With the release of my newest Entangled Lovestruck title, Protector for Hire, I’ve fielded a lot of questions about how I came to be an author of risqué romantic comedy.
For a simple answer, all you have to do is look at a naked photo of me.
No, really—there it is.
I’m not sure how old I am in this baby picture, but it’s clear I’m deliriously happy to be buck-naked. You could attribute it to the notion that all freshly-baked babies prefer to ditch their duds, but then I’d have to point you to another photo of me refusing to wear a shirt while riding my bike at age 6.
Hey, if the boys could do it, why couldn’t I?
Setting aside my lifelong love of nakedness, it’s clear my childhood holds a few other clues to my future profession. As my mother loves to remind me, she dreaded taking me to petting zoos and farms. As soon as we’d arrive, my first course of action was to get down on all fours, check out the critters’ naughty bits, and announce, “Wow, Mom, he’s really got a huge one!”
When I wasn’t running around naked or admiring genitals, I was usually cracking jokes about one or both of those subjects.
Considering that’s sorta what I get paid to do now, I’d say I’ve found the perfect career!