My first memory of a writing assignment should have been a signal to me that I would end up writing epic fantasy stories. I was tasked with a two paragraph story in second grade, and I filled two pages, front and back! My next memory of writing is a fun little story in sixth grade called Molly and the Terrible Day. It was a cast full of anthropomorphized kitchen items; the star, Molly, was a chipped cup (perhaps a Beauty and the Beast reference?). The villain was a blender, and the kitchen item in distress was a birthday candle. I printed it out (by hand!), bound it, and even gave it a hand drawn cover. So, it shouldn’t be a surprise that I eventually ended up becoming serious about writing stories, since I was obviously a child prodigy. High school and college gave me enough writing assignments about horribly boring things that I never had time for creative writing. Then I got married and started playing around with words again. I wrote a decorating blog for seven years, but then I started having kids, and time (along with sleep, and clean clothes) became a scarce and oh-so-precious commodity. Fast forward a few years, with a husband who never stopped encouraging me to write, and I finally just sat down and started writing. And the rest, as they say, is history. C.S. Lewis, who should be crowned supreme wordsmith of all time, said, “you can make anything by writing.” That’s what I love about writing. The possibilities. The characters that I end up falling in love with. The magic and the creativity. I’m so happy to have discovered something that I have such a passion for. I hope you enjoy reading my stories just a fraction as much as I have enjoyed writing them! I firmly believe that books are windows into other worlds, and I have so many favorites it would take forever to list them all. In fact, I’ve often referred to the books I own as my friends (much to my husband’s chagrin), and I’ve dreamt of a Beauty and the Beast-esque library filled with multiple stories of books. But, really, who wants to do all that dusting? Here’s a partial list of the books I could read time and time again, or books that I’m still thinking about years later;