Sound arrived — and it arrived as impact.

A singular musical force entered my world without warning — loud, unapologetic, impossible to ignore. It didn't reopen a door. It hit it. One song was enough. One feral guitar line. One timeless voice. One refusal to soften the edges.

That sound was Mirador.

Every manuscript I've written exists because of what their music unlocked. These books are shaped by restraint, by longing, and by the space between notes where meaning lives.

This is the room where the writing begins. Pull up a chair. Press play.

— Sheridan Laine