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Last week, I had the wonderful opportunity to sit down with 304 Today for an interview with sweet Miss Lauren — who truly made the experience feel welcoming and easy, even for someone who was quietly panicking on the inside 😅 If I’m being honest, I was absolutely nervous. Writing stories is one thing. Sitting in front of cameras and talking about yourself, your books, and your journey? That is something entirely different. I definitely stumbled over a few words here and ther

🖤📚 Brakesville is traveling, friends… 📚🖤 I sat down to look at my year-to-date analytics today, and truthfully… I had to pause for a moment. What started as stories written quietly in the hills of West Virginia has somehow found its way into homes, bookstores, and hearts far beyond anything I ever imagined. This year alone, Brakesville has reached readers across much of the United States and into countries around the world — including Canada, the United Kingdom, Nigeria,

There are moments in life that don’t quite feel real while you’re living them. Standing behind the *304 Today* desk holding my books in my hands was one of those moments for me. And honestly? I was nervous. I definitely stammered a little. My heart was racing. I worried about saying the wrong thing, sounding awkward, or not fully finding my words in the moment. But underneath all of that nervousness was something much bigger: Pure excitement. Because this wasn’t just about ap

The land remembers. The quiet isn’t empty. Some stories don’t begin on paper.They begin in places you’ve already been. This one started a long time ago—somewhere between childhood summers, warm dirt under bare feet, and the kind of silence that never really felt empty. 🌾 A Story Rooted in Memory Beyond the Raspberry Bushes: Scarecrow of Crawdad Creek follows eight-year-old Taylor Mae Dayton during the summer of 1992, on her grandmother’s small farm in Brakesville. Her days a

The house is quiet in that rare, sacred way. Pre-spring snow dusts the ground like a last-minute apology from winter. Not enough to be dramatic. Just enough to hush the world. The kind that softens the edges of fences and porch rails and reminds you that seasons don’t change all at once — they ease into it. I stood at the window this morning, wrapped in a sweater that has seen more drafts and deadlines than it should, and let myself breathe. No rushing. No posting. No hustlin

Good Monday morning, friends. It’s hard to believe that The Mystery of Cerise Falls has been out in the world for three months now. That book holds a special place in my heart — maybe because it was the one that felt the most like coming home, or maybe because Cerise Falls itself has a way of lingering with you long after you’ve turned the last page. Recently, I received a lovely email from T.L. in VA, and with her permission, I wanted to share a short reader Q&A she sent alo

Evenings have a way of telling the truth. The house gets quiet. The noise fades. And what’s left is the part of me that doesn’t need to perform. 2026 feels like a threshold year. Not loud. Not flashy. But steady—like a lantern set down on a familiar path. My books are finding their readers now. Not everyone. Not all at once. But the right ones. The ones who pause on certain sentences. The ones who feel something stir when the woods get quiet in my stories. The ones who unders

Up with the chickens on a whopping 23-degree morning. The kind of cold that makes the hills hold their breath a little longer. The house is quiet. No hum of the day yet—just the gentle creak of floors, the soft glow of early light, and that stillness you only get before the world remembers it’s supposed to be loud. Cocoa warms my hands. Thoughts wander. This is the space where stories begin—before the rush, before the noise, before the list of things that need done. Just me,

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,