Connie used to think authors were sophisticated creatures who lived in NYC, went to glitzy parties and wrote as the muse dictated. Then she met one.The writer looked a lot like her-jeans, a few extra pounds, a love of books and a quirky imagination.With the encouragement of that writer and many like her, Connie now lives the dream, writing big stories from her little desk in her little town. Even as you read this, she is working on a new story and living happily ever after.

Connie used to think authors were sophisticated creatures who lived in NYC, went to glitzy parties and wrote as the muse dictated. Then she met one.The writer looked a lot like her-jeans, a few extra pounds, a love of books and a quirky imagination.With the encouragement of that writer and many like her, Connie now lives the dream, writing big stories from her little desk in her little town. Even as you read this, she is working on a new story and living happily ever after.

Connie used to think authors were sophisticated creatures who lived in NYC, went to glitzy parties and wrote as the muse dictated. Then she met one.The writer looked a lot like her-jeans, a few extra pounds, a love of books and a quirky imagination.With the encouragement of that writer and many like her, Connie now lives the dream, writing big stories from her little desk in her little town. Even as you read this, she is working on a new story and living happily ever after.