I didn’t start out to be a writer. But I have always been a voracious reader. An activity which my father encouraged and my mother discouraged because she knew all too well if left to my own devices I wouldn’t do anything else!
Although born in the U.S., I hold dual US/UK citizenship through my Scottish father and English born mother. Originally from the Pacific Northwest, near Seattle, I was very lucky to spend summers in Scotland with one set of grandparents or in Winnipeg, Manitoba with the other set.
After leaving college with a degree in Journalism and discovering the compensation less than generous I set out to become a ‘Jill of all trades,’ dabbling in various ventures: bartending and bar management, modelling, travel consulting, bookkeeping, retail and commission sales - and moonlighting as entertainment columnist for a paper in southern California - or as it now pronounced in some circles, ‘Caaalleeefoornia.’
Eventually my prince charming located me and after gallantly sweeping me away into happily ever after, he discovered me one night in bed with his rival – a romance novel. “Unfaithful wench!” he cried. “You read so many books why don’t you write one yourself?”
“Write!” I gasped in horror. “Write? That’s far too hard a job. I don’t want to work that hard! Why, I’d rather dance naked in a strip bar!”
My husband snorted. “‘She doth protest too much methinks.’”
To my consternation, his idea continually crept into my conscious mind. It figures prince charming would turn out to fit Lady Caro Lamb’s description of Lord Byron as ‘mad, bad, and dangerous to know.’
After learning with various degrees of success to control both my fear of the blank page and rejection, I yielded and set out to pen my first book. Eventually, BLOOD MOON OVER BENGAL was written, refined and purchased by Dorchester one year after its completion.
Oh, by the way, prince charming removed us to Honolulu where we now live over looking Mauna Lua Bay with two monster Maine Coon cats, Dynofelis Fergus McMouser and Smilodon St. John Blue.
Please look for my third book, PERFIDIA, in September! W/A Elspeth McKendrick.
“To you,
my heart cries out ‘Perfidia,’
for I find you, the love of my life,
in someone else’s arms…”
PERFIDIA
Sophie de Havilland fled London and her past, vowing never to return. In Germany she sought solace, with her aunt, and couldn’t help but admire how the Third Reich had reclaimed a country so near ruin. But soon the veneer crumbled. Beneath the frenetic nightlife of 1939 Berlin, the swirling parties with the dashing SS in their night-black uniforms and their beautiful dames, she saw cancer growing. Stories of an impossible nature—terrible stories, terrible crimes—she began to believe.
These Nazis were Germany’s demon lover: handsome, fearsome, faithless, murderous. Her aunt had been right to seek escape. But, was it possible? One man offered hope: a handsome half-American. But while his spicy scent and strong arms seduced her with safety, the lightning on his collar and his searing blue eyes reminded her that sometimes the handsomest faces hid perfidious intent.
