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I grew up in Yorkshire, surrounded by derelict mills, sheep and flat vowels, a stereotypical bookworm who ploughed through a novel a day (or should that be night?) and tried very hard to do well at maths. After going to University (twice) I had a short spell as a teacher before leaving the profession when my first child arrived six weeks early. I emerged from a fog of nappies and no sleep when my second child was ten months old, realised that CBeebies didn’t really cut it entertainment wise and decided I was going to write a book.
My first novel was set in my old school and featured a putrid ghost, lots of witchcraft and a Mary Sue heroine who had not one but two gorgeous boys lusting after her. It also featured lots of death. Fortunately I couldn’t find an agent willing to take it on. More manuscripts and more rejections followed (I won't say how many) until I sold my fifth manuscript, a contemporary romance called Once a Bad Girl, a story about a woman who has to learn what trust really means. Within a year I had sold four more books to Harlequin and my career as a professional writer had begun.