American Foundation for Suicide Prevention Fundraiser

Now through December 25th in addition to the wonderful efforts of  Tim Baughman, Eve Jacob, Tabitha, Sounds Nerdy, and our friends broadcasting the  podcast We Were (Kind of) A Big Deal in College . 100% of proceeds from Candy Apple Butterscotch and Novelties: A Collection of Unfinished Short Stories will go toward a donation to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

Thats right! 100% of all proceeds from now – December 25th 2018 will be donated to the AFSP. Kindle and paperback editions are eligible. During my Cyber Week Sales where you can receive Kindle copies of Candy Apple Butterscotch for FREE $1 for each download will be added to our collective donation.


“I was running. Fast and furious through a forest full of cotton candy pink pine trees. Running from what? I still wasn’t certain. Something in my mind was buzzing. The only thing I could think was to run. I heard a faint voice screaming in the distance, and a crash of glass falling to the floor. Suddenly I was rocketed out of my dream to the realization that the screams and glass I heard weren’t a product of my imagination; but my boyfriend flailing in a night terror.

Before I could get out of the way, he swung wildly in my direction and connected with my chest. I gasped for breath, instantly aware of the room and the man deeply entrenched in a subconscious flash back fighting for his life. I scrambled to escape his reach but before I could, he grabbed my arm and pinned me down, wrapping his hands tightly around my throat. A fire in his eyes that could be felt as well as seen in the dim light. I threw all of my strength into fighting for my life. I clawed at his hands, and my knee came up and connected with his chest hard knocking the wind out of him. Momentarily his grip tightened before he snapped out of his subconscious, and released me.

I rolled away from him as fast as I could. In my haste I fell from the bed coughing and gagging as I hit the floor. I lay there for a moment, catching my breath and waiting for him to settle back into sleep. When I heard the soft heavy breathing settle into a normal rhythmic pattern I pulled myself up off the floor and stumbled out of the bedroom into the bathroom. I stared in the mirror, examining my neck for bruises tears welling up in my eyes. I wasn’t afraid of the man I loved, but I was scared and concerned for him. He never remembered his night terrors and I couldn’t hold it against him. Still, part of me was wondering why I stayed with him. The scared teen girl who had inadvertently fallen for this battered, bruised, crazy, beautiful, intelligent, mysterious, captivating, and troubled man. I stood there staring blankly a few more moments before sleep returned to my eyes and I headed back to bed.

I climbed back under the covers, snuggled up to the now calmly sleeping man beside me and quietly whispered: “I’m still here. I love you.”

He only moaned in reply, rolled from his stomach to his back and softly began to snore. I shuffled away from him and turned my back as I wept softly into my pillow before settling back into sleep myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d cried myself to sleep in his bed, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let’s go back and start at the beginning, shall we?”

We meet Rebecca at the tender age of eight as she is exposed to the dark side of humanity for the very first time during the height of the late 90’s drug epidemic. The impact of which left her reeling many years later. Especially so when she entered the world of dating, and met a man who seemed to be a ghost from her past.

Follow along as Rebecca discovers her resilience after a haunting, abusive past. She not only survives, but thrives with an insurmountable sense of optimism, tenacity and hope.

Candy Apple Butterscotch: A Memoir

Available now!


Before she wrote her memoir Candy Apple Butterscotch, Rebecca MacCeile had a library full of dusty notebooks with long forgotten fictional tales. Each one of these short stories encompasses a different world, and different ideas. Most of them are light hearted, some of them are fantastical, and still some of them have echos of her own struggles as she used her creativity to cope with her undiagnosed PTSD. Take a peek into her raw private texts with Novelties: A Collection of Unfinished Short Stories, meet some of her most endearing characters and get a glimpse into the world of an author seeking to find the “one” story deemed good enough for the masses.

Novelties: A Collection of Unfinished Short Stories 

Available now!

Now Available


“I don’t like guns, and besides, what’s more scary? Some guy with a gun, or some guy running at you like a maniac with a sword?” Noah countered in response.

   I thought about it for a moment before replying, “Well, I guess you’re right. If some guy was running at me with a sword, I guess I would run away, but what if whoever is after you has a gun? Running at him with a sword isn’t going to stop a bullet, and why would you want to get right up next to someone to hurt him? Wouldn’t you rather be able to stop him from the top of the stairs instead of having to be right next to him?”

   “That’s not the point, Becca. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I’m trying to scare them into going away so I don’t have to hurt them. I just don’t like guns,” he said.

   “That’s stupid! Oh, here I am – crazy man with a sword. Hopefully I scare you enough that you don’t have the wits about you to shoot me,” I replied sarcastically, mocking both Noah and his reasoning with which I simply did not agree nor understand.

   “Becca, you just don’t understand,” Noah yelped, raising his voice.

   “Why? Why, Noah? What’s there to understand? Shoot someone from ten feet away and stop him, or chase him down the hallway with a sword? Come on, why would I NOT choose a gun?” I yelled back.

   “BECAUSE, Rebecca! You don’t know what it’s like to see someone get shot six times in the chest! To watch some guy get his balls shot off simply because it’s fun! To watch people laugh about it! I don’t like guns! Okay?” Noah roared.

   At that point, I realized my mistake and was immediately silenced. Noah was lying completely still and breathing heavily. I immediately snuggled up under his arm and apologized. “I’m so sorry, Noah. I didn’t realize,” I said, my voice cracking as tears welled up in my eyes.

   He didn’t respond right away, but he pulled me close and wrapped his arm around me. We lay there in silence for what seemed like forever until he finally said, “It’s okay. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

   We continued to lie there together until we fell asleep. Soon, though, I awoke to the rawest expression of fear I have ever seen or heard. A scream came from Noah that I can’t even begin to describe. He started to shake and flail, as if he were fighting for his life.

   “Oh, God. Please! Please! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” he wailed at the top of his lungs. Tears began to stream down his face. I dodged several punches and threw myself atop him, screaming his name, trying to wake him to save him from whatever hell he was enduring in his dream.

   “Noah! Noah! It’s okay! No one is trying to kill you. It’s okay! Wake up!” I yelled, holding him down as gently as I could to keep him from hurting himself. I screamed into his face and finally he stopped. He didn’t wake up so much as he stopped dreaming. His breathing slowly returned to normal and his eyes briefly fluttered open.

   “Becca?” he mumbled, reaching up through my embrace to wipe the sweat and tears away from his eyes.

   “I’m here. That was a really intense dream, sweetheart. Are you okay?” I asked, sitting up and rolling back to my side of the bed.

   He only coughed to clear his throat and replied with a barely audible, “Okay,” before he rolled over onto his stomach and immediately fell back to sleep.

   It was the single worst night terror I ever saw from him. The others were intense, but brief and short lived. This one seemed to last forever, coupled with screaming and sobbing. I was shaken almost as if I had experienced it myself. I sat and stared across the room, trying to steady my own erratic breathing and heart rate before returning my attention to Noah. I placed my hand gently on his shoulder and he flinched, mumbled and quickly rolled over onto his back.

   “Shhh. It’s okay. I’m sorry. It’s just me. It’s just Becca.” I whispered, hoping to stave off another nightmare.

   “Mmmhmm. Come here,” Noah mumbled, extending his arm.

   I cautiously wiggled my way over under the blankets and laid my head onto his shoulder, resting comfortably under the crook of his arm as he gave me a gentle squeeze.

   “I love you. Are you okay?” I asked.

   “Love you,” he quietly replied before he fell back into a deep, complete sleep.”

To read more about Rebecca and Noah’s relationship you can purchase Candy Apple Butterscotch: A Memoir on Amazon. Kindle and paperback editions available now. Audiobook coming soon!


Copyright R. MacCeile 2018