Sydney Stevens

Sydney Stevens writes romance novels about enormous men with enormous feelings and no working vocabulary for either.

For anyone sent here by a friend, the genre in one sentence: a man who can carry a refrigerator up a flight of stairs meets a woman who is not impressed by that, and then falls completely apart about it for three hundred pages. Do not knock it.

She lives in Arizona, where it is 114 degrees and everyone has agreed to stop bringing it up. She writes at hours a doctor would ask about, keeps a notes app full of entries like "he apologizes to furniture," and has stood in a checkout line composing a scene so unhinged she had to put the bananas down.

Her books always end happily. That part is non-negotiable. There is always an animal with a personality problem.

Hit Follow and Amazon will tell you when the next one lands. Free, one click, and very kind to a woman who has been rewriting the same line of dialogue since Tuesday.