Hey there happy reader,

I am so grateful that I took a leap of faith and attended Joyce Maynard’s Writer’s Intensive Workshop. I could never have imagined how impactful that experience would turn out to be… I met a group of fellow writers who I now consider dear friends and learned so much at the feet of the master teacher, Joyce herself!

It’s not easy to get to Lake Atitlan in Guatemala. 

I took two planes, a pretty scary van ride on the Pan American Highway, and a small boat to finally arrive at Casa Paloma – the real “Bird Hotel.” But once there, I was swept away from the beauty of the place and the magnetic pull of the volcanoes that sit right across the way.

Joyce has created a truly special place (more on that in a later newsletter).

It was remarkable that she was able to bring ten writers together who would form such a tight, cohesive bond. We were a supportive group from our first meeting!

These were women from all over the United States and Canada; a journalist, a naval commander, two watercolor artists, a minister, a former porn star, a college administrator, a political refugee, a filmmaker, a new widow, and me! All had stories to tell and we shared those stories long into the night!

These are all brave women, and I admire each of them. 

Some have overcome sexual trauma, some are learning how to navigate life alone after the death of a loved one, others have experienced a “grey” divorce after long marriages, and all are talented writers.

I feel such gratitude that each one told her truth in our group sessions, and such joy at their successful efforts to put their thoughts down on paper.

And then there’s Joyce. She’s a force of nature! 

Joyce is a master teacher and can see right to the core of your work, tweak it a bit and make it stronger, all with the stroke of her sharpie! It was amazing to watch her work at the white board and I learned a tremendous amount from her.

Plus, we got to hear about her new novel. She’s in the revision stage now, but when it becomes available, I will absolutely read it. It’s full of intrigue and deception, two topics which will make it unputdownable…

I will have more to share with you on this experience in the coming weeks, but for now, I’m going back to my work-in-progress. I promise updates on my new novel soon.

Hey there happy reader!

I am putting the last few items in my suitcase and am heading out early tomorrow morning for Guatemala. I know I’ve been talking about this trip for months now, but it’s finally here and I’m excited!

I promise lots of pictures in the next newsletter, but for now, just know that I’ll be working on “The Stones” in every individual writing session and critique hour available to me at Joyce Maynard’s Writer’s Intensive Workshop. 

I can only hope that the time spent there helps me strengthen my work in the best sort of way…

For now, I’m going to leave you with the next part of “The Stones.” 

If you recall, there are two female protagonists, Maya – who lives at Stonehenge at the time of its construction, and Miriam – a PhD student researching her dissertation topic in present day.

Miriam’s trying to prove that it was a matriarchal society on Salisbury Plains and that these women leaders have been forgotten through time. She travels to Oxford to try and find more proof of her theory. Maya is facing challenges of her own as some of the men are about to make a “power grab” and threaten the life her people have always known.

The book flips back and forth between the present and the past. This novel is part historical, part suspense, and a bit of magical realism thrown in for good luck. 

Here’s a little piece of it…

Oxford University
September 2025

Jet-lagged and ravenously hungry, Miriam struggled to find the College Dining Hall on campus. It was already lunch time, and she’d slept past breakfast, even though she didn’t mean to – she made the mistake after arriving from Heathrow of just “resting” on her bed for a moment, and the next thing she knew, the sun was high in the sky.

Miriam pulled her scarf out of her bag and draped it around her neck as she walked across the common, its lush green lawn not yet faded despite the sharp autumn wind that swept across the open space, signaling the abrupt change of season. She couldn’t help but admire the beautiful architecture of the old stone buildings that surrounded the pathway. Oxford was historic – these stones certainly were not as old as the ones she had come here to study, but they had the patina of age, nonetheless. She knew that there were formal dining halls here, she’d read about them in the literature the university had sent her in her welcome packet. One of these halls was apparently the inspiration for JK Rowling’s “Harry Potter” series. No matter. She was headed to The Buttery for a simple lunch. She could find Hogwarts later.

Miriam made her way to the building that housed the canteen style cafeteria and once there, surveyed the offerings, deciding on a toasted cheese sandwich with chips because it felt like the ultimate comfort food. If they’d offered tomato soup, she would have picked up a bowl of that as well, but they didn’t, so instead she decided to be somewhat British and filled up a mug with hot English Breakfast tea. She pushed her tray toward the cashier and did a quick conversion of dollars to pounds in her head; food cost pretty much the same at Oxford as it did in New York. I guess I’ll continue to be a struggling student here as well, she thought. She paid for her lunch and turned to the large space to find a seat. It was crowded, filled almost to capacity. She snaked her way between groups of animated students, clearly pleased to have been reunited with their peers after the summer holidays until she found a single unoccupied chair at a table in one corner. She looked at the man sitting across from the open spot and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

When he looked up from his book, she was struck by the gold flecks in his green eyes.

“No,” he said. “By all means, please, sit.”

“Thanks,” she murmured as she slid into the chair as gracefully as she could while still holding onto the tray. She set it down with a clatter of silverware, her tea sloshing over the side of the mug.

“It’s tight in here today,” the man said. “It seems like all have returned for another year of study at once. It’s not usually this bad, is it?”

His proper British accent sounded musical to her American ear. “I wouldn’t know,” she replied. “It’s my first time here at Oxford.”

“Is it? How wonderful,” he said a broad smile highlighting his features and with what seemed like true enthusiasm. “What will you study while you’re here?”

“History, I guess you’d say,” Miriam told him. “But I’ll be offering a seminar as well. What about you?”

“History, you guess?” he asked with a smirk. “Is that what you’ll be teaching? Are you sure?”

She picked up one half of her sandwich and stared at him for a moment. He’s teasing me, right? she questioned, realizing in the moment that it had been a long time since anyone had done that. Or is he flirting with me? It had been even longer since she’d experienced that sort of behavior from a man. She shook her head and smiled. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m working on my dissertation. I’m here for one semester. From New York.”

He grinned broadly. “I could have guessed that, given the chance. You look like a New Yorker.”

“What?” she asked, shocked that he’d pegged her so quickly. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Your clothing. It’s all black,” he answered. “I find most women from Manhattan tend to dress monochromatically.”

It was Miriam’s turn to smile. “Okay, you’ve got me there. I do wear a lot of black. But sometimes I wear grey.”

“Why is it that you New Yorkers do that, anyway? I’ve always wondered,” he said with sincerity.

“It’s just a whole lot easier than trying to color coordinate your outfit when you’ve got more important things to do, I guess.”

“And history. That’s more important, I would guess?” He paused, then added, “I’m Spencer, by the way.” He offered his hand for her to shake. “But my friends call me Spence.”

Miriam rested her sandwich back on her plate, quickly wiped her hand with a paper napkin, then reached across the table and slipped her hand into his. When he tightened his grip a bit in greeting, she felt the strength of his fingers as they wrapped around her palm. She liked the feel of the warmth that transferred from his hand to her own.

“I’m Miriam. And what shall I call you, Spencer or Spence?” she asked.

“Well, now that we’ve met, I hope we can be friends as well.”

“Spence it is, then,” she responded. She reached for a chip and popped it into her mouth. The salt was sharp on her tongue. “What are you studying?”

“Not studying. Finished that years ago. I teach Economics.”

“Oh,” Miriam said, suddenly feeling foolish. He was dressed casually, in a short-sleeved, powder blue polo shirt and khaki shorts. She never would have guessed that he was faculty – he looked too young and good looking in a way that reflected a practiced ease.

“Are you surprised to find that I’m a professor, not a student?” he asked her.

She tried to cover her reaction by mopping up the spilled tea with the same paper napkin she’d just used on her hand. “Um, no, no. I mean, you don’t have to be some old stodgy person to teach here, right? I’m probably close to your age, so no matter.”

“That depends, Miriam.” Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. “How old are you, exactly?”

She could feel herself blush. “Old enough to know that you shouldn’t be asking me that question. It could be construed as harassment.”

“No, not really. I just wanted to be sure that you were old enough to visit my favorite pub with me tonight. If you’re not from here, you probably don’t know where to get a proper G and T.”

“A what? What’s a G and T?”

“A gin and tonic. You know… Hendricks, a lime, a splash of tonic…or don’t you drink in Manhattan as you wear all black or sometimes grey?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“I drink on occasion, but not tonight. I just arrived here this morning, and I probably will fall asleep before you even leave to go to your pub. And I need to prepare for my first class tomorrow.”

“Well then. Hand over your mobile. I’ll put my number into your contacts and when you do feel like a drink, you can call me.”

She gazed at him, stunned for the moment at his brazen approach, but then unlocked her screen and handed her phone to him anyway. After all, he didn’t take her number, but instead, gave her his. This certainly was not New York City, and in the moment, Miriam was glad that she made the decision to cross the ocean, if only for the semester. She watched as he quickly added his number to her list of contacts. Then he stood.

“I’ve got to get on, I have a department meeting in ten minutes,” he said as he stood. “But it was nice to meet you, Miriam. I do hope you’ll ring me for that drink.” When he smiled at her she noticed that his two bottom teeth were just a bit crooked, which seemed to lend to his charm.

“It was nice to meet you, too. I’ll keep your offer in mind,” she said with a smile, not wanting to tell him that she never drank alcohol because it often triggered a migraine. No need to put him off, she thought to herself. It might be a good idea to get out every now and then, if I can make the time. She watched him walk out of the canteen and then turned her attention to her sandwich, now cold and not as appealing as it was when she purchased it. Make the time, she reflected on the concept of having a spare minute to socialize. Who are you kidding? It will never happen…

But then again, she mused, I’ve never met anyone named Spence before, either.

There will be more when I’m back…

I hope you’re enjoying the longer days and warmer weather. Time for a walk around the block to look for some spring daffodils, peeking up at you on your way. Take a minute to smell the flowers… it will change your whole day!

Hey there happy reader!

I have been gobsmacked at the reception I’ve received for my romantic suspense novel, “Question Everything.”

Next to my historical novel, “The Wick and the Flame,” it’s my most widely read book. I’ve just released it in England and Australia, and I’m curious to see if it does as well there. As you may know, the plot (NO SPOILERS) involves a certain member of the royal family. I can’t wait to hear the response from those who live in the shadow of Buckingham Palace!

It’s always exciting to publish a book in another country. 

I’m starting to think about having some of my titles translated into French, German, Spanish, and even Hebrew, just to have a chance at reaching a global audience. Plus, with each copy sold, I have a bit more to donate to the Alzheimer’s Association.

If you haven’t read “Question Everything” yet, you can find it on Amazon. And if you do read it and have a moment to leave me a review, just know how much I appreciate your goodwill!

When I wrote “Question Everything,” it was a nod to my favorite romance novel trope. 

I love a book with a mystery, and combined with a spicy love story, it’s my first choice when looking for a new book to read. What about you? Do you like a romantic suspense, or do you prefer a historical romance? Do you like a big city background, or is small-town love your thing?

If you do enjoy small-town romance, you’re in luck. The queen of the genre, Lucy Score, has a new series out right now!

For those of you unfamiliar with Lucy’s work, she’s the author of the “Knockemout” books, beginning with “Things We Never Got Over.” I love this author. Not only does she write engaging novels about people you’d like to meet, but she’s also a genuinely nice person. She helped me out at the beginning of my career, guaranteeing her a fan for life. I can’t wait to get my Kindle fired up on the long plane ride to Guatemala (next week!) and dive into this small-town romance.

And speaking of my trip to Joyce Maynard’s Writer’s Intensive Workshop, I’m counting down the days in single digits now. 

I’ve been busy writing as much as possible in advance so that I have plenty of words to share with the other authors in attendance. We will be given time each day to work in what looks like the most spectacular setting I’ve ever seen. Then each evening we will come together to read what we’ve written. It’s one part inspiring, one part intimidating, and just the challenge I truly need. I promise lots of pictures and shared stories once I return home.

Hey there happy reader, 

The day is almost here… I’m leaving for Guatemala and Joyce Maynard’s Writer’s Intensive Workshop less than two weeks from today, and I still truly can’t believe it. I’ll be spending seven days working on my new novel, “The Stones” in a magnificent setting… Lake Atitlan in Central America!

I’ll be staying in the hotel that Joyce built during Covid. 

She’s owned property in Guatemala for many years, but during the pandemic she decided to help the local workers by building a larger structure, which kept growing! Now she is the proud proprietor of a beautiful hotel, Casa Paloma, and holds her workshops there.

I must admit that I’m more than a little bit nervous about this trip. 

I’m not an “outdoor” type of person. I much prefer sitting on my couch curled up with a good book or the latest episode of “1923.” When the first information email arrived, I truly questioned my judgement in choosing to go to Guatemala at all. All participants are reminded to shake out their shoes before putting them on to avoid a scorpion bite! What??? Let me tell you this: if I see a scorpion, this NYC girl will probably faint dead away! But, on the other hand, I never back away from a challenge…

There are eight writers, (including myself) attending this workshop. 

We each work independently during the day and have multiple opportunities to have Joyce mentor us along the way. Each night we are to gather and read to each other from the pages that we’ve completed that day. That kind of immediate feedback is invaluable and should help me make “The Stones” a compelling read. The week on the lake will be a wonderful experience – scorpions aside – and I hope to get a lot done without the distractions of my everyday life. There are no pickleball games in Guatemala, lol!!

More seriously, this is an unbelievable opportunity, and I plan to make the most of it! I realize that it’s a tremendous privilege to have been invited and to have the ability to go. I don’t want to waste a minute of it!

Hey there happy reader,

I’m back from a week in sunny Los Angeles, where thankfully, the air quality is back to normal “smog” terrible. The horrible fires in January left behind a large swath of devastation. Entire neighborhoods have been erased, but the rains that followed did wash away much of the smoke and ash. It was wonderful to be outside in the warm sunshine to celebrate our oldest grandson’s second birthday!

Sometimes I just marvel at a toddler’s capacity for imagination, sparked by a few simple toys. 

He was fascinated by this gift of a play set of pots and pans, mimicking the motions he’s seen both his parents use when making breakfast. We spent many happy hours “cooking” eggs and pancakes in his room!

We had so much fun pretending that I was inspired to bake with him, so we made challah together. 

He had such a blast mixing up the flour and eggs, then kneading the dough. Plus, he was thrilled with the result. Bonus? He ate it, which if you know anything about toddlers — they love a food for a day and the next day they refuse to eat it!

If you have a young child who would enjoy baking with you, the picture book “Challah Day” by Charlotte Offsay is a perfect gift. 

It offers beautiful illustrations of a family baking together and then enjoying the fruits of their labor. It has a recipe for challah in the back so you can try it for yourself. It’s a delicious activity, especially when you turn day old challah into French Toast!

Once I returned home, I was happily surprised to find that the weather was warm, and the sun was out. 

I know it’s just nature’s way of teasing me – it will get cold again. But for today, I took a long walk to enjoy the reprieve. Now I’m headed back to my desk and my work-in-progress, “The Stones.” I promise a fuller report on that and my preparation for my trip to Guatemala and Joyce Maynard’s writer’s intensive workshop next time.

Hey there happy reader!

I’ve been a busy author! I’ve spent a ton of time at my desk, working on my new historical novel. For some reason, it took a lot of time for me to get into the groove of this book. Despite that I had basically outlined the entire thing in my mind, getting started took a minute. I was stumped by the lack of a title for the longest time. But I decided that the simple approach was best, so, I’m calling it “The Stones.”

You would think that a book title about an iconic monument would come to mind easily. 

This one didn’t, until I stepped back and stripped it down to the most basic concept — the stone circle itself is a major character in the story and those massive boulders needed to be acknowledged. Sometimes the most obvious thoughts are the ones that don’t surface until you least expect them to!

And…bonus! 

Here’s a very rough excerpt from the opening pages:

Miriam slowly opened one eye and then the other, narrowing them and squinting in the direction of the lone window of her bedroom. A seam of light separated night from day at the horizon. She knew that it was early, but once she was awake, there was never the chance that she’d fall back to sleep. At least last evening she’d been spared the bizarre dreams she’d been experiencing for months, shadowy figures crossing great expanses of open fields, seemingly searching for something she couldn’t place. She slowly turned her cheek against the scratchy pillowcase, waiting to feel that familiar ache at the base of her skull. Thankfully, it wasn’t there today. At least not yet. Her migraines were unpredictable. While she had some warning before one struck, she never understood what caused them in the first place.

She slowly shifted into a sitting position, reminding herself that this single bed in her sparse dorm room didn’t leave much space for movement. She longed for the day when she’d finally have her own apartment, but as a graduate fellow living off a sparse grant, that wouldn’t be anytime soon. She was doing important research and had made some headway toward her dissertation, but she was not yet close to being financially independent. Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever get there. It seemed that all her college roommates were well on their way, their careers firmly established, some of them married and living in elegant doorman buildings with polished marble-floored lobbies, their furniture lavishly purchased at Restoration Hardware and Pottery Barn. Those leather ottomans and linen sectional couches were a faraway dream, or so it seemed to Miriam. She was immersed in an ancient world, a place full of so many more questions than answers that she often felt like Sisyphus, constantly pushing a boulder uphill with no end in sight.

The research she did was never ending. Every time Miriam felt like she was just about to breakthrough and uncover the one missing piece that would snap the puzzle into place, she hit a wall. She had postponed her dissertation argument twice now. Her mentor and chair of the dissertation committee, Dr. Matthias Solomon had told her plainly that without meeting her current deadline date, Miriam would no longer be a PhD candidate at Columbia University. They had given her all the leeway possible, there were no more extensions to be had. The pressure she felt was enormous, and the debilitating headaches she suffered as a byproduct did not help.

Standing now on shaky feet, Miriam thought about the place she was researching — Stonehenge. She had been mesmerized by the ancient structure when she had studied abroad as an undergrad and had based her entire academic career on the theory that the massive monument on Salisbury Plain was engineered by women. What she couldn’t figure out yet, but what she was trying to uncover, was why these women seemed to be erased from the history of the place. She’d been back countless times and was about to head off to England again, this time to Oxford, for a look at some of the documents in their extensive library. She had applied to offer a seminar on her findings to date in exchange for room and board for a semester, and luckily, she had been granted that request. She had to find the key as her final dissertation defense date was set and now was only six months away. The clock was ticking, and Miriam still had more questions than answers…

This novel is told from two points of view. 

Miriam lives in the present day and Maya lives at Stonehenge. Both women share a common bond and even though they don’t know one another, their lives will mesh. It’s one-part magical realism, one-part historical fact and a little bit of suspense all rolled into one fascinating story! I’ll share more of it as time goes on, but for now, I hope I left you wanting more!