“The turquoise waters lulled; my reflection stilled. The skin under my eyes was dark as sin, muscles strained to smile, lips dull and ashen.”— Eradena, The Cord Between Two Queens (Book I), Chapter 1

When I wrote those lines, I was thinking of my former modeling days — when I’d sit in a makeup chair, heart pounding under “perfect” skin. Or when I’d step onto a runway in my late teens and early twenties, wearing confidence like a costume and lipstick named Prestige like battle armor.

Makeup was my war paint.
Not for beauty —but for survival.

To pretend I wasn’t scared.
To pretend I wasn’t exhausted.
To pretend I wasn’t breaking under the weight of being “enough.”

I didn’t want people to see the loneliness under the gloss…or the fear that if they did, they’d turn away.

And yet — here’s the truth I wrote into Eradena’s bones:

Presence is more powerful than perfection.
Showing up is more powerful than pretending.

So today, I’m asking you — my Wielder Walkers, my story family —

Let’s stop hiding.

Let’s stop armoring up with “I’m fine.”
Let’s stop mistaking polish for power.

Show up messy.
Show up real.
Show up brave in your rawness.

If Eradena can face kingdoms and ghosts and the crushing weight of destiny, we can face a world that sometimes expects flawless faces and flawless lives.

Because we are building something different here. A community that celebrates courage, not cosmetics.

Truth, not performance.
Presence over prestige — every single time.

So here’s your call to arms:

Reply to this email and finish this sentence:

“When I take off my armor, what I really want is ______.”

Let’s see each other.
Really see each other.
No war paint. No filter. No apology.

Because power doesn’t come from pretending.
It comes from standing in the truth of who we are — together.

Eradena’s Lesson on Pain, Power, and Connection

I can’t write what I don’t know.

Every chapter I’ve written is stitched from something real — a memory, a wound, a quiet ache, a prayer I never said out loud. Some are pieces of my own story. Others are gifts to friends and family who’ve walked through heartbreak, loss, betrayal, and the kind of despair that makes the world feel very small and very dark.

Each chapter, in its own way, is a letter:

“I hear you.
I see you.
You’re not alone.”

We all carry our own catalog of pain, grief that lingers, shame that whispers, moments that marked us so deeply they still echo. It’s easy to believe those moments ruined something in us. That they disqualified us. That if we’d been stronger, wiser, better, we wouldn’t hurt the way we do.

But here’s the quiet truth I keep writing toward, and the lesson Eradena begins to learn:

What if the things that broke us are also the things that make us better at loving others?

What if every painful experience becomes a language that allows us to recognize hurt in someone else’s eyes… and respond with something gentler than judgment?

What if your story, instead of being something to hide, is the bridge someone else will someday need?

Eradena’s journey is not just about power, duty, or destiny. It’s about this:
Learning that her scars are not liabilities. They are blueprints for connection.
Without them, she might never understand the people she is called to protect.

And the same might be true for you.

So I want to gently challenge you:

• Is there a part of your story you’ve only seen as damage… that might actually be preparation?

• Is there a moment you’ve tried to erase that could become empathy for someone standing where you once stood?

• Is there someone in your life right now who needs your, “I’ve been there. You’re not alone”?

Your pain is real.
So is your power.

“...markers wash away every rainy season. Trees fall and change the turf, time takes its toll, and tribes toil…”

When I wrote that line into King Derreck’s dialogue to Eradena up on Twin Peaks in Chapter 1, I remember shaking my head as the plot twists tangled in my mind. Despair had its grip on me, and I could only land on one truth:
History repeats itself.

In this endless hamster wheel of human behavior, we keep forgetting what we already know.

And for a heartbeat, I felt helpless.

But then, hope whispered back.

When Sister Eliora spoke her prophecy to Eradena in Chapter 12, “A Kingdom that has not yet come…”, something inside me shifted. Hope broke through like tulip heads pushing past cold dirt, defying frost at the end of winter.

That’s what The Cord Between Two Queens is truly about: Hope, stitched through despair. A woman who should have none, yet still rises to claim everything, or lose it all if she chooses to surrender.

Chapter 14 carries that weight for me personally. I wrote it while grieving the loss of my Auntie Rose, whose life still moves quietly through mine.

Grief gave Eradena her beginning.
But grief also gave her life.

Consider this concept, my dearest Wielder Walker:
Death in the X-Wielder Realm has no claim on life.

The Soundtrack of Shadowlight

Ever wondered what I was listening to while writing through Malachi and Eradena’s tangled hearts?

Well, my dear Wielder Walker, I’ve got you covered. Here’s the entire playlist that kept me company on Spotify. ✨

There’s just something about instrumental music at dawn, when the world is still dreaming, and the tea hasn’t decided whether to save or betray me. Just after sunrise, my imagination comes alive. The music opens the door, and the story steps through like mist.

But after 5 p.m.? Oh, it’s a different kind of magic entirely.

🕔 At sunrise writing sounds like:

“The sky bled crimson.”

🕕 At sundown writing sounds like:

“The sky is… red.” (Send help.)

So, if you want to step inside my writing cocoon, the early morning soundscape where the X-Wielder Realm comes alive, you can find it all here:
🎧 [Listen to the Writing Playlist on Spotify]

ALSO…Want to know what I’m reading next?

Click this link for more info!

Until the next sunrise session, my Wielder Walker.

With love and shadowlight in this new year,
💋 RoBé

The Two Times I Ugly Cried Into A Pillow

There are two times I’ve absolutely sobbed into a pillow during this adventure I call writing.

Incident #1:
When I submitted the first draft of The Cord Between Two Queens (Book I) to my editor and got it back looking like a crime scene of red comments.
Over 1,000 notes.
Every. Single. Page.
I cried for three days straight and then spent four more days patching my ego together with caffeine and delusion.

Incident #2:
Launch week.
The dopamine was dopamin-ing.
I watched my Amazon rank climb, my name hit a Top 10 list, and my serotonin levels did a backflip.
I was on cloud nine.
Then, a week later… BOOM. Numbers dropped. Mood dropped. Self-esteem packed its bags and moved to the basement.

Imperfection became my sword and somehow, I was the one bleeding.

But here’s why I’m telling you this (besides the fact that I clearly have no chill):

Somewhere in the middle of that beautiful mess, I realized something.

Gratitude is a choice.
And sometimes, it’s the only thing that keeps you from eating your feelings and rage-refreshing your sales dashboard.

When I finally processed all those big feelings, I remembered—I am surrounded by incredible people.

People who showed up.
Who believed.
Who rallied.

And that includes you.

So from the bottom of my overly caffeinated heart:
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for reminding me that success isn’t just in the numbers—
It’s in the connection.

And speaking of connection, I was able to connect with an author named Gwyneth Lesley. Her book “Odette’s Vow” is what I’m reading now! If you’re interested, click this link for more info!

With love, laughter, and a side of shadow light,
💋 The Real RoBé

The Real RoBé

I write fantasy with sex, slaughter, and a splash of spiritual warfare—basically, foreplay with swords. My worlds are packed with tension, betrayal, and enough slow burns to set kingdoms on fire. Expect enemies-to-lovers, love triangles, forced proximity, deadly trials, and the kind of sexy tension that feels like war.

When I’m not torturing fictional characters, I’m wrangling a kid, a husband, two Mini Aussies, and a pair of beta fish who judge me daily. I love drinking high tea, but only if I can spike it.

Photography by: ERC Photography LLC (Evie Richards-Cashman)