Confessions of a Book Addict

I confess. I suffer a serious addiction. Books.

Lots of people share this affliction, but I’m here to admit that it is very, very real.

I probably read about two books per week. One per week if I’m busy. One per ten days if I clean my house. There. I admitted it. My house suffers due to my addiction to great books.

If I find a fantastic title with developed, well-rounded characters, an intriguing plot and inspiring setting, I’m hooked. I can’t help myself, but I get sucked in and become a part of the action. I get to know the characters. I dream about them and find myself thinking of them during the day. While reading exciting scenes, my heart races as if I’m there. I shed tears when I lose love or life along with those characters.

I’ve been this way since I was able to read.  I had friends growing up who were paid per title to read. My parents told me we couldn’t keep buying new books; I had to use the library. Even now, my mom asks me all the time, “How do you find time to read so much?”

The honest truth is that I read to the detriment of my other responsibilities. My favorites are the books written in series. You get to know the characters and miss them when the book ends. These wonderful authors give us addicts the gift of book series. I get myself on the wait list at the library for two or three books in a series at a time, knowing that I won’t want to wait to devour the next story to find out what happens to these new friends.

If I ever answer the door to you and step outside instead of inviting you in, chances are good that I’m in the midst of an addictive series and my house is a wreck as a result of the neglect.

I am a book nerd. I’ve been teased for always having my nose in a book pretty much all my life. But I’m okay with it. If you share this addiction, then check out my books page. I hope to share my favorites and get more recommendations from all of you. Grab a mug or a glass and curl up with your favorite.  Happy reading!