About Me

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My literary taste runs the gamut from Shakespeare, Poe, and Austen, to Elizabeth Lowell, Toni Morrison, and Jo Nesbo. Though I often read tales that plumb the inner demons of tortured souls, I prefer to write lighter books that my readers can have fun with.

Growing up, my sister and I lived next door to three French girls, who were like sisters to us. It was our friendship that gave me the idea of writing a book series about a group of five girls, plus the wonderful time I spent in Santa Barbara in my 20s.

Set in Santa Barbara, the Cota Club books tell the stories of each of the five friends and reflect the genres that fit each of the characters. That’s why Kristi’s story in Love and Money is a mystery, whereas Carla’s story in The Offering is romantic suspense. Tate’s story in Love and Hate is a thriller. I don’t know yet about Izzy’s, but Gwen’s will turn to the world of the supernatural.

John Donne on Death

A neighbor died yesterday of a heart attack while working in his gorgeous garden. He was an older, dapper English gentleman with a fine head of white hair and a pencil white mustache reminiscent of David Niven. We knew him as someone who walked by with his wife and terrier every evening toward sunset. They'd stop as we worked in our garden and pay us compliments for our labor of love. Their own garden was a showcase of beauty and a tribute to the classic Engish garden. Slow death by cancer in some sterile hospital setting or to be struck down swiftly in the spring sunshine while working among your flowers? We heard the sirens go by, not knowing who they were for. After I found out, John Donne's words rang in my head. I pulled out my old Norton Anthology and turned to Meditation XVII:

"Who bends not his ear to any bell which upon any occasion rings? but who can remove it from that bell which is passing a piece of himslef out of this world? No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of they friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."