Skip to content
  • Home
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • My Books
  • Shop
  • Events/Signings
Search

Contact

If you have any direct questions, feel free to send an email to a.d.mccammon@outlook.com. You can also connect with me on social media, links posted below.

Facebook

Reader Group

Twitter

Instagram

Goodreads

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,331 other followers

Like my Facebook Page

Like my Facebook Page

Newsletter

Subscribe here

Follow me on Twitter

My Tweets

Instagram

@amymatayo.author wants to know what lies you tell yourself. These are mine, aka excuses I use for not going after the things I want out of life. What lies do you tell yourself? Head over to @amymatayo.author ‘s profile to check out the #giveaway for her upcoming release Lies We Tell Ourselves.
I have a book to write, and a deadline steadily approaching. But this little dude spent all morning begging me to watch a movie with him. The day will come when he doesn’t want to snuggle and watch movies with me anymore. I’m going to soak it up while I still can. #priorities #mommasboy
Took this dude to Target for some new shoes. Ended up leaving with all these Halloween goodies. It’s official, we have the same heart. 🧡🎃🖤
My girl 💜 #shegetsitfromhermama
Date night(ish) with my love. 💜
Take some time to appreciate the beauty around you. #tennessee #rollinghills #sunset
When I was a little girl, I had a bad habit of picking at my scabs. There was something so satisfying about peeling back that dry patch of skin from my flesh then watching it as the open wound filled with pus and began the healing process again. My mother would fuss at me, saying that my picking was going to cause scarring. She was right, of course. I have several scars on my knees where I’d scraped them from falling off my bike and refused to leave them alone. But I was convinced it was necessary for the healing process. I’ve carried that belief with me into adulthood, only now those scabs are more of the emotional variety. I’m always scratching at old wounds, one in particular. It’s my way of checking to see if the wound still bleeds. Only when it stops bleeding will I know it’s healed. As I stare at a picture of Paul looking lovingly at his daughter, tears streaming down my face, I wonder if it will ever stop hurting. It’s been seventeen years, you would think I would be over it by now. What is an appropriate amount of time to get over something that completely changed you? Is it even possible? Perhaps some wounds aren’t meant to heal, remaining to serve as a reminder of the things we’ve survived. I’d like to think that those scars are proof of our strengths, not our weaknesses. ➡️ Link in bio ➡️
Is he not the cutest? #wewillrockyou #freddiemercury #queen
My daily reminder to #justbreathe courtesy of @writemewicked 💜
My in-flight entertainment on my way home from Denver. #lightening
#Denver
@griffinpete at #bookbonanza18
Blog at WordPress.com.