Let’s talk about something messy, universal, and just a little too real: the anxious-avoidant trap. You know the one—where one person clings, the other bolts, and they both end up reenacting a dance choreographed by every unresolved childhood wound known to man.

Enter my new novel, Through the Gripevine.

(It’s like Normal People, but gayer and with slightly better communication. Slightly.)

At the heart of the story are Aaron and Daniel—two men who should not work together by any textbook definition of compatibility. Aaron’s the kind of guy who texts you back before you’ve even hit send. Daniel? He ghosted a therapist mid-session. On paper, it’s doomed. In practice? Sparks fly, defenses rise, and what follows is a painfully familiar cycle of pursuit and retreat, affection and avoidance, truth and denial.

It’s hot. It’s frustrating. It’s honest. And if you’ve ever found yourself staring at your phone waiting for that “…” to appear—or avoiding a perfectly good human because they felt too safe—you might see yourself in these pages.

But Through the Gripevine isn’t just a romantic spiral—it’s a story about awareness. What happens when you finally realize your patterns aren’t fate? That love doesn’t always look like longing? That sometimes, the person you’re running from isn’t your partner—it’s yourself?

(And no, the answer isn’t “start a podcast” or “block them on everything,” although… fair.)

This novel digs into what it really means to be emotionally honest—not just with someone else, but with yourself. It’s sharp, a little cynical, occasionally tender, and full of those quiet moments that linger long after the page turns.

If you’ve ever loved someone who made you feel like too much, or been the one who disappeared because closeness felt like drowning—this book is for you.

Read it. Rage at it. Maybe heal a little from it.

And if nothing else, Through the Gripevine might just remind you that your relationship issues are more relatable than you think.