writing in second grade, furiously recording her hopes and dreams in aÂ denim-covered diary. Besides hanging out at the library, she loved soaking upÂ the raysâ€”while reading a book, of course. During her sophomore year of high
school, Wendyâ€™s family moved to Carson City, Nevada, and she thought her life
had ended. The desert, sagebrush, and cowboys were a far cry from the ocean,
palm trees, and surfers of Florida. Fortunately, within six months, the family
relocated to Lake Tahoe, and her outlook improved dramatically.
followed by a year at the University of Nevada in Reno and two years at BrighamÂ Young University, where she worked as a reporter and copy editor for The DailyÂ Universe. A decision to take a short break from school turned into a
twelve-year college hiatus in Lake Tahoe. After a two-year stint in the civil
engineering program at California State University in Sacramento, Wendy
returned to Colorado and graduated from CU with a degree in English Writing. It
was a long, but valuable, educational journey.
Northern Nevada, close enough to Lake Tahoe to enjoy the beautiful scenery but
far enough away to escape the heavy winters.Â She lives with a wonderful
husband and a golden retriever whoâ€™s often mistaken for a sloth. Her
twoÂ brainy and creative sons make her want to be smarter. Wendy hopes somedayÂ to journey to the stars.
with the intriguing Michael Winter leads her over the Sierras to Lake Tahoe,
where sheâ€™s nearly abducted. As she escapes to Colorado, she struggles toÂ unravel who she is and where she came from; instead the mystery of her identityÂ deepens.
entered the hospital morgue, Dr. Burns and Penny each took one of my arms as ifÂ they could protect me from what was about to occur. A faint, sickly odor
emanated from the icy cold, meticulously clean chamber. A somber technician
guided us to the bodies which were covered with sheets and lying side by side.
I shuffled over and braced myself as the covers were pulled down to reveal what
Something deep inside of me reacted to the man and woman. Both were blond andÂ sharp-featured, and the womanâ€™s fingers were long like mine. Even though I
couldnâ€™t identify them, I felt certain these people meant a great deal to me. Tears
of sorrow mixed with frustration sprang to my eyes. Were these really my
parents? Would I ever remember?