While growing up in suburban New Jersey, I spent a good chunk of my time agonizing over what to wear and reading about happily-ever-after's. Although I commuted to New York City for design school, I spent my two-hour travel time devouring every romance novel I could get my hands on. After college, I met a nice boy whose ambitions were just as oversized as mine, and he miraculously elected to put a ring on it.

We've moved six times in seven years, adding a little munchkin to our ranks. My husband quickly recognized, by the staggering number of book orders I placed, one: he needed a larger library for me, and two: I had a heady obsession with romance. The day before our son's first birthday he suggested I write a book of my own. The seed had been planted, and the roots took hold. Little did he know what he'd done...cue the evil chuckle.