I decided I wanted to be an author when I wrote my first “book” at seven years old. I remember sitting in the “alcove” (we had a strange little transition room with no apparent purpose in my first home, but my parents had shoehorned a table under the sunny window and I liked it there), finishing the first chapter…and feeling the pressing need to start on the next.
That need has never gone away.
I read my first romance novel shortly before I graduated high school. I’ll admit, I had low expectations for this book, but my boyfriend at the time had loaned it to me and I decided to give it a try.
I finished it at two o’clock that morning, unable to put it down until Trent and Annie finally realized they were made for each other. I could barely drag myself out of bed for school four hours later, but the satisfaction was worth the lack of sleep – and I couldn’t wait to start writing my own.
It’s been a long journey, but now I live in a small house with the love of my life, and I’ve found I like to sit on the front porch while I write about the loves and lives of my characters. It’s my new “alcove” – that sunlit place where I can chase the next chapter and the satisfaction that comes with a good love story. Thank you for chasing them with me.