Guest blogger Mindy Klasky is the author of six fantasy novels, including the award-winning, best-selling The Glasswrights’ Apprentice and numerous short stories. Her latest novel, Girl’s Guide to Witchcraft, is a lighthearted, fictional tale featuring a love-struck D.C. librarian who discovers she’s a witch. A portion of proceeds from the sale of Girl’s Guide will benefit First Book.

Books are responsible for my marriage.

OK. That might be an exaggeration. But not much of one.

I met my husband, Mark, in January 2002, using match.com. (Insert long, boring story of all of my previous disastrous dates.) Mark was the first match that came up. He immediately caught my interest because he said that his idea of a perfect Sunday was to spend the day curled up on the couch, reading, with an endless cup of coffee and a conversation companion by his side.

I knew that Mark and I needed to meet in person, soon. We couldn’t delay too long, letting fake images of each other grow in our minds.

But books got in the way. My third novel, Season of Sacrifice, had just been released, and I was traveling to readings almost every weekend. I had my annual “Beach Babes” West Palm Beach writerly get-together with fellow authors Nancy Kress and Claudia Bishop. I had a manuscript to deliver for The Glasswrights’ Journeyman.

Throughout all those bookish distractions, Mark and I corresponded by email. Every one of his electronic missives was dissected by the Beach Babes — what did he mean when he said he loved The Lord of the Rings? Was it a good sign that he read the New York Times Book Review every weekend?

At last, Mark and I managed to schedule dinner in person at a tiny Thai restaurant near both our homes. We met in the parking lot, then feasted on satay, basil chicken, and pad prik king. And the meal was over too soon. Much too soon.

I had enjoyed Mark’s company, his conversation, his stories, his enthusiasm. I wasn’t ready for our first date to end. So, I grasped the proverbial bull by the horns and invited Mark to join me at our local Borders Books & Music for “dessert coffee”. We drove to the store in separate cars (a girl has to be careful, after all!) We ordered coffee and sweets, but we couldn’t sit in the café, which was overcrowded by a group enjoying a quartet — yes, a quartet — of flutes.

And so we escaped to a back aisle in the store, to the O’Reilly computer books. There, surrounded by fine pen-and-ink drawings of animals and uber-geeky text, we talked. And talked. And talked. And we set our second date for the next night. And our third for the night after that.

And, about ten months later, Mark proposed to me. At our Borders. In the back of the store. Surrounded by O’Reilly computer books. It only seems appropriate that we return to Borders for any excuse of a celebration — a birthday, a new job, a book release. And, of course, our anniversary.