A few years ago, I was toying with the idea of writing a book about a former female Navy SEAL. I didn’t know her name or her story, but bits and pieces were beginning to come to me. I couldn’t find any direction and didn’t feel like the character was talking to me as I sat at my desk in my office on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. I needed a break to clear my head. Some time away with a good friend was just what I was hoping for.
When I arrived in the Arkansas Ozarks, my dear friend, Tammi, assured me that I would one day write a series that takes place in one of the picturesque towns in the area. I was dead set against writing a series, but I went with an open mind. After several days of driving around and visiting many of the picturesque towns, I was even more convinced that I was not meant to write a series, and my character was still hiding in my brain, refusing to show herself. Then we drove through a town that broke my heart.
The sidewalks were cracked, most of the windows were boarded up, and the fountain in the center of town was dry and crumbling. Suddenly, I saw Andi, arriving home from the Navy, standing in the middle of town with a hole in her heart. She was dying inside, and the one place she thought could revive her was dying as well.
Here we are, three years later, and Andi is happily married and living in Buffalo Springs, the town she helped restore. Her sister, Helena, is engaged to the town doctor and piloting every organization in town. Their brother, Jackson, well… he’s trying to find his way out of Buffalo Springs as fast as he can.
“In every age and in every country we find many “perfect” women (cf. Prov 31:10) who, despite persecution, difficulties and discrimination, have shared in the Church’s mission…the witness and the achievements of Christian women have had a significant impact on the life of the Church as well as of society…Holy women are an incarnation of the feminine ideal; they are also a model for all Christians”
Eighteen months ago, I introduced many readers to Chincoteague Island, a place long-known and loved by many in the Mid-Atlantic area. The response to the award-winning novel was overwhelming, and I fell in love with the characters as much as my readers did. In less than a month, on June 15, the sequel to 
I was blindsided last night by the outpouring of love and support that I received from so many people. I held a launch party for my newest release, 
I’ve been running from it, kicking it away, fighting to hide it, and just plain old denying it; and now I’m coming out into the open to admit it. I write romance novels. To be honest, I hate genres. I hate being labeled as any kind of author because I write what I write, whatever strikes my fancy, whatever my characters want the manuscript to become. I have never intended to write a romance. I once asked romance novelist Robyn Carr where she thinks I belong. She didn’t hesitate, “You’re a romance writer.” I could barely fake the smile that I returned to her as she beamed proudly at her proclamation. “No, I’m not,” I wanted to scream to the room full of writers and fans. I write children’s books, mysteries, suspense novels, and a blog. I DO NOT write romance. At least, that’s what I’ve always told myself. Alas, here’s the truth: I DO write romance. And here’s why… 
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