It's been three years since chef Erin shot her boyfriend, John, five times during a domestic dispute; two years since she was found not guilty on murder charges by way of self-defense, and one year since she opened Essen, a German restaurant in San Francisco's East Bay. You can read all about it in her memoir. There's a copy on the front seat of the car parked in front of Essen.

The man in the driver's seat was John's best friend, Alex. He’s taken justice into his own hands. What he doesn't know is that soon he'll be inside, using those hands to peel carrots for the girl who can cook.

I don't want to trick you into buying this book with the truncated spin of words above. I want you to buy this book because I believe in it. If the cover caught your eye, and you enjoy psychological thrillers, then I urge you to sample it and judge the quality for yourself. As an independent author, I am fighting an uphill battle for both legitimacy and visibility. Rightfully so, anyone can shove a book out into the Internet’s ether. I’ve chosen to put this out myself because I had a publisher tell me that I couldn’t succeed without them or some other machine behind me, no matter how good or bad my book. Help me prove them wrong, and may my punk rock ethos never die.

This is my debut novel, and I’m an unknown author. I don't have any quotes from famous friends. The New York Times won't return my calls, but I promise you, this book is worth your time and your money. It’s about all of us. It's about ramen noodles. And impractical love. And loss. And the way we each carry our past in different ways. It’s dark and comic and weird and brutal, and I hope you love it.