My most romantic life story by Helen A Rosburg, author of Blaze of Lightning, Roar of Thunder, Lady Blue.

GHOST:

It was my birthday and I was doing what I love: working on one of my novels. It was an unpleasant interruption when my husband, James, insisted on taking me out to lunch. On the way, my irritation increased when he stopped at his sculpture studio.

Why? What now?” I asked.

“Just hold on. Wait in my office. I’ll come right back in there and get you.”

Reluctantly, I complied.

James returned. Naked.

Jaw dropping, I let him lead me into his studio where “Unchained Melody” was playing on his stereo. A potter’s wheel had been set up with a lump of clay. He led me to the stool by the wheel and sat me down. As the haunting theme to the movie Ghost played on, he stood behind me and reenacted the movie’s most memorable scene. With his hands guiding mine, we shaped a vase.

Oh. My.

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My most romantic life story by Elizabeth Sinclair, author of Garden of the Moon.

It was June 10, the night of our fifteenth wedding anniversary. My husband and I had decided to celebrate alone in one of our favorite spots. We moored our houseboat in a quiet, secluded cove off the Hudson River. The cove was deserted, except for an old barge someone had dragged into a small inlet and renovated into living quarters.

The clear night sky sparkled with trillions of stars, and a balmy breeze barely tickled the flame of the candle in the center of the table we’d set for dinner on the bow of the boat. The only sounds were the faint chirp of crickets on the shore and the gentle lap of the water on the hull. In the galley, lobster tails and steak were cooking for the anniversary feast. Two cocktails of plump, pink shrimp and a bottle of white wine chilled in the fridge.

As we sat down to enjoy our dinner, the sound of beautiful music filled the still night. When we checked to see where it was coming from, we found the man who owned the barge sitting on its bow with his cello. As if prearranged, he played throughout our dinner and stopped only when we’d finished eating. Neither of us ever forgot that night and look back on it now as one of the most romantic of our marriage, thanks to a stranger’s serenade.

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My most romantic life story by Catherine Kean, author of The Knight’s Series.

My honeymoon in Oxfordshire, England, was one of the most romantic times of my life. My husband and I married in Canada, but since we had friends and relatives in the UK who couldn’t attend the ceremony, we decided to have a second reception in England. I knew he and I were going to spend a few days together somewhere before this celebration, but my husband stubbornly refused to say where. After we flew to the UK, he rented a car and off we went. I was completely clueless as to our destination, which was both exciting and rather unnerving. I was more than thrilled when we ended up at the beautiful Weston Manor Hotel, an exquisite building with old, wooden panels and creaky floors that dates back to the eleventh century. My husband, knowing how much I love history, historic sites, and antiques, thought this would be the perfect getaway. He was right! We walked the lovely gardens, ate delicious gourmet dinners every night, and toured the local sights. It was perfect in every way! I loved it so much that a few years ago, while we were vacationing in England at the time of my birthday, my husband booked us a stay in a historic manor hotel in Stratford-Upon-Avon, Warwickshire, the birthplace of William Shakespeare. I feel incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful man as my husband. This year, we’ll celebrate our seventeenth Valentine’s Day as a married couple.

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You Light Up My Life by Kathy Carmichael, author of Hot Flash, Diary of a Confessions Queen

I remember with crystal clarity the moment I fell in love with my husband.

You see, I'm electromagnetic, as my grandmother was before me. The earliest sign of my electromagnetism came when I was in elementary school. I received a wristwatch for Christmas, and I couldn't get it to work properly. Sometimes it was fast, sometimes it was slow, but very rarely was it the correct time.
Another way my overly magnetic personality shows up is when I'm highly creative. The clock on my computer goes nuts, the streetlight in front of my house goes out, headlights of oncoming vehicles go out, and even stadium lights go dark. Most especially, lights in my house burn out.

One of my friends always wanted to introduce me to her neighbor John, but he was never home when I visited her. Then the apartments where I lived hired a new manager—and guess what. It was John.

One day when I was writing, all of the lights in my kitchen and living room burned out. It was too dark to see, so I took my writing notebook downstairs to the patio by the swimming pool.

John saw me working and came out of his apartment to say hi.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing a short story."

"Aren't you worried about getting soaked?"

Sure enough, when I looked up (I was in total "writing mode," which means everything around me pretty much disappears), I saw storm clouds brewing, and fine drops of moisture had already begun falling. "Darn."

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I guess I have to stop working now." I grabbed my notebook and stood. "It's too dark in my apartment to write. All the lights have burned out."

"You can write in my apartment," he offered.

"That's okay. I probably need to get going. See you later."

I went back upstairs and settled down to watch TV, disappointed that I had to stop writing when the muse was being so friendly.

A short time later, there was a knock at the door. When I answered it, John stood there smiling. He held a small sack in his hands. "Can I come in?"

"Sure."

"I brought you a present." He held out the bag.

"You did?" I took the bag and peeked inside. "Lightbulbs!"

"I brought you a dozen. I hated the idea that you had to stop writing. I'll change them for you."

And at that moment, I realized what a truly wonderful man he was. Lots of guys had given me gifts: flowers, jewelry, candy. But John was the first guy to really pay attention. He'd brought me the perfect gift to win my heart.

We’ve been married for thirty years, and to this day, he never complains when I'm in "writing mode" and all of the lights burn out. He simply heads to the pantry, grabs new lightbulbs, and begins replacing them.

He literally lights up my life!