Authors: Jill Barnett
Dear Reader,
I suppose I can breathe a relieved sigh—weaker than one of Lollie’s—because you’ve finished
Just a Kiss Away.
You’ve met Sam and Lollie. I hope you had a good time.
Of course, there’s always the chance that you’re reading the last page first—I do that—and if you are, then I’d better make this compelling so you’ll want to read the whole story. But what can I tell you? We’re strangers, you and I, who meet only through the pages of a book. Should I tell you about my life? Nope. You’d put the book back, after you woke up.
I’m thinking . . . Can you smell the smoke? Let’s see, maybe I should tell you what I want in a book, what’s important to me. Well, here goes . . .
I adore the past. Of course, my husband would tell you that I adore the past because I’ve never done anything on time, and my father would add that my birth was the only time I ever arrived early. With men like that in my life—witty devils—it’s little wonder I believe that love and laughter go hand in hand.
But on to romance . . . I want to read about people who do all those screwball things we do when we’re in love, characters you can laugh at and with, and who seem so real that you feel someone you know is on the page looking out at you. Add to that a taste of the past, tales rich in the flavor of a bygone era, when people loved hard and fought for what they wanted. A book should make you laugh at the antics of an animal, smell the bite of cinnamon in a hot apple pie, hear the joy in a song of the past, and feel a character’s heart ache.
Those are the stories I want to tell. Then maybe you’ll open the book and drift into the pages, forget about today and experience the delights of yesterday, and maybe you’ll smile; that is . . . if I can just get that next book in on time.
—Jill Barnett