photo by Colleen Kelly

At the age of ten, when I read Black Beauty, I knew I wanted to be a writer.  But life got in the way.  I discovered boys, went to college, got married, had kids, all the usual things people do.  Yet during it all, the dream simmered, until one day, my two oldest were in school and my youngest was taking a nap and I said to myself, "Sharon, if you're going to do it, now's the time."

My brother sold me his out-of-date Gateway computer for $200.  I had dial-up connection and an internet package that allowed me 20 hours per month of web surfing, but I managed to write my first story
in just under three months.  I must say, I was a little scared at first.  Not at the long hill I'd have to climb (I was too naive to realize just what I'd gotten myself into) but because suddenly there were people living in my head, talking to me, demanding I tell their stories.  And it wasn't just one hero and heroine--there were many.  As if they'd been waiting all these years for me to wake up and realize I was a writer.

From then on I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up (never mind I'd been married nearly mumble-mumble years and the mother of 3).  I wanted to be a writer. 

There are books that have touched me in ways I sometimes can't explain.  Those books have a special place on my bookshelf. 

Suzanne Enoch's Rick Addison and Samantha Jellicoe Series (I love the chemistry between these two)

JR Ward's Vampires (Favorite heroes)

my 'read' shelf: