Having been born in a small upstate New York town in the early sixties, Katherine Irving's first memories are of cows, demonstrations on the television, cows, moms with weird hair, cows, the smell of manure in the spring, and cows.

With nothing to occupy her free time besides pulling weeds from the family garden and riding the neighbor's cows, she spent countless hours exploring the rural countryside on her bicycle and scribbling stories and poems to satiate her imagination.

For nineteen years she survived the small town boredom and never-ending bawl of livestock until she shucked country living and moved south, to the beaches of Florida.

The next fifteen years were a blur of sun, fun, crazy jobs and wacko roommates. She liked to ride her Harley, attend motorcycle races—drag or track, drink frozen libations or cold beer and dream up stories. Whether lying on the beach scorching her skin, or watching blacktop reel away beneath her wheels, her imagination thrived. At times, unable to satisfy her inner voices with writing, she turned to pranks and has been known to—suffice it to say—a wild imagination without restrictions can be dangerous.

Luckily, at the age of thirty-four, the sworn single married, and within the next five years had three children, sold the Harley and moved to a lazy town in Northeast Georgia. The new lifestyle came with restrictions and she was forced to learn self-discipline.

Surrounded by mountains, trees and chicken farms (Thankfully, cows are not equipped to be mountain climbers, to which she say's "Moo!") she home schools her children, spoils her husband, tends to a wild bunch of pets—hound dogs, cats, a cranky rabbit, two tarantulas and one fat black widow spider and writes.

To learn more about this author, please visit her website at http://www.katherineirving.com.