I am passionate about deconstructing the kind of love that leaves a mark—the kind that’s polarizing, complicated, and sometimes impossible to walk away from. I know that for so many of us, love isn't a straight line; it’s a circle that keeps bringing us back to the same difficult, beautiful truths.

But then, there’s the other side.

The side involving sun-drenched chaos, too much Malbec, and the hilarious absurdity of trying to "manufacture belief" in romance when we’ve been burned. My stories come from the late-night phone calls with girlfriends—the ones where we whisper the things we aren't "supposed" to say. The messy secrets. The "I shouldn't want him, but I do" moments. The "I don't believe in love, but I’m terrified I might find it" fears.

My brand isn't a polished diamond. It’s a Polaroid. It’s a little overexposed, maybe a bit blurry around the edges, but it’s real. Whether I’m taking you to the moody streets of a memory or the vibrant, chaotic cafes of Buenos Aires, I promise you three things:

1. It will be authentic. No "easy" exits or hollow tropes.

2. It will be humorous. Because if we aren't laughing at the disaster, we’re doing it wrong.

3. It will be messy. Because love—real, heart-pounding, terrifying love—never stays inside the lines. I don’t write "Happily Ever Afters." I write "Messy Ever Afters." 

So, grab a glass, pull up a chair, and let’s talk about the things no one else is brave enough to say.