My mom loved to read. I vividly remember being four years old and sitting across from her in the living room on a terrible brown striped polyester sofa watching her read with a book in my hands. When she would turn a page, then I would turn a page. Mimicking her because I wanted to be like her. I literally couldn’t read a word.
The next book memory is around twelve years old, when I secretly stole one of her Harlequin Romance books from the shelf and proceeded to read it right under her nose while we were driving to a campground. The secret didn’t last long, because she found it and I got the lecture of a lifetime. I was a bit of a rebel. I still am.
“It’s a New York Times Bestseller.” That’s how my mom chose her books. That’s the big, hairy, audacious goal I have, (BHAG, google it, it’s a thing) to write something that makes the New York Times Bestseller List. Not because she would particularly enjoy my writing, I’m in the erotic fiction/erotic romance arena, but because she used that as the bar to measure the worth of a book.
Growing up in a family of seven, we spent a lot of time at the library. I loved all the stacks of books, and the warm gooey goodness of finding a book that looked interesting, and flopping down on a chair to start it. Books transported me so many places, it fed my imagination. I dined on fantasy and romance and even a little science fiction. Reading is still something I enjoy, though with the demands of being a single mother, I have a lot less time to do it.
I tried to write a few books along the way, that were regulated to the slush pile rather quickly. I never finished anything. Until today. Today I completed a project and it feels so good. I think my mom would be proud. She passed away several years ago. We had a falling out for several years before that, but the passage of time has erased all that ick and pain and what is left is the girl who sat across from her momma when she was four and turned the page when her momma did.
That is who I am. And someday, I hope my mom knows in heaven, that I became a “New York Times Best Selling Author.”
PS. If you love these blog posts, help me keep the lights on and Doritos in the pantry for my teenager, by checking out one of my books below. There's something for everyone. "Velvet Guild" is naughty and explicit. (Erotic Romance), "Scotland with a Stranger" is a memoir of my trip to Scotland last May and "AnaStasia" is a parallel lives story (Women's Fiction)
Friends Don't Let Friends Stay Vanilla
Desperate times…call for sexy solutions.
Aimee is panicking, feeling like a middle-aged failure, barely scraping by, raising a teenager alone. She is also a submissive who yearns to be dominated in the bedroom.
Scotland with a Stranger:A Memoir
“Who goes to Scotland for two weeks with a stranger they met over the internet?”
At forty-three, Ninya was depressed, out of shape, and filled with crippling anxiety after addiction, cancer, and divorce had destroyed nearly everything. One day, she received a message from a stranger.
This is the story of one life, lived two different ways.
In one reality, “Stasia” is the beloved daughter of doting parents who spare no expense in supporting her ambition and talent.
In another reality, “Ana” washes dishes at a nursing home to buy her carefully-budgeted art supplies, waiting until her alcoholic father passes out before creeping downstairs to paint.
First You Then Him
A Former Trainwreck’s Guide to Becoming then Finding a Healthy Partner
Wish you had a big sister to take you by the hand to tell you why things aren’t working in your life?
After two decades of making all the wrong decisions when it came to life and men, Ninya has learned a lifetime of valuable lessons about both.