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I've got a new book for you.

Or...rather...a new book has me. 

You see, a long time ago I was traveling in Colorado, in a bookstore, going through the racks, and this was before I'd ever published anything --

And I found what was clearly a journal.  

I mean -- there were like scribbles in it and everything. 

So -- I'm nosy, I can't help it -- I read a few pages. 

And the stuff inside? 

Was pretty un-fuckin'-believable. 

Because, like -- who just leaves their murder-diary out, and hanging around? 

So I look around.

Am I being punked? 

This was like before the internet was quite such a huge thing, before...Instagram? Probably? 2010? 

But I don't see anyone watching me -- and it doesn't have a bar code on it, right? So....

I stole it. 

I mean, I think I did -- you don't just lose a journal in a bookstore, behind a bunch of other books now, do you? 

Someone had to have put it there on purpose, and left it behind.

And at the time I didn't really know why? 

Then when I read it, everything started making sense. I was pretty happy to be in the air and leaving the state, already, to be honest.

Because whoever wrote that journal?

They were Not Right. 

Oh my God -- so very, very, Not Right. 

Fast forward to today -- 

I think I may have made a bad decision. 

Because a few months ago I was doing one of those 'declutter your life!' things, where you pretend you're Marie Kondo for 48 hours and then give up, and....

I found the journal at the back of my office closet and I sat down and read it again and...

God help me, I decided to publish the thing. (But don't go looking for it yet. There's a reason I'm not linking to it here with a button. Hang on.) 

First -- I want you to know that I really did try to find who owned it. 

I did what the book said not to do, I googled names, and I found one person who mighhhhhhttttt have written it, like based on the location and the time frame and I emailed them!

But they didn't email me back, and I don't know -- sometimes I do stupid stuff. 

Doesn't every one? 

I think my exact thoughts were "Ehhhhh....no one will ever know. Fuck it." 

I'm not proud of that, mind you, right? Okay? 

I just...I don't know. Something came over me. 

And now? 

It's too late. 

Because after I committed to publishing it? And dropped several thou on an audiobook narration? 

She really did email me back.

I think.

I mean -- I don't know, how can I tell if it's really her, you know, right? She never got caught, as far as I can tell.

But I'm getting weird pictures like these past two in my inbox. Every day now. 

Annnnnnd....yeah. 

I'm a little "concerned". 

I haven't told my husband yet, because I don't want him to worry -- he works from home -- and my cats are indoors cats, so I know they're safe and all...but shit's weird, yo. 

So -- don't buy that book -- like, not in a reverse psychology 'haha, this is an author telling you to not buy a book' way, or like a 'don't steal this book thing' (which, perhaps, is a lesson you should actually listen to).

But because Amazon's emailing people who've read my books prior to tell them about it -- and I realized I can't help those people. 

But you? You're on this list. You trusted me.

So, please, hold off. 

Until I tell you its safe. 

Hopefully in a few days? 

xo,

me.