Thursday, December 26, 2013


There's no denying, 2013 was a banner year for me. Thank you all for your part in making THE FINAL PIECE the huge success it was, and continues to be! My second novel LILY LOVE (previously titled AN ENIGMA PROJECT) will be released Summer 2014. I can't wait for you to read it. The galleys will be available in February, so I'll be holding a contest for a lucky reader to a copy before it's official release. Stay tuned for more details! In the meantime, I hope I get the chance to meet you in New Orleans, LA this February 1st, at The NOLA Author Event. What does your 2014 look like? I hope it is full of love, laughter and excellent books. xoxo, Maggi

Saturday, July 20, 2013

One Crazy Summer

One crazy summer doesn't quite reflect the vast abundance of crazy, but it will suffice for now.
Back on June 29th, I was most fortunate to be included in the line up at Book Bash in Orlando, Florida.

This is me and my lifelong friend, and assistant, Happy.

It was surreal and wonderful, spending time with my amazing readers. I'm looking forward to the next book event in Las Vegas on August 16-20. That's right, four days of book loving debauchery. Don't laugh! You should always keep your eye on the ones that look sweet. It's all an act. You can see more about the fun we'll be having below.

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In addition to the travel and excitement of promotional touring, Montlake Publishing will be re-launching The Final Piece on August 15! 

Today, in true Beth and Ryan style, I'm going to see one of my favorite bands in concert. Back in the day, Toad the Wet Sprocket was my obsession. I adored their music, still do, and tonight they're playing in downtown Greensboro. YES!!! If you are in the Piedmont Triad area, you should boogie on down. If you haven't had the oracular pleasure, here they are Toad the Wet Sprocket .

"Nothing so loud 
as hearing when we lie 
The truth is not kind. 
An you've said neither am I."
~All I Want~

Monday, June 3, 2013

An Enigma Project

In the last couple of weeks, I've been fielding a lot questions about my current work in progress- An Enigma Project. It's so hard to put into words! I'm really bad with saying too much and giving something away. So, instead of stumbling over a lousy description, I'm posting a teaser here. Without further adieu, here is a scene from An Enigma Project early 2014 through Amazon Publishing.

An Enigma Project Teaser

The cafeteria is relatively quiet this afternoon and I’m grateful to find my favorite booth vacant. It’s in the corner, sheltered from the fluorescent glare of the lights above. I shift across the seat and place my back against the wall. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my cheek against my knee. Just a few minutes of peace, that’s all I want. My mind won’t allow for it, even in the silence, it churns and spits mercilessly.
“Ma’am?” I jump, startled by the man standing at the end of my table. I must look as strung out as I feel, because his face reflects pity.
Screw your pity, buddy.
“You left your coffee,” he raises the latté I just paid for and left at the counter.
“Is it okay if I sit?” he asks, but he’s already moving to sit across from me. He folds his tall, lanky frame into the booth, with care not to bang his knees under the table.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“I won’t ask you if you’re okay,” he chuckles nervously. When he sees that I’m not sharing his humor, he clears his throat, “sorry, I just...I don’t know. Can I just sit here and not talk to you for a minute?”
I take in this strange man warily. His hair is dark brown with a slight curl to it, it’s cropped close to his head, but not short enough to hide the gentle bend of the strands. He runs his hand through it and exhales heavily. I reach for my latté and curse under my breath at my shaking hand. I rest it against

the table and reach with my steady hand. The stranger pretends like he doesn’t notice; at least I don’t have to suffer more of his pity.
“Why?” I don’t know why I care, or why I’m even bothering to engage this man. I should get up and make my way back to MRI clinic. His inquisitive brown eyes lock with mine. Something in way he stares, unapologetically assessing me, reminds me of Matt. Pain blooms anew.
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “does it matter?”
“No,” I sigh. “I guess not. I’m just not accustomed to chatting up strange men in the hospital cafeteria.”
“Is there someplace else you’re more comfortable chatting up strange men?” He laughs, and despite myself, I laugh too.
“Are you here a lot?” he asks cautiously.
“More than I want to be,” I offer. “My daughter is a patient right now.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers and I cringe at the tears welling behind my eyelids.
“Don’t be.” I shrug and look into my coffee.
“Can’t help it,” he throws back. “Can ask what’s wrong with her?”
“You can ask, but I don’t really have an answer.” I look up from my coffee and find him watching me intently, waiting for me to explain.
“She, my daughter, has a developmental disability and a seizure disorder. Neither of which are specified, so we are here for tests. More tests. Endless tests...” I murmur.
“They don’t know what’s wrong?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“Nobody knows, she was born healthy but started to miss a few milestones in her first year. By her second birthday, she was at the developmental level of an nine month old and started to having seizures. After the seizures started, she started to regress. She’s five now. Developmentally she’s a toddler. She doesn’t fit into any one diagnosis. She’s all over the place and no one knows how to help her.” I stammer over the last few words, embarrassed by my candor. He shakes his head, sinking me further into my unease.
“That must be incredibly hard.” He dips his pinky finger in his coffee, swirling it while he speaks.
“It is what it is,” I shrug. I watch him curiously as he lifts his finger to lick the froth from his finger tip.
As if he can hear my thought, he glances up. Blotches of color stain his cheeks and I snicker at his obvious discomfort.
“Sorry, I’m really not a Neanderthal,” he chuckles. “I nearly burned every taste bud off my tongue, earlier. Just testing the temperature. You know.” He stutterers; I bite my top lip to keep from smiling.
“So you’re willing to burn your finger and not your tongue? What did your finger do to you?” I giggle, catching myself by surprise. The cadence of my laughter is almost as unfamiliar as the man sitting across from me. He smiles, transforming his face. Already a handsome stranger, his smile is irresistible. I smile in return.
“I don’t have to taste anything with this,” he waves his pinky at me.
“I guess not,” I clear my throat and sip my own cup. A wave of
self consciousness grips me as silence stretches between us. “What’s your daughter’s name?” he asks.
“Lily,” I whisper. The sadness I’d forgotten for just a moment, cloaks me in darkness once again.
“Lily is a beautiful name,” he offers. The brown of his eyes, reflects the warmth in his tone. Matt has warm, kind eyes, too. That didn’t save me from anything.
“I should really get back to her. She’ll be awake soon,” I blurt out as I scoot out of the booth.
“It was nice talking to you, Lily’s mom.” He offers his hand and I shake it without meeting his eyes. I don’t think I can look at them again without allowing nostalgia to pull me down further. I notice he doesn’t ask for my name. I don’t ask for his either. Besides I’m used to being “Lily’s Mom.” I haven’t been “Caroline” in more years than I can count.


Friday, May 24, 2013

The Final Piece: a book trailer by Janna Mashburn

It never ceases to amaze me, how creative and generous people are with their time. Thank you so much for making this for me, Janna! I absolutely adore it.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

For Bobby.

For Bobby.

Those are the first, and most important words of my book, The Final Piece. Without Bobby, my life would be vastly different. Without him, I would never have known the intrinsic value of unconditional love, or self worth.

He is my hero. Plain and simple.

I wrote the character Tommy to reflect the wonderful man who Bobby was. Immortalizing him ensures that he lives on through me. I miss him every day.

Bobby was a Vietnam War Veteran who battled depression and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder until he took his life in 2004. It was a tragic and senseless loss that many families of war veterans suffer. PTSD robbed me of the most influential person in my life and it was 100 % avoidable. I know because I also suffered from PTSD. The difference between me and Bobby is that I had access to help. No veteran should be denied the mental health benefits they need. Ever.

Veterans for Common Sense is a 501 (c)(3) charitable organization that has championed for veterans’ mental healthcare rights, all the way to the Supreme Court. They’re the people I would’ve wanted in Bobby’s corner, so I’m dedicating 25 % of the sales for The Final Piece from March 22, 2013 thru April 22, 2013. You can also make a contribution directly to  Veterans for Common Sense in honor of Robert James Waldron Jr. You can purchase The Final Piece at here. 

Never a day, B. Not. One. Ever.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Pinch Me!

There are so many things to be grateful for and to share. First and foremost, a huge THANK YOU to Michelle Warren for the new and improved cover design for The Final Piece. Within a week of the cover change, things started to really shift for me. I was invited to participate in a couple of really big book events this summer, in addition to the one I'm attending in Boston in March. So come see me!

The Boston Author Event: March 16th at The Omni Parker House in Boston, MA from 12p.m.- 4p.m.
Book Bash: June 29th at The Hilton Doubletree in Orlando Florida from 12 p.m.- 4 p.m.
The Naughty Mafia Rocks Vegas: August 16-20 at The Hard Rock Casino in Las Vegas  

There's so much more going on, but I'll have to keep it a secret for a little while longer. Stay tuned and make plans to join me at these awesome signing events!