On its way to publication, though, one of the many editors who passed on the manuscript, nonetheless liked it well enough to hand it off to a friend at Berkley Prime Crime, who called with a question. Of course, this time the advice was right on.Ī Cutthroat Business was not an easy sell, although it got there in the end. In an ironic twist on what happened five years earlier, someone told me that books about realtors are notoriously hard to sell, but I’d learned my lesson from last time, so of course I didn’t listen. So I wrote what I knew, a mystery about a new-minted real estate agent who walks into an empty house and finds a dead body. There was precious little of that commodity in my own life, with two boys under six underfoot, and with two boys under six underfoot, violence was a bigger part of my daily life than sex, anyway. I went back to writing eventually, once my eldest son started school and the youngest got lonely enough to welcome the idea of daycare, but I no longer felt the urge to write romance. and pretty soon I decided I’d better get a real estate license, because the way we were buying and selling houses, someone was getting rich, but it wasn’t me. And then we sold that house and bought another, and then another, and then another. Because it was our first house and we were poor as the proverbial church mice, I did things like refinish the floors and paint the walls and re-glaze the tub while the kids were napping.
Instead, we bought a cheap little house in what’s diplomatically called a ‘transitional neighborhood,’ and I became a stay-at-home mom.
I got pregnant, had a couple of kids, and didn’t write for a few years.
I was having sex regularly), and someone had told me it was easy to get published in romance. Back 10 years ago or so, when I first decided to try my hand at becoming an author, I thought I’d write romance novels.
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