Lexi George photo

Lexi George

Lexi grew up in South Alabama in a rural community with one flashing light and a small country store that sold everything from gas to pickled eggs. Her father, a circuit judge, collected clocks — chiming clocks that binged and banged all night long in rhythm with the trains that chugged and wailed down the railroad track not a hundred yards from Lexi’s girlhood home. Needless to say, Lexi is a very sound sleeper. And to this day, the lonely sound of a train whistle does something to her.

She grew up surrounded by cotton fields and wide open spaces. She was a major tomboy. Dressed in a boy cousin’s hand-me-downs, she ran barefoot, climbed trees, played in ditches, and picked sun-warmed dew berries off their prickly vines. Sometimes, her parents drove her into town to play with her city cousins. They played dress-up, made forts, charged up and down dirt mounds in noisy games of King of the Hill and chased the mosquito truck on their bikes.

Lexi’s mother was a high school English teacher who instilled in her daughter a love of reading and books. The muse first struck Lexi in the third grade, when she began to write poetry. Bad poetry.

She continued to flay the English language throughout high school and college.

And then she went to law school and the muse left her.

The muse HATED law school.

Lexi wasn’t too crazy about it either, especially the rule against perpetuities, but with a public relations major and English minor, it seemed the sensible thing to do.

After passing the Alabama state bar exam on her first attempt, Lexi got a job as an appellate attorney with a big state agency where she’s happily worked ever since. Her day job involves writing briefs and reading criminal transcripts – transcripts where people do rude things to one another.

In Lexi’s experience, the human capacity for rudeness is unlimited. No doubt, a daily diet of man’s inhumanity to man . . . and woman . . . and children . . . and dogs and cats is somewhat responsible for Lexi’s desire to escape reality in the pages of a good book. Preferably a romance, her favorite genre.

Demon Hunting in DixieSome fifteen years ago, the muse abruptly returned from Fiji or Wawbeek or wherever the heck she went, and Lexi started writing again. Novels, not poetry. She joined a writer’s group and wrote and wrote and wrote.

DEMON HUNTING IN DIXIE, a paranormal romance, is her debut novel. It is peopled with funny characters and sexy demon hunters and lots of supernatural woo woo. And the other kind of ‘woo woo’ as well.

The story has a happy ending.

Since being traumatized by OLD YELLER at the age of nine, Lexi is all about the happily ever after.


“And if Bitsy was so all-fired set on everything being perfect, she wouldn't have scheduled the damn thing on a football Saturday. Nobody's going to miss the Alabama game for a wedding, for God's sake. We'll be lucky if the priest shows up." ~Aunt Muddy”
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“A part of her, the female, horny part she generally tried to ignore, sat up and took notice when he smiled, the shameless hussy.”
Lexi George
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“Fall in Alabama was menopausal: hot one moment and cold the next.”
Lexi George
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“College football was a religion in Alabama, and Saturdays in the fall were holy days.”
Lexi George
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“On the freak-out scale, she was past the 'heebie-jeebies' and into 'pee yourself'.”
Lexi George
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