Jayme Whitfield grew up in the wilds of Florida, a region where epic tales from the past collide with the sun-drenched reality of the present. Immersed in stories of sunken treasures, rumrunners, cowboys and Indians, juke joints and promiscuous women, the small town where she lives has evolved into a duality of gang violence and oil-soaked tourists, drugs and the natural beauty of paradise. She wouldn’t trade it for the world, even if she does have to dodge the occasional hurricane.
When she’s not digging through stacks of historic documents at the local library or haunting the coffee shops looking for the best brew and free WiFi, Jayme can be found traipsing through a marsh with her husband and children in tow, a camera slung over her shoulder. She also enjoys watching cheesy science fiction movies, quoting Douglas Adams, theoretical physics and loom knitting.
At home, she loves to relax with a good book, but more often than not the stories are drowned out by a chorus of characters in her own head; a menagerie of voices waiting for their tales to be told. After trying to ignore those voices for years as she wrote for trade magazines and a local paper, Jayme finally gave in and turned to the spicier side of storytelling.