I first discovered Sabrina Jeffries in the checkout line at a Meijer store in Michigan over a decade ago. Seduced by the purple cover of a book that promised mystery, adventure and a happy ending, and grateful that the clinch cover art had been relegated to the back, The Dangerous Lord made it into my grocery cart. At home I let the groceries spoil on the counter while I devoured the book instead of foodstuffs.
I’d gotten hooked on romances during a six-month stay in France, where the only free things to read in English were some abandoned romance novels and a couple of Stephen King books that had been torn in half. Instead of learning French, I spent my time discovering that Jayne Ann Krentz and Betina Krahn were crack for English majors: fast and fun, leaving you wanting more as soon as the high wore off. It was only a matter of time before I started spending my textbook money on romances.