They say that books are like an author`s children. I'm not sure who "They" are, precisely, but the sentiment is accurate. Our books are our children. We coddle them, help them walk and talk, care for them and cradle them. We cry over them and with them. And then, after months or even years, we push them out into the world and pray that people like them and that the trolls don`t eat them alive.
I'm filled with bittersweet emotions as my To Love a Wildcat series comes to its close. Over the course of six books, I have fallen in love with each leading lady and man for different reasons: Viviana for her spunk, Liz for her sweet and tender heart, Maggie for her motherly ways with everyone, Isabelle for her glamour and cool sophistication, and Margarite for her inner strength.
While I know that we will have cameos from the Wildcats and their ladyloves in The Venom series, it leaves me feeling a dull sadness. Much like when your only child goes away to college. You know that you'll see that child again, much less frequently sure, but they haven`t left your life completely. Still it aches though. That is how I feel about the 'Cats and the women that love them. I know that I'll see them soon, but until that time comes my life is a little less full than it used to be.
Once more with feeling fans . . .
Let`s Go Wildcats!!