I was five years old when my parents moved from Manhattan, New York to Jamaica. It was always their dream to go home, but for me, it was a nightmare. Gone were mornings spent with Bert, Ernie and Big Bird. Strawberry Shortcake and The Smurfs were also things of the past. You see, when we moved to Jamaica, the island had only two television stations so, I turned to books.
My mother has always had an extensive library and it didn’t take long for me to quickly grow tired of Nancy Drew and her escapades. As soon as I was able, I delved into my mom’s collection of Danielle Steel novels and found myself fleeing the Russian revolution with Zoya and discovering my independence with Samantha in Palomino.
Those novels, along with an ever accessible stack of Harlequins, were what fueled my love of the romance genre. I can’t tell you how many days I sat on my parent’s verandah completely lost in the pages of a book.
Now that I’m a writer, my goal is to do the same. I’d like that when someone picks up one of my novels, they are transported to another time and place. If I can help just one person forget their troubles (even for a short while) then I’ve done my job.