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I began writing out of absolute desperation. Stuck in a cookie-cutter suburban subdivision with only toddlers and Thomas the Tank Engine to talk to, I began scribbling; filling my books with mayhem and mirth.
Soon, feisty heroines, hunky heroes and assorted wacky relatives, friends and dogs began populating my imaginary worlds and finding their way onto publishers' desks. I stole early morning quiet hours to write before the kids and work could interrupt. I baked chocolate chip cookies in the afternoons, invited a crowd of kids over to play and wrote at the kitchen table while the chaos swirled all around me.
Now the boys are getting older and I write to avoid dealing with the reality of adolescence… you know… teenaged drivers, eye rolling, phrases like 'Whatever!' and 'I'll do it in a minute!'
I live in North Carolina with my two boys, a large mutt named Bailey, a miniature schnauzer named Maggie who rules the roost, and a very confused bunny rabbit who seems to think she's a squirrel. If I had spare time, my cottage garden wouldn't look like the horticultural equivalent of Girls Gone Wild, my funky, retro house would be halfway clean, and my paperwork would be all caught up. However, we all need something to aspire to, and a clean house is apparently not on my list of lifetime goals.