This is my first novel by Nora Roberts, I will admit to avoiding her books thinking they were just fluff - Eating my words, which should make some of you very happy. "You'll be mine, and glad of it." "I'll be yours." She lifted her face to the wind. "And glad of it." Born in Fire is the first in the Born In Trilogy about three sisters (haven't met the third yet) set in Ireland, woven with history and rich in character. Maggie is the oldest Concannon sister, she's bright, strong and very unique. Her life has been shadowed by her mothers anger and regret at being stuck having a daughter. Margaret Mary's father Tom is the shining light in her life, he's supported and encouraged Maggie her whole life. When Tom dies on a rainy Ireland night making Maggie promise to follow her dreams and make sure her sister, Brianna does the same. Maggie is then put on a path of truth opening her up to following those dreams and taking chances. Maggie's beautiful glass works catch the eye of Rogan Sweeney, a are curator who's looking to showcase Irish artists.What first caught my eye during the first chapter was Miss Roberts ability to weave these beautifully descriptive words in such a different way. For example:An unpredictable man he might be, full of starts and stops and quick turns, but she knew him. Of all the men she had known, she had loved no one with the full thrust of her heart as she loved Tom Concannon.The story of Margaret Mary unfolds in such a natural way, she sort of jumps off the page as either a women you wish you could be, free and artsy or the women you already are. I found myself wishing I could be as free with my ideas of how relationships develop. Wanting him to call or wishing he would come by. For Maggie, she just lets life happen, doen't play games and welcomes the idea of what fate has to offer. She's riddled with the past mistakes of her mother and father. Almost to a painful point where she's gone so far the other way and warded off marriage because of what she witnessed as a child.Reading the interactions between Margaret Mae and Rogan were hilarious. Like fire and ice together they worked their way around each other to the point that they were the only people in the room who didn't know they were mad in love. Written to perfection, dripping in words not normally used to convey love and affection. When Rogan and Maggie come together, it's not a slow burn it's a raging fire. Elegant, he was. And beautiful, she thought, in a way so uniquely male, and as wonderfully competent and precise as the handy little machine he used to run his figures. Not a man to run across sunny fields or lie dreaming under the moon. But he was more than she'd first imagined him to be, much more, she now understood. So with one Nora Roberts book under my belt, it's only fitting to go back for seconds.