Hello everyone!

As promised, I finally have a link to share with you all. If you go to the front page, you’ll see a button that says, “Pre-Order at Barnes & Noble.” (That feels surreal to share.) It will also be at the bottom of this post.

The website says it’s in a large-print format, but it’s not. It will be in a standard paperback size. It is also available on Amazon, but not as a pre-order. There will be a website edition one day, but not at this time.

I also wanted to give those who’ve waited patiently a little something to help them through the wait. Here is the first chapter of my first novel, for you to enjoy!

I think it really sets the tone for the story to come. If you enjoy it, consider picking it up on November 13th!

Amberhollow

It’s not exactly every girl’s dream to move to a new town a few weeks before prom, especially when you don’t know anyone. I guess it’s just not ideal. We only get one life, right? I didn’t think mine would feel this out of control. One minute I’m with my childhood friends, planning college, and now–I’m here. I didn’t choose this place; I chose something else. I chose my dad.

Back in Denver, we lived next to a huge botanical garden, so I had a ‘greener’ view than everyone else around me. I used to gaze out at the flowers behind thick walls of glass, and take strolls through them on the weekends. Now it’s the opposite. I crave the feeling of home. I miss seeing a building taller than one story.

A crackle cuts my ear as the radio fades in and out with the sounds of AM radio. My dad has always been old-school like that. Even at his still-youthful forty-three, he looks fierce and rugged. His clean-shaven face is the only thing holding what youth he has together.

We ride in silence, passing through the openness of this place, my stomach growling. Loud enough to compete with the radio’s bassy voices. I haven’t eaten anything today. His eyes lock onto me for a moment. Awkwardly, I put my hand over my stomach and look out the window.

“Getting hungry?” he asks, returning his gaze to the road ahead.

“A little,” I lie, hoping my stomach doesn’t roar again.

“You’ve barely eaten anything since we’ve gotten here,” he says, hands resting gently on the wheel. I turn my eyes away from the windshield to my passenger-side window. I watch as the early spring grass waves up and down the meadows.

“I know you aren’t happy here,” he says, as his thumb grazes the wheel up and down. He’s lost in his own head.

“I’m fine, Dad. Still trying to adjust is all.” But that was a lie. I’m not fine. I’m as well-adjusted as I’ll ever be.

“You never know, dear. You might just find something here that you never would’ve seen coming.”

His words ring in my ears, and I consider that he may be right. I know it’s unfair to him that I’m not giving Amberhollow a fair shot. But I didn’t come here for the scenery, and definitely not for fairness. I press my face against the window, still trying to hide the emotion from him. With every grassy field we pass, I grow more lonely.

“How about some dinner?” I hear, “Pizza?”

“Do they even have that here?” I ask, genuinely wondering. Amberhollow is a lot of things, but a bustling, up-and-coming town is not one of them. In Denver, I could walk down the street, find anything, meet anyone. Here, you have to drive fifteen minutes for a snack.

He laughs, and it’s warm. I feel a bit of the pain release from him with every chuckle. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him like that. When I was a little girl, he was always the jokester, making everyone around him laugh. It gives me some relief that maybe we’re on the right path now, back to that old version of him.

“Of course they do, honey… I think?”

“Well, pizza sounds nice,” I say. I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and type Amberhollow Pizza into the maps.

One result that’s close to us.

“There’s literally only one pizza place here,” I say, with a bit of an edge in my tone. “It says they have good food.” I’m baffled by the sheer nothingness in this town. Even a beloved food like pizza is subject to this town’s vast emptiness.

“See! I told you there was pizza!” he says, with a side smile.

I hit the start button, and the map zooms out into a white blotch of fields with a solid blue line heading straight for the middle of Amberhollow. As we get closer and closer to downtown. I start to see more and more small shops and buildings, including a gas station that’s not far from the house Dad and I are renting.

It was the first place we stopped before we called this place home. That was a few weeks ago now. Before we could drive an hour to the ‘local’ grocery store, it was dehydrated, packaged fruits and spring water for me, and Slim Jims and Gatorade for Dad.

“Have we been this far down here yet?” he asks, turning through the square, which is more of a circle.

“I’m not sure. What is that?” I shout as we pass a large mural on the side of a brick building. The words ‘Amberhollow’ are painted in huge, honey-colored letters, dripping with gold. The background is a huge, cyan sky with minimal clouds. Giant bees cover the corners, and some sit on the letters. That’s when I notice the letters themselves are ridged and filled with lines and holes. Honeycomb—How beautiful.

---

Dad parks the car in front of a blazing neon sign that reflects twice in the windshield. Next to us sits an old blue pickup truck, practically rusting.

“Good Food?” I ask, genuinely confused.

Dad bursts out laughing. “I thought you said they had good food?”

A smile spreads across my face when I look back at my phone and realize the restaurant’s name is ‘Good Food.’ I start to laugh. Watching the generic LED welcome sign flicker, I glance over and see a few juniors and seniors from school. They’re sitting outside on the cheaply made wooden table, eating and talking.

Ugh–Why me?

I sit and wait a second, watching them, and now they’re watching me too, since there’s no tint on the windows. I’m not up for social interaction right now, but Amberhollow doesn’t care how I feel. I open the car door, reach in, and grab my bag from the bottom of the seat. “Anchovies, right?” I ask. Dad nods as I shut the door.

“Alex?” I hear, muffled. I can see it’s one of the kids. He has blonde hair with a touch of red, glowing. I forgot his name. This is a small town, yes, but I don’t care to remember these people that I’ll only know for maybe a few months of my life.

I smile at him and even shoot him a little wave as I walk towards the door.

“Hey! I thought that was you. What are you doing?” he says, his smile gleaming from ear to ear. I’m a bit dumbfounded. I give him a blank stare.

“Getting pizza,” I deadpan.

“Oh, well that’s cool… Um, I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Tom, the kid who showed you where the bathrooms were last week,” he says, laughing.

“Right! I remember you,” I say, inching closer to the door of the restaurant.

“Would you like to join us?” he says, gesturing to the other kids. They smile and wave at me, and I do the same.

“Well, I’m getting it for my dad, so I really don’t have the time. How about a rain check?” I say, now with my fingers on the handle.

“A what?” “Rain check—like a… next time,” I say, opening the door and disappearing from the conversation.

I hear the others begin to laugh. I didn’t mean to embarrass him, but I didn’t want anything to do with that conversation to begin with. A boom of fresh-baked pizza hits my nose and immediately makes my mouth water. I turn, my attention drawn to the counter, and see an older gentleman at the cash register. He gives me a warm, welcoming look, his shirt covered in flour and water.

“Can I help you?” he says with a massive smile and a thick accent. His gray beard frames his chunky face. He’s definitely Italian. If it wasn’t already obvious, a huge poster of Italy hangs on the wall, with a statue of one of those fat Italian chefs. Behind that, the fire in the brick oven roars, and the anxiety turns to excitement. Good Food might actually be good food.

“Hi there!” I say, returning a smile to the man. I glance up at the board and see the standard: cheese, pepperoni, and so on.

“Weird question. Do you have anchovies?” I ask, wincing at the potential disrespect of asking an Italian man to taint his art with little fish.

“Anchovies, yes. For you?” he says, smiling a bit.

“No, sir, for my dad.” We both share a laugh. “Half cheese and half anchovy?”

He nods, turning and starting to work the dough. I sit and stare, watching him fold the dough in his arms and toss it high in the air. I think to myself—is this my new life now? This place, this pizza. I look around, noticing water stains in the ceiling tiles, a light in the back that flickers on and off.

Eventually I find a place to sit down, a really small table with napkins and red pepper flakes on it. I dust off the excess, realizing I left my phone in the car; I’m forced to people-watch. I watch the windows, noticing they’re a bit dirty. I see Tom outside talking to his friends. I bet he’s too shy to talk to me on the way out. I kind of feel bad about it, not enough to apologize, though. I see other kids from school. There’s a junior with hair as black as mine—I think his name is Rob. Another one with brown hair. I forgot his name.

Then I see a girl from behind, sitting by herself. She’s with the others, but just not engaged in the conversation. She has long, fiery blonde hair, and I wonder if she’s related to Tom. Unlike him, her arms are skinny, and her skin is so much paler. The sunlight catches a golden piece she has in her hair. I lean in, intrigued, watching her sit all by herself, surrounded by all these people.

I’m not sure that I’ve seen her at school before, but she looks my age. My stomach drops when she turns to say something to one of the others, and that’s when I see her face.

She’s beautiful.

The kind of beauty that makes you stop and stare, and I do. I swear, her look hits me so hard, it’s like my whole world drops into a blur. She shines like fire in the golden light around her. Smiling, a row of perfect teeth, her cheeks are beet red. She wears a tight green shirt that matches her shoes, with whitewashed jeans. When she eventually stands, she starts talking to one of the kids to her left.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so beautiful—I think to myself as a muffled sound reaches my ears. She glances at me, and our eyes meet for only a second, but enough. Enough for her to notice me, and enough for me to get lost.

“Miss!” I hear from behind me.

I forgot the reason I was even here. At that moment, time slipped. Everything was so slow. Even now, I want to look back, but I can’t look away.

“Sorry, I was… daydreaming,” I say, bringing my black purse around my shoulder, fishing out twenty dollars, and handing it to the burly Italian man.

“Thank you!” I say, turning to leave.

“Wait—” I hear before I can turn around. I look back.

“Your pizza?” he says, still holding it in his hands.

“Are you okay?” he says, with genuine concern in his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Something caught my attention. Thanks again,” I say as I grab the pizza from him. This time, I turn around, and they’re all getting in the beat-up truck Dad parked next to. I watched her get in last. She grabs the door and hoists herself into the cab.

For some reason, with a pizza in my hand, I rush to the door. Watching the truck speed off from this hole-in-the-wall pizza place. My heart sinks into my stomach. No—My shoes skid on the ground, my eyes locking onto the blue truck, piled with kids my age.

Who was this girl?

As I stand here, in Amberhollow, ND, watching this truck speed into a honey colored sun, I have a new worry, a new anxiety.

Will I ever see her again?

When I’m back in the car with Dad, I shut the door softly—still thinking about that girl. It’s like someone took my brain out and scrambled my whole world.

“Um—Was it that bad in there?” Dad laughs, giving me a look of genuine concern, hidden behind a joke.

“No–It was great,” I say, the girl’s look bringing a smile to my face.

“Then maybe they should call it ‘great food,’ huh?” He laughs, starts the car, and throws it in reverse.

He laughs, but I sit still—as still as I’ve ever been.

Who is the mysterious girl with golden hair? And will Alex ever see her again?

Find out in Honey on the Dashboard, available November 13th.

Pre-Order your copy today at Barnes & Noble!