If you scooped up sea water in a bottle and shook it fiercely, that was her. Sand and salt whirling unpredictably in every direction as if desperate to get out.”

I wrote that about Violet in A Wildflower for a Duke, and, like most of the characters that burst free of my imagination and splash onto paper, she is reminiscent of the real people I know best. In this case, me.

The same impulsivity that landed me in countless quandaries as a child has propelled “adult Laura” into a steady stream of unexpected adventures….

For instance, writing a book.

I tend to be a bit like jet fuel— a massive explosion of enthusiasm and glittering good intentions that eventually peter away to foul-smelling smoke and fumes before I’m off in search of the next creative outlet.

Consequently, when I declared my intention to write a novel, I’m not sure that anyone believed such a literary creation would ever contain the words “the end.”

But magic happened when I sat down to write.

I became invested in my characters and felt determined to help them find their way to a happily ever after..

And so, a novel was born.

My love of literature began in the long hours I spent with my mom and a stack of library books. Writing was the natural progression.

Prior to the creation of A Wildflower for a Duke, most of my writing as an adult had been relegated to constructing ridiculous sentences to inspire my homeschooled children to practice their reading, and to creating fundraising posts for my animal rescue non-profit.

But long hours of nursing babies and waiting in the wings for co-op classes allowed me slivers of time to read, so read I did. And in those stolen moments, I rediscovered my love of historical romance.

When I’m not writing or reading, I am basking in my children’s enthusiasm and creativity and remembering how to play make-believe. Bluey’s dad is my hero.

Along with my two-legged children, I have a menagerie of four-legged ones. Throughout my years in rescue, I have fostered over a thousand animals, and some of the more ridiculous ones (including a dachshund mix who spends all day chasing his tail and a pug mix the size of a labrador) became forever pets instead of fosters. I also have one perfectly ordinary cat, a retired racehorse who costs a lot of money and looks pretty in his field, and three egotistical rabbits who have trained my husband to slice fresh vegetables at their command.