Hi all, I've been hard at work finalizing Variants, Book Two of The Dark Mirror Trilogy for the October 7 release. I'm happy to announce that it's pre-published and the ARC review is now ready! Check out the Home page for the description and to pre-order the ebook (Audiobook, paperback, and hardback coming October 7, so set a reminder to come back to order if you prefer those formats). 

In the meantime, I'd like to offer you a sneak peek at the first two chapter of Variants. If you'd like to be an Advance Review Copy (ARC) reader, you can get a link to a free ebook copy in exchange for an honest review on Amazon on the October 7 release date at https://storyoriginapp.com/giveaways/019f9f7a-0869-700b-b6fa-5d6e7ec5ba59 

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Addison’s eyes fluttered open to a hard white glare. Fluorescent light hummed overhead, drilling into her skull. She gasped, drawing in a loud breath.
“What happened?” Her voice croaked out weakly.
A shadow moved into her field of vision. Mechanical joints whirred softly as a droid leaned over her, its ocular lenses pulsing from green to amber as they focused.
“Please remain still,” it said in a neutral voice. “I am initiating a full physical analysis.”
“Where am I?” Panic sparked in her chest. She tried to sit up.
The droid’s eyes flashed red. “Do not move.”
Addison froze, her heart pounding. The sterile smell finally registered, and the steady thrum of the table indicated that she was aboard a ship. Before she could ask another question, the hatch slid open, and Emerie limped into the room. “You’re awake!”
A wave of relief at the familiar face rolled over Addison. She bolted upright despite the droid’s warning and launched herself off the table. The room spun, but she didn’t care. She crashed into Emerie, arms wrapping tight around her in a fierce, desperate hug.
Emerie staggered but laughed softly, bracing them both. “Easy!”
“Return to the table immediately,” the droid commanded, its eyes flashing red again.
Emerie gently pried Addison’s hands loose and straightened her own rumpled shirt. “You heard the doctor.”
Grudgingly, Addison lay back down. The droid rolled closer, its lights calming to blue as it glided over her body, projecting translucent scans that flickered in the air above her skin. The table shifted, rising slightly until she was reclined.
“Where is everybody?” Addison’s gaze fell on the next table. Kylan lay motionless beside her, chest rising shallowly beneath a web of glowing diagnostics. Tubes snaked from his torso into the wall. Addison’s breath caught. “Is he okay?”
Emerie stepped closer and laid a steadying hand on Addison’s shoulder. “He took a shot to the chest. Thankfully, Symone missed his heart.”
Addison swallowed hard, then managed a crooked smile. “I’ll bet he wished she’d missed it the first time, too.”
Emerie snorted. “We didn’t expect that object to turn into the Revenge of the Exes, did we?”
Addison shook her head as memory fell into place: swelling transit points, flashes of weapons fire, the shocked realization of familiar faces twisted by rage. Landon’s ex. Kylan’s ex. Jemina. All swirling in the vortex of a collapsing universe. Her throat tightened. “Where’s Jemina?”
Emerie’s expression fell. “Gone.”
“Gone where?” Addison pushed herself up on her elbows. “We’re in the heliopause, aren’t we?”
Emerie hesitated, then sighed. “I think it’s best if Landon explains it. He’s in the cockpit with the other AI unit, trying to figure out where we are.”
“Figure it out?” The words echoed in the metallic room.
Emerie crossed to the wall console, eyes scanning the medical readouts the droid was transmitting. “You need food and more rest so the nanotech can finish repairing the internal damage, but you’re stable enough to hear what’s happened.”
The droid chimed its agreement and rolled toward Kylan’s table.
Addison slid off the bed more carefully this time, one hand pressed to her abdomen. A dull ache answered her touch. Her eyes flicked to Emerie’s. “What have we done?”
Emerie frowned. “The impossible.”
 
Chapter 2

Emerie’s Personal Journal – Day 5
I suppose dates are meaningless when the universe giving them context no longer exists. Calendars assume continuity, and that’s gone. I mark time by survival. Five twenty-four-hour cycles, based on our circadian rhythms since everything we knew ended. Five days since we were forced to learn how to survive in a reality that does not know us.
The ship has settled into a strange rhythm. Repairs. Healing. Quiet meals punctuated by long silences. No one says it aloud, but we are all listening for ghosts: old signals, familiar stars, anything that might prove this is temporary. So far, the universe remains indifferent.
At dinner last night, we finally agreed that before strategy, before science, before hope, we had to accept a set of hard truths. Naming them didn’t make them easier, but it made them real, and gave us a framework for our current reality.
First: we cannot go back.
The whys hover constantly—why us, why now, why betrayal—but they are luxuries we can no longer afford. Answers may come later, but they won’t change our present reality. What matters is forward motion. A new home. A new future. A new definition of life that does not rely on where we came from.
Second: Jemina betrayed us.
Writing that feels like cutting into my soul.
The others have agreed to treat it as secondary; a tragic but settled variable. For them, it’s logical. For me, it’s impossible. She’s my daughter. My only child. I raised her to question authority, to challenge assumptions, to think critically. I never imagined she would turn those instincts against me. Against us. Against the universe. She chose to go with them. That is the truth I choke on. Karis reached her on Europa, and I was too blind to see the fracture forming. I replay every conversation now, every hesitation I ignored, every moment I told myself she was fine. That error carries catastrophic consequences. I should have known better. There is no excuse for me to make such a critical miscalculation with my own child.
Somehow, I have to find a way to forgive both of us.
I hope she is still alive. I need her to be. Not just because she’s my daughter, but because I can’t survive this new reality without understanding why she made that choice. I need to face her. I need to hear her truth, even if it destroys what’s left of mine.
Third: we are not alone.
There are potentially at least three others out there — Karis, Symone, and Jemina — and they hold knowledge we do not. They may have been killed in the incident that threw us here, but I doubt it. Something about the way they were able to transport off that ship seemed calculated and intentional. At any rate, they believe we are dead, which may be our only advantage. The way they lured us into the trap by weaponizing the transverse network proves they can move through space and time with an ease we barely comprehend. They are already using that knowledge against us.
We must prepare for another encounter. Negotiation is the hope. Survival may demand something harsher. I don’t like the version of myself that thought introduces, but I can feel it forming anyway.
Fourth: we cannot survive where we are.
This universe is too young, too empty, and too hostile to sustain us. Whatever clues they left behind—energy signatures, temporal code, anomalies in the physics—we must find and study them. Travel through universes, through space and time, is no longer theoretical. It is the key to survival, and ignorance will kill us faster than any weapon.
Fifth: our universe is dead, and we are contamination.
We will disrupt everywhere we go. We will introduce knowledge, technology, and history that does not belong. To survive ethically (if that word still applies), we must minimize our impact. That likely means finding universes where we never existed, or settling into young realities before recordkeeping and scientific frameworks are robust enough to expose us.
We are refugees with DNA that rewrites reality.
These truths have changed everything I believed about purpose, discovery, and responsibility. There is no time to grieve properly. No time for careful, methodical science. Survival demands improvisation.
We are fortunate to have the shuttle. Landon’s reconfiguration of the 4D printer into a crude replicator has bought us time - food, clothing, basic supplies - but time is all it has bought us. Resources will run out. Systems will degrade. Even our AI droids will need updating, and doing so without detection may be as dangerous as doing nothing at all.
We must find a universe where replenishment is possible, where we can hide long enough to adapt. And still, beneath every calculation and every contingency, I come back to Jemina.
I know it’s irrational. Chasing the snake that bit you instead of finding the antidote rarely ends well, but she is my constant variable in an unresolved equation. Understanding her choice feels as essential to my survival as food or air.
In this impossible reality, where the multiverse is no longer theory and strings bind entire universes together, that need remains stubbornly human.
I need to know why.

Hi everybody, I hope you had a safe and fun Independence Day. Most of all, I hope you were able to stay cool to enjoy the long weekend, as the entire country was under a heat dome. Yikes! It used to not be like that. I actually offered some tips on managing the heat in my latest video, which you can check out here.

Since we’re on the topic of staying cool when things heat up, I want to talk about another topic that’s come up repeatedly this month. I’ve had three people talk to me about people getting angry at them because they refused to do huge “favors” that they were unwilling or unable to comply with. While most of these conversations revolved around routine things (jobs, volunteer activities), at least one had the potential to actually end a relationship. The common thread I found in all of these things was a simple concept from the 19th century that I thought most people knew, but obviously don’t. So for the sake of helping all of you overwhelmed, overworked middle-age women who just need a break every now and then, here’s the secret to getting people to do what you want:

What’s in it for me?

The origin of this idiom is unknown, but it’s been around over 100 years, which means it’s significant. If you want people to help you out, then you need to offer them something in return of equal value to them. It’s basic psychology reflecting our cultural attitude toward self-interest, and it still applies because people are still up to their eyeballs trying to hold together their own life. If you want people to put aside their regular routine and expectations, you have to offer to return something to them that provides:

1. Time,
2. Money, or
3. Solves a problem.

I think what makes this so hard to understand is that it means you have to know the person you’re choosing to depend on. That means you have to acknowledge that they have a life, thoughts, and interests that are different from your own, and are motivated by things that you may or may not understand. For example, you might be alright with helping somebody move furniture for a pizza and a beer. I might need that time for a repair project at home that a beer and pizza won’t fix. You’d probably be more likely to get my help if you offered to come over next weekend to help fix the hole in my roof from our recent leak repair. Then we could get that beer and pizza after we get the hole patched and the furniture moved.

I know. We’re supposed to help one another BECAUSE IT’S THE RIGHT THING TO DO. The problem is that what’s right in one situation might not be right in another. And then there’s the human tendency to push boundaries, and to become increasingly co-dependent when people enable others who take advantage of “doing the right thing.” The “what’s in it for me” removes that ambiguity by assuring you that the person asking values you as a human, and not as a tool to get what they want – especially in a society that encourages and rewards relationships only as functions to build up the self.

And really, considering what's in it for the other person is the right thing to do. If I make an ask of you, I should be willing to reciprocate. I should want to because our relationship matters, and I want to make your life better because you make my life better. We should help each other grow, because relationships aren’t tools you store in a box, and pull out at need. They’re living, breathing things that need to be nurtured and developed with regular care and attention.

That’s all today. Take care, and have a great week.

​Bye!

What’s something you read or watch that you don’t want others to know about? You know what I mean – the stuff you check out at the library because you don’t want your algorithm on Amazon or social media messed up by breaking form? We all have those “guilty pleasures” that we don’t usually talk about, but need to give ourselves a mental break, or at least some variety. But I think it’s ok to acknowledge it, because we are complex creatures, and our needs shift depending on what’s happening in life right now.

I’ll make an admission: I don’t tell most people that I read Elin Hilderbrand books. I’m not a romance fan, but sometimes I need a break from the hard core sci-fi and mystery/suspense when my brain is stretched from all of that processing and neuroplasticity. I was pleasantly surprised when my latest find, Winter in Paradise, turned into not only a mystery, but a trilogy. How about that for working out? Not only did I give my muse a break with variety, but I got some ideas for my own writing as well. It turns out that Women’s fiction isn’t fluff. There’s plenty of plot and character development that inspired me to investigate my own characterization and plotting to include relationship drama right alongside the science and mystery of my own work.

I tell you this because it’s normal to want something different every now and then. Our minds crave variety and novelty, and one way to feed this desire is to read or watch something that you normally don’t. It’s ok for a Marvel fan to binge the Father Brown series (which helped me through a tough personal life season). It’s not a problem if a person who usually binges true crime series watches a Hallmark movie. Nobody blames you if you switch from the Star Trek channels on PlutoTV to The Andy Griffith Show or Bob Barker Era The Price is Right because you feel nostalgic. And it’s ok for a person who usually likes energetic, chaotic grunge and metal to meditate and listen to soundscapes tunes if your energy is ebbing today. I do all of these things. Except the Hallmark channel thing. That’s not by choice. It’s what Mom leaves on at her house all the time, and I’m hostage.

The point is that it’s safe to have contradictions within yourself. In fact, it’s normal. So, embrace the complex layers that are you, and let us know what out of character “guilty pleasures” you have on the social media channels!

That’s all today. Take care. Have a Happy Friday tomorrow and a wonderful weekend!

​Bye!

Chapter 2
“Kuiper Station?”

Jemina’s voice cracked on the name. On Emerie’s screen, her daughter’s face was framed by the sterile gray walls, modular panels, and the faint glow of status lights embedded in the corners of her office on Lunar Base One. The background made Jemina’s features stand out sharply: pale skin dusted with freckles, green eyes bright with disbelief, fiery red hair pulled back in a utilitarian twist that did nothing to soften the accusation in her expression. “You’re giving yourself the chance you never gave Dad.”

The words landed exactly where Emerie expected them to. Still, they hurt.

Emerie swallowed, her throat tightening as she sat alone in her home office on Earth. She had pushed the clutter of data slates aside to clear space for the call, but the room still felt cramped, weighed down by gravity and the stale heaviness of recycled air. She folded her hands together to keep them from shaking. “That’s not fair,” she said quietly. “Your father didn’t want the advanced treatments. You know he was one of the disconnected. No genetic engineering. No off-world medicine. He wanted to live and die human, on the planet where we were created.”

Jemina crossed her arms, the fabric of her gray uniform creasing sharply. “It wasn’t always that way. He had an active neural chip until he retired. He traveled the inner system for work and knew it like he knew our backyard.” Her jaw tightened. “Then he got cancer, and suddenly he grounded himself.”

“You know the radiation exposure made spaceflight dangerous during treatment,” Emerie said. “It could have undermined what little time we had.”

“That hasn’t been true for twenty years,” Jemina shot back. “Nanotech fixed that.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why his sudden change of morals was such a big secret, but I’m starting to accept that I’ll never know. Family secrets usually turn out to be something incredibly stupid.”

Emerie winced. “Some things aren’t simple, Jemina. Life looks different when you have more years behind you.”

Jemina leaned back until her chair creaked. “Should I be comforted that you don’t share his morals now that you’re sick, or should I call you a hypocrite?”

The word hung between them.

Emerie drew a careful breath. “I don’t have cancer. Not yet. My last physical scan showed cells in my lungs failing to differentiate properly. It’s a precursor condition. Stem-cell therapy can correct it, but that’s only available off Earth.”

Jemina straightened instantly. Her arms fell to her sides, and she gripped the edge of her desk hard enough that her knuckles whitened. “So you get a medical exemption now. Too late for Dad, but just in time for you.”

Emerie raised her hands helplessly. “What do you want me to say? I argued with him for months. In the end, I had to respect his decision. You can’t force people to save themselves.”

Jemina looked away, swiping at her eye with her sleeve.

“I thought you’d be happy,” Emerie continued softly. “I thought you’d want at least one parent alive.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jemina said, turning back. “What happened? Where did this perfectly timed miracle come from?”

Emerie hesitated, then decided not to soften it. “I’m transferring through work to expand the deep-space research in progress at Kuiper Station. Addison Shull, one of my former undergraduate students at MIT, identified an anomaly in the heliopause two years ago. The object disappeared six months ago, and she was discredited, but an AI engineer on Kuiper Station detected new signals two weeks ago that included temporal distortions and possible linguistic structure. Space Solutions and SETI want a team to investigate.”

Jemina snorted. “As head of Physics at SETI, you’re the obvious choice. Why now? Why not sooner?”

“It wasn’t possible before. The Space Authority owned Addison’s research. They only released it recently, along with her.” Emerie spread her hands. “Space Solutions is consolidating off-world assets. They want their own team on Kuiper Station.”

“And you demanded Addison,” Jemina said flatly.

“Yes.”

Jemina shook her head. “They trashed her publicly. I can’t imagine they were thrilled.”

“They wanted her away from the Space Authority and off Earth,” Emerie said. “Her mentor was too visible. This was strategic.”

“She’s okay with this?”

“She doesn’t know all of the details. All she knows is that her contract has been transferred, and I requested it be assigned to my team.”

Jemina let out a humorless laugh. “Figures.”

Emerie leaned forward. “Politics are worse Earthside. Out there, at least the science matters.”

“And space fixes all corruption,” Jemina said dryly.

Emerie sighed. “Nothing fixes everything. I know this might be a mistake, but I can’t stay.” She paused. “None of us can. Earth has exiled the interstellar scientists. They’re invoking an ‘Earth First’ policy that will direct all planetary resources toward restoring the planet, and will no longer support the interstellar community.”

Jemina crossed her arms. “It’s a good thing we can sustain ourselves. Did they consider that we might be better off without them?”

Emerie shrugged. “Probably not. Does it matter? The decision is made. One way or another, I’d have to leave.”

“When was your scan?”

“Three weeks ago.”

Jemina’s expression hardened. "First, my father dies on that overheated dictatorship of a planet, and now I’m losing my mother to deep space. Are you trying to make me an orphan?”

“You left Earth,” Emerie said gently. “Maybe you wanted distance.”

Jemina flushed. “You’ve always chosen your work.”

Emerie’s voice broke. “I’m trying to choose life.”

Silence followed, broken only by the faint hum of station systems bleeding through Jemina’s feed. Finally, Jemina said quietly, “The entire solar system is at your disposal, and you chose Kuiper Station. That’s as far away as you can go.”

​Emerie nodded. “And maybe far enough to matter.”