I finished Hot Shot in 2001, in time for RWA National in New Orleans, my first National. I had an appointment with Joan Marlow Golan, who then acquired for Desire.

Hot Shot was 58,000 words. That’s what it took to be a Desire, right?

(I told you I was stupid.)

Er, Desire doesn’t buy stories about a reporter and a firefighter running for their lives on a mountain in Montana.

I don’t think she actually said those words to me – she may have actually asked for the manuscript – but I was stupid. SOOOO not a Desire.

But around this time, I started reading Intimate Moments. I loved Virginia Kantra and Karen Templeton. THIS was what I wanted to write. And Hot Shot seemed a good fit for the line. It only needed…20,000 more words.

Gulp.

But I loved this story. It was the best thing I’d ever written. If I couldn’t invest time in this, I wasn’t a real writer. So I read over it again (you can see why I’m somewhat sick of it at this point.)

I’d missed so many wonderful opportunities! For example, I had Peyton, my heroine, sitting in camp waiting for Gabe, my hero, to return from rescuing girl scouts from a camp.

(Did I TELL you – STUPID STUPID STUPID!)

I rewrote it where she went with him, and damned if the book didn’t become the book I wanted to write, the story I wanted to tell from that point on. With that, I had my hero and heroine alone on the mountain (my M.O.), alternately running for their lives and falling in love.

Tomorrow – the flames…