All Posts

Some places don’t just exist on a map. They exist in you. When I first began sharing my stories—quietly, nervously, hopeful in that way only writers understand—Lazy Acres Mart didn’t hesitate. They listened. They asked questions. And without a second thought, they offered to carry my books. That kind of support stays with you. Later, when they asked if I’d be interested in a book signing this year, I was over the moon. Truly. Because this wasn’t just about books on a table—it

Stories have always lived in the hills of Appalachia — passed down on porches, whispered over coffee cups, and carried quietly through small towns. My work is rooted in that tradition, blending mystery, folklore, and heart into stories meant to linger with you long after the last page. Right now, three titles are available (or arriving soon), each offering a different doorway into the worlds I love to write. The Mystery of Cerise Falls Appalachian Mystery / Supernatural Suspe

There’s something about the quiet of early morning that mirrors the feeling behind The Mystery of Cerise Falls. The world is still, the fog hasn’t lifted yet, and everything feels suspended—like a town holding its breath. Cerise Falls is a small place, shaped by routine and familiarity, where people believe they know their neighbors and the past is rarely questioned. But beneath that calm surface are old whispers, unanswered questions, and the kind of secrets that linger long

There’s something sacred about midnight—especially when it lands at the doorway of a brand-new week, in a brand-new year. The world feels quieter then, as if it’s holding its breath, giving us space to think without being rushed. This is the first official full week of 2026, and instead of charging into it with noise and urgency, I’m choosing stillness. Peaceful moments like this have a way of shaping goals more honestly than any checklist ever could. They remind us to listen

It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tibbi Ann Hardix, a West Virginia–based author drawn to small towns, quiet moments, and the stories that linger just beneath the surface. My writing is rooted in Appalachian landscapes, folklore, and the subtle pull of the supernatural—where familiar places carry secrets, and ordinary lives brush up against something a little uncanny. My debut novel, The Mystery of Cerise Falls, introduced readers to Brakesville, a town loosely inspired by my own ho

✨🕯️ Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover it. 🕯️✨ As 2025 quietly comes to a close, I’m sitting here feeling incredibly thankful for every single soul who has wandered into this little corner of my world. What started as stories whispered on the page has turned into new friends, shared moments, and a growing community that truly means more than numbers ever could. I’m honestly over the moon watching this journey unfold—seeing familiar names, welcoming new faces, and knowing

The old clock ticked louder than it should have. Not broken—just aware. Outside, the hills wore a thin frost, the kind that turns every sound sharp. Snow hadn’t fallen yet, but the air promised it. Midnight hovered close, waiting its turn like it always does on New Year’s Eve—quiet, patient, watching. The house settled around us. Floorboards sighed. Pipes whispered. Somewhere near the back porch, the wind found a loose board and knocked once… then twice. Not a warning. More l

New Year’s Eve Eve Snow arrives softly, the kind that knows better than to rush. It settles along old storefronts and brick edges, rounding corners and dimming time. The bridge spans the river like a familiar thought, its reflection wavering in dark water below. The sky never quite lifts today. A low winter gray hangs on, pressing everything closer, quieter. Streetlights glow early, their warmth blurred by frost. Windows shine from within—small, steady lights holding ordinary

Christmas Eve settles differently in Brakesville. It doesn’t arrive loudly. It drifts in—quiet as breath on cold glass—curling through the hollers and resting on porches where boots once lined up and laughter once spilled late into the night. The town holds its breath this evening, as if listening for something familiar. I learned long ago that Christmas here is not about what’s missing. It’s about what stays. Tonight, the houses glow softly. Not bright. Not flashy. Just enou

👻 The Legend of Our Ghost Kitty: A November Morning Visit Some stories walk back into your life when you least expect them. And some… pad quietly across your security cameras at 5:14 in the morning. We’ve lived in these hills long enough to know the difference between a stray cat and something a little more—well—otherworldly. But this visitor? This one has a history with us. Ghost Kitty showed up one chilly autumn morning last year, right on the edge of the woods. Grey and w

There are stories that whisper. Stories that wait patiently in quiet places. And then there are stories that refuse to stay buried. The Mystery of Cerise Falls was written with heart, grief, courage, and a love for small towns where legends linger just beneath the surface. What began as a quiet idea slowly became a story I trusted enough to follow wherever it led—and now, it’s finding its way into readers’ hands. If you’ve been curious about Cerise Falls, or you’re ready to s

A Halloween Mystery Update Some stories take their time. They wander a little. They curl up. They wait until they feel just right. That’s exactly where Reese the Haunted Halloweenie – A Halloween Mystery is right now. The edits are nearly complete, and I can finally feel the story settling into itself. Recent updates have done something special—they’ve softened the flow, tightened the heartbeats of the scenes, and made Reese’s journey feel even more natural, more comforting,

Today, I’m celebrating my oldest son — the one who made me a mother and quietly changed every part of my life forever. There’s something about birthdays that always slows me down. They make me look back just as much as I look forward. I think about tiny hands, first laughs, late nights, early mornings, and all the in-between moments that somehow disappear too fast. And then I look at you now — taller, wiser, steadier — and I’m reminded how lucky I’ve been to witness every ver

A special post dedicated to today’s Cerise Falls celebration If you’ve spent any time in my stories, you’ve probably noticed one very important thing: there are always dachshunds. And today felt like the perfect time to finally say it out loud — this post is lovingly dedicated to today’s celebration of The Mystery of Cerise Falls and to the little four-legged muses who sneak their way into my pages every time. Let me introduce you properly. The Hardix Doxie Clan 🐾 Meet Reese

The moment has arrived. After months of late nights, countless cups of Appalachian-inspired caffeine, and the watchful eyes of a tiny dachshund army, The Mystery of Cerise Falls is finally out in the world. This story, born from the whispers of small-town West Virginia and the magic tucked deep in the mountains, is ready to meet readers everywhere. If you’ve been waiting for a tale that blends mystery, folklore, and a touch of spooky charm, your time has come. Cerise Falls s

✨🥹 My heart is doing little backflips this morning, and honestly, I needed the reminder that sometimes the universe hands you small, perfect moments when you least expect them. I woke up to a message from someone who started reading The Mystery of Cerise Falls again yesterday… and they’re already halfway through it. Not only that, but they told me it’s giving them cold chills, that it keeps them hooked, and that they’re proud of me. As a writer, especially an indie author tr

Just a tad bit? https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8UmqPBK/

There’s something about a Sunday evening in the West Virginia hills that settles right into your bones. The kind of quiet that feels like an exhale after a long week, where the crisp air nips at your cheeks and every breath turns into a little cloud of fog drifting toward the treetops. Tonight, the leaves rustle like they’re sharing their own old stories—soft, secretive, the kind you only hear if you stand still long enough. The darkness comes earlier now, stretching across t

There’s a place in Brakesville where the woods breathe, the air tastes like old secrets, and the water runs the color of a warning. Last night, I found myself staring at this image again—the dark ridge leaning over the walkway, the fog clinging low like it has something to hide, and that haunting waterfall spilling red into the basin below. It feels like stepping directly into Heather and William’s world… the moment they both realize the truth at Cerise Falls isn’t done with

By Tibbi Ann Hardix Well… I’ve done it. I finally downloaded TikTok. If you hear a distant scream drifting through the hills of West Virginia, that’s probably just me trying to figure out which button does what. I’m convinced this app was built by a committee of caffeinated teenagers with faster thumbs than I’ll ever have. But here I am — jumping in anyway. I keep seeing authors talking about “building a platform" and “showing your face on video,” and meanwhile I’m over here