Cari Anderson's world spirals out of control as she struggles to heal wounds that could break the strongest person. Several losses have left her desperate and vulnerable. The only recourse she can find is at the bottom of a bottle and in the arms of her brother's best friend. That fateful decision leads to a string of other devastating decisions and soon Cari finds herself fleeing the place she called home, in search of something that can numb her pain. With so much already on the line, including her relationship with her brother, Cari tries to lick her wounds and move forward, but life doesn't make it easy for her and before she has a chance to recover, a horrible accident leads to accusations and more strain on her personal life than she may be capable of bouncing back from. Forced to confront her own demons, Cari must muster up the courage and the strength to right so many wrongs in her life, including finding the strength to heal and love again.
About the Author: Lana has been writing stories for as long as she can remember. Knowing herself quite well, she wagers she told stories before she could even write. In those stories her brother was always the troublemaker and she was the innocent tagalong. She's eternally grateful to her older brother for providing so many opportunities to tell stories to their parents about her innocence. A love of reading was instilled early by her parents and when she ran out of reading material in her childhood home, she started writing her own stories. As an elementary school student, she even wrote a short story on the back of a tissue box while trapped in the car on a family road trip. She can't remember the entire story, but it involved her pet frog, Garfunkel, who had escaped his tank, stealing a car to go for a drive because he was upset with his roommate, Garfield. She really should apologize to her high school English teachers. They'd give a serious writing assignment, like a childhood memory, and she'd use it as an opportunity to make up stories about her family. She was often referred to as creative by those teachers who didn't want to come right out and call her a liar. But there were a few who were willing to bluntly call her a liar, as well. Lana writes from her home office, overlooking a lake in Northern Wisconsin, when she's not busy wrangling children, prying cats off the curtain rods, or playing the Revolving Door Game with her two large, slobbery dogs. (They think it's a game, she thinks they're trying to drive her insane.)