An Open Letter to Kristen “Needs a Warning Label” Callihan

February 16, 2012 at 9:06 am (Authors, Open Letter)

Dear Kristen,

     a) Thanks for nothing.

     b) You are so in trouble, young lady!

     c) You owe me, and then some.

     d) All of the above.

I know—you’re thinking, “Hey! What’s with all the bad vibes here? We haven’t even met for the love of Pete!” Well, let me tell you.

Lovely day yesterday. I took a half day from work and planned to hit the Macy’s President’s Day sale. First day of the sale—I’m bound to hit some sweet deals, right?


I get home, change into some power shopping clothes, and make a quick lunch for extra energy. I sit down to my turkey on wheat with Cheetos and diet Dr. Pepper and, rather than flip on the tv, grab a book I’d purchased on Saturday, still sitting on the entry table by my purse and keys.

Yes, it was FIRELIGHT. Your against-all-odds book.

Four hours later my husband’s walking in the door, asking how my shopping went and why am I sitting there reading in the dark. Your book sucked me in so hard and so fast that I eschewed a sale at Macy’s, curled up on the couch, and read until the sun went down.

 A sale at Macy’s! It’s hard for me to even think about it without weeping.

Real life took the evening hours, but Miri and Archer stayed in my head, giving me come-hither smiles and whispering enticing promises to come back. They were cajoling me, Kristen! Cajoling! Is that fair, I ask you? No, I think even you’ll agree it was not.

Yeah, you know what’s coming up, you dark and…and…cajoling scribe of potent words and lush images. I stayed up way too late, unable to put down your heady quicksand of a story until I’d drained every last word and let the essence linger on my tongue.

You want examples? Proof for your kangaroo court? Fine, I’ll give you proof!

  • Page 33—when we get a first taste of how much these two people were meant to be together and ache with them when their vulnerabilities are laid bare.
  • Page 138—yeah. Nothing more to say here.
  • Page 289—Archer’s impassioned declaration? Uh-huh. Yeah—I dare a jury to toss this one out.
  • Page 318—The (redacted) is your gift? (No, I’m not worried about spoilers, I just don’t want any other sucker with plans for the day to fall into the same trap I did. Save yourselves!) How could I not fall even harder for Archer with that, yearn for Miri to get the man she’s always needed?
  • Page 363—I double-dog dare you to hold this up to any court and see who doesn’t side with me. This was simply the most stunning and breathtaking scene I may have ever read.  

I could keep going, but it would just be a listing of page numbers—372 to be exact. I just can’t believe you give me one of the most darkly sensual stories I’ve ever read, combined with the lure of mystery and a supernatural bend, and didn’t insist that your publisher put a warning label on the front!

So, when I start bitching because I need more clothes for work or missed “the dress” I’m looking for for an upcoming wedding, or when my co-workers ask me why I’m so damn cranky today, ignoring their not-so-subtle whispers of maybe another gallon of Dr. Pepper might be in order, or—and let me remind you that you only brought this on yourself—when I start stalking you on Twitter and Facebook for any word, any hint, any promise of a new story, let me only say that it is all your fault.

From one bold enough to tell the truth,


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