Anne Halle grew up in a small town in Louisiana, which explains a lot.
Raised where the food bites back, the humidity has opinions, and everybody knows everybody's business—including the business they were specifically trying to keep quiet—she developed an early and entirely reasonable appreciation for creatures most people had the good sense to run from.
As a girl, she was far more interested in monsters than the boys at school. The monsters, at least, were honest about their teeth.
These days, she writes paranormal romance that is hotter than a Louisiana summer and twice as shameless. Her heroines arrive broken and leave formidable. Her love interests have claws, bad reputations, and zero interest in being tamed. The bedroom doors stay wide open. She regrets nothing.
When she isn't writing, she's wrangling her own growing family of monsters and arguing with the very loud characters who live permanently in her head, none of whom have ever paid rent.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
