Sit down. Grab a glass of water-or something stronger, if that's how your spirit leans. You've wandered into my neck of the woods, and I ought to warn you: the coffee here is as black as a funeral shroud, and the alibis are twice as flimsy.

I don't write for the faint of heart. I write for the folks who look at a dark basement and wonder what's breathing under the stairs. I write for the ones who know that sometimes, the person smiling at you across the dinner table is the most dangerous thing in the house. My search history looks like a police blotter from a town you'd never want to stop in for gas, and my drafts are cluttered with secrets that were never meant to see the light of day.

Step inside if you're brave enough. But don't go looking for a happily ever after. In my world, we don't do happy endings. We do justified ones. The kind that keep you awake long after the lamp is turned out.