Author Spotlight: Christine Columbus

Yes, Christine Columbus is my real name. I was the sixth of seven children, and apparently, they decided that when I was born, they needed a Chris Columbus in the family.

I started writing in high school but didn’t get published until I was in my thirties, with a range of works that include children’s stories, creative nonfiction, poetry, and flash fiction. Then, I stumbled into romance, writing several short stories and a novel with The Wild Rose Press.

Then, I took a fifteen-year break from writing and publishing and traveled the US with my husband, volunteering at National Wildlife Refuges, the Army Corps of Engineers, and Oregon State Parks.

And now, I am thrilled to be back writing, with Chance Meeting available now and I’d Rather Kiss You Goodnight set for release on September 15, 2025. These novels culminate my passion for storytelling, and I look forward to sharing them with you.

Over fifty years ago, I was at a party listening to Billy repeat the same story about how someday he would write a book. He had the best idea… Right then and there, I decided I wouldn’t be the woman repeating the same story about someday wanting to write a novel. I’d rather have a hundred rejection notices than be the person with nothing but an idea.

“Is Melody back yet?”

She gazed beneath the desk. Work boots stood on the threshold of Bill’s office. She stopped breathing as her gaze traveled higher to a pair of denim jeans. She tensed. The construction manager? She inhaled through her nose. Please go away.

Tap, tap, tap.

Paula’s glow-in-the-dark, high-heeled sandals and spray-tanned legs moved next to the boots and jeans.

“She was in her office a moment ago,” Paula said.

Would I rather be a frazzled woman in a coffee-stained sweater or a person who is impossible to get a hold of? Mel sucked on her bottom lip and debated the options. A sharp, hot pain shot down her left calf and seized her thoughts. “Cramp,” she mumbled with a backward, one-legged crawl. “Just so you know, you’re not meeting me at my best.”

A deep chuckle filled the room.

“What are you doing?” Paula shrieked.

Melody didn’t stop crawling until her head cleared the desk. She stood with as much grace as a toddler with an arm full of toys. She met his gaze. Paula is right. He is handsome. She blew a blonde strand of hair from her eyes.

He held out a hand. “Hello, Clayton Westby. And you must be Melody Anderson.”

The sound of a deep male voice shifted my attention to the left. A smile split my lips. This was the same man who walked in behind me. His eyes were the color of a sea before the storm. Never having seen an ocean, I couldn’t swear this was true, but sometimes,

you didn’t have to see something to know it. This was one of those times. This man stirred a mix of emotions in me…a cocktail of curiosity, attraction, and a hint of apprehension.

“Is this seat taken?”

I stared, no longer remembering what the question was.

He pointed a finger at the chair. His shoulders strained against the fabric of the cotton dress shirt.

Warmth spread across my cheeks as I remembered the question. “No, it’s not taken.” His eyes and smile

drew me closer.

The bartender rushed over, sliding chips before him. “What can I get you?”

He tilted his chin to the left. “What is she drinking?”

My stool swiveled toward him. Our knees bumped. But instead of mumbling an apology. I maintained eye contact. “The bartender can’t tell you. It’s like doctor-patient confidentiality. Although if you ask me real nice, then I’ll tell you.” I flashed a toothy smile. Why am I flirting? The sight of my half-empty glass supplied the answer. Bourbon. Instead of shying away or summoning the anger and frustration from two years ago, I sat with a poker face.

The bartender smirked.

He held out a hand. “Ty.”

“Sal.” He had a firm but gentle handshake.