A Keeper of Stories

For over thirty years, I was a keeper of other people's stories. As a special collections archivist, my days were spent in the quiet, orderly world of forgotten letters and leather-bound diaries, surrounded by the thrilling, secret-filled lives of others while my own remained safe and predictable.

As my children grew and my life grew quiet, I felt a profound sense of stillness, of a future already written. For my 60th birthday, I took my first-ever solo trip to Northern Spain, a place I'd only ever read about. In the ancient, rain-slicked streets of Oviedo and the wild Cantabrian Sea, I felt a creative energy I hadn't felt in decades.

That trip cracked my world open. I returned home and realized my safe life had become a cage. It was a difficult, terrifying decision, but I knew I wasn't running from a life I hated, but running towards one I had just discovered. I took an early retirement, packed my books, and moved to Oviedo to see if the woman I'd met in the Asturian rain was who I was truly meant to be.

Now, I spend my days exploring the misty coasts and historic plazas, fueled by strong coffee and the thrill of uncovering new secrets. I write the kind of epic, secret-filled historical romances I always loved to read, inspired by the knowledge that it's never too late to write your own story.