Her daughter. Her husband. Her boss. Her job. Her home.
These are the loves of Esme Stuart.
She also has a thing for European rock music of the 70s and 80s. Don't get her started on the wild-starred wonder of Bowie or the chameleon-bliss of Queen. This music provides the current on which her intellect floats.
But as to who or what she has a crush on...
I'll be honest with you.
I'm not sure she'd want you to know. It's not that Esme is an intensely private person. No Boo Radley she, but no Emma Woodhouse either. Still, the whims of the heart - and this is what we're discussing, the heart at its most carefree and whimsical - speak in whispers rather than yawps and not without reason, for what could be more personal than a fantasy?
And if it seems as if I'm trying to be difficult and obfuscate the topic, trust me: I am trying to be difficult and obfuscate the topic.
You see, and here's where I've buried the lede, the next novel in the Esme Stuart series, Before Cain Strikes, actually comes out today, and my hope is that suggestive evasiveness will prompt you to buy my novel in the hope that these questions will be answered there (and, actually, they will be).
P.S. When I first agreed - gleefully, I might add - to contribute to this wonderful blog, I promised myself that I'd do as little self-promotion as possible, but heck, how often does a Release Day come in an author's life? Once a year? Twice a year if lucky? Four times a year if Nora Roberts? So I hope you'll forgive my blatancy.
P.P.S. And by the way, I happen to have a little crush on Esme. Is that weird?