Lily Writes

Two weeks out of state and now I’m home again.

It’s a long haul from Ithaca, New York back to Ann Arbor—eight to nine hours depending on traffic, construction, and how often you convince yourself you definitely need another coffee. I do most of the driving these days, and honestly? I enjoy it.

Music low. Tires humming. Miles rolling by.

It’s the perfect place for stories to take shape.

Music has always been part of how I write. A good song—especially one with a dramatic swell or a haunting remix—can send me straight into a scene. That emotional rise and fall? That’s romance. That’s exactly what I’m chasing on the page too.

There are moments in my books that are permanently tied to specific songs. Even now, when one of them pops up on Pandora, I’m instantly back there—inside the scene, watching it unfold like a movie in my head.

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Writing Update

Love Line is drafted and now resting quietly while I shift gears to the next book—the one that fully formed somewhere between Ithaca and home. Road trips are dangerous like that.

Love Drops is the story of Austen Reed and Shay Paris.

He signed up for his soulmate. She rejected him before they even met.

Austen Reed—bass player for Northern Lights—doesn’t do halfway. So when he joins Pink Match™, he’s all in. And when he’s matched instantly? Even better.

For three weeks, it’s perfect.
Late-night texts. Easy chemistry. Something real building between two strangers.

Until she tells him to find someone else.

No explanation.
No goodbye.
Not even her name.

Yeah… he’s not over it.

So when Austen lands in Pinkerton Falls, the last thing he expects is to wake up in a stranger’s bed—especially one belonging to sharp-tongued, irresistible Shay Paris.

She’s nothing like the woman he thought he wanted.
She’s chaos where he’s control.
Fire where he’s barely holding it together.

And the attraction?

Immediate. Intense. Impossible to ignore.

The more time they spend together, the harder it is to shake the feeling that something isn’t adding up…

Because Shay feels like fate.
Like home.

Like the match he was supposed to find all along.

But what happens when the truth comes out?

Behind the Scenes: The Writer’s Life

Here’s the thing—I don’t just work on one book at a time.

Especially in a series, I’m juggling multiple stories, multiple characters, multiple “what if” scenarios all at once. I keep a hardcover notebook with tabs for each book—about ten pages per story filled with handwritten notes, ideas, and little sparks that show up at inconvenient (or perfect) times.

The full outline lives in Word, usually open on my second screen while I write.

But the notebook? That’s where the magic starts.

It’s messy. Visual. A little chaotic.

I’ll sketch out character traits, physical details, random bits of dialogue. If a song fits, I draw a little music note next to it. If I find the right face—the one that makes me go there you are—I print it, clip it, save it.

Finding those images? That’s a whole adventure on its own. I’ve lost entire afternoons to that rabbit hole. Magazines, online searches, AI headshots… all in pursuit of that one image that clicks.

Because once I see them, really see them—the characters come alive.

I also collect everything else that builds their world: quotes, memes, snippets of dialogue, even nature photography if it fits the tone. And when I stumble across something perfect for a different story? That’s why the notebook has tabs. Nothing gets wasted.

It all goes somewhere.

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And yes… I build wardrobes.

Accessories. Watches. Shoes.

Scents.

I have absolutely spent over an hour in Ulta sniffing perfumes, trying to match a fragrance to a character. Then I go home and look up the notes so I can describe it properly later.

(No regrets.)

Right now, I’m a little obsessed with the men’s cologne Wanted. I’ll dab some on my wrist while I’m writing and suddenly the hero feels a lot closer.

Immersion matters.

Most of these details never make it onto the page—but they shape how I write the characters. They make each one distinct. Real. Different from the last.

By the time I hit Chapter One, I’m not staring at a blank page.

I’m stepping into a world that’s already alive.

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That drive back from Ithaca wasn’t just for plotting, though.

My partner and I passed the time trying to outdo each other with increasingly ridiculous bad first date scenarios—fuel for the Pink Matchmakers series.

“Wait, wait—I’ve got one…”

It turns into a game. A competition. A creative sprint at 70 miles an hour.

Honestly, it makes the drive fly by.

And now I’m wondering…

What if we did do that on a plane?

Would the people in our row be horrified?

…or would they join in?

Because really—free research from strangers?

Tempting. Very tempting.