Sneak Peek Two Upcoming Book: Titan the Paint Horse and my Panic Attack

I stood barefoot in the soft soil of the horse pen, enclosed by turquoise wooden boards. Waves crashed nearby. The wind drifted in from distant shores, carrying the scent of deep water and adventure. I brushed a brown-and-white paint horse named Titan as he measured me with his deep, chocolate-colored eyes. I whispered to him gently, running my knuckles along the velvet of his nose.

“What’s coming up for you?” the equine therapist asked softly. She was a cowgirl, the kind with quiet wisdom behind her gaze. Her tanned skin creased with white lines around her eyes—etched by years of sun, and life. I shook my head, confused, anxiety suddenly rising in my chest.

“I don’t know,” I said, breath quickening. “I feel afraid... but not of horses.”

Memories stirred—my step-grandfather’s ranch, riding Sugar, his chestnut mare, summers under the desert sky, the wild mustangs from long ago, taking my children out to ride at a friend’s ranch. These were peaceful, grounding times. So why this fear now?

“Who are you afraid of?” she asked, her voice steady, cutting through the fog.

And instantly—I knew.

“I’m not afraid of horses,” I said, voice cracking. “I’m afraid of something bigger and stronger than me... something that can hurt me.”

Then the memory came.

Tears spilled freely, caught in the salty breeze and blown sideways across my jaw. I was back in that white pickup truck. Speeding down a rural Utah road. The speedometer nearly hitting 100 mph. He was screaming. I was screaming.

“I’ll crash this truck and kill us both!” he shouted.

And I reached for the door handle, prepared to jump.

It was the Fourth of July. Independence Day.

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Book Release and Launch