The Glass Inkwell

Miles Stone agreed to write this under the condition that it not become a "content piece." He was told no promises. He wrote it anyway.

A quiet word about what comes next — and why I can't stop thinking about it

We are officially one week out from the launch of Saltwater Between Us, and the nervous-excited butterflies have officially taken up residence in our chest.

There's a new mystery coming to Blackvale.

On rereading a beloved series, craft study done right, and why you don't actually want to write like your favorite author

On emotional promises and why I take them seriously Every book makes a promise. Not always out loud. Not always in the blurb. But somewhere in the first chapter, in the tone, in the way the author leans into the story—there's a handshake. An unspoken agreement between writer and reader. Here's what I'm offering you. Here's what this experience is going to feel like. I take that seriously. Maybe a little obsessively. (My notes document has an entire section called "The Feeling

Cressida Vale has opinions. She has been given the blog. This was either a brilliant idea or a catastrophic one — possibly both.

The alpha hero has a reputation problem. And honestly, some of it is earned. For too long, dominance in romance fiction has been shorthand for control—a man who decides what a woman wants, overrides her choices, and calls it love. We've dressed it up in penthouse suites and expensive suits and called it fantasy. And sometimes, readers accepted it as such, because the emotional core beneath all that control whispered something they needed to hear: I see you. You matter. I won'

On balancing two full-time lives without completely dissolving into the couch Here is something nobody puts in the "how to be an indie author" guides, probably because it doesn't photograph well: At 8:47 AM on a Tuesday, you will be in a meeting about something that has nothing to do with your characters or your chapter or the plot hole you finally figured out at 11 PM the night before. The meeting will run long. There will be a follow-up email. You will have approximately

There's a thing I say when people look at my watchlist and squint. You'll write an entire fantasy novel with blood and betrayal and ancient monsters who eat grief for breakfast, but you won't watch Law & Order? And the answer is: correct. Absolutely not. Not even the reruns. I've thought about this more than I probably should have (it was a Tuesday, I had coffee, I was procrastinating on a chapter—you know how it goes). And what I landed on is this: it's not about the darknes

There is a specific kind of magic that happens when you stop doing what you’re supposed  to do and start doing what your soul actually demands. For my newest heroine, Cerys Duncan, that meant trading a predictable life for a solo sailing adventure. For me? It meant writing a story that felt like a warm hug, a stiff breeze, and a very necessary reminder that love shouldn't require us to shrink. I am so thrilled to finally announce that Saltwater Between Us  is officially avail

I want to tell you something about Cerys Duncan before you meet her. She's not a woman in crisis. She's not broken, exactly—just... compressed. Like someone who's spent years fitting herself into spaces that were never quite the right shape, who learned early that being agreeable was safer than being herself , and who got so good at performing "practical" that she forgot practical and afraid  aren't the same thing. She's also kind of remarkable. Quietly, stubbornly, wonderful

On editing Vale & Stone Book 2 and what waits in the shadows of a town I thought I knew There's a version of Blackvale that most people never see. Not because it's hidden, exactly. More because it requires a certain willingness — to stay past closing time, to take the long way home, to linger in the kind of light that turns ordinary storefronts into something else entirely. Something older. Something that breathes. I've been deep in the editing trenches of Vale & Stone Book 2

There's a specific kind of magic that happens when two characters meet for the first time. Not just any  meeting. Not the "oh, you work in accounting too?" kind. I'm talking about the kind of first encounter that makes you stop mid-bite of your sandwich, forget you have tea steeping, and accidentally stay up until 2 a.m. because you have  to know what happens next. The kind that crackles. I've been thinking about this a lot lately—what makes a first encounter in romance truly

There are stories you write. And then there are stories you bury. Paradise Island was the second kind. If you've been following along, you probably noticed I recently renamed Paradise Island  to Saltwater Between Us . That wasn't just a branding tweak. That was a reclamation. A quiet, salt-stung, sun-warmed reclaiming of something I almost convinced myself wasn't worth keeping. Let's rewind a little. I started my very first story in high school because a friend casually me

There is a folder on my computer that should never, under any circumstances, gain sentience. It is labeled something harmless. Something professional. Something that suggests order and intention. Inside it lives half-finished chapters, alternate openings, emotionally unwell scenes written at 2:14 a.m., and at least three documents named some variation of final_final_ACTUALLY_final . If my characters could see this folder, I would never hear the end of it. So today, in the spi

There is a particular kind of joy that only exists inside curated worlds. Not the fragile joy of productivity. Not the earned joy that comes after suffering. I mean the loud, unapologetic joy of walking into a place designed entirely for wonder and saying, Yes. I will have some of that. Universal Studios was my birthday gift to myself. A day of color and noise and spectacle after days steeped in stone, history, and ghosts. Ancient forts and quiet museums had given me weight.

I’ve been sitting on this post for a while now. Not because I didn’t know what to say—but because sometimes the space between  books deserves a moment to breathe. To let the echoes settle. To allow the ghosts (literal or otherwise) to stop rearranging the furniture. But since you’re here, and since you’re asking… Let’s talk about what comes next for Vale & Stone. First Things First: Yes, Book 2 Is Coming Let’s get this out of the way up front so you don’t have to squint suspi

Ghost tours are a funny thing. Everyone pretends they’re there ironically. For the history. For the vibes. For the camp. We insist we’re not scared even as we cluster closer together, listening a little too carefully, glancing over our shoulders when the guide’s voice drops. I went on mine at night, when St. Augustine feels like it’s holding its breath. Cobblestones slick with age and humidity. Streetlamps casting that specific kind of light that turns every shadow into a pos

I went into the Shipwreck Museum with expectations. That was my first mistake. I imagined salt-stained stories. Quiet reverence. The slow, heavy gravity of loss. Shipwrecks, after all, are about disaster. About the sea taking more than it gives back. What I found instead was spectacle. Dim lighting. Theatrical narration. History packaged neatly with a gift-shop cadence. The tragedy was still there, technically, but it had been softened. Streamlined. Made palatable. Disaster,