My mom read to me pretty much every night growing up and my big brother had shelves lined with comics, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Heinlein, Tolkien, Asimov, Bradbury, Robeson (Lester Dent), and so on and so forth. I fell in love with it all.

In fifth grade I wrote my first novel ... a Doc Savage/Tarzan mashup. (There were snakemen, people. Snakemen!)

Fast forward and I'm now much (much) older than my fifth-grade self, and I see today's world of indie authors as a throwback to the golden era of pulp magazines. And it's a wonderful thing.

I live in Denver with two Chihuahuas, where by day I write user guides for a software company and by night, or rather by early evening because, you know, late nights are a thing of the past, I write about an Irish family of monster hunters.

Don't let my last name fool you, I'm half Irish-y (with dabs of Welsh, Scottish, and English mixed in).

And now we're all caught up. Thanks and take care.