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I grew up on the west coast of Canada in a land of mountains, cedar trees and rain. Whenever I wasn't gazing dreamily at the mountains or climbing the next-door neighbour’s forbidden cedar tree, I spent my time curled in an armchair with a book, waiting for the rain to stop so I could go back outdoors to play. Little did I know that the rain was tempting me to another sort of fun – a lifelong addiction to an alternative to real life. Apart from a short period of competition with a childhood friend who read impossibly fast and won the most-books-per-week competition hands down, all this reading was pure pleasure. It inspired me to write my first fantasy about apple tree gnomes when I was eight years old.
At the age of twelve, I spent a year in Oxford with my parents and sisters. Since most of my childhood was spent reading Brit-lit, it’s not surprising I felt entirely at home. I spent that year exploring Oxford by bus and on foot, spending my pocket money at Blackwell’s Bookshop and playing twosy-ball against the school wall. I had the unimaginable thrill of grubbing around in an archaeological dig, unearthing shards of pottery while secretly hoping for bones instead. I got to explore Stonehenge and walk on Hadrian’s Wall. I still regret not being allowed to spend the night in the haunted tower at Warwick Castle. Still, that year in England firmly grounded my love of history, and when my mother introduced me to the books of Georgette Heyer, my desire to write Regency romances was born… although I didn’t admit it to myself for years.
After returning to Canada and surviving the high school years (which included a best-forgotten foray into teen melodrama), I studied English Literature at the University of British Columbia. Marriage, children, and a move to Montreal ensued. Through the long and cold-but-beautiful winters, stories simmered inside me. Several years later, after moving to Georgia, I completed and published a middle-grade fantasy. After that came a romance that is still under my bed, and a few mysteries that kept turning paranormal no matter how much I tried to remain at least somewhat realistic. (Frequent visits to New Orleans may have had something to do with this. I succumbed to the dark and lovely moods of the French Quarter and wrote several paranormal romances.)
And then, all of a sudden, I caved in and wrote a Regency romance. Immediately, I became hooked. I tried to I divide my writing time between paranormal and historical worlds, but an urge to combine them raised its pesky little head, and now I’ve written several historical paranormal romances. I can’t promise not to add a third genre to the mix!
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