
I have dedicated every single published novel to my husband. We’ve been together from the beginning, and every book is dedicated to him. He’s been my biggest supporter, my biggest fan (who doesn’t actually read my books, but he’s listened to me talk about them all through my planning stage and writing, so he figures it’s just as good) and has been at the heart of every romance I’ve written.
And then one day, our son said, “Hey, why don’t you dedicate books to me?” Since I was writing romances, that wouldn’t always be appropriate, but when it was, I started dedicating books to both of them.
If you’re a reader who notices dedications, you’ll notice that about mine.
Now, both my husband and my son have gotten used to this state of affairs. When one of my books comes out, I get my box of books, and I show them the dedication. They like it, don’t get me wrong, but the newness of it has worn off. They simply expect it. Of course, my books will be dedicated to them.
And perhaps that is just a sign that I’ve loved them well. They know they’re the heart of everything I do. They know they’re my top priority. They know how much I love them. But that said, I’m willing to bet there aren’t another two men in Western Canada that have as many books dedicated to them! And if I ever stopped dedicating my books to them, they’d be deeply wounded.
So this is the state of affairs in the Johns home. The men here get books dedicated to them. And they take it entirely for granted. 😉
But it doesn’t change facts. They are the shining heart of everything I do. Always have been. Always will be.


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