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Penny McCusker

Penny McCusker

Proud to write for Mills & Boon

Connect with Penny

Penny's top writing themes

Family - connections
Coming of age
Elements of time

About Penny

I was born and raised in south eastern Michigan, the seventh of nine children, and my biggest ‘claim to fame’ was reading five books a week in grade school. Needless to say, my obsession with stories only grew from there (despite a short, and misguided, foray into the world of computer science – the ‘sensible’ job path).

After completing my associates degree, I enrolled at the University of Michigan, and finally figured out that the reason I got those puzzled looks from the other computer programmers was because I wasn't really one of them. I changed my major to History and English, and then came detour number two – also known as marriage and childbirth. My son was followed by my daughter in just fourteen months, and then we had another son five years later.

At home, with no job and no night school to attend for the first time in my life, I filled the kids' nap times and my evening hours with crafts; ceramics, macramé, stained glass and especially crocheting. Ultimately, of course, those other creative pastimes didn't satisfy the need to write – or to get those voices in my head to quiet down.
With the help and support of one of my sisters, I began to write (and write and write and write) and finally sold my first novel in 1997. Four more followed, until the particular line I wrote for closed down in 2001. After a little hiatus – and yet another change of direction – I began to write humour, if only to satisfy my inner smart alec.

I still live in Michigan with my husband, our three children and two dogs whose life of leisure I envy but would never be able to pull off. I work as an accountant by day, which feeds the side of my brain that craves order and normalcy. The rest of my time is devoted to writing whatever pops into the creative (and questionably sane) side of my brain. My children and husband have come to accept this strange preoccupation I have with imaginary people. The dogs don't worry about it, as long as they're fed occasionally and allowed to nap on whatever piece of furniture strikes their fancy. Come to think of it, that pretty much goes for the husband, too.