From the Rain to the Table: My LA Times Festival of Books Story

Last year, I went to the LA Times Festival of Books as someone writing a first draft I wasn’t even sure I would do anything with.

I remember standing there in the rain, looking at all the authors and everything around me, and thinking to myself, I wonder if one day I’ll get a chance to sell this story I’m working on here. I didn’t overthink it. I just tucked that thought away.

The very next day, I typed “THE END” on my first draft of The Devil & The Details.

Fast forward a year later, and somehow, I was there as an author.

As someone from LA, I’ve always known about the Festival of Books. I had even attended before. But this time was different. This time, I wasn’t walking through it. I was part of it.

I had the opportunity to be there as a local signing author with In Bloom Bookery, and I’m so thankful for that team. They were incredible to work with and made the entire experience even more special.

What stayed with me the most were the readers. The ones who came by just to say hi because they had already read it. The ones who told me how much they enjoyed it. The ones who were in the middle of reading and wanted a signed copy.

I’m also excited for the new readers who picked it up. I’m so happy they are now part of my reader community. That part means more to me than I can fully explain.

It’s wild to sit here now and think about how that idea turned into something real. Not just something I completed, but something people are actually connecting with.

And now, I’m finishing the sequel, The Devils We Know.

So I can’t help but wonder, next year, will I be back with both?

We’ll see. 💜

Why I Named The Dangerous Comfort Series — Dangerous Comfort in RelationshipsThat’s it.

I didn’t name this series lightly.

For a long time, I struggled to explain what my stories were really about. They’re romances, yes. They’re emotional, intense, and deeply character-driven. But underneath the chemistry, the longing, the connection—there was always something else humming beneath the surface. Something quieter. Something more unsettling.

It took me a while to realize the throughline.

Comfort can be dangerous.

Not the obvious kind. Not the kind that screams or threatens or announces itself. The dangerous kind is subtle. It feels safe. Familiar. Warm. It looks like love. It looks like stability. It looks like being chosen.

And that’s where it gets tricky.

In The Devil & The Details, Bethany isn’t pulled into something dark because she ignores her instincts or makes reckless choices. She’s pulled in because what she’s offered feels like relief. Like rest. Like finally being able to exhale after surviving something hard.

That kind of comfort doesn’t raise alarms. It lowers them.

Dangerous comfort is the relationship that makes you feel protected, so you stop questioning.

It’s the connection that feels so good, so consuming, that small uneasiness gets explained away.

It’s the safety that slowly becomes structure—and then expectation—and then control.

And you don’t see it happening while you’re inside it.

That’s the part that mattered to me.

So many stories about relationships focus on red flags as something obvious—something you should have noticed if you were paying attention. But that’s not how it works in real life. At least, not most of the time. Most of the time, the danger isn’t obvious. It’s wrapped in affection. In desire. In consistency. In someone showing up for you when you’re vulnerable.

Comfort isn’t always earned. Sometimes it’s offered strategically. Sometimes it’s offered too early. Sometimes it feels like rescue.

And when you’ve been through silence, loss, or survival, rescue feels like love.

The Dangerous Comfort Series exists to explore that space—the gray area where love, safety, and control overlap. Where chemistry complicates clarity. Where being chosen feels intoxicating. Where walking away feels harder than staying, not because you’re trapped, but because you’re attached.

These stories aren’t about villains twirling mustaches or heroes who are obviously flawed. They’re about people. About relationships that make sense from the inside, even when they’re devastating in hindsight. They’re about the things we overlook because the connection feels worth it.

They’re also about resilience.

Because dangerous comfort doesn’t define the end of the story. Awareness does. Survival does. Reclaiming yourself does.

I wanted a series name that acknowledged that duality—that comfort can soothe and endanger at the same time. That love can feel like refuge and restraint. That sometimes the thing that keeps you still is the same thing that once made you feel safe.

That’s why this series isn’t called The Dangerous Love Series or The Dark Romance Series. It’s not love that’s the problem. It’s comfort without awareness. It’s safety without space. It’s intimacy without autonomy.

The danger is never the feeling itself.

It’s what we give up to keep it.

If you’ve ever stayed because leaving felt harder than staying.

If you’ve ever ignored unease because the connection felt too important to lose.

If you’ve ever looked back and realized the signs only made sense once you were free—

Then you already understand The Dangerous Comfort Series.

These stories aren’t here to judge. They’re here to sit with you in that recognition and say:

You’re not alone. And you’re not wrong for wanting comfort.

You just deserve the kind that doesn’t cost you yourself.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year. I’m heading into 2026 feeling really grateful, a little overwhelmed (in a good way), and honestly excited about what’s coming next.

The first quarter of this year is already busy with events, signings, and in-person moments that still feel surreal to even say out loud. I’ll be sharing dates as they happen, but just know there’s a lot happening early this year, and I can’t wait to connect with readers face to face.

On the writing side, I’m continuing work on The Devils We Know, which is set to release in October 2026. This book has been stretching me in ways I didn’t expect, and I’m letting it take the time it needs. There’s also a special surprise coming later this year — something I’ve been quietly working on that I’m really excited about sharing when the time is right.

I’m also looking forward to being featured in a podcast interview in February, where I’ll be talking about writing, this journey, and what it actually looks like to put a book into the world and keep going.

Thank you for being here, for reading, for showing up, and for supporting this work in ways big and small. 2026 already feels like a year of momentum, and I’m taking it one step at a time.

— Kelly