Thankful for the Little Things

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It’s hard to believe the holiday season is upon us. This time of year is always fun yet frenzied, filled with family, parties, and of course, shopping. My inbox is flooded with sales and deals galore. As much as I love saving, to be honest I find it a bit overwhelming. It was nice coming off the Thanksgiving weekend to reflect on all I’m thankful for, which I guess helps with the transition to the chaos.

Of course I’m thankful for the big things like the love of family, support of friends, and being in good health. This time of year reminds me never to take those things for granted. But sometimes it’s hard not to stress when I think about showing everyone I love my gratitude – and the bill at the end of it. So I’m taking time out to make a list of the little things I’m grateful for. Because sometimes the little things make a big difference. 

My List:

Backup cameras and side view mirror indicators – they give me peace of mind during my commute downtown

Siri – the best around for quick fact finding (or entertaining my children). Alexa is up there too. Tell her “see ya later alligator” then repeat her next phrase. It could be hours of endless fun

Google maps – I’d be lost without it. I have a terrible sense of direction!

Magic Eraser – it really does get the stain out of anything

Trader Joe’s chocolate covered pretzel slims – a tasty indulgence. I have a slight obsession

My Zumba instructor – she allows me to keep on eating them

Auto payments – one less thing to worry about. I would love to automate everything

My Target Redcard – who doesn’t love saving 5% every time you shop?

Swell water bottles – let’s face it, they’re swell at reducing plastic in landfills

Artificial plants – I learned this was the way to go after my orchid and succulent didn’t make it

Mentha lip balm – a tingly and minty fresh moisturizer. Having chapped lips is a pet peeve

Sunny days in winter – they are few and far between in Chi town

Falling asleep to a good book – I’m a writer so it comes with the territory

All of you – for taking the time to read my blog

What’s on your list?    


Sneak Peek: Finding Forgiveness (Lost & Found Book 2)


If you haven’t heard the news, I have a new book on the horizon: Finding Forgiveness. It’s the long awaited sequel to In Search of Mr. Anonymous. Like the others, you can expect it to be fun and flirty with a healthy dose of romance. This book picks up six months from the fallout of Lucy and Luke’s choices and tackles topics such as love, loyalty, and our capacity for forgiveness. Here’s a summary of the plot:

Two scorned lovers. One chance at redemption.

Melanie Baxter was betrayed by those closest to her. She wants to believe in love, but everything she held true was an illusion. And if she’s learned anything, it’s putting your trust in someone only leads to heartbreak. Then she meets a man determined to break down the walls she carefully constructed. A man who makes her heart race with just one look. Who understands her and fulfills her deepest desires. A man who challenges her and brings out a passion she didn’t know existed. This man manages to seep into the cracks and chip away at her armor. While he may seem perfect for her, he’s the one man she can’t fall for.

James Larson met the woman he thought he was going to marry. Now he’s a man with a broken heart. A health fanatic and avid runner, he pushes himself to the limit. Anything to keep his mind focused on something other than Lucy. He runs to forget her. He runs to escape the pain. Then James meets Nicole and they bond over their similar pasts. James finally has something he wants to run toward. She is the one woman who understands him and what he’s going through. But when her ex walks back into her life, he realizes she’s the one woman who can also break him.

Both betrayed by the ones they loved, Melanie and James embark on an emotional journey to let go of the past. They soon realize that to move forward they need to look back. Because finding love again starts with finding forgiveness.

Enjoy a sneak peek of chapter 1 below!

Chapter 1



There’s a famous saying that one can forgive but one should never forget. I’ve been thinking about that sentiment, and I decided whoever said it got it wrong. Because in my case, all I want to do is forget. I guess when you’re hurt or betrayed by the ones you love there’s a desire to numb the pain. People use whatever outlets they need to cope―drugs, alcohol, or lashing out at the ones who least deserve it. Pain can cloud your judgement and take on a life of its own, becoming this living, breathing thing you want to shake but don’t know how. And that often leads to unhealthy habits. That’s the one thing I have going for me: I take my aggression out on my body and I’ve never been in better shape. After Lucy, my ex-girlfriend, broke up with me I hit the gym. Night after night I pushed my body to the limit. I welcomed the pain that burned through my veins because at least I could feel something.

I’m an optimist by nature. But she really tested my faith―in others and myself. I’m trying to get back to the man I once was. A situation like this changes you, and I fear that man doesn’t exist anymore. Winston Churchill once said, “A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.” I wish I could find the opportunity in my situation. I’m still looking.

Over time her face has haunted me less. Of course the memory is always there, but it has become a shadow instead of the sun. Until this afternoon. After work I had a dental appointment. I was in the waiting room sitting next to a woman flipping through a magazine. I never look through magazines at my dentist’s office because they’re all at least six months old. I was playing on my phone when I happened to glance up as she was turning the page. And there, in the engagement section, was a photo of Lucy and Luke. It was like a punch to the gut. Lucy believes in things being fated, but I disagree. Fate is cruel―as in this situation was a really cruel twist of fate. She chose him over me, and here is the proof in print staring me right in the face.

I don’t remember much after that. The doc could’ve given me a root canal for all I know. Somehow I made it home, and now here I am on my porch drowning my sorrows in an ice cold beer. It feels fitting as the bitter flavor goes down my throat, though I wish I had something stronger to warm my insides. But I have work tomorrow and I need to keep my head in the game. I’ve already let my team down once because of her and I vow not to let it happen again. It’s just all the old feelings I had tried to bury resurfaced with a vengeance. The pain and resentment. The disbelief and shock. The fury and fire. I know I need to channel it into something else. If it weren’t for the late hour I’d take it to the batting cages, my other place of salvation.

Just as I close my eyes I get a text notification.

Wes:    The Drifters are playing at Callahan’s on Sat nite. You in?

I don’t respond. My first inclination is to say no because I’m feeling anything but social. But I know Wes will ride me about it at work tomorrow. Jimmy’s a mutual friend and the lead guitarist with The Drifters. It’s a recent gig so I know I should go out and support him. My fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of what to type. There’s this vortex of warring emotions swirling through my head. Lucy is the eye of the storm, demanding my attention, and everything else fades into the background. With all my thoughts focused on Lucy, it’s hard to think about anything else. Frustrated, I down the rest of my beer and slam the empty bottle on the table. Sampson, who was asleep at my feet, trembles and lets out a whimper. “Sorry boy,” I say, rubbing him behind the ears.

For so long I’ve tried to forget but, just for tonight, I want to remember. Maybe it’s the nostalgia of seeing her face again. Or maybe I’ve had one beer too many. Whatever the reason, I can’t shake the urge. So my hope is if I indulge in remembering and let the memories I’ve fought to keep down come to the surface, it will help me to forget. I scroll through my albums until I find the photo of Lucy and me from my cousin’s wedding. She’s smiling and her pale eyes hold a sparkle I didn’t imagine. She looks happy. We look happy. I study it, looking for clues that maybe I missed before when I was in a state of ignorant bliss. Whatever I’m looking for I don’t find it.

I absently run my fingers over the lettering on the label of my IPA bottle. That’s when it hits me: Lucy’s letter. I head inside and rummage in my desk until I find it. She mailed it to me shortly after we ended things. I don’t remember much of what it said―I wasn’t in the best frame of mind back then. But for whatever reason I held onto it. I haven’t looked at it since, but I’m overcome with a need to reread her words. I grab my favorite fleece hoodie before heading back outside. The sun is making a slow descent, taking the heat with it.

I settle back into my chair and smooth out the paper, which is neatly folded in thirds. Her script is feminine, beautiful, and seemingly perfect. But upon further inspection, I notice she hasn’t connected all of her letters and they aren’t uniform in height. While things may look perfect at a glance, if you dig deeper you often uncover those imperfections people try to hide. My eyes skim the page, taking in the words as though I’m reading them for the first time.

Dear James,

I’m sorry doesn’t begin to describe the depths of my regret. I know I hurt you deeply and I have to live with that. But you didn’t deserve it―any of it. When we met I was in a dark place. I was burned by Luke and it left me feeling cynical and jaded. You managed to see past all that to what lies beneath. You chipped away at my armor until there was nothing left of the wall that I built. A wall to my heart. I let you in, not because you asked, but because I chose to. You earned that place and that spot in my heart will always be filled by you.

When we were together I realized happiness is possible. Piece by piece, you brought me back to life. Until there was only one piece that remained untouchable. I wish I could’ve given it to you. You deserve more. So much more than what I could give.

Every relationship leaves its mark. We go into the next with all the baggage of our prior relationships. I wish we could have started with a clean slate. If we had, things would have been different. That’s what I want for you. To start with a clean slate. Don’t let my baggage weigh you down. You have so much heart to give. I hope I only took a little piece with me.

As for Melanie, I know you think I lied to protect myself. But I lied to protect her. I wanted her to find happiness, even at the expense of my own. I’m not making my actions out to be noble, but I wanted you to know I was trying to do the right thing by her. I know now that it wasn’t. And it wasn’t right by you either. When you said I was more worried about Melanie finding out than hurting you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Because I owe you everything. You helped put me back together. You were the best kind of medicine. But I never treated the root of the problem. It’s a journey I need to go through on my own. I’ve realized we can’t rely on others to fix us. We first need to fix ourselves. And I’m trying. I’ve been trying.

I want you to take all the qualities I love about you and embrace them. Keep your heart open. Don’t let how things ended between us guide your path. Because it’s not the one you’re meant for.

Thank you for everything. And for the forgiveness I hope you’ll someday find in your heart for me.


She included a poem called Sandcastles. Lucy never showed me any of her poetry while we were together. It’s about two friends who meet at the beach. They want to build the biggest sandcastle ever. They dig and dig until a storm rolls in. One wants to give up, the other doesn’t. A few days later the boy, the optimistic one I might add, makes a new friend. She too wants to build a sandcastle. The boy says it’s too much work. But look, she tells him. We can build one right here. She points to the very spot where the old sandcastle stood. She brushes aside the top layer of sand to reveal the deep trench that lies beneath. You see? There’s already a foundation. The boy picks up his shovel and digs.

So that’s her answer? I’m supposed to start digging. The irony is I have dug myself into quite a hole. I haven’t dated anyone since we ended things and it’s as though I’ve wrapped a protective shell around myself that’s hard to climb out of. It’s easy advice for her to give, what with her being the wrecking ball that came in and destroyed what we built. She didn’t stick around to clean up the pieces.

It’s been six long months. I’m so damn tired of carrying around the resentment. It ebbs and flows, but I vow not to let it pull me under. I vow to come out stronger and find a new path. I take another long pull of my beer. Call it liquid courage, but as I stare at Wes’s text I decide a night out is just what I need. I type “I’m in” then hit send. Satisfied, I decide to call it a night. I grab the empty bottles and switch off my porch light. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go inside.” Sampson follows me, tail wagging. Looks like I’m back in the game. Yes, I will try to move on. Look toward the future. But I can’t start with a clean slate. As much as I want to, I can’t forget. Because when I saw my future, I saw Lucy.

Like what you read? Pre-order your copy from Amazon or your favorite e-retailer before July 11th and save.

Never Enough Time


Lately it feels as if my life is running on fast forward. Between working full time for a startup, the kids’ activities, juggling chores with my husband’s travel schedule, and trying to publish a book it’s hard to fit everything into a 24-hour day. Sometimes I get overwhelmed just thinking about the week ahead. While Prime has become my new best friend, there are days when I’d like to be able to run to the store to buy staples like milk and not have it be 9:00 pm. Summer is here and all those outdoor activities are still on my bucket list. I’m not sure where my free time went because even in the evenings, I’m getting caught up with what I couldn’t accomplish during the day. I have a backlog of emails in my inbox and a list of shows on my DVR with many episodes unseen. So don’t tell me what happened on the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy. As the old saying goes, “nothing in this world is free,” and I’ve decided that no time is truly “free” anymore.

I’m sure many of you can relate. In today’s hectic world there’s an expectation that we are connected 24/7 and it can be hard to wind down. Even when I power off my phone at night it takes me a good twenty minutes before I can power off my running to do list. I often wonder: how do people do it? How do they balance everything?

I’ve come to the realization that prioritization is the new balance. There are some days when it’s just not possible to do it all.

So I’ve decided to focus on what’s truly important and I will get to the rest when I get to it. While this philosophy may seem simple, it’s been freeing. I think many of us put pressure on ourselves to do it all – and perfectly. I’ve found when I try to do everything I spread myself thin and this often leads to less than optimal results. Instead I’ve been focusing on fewer things and doing them well.

My new outlook is one day at a time. It’s a simple concept but it’s really helped me manage the anxiety I feel about trying to balance everything. Rather than looking too far ahead I’m focusing on small tasks I need to accomplish. It’s much easier to think about tackling a few things in the short-term, and I feel that much better once they’re done and it’s easier to move on to the next. I consider it a small victory when I get through a day where my son had a baseball game at the same time as my daughter’s softball game and I managed to figure it out and get them both where they needed to be. Or when I was able to rearrange carpool while stuck in traffic on the highway because I wouldn’t be home in time for my shift.

I’m taking back my time by doing the things that need to be done. One of those things is writing. I’ve had the edits back on my manuscript for my latest book, Finding Forgiveness, since December. I was hoping to publish my book in late March in time for spring break. It’s now summer and I’m finally ready to launch. It took longer than anticipated, but I wanted to make sure to devote the time to do it right rather than rush and have something ready for an arbitrary timetable. Launch day is July 11th. Eleven is one of my lucky numbers, so I hope people will find it worth the wait. While there will never be enough time, we have to make the most of the time that we do have. In the infamous words of Ferris Bueller, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

What’s On My Bookshelf Tag

Love the shout out from Book Coffee Happy! I’ll take the steamy category 🙂 And be sure to check out what’s on her bookshelf. Winter break is a great time to indulge in some reading.

Book Coffee Happy


I was tagged by Grace at Delightful Narratives. If you haven’t read her blog, make sure to check it out!  It’s great 🙂


  • Link back to me so I can see everyone’s answers! (Book Coffee Happy)
  • Also link back to the person who tagged you!
  • Name one book for each category; try not to repeat books to make this more fun!
  • Tag at least 5 people

This post contains Amazon affiliate links.  Click the image below to order the book through my Amazon affiliate link.  When you order through this link, I receive a tiny commission. Thank you for your support, Xo


So I’ve checked this book out of the library THREE SEPARATE TIMES now…and I still haven’t read it.  I keep checking it out but other books always seem to come first for me to read and then I return it!  Does this happen…

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Reviews: The Good, The Bad & The Beauty


Shortly after I launched In Search of Mr. Anonymous, we took the kids on vacation to Niagara Falls. After the kids went to bed I went on Goodreads to see how my Giveaway was going. It was the first time I tried doing a Kindle promotion, which entailed me providing copies to 100 winners, and in return they were supposed to review my book. It probably wasn’t a good idea to check in while we were on a family getaway. Most people didn’t do a review at all. While it’s not mandatory, I was kind of bummed because it’s a good outlet to gauge reader reception. That’s when I saw it: my first one star review. I still remember the hot flush that crept up my neck and the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This girl, who listed herself as a book reviewer, hated my book.


I couldn’t believe it. I know it’s a subjective industry and would never expect everyone to love it as much as I do. But for her to have such a strong negative reaction was hard to take. As much as I tried not to let it bother me, it kind of ruined the rest of the trip. All of the endless hours and blood, sweat and tears I had put into writing the story were dismissed in one foul swoop with the hashtag #donotreadthisauthor. I was devastated. Since then I’ve had a lot of people tell me they loved the book. I was so glad they shared my passion for it, but that reviewer’s words were still stuck in my head. And they made me doubt myself. This book also seemed more polarizing than most. People seemed to either love it or hate it.


What’s gotten me through it is that I stand behind my work. I love the characters and the storyline. If I could go back I wouldn’t do anything differently. I think part of the issue lies with my jacket copy because it doesn’t tell the whole story, as it shouldn’t. This book is steamy and sexy like my others, and I would say it has the highest heat factor. But unlike my first two novels, it’s not light and fluffy. And I wouldn’t call it a romance. I categorized it as Women’s Fiction because at its core it’s about one woman’s journey to finding love and herself in the process. I tackle topics such as love and loyalty, and how even the best of intentions can lead to devastating consequences. So the only thing I can think is that readers are expecting one thing based on the jacket copy and are thrown when the storyline takes a different direction.


About a month ago I saw a post on Facebook from a blogger who was looking for books to review from local authors. I contacted her and we exchanged a few emails to see if my books matched her interests. Once we established we had a fit, she warned me she posts reviews, positive or negative. I took some time to think over the decision as to whether or not to send it. Reviews are a very powerful tool, but it’s scary to be on the receiving end where you have no control over how it could go. And for someone like me who’s still looking to build a reader base, I worried about the damage it could do if she didn’t like the book.


If you’ve read my other posts you’ve probably figured out I’m an optimist. So I decided that you’ve got to be in it to win it, it’s better to have tried and failed than to never have tried at all, winners never quit and quitters never win. You get the idea.


As an author, you are opening yourself up to many different perspectives and opinions. Especially when you write fiction, which is subjective by nature. I know this so I decided to embrace it – and I’ve been holding my breath ever since. Her review went live today. I am thrilled that she loved the book and connected with all the things I love about it. She took something that had been a negative experience for me and showed me the beauty of the other side. Sometimes you just need a reaffirmation that your work resonates with people and adds a bit of happiness to their day. Because at the end of the day, that’s what I set out to do 🙂


Thanks Book Coffee Happy for the love! Check out her review and be sure to enter the giveaway!




Finding Comfort in the Chaos

messy home

There’s a famous quote that says “your home is your sanctuary.”  I’d like to think that’s the case, but often times my home is far from the peaceful connotation that brings to mind. There are days when it feels like pure chaos. Toys strewn all over the floor, Legos clutter every conceivable surface in my son’s room, and piles of mail that don’t yet have a home fill many counters in my kitchen. I try to keep up with it. I clean up only to have the same mess the next day. Or mere hours later once my kids come home. Sometimes it exasperates me and when I complain to my husband he always says, “It’s called having kids.” I get it. We by no means live in a museum―nor would I want to. But I’m one of those people who can’t function when there’s a mess. I want my sanctuary.


Most days I feel at peace about the mess. But there are times when we’re in a rush and it looks like a war zone. One such occasion was on Halloween. I helped out with the class party at school. When we came home we dropped everything and it was a mad dash to get to the neighbors for trick-or-treating. Coats, backpacks, and shoes littered the hallway. Unopened mail and extra snacks were left on the counter. But I didn’t want the kids to miss out on the fun so I could clean. We met up with some friends and I was happy to put the mess behind me. We ended up splitting off in different groups and my husband was with my son and I was with my daughter. He called me at one point to check in and casually mentioned everyone was at our house for a water and bathroom break. Say what? I told him the house was a mess and I was mortified. He played it off and said no one cares. Well I cared.


I was not expecting company. Clearly. But I got over it because what else could I do? I tried to tell myself I don’t judge other people when I go to their homes. Though more often than not their homes are spotless because they had planned on entertaining. When I’ve commented about it people joke their homes don’t always look like this. I found it hard to believe because there wasn’t anything out of place. Not even one piece of mail. I wondered what I was doing wrong. And how did they keep up with the school papers, art projects, etc.?


Then I came across an article today that resonated with me. It was about a woman looking to declutter. She read Marie Kondo’s book about the Japanese art of decluttering your home. I thought, “I need that!” But as she was going through the decluttering process, she realized she was throwing away valuable memories. The method, which was meant to bring joy, was actually bringing her heartache. I get it. It seems there’s a fine balance. Too much stuff causes stress, but some of these items have an emotional value that can’t be replaced. My fridge is filled with work the kids bring home. Eventually I throw things away and they get replaced by something new. But the fact is there are memories being made, and sometimes the process is messy, just like life. So if our home reflects our lives, it’s not always neat and tidy. While my house can be a hectic and chaotic place at times, I’m trying to find the comfort in the chaos. My house is far from perfect, but I realized it’s filled with the two most valuable things: love and family. If I were to build my ideal sanctuary, that’s all that I’d need.

Believe Women


I was intrigued when I came across a full-page ad in the Wall Street Journal on Friday. It was a full-bleed yellow background that simply said, “Believe Women.” The only signoff was the bumble logo. This resonated with me and echoed a sentiment that I’ve been voicing since the start of the Kavanaugh trial. Intrigued, I went online to learn more and discovered Bumble is a female-focused dating app who published the ad in support of victims of sexual assault. The timing was key: a day after Christine Blasey Ford testified against Supreme Court nominee Kavanaugh.


My husband and I have been talking about the hearing. Regardless of which side you sit on, I told him it’s only fair to seek the truth and I applaud Flake’s request to postpone the confirmation until the FBI can further investigate. And I applaud the two women who had the power to share their story, whose voices were heard and brought about change. While women want to be seen as equal to men, the fact is it’s still an uphill battle. And while as a gender we are strong, in most cases men are physically stronger. If a man is determined to overpower a woman, chances are he will succeed.

The best tool we have at our disposal to fight back is our voice.

It infuriates me that Ford is receiving death threats. She had the courage to speak out, one of the most difficult yet bravest acts because victims are often the ones who are put on trial. With the rise of the Me Too movement, many injustices that have been buried for years are coming to light. I know many people, men in particular, wonder: why now? Why stay silent all these years? Because women were afraid. But the time is up. The time for women to speak out is now. With the solidarity of a sisterhood behind them, women are finding their voices. I hope the ad will shed light on the fact that these women who come forward are strong. And they are to be believed unless proven otherwise. Every claim and case deserves to be taken seriously.


Today is blackout day on Facebook, meaning women are replacing their profile picture with a black box. It’s a sisterhood-driven social media movement to show what the world might be like without women. The goal is to bring awareness about domestic abuse and sexual assault against women. There are two sides to this movement: those in favor and those against it. One woman who was opposed said she would not remove herself from Facebook because “it’s what the patriarchy has been trying to do to us for centuries.” I see her point. But I guess I don’t look at it as silencing myself. I see it as making a statement. There’s also women who feel it’s useless because there’s no call to action. I think it sends a message. If thousands of women make this symbolic gesture it’s the start of a conversation. So I stand with the virtual chain of women who are making a point by removing ourselves, even if only temporarily. We want our voices to be heard. It’s time to Believe Women.


Why I Decided to Make My Book Free

Out in the Open_web

It’s been four years since I launched my first novel, Out in the Open. I went into the process as an author and came out a publisher. I hadn’t intended for things to work that way, but that’s inevitably where the path led. It was a long journey and I learned a lot along the way, lessons I wish I knew when I started. But of course, hindsight is 20-20. Since then I’ve published two more books and I’m in the process of finalizing the manuscript for my fourth.


I love writing.  I don’t love selling. I don’t love website designing or manuscript formatting. But I’ve learned to do them all.

One thing I still haven’t learned: how to break through the clutter among the millions of other books.

Which brings me to the subject of this post: Why I Decided to Make my Book Free. I’ve been doing a lot of research on marketing and promotion. Many experts say you should have a book available for free. This not only helps to drive traffic and create awareness about you as an author, but it gives readers a risk-free reason to give your book a try. And then hopefully they will like it and be willing to invest in your other books. It makes sense, but to be honest when I first came across this suggestion I immediately dismissed it. I’ve spend countless hours writing and publishing my novel. So to just give it away – no thank you.


The next piece of advice that seemed to repeatedly surface was about growing your email list. This is one of those painful lessons I wish I learned in the beginning. I knew I needed to start a website and blog, but I figured I didn’t need to collect emails if I had a web presence and social media account. But it really is an important tool and one of the few that authors can maintain on their own without relying on outside algorithms to determine who sees their content. And guess what you need if you want to entice people to sign up for your mailing list? Free stuff.


So now I’m really getting the point that people want freebies. And I get it. Who doesn’t love free stuff? But I wondered what could I offer that would be enticing? Suggestions included novellas, deleted scenes, bonus chapters and the like. I toyed with creating a free novella. But then I dismissed it because I’d still need to invest in editing, a cover, and not to mention the time I’d have to put in to write it. So the bonus chapter idea was appealing. When I wrote Out in the Open, it was written in first person from my protagonist, Lexi’s, POV. But I was always cognizant of what her love interest, Jake, was thinking throughout the book. And there were some insights that I never had a chance to share with my readers about his thoughts and some connections with events that happened in the book. So it seemed natural if I wrote bonus chapters related to that book I should offer it as my freebie. But I still wasn’t convinced.


I follow a fellow author, Nick Stephenson, who gives wonderful advice (for free, I might add). One of his blog posts said you can’t expect to generate sales simply by launching a new book. There’s a myth out that that if you build it they will come. Maybe if you’re a NYT bestseller. He gave the analogy of pitching to an empty theater. If you don’t have an audience, then when you launch a book you are essentially talking to yourself. Fine, and maybe your friends and family. I’d like to say my theater isn’t empty. But there are still plenty of seats available. So until I get to the point where I’m as hot as Hamilton, his point resonated with me.


So I’m giving it a shot. Out in the Open is now available for free on Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, etc. After you read it be sure to download the free bonus chapters to hear Jake’s side of the story. I’m interested to see how this goes. My dream is that one day I will have a theater full of people eagerly awaiting my next performance. And perhaps get to the point where people will want to scalp tickets! Until then, I hope they enjoy the freebies. And for all you Hamilton fans, I’m willing to wait for it. 🙂


Book Launch Day! And Why I’m Not Afraid to Fail


It’s hard to believe the day is finally here: the official launch of my third book, In Search of Mr. Anonymous. It’s been a year in the making, and quite a journey for me. You’d think it would get easier the third time around, but this has proved to be the most challenging yet because there were some unexpected bumps along the way. Not with the plotline―writing is always the easy part for me. I’ve had this story idea mapped out in my head for a long time. It’s my favorite among the books I’ve written thus far. I just hope I did it justice because sometimes the way I imagine something isn’t necessarily what comes across on paper. While I still consider it fun and flirty, the tone is more serious than the first two and I tackle some heavier topics. But I tried not to stray from my formula, which is a bit of heat and a whole lot of heart. More on that in a minute.

So you may be wondering where the challenge lies. I’m a self-published author and thought I had a pretty good formula when it came to the publishing part. But once my manuscript was ready, I discovered the company I previously used to handle the editing and interior page design no longer offered those services. That led to lots of research and endless manuscript formatting. I’m talking hours of adding code to my manuscript so things like text message exchanges and fleurons show up correctly. I’ll admit it’s not my forte and I’d much rather stick to writing. I’m also branching out to new channels, so there was a learning curve there as well.

All of that hard work will pay off once it’s in the hands of readers. But that’s also the most terrifying part for me because they will be judging my work, which I know is part of the process.

Writing is like putting a piece of yourself out there for all the world to see.

And the truth is I’m more of an introvert. Some of my friends may disagree, but really I’m most comfortable not being in the spotlight. And now I’ll be under the bright lights and the scrutiny begins. So you may wonder why I do it. I often wonder the same thing. The answer is because I love it. I’m not doing it to become a best-selling author, though that would be nice! Really I just want to entertain people and bring a bit of happiness to their lives. There’s nothing like reading a positive review from someone and knowing they were touched by something I wrote. It makes me feel fulfilled that I gave them a piece of happiness in a world where we need more of it. On the flipside, there’s nothing more defeating than reading a negative review. Everyone says not to read your own reviews and I try not to, but let’s face it, how can you not be curious about how people feel about your work? I know you can’t please everyone, so I try to focus on the positive and not get discouraged. But it’s tough sometimes.

Now onto something more fun. I mentioned earlier my formula is a bit of heat and a whole lot of heart. That brings us to the topic of sex. Yes, I write about it, and there’s a lot more of it in this book than my others. Does it make me uncomfortable knowing people will be reading it? Yes and no. I hope that readers will be invested in my characters and realize this is about them and their desires and motivations, not mine. I think it’s easier with strangers than people I know. But I feel like I just need to own it because it’s important to include. I’m not setting out to write erotica, and in reality the sex scenes comprise maybe 5-10% of the book overall. But in a Romance sex is an important part of feeling the chemistry between the characters. Blame it on EL James, but she brought it into the mainstream. And I feel like there’s almost an expectation that people want to see what goes on behind closed doors. So I like to give a little taste. Especially in this book because the premise is a one-night stand where my protagonist falls hard for a stranger, so I felt it was important to establish their connection, both physically and emotionally. Still, it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that people are reading these scenes. Not so much my friends, but when my sixty-something cousin says she plans to read it, I’d rather she didn’t. Seriously. And for the record I have a vivacious imagination. While I use some personal experiences to shape my characters, they are all unique with their own motivations and challenges. So I tap into those qualities when writing my scenes, not just my own. Just wanted to clear the air on that topic because I’ve been asked.

Last but not least comes promotion. I’m a marketer and have over fifteen years of experience in the field. But ironically it’s the part I hate most about the process. The reason being is that I’m not marketing a product, but I’m essentially marketing myself. As I said earlier, I’m more of an introvert and I hate sales. So to have to promote my book is somewhat torturous for me. I love what I do and hope that word of mouth will take over, but that’s not gonna cut it to reach the masses. So here I am talking about it with you all 🙂 Anyway, whatever will be will be. Like my protagonist Lucy, I’m a big believer in fate. At the end of the day I’ve put out a book I love and that I’m proud of. I always tell my kids just do your best. Even if you don’t do well, as long as you tried your hardest that’s what counts. That’s why I draw inspiration from the image I chose: “Don’t be afraid to fail. Be afraid not to try.”

I wasn’t afraid to try. And for that I haven’t failed, no matter the outcome.


If you’d like a sneak peek of my book check out my previous blog posts for a look at some sample chapters. And if you want to buy an e-book the links are below. Paperback is due out next week! Thanks for joining me on my journey.

Sneak Peak: In Search of Mr. Anonymous

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 1

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 2

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 3

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 4

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 5

Buy your copy now by clicking on the icons below. My pre-sale e-book price is $2.99 and will go up to $3.99 on 4/30. So buy now and save!

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In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 5


This is the last chapter I will be posting for In Search of Mr. Anonymous. Thanks to those of you who’ve followed along and I hope you’ve enjoyed the sneak peek. It’s hard to believe my e-book is launching tomorrow with the paperback shortly to follow. I’m nervous and excited – more thoughts to come on that. In the meantime, enjoy the read! Note: this chapter contains adult language/content.


Chapter 5


We step out onto the sidewalk and I rummage in my pockets for my gloves.

“Are you OK walking a few blocks?” he asks.

“Sure. I don’t mind the cold.”

“Are you sure? We can Uber it.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Winter’s my favorite season.”

“Why’s that?”

“I love the snow. People around here think it’s a pain, but I think it’s beautiful. Especially right after it’s fallen and a perfect blanket covers everything, untouched by anyone.”

“I’ve never been so lucky to see that in the city.”

“It’s usually late at night or super early. When most people aren’t up. Or they just haven’t gone outside yet.”

“So are you a night owl or early riser?”

“Neither. Sometimes I work odd hours. Oh, and I love watching puffs of breath crystalize before your eyes. And the bite of cold air against my skin. It makes me feel alive.”

He nods like what I said makes perfect sense. Suddenly, I slip on a patch of ice. I try to catch my footing but he’s right in front of me to shield my fall. He grabs ahold of my shoulders to steady me with a grip that’s strong yet reassuring. I look up at him and when our eyes meet I feel this electric pull that makes my heart go into overdrive. His heated gaze falls to my lips and I attempt to still the butterflies that are swarming inside me. I know he wants to kiss me, but I’m not ready yet. I want the first time to be special―not while we’re standing on a very public sidewalk with strangers passing by. He leans in but I quickly pull away and mumble “thanks” instead.

“What about you?” I ask as though that moment didn’t just happen. “What’s your favorite?”

I can tell he’s disappointed but he plays it off. “Fall. I love the change of the season. The vibrant colors. The crunch of the leaves. And apples. I’m a big fan of apples. Never leave home without one.”

I assume he’s kidding. But then he pulls one out of his gym bag, shines it on his coat, and hands it to me. I eye it critically.

“It’s just an apple.”

“Haven’t you ever seen Snow White?” I ask.

“I can’t say that I have. But I know the story. And for the record, I typically don’t need to poison my dates to get them to sleep with me. Lucky for me they go along willingly.” He gives me a pointed look.

I shrug. “I was just kidding about the Snow White thing. But you should save it for later,” I say, handing the apple back to him. Instead of sliding it into his bag, he takes a bite.

“You know, apples are rich in symbolism,” he tells me. “Temptation and all that.”

“Knowledge too.”

“Knowledge is power. So maybe you’ll tell me your name?”

“Maybe. But isn’t a night between strangers more interesting?”

He stops me. “Regardless of what happens, this night is already one of the best I’ve had in a long time.”

I smile at him shyly. “Me too.” He takes another bite, this one slow and deliberate.

We walk the remaining distance in silence aside from an occasional crunch and footsteps of people passing by. I’m just too nervous to make small talk. In my wildest dreams I never could have imagined that I’d be having sex with Coffee Guy. Let alone getting turned on by watching him eat. I don’t know if it’s because of what the apple represents, or if I just like looking at his mouth and imagining all the things he’ll do with it later. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. He tosses the core in a trash bin and takes my hand.

“We’re here,” he says, stopping at a nondescript building. Instead of going through the front door he leads me through an alley to a side entrance. It has a small neon sign above the door that says CUSP. I follow him inside and it’s not what I was expecting. We’re in a swanky, dimly lit club. The walls are draped with rich, paneled fabrics with the exception of the bar area, which is painted black and adorned with framed records and photos of musicians. At the front is a stage, a lone music stand its only companion. The rows of red velvet banquettes create a sense of privacy and give the club an intimate feel. I soak in the details from the elaborate designs on the tin ceiling tiles to the ornamental carvings on the columns that flank the stage.

“What is this place?” I ask him.

“It’s a jazz club.”

“You like jazz?”

He nods. “Let’s get a drink and I’ll tell you about it.”

We slide into a banquette and I’m grateful to have somewhere to set my bag down. Coffee Guy asks me why it’s so heavy and I show him my day planner.

“You seriously carry this thing around?”

“Everywhere. I need easy access to my schedule.”

“You know, there’s an app for that.”

I laugh. “I know. But I’m a visual person and I like being able to see all my appointments on one page for the full month.”

“Are you a technophobe or something?”

“I’m not. I swear. It’s just a work thing. But remember we’re not talking about that.”

“OK. Let’s look at the drink menu instead.”

We peruse the list and he asks me if I’m hungry.

“Not terribly because I had some appetizers earlier. But unlike you I didn’t snack on the way over, so I’m not opposed to ordering something light.” He smiles at me and I feel a nervous energy deep in the pit of my stomach.

“You choose, Ms. Coffee. Appetizer or dessert?”

“Appetizer. How about the toasted mac ‘n cheese balls?”

“Interesting choice. I would’ve pegged you for a dessert girl.”

“Oh, I am. But I have no willpower. I’m a compulsive person and I find it hard to stop when something good is in front of me. So I avoid the temptation.”

“Interesting strategy. That seems to be a theme this evening.”

Before he can press me on it I’m saved by the arrival of the waitress. She asks what we want to drink and I notice how she fixates on Coffee Guy. She’s probably wondering what a guy like him is doing with someone like me. A martini seems fitting so I order one along with the appetizer. I can feel him watching me during this exchange and thankfully I don’t get flustered.

“What?” I ask him.

“I have one request.”

“What’s that?”

“That we vow to always tell the truth. No pretenses.”

“Naked truths. Got it.”

“I like the sound of that.”

I swat his arm. “You’re such a guy. Always thinking about sex.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. No man will tell you different or he’s lying.”

“Why is that?”

“Because sex is fucking amazing. I’m not sure I need to say more.”


“Oh? Tell me you’ve had amazing sex.”

The truth is I haven’t. I shrug, embarrassed to admit it.

“Seriously? Wow. You’re lucky you picked me then. That’s about to change tonight.” He looks at his watch. “It’s just after ten. We can spend the next few hours talking and getting you comfortable with this arrangement. And once the clock strikes midnight, it’s all about sealing the deal.”

I nod even though I’m not sure I’ve agreed to his proposal.

He looks me over, letting his eyes travel slowly from my face to the hem of my dress, lingering on my legs.

“Usually when you give someone the once over you try to be discreet.”

“If you haven’t noticed, discreet isn’t my style. I just wanted a taste of what’s to come. Pun intended.” I blush. “You know what, Ms. Coffee?”


“I think there’s a lot of passion inside you that’s just waiting to be unleashed. I can tell by the way you challenge me. I like it,” he leans in and whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

The waitress arrives with our drinks and I take a long swallow. I didn’t notice she set a glass of water next to me and I accidentally spill it―all over Coffee Guy’s lap.

“I’m so sorry.” I attempt to blot it with a napkin, mortified at my clumsiness.

“Now look who’s getting frisky,” he says with a smile.

I know he’s only teasing, which makes the heat that’s rising to my cheeks all the more embarrassing.

“Sorry,” I remove my hands from his lap.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s a good thing it’s a cold drink. I think I have spare clothes in my bag. I’ll be right back.” He heads to the men’s room to change and I take the few minutes to collect myself. He comes back wearing a comfy-looking black waffle shirt.

“I see you found something to wear,” I say.

“A shirt, yes. New pants, no. I do have a pair of gym shorts, but I didn’t think they would be appropriate attire.”

“Sorry,” I say again.

“Why do you keep apologizing?”

“I don’t know.” I think he’s getting the gist I’m unsure about this whole situation. And that he makes me nervous.

“Time for the first naked truth.”

I take a deep breath. “Lay it on me.”

“Why did you agree to do this bet with me?”

“Because of your ringtone.” He looks confused. “It’s ‘Viva la Vida,’ which means ‘live life.’ I took it as a sign.”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“Well you’re lucky that I do,” I inform him.

“This is true. So are you one of those people who reads their horoscope every morning? Just how superstitious are we talking?”

“I don’t read my horoscope or avoid walking under ladders, and if I owned a cat it would be black. It’s my favorite color, by the way. But I do believe in asking the universe for guidance when I’m faced with a big decision. Or sometimes the signs are there, whether you’ve asked or not.”

“I’m still stuck on your reference to universe.”

I shrug. “I’m not a very religious person. But I love astronomy. Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘It’s written in the stars?’”


“So, there’s your answer.”

He takes a swig of his beer and eyes me over his glass. “How did you get into astronomy?”

“It’s more of a hobby. When I was young I had this ritual of looking out the window before bed. It started because I was searching for the wishing star. One night when I couldn’t find it, my dad pointed out a cluster of stars that looked like a bird. I found it fascinating that the stars could make pictures, so I insisted my dad tell me stories about how they came to be. As I got older, my dad pointed out the constellations and told me that I was right, there were indeed pictures in the sky. For my ninth birthday he bought me a telescope.”

“Do you still have it?”

“It’s at my parents’ house in Virginia. It didn’t make the move with me. But whenever I go home to visit it’s there in my room, waiting for me. I love seeing the stars up close. They’re so luminous and beautiful. Don’t you think it’s amazing some stars formed billions of years ago and we can still see them today? It’s like we can see a window to the past.”

“I’ve never really thought about it. But I can tell you’ve got a passion for it.”

“I do. It’s something I’ve never talked about with anyone besides my dad. Sorry, I guess I got on a roll.” I’m embarrassed I got carried away. I usually don’t share this much.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s interesting.”

“So now you know about one of my passions. Your turn. You were going to tell me about your love of jazz.”

Just then the waitress arrives with our appetizer. I take a bite and it’s so delicious I let out a satisfied groan. Coffee Guy is watching me with an amused expression.

“It’s so good. You’ve gotta try it.”

“Oh, I will. And that noise you just made, next time it will be because of me.”

My eyes widen as a slow heat travels straight to my core. I attempt to speak but the words won’t come.

He pops a ball in his mouth and doesn’t seem phased by the fact that I’m rendered speechless.

“You’re cute when you blush,” he says.

Damn my ivory complexion. It gives me away every time.

“So, jazz,” he starts. I’m glad to be back on neutral territory. “Are you a fan?”

“I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I like jazz music but to be honest I don’t know much about it. How did you get into it?”

“My grandfather. I grew up listening to the greats like Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, and Louis Armstrong. I was immediately taken with it. There’s a richness to the music that’s hard to describe. I guess I would say it’s smooth and soulful. And it’s something you experience rather than just hear.”

“What do you mean?” I prop my chin on my hand, waiting for him to continue.

“I feel the notes here,” he says, placing his hand on my heart, “rather than just hearing them. Your heart’s beating pretty fast.”

I nod, unable to form words. I’m sure he knows he’s the reason.

“Anyway, I also love that jazz musicians strive to have their own personal sound. Like they want to put their unique stamp on it. I know this because my grandfather took me to a jazz club one night. I wasn’t technically allowed to be there, but he was a regular and no one said anything. Watching them live, it was awe-inspiring. It’s like you could feel their emotion from the notes they played. The instruments became their voices, and I felt like they were talking to me. I fell in love with jazz that night.”

I realize that I’m finally catching a glimpse of the real man behind the façade. His guard is down and I like what I see behind the cocky exterior.

“That’s why I took you here. I know it’s a big step for you, agreeing to sleep with me. Most women would be lining up, by the way.”

I lightly elbow him in the ribs. “You were doing so well.”

“In all seriousness, you’re not like other girls. And I like that about you. I also recognize that you’re willing to share something very intimate with me. So I wanted to do the same. I’ve never brought anyone here before. It’s my place of refuge when I’m stressed or need to find solitude. You’re the first person I’m sharing it with.”

Wow. I’m touched by his words. On impulse I lean in and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek. He’s surprised by the gesture, and frankly so am I. He touches his face where my lips were moments ago and for once seems at a loss for words.

“Thank you,” I say as I place my hand on his. “It means a lot you’re willing to share that part of yourself with me.”

“You’re doing the same. It’s only fair that I try to even the stakes. But for the record, I wanted to share this experience with you. I decided to bring you here even before you agreed to the bet.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. But I do know his words seem to cement the promise that lies between us.

“Dance with me,” he says.

“There’s no music.”

“We don’t need music.”

“Umm, in my experience you do. But I’m not a big fan of dancing.”

“Maybe you just haven’t had the right partner.”

“Maybe. So tell me about this club.”

He moves my hand to his lap and laces his fingers through mine.

“It’s different than most traditional Chicago jazz clubs. Cusp focuses on finding up-and-coming talent. There’s not a set schedule aside from the eleven thirty show. I discovered Buddy Vaughn on open mic night and he’s become a club favorite.”

“Do you come often?”

“It’s kind of sporadic. But lately I’ve been going to the open mic nights. I like the draw of discovering new sounds. And these guys are hungry to make a name for themselves, so they work that much harder. And the collaboration among a group who’s never played together before is pretty awesome to witness. The thing about jazz is that it’s spontaneously composed. The same song will likely never be performed the same way. Often it’s more about the way a song is played than what song is played. The musician takes his cues from the group and performs based on the feeling they have at the time.”

“Kind of like improv.”

“Exactly. They do have a pre-determined tune though so it’s part planned and part spontaneous. They create their interpretation in the moment. And now you’ll get to see for yourself.”

The lights dim and Buddy Vaughn takes the stage. I close my eyes and focus on the sound of his saxophone, its rhythm slow and soothing. As the notes wash over me, I feel a sense of calm that usually only comes after an hour of yoga. The song ends and he breaks out in a jazzier tune. And in my own moment of spontaneity, I take Coffee Guy’s hand and lead him onto the dance floor.


That’s a wrap!

Intrigued? (I hope so!) Reserve your copy now by clicking on the icons below and save! Pre-sale e-book price is $2.99. After the launch the price will go up to $3.99.

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Did you miss my last post? Be sure to check out the prior chapters at the links below.

Sneak Peak: In Search of Mr. Anonymous

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 1

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 2

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 3

In Search of Mr. Anonymous: Chapter 4