It’s a toss-up between Red Lobster and Olive Garden; it honestly depends on what I’m craving. Red Lobster, it’s basically a done deal—I’m getting crab. I can look at the whole menu, pretend I’m considering something new, but who am I kidding. I love crab way too much. Do I hate cracking the shell? Absolutely. Do I still do it every single time? Also, absolutely. There’s just something about that sweet crab meat that makes the whole messy, slightly annoying process worth it for me.
But then there’s Olive Garden, and that’s a whole different mood. Their seafood Alfredo hits me right in my noodle‑loving soul. It’s creamy, comforting, and I don’t have to fight my food to enjoy it. If I’m craving pasta, that dish is basically my weakness. So really, the choice isn’t even about the restaurant, it’s about whether I’m in the mood to roll up my sleeves and battle a crab or sit back with a big bowl of noodles and just melt into the moment.
Diversity Month is a chance to acknowledge the significance of different cultures, identities, backgrounds, and perspectives in our communities. It’s a moment to pause and appreciate the stories, traditions, and lived experiences that shape who we are—individually and collectively. When we focus on diversity, we’re not just acknowledging differences; we’re respecting the strength that comes from supporting them. This month encourages us to learn from one another, challenge assumptions, and create spaces where everyone feels seen and valued.
Symbol of diversity through nature. Flowers thriving in soil, water, and stone, each environment representing different backgrounds and experiences. A poetic way to show that growth and beauty can emerge under any conditions.
One of the most valuable lessons I wish I had learned earlier in life is the importance of letting go of strangers’ opinions. For a long time, I allowed the judgments of people I barely knew or didn’t care about to occupy space in my mind. I let their opinions shape how I saw myself. But the moment I realized that these individuals held no meaningful place in my life, everything began to shift.
Their opinions lost their power. I stopped giving them permission to affect my mood, my confidence, or my choices. Life became noticeably lighter and less stressful when I understood that not every voice deserves an audience, especially those that come from people who don’t truly know me or contribute anything positive to my journey. Now, I protect my mental space fiercely, reserving it only for those whose presence and perspective genuinely matter.
In 2015 Siren Bookstrand took a chance and published my first ever novella, Leopard Born, thus the Born of Isis series had begun. Now the final novella, Puma Born, has been written and published.
It took time to write the final chapter because this was more than the end of a series. It was saying goodbye to friends that had been with you constantly over the years. There’s a unique kind of ache that comes with finishing a story you’ve lived alongside for years. It’s not just typing “The End.” It’s closing the door on characters who became part of your daily mental landscape, people you argued with, rooted for, worried about, and carried around in the back of your mind while doing dishes or driving to work.
Writing that final chapter is a kind of mourning. You’re not just wrapping up plot threads; you’re saying goodbye to companions who influenced you, challenged you, and maybe even helped you through parts of your own life. That emotional weight slows you down in the best possible way because you want to honor them, and you want to leave them in a place that feels right.
And honestly, that’s a sign of how deeply you cared about the world you built. Stories that linger like that don’t come from detachment; they come from connection.
For me, destiny feels like something I can grow toward rather than something that drags me along. It’s a sense of purpose that develops when I make choices, take risks, and follow what feels right in my gut. I like the idea that my life isn’t locked into one rigid path, but instead shaped by my decisions, effort, and the meaning I create along the way. Destiny gives me room to evolve, to change direction, and to become the person I want to be.
Fate, on the other hand, has never really resonated with me. The idea of something fixed and unavoidable, something I can’t change no matter how hard I try, feels too confining, a trap I can’t avoid. I don’t want to believe my life is already written. I’d rather believe I am an active member, not just a character following a script. That’s why destiny makes more sense to me. It gives me freedom while still giving my life a sense of direction and meaning.
I live in what feels like the driest state in North America. Maybe it’s not, technically but the sun scorches like it’s trying to prove a point. Yet beneath the dust and heat, my community blooms with cultural richness. You’ll find Navajo jewelry sold beside Mexican pan dulce, powwow drums echoing near quinceañera halls, and murals that blend desert mythology with urban grit. It’s not paradise there’s still bigotry, racism, and misogyny here. But in my small corner, I see love defying boundaries, writing inspiration especially in romance.
Desert Romance with the golden sunsets, tense monsoons, and vast open skies. Small-Town trope often used in the romance genre. The quaint towns like Jerome and Bisbee. Sedona offers mysterious settings for paranormal or romantasy tales. Also, Sedona is famous for its “vortexes”, energy centers believed to enhance meditation and creativity make it a hotspot for mystical themes and magical realism. Arizona has some of the clearest skies in the country ideal for romantic stargazing scenes or magical rendezvous.
It is rich with Indigenous mythologies from Hopi, Navajo, and Apache cultures. The spirit beings, shape-shifters, and sacred landscapes is perfect for weaving into fantasy or paranormal plots.The Ancient Sites like Montezuma Castle and Canyon de Chelly is saturated in mystery and ancestral power, presenting real-world links for myth-inspired storytelling. The Grand Canyon, Antelope Canyon, and Horseshoe Bend are not just stunning, they’re virtually storyboard-ready.
Events like Día de los Muertos celebrations and powwows provide rich visual and emotional material for character outline and world-building. The desert can represent isolation, transformation, or resilience the ideal metaphors for character arcs. Creatures like coyotes, hawks, and snakes carry symbolic weight and can be woven into magical or mythic narratives. Monsoon storms, blooming desert wildflowers, and fiery sunsets pose dynamic settings for emotional turning points.
The blend of Hispanic, Indigenous, and Western traditions creates a rich tapestry for exploring identity, heritage, and cross-cultural romance. The Old West meets ancient civilizations is ideal for time travel romances, reincarnation themes, or ancestral quests. Adobe homes, mission churches, and petroglyphs add texture and authenticity to visual and written storytelling.
Cooking soup is my favorite kind of kitchen ritual because it is grounded in comfort. I love that soup begins simply and becomes something expressive. A handful of ingredients, a bit of heat, and time to develop that quiet conversion feels deeply satisfying to me. Soup lets me improvise, adjust, and follow my instincts rather than strict rules, and I enjoy the freedom to build flavor in a way that’s both relaxed and intentional.
It’s a dish meant to be shared, something that warms people and brings them together. Cooking it allows me to take ordinary ingredients and turn them into nourishment, both for myself and for others. In many ways, soup represents the kind of presence I try to bring to my life: adaptable, comforting, and made with care.
Deloris Nash 