The Psychic – Evelyn

The Psychic – Evelyn
She has always had powers: the ability to see into people and situations. But she’s kept this information close, keenly aware she is the embodiment of what people fear most. This time, this case, is different. She cannot ignore its call. Should she risk everything? Will doing this stop the nightmares or will she just find herself thrust deeper into the horror?


Lost Girl, Amy

Lost Girl Amy:
She was homeless when the darkness found her: broken and alone. She longs for the power and control over her life that was stripped from her at a very early age. His whispers are dark promises she cannot resist. Will she follow him at the risk of losing her identity? Or is the price just too much?


Midnight Sun: Book One of The Anastomosis Series

I’m pleased to announce that the final edits for my next book are finally done. The book should be up for preorder in the next few weeks and it is part one of a paranormal/fantasy mystery series.
A detective assigned to track down a serial killer finds himself wrapped up in a case involving a demon hunter, a psychic, and a creature far more evil than he could imagine. Will they be able to stop it before it feeds on more human souls?


Does This Read Like Erotica to You?

Included below is the rape scene excerpt from the story that Amazon classified as Erotica after I published it with a Content Warning. I’m only including it here now so people can see how deeply disturbed I am that Amazon would do this and how doing so perpetuates the myth that women enjoy being raped and that we consider it erotic. (To find out more about this issue see the article here:
If you read the excerpt below and are as outraged as I am, please help me by spreading the word. Share the petition ( and this excerpt to help me show people exactly what is happening. I know a great many of you have already done this and you should know I appreciate it tremendously. Thank you. But please help me as I continue to fight, we cannot stop until they change their policies completely.
Rape Scene Excerpt from “The Price”
“The memory of the blood soaked paper towels torment me in my quieter hours. I can still see the tears sliding down her cheek and onto the rough white surface as she folded it into a tight rectangle and slipped it between her thighs to keep the blood from leaking onto her cheerfully bright panties.
In the midst of her pain she had summoned me. I could feel her need pulling at me with such raw force that I was jerked away from the house and found myself in the room with her. For a moment I could feel the house trying to yank me back, but I held onto my connection with Shana, and focused everything I had on that moment, on that room. I watched as he brutalized her, trapped in my ghost state, unable to do anything but flail at his back with my invisible hands. I tried to pry him off of her, but my fingers simply fell through his flesh.
Although I could not bear to leave her, I knew I had to if I were going to try to get help.”

Why I am Raising a Feminist

Why I am Raising a Feminist

For a long time I didn’t think of myself as a feminist. I didn’t really think of myself as having labels. I knew I was stronger than most men I had been around. I was bigger. I was more assertive and outspoken than most women. Even though I never changed my name when I got married it never occurred to me that I was a feminist. I just knew what I wanted and I wasn’t afraid to speak up for it. I didn’t know that doing these things made me different or exceptional.

I had strong female role models. My mom always worked and her job was just as important in the family as my father’s. They were both professionals and I never heard my father talk down about my mom working or try to convince her that her place was at home. She was his equal. I had my aunts: crazy, funny, insanely protective and fierce women who taught me that you could be both sexual and strong. One was not mutually exclusive of the other.

So at a young age I knew I could be just as smart and just as important as any man and that I could be strong and sure of my body and in command of my sex life. These revelations didn’t just magically come to me, but they were ingrained deep enough that by the end of my teenage years I was a mold that had been firmly set.

That truth has not always been passed on to women. Even as direct and assertive as I am I cannot say that I’ve never been touched inappropriately or that no man has ever groped me. It would be a lie.

That is why even now I’ve had to talk to my daughter about permissions, about body control, about good and bad touches. I’ve had to explain to her that she keeps no secrets from mommy and that no one is allowed to touch her in a bad way. She has to know that if she tells me something important that I will listen and I will believe her. I will not tell her that boys will be boys or that is just how things are. I will not ask her if she is sure that it was a bad touch. She knows the difference by now and it is my job as her mother to listen and respect her.

I’ve had to constantly tell her that she is strong and smart and that she can do anything she wants. I hold my tongue when I want to caution her because I know that she will learn the most through trial and error and she is not fragile simply because she is a girl. I encourage her love of dinosaurs and outer space just as much as I have tea parties and watch her care for her furry babies. I know that both of these diverse interests will help her live a full life.

As the news about sexual assault and groping broke there were a torrent of women who started to share their stories of being assaulted by men in their lives. I know that my main goal as her mother is to make sure that she knows when she decides to have sex it is something that needs to be up to her. It is my hope that she will not feel pressured because the other person is stronger or richer or more popular or because she thinks she owes them something. If anyone touches her without permission she has to fight back. Like a wild, caged, vicious animal she should fight.

She should know that her mother worked to dismantle the system, that I spent my days encouraging her to think for herself and to question authority and to fight for what she knew in her heart to be right because those were skills she would need her entire life. I want her to never be afraid to be assertive because she might be seen as a bitch. I want her to love herself no matter what because having self-esteem and self worth is the best way to make sure that you don’t ever do anything you aren’t comfortable with.

Most importantly, I’m raising a feminist because I know no other way to be. The truth I denied for many years is that I have always been a feminist. I have always fought for equality and I have never thought or considered myself to be less than a man or defined my value on the kind of man I could attract.

My hope is that she spreads this truth among her friends like fire, that they see her strength and compassion and hope and love and know that feminism isn’t a bad word. It isn’t the scary villain out to smash your worldview.

No, feminism is my grandmother going back to college after she had raised her family because it was something she always wanted to do. It is my mother working in the sciences in a time when there were hardly any women in the field. It is my father telling me I am just as capable as any boy. It is my aunt point blank stating that I don’t have to laugh at shitty jokes just because a man tells them. It is my husband cooking every night because I am crap in the kitchen. It is every woman who ever felt like there was more to life than the role she’d been assigned and tried to do more. It is every man who respects women’s rights to body autonomy and equality. It is what we should strive for every single day.

Open Letter to Jeff Bezos Concerning Rape Culture on Amazon


I recently tried to publish my story on Amazon. I have other books and stories on there and have never had a problem. However, this horror story was put into the erotic category. I can only assume that it was because I put a content/trigger warning on the story about a non-graphic rape of a 13 year old girl. I called and talked to someone to explain that I was uncomfortable with the idea of a 13 year old being raped and having to endure the demons that come with that being put into the “erotic” category. The part of the story deals with her friend trying to save her and then being forced to comfort her afterward and how that changes their relationship. However, I was informed that there was NOTHING I could do to have the book placed in an appropriate category. Once it was labeled as “Erotica” it had to stay there.

Since I am DEEPLY uncomfortable with the idea of someone calling that scenario erotic and continuing the disturbing trend of “rape culture” in America I unpublished the book. I seriously think needs to reevaluate what constitutes being placed into the erotic section. You are doing nothing but feeding into the idea that women and young girls enjoy being raped and that it is considered sexual. One in four women have been the victim of rape or molestation. We need to be able to have books and stories that deal with this in a serious manner without being inappropriately labeled (sexualized/fetishized).
I also have to wonder if this would have happened to a larger publishing house. If someone had contacted me and asked about the content warning I would have explained. We could have had a conversation and tried to work this out. Instead I only found out when I checked the Amazon page to see how everything looked before launch. I am all around disgusted by this.

Your company needs to change its policies and the way it deals with the labeling of erotica material immediately. The longer this goes on, the harder it is for the 25% of women who are victims to find closure and move on in their lives. If someone in your department considers the discussion of a 13 year old enduring a rape to be erotic material then that indicates a problem on your company’s part that needs to be rectified.

Kristi Brooks

Things I Want my Daughter to Know

Things I want my daughter to know:

  1. It is okay to be weird. Truly.
  2. Love yourself, because waiting for someone else to do it is exhausting work.
  3. Don’t waste one moment. Not one, because life hits freaking warp speed sometime around 25 and living with regrets can weigh you down.
  4. Give one random compliment to a stranger every day. Seeing other people smile will make you happier. I promise.
  5. Talk to people for the hell of it. You’ll learn a lot more about life this way than you will in a book.
  6. Learn to take a compliment without feeling guilty. If someone says you’re beautiful or how you have a good smile tell them “Thank You” and smile. But don’t make up an excuse about how you could look or be better. Go with it.
  7. Also, know that you don’t owe them anything for the compliment. It is what it is.
  8. On that note, you also don’t owe them anything if they buy you dinner, or drinks, or even a house. LITERALLY YOU OWE THEM NOTHING IF THEY DECIDE TO GIVE YOU STUFF. That’s not how life works.
  9. If you love something don’t let anyone tell you that it is silly or stupid. Shut them down.
  10. Likewise, don’t tell someone that something they like is silly or stupid because it is different from you.
  11. Embrace your differences in your friends. You will grow into different things, but that does not mean you have to grow apart. Hanging around with people the same as you every single day would get boring.
  12. Don’t forget to be nice to the lonely/shy kids. Sometimes they just have trouble reaching out.
  13. Don’t let the world harden you. Smile whenever you get the chance. Laugh and feel it deep down in your belly. Know that there is still a tomorrow coming over the horizon and you can control more of it than you realize.
  14. Never lose your imagination.
  15. It’s okay to be angry and sad and happy all at once. I do this. I laugh when I’m not supposed to, cry at commercials, and smile when I’m tired. Try not to question it because….
  16. …thinking too much about things you can’t decipher will make you fall down the rabbit hole.
  17. Never stop expanding your horizons. Knowledge is not something to be ashamed of or to back away from.
  18. Please don’t use slang just because everyone else is doing it.
  19. For that matter, don’t do what everyone else is doing. Usually that way gets you in more trouble than it’s worth.
  20. Plus, every time you do it you sacrifice a little piece of who you are inside. The cost is too high to follow the crowd.
  21. I love you. I love every single moment of you. I miss your baby coos and your sweet bubbly giggles, and I love your jokes that make no sense and the way you crawl on me when you want snuggles now.
  22. No matter how mad I get or how frustrated I become when you get older, know that I still love you. Always.

I See You

Being an artist is about being raw and true to yourself and to your vision of the world around you. It requires you to be both fearful and fearless simeltaneously. I tell that to my students all of the time, but they are just words. I had forgotten what it was like to live in that limbo of being brutally honest, yet hidden in the depths. I had forgotten what it meant to be someone who creates because there is no other alternative.

You see I couldn’t stop creating if I tried. It’s built into me, into my genetic code. My grandma was the same way. Up until the arthritis curled her hands and bit into her hips she would sit for hours and paint or sew or crochet or string jewelry: anything to help create something in the world. 

She passed away this week, and I didn’t realize until then how much braver she was than I ever gave her credit for. I had spent my life looking at her through one lens, that of grandma. To me she was someone who raised her family and lived a typical housewife existence and who loved to craft as a hobby. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I loved her any differently because of this perception.

I just didn’t see her. I didn’t appreciate her fire, didn’t see her as a young woman who put her dreams on hold only to go back to college later when her children were grown so she could follow her dream. I didn’t see how much courage it would have taken for her to do this, to branch out into a world she didn’t really know and go back to school with people half her age in order to learn more and grow as a person.

After school she took her art on the road, going out with the items she created and putting them up for people to look at and criticize. This is the hardest thing for any artist to do, and she did it with grace and style. She never lost her love of her art or her desire to create.

One painting has always stuck with me. It was a Bengal Tiger standing in wispy blades of yellow grass against a coal black sky. His eyes were not filled in but he stood strict and at attention, his entire body poised against the unknown. When I was younger I used to stare at it for hours and beg her to finish. She never would. She told me once she just wasn’t sure if she could. I didn’t understand it then, couldn’t understand why someone would invest so much in something they could not finish. I understand now. In fact, I’m fighting with some of my own demons on my unfinished stories. This painting is with me now, a constant reminder to not leave things undone.

I was going through pictures after the service and all of a sudden I saw my grandma as she had been, a fully formed person. There were smiles and laughter, tears and doubts, and through it all the story of her life. The story I had always missed because I couldn’t take off my glasses and adjust my view. I see it now, though. I’m sorry I missed it before, Nene.

I see you now.


IMPORTANT!!! For anyone who preordered my newest book, I’m sorry. I had to cancel the preorder and unpublished it. Because I put a content warning on it about a rape (The rape is not graphically described. It is something that happens to one of the main characters) Amazon decided to classify it as erotica and they have refused to allow me to appeal the decision. The story is not erotic and I WILL NOT allow someone to place a rape (especially of a minor as the girl in the story is 13) into that category. This is something that happens to one in four women, we should be able to have discussion of it in stories and books without it being sexualized/fetishized. I will try again in the near future to get the book up without being labeled “erotic.” Thank you for your understanding.