Because Reading Can Save You in So Many Ways

I’m in my own personal heaven as I’m sure many the book blogger and readers currently are. There is an influx of reading material floating around out there ready for anyone to grab. And trust me I’m grabbing.

I’m grabbing at a capacity where I was actually worried my Kindle would combust with the amount of memory I was asking it to hold. But needless to say, that baby is holding up quite well.

Reading is just as important as writing in my world. Yes, it is great for escaping into a land or situation that is not your own, one that is so fantastically loving, hot or dramatic but for me it is so much more.

I need it. My brain needs it. Reading slows my thoughts down in a head where there are so many random thoughts that fly around at a speed that is guaranteed to run you over and leave you lying on the ground gasping for air.

It allows my head to focus on one thought, one story and quiets the constant chattering, the constant noise allowing me to breath. Breathing is important. Just as important as quiet still moments are. And because of this you will never, ever hear me complain there are too many books in this world.



I had a job to do.
An assignment I had been hoping for.

To anyone else it might have appeared easy.

Interview the well-known plastic surgeon, Dr. Kean Bennett.

Determined to succeed, I powered right into it.

Except the man hated the media with an inexplainable passion.
And he despised me for being another annoying journalist chasing a story.
His story.

That’s when I screwed up.
I gave the surgeon the power to destroy me.
Complete obliteration.

I’ve always believed there could be good hiding in the darkness, but maybe I was mistaken.

My problem?
I came to that conclusion much too late.
I had already risked my life to get what I wanted.

Warning: This book contains scenes that may be disturbing for some readers.

Ambivalent Available On Amazon


Determined to snap myself out of the imbalanced mess I was sinking into, I channeled my energy into searching the internet for every piece of information I could find on my subject. I spent hours with my eyes glued to the monitor all for the sake of research.
Or at least that’s what I repeatedly told myself.
There was hardly any information online about Dr. Kean Bennett, which I expected. However, there were more pictures of him available than I had originally thought. Much to my fascination, one thing was apparent. The doctor enjoyed the company of the opposite sex. Like, really enjoyed. There were dozens of photos with breathtaking beauties draped all over him like accessories to his wardrobe.
I enlarged thumbnail after thumbnail, unknowingly taking my time as I perused each one.
Then I stumbled upon a photo that had my mind floating away in a carnal haze. In it, the doctor had his hand fisted in the hair at the back of the neck of a striking brunette as he kissed the hell out of her. It was as if he refused to ask politely for a kiss but instead demanded her mouth with a passion I didn’t understand.
I lacked experience when it came to demanding men. My dating history consisted of tender moments with men treating me as if I was fragile. They seemed to think I would break with the slightest pressure or roughness. But in this photo, the doctor appeared nothing but rough.
As I took in the fervor of that kiss, imagining what it would feel like to be the one he was kissing had my core fluttering. Would he barely brush his mouth against my lips, so teasingly soft it would feel like a feather had brushed across them? Or would he force his tongue into my mouth, ripping from me whatever the hell he wanted?
Dangerous thoughts swirled around loosely in my head. My foot tapped anxiously against the floor, matching the pulsating between my thighs.
It was then I was a hundred percent sure Dr. Kean Bennett was dangerous.
I hardly knew anything about him, yet I recognized he held the power that could destroy every inch of the carefully constructed layers that protected my soul. Layers so important to my survival because they kept contained secrets of the girl buried underneath.
For my own sanity she remained there, never exposed to the world because if she were, I knew I couldn’t control her. She was the type of girl who wanted none of the gentleness in her existence but instead craved a roughness that would cause her to explode.
I couldn’t allow her to escape.

Buy now on Amazon

Well, Hello 2018

2018. New Year, New Goals.
But what if I don’t want new ones.
What if I want to expand upon the ones I have been striving for?
What have I been striving for, you ask?

Well, let’s see….
– To publish a book. (Which I did, but wasn’t satisfied with the attempt. My second book is complete, waiting for the editor to review and should be out in Feb. 2018. I have started writing my third and my writing improves daily. I am happy with where I am trending in this area.)
– To continue to balance life and listen to my inner soul. (I believe in letting my soul guide my decisions. Some people may think I’m crazy, but your soul always speaks to you. You just have to listen.)
– To use what I’ve learned in life to help others whether it be people, animals or the environment. (Life is a complete waste if you can’t help someone or something else.)

This is a year of change. Day one of 2018 and I find myself preparing for a move with both work and home- to another city at the end of the month. This wasn’t exactly made by choice but out of necessity due to business life happens. It has been a bit rough, mainly because of the close relationships I have formed with my work family, but I get it. I’ve been here before and am old enough to recognize nothing can last forever.

As I watched the pathway of life fork in different directions and I made decisions on which road to take, my mind was ticking away. It still is.
When I was younger all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be an adult, but making adult decisions is hard work. And scary.
Don’t get me wrong. No way in hell do I want to go back to being a child and no, this isn’t a complaint, just an observation.

Life wasn’t made to be easy. It was made to be a challenge.
Fortunately, I like challenges. I prefer to push myself to surpass them rather than sit on my butt and let time pass me by.
And although this change is hard, it is good for me. If nothing changes you don’t grow.
I want to grow.
Some days the need to expand my world is so tremendous I have to stop myself from flinging over ledges in search of something new.

This new year I accept the change.
I more than accept it, I embrace it.

I am not a negative person. I will not complain. Besides, you can’t complain about situations you accept. Or, you can but it is unwarranted. If you are not happy then walk away. Make the decision to do something else. Choose a different path, one that makes you happy and never, ever let anyone hold you back. (Many time wasters will try.)

I have a tremendous amount of hope for 2018.
It’s going to be a great year.
I can feel it in my soul.
And if all else fails, I’ll pick up a book.
You would be amazed at the answers you find between the pages of other people’s words.

Word Lover/Romance Book Writer

I love words.

I love the freedom they allow. How they float overhead and meet in unity to tell a story.
Any story you want to tell. There are no limitations.

But writing them comes with a ton of work. It requires patience. Which is something I massively lack.

There are days you have to wait for the story the words are forming to unfold itself, while other times you have to work through periods when creative juices don’t want to flow. Then there are those nights when you are too tired and worn out from your demanding day job and you don’t have the energy in you to type a single word- even when you very badly want to.

A final draft can be terrifying and wreak havoc on your self-confidence. I often question every single sentence, determined I can make it better. Disappointed because it doesn’t seem good enough. Taking them to pieces because my grammar sucks.

Writing books is one of the hardest and biggest challenges I have taken on, but I am on the right track. I know not everyone will like what or how it turns out in the end, yet I also know this is what I am supposed to do. I feel it a thousand times over.

All these years, all those voices echoing in my head are stories waiting to come out.
Crazy? Nope, not I. I can prove it. Watch as they blossom onto pages.

And when I’m done and my story is complete, the feeling of accomplishment that resonates in my chest is a high that has me addicted.

My mind is on fire. It can no longer suppress stories or characters. While I work on one book the next is weaving its way through my thoughts. Growing and stacking as each day passes.

If I don’t write the words down fast enough I fear I might lose them. So, I find myself forever writing no matter what other mundane tasks I am involved in.
I swear my brain even writes in my sleep.

That being stated, my second book took much longer than the first.
I reasoned it was okay. I was fine because the first one is really bad writing due to I not having any earthly idea of what the hell I was doing.

Until somewhere, in the middle of my second manuscript, my lack of patience started to mess with me and I found myself doubting I would actually complete it.

With each frustrated breath, the importance of taking my time with my words kept sounding an alarm in my head. I knew for the sake of my characters I needed to reach deeper inside me in order to surface emotion onto the pages, if I wanted to reach the next level of writing. If I didn’t want it to turn out like the first book.

So, now you’re wondering if I was able to, right?

I was. To some degree. But a huge part of me didn’t like what was resurfacing. I slapped up a wall faster than I could blink. I was left feeling misunderstood and awkward. And alone.

While this entire process played out for the past six months, I busied myself with my social media accounts. I used them to help give a reprieve from my thoughts and find new books to submerge in. One can never be alone when lost in a book.

But imagine my surprise when through social media I stumbled onto the best possible discovery EVER.

By being my awkward, lonely self and following what I am truly passionate about, I walked into a world of book bloggers, other authors, and people who adore the written word as much as I do.

I suddenly knew I belonged. I found where I fit in. My niche. My tribe. My fellow romance lovers. The amount of support I’ve seen and felt, for each other, especially in the romance genre has amazed me. They root for one another, share each other’s works, and recommend books endlessly.

When my day goes down the tubes (which occasionally happens), I know I can escape into the tribe and find what I need to make the next step. It’s encouragement via powerful force. Encouragement that understands. I have never been more excited to be part of something in my life.

I’m proud to be in this world. I’m proud that this is MY world.
And I don’t plan to give it up anytime soon.

I’m just getting started after all.