Ann Swann was born in the small West Texas town of Lamesa. She grew up much like Stevie-girl in The Phantoms series, though she never got up the nerve to enter the haunted house.
Ann has done everything from answering 911 Emergency calls to teaching elementary school. She lives in Texas with her husband, Dude, a rescue cat named Oscar, and a part-time box turtle named Piggy.
When she’s not writing, Ann is reading. Her to-be-read list has grown so large it has taken on a life of its own. She calls it Herman.
Stutter Creek (book one) is a romance, brilliantly hidden within a suspense-filled tale of a psychotic serial killer with a chip on his shoulder. It is also a classic tale of young love lost, and a life of regrettable what-ifs.
Slowly, she raised her face. The top of her head barely grazed his shoulder. She had to stand on her tip-toes even though he was leaning down—then their lips met, and the brilliant rays of sunlight falling through the pines illuminated his face like that of a saint in a stained-glass window. “Saint John,” she laughed.
He laughed with her.
He looked up from unloading his truck just as Turk came crashing through the underbrush. The huge Shepherd was so excited to see his master that he stood straight up and placed his giant paws on John’s chest. On anyone else, the paws would have landed on shoulders, but John Stockton stood six feet four inches tall in his stocking feet. With his lug-soled boots on, he was easily six and a half feet.