My First Love Event with Grace Burrowes

Grace Burrowes started writing as an antidote to empty nest and soon found it an antidote to life in general. She is the sixth out of seven children, raised in the rural surrounds of central Pennsylvania. Early in life she spent a lot of time reading romance novels and practicing the piano. She wandered from the path of non-stop reading long enough to grab a law degree and open up child advocacy practice, but then she took up her pen and has never looked back. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at graceburrowes.com. 

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My First Love

My first love, like many first loves, came out of nowhere. No explanation, no precedent, no figuring out the why or how. The first gift I can recall my mother giving me was a picture book about pony breeds, and already, as toddler, I was smitten with the equine.

I can’t explain this. Horses are messy, expensive, and sometimes dangerous even when they don’t mean to be. To safely ride a horse requires expertise that you don’t pick up overnight, and equipment that can cost as much as the horse itself. But I was born loving horses and I expect I will go to my eternal reward in the same state.

I was that little kid who read one article in the World Book Encyclopedia over and over—the one about horses. I can’t draw or sketch AT ALL, but I became quasi-proficient at rendering one image—a horse in profile. I have no interest in sports—blech, sweat? Are you nuts?—but I will cheerfully saddle up in hundred degree weather or when there’s a foot of snow on the ground. Time in the saddle, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, is never wasted.

My sainted mother (she had seven kids, so yes, I mean that literally), bought me a horse for my 12th birthday, and my equally sainted godparents (they had six kids without me to add to the strain), had a lovely farm where that horse could enjoy an ideal life. I blush to admit that in my mid-teens, my devotion to the equine wavered enough that I discovered boys.

Big mistake. I would have been better off sticking with the horses. Way led onto way, I grew busy with college and life, and horses were that passion I should have never let go. I was in my mid-thirties single-parenting, running my own law practice, and Not In a Good Place, when the thought popped into my head: When was the last time you were happy? Really, truly, happy?

The answer was easy: When I was a kid on a horse.

I got another horse, I got my daughter a horse (the gene is apparently dominant) and for years, we had a shared activity that saw us through a lot of family challenges. I haven’t always been able to indulge my passion for horses as I’d like to, but lately I’ve connected with a wonderful lesson pony and we have the best fun.

So the next time you read about one of my characters pouring out his or her troubles to a horse, know that as an author, that’s a little bit of my own truth on the page. My own happily ever after will for sure see me riding off into the sunset!

Duncan Wentworth tried his hand at rescuing a damsel in distress once long ago, and he’s vowed he’ll never make that mistake again. Nonetheless, when he comes across Matilda Wakefield in the poacher-infested and far-from-enchanted woods of his estate, decency compels him to offer aid to a lady fallen on hard times. Matilda is whip-smart, she can read Duncan’s horrible penmanship, and when she wears his reading glasses, all Duncan can think about is naughty Latin poetry.

Matilda cannot entrust her secrets to Duncan without embroiling him in the problems that sent her fleeing from London, but neither can she ignore a man who’s honorable, a brilliant chess player, and maddeningly kissable. She needs to stay one step ahead of the enemies pursuing her, though she longs to fall into Duncan’s arms. Duncan swears he has traded in his shining armor for a country gentleman’s muddy boots, but to win the fair maid, he’ll have to ride into battle one more time.

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