Paris.

The name of the city conjures up more than a thousand years of history and culture. Arguably the cultural heart of the wold — “the cultural heart of the universe,” as one Parisian said — it is kind of a mythical place to artists of all kinds. To have a book signing in Paris...

On Feb. 15, I had the amazing good fortune to sign books at Café Bibliothéque at the François Mitterrand Library in Paris. The signing was put together by a small group of wonderful people, especially Karen Harroch of Au Boudoir Ecarlate, who worked in conjunction with the wonderful staff of my French publisher, J’ai Lu, and Fabiola Chenet and Les Romantique.

The experience was amazing. In my imagination, I somehow managed to brush up on French in time to answer all questions en français. Alas, although my linguistic skills were a disappointment, the event itself was not. The room was filled with wonderful people who asked interesting and fun questions. Bridget Costedoat, my new BFF from Great Britain, translated the questions I couldn’t understand or hear and then translated my answers.


So many of the French readers I’ve met on Facebook were there. It was a special privilege to meet them in person, to hear their voices, shake their hands, exchange bisous, to see their smiles. There were a handful of I-Team members present, as well, and we posed together for our own special photo.

It might surprise most American readers to know that the French love my historicals especially. The I-Team series is only now being released there, so many French readers haven’t read any of the stories.

I ended up signing books and bookmarks as fast as I could for more two hours until it was time to leave and was able to have photos taken with many of my reader friends.



It was extra special to have Benjamin there. He ended up having what looked like a lively and fun conversation with the wonderful women from J’ai Lu.

I wore my grandmother’s wedding ring to the signing. A talented student, she’d won some kind of scholarship to study in France but never got the chance. Her parents fell ill with diphtheria, and then she married and had six kids. She never got to see France, let alone Paris. Wearing her ring felt like having her with me, too.

Merci beaucoup, Karen! Merci, J’ai Lu! Merci, Fabiola!

And thank you, Paris, for giving me such a warm welcome and a wonderful memory.