To the boys in the band

At a recent Christmas party, I quite naturally fell into a behavior I'd never considered: I gave my name and contact info to a "boy in the band."

Nevermind the party was of the corporate nature, the "boy" was nearly as old as I, or my husband watched me do it... I wrote it all down on a cocktail napkin--of all things!--and handed it over just as they were starting their second set.

The evening had gone something like this: greeting old friends, catching up, small talk, a glass of wine, buffet. Losing track of the spouse while he worked the other side of the room and sitting at an empty table. Others join me. I don't know them.

It's the band.

I've written six books about a rock band, my Texoma series. I deal with stereotypical bad behavior and non-stereotypical redemption and reformation. All of my five bad boys are saved by the power of love. And here I was sitting with a genuine band. How could I resist telling them what I do?

I can't say they were fascinated, but they were good listeners, especially the one who ended up with my cocktail napkin. Come to find out he was the son of an Episcopal priest. He knew all about redemption and reformation.

And if he follows the links on that napkin, he'll know I do too.