As soon as I learned to read, I wanted to write. It’s been a long, long road. In the 1990s, I sold two stories to Robert Bloch (of Psycho movie fame) for Psycho Paths and Monsters in Our Midst. In 2013 I self-published a coming-of-age novel, Getting By. As far as I can tell, nobody’s ever read it—not even the free sample—certainly no one’s bought it. You would think this might be depressing, and there have been years-long stretches when I wrote nothing but chatty letters and an occasional letter to the editor (the kind beginning, “I view with alarm …”). But the writing fits always re-surfaced, rather like malaria.

An Unsuitable Duchess germinated after I’d been re-reading Georgette Heyer’s delightful romances and contemplating the fact that there would never be any more, Ms. Heyer having died in the 1970s. I wondered if I could write a similar novel—accurate background, humor, romance, interesting characters. While An Unsuitable Duchess didn’t really resemble Heyer’s books, I thought it was worth trying to find a publisher. And here we are.

I worked the assortment of jobs typical of writers (customer service in a hospital billing department, light bookkeeping in a commercial print shop, paralegal, security officer). In 2008, I moved from Seattle, Washington to Albuquerque, New Mexico.