Like with nearly everything in life, our sexual appetites aren’t always as matter of fact as black and white; neither is love, nor romance. There is a wealth of negative space in any single one of those principals. This concept fascinated me while I was outlining my novel — boy meets girl, but it’s rarely so simple…so, boy is seriously fucked up / girl is beyond innocent, how would they survive? Could they survive? In a bedroom world which is defined by our personal boundaries and mores, is compromise an ideal we strive for or an actuality we can really obtain?

Voyeurism, in its purest form, is the act of looking on while someone engages in “private” moments — undressing, sexual activity, or other (I will leave it up to your imagination as to what other could mean). And like with any sexual proclivity that is left of normal, you either find it intriguing or disturbing. But the truth is most of us are voyeurs. Yes. You didn’t misread that. We are all voyeurs. If you want reality television –anything from The Real Housewives to Survivor to The Real World — you’re a voyeur. If you people watch, which is such a benign thing to do, you’re a voyeur. So truthfully, it’s all a matter of degree.

I’m excited to open this world up for us all the watch as the love story unfolds on the page.