People often ask if I always wanted to be a writer. I suppose the answer is yes and no. Yes, I was writing stories, worked as the society editor at a small newspaper, and wrote poems now and then—but that didn’t mean I was a writer. God had called me to be a music missionary to Mexico at summer camp. Life—and God—kept pushing me in the direction of writing until I finally embraced it.
I was born in New Hampshire during the baby boom and spent most of my growing-up years in New England. We settled in Maine when I was nine, and the Pine Tree state will always be home to me. The only child of a single mom, I grew up in a household of three women who doted on me.
I left Maine for good when I went to Northeastern Bible College in Essex Fells, New Jersey and earned my Bachelor of Church Music degree. After graduation, I followed my former roommate and her husband to Southwestern Baptist Seminary in Ft. Worth. My straight forward life plan crashed when I was kicked out of the Master of Music program. They had the gall to tell me I didn’t play piano well enough!
I was bright, committed, and focused, and had never been told I couldn’t do something I set my mind on. I could have continued in music theory, or a Master of Church music. Instead, I transferred to the religious education school and got married. Two children later, I finished the degree. I might never have discovered the joy of teaching without the pain.
Those teachers might be interested to know I still play piano for church groups that visit the nursing home, in spite of my arthritic fingers. When I’m happy, I sing, and music shows up in almost every book I write in some form or other.
I had married an Okie born and bred and we moved there from Texas. But when I learned my husband had abused our children, I left him and moved to Colorado. I’d always dreamed of the Rocky Mountains, and they didn’t disappoint. They gave me the same thrill as the rocky shores of Maine, and I felt I had found my second home.
The abuse and divorce pushed me into writing, each and every day. Often it was my lifeline as I took care of my son who got into trouble with the law. He’s grown into a wonderful man of God. My daughter didn’t fare as well. She struggled with Borderline Personality Disorder, which made our lives a moment-by-moment trial. In the end, she took her own life.
Through it all, God was faithful. Through it all, I kept writing.
It took fourteen years to get a book in print. After Romanian Rhapsody came out in 2005, I didn’t get another contract until 2007. God turned the spigot on. As of today, I’ve had fifty books published, either collections, reprints, or with contributions from me. I’ve written mostly historical romance, but also mysteries, devotionals, and contemporary romance. For full information on my books, check out the books tab.
After almost two decades in Colorado, I decided to leave. I had lost my daughter Jolene to suicide. My son and his family lived in Oklahoma, and I wanted to enjoy my grandchildren. I live near my son Jaran’s family: his wife Shelley, and those precious grandchildren: Savannah, Shannon, Jordan and Isaiah. I also began writing fulltime.