I’m a daydreamer—chronic and to a fault. Since I was a child, it’s been my coping mechanism. Who knew depression could take root before you even hit double digits?

Daydreaming bred in me a love for fantasy—for other worlds I could succumb to and feel happy. Or vengeful. Adored. Or understood. My passion for writing came fast—I needed a way to return to the universes my mind kept conjuring.

I started small: quotes, then poems, then little scenarios that eventually demanded more space on the page.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer came into my life at a time when vampires, werewolves, and other creatures were seen only as villains—and suddenly, I wanted them all to be anti-heroes. Then Queen of the Damned (the movie) came and I needed to make them lovers. Books wove their way in between it all—fantasy, crime, paranormal, mysteries, and horrors. And when romance finally arrived, I needed them all together.

Discovering romance books gave me the sense of normality I was craving with my whole soul. I didn’t know those desires, those fantasies, those stories could be immortalised on paper. So my late teen years became… interesting.

A lot has happened since—six years of university, my first official job, dropping a career and life to move across the continent, starting a new career and life. And finally… I realised I could publish all of these daydreamed adventures.

But my story doesn’t end here.