If you found me through Androscoggin After Dark, you met the version of me who sends people down questionable roads and lets the river return things everyone would rather leave buried.
If you found me through Weathering the Storm, we met in a very different place.
Maybe you arrived through this blog. Maybe through the farm. Maybe because somebody handed you a little picture book full of chickens, ducks, muddy boots, and one very busy morning.
However you got here, welcome.
You do not have to read everything I write to belong here. But if you have ever looked at my bookshelf and wondered how all of these books came from the same person, I thought it was time for a proper introduction.
The place that keeps turning up
I live in Milan, New Hampshire, and the North Country has a habit of finding its way onto the page.
Sometimes it becomes the setting for a mystery. Sometimes it is the history underneath one. Sometimes it is simply the family land, woods, animals, roads, river, and ordinary routines behind a children’s story.
The books do not all belong on the same shelf. They are not written for the same reader or the same kind of day.
What connects them is place—and my fascination with what people remember, what they record, what they pass down, and what they would sometimes prefer to leave buried.
If you started with the river
Androscoggin After Dark follows four connected seasons of romantic suspense through northern New Hampshire.
If you are new to the series, begin with When the River Freezes and follow the river through spring, summer, and RiverFire in autumn.
If you have already made that trip, The Burn Line travels backward to Berlin in 1974. It is a standalone historical crime thriller from the same story world, which means you can enter there without having read the River Series first.
I try not to overexplain the connections. Part of the fun is recognizing something—a road, a history, a consequence—without somebody pointing at it before you get there.
If history is what brought you here
Not every dark story on my shelf is fiction.
Nurtured to Death looks at women, caregiving, accusation, poison, murder, and the stories New England communities told about women who became the focus of criminal investigations.
That work comes from a different part of me: the public historian who wants to know what the record actually says, what later retellings added, and where the evidence ends.
It is history rather than a fictional mystery, but it asks some of the same questions that keep turning up in my novels.
Who gets believed?
Who gets remembered?
And who gets to decide what the official story becomes?
For the days when a different book fits
Weathering the Storm belongs on another shelf entirely.
It is for parents of adult children in crisis, written from lived experience and from the recognition that loving an adult child through a catastrophic season can leave a parent trying to navigate a role nobody prepared them for.
Its companion journal creates additional space for reflection, boundaries, difficult decisions, and the things that are sometimes easier to write than say aloud.
And then there is Cluck, Quack, Good Morning!
That book opens the Legacy Acres Little Farm Stories series for young readers. It comes from morning chores, feathered chaos, family land, and the enormous importance of ordinary discoveries when you are very small.
That shelf is intentionally far away from the bodies in the river.
A few more doors are opening
There are more stories taking shape.
The Secret in the Blue Tin begins the Wildwood Diaries, a separate mystery series for younger readers.
Buzz, Buzz, Little Helpers! returns to Legacy Acres for the second Little Farm Story, this time following a hardworking bee while four little helpers create a pollinator-friendly place for bees and other tiny farm workers.
Brown Paper Packaging follows a public historian into an old mill mystery where brown paper parcels and warnings have outlasted the workers who understood them.
The Kindest People in Town heads toward psychological suspense and a community where generosity is real—but so is the cost of depending on it.
And Of the Woods opens Case 001 of The Peri Files, giving Nora Kincaid a North Country mystery of her own.
Those books are forthcoming. They are invitations to watch what is developing, not promises that every project is ready to buy today.
Start with the shelf that sounds like you
There is no required tour through everything I write.
You can come for the river and never visit the farm. You can pick up a history book and leave the romantic suspense untouched. You can read a picture book with a child and very wisely decide that bodies under the ice are a problem for another evening.
If you have already read one of my books, I would love to know where we met. A title is enough. No spoilers required.
And if you are just arriving, my Books page is the easiest place to see what is available now, what is coming next, and which story might be the right first stop.
Thank you for making room for a story from this little corner of New Hampshire.