Denise Gore Long

Blame it on Ned Nickerson, Nancy Drew’s loyal and oh-so-swoony boyfriend. Like most writers, I began my career through a love of books. As a young girl, my parents would bribe me (though they preferred reward) with a Nancy Drew novel to add to my growing library. While the intrepid teenage sleuth kept me on the edge of my seat, it was Ned who made me sit up straight.

It was only natural that I’d evolve into a romance author. I handwrote my first book at fifteen, sequestered for the summer in our finished basement. I turned it into a veritable writer’s nest and hunkered down to unleash my muse. I often wonder what happened to that first effort, but I remember it captured all my teenage angst—and a highly theoretical view of true love.

Now, many—so many—years and life experiences later, I’ve returned to my love of writing. My process has evolved from pen and paper to a keyboard and backup systems, but I still believe in hope, healing, and happily-ever-afters.

One last thing. My stories may be fiction, but my dependence on Diet Coke is very, very real.