I was born in 1969 in a (then) small Maryland town. Don’t let the girlie dress and bonnet fool you - I grew up to be a total tomboy who spent most of her time running around the farm, getting into trouble.

(Notice the thumb tack on my shoe?)





My partner-in-crime and older brother, Al.







There was a time when I wanted to be a famous baton twirler. (I’m the one in the white crop top.) But that soon grew boring, especially when they wouldn’t let us twirl the fire batons.



For a while, I did want to be a writer. I wrote a few stories like this one, THE CHIPMUNK AND THE MAGIC PEANUT, and some family newspapers. But, like the baton twirling . . . I got bored.

After that, I wanted to be a secretary. I would even rent my mother’s coffee table from my brother to use as a desk, along with an ancient typewriter, pens, paper, etc.

Yes. You read correctly. I rented my mother’s coffee table from my brother. His going rate? Twenty-five cents a week. Needless to say, I was quite the naive child back then. Here’s further proof:

I also rented a broken tennis racket from him for another twenty-five cents. Read closely. For a two-week rental, I paid seventy-five cents. Yeah, I know. Don’t say it.





The one thing that has always stayed the same is my love of horses.





In high school, I dreamed of one day being on the US Olympic Equestrian Team and I lived for Dressage. I rode every day, even if there was a foot of snow on the ground.


But that dream ended after graduation. I started working part-time at a grocery store, went to a community college full-time, and my parents divorced. Add to that my newfound interest in parties and horses soon faded to the background. After a year and a half, I quit college and went through a menagerie of jobs such as a grocery clerk, waitress, telemarketer, gym membership salesperson, bartender, and a roving character in costume for holiday mall parades. Then I became a secretary, but this time, I didn’t pay rent for my desk!



At twenty-three, I married Bob Bowers, a truly awesome guy. This is us at our wedding reception dancing to “Surfing U.S.A.” (You didn’t think I’d post a normal picture, did you?)





We had Broc . . .







. . . then Cooper thirteen months later . . .


. . . and I became an office manager.

Sure, sometimes I’d fantasize about writing “The Great American Novel,” but that’s all it was . . . a fantasy. I never thought someone like me could be a writer. Besides, my job was too stressful. And I had young kids, so forget it. Then in 1998, a severe migraine put me in the hospital and I realized it was God’s way of telling me I needed to make some serious changes in my life. When I came home from the hospital, half zombied on painkillers, I decided to follow a new path and become a writer. That night, I sat down and wrote two chapters of a novel that popped in my head.

And no, I’m not showing you that. Painkillers, remember?

At first, I wanted to write these worldly, sophisticated books like Sidney Sheldon, or epic novels like Jean M. Auel. But in my mind, I was nothing but a farm girl, college drop-out who once rented a broken tennis racket from her brother. Who’d want to read anything I wrote? Someone who wasn’t worldly or epic or even sophisticated?

Then my husband bought me WHERE THE HEART IS, by Billie Letts. Have you ever read the right book at the right time and it changes your life? This is that book for me. I was blown away by the dynamic, amazing characters and how she told their story. It made me realize that I should embrace my voice - with all its quirks - instead of trying to be someone I’m not.

Still, it took a while to figure out where that voice belonged. First, I tried my luck with picture books and even submitted this dummy to any publisher who accepted unsolicited manuscripts. Surely I could be the next Dr. Seus since picture books are easy to write, right?

Wrong. SO wrong. Picture books are incredibly hard to write, and call for a special talent that I simply don’t have, seeing how no publisher was interested in any of my picture books or BOBBY THE BASS series.

Then I read what is, in my opinion, one of the best young adult novels ever written, HOPE WAS HERE, by Joan Bauer. I fell in love with the genre and started reading every young adult novel I could get my hands on. I felt as though I finally found my home.

A year later, I finished the rough draft of a young adult novel based on my experiences with horses as a teen. It’s never been edited, and who knows if it ever will, but just finishing a novel - however rough - was such an accomplishment for me.

Then I wrote a midgrade novel called LIGHTEN UP, LILLY, and started to research all the publishers I could send it to. It was an okay book. Not great, just okay. But after signing up for a college class taught by Christine Lincoln, I learned my biggest lesson yet. From the start, Christine amazed me with her passion. When she talked about her stories, she’d sometimes cry, or bust out laughing from the love she had for her characters.

I wanted that passion.

So I abandoned LILLY, and in 2002, wrote the opening chapters of BEAUTY SHOP FOR RENT. I decided to put passion before publication, and to become a better writer before trying to sell my book. In April 2004, I sent my manuscript to Rosemary Stimola of Stimola Literary Studio. She offered me representation one week later, and one year later, sold it to Harcourt, Inc.

I hope you all find your path, your voice . . . and your home!