It's that time of year again.

Every Christmas season, if I remember, I like to parade out this sweet, funny novel from my romance-writing past. For all its imperfections, I'm very, very fond of it.

I wrote Mrs. Claws -- originally with the subtitle, The Nightsweats Before Christmas -- approximately eight years ago. It was first published through a tiny romance press called Scheherazade Tales (now long gone), then reissued through Cerridwen Press, the demure sister of Ellora's Cave. EC has since developed an imprint called Blush, into which all its Cerridwen titles have been absorbed. (Did you follow that?) Long story shortened:  Mrs. Claws is still available, now as an EC "Blush" title. Click on this post's title to get to the book's page.

Yup, it's an m/f romance, but it isn't saccharine or angsty and contains no explicit sex.

Following is a blurb. Merry Christmas!

Crap, Christmas is coming. That's Lauren's attitude. Why? Because her husband left her for a twit. And because she's dated seventeen losers since her divorce. That's why. "The most wonderful time of the year" doesn't seem all that damned wonderful to her, and she's not in the mistletoe mood. But she wants to be. (Well, okay, her therapist wants her to be.)

In an effort to get her therapist off her back achieve her goal, Lauren applies for a job playing Mrs. Santa Claus. That might get her in the holiday spirit. Unless, of course, the job turns out to be a bigger bite than she can chew, and a major reason for its unchewability is that one of those seventeen losers happens to be playing Santa opposite her -- at a huge shopping mall, no less. Then there are those inevitable encounters with difficult children and parents, the interference of meddlesome friends, and the appearance of an icky ex or two.

Quite a lot to handle for a diehard Grinchette. But if Lauren toughs it out, this grueling season might bring her more than Christmas cheer. It might very well give her the gift of love.