In addition to releasing “The Ghosts Between Us”, my co-written novel with K. Evan Coles was released! It’s the second book in The Speakeasy series. The books in the series can be read as standalone stories, but if you haven’t read the first book and you’d like to, here is some more information about “With a Twist“! If you’ve been eagerly waiting for Cam and Jesse’s story, here it is! Title: Extra Dirty Author Name: K. Evan Coles and Brigham Vaughn Tagline: Love, served extra

Somehow in the excitement of “The Ghosts Between Us” being released, I forgot to blog about it. Whoops? But if you did miss the news, the book is now live on Amazon and available on KU/Kindle. Title: The Ghosts Between Us Author Name: Brigham Vaughn Tagline: From Loss, A New Beginning Series: The West Hills (Book 1) While the stories in this series are connected, each book features a new couple and can be read as a stand-alone. Summary: Dr. Christopher Allen knows how to deal

If it feels like I’ve been teasing you with promises of this book for years, it’s because, well, I have. Somewhere about five years ago, the idea for it popped into my head. I jotted a few things down and then went on to work on other projects. Slowly, over that time, I’ve worked on the story. I did it in fits and starts as I struggled with it. First titled, “In Mourning” it slowly morphed into a massively long novel that explores grief, family, relationships, and love. To be

“It’s impossible that Johnny’s gone.” Maureen shook her head, her voice thick. “I mean, we just left the funeral and I keep expecting him to pop up and yell ‘surprise!’.” Her laugh sounded hollow. “No shit.” Freddie slumped on the bed and took another drink. “I wonder how many of these people actually knew him.” He gestured to the closed door that muffled the sounds of the people who filled the house he’d shared with Johnny. Maureen shrugged. “Probably most of them. Johnny wa

The leaves crackled under Angela’s feet as she left the paved path that wound through the gravestones. A sharp November wind snaked under the hem of her jacket and down her collar as she clutched a blanket and a book to her chest. She should have put on the royal blue knitted scarf that Michael had given her, but she couldn’t bear the sight of it. Not today. November ninth. She hated the day. For the first few years she’d worked on the anniversary of Michael’s death, throwing