the cap off and take a sniff, and sigh in contentment. But I don’t wear them. Sure, if I go out for a special occasion, I’ll put it on, but how many special occasions do I get? Not enough. I’ve always thought that wearing perfume on a daily basis was a waste of money. The stuff certainly isn’t cheep.

There was one perfume that for some reason, I wore often: Trish McEvoy, 9, Blackberry and Vanilla Musk. I couldn’t help myself, I loved it that much. It was light and dark, decadent and soft. I bought a small bottle and used it all up, and for the past three years, I’ve saved the empty bottle—wanting to buy more, afraid I’d forget the name, the number, and heck, if I took the top off and sniffed really hard, I could still smell the scent. But with a family of five including three expensive teenagers and the turn in the economy, it was difficult to see the necessity of perfume. The empty bottle sat on my dresser.

Last Monday, on the way to drop my mother off at the airport after a wonderful weekend visit, we stopped at the mall to grab a bite to eat and ended up at Nordstrom’s Café. Now going into a mall with my mother is dangerous. If shopping were an art, my mom would be Monet. If she’s not working, she’s shopping—it’s been her life-long hobby. Over the years, she’s dragged me through every mall on the Eastern Seaboard and made me hate shopping. While at Nordstrom, I took a swing past the Trish McEvoy counter for a spritz of my favorite perfume, I asked the price and found they had a special on a gift box with a big bottle of 9, and a small bottle of 9 Sexy for the same price as one big bottle—what a bargain. I made a decision at that moment, that when I received my advance for my NAL contract, I would run back to Nordstrom and buy that gift set. It would be my one atta’ girl present to myself. It killed me to walk away without purchasing it–I was strong. But then, I was also with my mother. On our way out of Nordstrom, she purchased a sweater, turned to me and said, “I’ve got a present, so now you need one. Come on, let’s go back and get you that perfume.” I was floored and elated.

The next day I was getting dressed, looking at the beautiful bottles on my mirrored tray and thought, no, I won’t wear it because I don’t want to waste it and then I thought, how stupid is that? What good is having perfume if you don’t wear it? It’s like banking all your money and never spending it on anything but bills, never enjoying it. Not wearing make-up unless you’re going out-on-the-town. Not buying flowers unless you’re having company. I’ve decided that I’m going to literally and figuratively wear perfume every day, no matter what. I’ll do it for me. How can it be wasteful if I enjoy it? I just realized, after all these years, I’m worth it.