My name is Greta. Believe it or not, I’m the troubled kid that never said much in class. Most of my wardrobe consisted of Goodwill finds and my mother’s hand-me-downs. I never volunteered for team sports, and I wouldn’t be caught dead at a school dance. As an adult, nothing has really changed. Now, in addition to my many idiosyncrasies, I smoke at least one Blackie a day, I’m uncomfortable in large crowds, and I like making people smile.
At the age of twenty-five, I’m a practicing Dominatrix, and I live with my slave in a cute little apartment near the open desert. As an author, I love inviting readers into vast new worlds. I’m known for populating these lush death traps with ruthless men, ill-behaved women, scheming elderly, and the irreverent Fenris the Cat. A diverse cast, thrilling action, sophisticated world building, dark humor, and passionate romance are the only constant elements in any of my stories, and I’m always on the lookout for interesting mythology and folklore to explore.
Since no author’s biography is complete without the mention of pets, I’m the proud owner of a ridiculously intelligent rat named Quintus. He’s a teenage rat now, and he never fails to remind me that the house is his, the slave is his, that cat is his, the glory is his, and the Cheerios are his too.
I love to hear from readers. Leave a message after the scream!
Greta’s Favorite Quote
No weirdo has rocked the bells as hard as me since Quasimodo. ~Watsky
Fan Question – Why are there no pictures of your face?
I’m a practicing Dominatrix and I transcribe for reality television. Some of my clients are kinda scary. I like to keep my writing life and my professional life separate. Makes surviving in all three industries much easier. Oh, and I’m ugly.
Fan Question – I’m mixed. Puerto Rican, Cherokee, African American. English is my second language. I speak a total of three.
My parents were both active duty military when I was born; one retired from twenty years in the service, the other is a career criminal with about twelve years of prison time under the belt. They’re both incredibly special to me. I will always be proud of them.
My ancestors lift me up.
I primarily grew up in the South (think Virginia and North Carolina), Japan, Puerto Rico, and a few other assorted destinations. Favorite destination in the world: Germany.
(Sue me, they let me smoke my cigarettes wherever I want, AND they have awesome bread.)
I drive like an old lady. Actually, I’m told I exhibit lots of old lady behaviors: my disdain for anything that involves leaving my house, my pink plastic reading glasses, and my longtime obsessions with shopping catalogs, knitted things, and fat babies.
I’m a hardcore graphic novel/comic/book nerd. I’m one of the snobby ones that walks around Comic Con correcting people about Batman’s boot size.
Lots of people ask me who my favorite superheroes are.
Just so you know…Batman was my first love. Wonder Woman is my great love. I secretly wish for Superman’s total destruction.
Also, Deadpool can suck my dick. I hate that guy.
My favorite song (in English) as of right now.
Fan Question – My favorite song (in Spanish) as of right now.
Fan Submission – Because gay men read my books and they want people to know what they rock in the
“Why do they call us twinks? Because we’re the cream of the crop, and those other motherfuckers are the black shit at the bottom of the barrel.” ~Big T
You fools are the shit. I’ll hit you up next time I’m in Stat.
I played a Kitsune in my first DD game, and I played opposite my critique partner/business partner.
She played a Russian strix. No one does Russian accents like her. (Not even Russians.)
I can draw. My concentration in high school was human anatomy. My mother was my first source of inspiration, my first model. She’s a gorgeous woman, and I was always transfixed by her musculature. I still draw naked people for fun.
If threatened, I will break out into sarcasm. Or song. Or Shakespeare. Depends.
Now you know someone who can honestly say they’ve been in bar fights.
(Totally got my ass kicked. Every single time.)
I plea guilty to the charges of ridiculous gaming marathons. By the end of these 30 – 40 hour stretches, I smell like a foot, there’s Cheetoes in my bra, and I’ve reverted to Frat Boy ibonics. Word up. True story. It’s real talk. Believe it, bitch.
Fan question – No, I have never rapped my own bars. It’s not my medium. That question made me laugh.
Thanks, I needed that.