Natalie E. Wrye

Writer of Sexy Romantic Suspense.

FOOL’S GOLD (A Kisses & Crimes novel) is LIVE!


I can’t tell you how freaking excited I am!

FOOL’S GOLD (A Kisses and Crimes novel) is a Sexy Suspenseful Mystery & Standalone.

It is FREE on Kindle Unlimited and $0.99 for RELEASE WEEK ONLY!

Fool’s Gold (US)




The G&D series is on the move!

Ok, guiseee.

The THIRD and FINAL round of the Games & Diversions series has been released from its temporary KDP-Select prison (and don’t get me wrong; I LOVE KDP Select, but…):

It’s OVER.

Minute by Minute is available NOW on iTunes and iBooks–and soon, Kobo.

Minute by Minute teaser

Am the only one excited…?

YEAH, don’t answer that question.

Just click the links! 😉


Relax, Relate, RELEASE

This week was a strange week for me. It was a strange week for America.

“Strange” is putting it lightly.

I found myself needing the weekend to just relax, relate, and RELEASE – in more ways than one.

I wrote until my fingers couldn’t write anymore. I purged. I purged EVERYTHING.

Some may make it into my novels. Some may never see the light of day.


If you’re reading this-wherever you are-remember this:

We ALL need time to ourselves-healing time, decompressing time-time for GROWTH.

I took some time today-this weekend.

And it felt good. REALLY GOOD.

It got my focus back on what I love the most – WRITING, and the story that’s currently in my head and heart: The Deal – my newest “frenemies-to-lovers” Romantic Mystery.

I wanted to share a bit before I sink too far back into my weird Author bubble AKA “the writing cave” and I forget.

Find your cave. Appreciate it. And use it when you need to, guys.

Hope this tickles your fancy while you’re in it…

The Deal Teaser #1

A hand—strong and undeniably warm—falls on my lower back, gripping me.

I turn.

“Back already?”

But it isn’t Reed.

Eyes the color of jagged pine stab me in a thousand different places on my body all at once.

He runs a cursory glance over my figure—no more than a second or two—and I feel shattered, my subconscious scattered all over the place as I try to come to grips with what I’m seeing.

Who I’m seeing… and why he’s here…

My director. Mister Impossible.

And the last person I’d expect to see at my ten-year class reunion.


And his eyes are fixated on me in a way that could only be described as ablaze.

Or murderous…

Fire aspires to be as intense as his stare is in this moment; it scorches right through my skin… and I tremble against my own will.

“We need to talk,” he almost growls, sending my sensibilities through the roof.

My hand lands on his arm involuntarily, nearly pushing.

Jesse… What…? How…” I search the room frantically with fearful eyes. “What are you even doing here? This is… I’m obviously in the middle of something here.”

A splash of red decorates the normally pale skin at his neck, and broad strokes of black peek beneath the collar of his white v-neck t-shirt.

He pulls me in close—close enough to see the beginning of a hidden tattoo, and I swallow. Hard.

His touch is familiar—intimate.

To the passerby, we’d look like two lovers sharing a secret.

But this is only the second time he’s ever put his hands on me.

The first time, I’d wanted him to touch more. And honestly, this second time isn’t turning out to be much different than the first.

His hold is firm, but freakishly tender.

He draws his face to mine.

“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” he rasps harshly.

My heart thunders in my ears. “Know what?”

“Come off it, Brooke. You thought I wouldn’t find out?”

“Find out what?”

Words are failing me. I can’t form complete sentences with him this close. Touching me. His hand wrapped around my waist.

Jesse leans in, nearly bringing us nose-to-nose.

“I know what you did…”

Shit. I bite my lip.

That damn Andy spilled the beans.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I bluff.

“No, I know you know exactly what I’m talking about…”

His brown eyes virtually smolder, and my carefully waxed legs go secretly weak at the knees.

And for the first time in my life, I can’t tell if the crazy little motion is out of fear… or something that is scarily close to being desire…

A day of memorial, sun and fighting relatives


(As you can tell by the title…)

I was going to write about Memorial Day/my dad’s 60th birthday back home in Jersey.

I was going to get into a huge spiel about the DRAMA that going back home/visiting my extended family brings and how cousins’ boyfriends get smacked by uncles and uncles get punched in the face and uncles fight nephews, while brandishing switchblades and…

BOY, do these stories involve a LOT of uncles. (For the record, I have SEVEN uncles in total.)

BUT… I can’t tell these stories.

The news is sad and sickening and, in light of all the horror that has been plaguing my feed on Facebook these days, I just CANNOT do it.

I can’t add another DARK post to the feed… so I won’t.

Instead, I’m going to bring up something that’s “good”…  something that’s been a bright spot for me these past “coupla” weeks…


Screen Shot 2016-06-17 at 1.26.03 AM


YUP. So, this is happening…

Going to get into the details in the weeks to come, but, OF COURSE, it’s a ROMANTIC MYSTERY.

Like my other novels, I’m bringing the juice, the smexiness, the laughs and the thrills.

Hoping you guys love this story as much as I am right now…

Blurb and details to come in the next few days for those in the dark.

For now, GOOD NIGHT from NY!

(Up early in the morning so my little vacation to the city won’t turn into a “stay-cation”…)


Round 3 in THREE + Excerpt #2

THREE DAYS until Round 3 is HERE!


If you’re a part of the Natalie Wrye Newsletter (c’moooon, you know you want to), then you’ve seen this Exclusive Excerpt!

If you’re not, then this excerpt is for you.


The grey day has deepened into black, and where the rain fell in a steady shower merely hours ago, it now falls from the heavens in heavy sheets—huge blankets of water that smother the very air in my lungs.

No longer in my suit, I saunter out of my building in soaked black gym wear, the thick humid air making it difficult to distinguish between my own sweat and the condensation outside.

Exhausted does not even begin to describe how I feel.

I walk to the streets outside, and I am overcome with sudden mental and physical fatigue, the effects of my brain and body workouts both putting the brakes on an internal engine that is clearly overrun.

God, I can’t wait until I go home.

My stomach flutters when I realize that I get to go home to Elena. One thought of her cupcake-scented skin, and suddenly, my cock turns into steel.

Even casually dressed, she is beautiful, a sight to see when sashaying around in my oversized work shirts and sandals.

Like this morning.

Her shoulder-length hair constantly shifts in sexy disarray, and even now, when her eyes are sad, they are clear, blue pools of emotion, just as sheer and fucking breathtaking as the day that I met her.

And when she comes…

God, when she comes…

Those blue eyes come completely alive, and all the fire that usually resides in that hot-tempered mouth of hers shoots straight to her irises.

Amazing irises. Fucking unreal irises.

On anyone else they would be nothing but oval-shaped balls of cells and nerves, but on her, they are swirly, sky-blue kaleidoscopes.

They shift from hot to cool; flame to frost, with the flip of a switch… or a touch to her clit

A kiss to her clit… a slow lick to her clit…

Mmmm. My mind continues to wander.

Elena has the type of pussy that begs to be licked—the type of plump, pink lips that almost smile at you, inviting you in… in every way.

I half-smile to myself. As I pass under the covered bridge outside of the building, it turns into a smirk.

I’ve had her pussy in every conceivable way.

And when she’s in my hands, there are so many more ways that I’ve yet to fuck her, so many other ways that I swear I could create.

Because each of these positions is a different knob on her perfect little body, and I have appointed myself the captain at her helm, pushing and pulling the controls to turn her on at my will.

Nothing has ever given me more pleasure.

And it is the very thought of that pleasure—and the realization that I may not have it anymore—that distracts me as I hike across the walkway towards my car.

In the throngs of a full-blown fantasy about Elena’s orgasms, I don’t even open an umbrella, choosing to brave the downpour on the short tour to where I parked.

Even at a normally busy lunch hour, the street is empty, and the few sounds that drift across the cement are not enough to distract me from my vivid daydream.

But the darkly clad man on that empty street is.


Step by Step, Hour by Hour and Minute by Minute (Pre-order) are all FREE on Kindle Unlimited and $0.99, otherwise!

Minute by Minute (Round 3) EXCERPT

Can’t BELIEVE the trilogy is complete and the FINAL ROUND of the Games & Diversions series is almost here, GUYSSSS!




(Can ya tell I’m excited here??).


Minute by Minute Title


Round 3 Exclusive Excerpt

Step by StepHour by Hour and the PRE-ORDER for Minute by Minute are 99 CENTS until RELEASE DAY:

April 20th!

Pre-Order for Minute by Minute

My eyelids are reaching for the floor, and whatever will I had that drove me to the Tripping Out! office and back is definitely done.
I haven’t slept well in days.
I’ve been floating through the motions, operating somewhere between asleep and awake so much so that I have to clutch my old oak desk to ground myself—trying to regain some semblance of sense, composure—grasping for anything tangible.
Anything that will pull me from this purgatory.
It’s all just so damn confusing.
Dreams. Reality.
The line between them is constantly blurred. My nightmares have taken shape within my waking world, and the worst things I could have imagined have actually come true.
The roles are switched—because my reality is a living nightmare, and my dreams have shifted into pure fantasy.
Half-asleep at my desk, I have a vision of Elena walking in.
Her tread is timid, her delicate feet bare. She rounds the corner into my line of sight, looking heaven-sent, and then she pauses—a white button down hanging loosely on her shoulders, providing a palm-wide peek of skin from neck to hip.
The platinum waves of her hair are casually tossed back, and they emphasize the gold flecks in her eyes—flecks that seem to shimmer under the muted light of my amber desk lamp.
She stands at the threshold of the office, watching… waiting for me to notice her.
And I do—I can’t help but take her in with my eyes.
The heels of her feet tap slowly against the wooden flooring of the office as she moves towards me.
I inhale sharply when she sits abruptly in my lap, my body responding immediately upon impact.
My aching cock grows hard and strong between her legs, and my hands start to itch, dying to touch every part of her scented skin.
In my lap, Elena is not innocently cuddled up; she is straddling me… and the satin and lace of her panties plants itself firmly between my thighs, while each of her bare legs dangles seductively where the arm rests would normally be.
Even fully clothed, I am rock solid, and Elena takes advantage of it, rubbing the top of her slit across my steel-colored slacks, lowering her pussy lips so that they sit on the length of me while the lips on her face lick the skin at my jaw.
I groan, my fingertips trailing along the edge of Elena’s overexposed cleavage.
She unbuttons my collar and shirtfront, biting my chest until her lips press against my abdomen.
Through heavily hooded eyes, I watch her sexy little ass slowly slide backwards onto my knees, her tongue creating a wet trail as she continues to go lower.
And lower.
And lower…
Just when the torture is too sweet, just when I don’t think I can take anymore… the doorbell rings and makes her disappear; it makes me shove the image of her back into the damning oblivion from which she emerged.
In my office chair, I scramble for composure, mentally and physically gathering myself together, tucking in a hard-on that was the result of the realistic fantasy.
I check my watch.
Two o’clock in the morning? Who the fuck could be at my door?
I leap from my office chair, the hard soles of my polished shoes echoing loudly over the hardwood floor.
The wind and rain are still beating outside by the time I make it to the front door, and when I do, I lean into the peephole, tightening a fist at the thought of what I may see beyond it.
I balk.
I open the door… and there she is.
The woman of my explicit wet dreams, looking very explicit—and very wet—on my front step in the pouring rain.
The umbrella she carries isn’t large enough to cover a toddler let alone a curvaceously sculpted woman like her.
Her hair is plastered to her forehead and neck in waves of gold, and the grey shirt she wears is stuck to her like a second skin, its bottom edge practically bleeding into the drenched denim at her hip.
She holds her large black purse in her hand, chockfull of clothes she snatched just this morning from the suitcases left abandoned at my house earlier.
She’s soaked from every angle, and just a minute ago, I was thinking of a few places I’d have no trouble soaking even further.
She bites her lips, nearly shivering from the chilled spring rain.
“Can I come in?” she asks softly… and I shift on my feet.
Goddammit, the universe is an ironically funny son-of-a-bitch.
I step to the side of the door, not saying a word.
The bulge in my pants twitches as Elena pushes past me. She floats further into the depths of my darkened house and into the den.
My traitorous cock has undermined me once again—the bastard
And I couldn’t say no if I goddamn tried.


Buy Step by Step for $0.99

Buy Hour by Hour for $0.99

Hour by Hour is LIVE!


★ Amazon US:

★ Amazon CA:

★ Amazon UK:

★ Amazon AU:

Round 2 of the Games & Diversions series will draw you deeper–not just into Griff and Elena’s story but into a mystery and vendetta that threatens to destroy everything they both love.

Hour by Hour (Round 2) : ENTIRE Chapter 4

Hour by Hour

(Round 2 of the Games & Diversions series)

HbH teaser #3

Round 2: Hour by Hour Goodreads page

HOUR BY HOUR COVER REVEAL EVENT on Wednesday, November 18


Beating the Clock

The worst enemy of the strategist is the clock. –   Garry Kasparov



“Lukas!” I call out. My voice stops him in his tracks.

He tears his way out of Foxx’s office when the conversation stops, but as soon as he hits the hallway, I’m on his heels.

His muscular back is tense beneath his black sweater. I settle behind him and he waits…

The rest of the people in the room begin to file out behind us.

Chris breezes by us without looking. Foxx glares over. Ana winks.

Lukas and I wait until everyone passes before saying anything else to each other.

Their scrutiny makes me self-conscious. I keep my voice low even though everyone is gone.

“Lukas,” I whisper. “What the hell is going on?”

“You know… you can call me Griff the way everyone else does.” He doesn’t turn. “What do you mean?”

I shift impatiently on my feet. “Come on… don’t play dumb with me. By the performance that I just saw in there, it’s very clear that you’re not.”

“And it wasn’t clear before?”

I don’t answer. It wasn’t clear before. In fact, it suited me to think that maybe he was. It made him easier to walk away from…

“I saw the look in your eyes in that office. You know more than you’re letting on. I don’t know why it wasn’t obvious to everyone else, but it certainly was to me.”

“I was concerned about the hack. Just like everybody else was.”

“You’re not like everyone else.”

He shifts his weight and I watch the muscles at his shoulders nearly bristle. He’s like a cat… no, like a lion or tiger—fraught with tension, on the cusp of striking out.

I swallow thickly.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Elena,” he says. “I belong in the same category as everyone else. I’m just a regular worker bee trying to protect the hive—like Chris or Foxx.”

I scoff on a laugh. “Regular is not a word that I’d use to describe you.”

He hesitates. “How would you describe me?”

Intense. Complex. Extraordinary. I sigh. “I don’t know. Just… different.”

“Why don’t we talk another time?” He starts to walk away.

“Why don’t you just be honest?” I yell at his back.

He turns towards me. “Honest?”

Yes! I’d like some honesty. You familiar with the word?”

His eyes darken menacingly, flashing an olive green and then returning to normal.

The party lights only add to his threatening nature. He’s more foreboding in the light than he was in the absolute dark.

He pulls up his sleeves.

“Ok, you want honesty?”

I pull my back straight, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I do.”

He steps closer, nearly bringing us chest-to-chest.

He’s so close that I can feel the heat of him through the sweater he wears.

But I won’t back down. I don’t move an inch… though I have to squeeze my hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

He leans into me, his voice rumbling low.

“Alright,” he says. “Honestly?

I don’t want to talk to you.

“I’m trying to leave you alone… like you asked me to. I’m trying not to talk to you. I’m trying not to touch you.

“Because if you keep standing there in that ‘come fuck me’ skirt, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

He closes his eyes briefly, as if to rein in his control. He opens them again, and they are brightly blazing.

“So, be a good girl, Elena,” he nearly snarls, “and run along.”

His words send a tremor through me, a tingle that starts between my thighs and tumbles down towards my toes.

His voice has a velvety rasp—like sandpaper under silk. It’s deep, yet grating. As if the need inside him is strangling each word.

His eyes flicker to my bare legs, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware of them—suddenly cognizant of the smooth, shaved skin below my skirt that seemed so innocent just a minute ago.

I now see them as Lukas must see them.

As dangerous. 

As silky and naked temptations that were wrapped firmly around his head just a few short weeks ago.

Fuck, I should’ve worn pants.

I should walk away. He’s given me an opening to turn on my heel and head in the opposite direction.

To remove myself from this situation before it escalates.

But I still don’t have my answers. We’re getting too far off topic, and all of a sudden, I can’t remember what my initial question even was.

He’s distracting me from the matter at hand, and it’s pissing me off. I stand my ground, defying him.

“I’ve got news for you,” I condescend. “I’ve never been a good girl.”

His dark brows lower, turning his bright eyes into slits. I feel a bead of sweat run down my neck as a lock of Lukas’s dark hair falls forward.

I’m provoking him—I know it. But my curiosity won’t let me stop.

What will he do? How will he react?

Right now, he is a caged animal, prickling in its confines, and I’m an inquisitive child, rattling the bars, poking between the open spaces.

Will he bite?

God help me, I sure as hell want him to.

But the bite doesn’t come. Instead, Lukas pushes his body into mine, causing me to walk backwards.

He backs me into Foxx’s office once again. But the light from the office laptop is not nearly enough to illuminate the way.

I reach my hands blindly behind me and my fingers find Foxx’s office desk. I grip its edge.

I am fucking terrified… and exhilarated all at once.

“Last chance, Elena,” he warns ominously. “Walk away.”

There it is again. That thunder.

Each time he speaks, it is like a quiet drumroll in the distance, a foreboding raincloud from the sky sending shivers across my shoulders.

A silent threat hangs on his every word, and though, I can’t yet see the threat, I hear it in his tone—I feel it.

I prepare myself for the rain.

“Why?” I manage to breathe out.

“Because, Elena… if there was anything pure about you… if there’s even a shred of good that you want to keep, then you should go.

“Because, if given the chance, I will fuck every last inch of innocence out of you. Do you understand?”

He leans in, speaking the words near my brow. His lips peel back and I can feel him bare his teeth against my skin. My eyes drift to a close.

Here it comes, I think to myself.

The lightning. The bite…

Lukas twists to the side, reaching over to close the door and lock it. My fingernails dig into the desk’s wood.

The blue-grey glow from the laptop emphasizes the intensity in his eyes, and he grabs my hips, shifting me to a sitting position on the desk.

He places his hands on either side of me, staring me down.

“By now, you should know… that it’s too late to turn back, Elena, so I want you to listen to me—and listen to me good.

“I’m going to fuck you now with my tongue.

“Not because I want to, but because I have to. I have to taste you again.

“I have to see if your pussy was as soft as I remember, if it’s as mouthwatering as I daydreamed.

“It can’t be as perfect as my memory says it is. I won’t believe it…”

He snorts on a laugh, but the sound is bitter instead of amused.

“Look, let’s be honest with ourselves, right? Do I piss you off? Aggravate you? Make you want to choke the fucking life out of me?

“Tell me that you want to punch me as much as you want to fuck me. Let’s go back to this ‘honesty thing,’” he spouts with a frustratingly sexy, wry smile.

“Admit it, Elena. You don’t want me in your head anymore than I want you in mine.

“So, let’s just satisfy our curiosity—get the bullshit out of the way and go back to living our normal, regular, fucked-up lives.”

His face is only inches from mine, and I stare at his gorgeous features—speechless.

I wanted honesty. I got it—like a slap to the face.

I want to return the favor… but he already knows how I feel.

Besides… how do you tell a man that you’ve had the best sex of your life with that you want him to lick your pussy… and then you want to smother him with it?

You don’t.

You just let him do what he does best. And then you pray to God that it will cure you of this wayward yearning you seem to have for him.

At my silence, Lukas starts to move.

He places his large hand on the plane of my stomach, laying me flat against the desktop. He flips my pleated, blush skirt upwards and kisses me gently between my thighs.

His hands are rough, but his mouth is indescribably soft. He pulls my panties angrily to the side as his mouth descends on my pussy.

I give a small cry at the cold touch of his tongue, but when it starts to move, it grows warm… then hot, until the slow strokes of his tongue blaze lines of fire across my sweltering folds.

His tongue is wet—insistent. It teases figure eights across my clit as he French-kisses the length of me.

God, how could I have gone so long without this?

He places my legs on each of his shoulders, digging his fingertips above my knees. Up. Down. Higher. Higher.

He takes me to the top of ecstasy… and then beyond it.

I moan loudly, bucking my hips off the edge of the desk.

Lukas lifts his head, murmuring melodically against my clit.

“You are sweeter than I remembered, Elena. Fucking delicious.”

The words make me lose control.

When he penetrates me with his tongue, I come, my orgasm jerking my body like lightning bolts from my head to my toes.

In the midst of spasms, I knock over papers—office supplies. If the laptop weren’t on the other side, it’d be obliterated, too.

And all the while, Lukas never stops kissing; he never stops licking. I climax for what feels like forever.

When my body finally settles, I inhale, long and slow, taking deep breaths, trying to gather what is left of my scrambled brain.

Lukas stands, looking over me as I lay there. His gaze is penetrating. His stance is severe.

His fingers hover above his waistband… and then start to move. I hear the click and jingle of his belt buckle before I see it—before my eyes can adjust to the virtual black that soaks the air.

His eyes are on me—questioning me; I feel them. I answer his probing with my silence.

Yes, Lukas, you can fuck me. You can do whatever you want to do to me.

I lay my head back on the desk. I close my eyes, preparing to feel him.

To feel Lukas.

Hard. Long. Ready.

I am so ready. I was ready before he ever touched me.

I spread my legs a little wider… and a knock sounds at the door.

“Hello?” There’s a small pause. “Is anyone in here? The door’s locked.”

Shit! It’s Ana.

I immediately jerk upright, adjusting my clothes to pretend levels of modesty.

Lukas steps away from me, fastening his belt, and we struggle for composure.

I’m too scared to speak—too afraid that my voice will betray what I’ve just done.

Lukas turns toward the door. “Just a sec,” he calls out. “I’m going through some important files.”

Lukas?” I hear Ana say. “Oh… that’s no problem. Take your time.”

Her voice is hushed and flirty, her tone taking on a completely different tenor when she hears that it’s Lukas. Like me, she can’t help herself.

There’s something about Lukas that makes you want to please him. I should know. I feel it every time he fixes his eyes on me.

When my skirt and hair are smoothed back down, Lukas looks at me. He waits for my nod before opening the door.

My breathing stops.

“Hey, Ana,” he says to her.

“Hi,” she smiles widely at him—before noticing me. “Elle?”

I cough sharply. “Hey, Ana.” I go for a lighthearted pitch; it comes out as a squeak.

Lukas looks from Ana to me. “Elena and I were just going over some last minute files. She noticed something… strange, and we decided to look into it.”

Ana’s eyes flit between Lukas and me. “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, sure, everything’s fine. We figured some things out.

He gives me a pointed look that I hope Ana doesn’t catch. She shrugs her shoulders.

“Well, that’s good,” she says casually. “I just came back because I left my phone.”

She peeks her hazel eyes over my shoulder, and I pivot towards the desk, scanning its surface with my eyes and hands.

Ana steps closer. “Oh! Here it is…” She bends down. “On the floor…” She flips it over, checking for cracks.

“That’s funny…” she states absently. “I thought I left it on the desk.”

I nearly swallow my tongue.

“Well, at least it’s not broken.” She slips the phone into her purse, strutting calmly to the door.

“By the way, Elle…” She keeps her fingers on the doorknob. “You’ve got a Post-It note stuck to your ass.”

She tilts her head mockingly before shutting the door on us.

Why I Write

It’s 2:40AM EST on the dot here in Atlanta, GA.

Just got off the phone with the #boytoy (my boyfriend). [He’d kill me if he knew I called him that.]

And I’m sleepy, but I can’t quite lay down.

Today, one of my close friends asked me, “What ever happened to that story you were thinking about publishing?”

A story I finished one year ago.

A story that I randomly uploaded to Amazon on Thanksgiving Day 2014.

A story that no one but my mother even knew that I was self-publishing.

I lied. I told her that the story hadn’t gone anywhere–that I hadn’t decided to do anything with it.

And part of me felt bad. Bad for lying, in general. Bad for committing a sin while God watched.

But a big part of me didn’t.

This friend hadn’t exactly been supportive when I talked about my dreams. She hadn’t been particularly warm or welcoming when I expressed a desire to share stories after having suppressed the feeling for so long throughout college and grad school.

You know why it didn’t feel SO bad?

Because my stories aren’t for her. They’re for you…or you…or you. They’re for the READERS.

I write Romantic Mysteries.

 I write “Guess-Who” games for people that want to jump into a world where life is shadowy, lies are deep, and secrets are earth-shattering.

I write love stories where unlikely couples can make magic happen.

I don’t want to write tales; I want to write journeys–

trips that send you on a roller coaster.

I want your stomach to drop. I want your seat to shake. I want you to take momentary flight.

THAT is why I write.

And I’m not going to feel badly anymore about not sharing my dreams. I’m not going to feel guilty for not letting someone in on the “secret.”

The FANTASTIC book-lovers and people with which I’ve built relationships and had fun and laughed and sometimes even CRIED are more of a support system than I could have EVER asked for.

I APPRECIATE every single person that has read anything I’ve written–whether they’ve loved it, hated it or felt MEH.

If someone wants to join the ride, all they have to do is raise their hand. I’m always driving around, looking for passengers.

You’ll know where to find me. 😉

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑