It’s Black Friday! And you know what that means, right?

A sale!

I’m running a kindle daily deal on Seventeen Days. From now until midnight on Cyber Monday, you can one-click your copy for 99¢.

Follow the link below to grab yours today.

Click here to buy from

Click here to buy from

I Am Thankful For…

November is the time of year when people seem to say what they’re thankful for. Thanksgiving is the day we do it more often than not. Years ago it used to be only on Thanksgiving. Now with the help of social media, people are able to say every day during the month what they’re thankful for. My whole thought process is this…

Why only use this month/today to state what we’re thankful for? 

We should be thankful everyday that we’ve woke to greet another morning. I know, I am.

While I may have had a mostly down week, I’m choosing to put that aside and think about everything good in my life. This year I’ve had many blessings. I’ve also had more than my share of hard times. (Haven’t we all?) Anyway, I’m going to join in on the cliché and share some things I’m thankful for this year.

My family. Above all they’ve been my rock, my sounding board, my safe harbor. By now you’ve probably read the acknowledgements in my book, (or the dedication!) and you know how much my family means to me. Most days I don’t know what I’d do without them to lean on.

My friends. Y’all, my friends are the shit! I know without a doubt, if I needed ANYTHING, they’d be there in a heartbeat to help. Some of them I’ve never even met in real life. It doesn’t mean I love them any less. One group of friends, has helped pull me through some of my darkest times simply by being there.

Sunshine. I know, weird right? I’m thankful for the sunshine. Why? Because it rises every single day and reminds me that this thing called life is beautiful. It makes me happy. My skin may not like it very much. but I do.

Dr. Voogd & Justin.  Another weird one, am I right? Who thanks their doctors? This chick. Why? Because they listen to me. They don’t toss medicine at me and hope it helps my issues. They don’t use medical terms to confuse me. They simply listen and treat me like a friend. Not a patient. Not a number. They never rush me. And together I have all the faith in them that they’ll help me with my back issues. Even if it’s more surgery, I know that I can trust in these two.

My freedom. I’m thankful, I’m an American. This year has been absolutely insane. The presidential election. Police shootings. Racial profiling. Terrorist attacks. Hate crimes of all natures. It’s truly a scary time in our lives. But yes, even with all of this, I’m thankful I’m an American. For now, I still have all my rights. We may not know what the new President Elect is going to do but I’m choosing to believe he’ll do right by my country.(crosses fingers) I’m free to speak my mind and write this post. I’m free to love who I want to love. No matter their skin color, sexual orientation, or if they’re a foreigner here illegally. Right now, I’m free to love whoever I want. Love is love is love. Free.

Indie Authors. Since hitting publish back in August, I’ve become part of a gang. A super cool gang. The indie author community. And they rock my socks. I have this group of authors (some even traditionally published) that I can lean on and ask for advice. They’ve all been in my shoes, or will be shortly. I love them. We push each other to do our best and help build one another up. It’s amazing. Which brings me to my next subject…

Books. I’m thankful every single day for my books. Books take me away to worlds unknown. I can be a wizard, an enchantress, a faerie, or a college student who meets a rich businessman. Books let me be whoever the hell I wanna be. ❤

Music. Again like books, music takes me away. For 3 1/2 minutes while listening to a song, I’m taken away to another time. I love every single second of it. Music is my vice.

Tell me… what are you thankful for? 

Adventures on the road. Part 2

You may be wondering what happened on the rest of my journey cross-country. Well, you’re in luck, I’m about to tell you. After the incident with the Joyride truck, we pulled the 5th wheel into our park in Nashville. We had arrived. I was home for the next few days. Ah. All should’ve been well, right?


When we opened the door we were greeted with melted ice cream, EVERYWHERE.

Not 1, not 2, not 3, containers of ice cream. No. We had to have 4 in the freezer. All brand new and unopened. Why? Because that shit was on sale. I’m talking cheap as heck. $1.25 cheap. We loaded up the freezer. Ice cream for us is a treat, we rarely even buy it. And besides, we knew it would be fine in the freezer, it would survive the journey. We have the freezer that is supposed to stay sealed, and not come open while traveling. No matter how many bumps we hit it’s always stayed closed.

Until now.

Want to know what a pool of melted ice cream looks like? My kitchen floor. At 8 o’clock in the evening. On a Sunday. In Nashville. After driving for nearly ten hours. And being chased down by the truck from Joyride. (I may actually be going insane.)

Pops is swearing.

Mama is flabbergasted.

I’m… numb.

I mean, I did survive the whole trucker incident, even if that was in my head. The point is, I’m tired as hell, my back is killing me, and all I want is my bed. But no, thanks to our mother-trucking freezer, we get to clean up ice cream for a good hour before any of that happens.  Thank you, pain medication. 

So, I leave Mama in the car with the fur-babies, and I go in to start cleaning up. We both know that Pops isn’t going to do that along with setting up the trailer. It’s up to us to clean up the melted goop. After all it was us who bought it.

I swear if avoiding stepping in melted goop was an Olympic event, I’d win the gold. I weaved my way through the mess like a champ. All on my way to the bathroom to grab some towels to sop it up, before scrubbing the floor.

I grabbed 4 towels. My whole theory was, 4 tubs of ice cream, 1 towel per tub. Again, I was wrong.

Did I mention along with the liquefied goo, there were chocolate malt balls, gobs of peanut butter, hunks of cheesecake and other bits of candy? No? Well there was. TONS OF IT.

By the time, I’m on my second towel, Mama has joined me in my cleaning venture. My back can’t take much more and we’ve barely made a dent. It’s under boxes, the cooler, cupboards, Frasier’s litter box, even on the carpet.

I feel like crying.

Mama forces me to stop cleaning, take some of pain medication for my back, and to rest. Only problem is, I can’t really rest anywhere. Because… ice cream.

After nearly an hour, the mess is mostly cleaned. We’ve trashed at least 6 towels. The trailer smells like PineSol instead of peanut butter. (#NotWinning) And we’re finally going to give in and call it a night. Hopefully some sweet dreams will be found soon.

Days later, I’m still finding melted ice cream in weird places. Like splashed on my car. Only way I can figure it ended up there was when we tossed the trashed towels out the door.

I think it’ll be awhile before I buy ice cream again.

Adventures on the road with D.B. 

I’m a traveler.

Or at least I like to think of myself as such. Counting this year, I’ve been a “snowbird” for 3 years. We started our grand journey cross country late this fall, and instead of leaving in October we’ve only left this last week.

Yesterday was… interesting.

After we left Michigan, we stayed in Indiana for a few days, while a couple of things were looked over on the 5th wheel. Once all was well, (or as good as it will be until the spring) we left for the open road and the city lights of Nashville.

If you know anything about me, you should know that I love Nashville. It’s hard to explain but it’s like as soon as I step out of the vehicle, the city calls to me, telling me that I’m home. Okay, cheesy moment over. Let’s get to the good stuff. The creepy stuff. Yep. Creepy stuff.

Our drive through Indiana was for the most part uneventful. We waved while driving by the Vera Wang warehouse, cried while passing by the Ulta warehouse, and even shed a few tears when we passed the Nestle bunny.

It all started once we crossed the Kentucky state line. Literally.

Louisville is normally a nice drive for us, we love looking at all the cool architecture while checking out the skyline. We like passing the airport, ballpark, cute little shops, etc. Yesterday was no different in that aspect. It was still fun. But, we were greeted with a big traffic delay on the bridge leading into the city. All was well, Mama & myself were watching the people in neighboring vehicles, (I’m talking to you truck full of hot Army dudes!) all while keeping an eye on Pops behind us in the truck pulling the 5th wheel. Traffic eventully shifted into one lane, but that was okay. It wasn’t that long of a delay, besides we could use the little break it gave us. Once we came upon the source of said delay, the tables turned. It was what appeared to be a one truck accident. Mama and I were checking out the damage and not paying attention to the traffic MOVING ahead of us. We were stopped dead. Causing the traffic behind us to stay stopped as well. While we gawked at the damage of the accident causing the delay in the first place. What broke us out of our trance was a big, and I mean big, police officer screaming at us to move.

We should’ve known then our adventure was taking a turn.

After passing through Louisville fairly quickly, we lost Pops. Yes people, we completely 100% lost my dad. He went one way when the highway split (the wrong way, I might add) while I went the other. So, I pulled off to the side of the highway right after the split while Mama called him. We nearly died. Do not ever stop on the side of the highway. At least not where it splits. At least move a little further ahead. Every single time a semi passed in those few seconds, I thought my little car was going to be ripped in half. Before the phone call to Pops was finished, I was pulling back into traffic. Screw it, he could meet up with us later. So that’s what we did. We drove about 15 miles and met him further on. We also made him turn on his directions so that he wasn’t lost if he was seperated from us again. Disaster averted. For now.

About an hour later, we’re singing along to the radio, when I glance up into my rearview window. What I saw scared me. Correction. What I saw creeped me the fuck out. Why? Because it was the same semi that had been behind me for awhile now. (Pops was behind him.) Normally this wouldn’t scare me. Not at all. I’m cool with semitrucks. I dig ’em. Just not this one.

Nope. Nope. Nope. 

Do you remember the movie Joyride w/Paul Walker? It’s about two brothers on a roadtrip who mess around with a trucker on the cb radio. Let’s just say that what happens isn’t pretty.

And this semi behind me?

It’s similar to the semi from Joyride. Not the same colors but it scares me just the same. Why? Because every time I glance up, it’s gaining speed and nearly eating my car. Think I’m lying? Uh eh, am not.


During my mini freakout, I grabbed my phone and took a video of the truck in my rearview. (I know, I know, it was dangerous. Sorry, but I needed proof!) So what do I do next? Slow down of course. Because I wanted this truck to pass me. I wanted him gone. Buh-bye, see ya later, that’s all folks! Instead of mearly passing me he gains speed, and almost eats my car, again.

What should I do now? Speed up? Change lanes? Slow down and pull over?


Before I can voice my struggles out loud, he makes the choice for me. He finally passes me. Whew. Bye dude. It was nice knowing ya. Kinda. Maybe. Okay, I’m lying, it wasn’t nice knowing you!

Phew, I can breathe again.

By now though, Pops needs to stop for gas. So we pull over in Elizabethtown. Our stop takes us around twenty minutes and we’re back on the road. It won’t be long now before we see the Nashville skyline. Crossing over the Tennesee state line, Mama needs to use the restroom so we stop at the welome center. I’m putting the car into park, while glancing up into the rearview mirror again, to see where Pops parked.

Holy. Shit. The. Semi. Pulled. In. And. Parked. Right. Next. To. Pops. 

I’m yelling to Mama about the truck. Freaking-the-fuck-out. While at the same time trying to hide behind my steering wheel.

How did he end up behind us again? What are the odds that he’d park next to Pops? Is he following us? OMG is it like Joyride for real, only ya know, without the cb radio?

Mama is laughing at me, while she gets out of the car. She’s not waiting for me to attempt to make myself smaller and disappear. She has to use the restroom. So do I, but you know, I want to live. But I mean, it’s only a movie right? So I get out of the car and hurry as fast as I can, inside the building. When we make it back outside, Pops is waiting for us with Teagan (our dog). Mama pulls him to the side and points out the truck and tells him the story. The both laugh at me.

I mean, I guess it’s funny.

And maybe I watch too many movies.


Pirates. ARGH!

Let’s take a moment to talk about pirates.

Sadly, I’m not talking about Captain Jack Sparrow. Although we can take a teeny tiny second to appreciate all the goodness below.


Okay, eye-candy session over. Back to business. Pirates suck. Unfortunately once you hit publish (sometimes even before) someone is bound to upload your book baby to an illegal pirating site. I’d love to say this hasn’t happened to me but it has. Seventeen Days was uploaded a day before it was live. That means that someone who was trusted with an ARC copy by either myself or the promotions company I hired, posted it before anyone was able to buy it. Did this hurt my sales? Yes. Sadly, I’ll never know exactly how much.

Why am I bringing this to light 10 weeks after the fact? Because I just spent the last couple of hours blasting a site that has my book, (my precious book!) posted on their website page by page for anyone to read. For free. When I offer my book for free if you subscribe to kindle unlimited. When I also am more than likely to offer you a copy to read via Instafreebie out of the goodness of my heart.

Pirates suck.

They make me feel like shit. Like no matter what I do, I’ll never win against them.


So today instead of spending the day reading & resting after getting eight pain injections in my back, I’ll spend it using Blasty looking for pirated copies of my book. Sigh.

Two months…

It seems like only yesterday that Seventeen Days was released into the wild. AKA kindles everywhere. But in reality it’s been two months. 

Two months, in which I’ve asked countless times if I’m dreaming.

Two months, since I’ve been able to officially call myself an indie author.

Two months, for readers to fall in love with Harrison & Morgan.

Two months, since the day I sat numbly in shock while Colleen frickin’ Hoover shared my book on her Facebook page.

Two months, and a handful (26th posted yesterday!) of reviews on Amazon.

Two months, since my life changed for the better.

Two months, y’all.

Two months.