Hi! If you’re reading this, then there’s a good chance you’re curious to know a little more about me. My mind always goes blank the moment someone says the word bio, but I’ll give it a try. We’ll start at the very beginning. I was born. Yeah, you’re probably thinking “so what, that happened to all of us.” It did, but the number of people who were born in Bendigo, Australia on the same day I was is probably pretty small and it’s probably safe to say that the number of people who were born on that day who are now reading this is even smaller. So, in that respect, it’s worthy of note. Then I grew up. And before you say it, yeah I know, you did too. But did you grow up in the Aussie outback, moving from one cattle station to the next as your Dad followed the work, doing your school in the back of the car, learning how to operate a camp shower, or cook bread in a camp oven buried in the coals? Nope, didn’t think so. Thanks to that lifestyle, we kids spent a LOT of time outside. I mean, for part of that time we camped out year round, so we didn’t just play outside, we ate and cooked and did everything outside. Collecting wood for the campfire meant we learned which trees produced the best wood, how many sticks we could carry at one time, how to avoid ants and other creepy crawlies, and the list could go on forever. We also learned it wasn’t safe to stick your foot in a freshly boiled billy. That didn’t happen to me. It happened to my sister who backed out of the car without looking right after someone set the billy for Dad’s tea behind the car. She stuck her foot in it (ruined a good billy of tea too!) and necessitated a rushed trip to town where she spent (I think) a week in hospital with second or third degree burns to her foot. Pretty nasty, but memorable because that was when my love of reading, which led to my love of writing, started. Because, to keep my sister occupied for days on end in hospital, Mum went to the newsagent and bought her a pile of books. One of those books was this really cool story about a red-headed, eleven-year-old girl called Anne Shirley. I was eleven and I got to read that really cool book after my sister came home and that set off a love for reading that I never outgrew. I devoured all the Anne books and anything else I could get my hands on. Fast-forward a bunch of years because now that you’ve read the really cool stuff like me being born and where I grew up you’re probably not interested in the more boring things like how I met my hubby when I was living in Australia and he was from the USA and how we had a long-distance relationship and didn’t see each other at all during the period between the day we got engaged to a week before the wedding. Yeah, like I said, we’ll skip the boring stuff and refocus on the day I ran out of books and decided to start writing my own. That lasted for a while, then life got busy and I had to put the writing aside to focus on our seven kids. During those ten years I didn’t stop thinking about writing, I just didn’t put words on paper. But then one day it occurred to me that my Mum was in the same boat I’d been in ten years before with nothing to read and no way to get anything to read because she lived in the further-outback part of the outback—like, way out where it took a three hour drive to get to the nearest town. So I started writing and this time I didn’t stop. I am a Christian and my faith permeates everything I do, so while I won’t be preaching fire and brimstone, my stories will reflect what I believe. I write for those looking for the entertainment of a good, clean story and my hope is that my stories will provide a break from the struggles of everyday life. I hope you stick around and try my books and maybe one day I’ll tell that ‘boring’ story of how I met my hubby.