I spent my school days addicted to reading romances. Historical. Regencies. Old West, Native American. Pirate. The list goes on. I would tuck a Romance in my open science book and pretend to be following along with class when I was really lost in a fantasy world of happily ever after. Though my knowledge of mitochondria is woefully limited, I can boast a vast array of trivia about the pirate trade of the 16th century, American pioneer life and Regency etiquette of the Ton.

My reading habits haven’t improved much and I still read when I should be doing laundry, making dinner and/or any household chores (we order a lot of pizza). In fact, when I discover a new author I will read their entire backlist non-stop. Literally. I won’t do anything else but read. Addiction is a dangerous thing.

I live in the Pacific Northwest with my husband and three children. Between reading and juggling family, I am hard at work writing. It’s my secret hope that my books will find their way inside text books, sparking the imagination and talent of the next generation of writers. My apologies to teachers everywhere.