Suddenly I find myself wondering if this is real. Pinching
my arm doesn't make me wake up. I have always, always wanted to write romance
novels. Ever since I started sneaking Harlequin books from my grandma's house
when I was fifteen.
I wrote my first story, about a horrible gorilla spirit that
chased after the young girls who moved into his house when I was an early teen.
It seems silly now but at the time just writing it gave me nightmares. I
realized then, writing anything besides romance wasn’t for me.
But life gets in the way, like it somehow seems to do,
offering the perfect excuses to not start writing that day.
Then I got to a point where my head was so full of stories I
worried they would fall out and spill all over the place. So, I started
writing. What started out as a hobby turned into an obsession. I can’t stop
now. I write every single day and I love every moment of it.
Being published is a dream come true. It’s indescribable the
feeling I had after seeing my name at the bottom of my first book.
Writing is no longer a hobby for me, it’s a way of life. One
that I happily live!
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