My Husband is Reading My Book

My author copies of Until I Found You arrived yesterday.  Hooray! My husband took some pictures (posted on  my facebook author page), then later that night he said, "So, honey. Is there a copy of your book I can read?"

"Sure, just take one off the stack on the desk."  And then I gulped.  You see, my husband's opinion matters to me, and he's not a fan of romance.  His tastes run to Elmore Leonard and Cormac McCarthy. I may be the writer in the family, but he's the real reader.

We joked a little more. I said, "Get ready. It's going to keep you up all night," knowing, of course, that it wouldn't.

He joked back,"I thought it would put me to sleep," secretly afraid that it would.

Seventy-five pages later, I stepped away from my Downton Abbey marathon and walked into the bedroom. He looked up and said, "Honey, this is really good. The writing . . ." He gave an appreciative shake of his head. You did a great job."

That praise means as much as that Publishers Weekly review, actually more. We joked around a little about some of the details.  He went back to the book and I went back to Downton Abbley, but the glow stayed with me. The book didn't keep him up all night, but it didn't put him to sleep either.

I'm a happy camper.