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Mrs. Colonel

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Today, a young Marine corporal showed me more kindness than the man I was married to for thirty years. I called Parris Island’s Protocol Office after an unpleasant text exchange with my ex-husband over seating arrangements, specifically how I would be identified at our daughter’s Marine Corps boot camp graduation. He was angry that my military dependent ID still reflected his rank and wanted to make sure I did not “steal his valor.” Embarrassed, I explained to the corporal that my ex-husband was the Colonel and wanted to be sure the service and rank were clearly understood to be his. I did not want to appear to be claiming something that did not belong to me. The corporal listened patiently before simply saying: “If you were married long enough to receive lifetime privileges, then you earned the right to sit there, too.” Earned. Not claimed. Not stolen. Not fabricated. Earned . And I unexpectedly found myself emotional over a word I had not realized I needed to hear. Because someone wh...
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I Went to Therapy and All I Got Was This Tee

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Metaphors. My therapist likes to speak in highly illustrative metaphors.  He’s the kind of guy who’d explain my life as  a Paris runway—chaotic, fabulously dramatic, and in need of editing before it falls flat on its face.   He’s the type who’d describe my mental state as a novel—half-finished, filled with plot twists, and just compelling enough to make you feel like you can’t put it down.   You get the idea.  In a recent session, I didn't just spill the tea-I upended the whole pot.  The topic? A recent verbal cage match with a relative who delivers insults with the precision and flair of Conor McGregor throwing punches at a press conference.  And it's not just her.  There's a pattern in my life of people treating me poorly.  I keep hoping it will be different but it never is.   So there I was, dramatically sprawled on a leather sofa, recounting my backstory like a telenovela star.  Tears?  Of course.  They ...
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The Poodle and the Immovable Rock

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One of the things I lost in the divorce - along with my confidence, security, and faith in men - is this guy, Lord Byron. The poodle I found, trained, named, loved, and raised for eight years. Someone once told me that all change involves loss. Unfortunately, some changes involve larger losses than others. I am trying to be philosophical about the losses. Recently, I downloaded books on overcoming grief, the power of letting go, and learning how to practice small habits to achieve remarkable results. Brené Brown. Mel Robbins. James Clear. I have been hanging with the self-help homies, trying to master the subtle art of not giving a f*ck . Some books screamed at me to unleash my inner badass, scaring the self-pity out of me like a beer-swilling, tatted-up, hog-riding Hell's Angel pushing a patron off his bar stool. Call me crazy, but I don't want my life coach to have a trail of teardrops inked on his face. I am not a glutton for punishment. I need a softer, more cer...
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Stepping Out of the Dreamhouse: How Barbie Found Her Backbone

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Shell People While rewatching Under the Tuscan Sun for the umpteenth time, I hit the scene where the heroine, drowning in the fathomless sea of grief over her failed marriage, gets a verbal smackdown from her bestie. It’s not just advice—it’s a full-on Mike Tyson uppercut of truth, delivered with deadly precision. Bestie leans forward, fixes the heroine with a piercing gaze, and says, "You know when you come across one of those empty shell people, and you think, 'What the hell happened to you?' Well, there came a time in each of those lives where they were standing at a crossroads... someplace where they had to decide whether to turn left or right. This is no time to be chicken-shit." Ring that bell, Howard! It's a K-O! Bestie delivered a skillful conversational blow that knocked the heroine out of her justifiable self-absorption. Then, Bestie did what all good referees do when a boxer is knocked out. She gave the heroine a count of eight—she gave her time to pro...
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Finding Beauty in Life’s Fractures

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Pondering. Mental health experts often speak of  five major life stressors —the kind that hit like an earthquake, shaking you to your very foundation. Over the past four years, I haven’t just encountered them; I’ve weathered their tremors, stumbled through the aftershocks, and am still navigating the rubble they left behind. They say, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  But here's the truth:  that's *insert indelicate expletive*.   What doesn’t kill you doesn’t make you stronger—it leaves you fragile, like cracked foundations after a quake, prone to buckling under the slightest weight.  Trauma is like that.  It rocks, weakens, disorientates, discombobulates, shakes, and shatters. The depression that follows is the dust cloud that lingers, settling into every corner, making it hard to breathe or see a clear path forward. Trauma transforms in unimaginable ways, like surviving an earthquake that leaves your mental landscape unrecognizable. Disoriented...
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Christmas Wishes: A slingshot and a wonky-eyed angel

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Grace Murphy was a latchkey kid.  The protagonist of  Finding Colin  was the only child of a single, working mother, which means she grew up spending a lot of time alone and learning how to fend for herself.  Now, grown-up and truly on her own, Grace dreads the Holidays. I was also a latchkey kid. I grew up in the 1970s as the only child of a single, working mother.  I wore second-hand clothes and an itchy piece of yarn with my housekey attached to it around my neck.  In other words, I  feel Grace’s pain. I was more fortunate than Grace, though.  My mother worked her slender fingers to the bones to make my Christmases special, to fill them with traditions and memories I now cherish.  (Click to finish article) 
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Ask Santa To Slip These Into Your Stocking

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I know what you are thinking, "I am still sewing my Halloween costume.  It's too early to think about Christmas!" Is it ever too early to spread a little holiday cheer?  I don't think so!  To celebrate the release of my anthology, Winter Wishes , I am bringing you, dear reader, two early Christmas gifts. My first gift is news about the 12 Days of Christmas Giveaway, an exciting reader appreciation event sponsored six bestselling romance authors -  Jules Bennett , Leah Marie Brown (me) , Allyson Charles , Kieran Kramer , Fern Michaels , and Susan Fox .   Starting on October 16, 2017, we will be giving away one prize per day for ELEVEN DAYS and a huge prize on the TWELFTH DAY (it's a fab final prize). 12 days of prizes, bonus material, author interviews, and goodies galore. To join in the fun and enter the contest, just visit 12 Days of Books! **Don't forget to visit each day to enter the daily contest and score bonus material. My second gift i...
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