About Deborah Jean Miller

And please…call me Deb.

My Bio

Deborah Miller yearns to live in the Garden of Eden where perfect people live in a perfect world and love reigns. 

While here on earth, she recently retired from a long career in the advertising industry where she used her talents writing spellbinding instructional training manuals–much to the delight of her co-workers.

In the second phase of her life, she has accomplished her dream of penning the story that has been simmering in her brain for over fifteen years.  And, she is currently writing her next novel. 

When she’s not thinking about writing fiction, you can find her in the kitchen experimenting with new recipes, volunteering at the Salvation Army, or using her acting chops to simulate patient cases for medical students at a major university.

Deborah lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband–a wonderful man who’ll eat anything she places in front of him.  She enjoys traveling, especially to California and New York to visit family.  

Next up on her bucket list, a culinary vacation on the Isle of Capri in southern Italy–the land where lemons grow.

Snippets of Deb

first job

Worked in a supermarket wrapping meat. I once left my fishy smelling shoes on the back porch and a feral cat ran off with them.

Picnic on the green

A group of us youngsters packed a picnic lunch and spread it out on a beautiful grassy plateau with a cute little flag...until we were chased away by a man wielding a golf club.

Vino

If I could start over, I'd study Viticulture & Enology and pursue a career in the wine industry as a winemaker or stomper.

Recurring nightmare

I find myself somewhere far away from home without access to my makeup and hair products. I awake in a cold sweat.

Budding Entrepreneur

Made my first batch of cranberry jelly at the age of nine and sold it door-to-door, offering a taste to neighbors using the same spoon. I made $5.00!

Uncontrolled behavior

During inappropriate times (e.g. funerals) I've been known to double over, choked with laughter. My brother once felt compelled to wrap his arm around me, feigning comfort.