In the prologue, Gilbert introduces us to the book's namesake, Megan Bourne, a writer, part-time college teacher, student of Southwest Native American cultures; surprisingly a transplant from Indiana. Between the inklings of her life in the prologue and the return to the same place and time in the Epilogue, we see why she was looking back: the seemingly star-blessed close encounter with Brian Fleming, a Chicago public school system administrator and what happened as sparks flamed brightly but all-too-briefly.

The author clearly knows his territory: the Chicago metro area and the territory around Rio Rancho, a actual New Mexico city northwest of Albuquerque. In this fictional accounting, its school system serves children from several diverse Native American tribes. Those efforts are the purpose for Brian Fleming's mid-December visit. His goal is to learn enough during an initial short visit, as he observes the city's school mateals and methods, with side-trips to Native American enclaves and shrines, to begin formulating a strategy for teaching the same rich history to Chicago metro students. And if he had not wandered into the local newspaper office to place an ad for an assistant early into his visit to Rio Rancho, he would not have met Megan Bourne . . . . . . and I would be reviewing 200 pages of blank white paper.

If the torrid love scenes were any hotter, each copy of this book would come with its own pair of Ov Gloves. Both Megan and Brian are formerly married; legally liberated from young vows. Romance lovers will understand that not only is discovering the joys of true lust part and parcel of the genre; engaging it as often is possible is what makes a good romance novel and not Jane Eyre warmed over with salsa and chips.

Though a few known names filter through the fiction format (Navajo, Lone Ranger and the highway designations to name a few) the cultural elements, names of schools, foods served, could go either way. Author GIlbert narrates smoothly outside the boudoir, and that's okay. The narrative is straight as a New Mexico highway; nothing pretentious or awkward in names and narrative. There is enough reality in Gilbert's writing for us to understand he has planted his feet on that turf; not picked it up from Gene Autry movies; not that there's anything wrong with them.

Overall there is more on Gilbert's "platter" than most will "eat up" in one cozy evening's unhurried encounter. That means good value for the romance novel dollar. You won't find the book to be an introduction to the plight of Native Americans in the 21st Century, but catching just a whiff of "the scents of it all" may inspire you to further learning in that direction beyond this book. Gilbert neither decries nor deifies anyone (with the possible exception of Brian Fleming) but delivers instead an engaging love story. In the haunting afterglow of the final page, I consider my hours with Megan's Love time well spent. I bet you will, too.,

Job Conger
Journalist
Springfield, IL