Two years ago, my husband and I traveled to Greece with our newborn son, our four-year-old daughter, and the epic exhaustion of second-time new parenthood.
We’d lived on the stunning island of Kalymnos for months at a time over the previous two years, and we were returning to the apartment we’d stayed in before.
Guess what was waiting for us on the kitchen counter?
Soup.
Fish soup.
Fish soup made by our neighbour with freshly caught local fish.
Fish soup made with fish her son-in-law had caught that very morning.
(Watch the whole welcome package below, complete with sourdough bread and lemons straight from the tree)
And you know what? It didn’t surprise me one bit.
Because I am also from a beautiful Mediterranean city (Málaga, Spain), and that’s how we roll.
My grandma would have made that soup, too.
Well, maybe not my grandma. She was a bit particular.
But lots of Andalusian grandmas—what my ex called abuelas cebadoras—stuff-you-till-you-burst grandmas—would definitely bring you the soup.
I grew up in the land of come-join-us, no matter who you are or where you’re from.
And I believe in the power of stories to bring people together. To help you understand what it means to be human in a different country, culture, circumstances.
Who am I?
I’m Marina Brox: Spanish writer, mom of two, wife of one, and officially middle-aged since I turned forty in May 2025.
After traveling the world with my family for two years, from Costa Rica to Thailand, we’re now relocating indefinitely to Greece because it feels like home.
And after training as a clinical psychologist, running a successful online business for ten years, and closing everything to pursue fiction writing, I’m now focused on the biggest dream of all.
I want to launch an international career writing contemporary romance novels in English, set in Southern Europe.
I want to write universal love stories that feature my people.
Because everyone should be able to enjoy a metaphorical glass of sangría while listening to the soft sounds of a guitar and smelling the jasmine-soaked summer night air—even if you’re hiding from a ruthless Minnesota winter, or watching the rain fall behind a window in Canterbury, England.
In Books & Besos, I’ll also write about the joys and perils of reinvention in middle age, and how it feels to leave behind everything you knew and jump into the void, hoping that a sea of Internet strangers will catch you.
Because that, too—the fear, the hope, the exhilaration—is universal, no matter if you’re staring at the Aegean Sea or the vast expanse of Lake Michigan.
Enough for today, my dear lector (reader)!
I’d love to stop by your inbox every Tuesday with some olives, an ice-cold tinto de verano—or mosto, grape juice for my fellow non-drinkers—and a freshly baked personal essay, so we can get to know each other better.
Talk to you soon!
Besos,
