For the soul who still believes in stories—
Come sit with me a while. Pour a glass of wine (or coffee, I won’t argue), and let me tell you a story. Not the kind written for pity, but the kind meant to remind you how strong we really are when life has done its worst.
Many women like me are told we are victims. And sometimes, it feels easier to believe it. But I never could. Even in the longest nights, even when I didn’t know what tomorrow might bring, I knew the story wasn’t finished. I refused to let my life end where someone else tried to break me.
That’s the heartbeat of Bones Beneath the Prairie. Yes, the book carries shadows: fear that stole my breath, silence that weighed heavy, betrayals that cut deep. But it also carries laughter, stubborn hope, and the wild idea that truth—once spoken—can set us free.
And here’s the part I can hardly wait for: holding the first copy in my hands. My best friend Kristi and I will fly to San Diego, where the books will be stored in a climate-controlled warehouse. We’ll fetch them like treasure, carry them back to the hotel, and spend the evening with wine and music, signing each one. Then we’ll wrap them carefully in navy kraft paper with peach satin ribbon, tuck in a thank-you note, and send them out into the world.
But before all that, I’ll pause. Just to touch the book. Just to hold it and know that after years of silence, sorrow, and stubborn hope—it exists. And yes, I might cry.
I wrote this book as a lantern. A story to be read for pleasure—something to laugh with, ache with, maybe whisper “me too”—and to close with a stubborn hope of your own.
✨ Bones Beneath the Prairie — Collector’s Editions are now available. ✨
📖 Signed hardcovers (20 remain) and paperbacks (48 remain) → bonesbeneaththeprairie.com/shop/
📖 eBook preorder special — $4.99 on Amazon
And if you’d like a weekly porch-side letter from me, personal and true, you can join here: bonesbeneaththeprairie.com/#newsletter
With gratitude and grace,
Roseann