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I grew up in a small town at the very tip of southern Illinois. I was a real tomboy – I spent most of my time outside and I remember once getting into big trouble for breaking the trellis while climbing out of my second-story bedroom window.
When my family moved to L.A., major culture shock ensued. I discovered that grapefruits grew on trees, television offered more than two channels, and all the other girls had breasts. While hiding out and waiting for my chest to develop, I read voraciously, raiding my mother's bookshelf for Mickey Spillane when I finished all my Nancy Drew novels.
Another move took my family to Denver, the place I still call home.
I graduated from North Central college outside Chicago, got married, and returned to Colorado where I worked in personnel at the Denver Post and lived in a mountain cabin without running water. When I fell pregnant with my first child, a return to civilization seemed prudent. I settled in Denver, raised two amazing daughters, and started writing for Harlequin. After my divorce, I took a break from romance and began writing straight suspense.
During my frantic years as a single mom, writing books and working odd jobs to supplement my income, I hardly had time to breathe, much less to dream. Then something remarkable happened. I fell in love with a tall, sexy man who was an aerial photographer and the author of tough-guy mystery novels. Fortunately, he loved me back. I found my real-life hero, inherited three more grown kids and three grandchildren.
I started writing romance again, loving every minute of a life filled with laughter, crazy road trips, sailboats, and journeys to Oregon with long walks on rocky beaches.
Not too long ago, the love of my life developed inoperable pancreatic cancer. With supportive friends and family standing by, he died at home.
I now live alone, surrounded by beautiful memories. I have no regrets and I consider myself lucky to have found my soul mate, the man with whom I shared a perfect love.
Romancing the Stone