Growing up I couldn't read enough romance. When I was a teenager, my mother would come into my room at night to take away my flashlight, and the book I'd been secretly reading under the covers. When she wanted to punish me or reward me she would take away books or allow me to purchase a new one. I couldn't get enough. My absolute favorite books were those with a story I could get lost in, even if they were a bit over the top. I had to deal with reality already, why would I want it in my books? I loved Jude Deveroux, Lindsey Sands, Katie MacAlister, Christine Feehan, Eloise James, and many more authors, too numerous to count. In fact, I'll never forget meeting Eloise James at a Romance Writers of America conference in Connecticut where she was to be the speaker. She signed a copy of her latest book for me and was a sweet as could be while I stared and stammered like a star-struck teenager. That was about ten years ago when I was still pitching my first book to editors and agencies. Somehow, through the twists and turns that life creates, I always knew I would find my way back to my passion for writing. Through divorce and single motherhood. Through changing my career and fighting for survival. Through finding love when I'd lost all hope. My books and writing were always there, waiting in the wings to cheer me on and give me strength.  

Published Author since 2011
Past Destinies May 2011
Unexpected Destinies June 2012
Wild Imaginings 2020