I’ve always been fascinated by the end of the world. My shelves are home to books like Swan Song, The Last Ship, I Am Legend, The Road, The Stand. My Netflix queue is peppered with shows like the History Channel’s Life After People and the incredible BBC television series, The Survivors. (Oh, Tom, how I love you.) I reread these books and rewatch these shows from time to time, and I have yet to tire of them. Most people fantasize about what their lives would be like if they were rich or famous or, better yet, rich and famous. I fantasize about what my life would be like in the event of an EMP.
But I’m also a hopeless romantic. Hence, the whole romance writer thing I have going on. After all, my copies of Jude Deveraux’s Knight in Shining Armor and Nora Roberts’ Donovan series are cozied up to The Passage and On the Beach, just as the Life After People documentary sits snuggled next to Sleepless in Seattle and Notting Hill. Good thing, too. They’re gonna need the body heat after the electricity goes out.
So given my love of everything post-apocalypse and everything romance, it was only natural for my slightly warped psyche to conflate the two. The result? A romance set after a plague wipes out over ninety-nine percent of the earth’s population. So bring on my Four Horsemen! Just make sure they’re wearing shiny armor.