When Restless Meets Routine
After nearly two decades of writing thrillers, I started getting itchy. Not tired, not out of ideas, but restless. I’d killed a lot of people in a lot of different ways—serial killers, deranged madmen, assassins, gang members—you name it. And as I sat at my desk, I had this thought: am I just writing another version of the same story?
The Temptation to Switch Genres
So I started thinking maybe I should switch genres. Maybe something new would shake things up. A fantasy, a sci-fi, hell, even a rom-com sounded fresh for about five minutes. But the longer I sat with that, the more I realized I wasn’t actually looking for a new genre—I was looking for a new rush.
Enter DarkBright
That’s how DarkBright happened. Abby Kane isn’t new, but what she’s up against this time is bigger, stranger, more cinematic. It’s not just a case; it’s a full-blown system of corruption and control—something that feels both real and impossible at the same time. Going back to the trilogy format gave me what I’d been missing: scale. Momentum. A slow burn that turns into a detonation.
Then Came The Little Sushi Chef
Then came The Little Sushi Chef. It’s the first series I’ve written that isn’t connected to the Abby Kane universe. No FBI, no assassins—just a young woman, a dream, and a very dark kitchen. It reminded me that thrillers aren’t just about who dies—they’re also about who survives.
Still Killing—Just Differently
Both stories pulled me back into what I love most: the what-if ideas. What if this existed? What if this actually happened? How far would someone go to live through it? That’s the stuff that keeps me writing.
So no, I didn’t leave thrillers. I doubled down on them. I made them mean more. The bodies still fall, but now every one of them leaves a mark.
Think you’ve seen every kind of thriller? Think again. The Little Sushi Chef takes everything you expect from the genre and slices it open. Step into Akiko’s kitchen—if you dare.