How Did I Get Here…

One of my first memories is cataloging my Little Golden Books, making sure the pesky neighbor kids hadn’t absconded with one, or worse, my mother hadn’t gotten rid of ones she deemed worn out. And I’ve only gotten worse since then.

It’s my late Gramma’s fault I fell for romance at an early age. An army brat, we’d go to Wisconsin and stay with her and Grampa during summer breaks. Gramma read old school romances voraciously and turned a blind eye when I’d steal one to read on the sly. I made do with the Harlequin Romances during the school year, but when summer came, I’d be treated to the likes of Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, Rosemary Rogers, and Beatrice Small. I felt like I’d struck gold. 

Along with a love of reading, I’ve also always loved to tell stories. I can’t say I’ve always had characters whispering to me in my mind, demanding I tell their stories, but they’ve been around for a long time, and they keep multiplying. My choices were to get help or write their stories. Guess which door I chose?

It took a while to get up the nerve to write that first sentence. And then the next and the next. I’d like to say the writing comes easy, but I’d be lying. Some days it flows out of me effortlessly, others, it’s like pulling teeth. Whiskey Home has been years in the making, and there were several times I almost quit. Writing is not for the faint-hearted. Thank goodness I had friends and family along the way that cheered me on and pulled me up out of the dungeon of gloom and self-doubt.

So here we are. Less than two short weeks away from my second book, Whiskey Dream, being published. I can’t wait for you to read Rosalie and Erick’s story. And now it’s time to get started on book number three.