"¦and I’m still stuck in Genovia on Winter Break.

And guess what they don’t have in Genovia?

My book.

I’m serious. I’m not trying to start an international incident or anything, but SOMEONE has put the kibosh on sales of Ransom My Heart over here.

And I totally know why, too.

And it’s NOT FAIR.

It’s like I told Grandmére, Ransom My Heart is a very humorous and moving romance about a young girl’s sexual awakening in the year 1291. What’s not to love? I mean, this reader liked the book, enough to blog about it, and I don’t even know her!

And my friend Tina Hakim Baba told me People Magazine gave it 4 stars!
She even sent a picture of the review that she took with her very own iPhone!

SO WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY OWN FAMILY????

Why can’t they just accept me for what I am–a romance writing princess, who also happened to restore democracy to her principality, while keeping her royal title, much like Prince Albert of Monaco, only not bald?

I think Grandmére is just embarrassed by some of the steamier passages in the book. Like the one on page 129 that goes:

Suddenly, he was kissing her even more urgently, his hands traveling down her sides, past her hips, until they cupped those leather-clad buttocks and lifted her full up against him.

Her firm breasts crushed against his chest, her thighs clenched tightly around his hips, Hugo molded Finnula against him, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her throat. The sensuous reaction he’d evoked from her amazed and excited him, and when she held his face between both her hands and rained kisses upon him, he groaned, both from the sweetness of the gesture and the fact that he could feel the heat from between her legs burning against his own urgent need.

Holding her to him with one arm, he swept open the collar of her shirt and placed a hand over her heart, feeling the silken heaviness of her breast. Finnula let out another sound, this one a sigh of such longing that Hugo could not stifle a wordless cry of eagerness, and he looked about for a pile of hay thick enough for them to lay in….

….and turned to see the witless Evan standing in the open barn doorway, his jaw slack, his ears as red as fire as he stared at them.

I mean, I get that Grandmére is embarrassed because I wrote about an incredibly handsome, dry-witted earl touching the boobs of the equally strong-willed hot-blooded minx who has kidnapped him and all. But Grandmére just needs to relax. It’s not like she’s never been there.

Anyway, it’s becoming very clear to me now that I need to get back to the US, and pronto. Not only because of the totally unfair embargo of Ransom My Heart here in Genovia (and don’t think I don’t know you’re behind it, Grandmére! Also that you read this blog, which is why it looks this way instead of being cool with hot pink skulls on it), but because there’s all this promotional stuff going on for my book! And I’m missing out!

Oh, and also because of Dad.

And I’m not even going to get into all that. Honestly, how much more can a girl be expected to take?

Oh, and did I mention"¦.

THANKS SO FOR BUYING MY BOOK—I’m more grateful than you’ll ever know (ALL the author proceeds go to Greenpeace. And the paper it’s printed on is 100% recycled—no joke).

You’ve made all this princess’s dreams come true.

Also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Love,

Mia