Tidbit Thursday Number 2!

Caroline gave Edison more rope, letting a loop of slack hang between her and him. She took a couple of steps back toward Connor and the door, and spoke softly under her breath, making Connor strain to hear her.

“Come on, bud. You can trust me,” Caroline whispered and waited.

Edison stretched his nose toward her and snorted. Caroline lifted her hand, letting Edison smell her fingers. Edison blinked, then took a small step forward. Without hesitation, Caroline turned and walked out of the stall. Edison matched her steps…
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Today’s Tidbit Thursday! Edison is such an important piece of Caroline’s story. This is just the beginning!

Preorder Caroline’s Lighthouse today so you can find out what’s next! Release date is September 29! Here’s the link.

Sample Sunday Number Two!

Sample Sunday Number 2!

Today I’m sharing a longer excerpt to show that Caroline’s Lighthouse is about more than just horses.

Her heart was heavy as she let her mind wander back to last night’s fight with her mom. If it was like every other conflict they’d had since her accident, nothing more would ever be said about it. They’d just go on like it hadn’t happened, until the next fight built on it. The cycle was exhausting, and she wanted it to end. No matter what it took.
            Her mind flipped back to her mom walking away from her minutes before. She lost herself in the rhythm of Benji’s walk as another image of her mom walking away played out in her head.


            Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Caroline clutched the warm blanket with one hand. Her right arm was throbbing, and the chilling cold of the hallway was making it worse.
            The ER was so packed that there weren’t any rooms open. Caroline was in a recliner in the hallway, watching the scurry of doctors and nurses, patients and paramedics.
            Her dad sat in a chair next to her, while her mom paced back and forth, checking her watch every few minutes.
            “This is really taking too long.” Holly sighed, exasperated.
            “They’re pretty busy, honey,” Doug said calmly, squeezing Caroline’s left hand softly. “You’re doing okay, right, kiddo?” Caroline nodded her head, her eyes never leaving her mom…

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What happens next? Caroline’s Lighthouse releases in about five weeks! You can preorder yours today!

Tidbit Thursday!

Tidbit Thursday! I’m excited to share another excerpt from Caroline’s Lighthouse! 

After everything Caroline has been through, getting back in the saddle means more than just competing. It’s about facing fears and chasing rekindled dreams. 

And maybe finding herself again. 

Caroline’s Lighthouse releases September 29! The link to preorder is here.

Caroline’s Purpose

Caroline’s Purpose was my first book—the story that started it all. 💛

It’s the beginning of Caroline’s journey: faith tested, purpose uncovered, and hope quietly growing when the path isn’t clear.

If you haven’t read it yet, now is the perfect time. Read it now, so you’re ready for what comes next.

Buy it here.

Remembering What it Feels Like to Fly

“A smile spread across Caroline’s face, for so many reasons. Because of her mother’s praise. Because she had just cleared an oxer set to 3’9”. Because she had finally let determination overcome fear. But most of all, because she was starting to remember what it felt like to fly.”
Just a small sneak peak of what I’ve been writing lately. Still have a ways to go! This video is from nine years ago today.

Caroline’s Purpose: Video

If you’ve ever wrestled with fear, faith, or finding your footing after loss, Caroline’s Purpose is for you. Follow Caroline Davis as she navigates heartbreak, healing, and unexpected hope in the form of an abused horse and a boy who understands more than he lets on. With tenderness, authenticity, and a message of redemption, this emotionally rich novel invites readers to believe in second chances. Don’t miss your chance to grab it for under a dollar—download Caroline’s Purpose on Kindle today and discover how the hardest seasons can lead to the most beautiful transformations.

Magic

Magic. Not the abracadabra kind. Not the make wishes come true kind. Not the black caldron of spells kind. But the kind you find within yourself. The kind you find when you accomplish the impossible. The little spark inside your heart when you find a dream.

She used to chase that magic on the field, in the circle. Spinning and striking, swinging and swiping. Then she chased it in the arena, collecting and clearing, cadencing and celebrating.

But now, that magic is found not in her awards, as her dreams wait their turn. But in little fingers, little toes. Big smiles and baby curls. In fixing boo boos with one kiss. In words like “mama” and “more,” “hug” and “hooray.” In arms reaching up. In first tastes of something new. In new feats figured out.

In their precious heart beats.

Some say her magic has been lost. But she says it’s only just begun.

Something Beautiful

She landed where she didn’t belong,
In a place of fear and uncertainty.
None of her plans worked out,
Not a single dream came true.

She questioned why she was there,
What good it could possibly be for.
She’d ruined everything else she’d touched.
Why would this be any different?

She felt out of place, not good enough,
To stay put where she had been placed.
She was hurt, frustrated, ready to quit,
Until she was gently and sweetly reminded

She doesn’t do anything alone.

It’s through His strength, and not her own,
That she is used for His plan.
So even in a place she never thought of,
In a dream she had never had,

He can make something beautiful.

Why I Write

One simple moment to shift everything back into perspective, to make you ready for the future, to fight for your dreams.

I realized I wasn’t like the other kids when I was eleven. I was quiet, shy, and stayed out of trouble. I had friends, but I didn’t really fit in. I preferred being by myself. I preferred quiet.
My fifth grade teacher assigned us to write a poem for a contest. She and a few other teachers would read them and select three to be submitted for publication. All the other kids in my class put together short pieces, the minimum length that had been assigned. It was simply homework to them. But not to me. Pages and pages of words and rhymes poured out of me. I had never felt so proud of something I created.
It was in writing my poem that I realized why I preferred the quiet. There were so many stories and characters running around in my brain that the noise and company of others could be deafening. I wanted to be in the world of my creation, where I was in control of everything. My characters said what I wanted them to say, and nothing happened without my permission. Writing helped me understand myself.
My imagination continued to grow as I got older, and writing was something I longed for. But there were some critics that caused me to doubt my passion. There were people who laughed and told me my stories were silly. As time went on, fear clouded my brain, and the stories stopped getting put down on paper. They stayed in my mind, where I could keep them safe and unharmed from the real world, protected from the opinions of others.
Fear kept the words from being written down, but the stories were still there, begging for a way to come out. Begging for a way to be told, to be expressed. I can’t fight them anymore, I have to let them out.
I’ve learned now that people don’t get to control how you see yourself. They don’t get a say in your passions, or in what you pursue. They shouldn’t be able to make you afraid to be yourself. But sometimes, it happens, even if it shouldn’t. Sometimes you’re afraid and you forget how to be yourself. And all it takes to bring you back is one simple moment. One simple moment to shift everything back into perspective, to make you ready for the future, to fight for your dreams.
I want to learn everything I can about how to be a good writer, so I can use the gift God has given me and let my stories see the light of day. I want to fight the fear and win. I want my true self to shine through my words. My characters deserve to have a voice and to be heard, and I want access to every tool I can get my hands on in order for that to happen. I don’t want to be afraid; I want to be a writer