
Sometimes the idea for a story catches me completely by surprise.
Such was the case for my wholesome rom-com that releases next week.
Last February, I was sitting at my desk, looking outside at the cold, wintery day, and wondering why we don’t plan vacations to sunny locales during the coldest months of the year, when an email popped into my inbox from my dad’s cousin, J/J.
J/J loves to go on cruises. In fact, at the time, he was on a multi-week, back-to-back series of cruises in the Caribbean.
When I saw an email from him, I thought, “Oh, fun! More news from someplace where it is warm and sunny and you don’t have to put on wool socks just to go get the mail.”
The email read:
“Is there any chance in the future I might see a book about romance on the high seas where a cowboy takes a cruise to some exotic location?”
After reading that question, I couldn’t help myself. My imagination shifted into high gear and I began brainstorming story ideas.
What if there was a cowboy from someplace cold, going to spend time with his grandmother who lived someplace warm, and the grandma—being an eccentric ol’ gal—drags him onto a cruise without giving him any warning or opinions on the matter? From there, the ideas kept rolling.
I’ve never been on a cruise, but, thankfully, J/J was so kind to answer my many questions and share day-to-day cruising details with me. For a week, I almost felt like I was right there on the cruise ship. J/J was also kind enough to save a bunch of information he received on the cruise, like their daily planners, and mail them to me when he returned home. There was so much great information that he shared, and I tried to work in as much as I could into the story.

A cowboy, a cruise, and a meddling grandma—what could go wrong?
JJ McKade expected to spend two weeks with his grandmother at her condo in sunny Florida, celebrating her birthday. Instead, he got shanghaied by his mischievous grandma on a Caribbean cruise—complete with hot pink luggage, a gaggle of giggling octogenarians, and a humiliating childhood nickname haunting his every move.
Between meddling matchmakers, unexpected friendships, and the endless chaos of cruise life, JJ can’t help being drawn to Kinsley Kline, the ship’s enchanting horticulturist. There’s just one catch: crew fraternizing with passengers is strictly forbidden.
With only a few months left in her contract aboard The Affinity, Kinsley can’t let anything rock her boat or derail her plans. Then the arrival of a hunky cowboy on the ship makes her question if some rules are meant to be broken, and a little boat rocking is a good thing.
From sun-drenched beaches to moonlit strolls, JJ and Kinsley must decide if an onboard romance can last on land, and if love is worth risking their hearts.
Packed with laughter, longing, and a grandmother who refuses to play by the rules, Roped Into Paradise is a heartwarming and wholesome romantic comedy about family, hope, and finding love where you least expect it. Perfect for fans of witty banter, unexpected romance, and cruise ship escapades that sweep you off your feet.

Here’s a little excerpt from the book:
JJ tugged on the only pair of clean jeans he’d packed in his bag and unrolled a green plaid western shirt, fastening the snaps with one hand while using the other to finger-comb his hair. In the adjoining bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water and brushed his teeth, then he moseyed into the kitchen, lured by the scent of coffee.
“Here,” Grams said, shoving a travel mug into his hand. “You can drink that on the way.”
“On the way to where?” he asked, taking a long, bracing sip of coffee so strong and black, he could feel it peeling away layers of tissue as it traveled down his throat.
“The store, JJ. Do try to keep up,” Grams said, snagging her car keys off a hook by the door that led into her garage. She gave him a look that clearly conveyed her thoughts that he was hopeless as he stumbled over the step into the garage. “I’ll drive.”
He thought about arguing, but refrained. Until the caffeine kicked in, he wasn’t sure he could find his way out to the end of the driveway.
Ten minutes later, Grams pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of a superstore that sold everything from fried chicken to pontoon boats. Hungry as he was, the fried chicken didn’t sound all that bad, even if it was a grease-soaked remnant from yesterday’s offerings.
Confused as to why they were at the store before most of the population was even awake, JJ took another long drink of coffee and then set the mug in the cupholder of the SUV.
“Why on earth are we here?” he asked as he got out of the vehicle and walked with his grandmother to the door.
“We can’t go on the boat ride until you are properly outfitted.”
“Boat ride? Outfitted?” JJ thought maybe he’d dreamed the part about Grams mentioning a boat ride last night. Did he really need new attire for a ride around the lake? Usually, they took a fishing charter cruise around the lake at some point during his visit. Cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and an old pair of sneakers would work just fine for that. “What are you talking about, Grams?”
“I told you I booked a boat ride, JJ. Aren’t you listening?” Grams asked as though he were five and incapable of paying attention.
He watched as his grandmother snagged a shopping cart from the row of them outside the door, set her purse inside, and grabbed his arm in one seemingly smooth motion as she marched inside the store.
“What kind of boat ride requires getting up this early in the morning to come shopping here, of all places, so I can be properly outfitted? Last I checked, you and Mom would both develop acute hives if you had to purchase your wardrobe here.”
Grams smiled at the greeter standing near the door and made a beeline for the men’s clothing. JJ hoped he could still move with as much agility as his grandmother had when he was her age. Then again, she attended a yoga class three times a week and took pride in walking at least a mile every day.
“It means, JJ, that we are boarding a cruise ship at half past ten this morning and setting sail for the Caribbean. You need clothes for an eleven-day trip. From the pathetic contents of your duffel bag, you’ll be forced to wash your undies in the bathroom sink every other day. You should have listened when your mother suggested you pack a suitcase with plenty of clothes, baby. Now, stop dawdling and get to shopping.” Grams pointed to a rack of cargo shorts.
Releasing January 29!
If you could snap your fingers and be on a dream vacation today, where would you go and what would you see?
Post your answer for a chance to win a $5 Amazon Gift Card!


I was on a writer retreat with my bestie, Liz Flaherty a couple of weeks ago. It was fabulous. We wrote, we drank wine, we ate chocolate, we talked, we processed her book and mine. Our retreats are always as Liz puts it,
We talked about the little pieces of ideas that wander through our writer minds—snippets of conversations, words, things we notice that perhaps no one else notices. We share ideas about settings, even as minute as the furnishings in a specific house in a setting. That got me thinking about where my random ideas rest in my imagination—on a chintz chair, I think. Faded old flowered fabric on a huge overstuffed chair sitting in a sunny spot under the eaves. Maybe there’s an ottoman, but it doesn’t have to match because honestly, my decorating style, like my writing style, is as random as my ideas. So why would I imagine something that matches?
Everyone has word pictures in their minds—and often it takes just seeing a pair of fancy cowboy boots in a store in West Yellowstone, Montana, or a rusty pump on a ranch in Virginia City for a story to start to happen.










When
In late July, I left my local airport at 8:30 a.m.; Carol left her local airport 10:15 a.m. and we met up in the Denver Airport. Then we flew together to Bozeman–one of the cutest airports I’ve ever seen! There are bears and moose everywhere and some crazy huge bird hanging from the ceiling! The whole airport was mountain stone and cedar beams–really pretty and lodge-y (If that’s not a word, it should be). We also saw the coolest ad for a fishing outfitters that felt like the universe was telling me that moving from River’s Edge to Montana is a capital idea! Take a look!
There are 64 mountain ranges in Montana and our condo was nestled right in the middle of the Madison Range at an altitude of 7000 feet. Lone Mountain was visible from Big Sky as well as several other mountain ranges, including the Gallatin Range and the Absaroka Range, which are part of Marietta lore.
We spent two days of our week at Yellowstone National Park, which is just overwhelming and spectacular! Carol used the term “moonscape of boiling mud and geysers” to describe the Fountain Paint Pot thermal field and Old Faithful. I can’t think of a better way to say it. It was awe-inspiring and this little Midwestern gal couldn’t stop saying, “Wow!” What a spectacular experience that national park was!
When we drove west to Virginia City the first thing I noticed was that the landscape was so very different from Big Sky. In Big Sky, it’s all huge mountains and pines. As we headed west, the terrain changed to rolling hills and pastures and wheat and hayfields. Junipers dotted the landscape and there were lots of ranches and fences and sagebrush. I absorbed it all–even-saw a ranch that reminded me of what I imagined Del Foster’s ranch to be–and oh, the cows and horses! Virginia City and Ennis were real Old West towns and just steeped in history!
I think the most important thing that we discovered there is how big the world is–Big Sky indeed! The mountains overwhelmed us every time we went outside even though we were only halfway up. We loved tramping to Ousel Falls, so I would have a picture in my head (and on my phone) of what I imagined Juniper Falls to look like. I absorbed Montana and imagined the little town of Marietta in each place we visited. We saw enough cattle ranches and guest dude ranches that I can add some authenticity to my Juniper Falls Ranch stories. The Big Sky area wasn’t as cowboy-centric as I imagined it would be, but the vibe was definitely Western.



























