He doesn’t need me anymore. Or so he says.

Well, I never thought I’d hear these words from my husband’s mouth, but he said them. I was working in my office, trying to make my deadline when he walked in. He stopped in front of my desk, looked me right in the eyes and said, “I don’t need you anymore.”

I stopped writing, stared up at him through my lashes. Now, I’ll admit my chest tightened just a little bit. “Really,” I asked. Then I saw the evidence on his cheek, and I knew exactly what led to this conversation. And it wasn’t lipstick from another woman, either.

“Hmm…” I said. “So your fried chicken turned out that good, huh?”

“Yup, it’s awesome.” He had a little flour smeared on his face, his smile was chockfull of male ego, a smile he reserves for special occasions when he thinks he’s accomplished something really extraordinary. (He can be good at extraordinary, too, but that’s a different blog.)

“I guess I don’t get any credit that I told you how to cook it, huh?” I asked.

“Nope, you should never share your recipes, because all that matters is that now I can cook it for myself. Which means you are no longer indispensible. ”

“You know. . . ” I grinned and offered him my sassy look. “I do more around here than just cook. You sure you don’t need me? And hey, how about we do some bartering.”

He hesitated, but, what can I say, he must have been really hungry, because he told me. “I don’t know. It’s finger-licking good. ”

Feeling slightly rejected, I wasn’t taking his word about his grand accomplishment. I popped up from my desk and went to sample this piece of fried meat that had led to my husband’s flour-smudged face and hurtful words.

Men, can you believe them? I mean, I tell this man how to do it. Explain the pitfalls—make sure the grease is hot enough, make sure the chicken is coated really well--and he manages to fry up a couple of breasts and he thinks he doesn’t need me anymore. And here’s the really terrible thing. His assessment of his accomplishment was dead-on. It was darn good fried chicken. And to be honest, he’d recently mastered rice, cream potatoes, and jiffy cake topped with homemade icing.

Yup, Mr. Craig has turned into Mr. Mom. Why, you may ask? Well, since I’m writing two series, pulling at least ten hours a day, at least six days a week, he’s stepped up to the plate. Or rather, he stepped up to prepare the stuff that fills the plates.

Now, while I’ll admit that he’s mastered some fine Southern cuisine, I’m still working on some of the other Mr. Mom job requirements. Funny thing is that later that day, his Mr. Mom status dropped a notch. I gave him the duty of washing the bed sheets. Now, he’s no stranger to working the washing machine, so I couldn’t see how he could fail. But that evening, when I crawled into bed and I reached for my pillow . . . well, I noticed that my pillow had arms.

Mr. Mom had accidentally put one of his white T-shirts on the pillow instead of a pillow case. “How could you not see it was a T-shirt?” I asked chuckling.

His answer was even funnier than the pillow. “I must have been too busy watching Oprah.“

We both lay in bed laughing and right then, I reminded him of something else he needed me for. And don’t go assuming anything here. I mean, he needed me and, I’ll even admit it, I need him, for the laughter. Oh, the other stuff is nice too, but there is nothing like having a good ol’ fashioned laugh-until-you-hurt session with someone you love. We’re coming up on our twenty-six year anniversary and let me tell you, we can still make each other laugh. And that’s even better than fried chicken.

So what’s going on in your world lately? What crazy thing has someone in your life done? Are you laughing enough? Are you enjoying the company of someone you love? I hope-- even if you’re like me and working too many hours--that you can say you love what you’re doing. I hope that you still find the time to count your blessings, to laugh, to occasionally indulge in good food, have a little wine, and even better, some great company.

Banned and Burned – Books People Love to Hate

I’ve read books that seemed to serve no purpose other than to enrage, insult, or disgust the reader. I’d never call for these books to be banned – freedom of speech is a precious right! – but I have questioned what the author hoped to accomplish by spewing such worthless crap. I recently read an article in the Texas Library Journal about “challenged” books – books that people have called on to be banned in schools and libraries and some of which people have publicly burned. Among them were two novels that I’d read and re-read during my adolescent years, both by author Judy Blume.

The first – Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret – featured a pubescent heroine of mixed-religion parents learning about spirituality, boys, menstruation, and life in general. In other words, the character goes through the exact same things every adolescent girl does – PUBERTY. Oooh, scary! Ban it now!

The other – Forever – is admittedly on a different scale. The main character in that novel, a teenaged girl, loses her virginity to her boyfriend on a colorful rug. Teen sex – yikes! I can’t for the life of me remember the main character’s name, but I remember the boyfriend’s name was Michael. But what struck me then, and has stuck with me to this day, was that the couple eventually broke up and when the heroine later ran into Michael again she felt very apart from him, the closeness gone. If anything, the lesson of the book is that a girl shouldn’t give up her virginity easily because the boy who means everything to her today may be only a vague memory later on.

Fear seems to drive people to cry for censorship. But isn’t it better to open a dialogue and confront the controversial issues head on? It’s only by openly talking about them that information can be shared.

As I ease into my forties, I’m hoping to find out that Judy Blume has written a book about a woman going through menopause. I don’t think I can go through it without her!

The Mouths of Babes

My son has always had a knack for saying the right thing at the wrong time. For example, his first week of pre-school, the teacher told all the kids it was time to clean up the blocks and get ready for quiet time. Did my son clean up quietly? No. I picked up a block, threw it on the floor and yelled, “Dammit!” Which of course, prompted every other three-year old within ear shot to start a chorus of “dammit”s. Sigh. I told his teacher I was so sorry, I had no idea where he’d learned such language, probably from his grandmother. (Sorry, Mom!)

But things have gotten only more fun with age.

Fast forward several years… Every morning I drive my son the ten minutes from our house to his school. Usually, I’m still in a caffeine deprived state at that time, me and early mornings not having the healthiest of relationships. Such was the case this past week when we were stopped at a red light on the way to school, and The Boy looks up at the building on the right and asks, “What’s an Elks Lodge?”

Me: I dunno. Some charity organization for retired men.
The Boy: Like, old men?
Me: Sure.
The Boy: So, what do the old men do there?
Me: I dunno. Sit around and talk about their prostates?

As you can tell, I’m kinda snarky pre-caffeine.
So, a couple days later I’m in the car with The Boy and my mom on the way to do some shopping. We pass by the same route, and The Boy pipes up from the backseat, “Look, Grandma, it’s the Elks Lodge, where old men sit around and talk about their prostitutes!”

Um, yeah. Guess I can’t blame that one on grandma, huh?

Okay, lay it on me - what crazy embarrassing things have your kids said?

Catching Up and Moving Ahead

I really hate to post a picture of myself at the beginning of my 'Comeback Blog' but I kind of wanted to remind you all what I look like. It's been a while. And I'm thrilled to be back. But I need to play a bit of catch-up.

First off--as all writers like to do--permit me to set the scene. I'm sitting in my rather cold office having frugally set the furnace to come on at 60 degrees. I've got my Iowa State University sweatshirt on (two offspring attending that fine institution) and a warm pair of sweatpants. My office window curtains are open and I'm looking out over a fall scene complete with blue skies, sunshine, and falling leaves. I have Christmas music on in the background (Silver Bells at the moment) and a nice hot cup of vanilla tea to warm me. I'm also blowing my nose every ten seconds from the crud I just caught. Glamourous, huh?

Now for the catching up part.

This spring our family was one of many families who received the devastating, heart-stopping diagnosis of cancer. And it pretty much stopped me in my tracks--especially in the writing realm--as all my energy and time was directed into helping and supporting my family member as she courageously battled cancer as well as helping my entire family through this difficult time. When I wasn't at the hospital or providing medical support, I was working extra hours to build up compensatory time to use for medical appointments. It's been a long, difficult journey, but several weeks ago we got the incredible news that the cancer is in full remission! In fact, last weekend we had a 'Cancer Cure Costume Gala' to celebrate the awesome news. I even dressed up!


If you couldn't guess who I'm dressed as, I'll tell you. It's 'Mrs. White' from the movie version of Clue. It was great fun--all the more so because of why we were celebrating. While we won't finish up treatment for another three weeks, I felt it was time to get myself back in the swing of things and get headed ahead on another long, difficult trek: the writing journey. Since we've been fortunate to add such wonderful, talented authors to our roster here at Killer Fiction, blogging every other Thursday is now going to be very doable for me. And, as I said before, I'm just thrilled to be back.

Moving Ahead

As some of you may recall, in March of this year I began the Great Agent Hunt, having terminated my agreement with my former agent. That hunt, however, had to be put on the back burner while we dealt with medical issues. However, I am beginning that search anew. For those of you wondering when/if another Calamity Jayne book will be out, the answer is 'I hope so.' Events relating to my former publisher are still in flux and I should know more in the next couple of weeks about the future of this series. Meanwhile, with the help of fellow Killer Fiction author turned mentor Jana DeLeon (a/k/a 'Deadly DeLeon) I am getting ready to submit a project to Harlequin Intrigue. While it has taken me awhile to get used to the shorter, tighter story structure, I am enjoying the challenge and the opportunity to explore a different direction with my writing. More on that soon, I hope.

Meanwhile, I continue to work full-time in legislative and judicial security and enjoy the oppportunity to see state government at work up close and personal. And. Yeah. The stories I'll tell...;)

So. I'm grateful today. I'm grateful for beautiful autumn days, jazz music, and flavored tea. I'm grateful for the opportunity to once again do something I love so much and have missed so dearly. I'm grateful to God for His care and strength and healing. And I'm grateful for caring friends and loving family.

Boy Howdy! It's great to be back in the saddle again!

~Bullet Hole Bacus~

Confessions of a book addict

They say the first step to curing an addiction is admitting you have a problem. So okay - I’ll say it. My bookshelves are out of control.

It’s not like anything has changed recently. I’ve always been a book addict. But it used to be that whenever I’d need more room, I bought more shelves. But then the shelves in our bedroom were full. So I moved some books into boxes in my son’s room. That worked out (mostly) unless I absolutely needed to read Pride and Prejudice at eleven o’clock at night, at which point I’d be shuffling through my sleeping son’s closet with the teeny tiny key light that I got for free five years ago at a festival and it *still* works (go AT&T for your choice in flimsy plastic key lights).

Anyhow, I have no more room in my son’s closet (even a four-year-old needs room for a wardrobe) so I moved onto my daughter’s closet. She has these high shelves that she can’t reach anyway. We don’t want them to go to waste, right? Really, I was just being economical by stacking about a hundred or so books on her shelf. Forget that I didn’t go through them for content. My bad, since last week I caught six-year-old Maddie “reading” an Ellora’s Cave title called Manaconda. And yes, the cover had a sexy guy backside with a big snake curled around it. Maddie claimed it was her “favorite” book about snakes. I was just glad she’s still on basic spelling, words like “ran” and “saw.”

So what is a book addict to do? Short of letting go? What do you do when your bookshelves get out of control?

My Favorite Thing About Writing...

By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye

I love being a writer…I mean, what’s not to love? I get to sit at my computer all day wearing my pajamas and eating bonbons whilst playing spider solitaire in between writing sessions. How many other people can use the word whist and come off as witty and not pretentious? Let’s face it, you pretty much have to be a writer in order to pull that off.

One of my favorite things about writing is research. Now, if you’re picturing me in some dark and dusty library, you’re way off base. No, I have my own form of research. I like to immerse myself in it 100%.

A little over a month ago I sat in my office trying to work. It was a Sunday morning and the whole family—three teenagers, the dog, my three-legged cat, my husband and even my daughter’s best friend and our neighbor— saw fit to join me. I typed away, writing my book and doing my best to ignore the fact that everyone was doing the utmost to make it an impossible endeavor, my husband piped up. “I have this plane ticket to use by the 12^th or we’ll lose it. Robin, maybe you should take a weekend trip to Boise.” My head peeked up over my monitor. “Really?” I asked. My fingers flew across the keyboard, bringing up the airline’s website. One quick call to my best friend in Boise and a ticket was purchased for the weekend two weeks hence. After all, I had a conference that next weekend, and really, the only thing better than a conference weekend is a research weekend.

My next series of books, Domestic Gods Gone Wild take place in and around Boise, so I really did have research to do, so off to Boise I flew. My friend picked me up at the airport and we headed down Capital Boulevard toward downtown. It was a beautiful fall evening and everyone was out and about enjoying First Thursday. We ate a delightful meal outside the Bitter Creek Ale House, drinking in the beer…um I mean atmosphere. When my friend asked what I wanted to do during my stay. I told her that I had to go to Humpin’ Hannah’s—the real bar my fictional favorite character, Karma Kincaid owns in my books. This was work, you know. I did my best to look put upon as I watched the people come and go. I breathed the fresh dry air and thought I never wanted to leave.

A few months before, I had been going over my copy edits for Yours for the Taking, and it occurred to me that since I planned to have Karma own Humpin’ Hannah’s—the absolute coolest bar in Boise—I might need the permission of the owners. I called my editor and sure enough, she confirmed my fear. I racked my brain to come up with another name for the bar I loved so much, but they all paled in comparison. You gotta’ admit that Humpin’ Hannah’s is a pretty amazing name. So, I picked up the phone and called the bar to ask the owners if I could have permission to use the bar’s name in the book.

Darcy, Todd, and Dick, the owners of Humpin’ Hannah’s, were wonderful and gave me permission, thus putting my editor’s mind at ease. I promised I’d send them a box of books, and buy some of the Humpin’ Hannah’s t-shirts to give away on my blog tour. Todd sent a release to my editor and made me promise to stop in the next time I was in town.

That very next day, my friend and I headed to Hannah’s to fulfill my promise. I had an advanced readers copy of Yours for the Taking in which Humpin’ Hannah’s was featured and containing my thanks for the use of their wonderful bar in the acknowledgements. I walked under the Humpin’ Hannah’s flag I remembered so well, and into the brick front bar on Main Street—one of my favorite places in Boise. I went right up to the bar and asked if Todd was there. A nice looking-guy smiled and shook his head. “No, Todd’s not working today.” I was bummed. I mean, there I was all the way from Maryland and the first time up at base I struck out. I put the book down on the bar. “I’m Robin Kaye, the author, and I’m in town for a few days…” The man turned beat red. “Oh my God.” He said. “I’m Todd. I thought you were here to sell me something. I almost told you my name was Ernie, he’s our janitor.”

Todd, Dick, and Darcy, were all in attendance that afternoon which was an oddity.








I took pictures, had a few drinks with the regulars, and even scored hockey tickets to a Stealhead game! The Stealheads won 5 – 3, there were a lot of good fights (the sign of a great hockey game) and even few gushers which was awesome because we had seats in the second row on the center line just above the players so we saw everything.

I rounded out the weekend driving through Boise, looking longingly at the foothills and wishing I had a few more days to take a trip in the mountains. We watched the Boise State Bronco’s annihilate Toledo 57-14 in Bronco Stadium—the stadium my husband built,
ate at Goldy’s and Bar Gernika in the Basque area, and I longed to move back.

Like after all great research trips, I came home with a lot of new ideas, a bunch of T-shirts to give away on my blog tour which begins next month, and a renewed sense that I am truly doing what I’m meant to be doing; writing in my pajamas and dreaming of other places I want to research. Next Stop: Red Hook, Brooklyn, NY!

Girl's Writer's Weekend

Nine years ago when I started writing, I met two girls at the local romance writing group and we become critique partners and best friends. Thus ensued many, many years of getting together at a hotel the night before the romance writer's meeting and spending the night drinking wine and talking shop. It was incredible fun. Then one of the girls moved out of state. Yeah, I'm happy that her husband got a better job, and the family's quality of life improved, and the grandkids are near their grandparents, but I still mourn the loss of our Friday nights.

So last week, the out-of-town girlfriend came to visit for girl's writer's weekend. The other girlfriend had purchased a lake house and we headed out there on Friday for our writing retreat. Here's a shot of the deck where we spent much time:
So just the three of us and three glorious days of no responsibilities, no chores, no husbands and kids. (pets were optional) We had plenty of time to drink coffee, sip wine, watch movies, and most importantly, catch up on each others lives and talk about writing!

Because we were all in the same place and had one person's rough draft to critique, I suggested we critique openly with discussion of the sticking points we'd run into. That turned out to be a fabulous learning experience as we fed off each other to not only identify the problems with the rough draft, but come up with fabulous solutions. If only we were all in the same state and could do that weekly!

We had such a good time that we're going to try and do a writer's trip at least once a year. We've already come up with a list of places we'd like to go. The only downside of the weekend was that it ended far too quickly. :(

So how was your weekend? Do you have girl's getogethers?

Deadly DeLeon