First, let it go on record that I am not responsible for the forecast of snow this coming Sunday, even though I worship the stuff and put the mojo out there with my current release.
I was born a snow baby. I’ve lived in Minnesota all my life. I’ve had a love affair with snow since I could toddle about on my own. Love the white stuff. Used to spend all day playing in it as a kid. Most of my life I lived up north, about two hours south of the Canadian border, in Thief River Falls, home of Arctic Cat. My parents used to race snowcats. (Yep, the correct term is snowcat if you’re from Thief River Falls, not a snowmobile or—shudder—snowmachine, as some Alaskans like to name them.) Each year we’d get outfitted head to toe in our new Arctic Cat snowsuits (Mine was purple; easier to find me in the snow.) Dad will shovel the driveway (no snowblower back then), which would leave drifts six to eight feet high lining the drive. Give me and my brother a shovel, or a plastic bucket and we’d start digging holes in those drifts until we had ourselves a cozy little snowfort. My Mom used to call us in when we were out playing in the snow after a few hours.
It’s not that we were getting frostbite, or too cold (when you’re nestled in a snowfort it’s nice and toasty). She just wanted to see us, we’d been out for so long. Me and my brother would cast each other wary glances, then eye the door wistfully. “Can we go back out now, Mom?”
Yeah, snow. It’s good. I think it runs in my veins. Flakes that is, not ice water. (Try to hold back the jokes, please.)
It’s no surprise to me that I wrote a story about snow, frost and cold winter nights set in a cabin up north in Minnesota. It was inevitable. My hero? Jack Frost. A god/faery/shapeshifter who is made of frost, but when he touches human flesh, he takes on human shape and flesh. He’s just looking for some warmth. My heroine? A self-described snowflakeologist. She photographs snowflakes because she’s in love with snow (just like moi). I got the idea for her occupation from my collection of snowflake photography books by Kenneth Libbrecht. The dude takes pictures of snowflakes, people. And they rock. He uses colored lighting to enhance the fine details of the precious flake, and works swiftly (before his subject melts). So I decided to set my heroine on a quest to find those elusive two snowflakes that are exactly alike. Will she find them? You’ll have to read the story to find out. 🙂
A Kiss Of Frost is my novella in the WINTER KISSED duet with Vivi Anna. I wrote this story last winter when the snow blanketed the world and sparkled outside my window. Jack Frost had written all over my windows, enticing me to wonder what kind of love letters he was sending to me—and then it happened.
I fell out of love with winter. Gasp!
Hmm… How to have my snow and warmth too? I think I’d truly miss winter if I moved. But is it too much to ask for a few less months of cold? Let’s push back winter until December and end it in March. Whatdaya say?
I saw WINTER KISSED in WalMart yesterday, so it’s out there already! Tell me what your favorite season is, and why, and I’ll pick one commenter to win a copy of WK, and announce it tomorrow.