About the Author
If there's one title I'm proudest to carry, it's Dad.
Being a father to my amazing daughter has been the greatest blessing and joy of my life. She has taught me more about love, patience, laughter, and what truly matters than anything else ever could. She inspires me every day to be a better person, and more than anything I've ever written, she's the greatest gift in my life.
I grew up in Ogden, Utah, and have always been fascinated by the moments that quietly change a person's life—the conversations we never forget, the sacrifices no one else sees, and the ordinary acts of love that end up meaning everything. Those are the stories I love to tell.
When I'm not writing, you'll probably find me listening to 80s music (which I firmly believe makes almost everything better), spending time with family, or enjoying stories that spark my imagination. I'm a lifelong tennis fan and have always been drawn to creative people who do things a little differently—from the imaginative world of The Nightmare Before Christmas to the unforgettable humor of Adam Sandler, Kevin Smith, and Trey Parker. They all remind me that great storytelling doesn't have to fit neatly into one genre—it simply has to make people feel something.
I'm always looking for my next creative adventure. Whether it's writing novels, comedy skits, poems, or chasing an idea that refuses to leave me alone, I love creating stories that make people laugh, think, and feel something genuine. I believe the very best stories don't just entertain us—they stay with us long after they're over.
At the end of the day, my hope is simple. I want my stories to make people feel something real. To laugh a little, cry when they least expect it, reflect on the people they love, and close the final page just a little different than when they opened the first. The best stories stay with us long after they're over, and if one of mine does that for someone, I'll consider myself incredibly fortunate.
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you find a story here that stays with you—not because you finished it, but because it made you feel something worth remembering.