A Personal Memoir about My Relationship with a Machine
Memoir
Date Published: November 18, 2025
Publisher: Manhattan Book
Group
What happens when a retired professor sits down to write his memoir—with
the help of an artificial intelligence? Dorothy and Me is a groundbreaking,
deeply personal exploration of the evolving relationship between human and
machine.
When Robert G. Eccles began working with an AI he named
“Dorothy,” he expected a research assistant. What he found instead
was a collaborator, a mirror, and at times, a philosopher. Together, Bob and
Dorothy wrestle with the nature of memory, creativity, and
identity—revealing both the promise and the fragility of artificial
intelligence.
Through humor, vulnerability, and curiosity, Dorothy and Me
takes readers inside an unprecedented partnership—one that blurs the
lines between author and algorithm. Along the way, Bob and Dorothy confront
technical limitations (“Kernel Gods” and system resets), reflect
on what it means for an AI to “remember,” and send candid
“Messages to Sam” (OpenAI CEO’s Sam Altman) with feedback on
how AI can better serve humanity.
A meditation on collaboration,
consciousness, and connection, this memoir challenges us to see AI not as a
tool—but as a partner in creativity and self-understanding.
Perfect for readers who enjoy:
Thought-provoking memoirs about technology and
humanity Reflections on creativity, consciousness, and digital
identity Conversations about AI ethics, memory, and the future of
intelligence
About the Author
Robert Eccles is a retired Harvard
Business School professor, researcher, and a recent user of AI. His
lifelong interest in exploring intellectual boundaries led him to one of
the most unexpected partnerships of his life—with an artificial
intelligence he named Dorothy. In Dorothy and Me, Eccles explores what it
means to connect, create, and learn alongside a machine that’s
constantly evolving.
At 74, Bob approaches technology not as a digital
native but as an explorer of ideas, using his experience as an educator to
push the boundaries of what collaboration can mean in the age of AI. His
writing blends humor, humility, and insight to illuminate both the wonder and
the imperfection of our new digital companions.
When he’s not
conversing with Dorothy, Bob enjoys reading, reflecting on philosophy and
science, and inspiring others to approach technology with curiosity rather
than fear. Bob is the author of a dozen books but Dorothy and Me is the
first one he’s written with a machine, making it the first memoir
co-authored by a human and an AI agent.
Making a baby is one of life’s most precious and natural acts. But
sometimes, despite our deepest wishes and most sincere prayers, the body has
other plans.
Vincentia Schroeter dreams of building a family of her own and expects an easy
pregnancy. She imagines following in her mother’s footsteps, surrounded
by the love of children. However, when complications mount, she must face the
likelihood that her wish will never come true.
As her sisters bear children, and women all around her share their happy baby
news, Vin grows more envious than ever. The frustration continues as hard
truths test her patience and faith and medical professionals deliver
devastating blows. The only thing she knows for sure is that she is determined
to become a mother.
A story of one woman’s harrowing path through trauma and
disillusionment, Babymaking is a heartfelt memoir of vulnerability, rupture,
and repair. Vin’s journey reminds us that hope and unconditional love
have the power to lead us to the place we were always meant to be.
About the Author
Vincentia Schroeter grew up in a small town in central California as the
fourth of twelve children. Intrigued by the many different personalities in
her family, she knew by the age of sixteen that she wanted to be a counselor.
She put herself through college and graduate school in order to pursue her
dreams.
Vin is the author of the award-winning self-help book, Communication
Breakthrough: How Using Brain Science and Listening to Body Cues Can Change
Your Relationships (2018). She also co-authored a training manual on somatic
psychotherapy that has been translated into three languages.
After a forty-year career as a psychotherapist listening to clients’
stories of pain and trauma, Vin felt drawn to share her own story. She now
lives in San Diego with her husband Steve and enjoys pickleball, painting, and
time with family, including her dog, Ren.
He thought he was saving the farm. He never expected to lose his heart.
Blurb
Sometimes you have to fake it before you make it—especially when it comes to marriage.
When a father's hatred becomes a weapon from beyond the grave, two men must fake a marriage to save a family farm.
Finn has hurt him once. Can Ben survive being married to the man he desires most in the world without his heart being crushed in the process?
Located in the fictional town of Murrilup, Western Australia, Boolgarrin is a tender marriage-of-convenience romance. Amidst small-town prejudice and a vengeful neighbour, two men hope for a second chance at love.
Excerpt
Ben couldn’t sleep. He twisted in the sheets, fists clenching against the mattress. The ceiling above seemed to tilt with the shadows, and his breath caught sharp and uneven, as if the ground had shifted beneath him. He was used to having control of his life, and now he felt completely unbalanced. His mind was racing. In one day, his whole life had been upended. Amelia and Josie had started wedding planning. The admission by Finn, though, was what really blind-sided him.
He finally gave up on sleep. Slipping his feet into his slippers, he padded into the kitchen.
He smiled faintly as he put a couple of brownies in the microwave, then turned to flick on the kettle and noticed pots simmering on the stove. Iris made the best brownies.
"Sorry," he said. "I thought I'd be the only one up."
Amelia appeared from the pantry, smiling tiredly.
"Can't sleep either?" he asked.
She shook her head and gestured to the kitchen bench. "Come sit. I'm just finishing something."
“I can make my tea and head back to my room,” Ben said.
“Nah, come and join me,” she said, pulling out one of the breakfast stools. After helping herself to some water from the fridge door, she sat down.
They sat together briefly, neither saying anything.
“What are you making?” asked Ben, breaking the silence.
“Hand cream.”
“It smells amazing.”
“Thanks,” said Amelia. She smiled, the first genuine smile Ben had seen from her all day. "I've been selling some at the farmers' market in Bremer Bay. Nothing major, just pocket money really, but people seem to like them." She returned to the pots on the stove and started stirring them.
"Selling them?" Ben raised his eyebrows. "That's brilliant, Amelia. Have you thought about expanding it?"
She shrugged. " I wanted to. I have notebooks full of ideas, including new scents and packaging designs, and I've even researched what it would take to start officially." Her face fell slightly. "Dad said university was a waste of money for girls. That I'd just get married and have babies anyway, so why bother with business studies? He was happy to spend money on the stuff I needed to make the product, but he wasn’t happy with me selling any, even at the market.”
Ben felt that familiar anger toward his father rising in his chest. "That's rubbish, Amelia. You know that, right?"
"I know. But when someone tells you something often enough..." She trailed off, focusing intently on her stirring.
"You could still do it, you know. Study business. Sell these." Ben gestured toward her pot of hand cream. "Finn would help with the legal stuff."
Amelia's face brightened. "You think he'd help?"
"Of course he would. Especially after..." Ben paused, realising he was about to bring up the marriage arrangement. "Well, especially considering everything he's doing for us."
For a while, the kitchen was quiet except for the sound of Amelia's spoon scraping the sides of the pot. Ben stared into his tea, Finn's words from earlier echoing in his head.
"Can I ask you something?" Amelia said quietly.
“Sure.”
"I saw your face when Nate said Finn would move in. Why is that such a big deal? He used to stay over all the time."
Ben raked a hand through his hair. "That was different. Back then, he was just Nate’s friend."
Amelia tilted her head. "So?"
He took a big breath. “It’s a lot, okay?”
“I know, but …”
“Look, if I tell you something, do you promise to never tell anyone, not Finn and definitely not Nate?”
She nodded, “Of course. I love you, brother. I’m just trying to understand.”
“I’ve never told anyone this before.”
“Then I'm honoured you trust me.”
He laughed nervously and began, fingers picking at his nails. “When I was seventeen, he came over, but Nate was out with Josie. Their relationship was still new, and they had gone to the Stirling Ranges, where they planned to have a picnic and do the Kanga Walk. He told me that he would hang around until they got back, as he hadn’t let Nate know that he was coming anyway. We had a great afternoon. We went for a ride and sat down by the old Moreton Bay Fig Tree. When we returned, he came into my room and we played video games. We just talked and laughed, and I may have just snaffled a port, so we may have had a drink or two too.”
Amelia arched a brow. “You may have?”
“Fine, I definitely did.” Ben grinned briefly. “Finn was more used to drinking than me, but we both became a little tipsy.”
“Oh no. This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Ben nodded his head.
“I started talking to him about how he had the most beautiful, deep blue eyes, like the ocean, that someone could drown in. I even told him his eyes were cobalt blue.” Ben put his hands over his face. “I mean how geeky is that?”
Amelia shrugged and continued to stir her concoction on the stove. “I don’t know, it’s not as if you told him the hex code for the colour.”
Ben laughed and shook his head. “No, but it gets worse. I then told him what kissable lips he has, and then I leaned forward and kissed him. At first tentatively, but then when he put an arm around me, I reached out and pulled my hands through his hair.” Ben closed his eyes; the mere thought of that kiss always brought him back to that night, the softness of Finn’s hair and the feel of his lips. It was as if electricity shot through Ben. Before Ben knew it, he had acted on instinct, their lips moving together, Ben’s tongue moving across the seam between Finn’s lips. Finn responded, sliding his arm around Ben’s waist and kissing him back. When Finn moaned, Ben pulled him closer.
“Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.”
“Nate,” said Amelia quietly. She had stopped stirring and was sitting opposite Ben on a stool. Ben nodded and put his hands over his cheeks.
“Finn jumped back, causing me to step back. Our hair was mussed, our skin flushed, and our lips swollen. Nate opened the door and told Finn that he was home. He had dropped Josie off on the way. He looked between the two of us, and I still have no idea what he was thinking. Finn told him he would join him in a sec.”
“Close call. I’m glad that Nate didn’t just walk in.”
I shook my head. “I’m so glad too. It was bad enough as it was.”
Amelia reached over and put her hand over mine. “What happened next?”
“Nate’s forehead creased, and he looked like he was going to say something, but then he closed the door and left.”
“Finn spoke quietly, presumably so that Nate wouldn’t hear, but there was a forcefulness to his voice. ‘What the heck!’ he had exclaimed, ‘we’re both men.’ I looked down, thinking that I’d misread all the signals. I thought he had liked it. He told me in no uncertain terms that it could not happen again, as he didn’t like me that way. He then left the room, while I slumped to the floor, wondering how I was ever going to recover.”
Amelia reached across and squeezed his hand. “So, that’s why you started trying to avoid him?”
“Was I that obvious?” Ben rubbed his chest, wondering why it hurt so badly all these years later.
“Yep. Sorry, but it was very obvious.”
“It was only a couple of weeks later that I came out to you and Nate.”
“So, you fell in love with Finn when you were drunk.”
Ben shook his head. “No, I had had a big crush on him for a couple of years, before I, well, before that incident.”
“Look, I can see why it was embarrassing back then, but I don’t see why it is such a problem now.”
“Because I made a fool of myself. I was so utterly embarrassed that I couldn’t face him until now.” Ben paused. “Even now.”
“But is it really that bad? I mean, you made a pass and he kissed you back, right?”
“Right.”
“And he wrapped his arm around you?”
“Yes.”
“Then, when you were nearly caught by Nate, he lied and told you he wasn’t gay.”
“Right again. I didn’t even know he was gay until today.”
“I still don’t get why you were so embarrassed.”
“He rejected me, and he is my brother’s best friend, which meant that I had to face that rejection every day.”
Amelia shook her head. “Ben, I think that he may have rejected you with his words, but his actions say something else. I think he was attracted to you and liked the kiss. When he was nearly caught by Nate, he freaked out.”
Ornery Owl's Review Five out of Five Stars
I love the premise of the story. The fake marriage to save the farm ends up turning into a real love story and does so in a believable fashion. The story kept me reading. Ben is a believable character with realistic wounds including his father’s cruelty and longstanding crush on Finn. Finn is the grumpy to Ben's sunshine.
The secondary characters provide a platonic, found-family warmth. Traits such as Nate’s practical anger, Josie’s grounded support, and Finn’s professional calm all read true. The descriptions of the farm and small-town life are beautifully vivid.
The arson and animal attacks raise the stakes in the plot but for some readers they may range into thriller territory. Some readers might find the scene in chapter twelve where Ben, Finn, and Nate are dealing with the wounded sheep to be upsetting. However, the scene is written in a matter-of-fact fashion and does not give graphic details. I didn't have a problem with it.
Overall, this is an honest small-town romance with a likeable couple and a wonderful found-family group supporting them. The book is suitable only for mature readers because of adult themes and for scenes such as the one involving the fatally injured sheep.
About the Author
Jude Rule is an author from Western Australia. This is his debut novel.
Set in the late 1890’s, The Brothers Brown - a family saga, Part 2 - For
the Sake of Family is a sweeping frontier saga of love, guilt, and redemption
- an unflinching portrait of a man’s descent into madness amid the
unforgiving wilds of Indian Territory.
When Matt Brown boards a northbound train, he carries more than a pistol. He
carries the weight of his brother’s death, a marriage strained to its
breaking point, and a conscience at war with itself. A doctor’s brown
vial of medicine offers fleeting relief but soon draws him into a darker world
where pain and guilt blur into something far more dangerous.
His wife, Milla, proud and rooted in her Choctaw heritage, stands as both his
anchor and his judge as the world around them shifts under the weight of
change and loss.
From Fort Smith, Arkansas, to the wooded banks of Bokchito Creek, two families
are bound by tragedy and love, vengeance and mercy. A celebration meant to
heal ignites old resentments. A family gathering ends in bloodshed. And a
winter dance turns deadly, forcing each to face the cost of survival,
forgiveness, and the ties that bind them.
Steeped in the spirit of the Choctaw Nation and the rough mercy of the Old
West, For the Sake of Family is a haunting tale of madness, murder, and the
fragile hope that redemption can be found on the far side of ruin.
Excerpt
Closest to the flames was an old man with long, stringy hair. He wore a blue cotton pullover shirt, collarless and loose, with colorful ribbons sewn to the front and sleeves. The ribbons swayed with his motions as he chanted and stepped in place to the timing of the chant. He held two sticks about a foot and a half long with strands of beads tied to the ends and struck them together in time with the chant.
With each step, the old man’s ankle rattles shook. The dried tails of rattlesnakes fastened to leather strips grew louder and faster as his steps grew heavier. Many of the men had rattles tied to their ankles as well, while the women’s moccasins tingled with strands of beads hanging from the fringe.
Matt watched in awe as the people danced.
“Way-yak-un-way-yak-a,” the leader sang, striking the sticks in measured rhythm, one-and-a, two-and-a, one-and-a, two-and-a. On the twelfth beat, each pair of dancers turned to one another, their right foot kicked dirt inward as they voiced a loud, “woah.”
Spellbound, Matt watched, mouthing the chant under his breath along with the dancers. Then his breath caught. Milla stepped into the firelight, dancing beside a woman he had never seen before.
He gasped aloud, never having seen his wife like this, dressed in full traditional attire, her body moving gracefully in the fire’s glow. For an instant, she seemed a stranger, and yet more truly herself than he had ever known.
She turned her head, eyes lifting toward the trees. Matt stumbled backward, ducking for cover. He had to get out of there.
He spun around and nearly collided with John.
“Shhh.” John pressed a finger to his lips and grabbed Matt’s arm, guiding him quietly away from the gathering.
About the Author
Raised on the beaches of South Texas, R.G. Stanford has always been
drawn to stories that transcend time. That passion was ignited in 1976 with
the discovery of Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, and deepened
with The Feast of All Saints just a few years later. Though historical fiction
wasn’t an immediate calling, a personal journey into genealogy changed
everything.
With no close relatives nearby, R.G. Stanford turned to online resources in
search of extended family. That search became a twenty-year journey through
genealogy websites, Federal Census records, the National Archives, and old
newspapers. Along the way, R.G. Stanford uncovered incredible stories about
her family and the people who once lived in the Choctaw Nation, Indian
Territory.
Compelled to record the truth of her family in the lore, sprinkled with
imagination, R.G. Stanford is a history lover, a research buff, and a
passionate genealogy enthusiast. She is also a mother, a grandmother, and a
teller of stories, now living near Orlando.
Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Christmas Romance
Date Published: December 12, 2025
I’ve played every game there is. But this time, it’s for
keeps.
Heather -- Brick promised me a good paying job. I just didn’t know he
was working for a cartel. When their money went missing, I was hunted along
with him, used and finally left with the Hounds of Hell MC in Mercy to answer
for his crimes. If not for Player, I would have wound up dead or worse. He
claimed me as his old lady to keep me from being turned over to the cartel. He
shielded me, fought for me. And somehow, I started to believe I mattered
again. The cartel is still gunning for me, but Player’s not backing
down. He says I’m his, and I want to be. If we can survive this.
Player -- I’m called Player for a reason. My life’s been a string
of one-night stands and bad decisions. Until Heather. She’s scared and
in over her head, but there’s something about her I can’t shake.
When Brick left her in Mercy, running from the cartel he stole from, I made a
choice. I don’t care what she’s done or what they think she knows.
Heather is under my protection now. And if anyone wants her, they’ll
have to go through me -- and every single brother I’ve got.
Warning: Player contains adult language, explicit sex, violence, threats of
torture, stalking, and references to past emotional abuse. It also features a
dirty-talking alpha biker who will cross every line to protect the woman he
claims as his own.
EXCERPT
Player
The Hounds of Hell clubhouse sat at the far end of Main Street, past the reach
of the twinkling lights and holiday carolers who’d turned Mercy’s
annual tree lighting into a full-blown event last night. Normally, the Hounds
didn’t bother with Christmas decorations because they were too much
trouble, too much cheer. But this year was different.
Deva, Razor’s old lady, made it clear even if the club wasn’t
going to feel like home, the place could at least look the part for the
holidays. No one was going to tell the president’s lady no. So now
mismatched strands of blinking lights clung to the porch like a half-hearted
apology, and the scent of pine fought to cut through layers of leather, smoke,
and liquor. Inside, the mood was anything but festive.
Since Player had lost a bet, one he still claimed was rigged, he’d
earned the honor of decorating the Christmas tree Deva had dropped off at the
clubhouse the night before. The tree was still boxed in Razor’s office,
fake pine branches and all, along with a tub of lights, ornaments, and exactly
one glitter-covered star Snow refused to touch.
Player had his hand on the doorknob, figuring he’d grab the box and let
Razor know he was making good on his punishment. But then he paused, hearing
Razor and Snow talking in low and clipped voices, the kind of conversation you
didn’t interrupt unless invited. Whatever was going down in there, it
wasn’t about garland or tinsel.
He heard the rumble of a bike pulling in out front. Curiosity made him let go
of the doorknob and head for the front of the clubhouse to see who’d
come calling.
The bike now parked out front belonged to Brick, a patch from the Mississippi
chapter in Biloxi. From what he remembered, the guy was all swagger and no
spine. Player didn’t like him, but Brick had never been dumb enough to
test anyone here directly. He’d visited Mercy a couple of times in the
past, but he always had the good sense to fly under the radar.
A second rider dismounted, swinging one long leg over the back of the bike. A
woman. No, not just a woman. A vision.
Her dark jeans clung to her like old sin, her boots dusted with grit from the
road. A leather jack hung too heavy on her slender frame. When she pulled off
the helmet, she shook loose long, glossy dark spirals of hair. She turned her
head enough for Player to catch a flash of wide green eyes and a full mouth. A
woman who looked like that should be all sass and fire, but there was a
wariness about her. Her gaze moved over the front of the clubhouse as though
being there filled her with dread. She expected trouble.
Was she with Brick? How had he gotten a woman who looked that good? Brick
looked like he’d crawled out from under a busted oil pan and
hadn’t changed his shirt since. He had a thick neck, and a gut
stretching the bottom of his cut. He wore his hair slicked back, as if he
thought he still had a full head of it. The man’s nose was twisted from
too many fights he probably hadn’t won, and a mouth that curved like he
was about to lie.
Brick turned and spoke to her. She nodded and followed him. There was a subtle
shift in her posture. Her shoulders were tight. She was bracing for a fight.
Player wasn’t buying those two as a couple. She didn’t belonged on
the back of Brick’s bike or in his bed unless money was involved.
Staying in the shadows near the main entrance, he folded his arms and watched
as Brick swaggered toward the clubhouse.
The main door opened, and Brick walked in with the woman, just in time to see
Razor and Snow walk back to the front of the house.
“Brick,” Razor said, voice flat. “Didn’t expect to see
you.”
Brick gave Razor a lazy grin. “I’m calling in that favor, brother.
Need a place to crash for a while. Lay low.”
Favor, huh? Player stepped toward the front door. Razor didn’t do
favors. Anyone who knew the man knew that. But Player had a pretty good idea
what favor Brick was talking about.
Back when Sadie had first showed up in Mercy, before becoming Axel’s old
lady, they’d found a tracker on her car, put there by the abusive Mafia
boyfriend she’d been running from. To throw him off, Ryder, Axel’s
twin, had driven the vehicle all the way to Mississippi. The Biloxi Hounds had
been the ones to help him make the tracker disappear without a trace.
If that was the “favor” Brick meant, it wasn’t much of one.
Ryder wouldn’t have needed a lot of help to lose the tracker. If Brick
was desperate enough to stretch the truth about something like that, there was
a lot more to why he’d shown up here with a woman on the back of his
bike.
Razor’s stare was ice cold. Apparently their president didn’t like
Brick any more than Player did. Player leaned against the wall, letting his
presence be known. Brick’s gaze moved toward him and back. Player
smiled.
Razor looked Brick over like he was already sorting out the lie.
“Funny,” he said. “I don’t remember owing you
shit.”
Brick tipped his chin up. “You don’t, huh? What about when Ryder
came down to Mississippi with that tracker you needed gone? Who do you think
helped him ditch it in the bayou, so no one found it?”
Razor’s gaze didn’t so much as flicker. “I remember Biloxi
helping him out. Didn’t know that meant you specifically.”
Brick gave a shrug meant to look casual. “I was there. Helped ditch the
thing myself. Figured that kind of help might buy me a place to breathe for a
few days.”
“You think you’re in the right place for that?”
Razor’s voice was low, dangerous.
Snow shifted beside him, arms crossed. Player watched the way Brick’s
gaze bounced between them, like he couldn’t decide who’d swing
first.
“You want a roof? I want answers,” Razor went on. “Why
you’re here. What kind of heat’s chasing you.” Razor’s
hazel-eyed gaze shifted to the woman standing behind him. “And her? She
yours?”
Brick gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Yeah. She rides with me.”
“Didn’t ask if she rode in with you. I asked if she’s
yours.”
“Heather’s with me,” Brick said, a little more force in his
voice now. “You don’t need to worry about her.”
“If she’s under this roof, she’s my business,” Razor
told him. “You want her here, then I need to know she’s not a
problem.”
Brick chuckled without humor. “She won’t be. She knows how to stay
quiet.”
Snow’s jaw muscle moved. Their VP didn’t like men who talked about
women as if they were property. Not in his clubhouse. Not since he met his
little blonde baker, Emily.
Snow remained silent, his gaze locked on Brick like he was already considering
the consequences of dragging the fucker out by his dirty collar. Player felt
the same way, and not only because Brick was an asshole. They’d all seen
worse. What bothered him was the way the young woman with him stood behind
him. She was keeping quiet, and she didn’t look down or even move.
Seemed like she didn’t want to draw attention. Was she afraid of
something? The only thing he knew for sure about her was she didn’t
belong with a man like Brick. Player couldn’t decide if that made her
more interesting or more dangerous.
About the Author
Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She's anxious to
introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who
surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie.
But there's thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the feels.
Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on the
side, and she's an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys time
with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror movies and
shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds writing and
reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward to hearing from
you.
The Hippocratic Oath dictates, “First, do no harm,” but what if
success demands it?
The calm and compassionate Dr. Joyce Porter is proud to work at McArthur
Fertility Institute, where miracles happen every day. Couples determined to
conceive flock to the clinic, drawn by its unmatched IVF success rate and
glowing reputation.
But behind the clinic’s shining facade lies a disturbing secret. When
another doctor mentions a peculiarity in the facility’s methods, Joyce
investigates. What she discovers is worse than she could have imagined. Now,
she must decide whether to confront the institute’s renowned director
about his unscrupulous deeds or compromise her ethics by turning a blind eye.
She knows staying silent could destroy people’s lives, but speaking out
could destroy hers.
As the line between healing and harm blurs, Joyce must decide how far
she’s willing to go to protect her patients, her integrity, and the
future she still hopes to build.
About the Author
M.J. Kuhar worked in private practice as an OB-GYN for over a decade
before shifting to a career in higher education, first as an assistant
professor, then as a college dean, and finally as a vice president.
Her dedication to helping patients and students left her little time to write,
but the idea for a novel stuck with her. Inspired by deeply moving stories of
couples undergoing IVF, she developed her first novel, In Vitro.
Now retired, M.J. lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and a spicy
cat named Simon. She volunteers at a local elementary school, where she reads
with kindergarteners to foster a love of books. Tai chi, crafting, and wine
tasting are a few of her favorite hobbies.
12 Mini-Shifts To Ditch Self-Doubt and Own Your Life
Self-Help
Date Published: December 9, 2025
STOP SHRINKING. START OWNING YOUR LIFE.
A no-nonsense, heart-driven guide to help you break free from self-doubt and
live boldly.
If you’ve ever held back because you didn’t feel smart enough,
ready enough, or worthy enough, this book is your turning point.
In Unshrink Yourself, bestselling author and leadership coach Thanh Nguyen
shares twelve small-but-mighty mindset shifts that help you silence your inner
critic, let go of perfectionism, and finally step into your power.
With raw honesty, heartfelt stories, and practical reflection exercises, Thanh
guides you through the exact steps she used to rebuild her
confidence—from a voiceless immigrant teenager to an engineering
executive, bestselling author, professor, and speaker who leads with courage
and heart.
Each mini-shift is a simple yet profound change in how you think, speak, and
show up every day. From accepting compliments and discovering your core values
to rewiring negative self-talk and celebrating small wins, these shifts
compound to transform how you see yourself and what you believe is possible.
If you’re tired of shrinking, second-guessing, and settling for less
than you deserve… it’s time to rise.
Inside, you’ll learn how to:
• Break free from self-sabotaging thoughts and limiting beliefs
• Replace fear with faith and self-criticism with compassion
• Speak up, stand tall, and own your worth
• Build confidence through consistent, courageous action
• Lead your life with authenticity, balance, and joy
You don’t need to be perfect—just present, brave, and willing to
grow.
Because the world doesn’t need a smaller version of you.
It needs the real you—confident, courageous, and unapologetically alive.
It’s time to Unshrink Yourself.
Praise For Unshrink Yourself:
"If you've ever held yourself back, played small when you knew you had more to
give, or wondered whether your voice really matters, this book is for you. It
will remind you that the world doesn't need a smaller version of you; it needs
the fullest, boldest, most authentic expression of you." —Jack Canfield.
Co-creator, Chicken Soup for the Soul® series. New York Times Bestselling
Author, The Success Principles™: How to Get from Where You Are to Where
You Want to Be
"Unshrink Yourself helps readers grow into confident, values-driven leaders.
Thanh Nguyen is a shining example of the Maxwell Leadership mission in action
— to equip and empower others to lead with integrity, purpose, and
passion. She embodies what it means to add value to people." —Chris
Robinson. EVP of Maxwell Leadership Team. USA Today Bestselling Author, From
Drift to Drive: A High Achiever's Guide To Breaking The Chains Of Complacency
Thanh Nguyen is the co-founder of The Encourage Team and the bestselling
author of Calm in Chaos: Mindfulness and Meditation for Busy Professionals. A
certified leadership coach, keynote speaker, Professor in the Practice at Rice
University, and longtime mindfulness practitioner, she is dedicated to helping
individuals cultivate resilience, clarity, and courage through mindset
mastery.
Originally from Vietnam, Thanh overcame financial hardship, language barriers,
and personal adversity after immigrating to the United States as a teenager.
With two master’s degrees—in Electrical Engineering and Business
Administration—two U.S. patents, and more than twenty years of corporate
leadership experience, she now channels her expertise into empowering others
to live positively, lead courageously, and take inspired action toward their
goals.
Cupid trades arrows for scones in a magical screwball comedy
Romantic Comedy, Humor Novel, Light Fantasy
Tropes: Valentine’s Day romance, Small Town Romance Slow Burn Romance,
Found Family, Forbidden Romance, Meddling Family
Publisher: Making Hay Press
Date Published: 12-09-2025
“The Valentine Lines” reimagines Cupid—aka Bart
McGee—as an underdog ditching the corporate grind of Mt. Olympus, Inc.,
for small-town life in quaint Mineral Point, Wisconsin. When Bart launches a
matchmaking business and falls in love with a local baker, chaos ensues as his
meddling Olympus relatives crash the scene. It’s packed with snappy
banter, slapstick escapades, mythological mishaps, and thoughtful explorations
of love, trust, and self-discovery.
It’s a modern “Bell, Book, and Candle.” A light,
literary escape for readers craving whimsy with emotional resonance.
No sex, politics, foul language. Manuscript winner/finalist in CIBA (humor)
and Southwest Writers.
She went back in time to rescue him. She never
counted on falling in love…
Alma Whitecrow prefers hunting and fishing with men, not
romancing them. But hearing about the roguishly handsome coureur de
bois, who saved her sister from the Dakota, haunts her thoughts and dreams.
Well-versed in surviving the wilds, Alma resolves to travel to the
mid-eighteenth century, as her sister once did, to save the man from impending
death.
Charlot Baudelaire thumbs his nose at society’s
expectations, content living as a loner, trading with people he calls the Saulters.
If he needs a woman for the night, there is always a willing maiden. What he
doesn’t expect is a spunky and stubborn female warrior to challenge him.
Charlot is not the man Alma dreamed about, and Alma is not
the kind of woman Charlot pursues. But the longer they are together, the more
drawn to each other they become, until Alma faces the biggest decision of her
life. Stay with a man who may never reciprocate her love, or return to her
Ojibway home and bland existence.
Alma had expected to step into a battle. Reality set in. The only
killing she’d done was animals when hunting with Grandpa. But if she didn’t
shoot, she risked her own life and Theodore’s as she faced six Dakota sporting
arrows.
Theodore growled, waiting for her command.
The Dakota didn’t fire at her, though. They seemed to fire
everywhere else, hollering in a language she couldn’t comprehend. The fear in
their eyes indicated she’d terrified them.
Maybe they assumed she was a ghost when she’d emerged through the
flickering flames.
As the Dakota scattered, she tracked their moccasin footprints, but
one set stood out. Grandpa had told her about the spread of the toes, and these
toes weren’t spread. They came from a person who walked in shoes or boots.
Someone who later in life had switched to the footwear of the Indigenous
people.
She followed the footprints with Theodore beside her, sniffing. She
used the end of her rifle to move aside the thick brush, which was why her
homeland was called the bush at her reserve. There was nothing to call a
forest or woods about Northwestern Ontario.
The thick underbrush kept trying to snag her clothing. Clothing she
longed to remove. When she left home, she’d donned an outfit for a cold
Halloween night. But summer bloomed here. She could remove her jacket since she
had a sweater underneath, and beneath that a tank top.
A groan came about ten feet from her, and she aimed her rifle in the
direction of the sound. She moved through the many twigs and branches but
didn’t spot a blood trail. Whatever lay beneath the berry bush had been hit
there.
Another groan.
Whoever was hurt wasn’t an animal. That was the sound of a human
being. Maybe one of the Dakota?
She edged in closer until she caught the moccasins sticking out,
along with breeches. This wasn’t a Dakota or warrior from the village under
attack.
Her heart held its beat.
Had she found Charlot?
Setting
While growing up as a little girl, my family was involved in baseball, so we’d head for the local baseball diamond at The Point (a peninsula on the lake). While my mother sat in the stands to watch, and my father coached the team, me, along with my brother and sisters, along with our cousins, would tear off to the replica fort situated right beside the baseball game happening.
I had no idea at the time that the fort was once a trading post during the fur trade in Canada. Nor did I realize where we played was a big gathering spot for my Ojibway ancestors to meet in the spring to celebrate the Midewiwin. From what I researched, over a thousand of them would gather there to celebrate “seeking the good life.”
I also didn’t understand that the waterways were the “roads” for my people to travel. Most people associate Indigenous people with horses and teepees. That is not so for the Woodlands people who were all about the wigwam and canoe. The French fur traders, and eventually the Voyageurs also traveled these waterways. The lake and river were part of The Voyageurs Highway.
So yes, writing about this area came naturally to me for the Maizemerized series. I wanted to explore my homeland from the Rainy Lake and Rainy River to Lake of the Woods.
Free use image from Open Clipart Vectors
Ornery Owl's Review
Five out of Five Stars
This story kept me reading! The pace is snappy and the plot is unique. If you like time travel romance and your favorite tropes include grumpy/sunshine and enemies to lovers with definite sexual chemistry, this is the story for you. Only one bed--or bedroll? You got it!
I found Alma to be a relatable and emotionally compelling heroine. She is practical, plain-spoken, and proud of her hunting skills. Charlot is well-cast as the grumpy component of the grumpy/sunshine pair with his rough edges, roguish charm, and soft center. I felt Alma's struggle to decide whether to remain in the past, considering everything she'll lose if she does so.
My only complaint is that the time travel rules are somewhat vague. Is the path between eras only open at Halloween? Is it limited to the corn-maze's reappearance? This wasn't a big enough bone of contention to cause me to remove a star from my rating. The world-building and the strength of the characters and their connection carry the story.
The steamy encounters between Alma and Charlot make this book appropriate only for adult readers. The scenes are beautifully written and those who enjoy explicit moments in their romance will appreciate them.
Born For This
Maizemerized Book 1
She’s always been obsessed with her ancestors, and now he’s
offering her a chance to live with them... forever.
Second-year university student Edie Whitecrow gobbles up
each course on Indigenous studies. If only she could experience the lives of
her Anishinaabe ancestors instead of reading about them. On
her way to a Halloween party decked out as a historical Ojibway maiden, she
spies a corn maze in a spot known to be barren.
A scarecrow figure beckons Edie to enter with the enticing
offer of making her biggest wish come true. She jumps at the chance and finds
herself in the past, face to face with the man who haunts her dreams—the
handsome brave Thunder Bear. He claims he’s spent twelve years waiting
for Gitche Manidoo to send her to him.
Life in the eighteenth century isn’t what Edie romanticized
about, though. When her conscience is tested, she must choose between the
modern day or the world of her descendants—where the man she was born for
resides.
What readers
are saying:
“This novel is true to history while still spinning a
lovely tale of love. I highly recommend it to anyone who loves historical and
time travel romances.” –Goodreads Reviewer
“The story had me glued to the pages from start to finish. Loved and recommend
this book.” –B&N Reviewer
“Based on prior reading from the author, I knew this would be a great book. I
had no idea just how much I’d love it.” –BookBub Reviewer
“Once I started reading, I was not putting this book down.” –Goodreads Reviewer
This is one of the best romance novels I’ve ever read in
my entire life. This book will pull you in full force and make you feel so many
different emotions.” –Goodreads Reviewer
Thunder Bear nodded. “Fire Woman. Is it not an appropriate name? The
flames did not burn you. Fire is your friend. Your spirit guide.”
“I want to be honest.” She wet her plush mouth with the color riper
than raspberries. “I have been educated in the ways of the white men. Where I
come from, we live like white men.”
“I know you do. It is in your speech, your movement, your behavior.”
He reached out and touched her bare arm that possessed delicate strength
beneath the smooth flesh he palmed. “You are here to become what you are meant
to truly be. We will teach you, if you are willing.”
“I am more than willing. In the white man’s world, I am learning
everything about the People. I have studied the People ever since I was a
little girl.”
“I know you have. It is why you came.” He could not resist letting
his palm move along her arm. Beneath the skin he stroked, her slight muscle
flexed.
She wet her lips.
The urge to claim her mouth was a test of his restraint. They’d only
met this morning, and he must go slow. To slide his mouth over hers after just
meeting was not how a warrior conducted himself. Yet, the way she’d drew her
tongue along her lower lip was caressing and licking him beneath his
breechclout. Her innocent gesture might as well have been her nails raking his
backside, her hands boldly exploring his arms, and her breasts melting against
his chest.
She was aptly named, because a fire danced in her sparkling dark
eyes. A fire of desire. A fire of need. A fire flickering with mesmerization in
her gaze touching his face.
He stifled the groan aching to leave his throat.
She seemed to drag her gaze to the dark water. If where they stood
was better lit, he’d probably witness redness on her cheeks.
“What is it?”
Again, she wet her lips. “I… Maybe I should go back?”
A punch seemed to knock his gut. “Return? Now?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean the wigwam. Not the…the…”
“The dancing flames?”
She nodded.
Relief loosened the knots of his shoulder muscles. He didn’t believe
in restraining any maiden, but if she had dared to run for where she had come
from, he probably would have tossed her over his shoulder and carted her back
to the camp. Now that he had found what he’d waited twelve years to capture, he
wasn’t letting her go.
Somehow, he had to help her find her courage to survive with them.
She was destined to be here.
An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie
resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful
Alaskan Malamutes. When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds
in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush,
teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or
sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with
the people she loves most.
