Before I wrote thirteen books, I was working a job I hated, swamped with the responsibilities of a family, and struggling to find any time for myself. One of my favorite things was to to read, but sometimes it seemed impossible to carve out the time to do it.
The one time I could sneak away with no chance of being disturbed was when I took my bath before bed. It became my secret pleasure to lay back in a sea of bubbles and read a chapter or two of my current favorite novel from my author of the moment.
That was my sinful little escape from the world. My boring little menage a trois. The house could have burned down and I wouldn't have cared.
I often read notes from readers stating that they struggle to find time to read and I think back to those stolen moments and smile because I know, just like me, they sneak a few pages in here and there, possibly while surrounded by bubbles.
Where do you read? Do you read a few pages here and there, or do you devour books in marathon sprints?