This weekend was a whirlwind — two full days at the 2026 St. George Smuttastic Book Fair, five hours of travel each way, and more conversations than my introvert heart was prepared for. I’m exhausted in the best possible way, and before I collapse into a well‑earned coma, I had to jump online and say thank you.

What the actual #%*¥.L Seriously, UPS? Seriously? Why is everything so hard right now? This past week has felt like a cosmic joke with terrible timing. My shipment of books for an upcoming book fair arrived soaked—UPS left the boxes sitting in a puddle on my porch. Half the inventory? Ruined.

July came in swinging. Two book fairs, rolling out my ARC for Book Four, and creating the book trailer for this deliciously dark installment in the Somewhere Aching universe. I’m running on caffeine, stubbornness and the faint hope that autumn will save me.

I have a confession. Some days, the state of the world feels so bleak that I catch myself wishing something dramatic would shake society awake. Something that would force us to confront the widening gulf between the haves and the have-nots. The United States is one of the wealthiest nations on the planet, yet millions of people struggle just to survive. It’s heartbreaking, and yes, it makes me angry.

I spent the Fourth of July weekend at my mountain property, soaking in the quiet. We visited the Little Grand Canyon—Utah’s spectacular hidden gem—and I wasted hours lolling around, staring at the sky. It was supposed to be a decompression weekend. Did I decompress? Not really. Because I knew what waited for me when I got home: The final edit of Book Four.