So, let me take you back to where it all started. Picture 12-year-old me, sneaking into my aunt’s room (because obviously I had no business being in there, but what 12-year-old actually listens to rules?). I spotted this little paperback on her shelf—white cover, giant circle in the middle, two white people on the front with their hair blowing dramatically in the wind like they were auditioning for a shampoo commercial.
Did I know what the heck I was reading? Nope. Did it spark something in me? Absolutely. From that moment until I was about 17, I lived in a world of back-to-back white romance stories. I enjoyed them, but honestly? I just told myself I’d imagine whoever I wanted while reading. That worked… until the best day ever happened.











