Focused and in control at all times. Most people think I’m a prick—and I’ll be the first to admit that’s probably true. But I’d rather be a take-no-shit cop than the kind of man genetics says I should be. You break the law, you pay the price. I don’t give a damn if you’re the captain’s daughter or the Queen of friggin’ England.
I have no patience for the cocky men my father oversees. Or maybe it’s just Sergeant Hardass who gets under my skin. Not only is he sexy as sin, he refuses to cut me a break.
And now I have to work with the arrogant jerk.
I shouldn’t want him, but a secret part of me craves his unforgiving edge. He could give me everything I need, but, first, I have to break down his walls.
I have to make him bend.
Like many novelists, especially romance writers, my infatuation with a good love story began early. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I’ll admit that Barbie and Ken acted more than a couple of the story lines I had in my head (sorry, Mom, but, no, not all of them were kid-appropriate). The obsession continued to grow as I got older and, whenever I left home, I always had a wire-bound notebook and a blue ballpoint pen in hand. In fact, every August, I still get that goofy, schoolgirl itch to buy up oodles of pens and paper, because, while I love my laptop, nothing compares to writing long-hand. If the house is quiet and there’s a thunderstorm rumbling outside, even better.
Not that I have the slightest a clue what a quiet house is anymore. Having three rambunctious (but awesome) kids, a zippy dog and a pesky cat has completely blurred my memory of peace and quiet. Oh, and I have a husband too–I call him the FisherGuy–and he’s probably louder and crazier than all the rest. I think I’ll keep him though. After all, he keeps me in fresh fish year-round (yum!) and he’s good hero material. Did I mention he’s also a firefighter?
We live in Northern Wisconsin and, let me tell ya, living here has provided lots of small-town fodder for this writer’s overactive imagination. Of course, I know no one who’s lived anything close to the steamy experiences I write about (not that I’d tell ya if I did *wink*). There’s something inherently sexy about not knowing what goes on behind closed doors…or even better, letting my imagination run free, concocting all kinds of stories and scenarios and putting them down on paper. Or my laptop.