The ocean was a sly, hungry goddess who seduced and swallowed husbands. Rarely spit out again and never seen they dove willingly into her warm folds, swam in the depth and bliss of her love only to be carried away from wives and children to distant paradises.
Can paradise be unveiled before a billowing cloud of bubbles and fish schools, or is that all part of the illusion? The lure that captured their attention bobbed on the surface like glass baubles the ones ancient druids used to interpret and determine the future.
It is not open for discussion, or interpretation. All manner of female oppression becomes central. In reality not one of those fisherwives needed a man, and the boundaries of fidelity hang wide open, like the Sheela-Na-Gig.
Jennifer Melzer spent the majority of her life as a writer denying she actually liked to write romance, only to wake up one morning and discover that every single tale she'd ever written had somehow revolved around the heart. She has since given into the whim, spinning yarns of love and firmly believing that everyone deserves a happy ending.
She lives in Northeast Pennsylvania with her husband and daughter, but dreams nightly she is laying on the beach watching the stars fall over the Atlantic Ocean.