When people hear the word research, they usually picture stacks of books, endless Google searches, or someone buried in notes about horses, law enforcement, or military life.
I know that’s where my head goes.
And yes, there's plenty of that. My search history scares me sometimes. I’m sure one of these days I’ll have to explain why I was researching drugs used with kidnapping. (If you’re interested, there’s a scene in Saving Maddie.)
I spend a lot of time making sure the details are right. If I'm writing about a sheriff's department, I want the procedures to feel authentic. If my characters are ranchers, I want their world to feel believable. If someone is recovering from an injury or navigating a difficult chapter of life, I want to understand the realities they face.
Those details matter, if they’re not there, characters tend to be flat, which we can’t have that.
But details are only part of the story.
The research that takes the most time rarely has anything to do with facts. Sure, I’ve figured out how that kidnapping happens, that was the easy part but what about the things that go with it. The pieces that pull at the heart strings.
Instead, I find myself asking different questions.
What happens to someone's confidence after an injury changes their life overnight?
How does grief reshape a family?
How do childhood experiences influence the choices we make as adults?
What does healing really look like?
Not the movie version. The real version. The one that's messy, frustrating, and rarely follows a straight line.
Those are the answers I'm always searching for. They’re the ones that give the story life.
I don't want my characters to feel perfect because people aren't perfect. Ever met a perfect person? I haven’t but I’d imagine they’d be awfully dull.
I want my characters to carry scars. To make mistakes. To wrestle with fear, guilt, pride, and hope. I want them to have strengths they're proud of and weaknesses they'd rather hide. I want them to be the kind of people you might recognize because, in one way or another, they remind you of someone you know...or maybe even yourself. My goal is always characters people can relate too.
Lately, that's been especially true as I've been spending more time with the residents of Knight Ranch.
Some of the biggest lessons haven't come from learning about ranch life or law enforcement. They've come from trying to understand the emotional journeys these characters are on. Why they make the choices they do? What they're afraid of. What they're willing to fight for, and what they're still learning to forgive themselves for.
That's the kind of research that doesn't come from a textbook.
It comes from listening, reading, studying and yes, even watching movies and TV Series.
Because at the end of the day, my stories have never really been about cowboys, small towns, or even romance.
They're about people. People who are trying to find their way after life doesn't go according to plan. The last few weeks, I’ve started to discover what happens when your life doesn’t go as planned. One bad day changes everything.
People learning that asking for help isn't weakness.
People discovering that family isn't always the one you're born into.
And people slowly realizing they're still worthy of love, even after everything they've been through.
That's why I spend so much time researching.
Not because I want every detail to be perfect.
Because I want every character to feel real.
And if I've done my job well, by the time they reach their happily ever after, it won't just feel satisfying.
It will feel earned.
Want a sneak peak?
“Looks like you made a friend.”
I grumbled. “You’re married to Shep Hayes?”
“Guilty.” She smirked.
“Why?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That’s quite a loaded question, Sergeant.”
I ignored her attempt at deflecting.
“Did you invite her here?”
Claire folded her arms and huffed.
“I invited my sister-in-law to lunch.”
I stared at her.
“The rest…” She gave a shrug. “...was out of my hands.”
I wasn’t sure I believed her.
She leaned forward.
“You aren’t getting out of that chair if you keep shutting everyone out.”
I looked away, my hand tightening into a fist.
"I can't call your family for you." Her voice softened. "Believe me, if I could, I would."
She glanced toward Teddy.
"It's been hard enough keeping this from Shep, once I figured out who you were."
Her eyes found mine again.
"I refused to give up on you."
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