Author Spotlight: Meet Romance Author Mary Karlik

I’m happy to welcome new Tule author, Mary Karlik to the spotlight. Mary combines her Texas roots with her Scottish heritage to write happily-ever-afters from Texas to Scotland. She has five indie published contemporary young adult romance novels and two indie-published fantasy novels. Mary earned her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, has a B.S. degree from Texas A&M University, and studied Scottish Gaelic at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig in Skye, Scotland. Mary is an active member of Romance Novelists Association, Romance Writers of America, and Dallas Area Romance Authors. When she is not writing or reading, Mary can usually be found hanging out with family and friends, or hill walking in Scotland while struggling to speak Gaelic with her Scottish husband. Mary lives in both Scotland and Texas.

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Hello Nan’s followers!

First, I want to thank Nan for shinning the spotlight on me. A little about me. I write contemporary romance laced with humor. I am thrilled that my first book with Tule Publishing, Lasso My Heart, was released August 11, 2026. I also have self-published five contemporary young adult novels set in small-town Texas and two romantasy novels about fairy trafficking in the human world set in Scotland. Why Scotland you may ask? Well, I am lucky enough to live in primarily in Scotland and occasionally in Texas.

I met my Scottish husband while studying Gaelic at the Gaelic university, Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, on the Isle of Skye. At the time I had been widowed for thirteen years and although my two girls and encouraged me to “meet someone,” I had declared that I would never give up my selfish independence. Famous last words. The after that declaration, my future husband walked into my life. He asked me to dance at a cèilidh. If you want to know what a cèlidh is, here’s a link to a hilarious description. Warning it has swear words.

Anyway, we were married just seven months after we met and we live in Scotland. But I still travel to the US between two and three times a year. It’s beautiful living in Scotland even through the rain and cold. And we have managed to blend our lives almost seamlessly. I say almost because we don’t exactly speak the same language.

Case in point. We were planning a six-day, one-hundred-mile walk called The West Highland Way. I asked my husband how many pairs of pants he was packing. He said, “One for each day plus one.”

Astonished, I answered, “Seven? Isn’t that overkill. You don’t change your pants every day.”

One hundred percent horrified, he said, “I certainly do. Don’t you?”

“No. And I know you’ve worn those jeans at least two days.”

I thought he was going to injure himself he laughed so hard. When he could speak and breathe again, he managed to say, “You’re talking about trousers. I’m talking about underpants. We never, ever call trousers pants.”

Since then, I’ve learned other differences: scones are not the triangular hard as a rock things sold in many coffee shops. Scones are basically what we call biscuits. And biscuits in Scotland are what we call cookies. Dessert is called pudding in Scotland, and we often have a cheese course after pudding or instead of pudding. A cheese course is never at the beginning of the meal. Tea can mean “come have cup of tea” or it can mean supper.

And as long as were talking about food, I should mention dining conventions. In the south, when we have guest over, after dinner everybody pitches in to help clean up. That’s considered rude in Scotland. The host would never, ever clean up while guests are still in the house. It would be like saying, “Off with you. I’ve had enough. Go home now.”

Seating arrangements are different too. In Texas, if we’re together with other couples, typically the women migrate to one end of the table, the men at the other. Here, it’s boy, girl, boy, girl. Interestingly, we’ve introduced this concept to our American friends, and everybody agrees the conversation at dinner is more enjoyable.

If you watched any of the Tartan Army antics, then you must be aware there is a culture of drinking here. On the main, Scots tend to not cause trouble when they’re out drinking. But the culture is that if you’re in a pub with a group of people, its customary for each person or couple to buy a round.

Driving and drinking is a big nope here. The law is very strict. More than a half pint of beer is over the limit. If you’re pulled over, they will test you, and if the test is over the limit, you get taken in, lose your license for a year for the first offense and possibly jail time. Fortunately, the public transportation system is excellent and there is no stigma attached to it. If we go out to dinner, we always take a bus or walk. That is the norm. Also, it’s considered rude not to thank the bus driver as you’re getting on or off.

As loud as the Tartan Army are, people are generally quiet. They speak quieter and cell phones are not on speaker, or face time in public places. Scots also tend to be self-deprecating and very charming. Nobody would ask how big your house is or how much you make. My husband was asked that question when he first met family and friends in Texas and I’m not sure he’s quite recovered.

Walking is another thing that’s a little different here. Everybody does it. I live in a small village of about fifty houses. We have a pub and a primary school. We often walk to the next village, about two miles away, to go to the doctor or buy a liter of milk. The roads are narrow but most of them have sidewalks—called pavement here—and people are used to seeing bicycles or pedestrians.

People ask me if I’ve eaten haggis and the answer is yes. I’m married to a Scot, and they love their haggis and black pudding. I have been won over. I love it all. Scots also love curry. To me curry is to a Scot as Mexican food is to a Texan. Keith and I spend a lot of time on the western isles (outer Hebrides) and take a lot of ferries. Weirdly the food on the CalMac ferry is really good. It’s cooked fresh. I love the mac and cheese and chips—French fries. It’s a thing.

Do men really wear kilts? Only to sports events, weddings, or very special occasions, unless they’re a tour guide. My husband has a custom-made kilt for formal things and a “shite” kilt for rugby matches.

I could go on and on. If you have questions about my books or Scotland in general or just want to say hello, please don’t hesitate to email me at: mary@marykarlik.com

And if you’d like to join my FB readers group it’s Mary Karlik’s Reader Group. Or join my newsletter .

I’ve made a wee list of other words that you may or may not know.

Police = polis

Truck = lorry

Chips = French fries

Crisps = chips as in potato chips

Pharmacy = Chemist

Doctor’s office = surgery

Surgery = theatre

Taking the piss/mickey = teasing

Bog/toilet = bathroom

Aubergine = eggplant

Courgette = zucchini

Spring Onions = green onions

Rocket = arugula

Coriander leaves = cilantro

Scotch bonnet = is a pepper not a hat and it looks and tastes similar to a habanero

I was…pissed/off my face/on the lash = drunk

NEVER EVER say “He blew me off! Or I blew her off!”

A doctor is a Mister unless they’re a specialist (called consultant here) and then they are referred to as doctor. If they are at the highest level, then they are Professor.

A nurse is often called a sister.  A charge nurse is a matron

Schools are different than in England and although I have friends with kids in school, I don’t understand the system.

Thank you again for letting me chat endlessly about my adopted country.

Mary (Màiri in Gaelic)

GIVEAWAY! Mary is giving away an e-book copy of Lasso My Heart to two lucky commenters. Just tell her in the comments below if you’ve ever been lost in translation as she and her Scottish husband were regarding “pants.”

Lasso My Heart

A rodeo cowboy who’s sworn off love. An optimist who still believes in fairytales. One innocent mistake that could cost them everything.

After more than a dozen epic breakups, physical therapist Lauren Winslow is one teardrop away from locking up her heart forever. A baggage claim mix-up, a swoony cowboy, and the discovery of a love letter meant for someone else convinces her to give love one last shot. The problem? The letter belongs to Rhen McGowan, and Lauren has no idea how to return it without breaking his heart and losing his trust.

Rhen is recovering from a career-ending rodeo injury and rebuilding the therapeutic riding center he nearly lost in his divorce. The last thing he needs is a relentlessly hopeful woman who crashes into his life, charms his family, and makes him feel things he promised himself he was done with.

Their chemistry is instant, irresistible, and impossible to ignore. But when Rhen discovers Lauren kept the letter and lied about it, his fragile trust shatters. Now she must convince him it was an innocent mistake before the past steals their chance at a fairytale future.