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I have always loved romance. Even as a small girl, my favorite stories were the fairy tales where the handsome hero and the fair maiden always found true love together in the end no matter the hardships along the way. I was raised in Tennessee by older parents. Because I really was a late in life child, they kind of let me do my own thing as long as I kept both feet firmly on the ground. So since it was kind of hard to participate in sports and those kind activities with my feet completely on the ground, I chose reading. I remember walking to the library and getting a plastic grocery bag full of books and carrying them home. If I had to ride in a car, even to the grocery store, I carried a book with me. There was always a book mixed in with my school books. On the bus, I would read until it was my time to get off. When my family was watching tv, I sat on the couch half watching but I would always have a book in my lap. I read books at night under the covers with a flash light.
I found romance books at an early age. Probably a lot earlier than I should have. I skipped over the parts that were too adult for me and just kept reading. Even though I knew that by the end of each book, the hero and heroine always professed their love for each other and vowed to spend the rest of their lives together, I eagerly wanted to know how they got there. My heart would just about burst when they got to that moment. Even now, the moment that the lovers claim each other as their mate and pledge their lives to each other still makes my heart skip a beat.
I want to give someone that reads my stories the same jolt, the same feeling that I have experienced over the years in thousands of romance novels that I have read.