I'm a mom who writes books in her spare time: translation--I hide in the bathroom with my laptop and lock the door while the kids destroy the house and smear peanut butter on the walls. I was born in Utah but lived in Kansas until I was 13, in Texas until I was 18, and attended college in Hawaii—studying marine biology. I'm now back in Utah--"happy valley". I'm married to a wonderful husband, James, and we are currently raising 6 rambunctious children. My interests are reading, writing (of course), martial arts, visual arts, creating Halloween props, and spending time with family.
I signed with Clean Teen Publishing in 2013. My first published book Rising, quickly hit the best-seller lists and has maintained its status on those lists since it's release in September 2013. The sequel in The Rising Series titled, Descending, was released in late March 2014. It also hit best-seller status--reaching all the way to #1 in Mythology on Amazon.
It's 1792 and Hope is on the run. She finds shelter in a glen called Sleepy Hollow. Luck is with her as the town is unexpectedly looking for a new teacher and Hope is hired for the job.
Unfortunately, not everything is looking up for her. Not only is the mayor out to get her fired and the local witch determined to slice her up and brew her organs into potions, but hidden under the floorboards of her quaint little cabin, she finds a man. His name is Conall.
Conall is demanding, he's ornery, and though he has undeniably handsome features, he is missing something of vital importance...
His body.
Snippet:
“Hope,” he roared. “Come . . . back . . . inside! If you even so much as think of leaving me here, when I get my body back, I will whip you from now until Sunday.”
At those words, something in her snapped. The image of Eli assaulting her, driving her into hiding filled her mind—there was no way under heaven or earth she would allow another man to intimidate her again. If she were well and good crazed, she might as well do as she wished. With nothing else to lose, she stormed over to the door and threw it open, her fear turned to righteous anger. “No one lays a hand on me. Ever!”
“Brave words for a woman speaking to someone completely helpless,” he sneered. “But I warn you, with my body, I am a warrior the likes you’ve not seen. I have never been bested in battle, and I will darn well whip any woman I put my mind to whipping!”
“Whipping a woman is never a brave act,” Hope said. “A man who strikes a woman is a coward and a snake.”
“You use my own words against me,” he said. It looked like he remembered the day they met. He probably had a lot of time to think about it over the years. “I used those words for a man who would rape a woman. Whipping a woman who deserves it is a whole other affair. Sometimes a woman needs to be taught her place.”
“Taught her place?” Hope fairly screamed. “Did you say, ‘Taught her place?’”
“I did not stutter. You know exactly what I said.”
Hope stormed over to the box, took a fistful of hair, picked him up, and stomped over to the old chamber pot. Too bad it hadn’t been used lately. “I will teach you your place.” Without care, she chucked him inside. His roar and subsequent slew of profanity reverberated off the cabin walls. Hope ignored the vile man, draped an old cloth over the pot, and proceeded to get dressed. She could still hear him bellowing as she made her way down the path toward town.
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