My next book is called The Friendship Pact. I've been working on it for the last few months, although the idea behind it has been playing...

There have been so many days and nights where the pain has been so bad that I can’t sit still.

“Frankie’s like those little cars at the circus. You keep thinking there can’t be anything more, but clowns just keep pouring out ..."

He shared something he loved with me―something he loved with all his heart and soul―and it became a part of me.

There it was. A true-life analogy that made so much sense, she couldn’t believe she’d never seen it before.

I was too worried about a limited word count. I wasn’t digging deep enough. I was afraid. She was telling me I needed to do better.

This may well be the year of the dumpster fire, and it’s taken a lot from me, but I’ll be damned if I let it take my twinkle lights.

You don’t have to worry about flights or hotels, or the fear of a global pandemic, and hey, we have a beautiful coastline ...

I give Mouse the patience I am hoping to find from myself and others. I’ve learned that even with all our flaws, we can still be worthy

If I'm lucky, the characters will take off on their own and do whatever they damn well please, leaving me to chase after them ...

I caused myself a lot of pain by uttering those two words when I should have been asserting myself and establishing my right in the world.

There was a pathway that led from the back of the house, across the yard and to the garage that was lined with cheerful white daisies ...

The ghosts were throwing a party. They hadn’t invited me to their shindig, but I was there.

The sun was hot on the top of her blonde head, and she wanted to hear the rush of Crabtree Falls so much it nearly made her skin itch.

You might not know me, but I’m here to tell you that you’ve got this. As long as bandwidth holds out, you can totally do this.

Twenty-one likes? There have actually been twenty-one people who have read my musings about a Patricia Cornwell novel? Why? I have no idea.

There’s a jumble inside my head and there doesn’t seem to be a clearly marked exit anywhere. I’m not worried about it. I’ve been here before

December 17th was the release day for Next Day Gone, my eleventh book and second thriller. Will there be more from me in this genre? I’ve...

I understood words. Whispers, shouts, endearments, reprimands … not all of them were pleasant, but at least I understood them.

That nagging feeling was back. It visited from time to time like that unwanted guest who seemed to show up at the least convenient time.