Charlotte Brice started writing at the age of thirteen when her handwriting looked like a drunken spider trying to navigate its way across the page. Practising her handwriting got a lot more interesting when her gran gave her two Rawhide books, and her imagination took over. Charlotte is left-handed and can lick her own nose. She lives in England with her husband and many pets, four of them human.
Attack chickens, confused dragons, and moving rocks make up the majority of the menagerie. We can't expect much better from someone who studied fruit flies during her animal science degree and then qualified as a vet. She remembers those days fondly, when putting her arm up a cow's bottom and socks on emus' heads was her kind of normality. Now her head is filled with tentacles and schizophrenic phoenixes.
Keep up with Charlotte's slightly psychotic menagerie of men and magnificent worlds on her website, or sign up for her newsletter.
Attack chickens, confused dragons, and moving rocks make up the majority of the menagerie. We can't expect much better from someone who studied fruit flies during her animal science degree and then qualified as a vet. She remembers those days fondly, when putting her arm up a cow's bottom and socks on emus' heads was her kind of normality. Now her head is filled with tentacles and schizophrenic phoenixes.
Keep up with Charlotte's slightly psychotic menagerie of men and magnificent worlds on her website, or sign up for her newsletter.
