CHAPTER 1

The Way We Were

I was a chubby little girl in suburban Dallas, raised by workaholic parents who believed hustle was the only plan.

College wasn’t even in our vocabulary. If you wanted something, you worked for it — starting now.

Daddy’s Coffee Table Waltz

My earliest memories of my dad aren’t of lessons or lectures, but of music.

It would be late at night — so late the neighborhood felt like it belonged to us alone. Dad would scoop me up in his strong arms, still smelling faintly of Old Spice and motor oil, and plop me onto the old wooden coffee table in the living room.

The lamp cast a warm yellow glow over the room. The record player crackled to life, and “Chantilly Lace” poured out in that playful, growling voice.

He’d clap his hands and say, “Alright, baby girl, show me your moves.”

I’d dance barefoot on that wobbly table, my nightgown swishing around my legs, the edges of the wood pressing into my feet. Dad would twirl me like I was a movie star, laughing so hard his face turned red. For those few minutes, it felt like the world was nothing but music and light.

And then one morning, he was gone.

The Morning Everything Changed

I was too young to understand death, but I remember the way the air felt — heavy, like the house itself was holding its breath. I stood in the driveway barefoot, the pavement cool against my toes, watching as two men in white coats rolled a gurney to the ambulance.

A sheet covered what I somehow knew was my daddy.

Mom’s voice was distant, like she was talking through water. Neighbors stood in clusters on their lawns, whispering. I clung to the doorframe, refusing to cry, as if holding the tears back might keep him here.

That was the day my life split into before and after.

The New Order

Mom kept going because she had to. She worked double shifts at an upscale steakhouse, coming home smelling like steak seasoning and perfume from other women’s husbands.

Eventually, she remarried. His name was Hoss — a rancher’s son with a handshake like sandpaper and a drinking habit you could smell before you saw him.

On the outside, our new North Dallas house looked perfect — fresh paint, manicured lawn, matching curtains in every window. Inside, bottles hid under mattresses and behind toilet tanks, and I became his favorite target for criticism.

Miss Rose Moves In

Miss Rose had been our caretaker when I was little.

I thought her moving in would mean comfort. Instead, it meant I had another person in the house who didn’t like me much. She favored my brother Gary — cooking his eggs just the way he liked them, slipping him quarters for the candy store — while I got the burned toast and side-eye.

It was a strange kind of loneliness, living in a house full of people but feeling invisible.

Lake Bridgeport

Hoss bought a cabin at Lake Bridgeport, and weekends were spent driving there in the old pickup with beer cans rattling in the floorboard. The lake itself was beautiful — shimmering in the Texas sun, surrounded by scrub oak and the occasional heron. I’d escape to the shoreline, toes digging into wet sand, skipping rocks until my arm ached.

The lake was where I first learned my second survival skill: disappearing into myself. If I was quiet enough, if I kept my head down, I could become part of the scenery and avoid trouble.

We survived those years, but something darker was coming.

Manifestation Lesson #1: What Your Past is Teaching You

Your earliest experiences create the blueprint you unconsciously live by.

• Write down the messages you absorbed about love, safety, and success.


• Circle the ones that feel like yours. Cross out the ones you inherited.


• Manifestation starts with awareness. You can’t create what you want until you name what you no longer choose to carry.

CHAPTER 7

The Mountain Teaches

The mountain didn’t greet me with a gentle sunrise and a warm welcome.

It tested me.

The first night, the wind roared through the canyons like an uninvited guest, rattling the windows and making the walls groan. I lay in bed, eyes wide open, certain the roof might lift off and carry me with it. The air was colder than I’d imagined, sliding under the door and curling around my ankles like a warning.

By morning, the storm had passed, leaving a silence so thick it felt almost physical. In Dallas, silence meant something was wrong — an argument brewing, a door about to slam. Out here, it was different. It was as if the land itself was saying, Listen.

So I listened.

I heard the slow drip of snowmelt off the eaves, the scratch of a pine branch against the cabin wall, the steady beat of my own heart. I heard my breath — uneven at first, then steadier, as if my body was catching up to the fact that nothing here was chasing me.

Days passed, and the mountain began to show me its rhythm.

The light moved across the ridge like a slow tide. Deer left delicate prints in the snow near the stream. The sky, depending on the hour, could be the palest blue or deep enough to swallow you whole.

One evening, barefoot in the cool dirt outside my cabin, I looked toward the horizon and — without planning it — pictured a life here. Not just hiding out, but belonging. I could feel it in my chest, warm and steady, as if it had already happened.

I didn’t know it then, but I was brushing against what I would later call the “Sweet Spot” — the place where vision and feeling meet, and the universe begins to respond.

Manifestation Lesson #7: Let the Space Teach You

Manifestation begins in the quiet.

• Create a moment where the noise of the world can’t reach you.


• Instead of filling the silence, let it fill you.

CHAPTER 12

The Sweet Spot Method

I didn’t know it at the time, but a white Land Rover with camel leather seats would become my first big manifestation — and it came to me in the most unexpected, almost impossible way.

After my heart failure, the cardiologist gave me a clear, terrifying warning: “You can never work again. Takotsubo syndrome is stress-induced heart failure — the smallest amount of stress could kill you.”

But I didn’t listen.

Starving to death sounded worse than dying from work. I had bills, responsibilities, and the belief that I was too stubborn to break. So, I tried to go back. I was living in Oklahoma, working in Texas for my boss, Laura Lynn. She and her wife Stacey seemed to have it all — freedom, success, and those sleek black Range Rovers. I was loyal to a fault, and I told myself I could just push through.

That morning, I didn’t make it far.

They say my heart stopped while I was driving. My car hit an electrical pole, somehow crossed the highway without hitting anyone, and landed in the grassy median of Highway 75. I hadn’t even made it out of Oklahoma. When I woke up in the hospital, my car was totaled.

Here’s where the universe stepped in.

Between the insurance payout and the money Laura raised for me through a GoFundMe, I had just enough to buy a used car. On the lot sat a white Land Rover with camel leather seats — the exact one I had pictured years before, right down to the year, 2008 (I hadn’t asked for new, just for mine).

That was my lightbulb moment.

I realized I had manifested that car before my health crisis — I just didn’t know how it would come to me. The book Laura had once given me had told me to see it, feel it, and release it. And I had. Without knowing the “how,” it had found its way to me.

That was the day I understood the Sweet Spot Method works. And little did I know how much I’d use it to completely rearrange my life and start over.

The Three Steps of the Sweet Spot Method

Step 1 – See It

Picture what you want in vivid detail — color, texture, sound, smell. Make it real in your mind before it’s real in your life.

Step 2 – Feel It

Step into the emotions you’d have if it were already yours. Joy, gratitude, relief — let your body believe before your mind catches up.

Step 3 – Release It

Trust that it’s already on its way without controlling when or how. The Sweet Spot lives in that relaxed certainty.

From Cars to Cabins

Years later, when I needed more than just a car — when I needed an entirely new life — I came back to this method. Only this time, I pictured a home on a mountain, the peace of open land, and the freedom in my chest. I felt it, I released it… and the mountain answered.

If it could bring me a Land Rover when I didn’t have a dollar to spare, it could bring me a whole new life. And it did.

Manifestation Lesson #12: Find Your Sweet Spot

• Spend 2 minutes seeing your desire in detail.


• Spend 2 minutes feeling it as if it’s already yours.


• Release it and trust the process.

The universe can’t resist a vision backed by feeling and surrendered with faith.

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