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Social media sorceress by day, short story spinner by night. In her 20s, powered by caffeine and curiosity, she juggles hashtags and plot twists with ease. Writes to pay bills and for fun, obsesses over true crime, and firmly believes commas save lives—especially in confessions.
Introverted to the core, she’d rather deep-dive into the human mind than go out on a Friday night. Rabbit holes? She lives in them.
Ah, autumn. The season of crunching leaves, golden sunsets, and humanity’s ridiculous obsession with
The box had three warnings and I ignored all of them. To be fair, the first was written in a floury scrawl
I bring you tremendous news, dear reader.
Not only shall I soon be a published author — my forthcoming
For the first part of Little Puddlewick Mysteries, click here.
Dawn came grey and thin over Little
I see I have captured your hearts, dear reader. All this fan mail, all this praise, all this demand for
The Golden Lion pub, a building of ancient stone and sagging timbers, stood at the heart of Little Puddlewick.
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