Teri Busse | Updates

Barb Lundy Memorial Scholarship

Teri Busse — Wed, 7 Oct 2026 00:00:00 +0000

I'll be joining fellow Colorado Authors League members at Barnes & Noble in Denver on Saturday, October 10, for a special book signing and fundraiser supporting the Barb Lundy Memorial Scholarship!

This event helps support aspiring young Colorado writers, with proceeds funding prizes for young short-story authors.

📍 Barnes & Noble

960 S. Colorado Boulevard, Denver, CO

📅 Saturday, October 10, 2026

🕙 Event runs 10 AM–4 PM

I'll be there meeting readers and signing books until approximately 2 PM!

Can't attend? You can still support the fundraiser by shopping at Barnes & Noble in-store or online that day using voucher code 12962239 at checkout.

Come say hello, discover some wonderful Colorado authors, and help encourage the next generation of writers! ❤️📚

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International Impact Book Awards: Author of the Year Awards | Hollywood, CA

Teri Busse — Fri, 2 Oct 2026 00:00:00 +0000

October 12, 2026 — International Impact Book Awards: Author of the Year Awards | Hollywood, CA

13 Days of Silence: The Murder of Rylee James — 2026 Author of the Year nominee, True Crime

Note: I will not be attending in person, but 13 Days of Silence remains in consideration for the award.

That way when you look back at your calendar, it documents what the date actually represents rather than making it look like you're scheduled to be in Hollywood. And yes — Author of the Year, not Book of the Year. You've got enough damn awards and competitions floating around now that I don't blame you for mixing them up. 😂

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13 Days of Silence Living In The After Podcast

Teri Busse — Mon, 10 Aug 2026 21:51:07 -0400

The podcast is officially live everywhere!

13 Days of Silence: Living in the After is about what happens after the thing that changes everything.

These are honest conversations with people who have lived through grief, trauma, loss, recovery, and life-altering experiences, and somehow figured out how to keep moving forward. Not because everything gets tied up neatly, but because life keeps going, and eventually we learn how to live in the after.

New episodes drop on the 1st and 15th of every month and are available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Have a story of your own, or know someone whose story deserves to be heard? I’d love to hear from you.

Listen wherever you get your podcasts , including Spotify, You Tube, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, Audible, iHeartRadio, Pocket Casts, Castbox, Goodpods & Overcast.

Link to YouTube

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A New Book Is Taking Shape: Stop Saying No for Them

Teri Busse — Mon, 27 Jul 2026 19:16:30 -0400

Every book starts with a question.

Lately, I've found myself wondering how many opportunities we lose before anyone else has the chance to tell us no. We talk ourselves out of applying, asking, creating, speaking, or trying, not because we've been rejected, but because we've already rejected ourselves.

That's the idea behind my next nonfiction project, Stop Saying No for Them.

It's still in development, but this is one of the projects I'm most excited about. Through psychology, personal stories, and research, I'll be exploring why we hold ourselves back and how we can stop making decisions that were never ours to make.

As the manuscript grows, I'll be sharing updates, behind-the-scenes progress, and milestones here.

Because the worst "no" you'll ever hear may be the one you gave yourself.

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Norway Invitation

Teri Busse — Mon, 13 Jul 2026 13:20:11 -0400

What started as a mother's story became a book. That book became a screenplay. And now that screenplay has earned a place on the international stage.

I'm incredibly honored to be invited to Oslo, Norway this December as a Finalist at the International Indie Screenplay Festival and to attend the Ardélion Awards Gala 2026.

When Silence Never Ends was written to give a voice to families still searching for answers and to remind the world that some stories deserve to be told—no matter how difficult they are.

I have no idea what December 14 will bring, but I do know this: dreams grow when you stop deciding "no" for yourself.

I will not be attending the event... but I will be watching it live from the comfort of my recliner!

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Featured Article in Influential Women Magazine

Teri Busse — Mon, 13 Jul 2026 13:02:05 -0400

Stop Deciding “No” for Other People

Published by Influential Women, this personal essay explores the opportunities we lose when we reject ourselves before anyone else has the chance to say yes. Through her own journey from paramedic to author, screenwriter, and podcast host, Teri shares why learning to "cast the net wide" became one of the most important lessons of her life.

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Podcast Feature: Matcha It – My Conversation About Rylee

Teri Busse — Mon, 13 Jul 2026 09:35:31 -0400

I recently had the privilege of joining the Matcha It podcast to share Rylee's story and the journey that followed.

In this conversation, we talk about the events that inspired 13 Days of Silence, the reality of navigating unimaginable loss, and what it means to keep moving forward when life changes forever. We also discuss grief, recovery, widowhood, resilience, and the purpose I've found in advocating for others who are living through their own seasons of silence.

If you've read my books, or if you're just getting to know my story, this episode offers a more personal, behind-the-scenes look at the experiences that shaped both my writing and my mission.

🎧 Listen to the episode below.

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Featured Story- Inside The Crown Magazine

Teri Busse — Tue, 07 Jul 2026 19:35:57 -0400

Inside The Crown is the signature magazine of Miss United Crown of America. Created to inspire, uplift and celebrate titleholder journeys.

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for this honor and recognition. 🥹👑

This journey has brought me so much more than I ever expected, and I can say with 100% certainty that Rylee's story would not have reached as far as it has without the platform—and the microphone—that United Crown of America has given me.

The crown may be what people see first, but the opportunity to use my voice, speak about grief, loss, resilience, and the lives we refuse to let be forgotten has meant everything to me.

I am incredibly humbled to have my story featured in Inside the Crown, and so grateful to be part of a system that truly allows its queens to stand for something bigger than themselves.

Thank you for giving me the microphone. I promise I won't waste it. ❤️👑

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When Silence Never Ends- Screenplay

Teri Busse — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 22:21:44 -0400

I wrote When Silence Never Ends in an attempt to better understand the thirteen days following my son's disappearance and murder. While 13 Days of Silence documented the facts, this screenplay allowed me to explore the uncertainty, rumors, unanswered questions, and emotional reality of living through those days.

This project was never about finding closure. In many ways, closure remains elusive. Instead, it became an opportunity to examine grief, resilience, and the lasting impact of unanswered questions through a different creative lens.

My first screenplay, When Silence Never Ends is inspired by true events and adapted from my true crime memoir, 13 Days of Silence: The Murder of Rylee James.

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Chaos to Crown Preview.

Teri Busse — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 21:34:04 -0400

A Note From the Author

I had every intention of having this book finished by the five-year anniversary of my sobriety. 6/29/21

Clearly, It's not going to happen.

What you're holding (or looking at) is not the finished book. It's a preview.

A work in progress.

The beauty of owning my own publishing company is that I get to do things a little differently. Instead of waiting until every chapter is finished, I get to share part of the journey with you.

Inside you'll find the opening chapters of Chaos to Crown and a glimpse of where the story is headed.

The finished book is still coming. It deserves the same care, editing, and attention that I gave my previous work.

Until then, thank you for taking an early look at what's next.

Apparently, recovery taught me a lot of things.

Patience is still a work in progress.

— Teri Busse

Chapter 1

How Did We Get to This Before-and-After Picture?

The first time I put these two photographs side by side, I stared at them for a long time.

Not because I couldn’t believe they were both me.

I could.

There’s roughly seventy pounds and five years of recovery between those two images. I lived every bit of it.

What those pictures don’t show is everything that came before them, everything that happened between them, and the woman sitting here now in sweatpants and a T-shirt trying to figure out how to put her voice on paper.

People see the crown and assume this is a success story.

People see the rehab picture and think here comes rock bottom.

The truth is neither photograph tells the whole story.

There are stories about EMS, addiction, bad decisions, grief, widowhood, recovery, showing up the best I could as a mom, losing my son to murder, a pageant, becoming an author, still worse decisions to come, and a few miracles along the way. Of course some of those stories are in this book. They have to be. But if I told every detail of every story, we’d be here for 500 pages, and honestly, nobody’s got time for that.

If this book has a purpose, it’s not to explain how I won a crown.

It’s not even really about how I got sober.

It’s about how a woman who spent most of her life surviving eventually learned there might be more to life than just making it through the day.

So, if you’re looking for a perfectly organized timeline, this isn’t that book.

Life didn’t happen in neat chapters.

Neither did grief.

Neither did addiction.

Neither did healing.

What follows is simply my attempt to make sense of it all.

Chapter 2

Before Alcohol

Before we go any further, I want to make something clear.

If you're looking for someone to blame for the decisions I made later, you're going to be disappointed.

My parents aren't on that list.

I wasn't raised in a chaotic home.

I don't have some tragic childhood story that explains everything that came later.

In fact, I was a Gen X kid through and through.

My childhood was full of bikes, camping trips, scraped knees, family holidays, and enough freedom to give modern parents heart palpitations.

But before any of that, there was my entrance into the world.

After thirty-six hours of labor, I was born breech.

Ass first.

Depending on who you ask, that either explains absolutely nothing or everything.

Personally, I think it explains a lot.

Other than that dramatic entrance, there wasn't much excitement for a while.

Well, except for the time I drowned.

I was around five years old, and we were camping at Upsata Lake. Like most kids, I had been told to stay close to camp. Like most kids, I ignored that advice.

What I discovered was that mountain lakes don't always ease you into deeper water. Sometimes the bottom simply disappears.

One minute I was standing.

The next I wasn't.

Thankfully, somebody was paying attention.

I remember very little about being pulled from the water, but I do remember something strange.

A light.

Not angels.

Not heaven.

Not deceased relatives welcoming me to the other side.

Just a light.

The closest thing I can compare it to is one of those old televisions when you turned it off and the screen collapsed into a tiny dot before disappearing completely.

As a child, I never thought much about it.

As an adult with a medical background, I suspect it had more to do with a lack of oxygen to my optic nerve than a glimpse into the afterlife.

A little rescue breathing, maybe a couple pumps on the chest, and apparently, I was good to go.

No ambulance.

No emergency room.

No trauma counseling.

We finished the camping trip.

I probably got my butt spanked for wandering off, although I honestly don't remember. It just seems historically accurate.

Like I said, Gen X through and through.

The truth is, my childhood wasn't defined by near-drownings any more than it was defined by being born breech.

Even though I like to think "kiss my ass" is literally in my DNA.

It was defined by family.

My parents, Dennis and Devera, had known each other almost their entire lives. They grew up across the street from one another. My dad was six years older than my mom.

After returning home from Vietnam, he married her while she was still in high school, not because they needed a shotgun wedding, but because they were in love.

My mom graduated with her married name.

From the beginning, they taught me something that would stay with me for the rest of my life:

Being unconventional was perfectly okay.

Coming January 2027

What you've just read is only the beginning.

The chapters that follow tell the story of how a girl from Montana became a paramedic, a widow, a mother navigating unimaginable loss, a recovering alcoholic, an author, a pageant contestant, and somehow the same person through all of it.

The details are still being finalized.

The chapter titles, however, are already telling on me.

Coming in the Full Edition

Chapter 3: How Do You Become Addicted to Being Seen?

Chapter 4: Death Became Normal

Chapter 5: Becoming a Widow

Chapter 6: Grief Pours Gasoline

Chapter 7: The Bottom

Chapter 8: Rehab

Chapter 9: The Life Waiting Outside

Chapter 10: Surviving Rylee

Chapter 11: Four More Months

Chapter 12: Choosing Myself

Chapter 13: Normal Is Harder Than It Looks

Chapter 14: The Cost of Control

Chapter 15: The Widow, the Alcoholic, and the Queen Became the Same Woman

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Rooted in Resilience™ Store

Teri Busse — Tue, 02 Jun 2026 21:56:02 -0400

Welcome to the Rooted in Resilience™ Store, where every item represents a simple but powerful belief: life's hardest chapters do not have to be the end of the story.

Rooted in Resilience™ was created to encourage honest conversations about grief, recovery, healing, personal growth, and the strength people discover when facing life's unexpected challenges. It is built on the understanding that resilience is not about being unbreakable. It is about continuing to grow, adapt, and move forward, even after experiencing loss, trauma, setbacks, or adversity.

The merchandise found here is more than apparel and accessories. Each piece serves as a reminder that resilience is not a destination but a lifelong journey. Whether you are rebuilding, recovering, healing, supporting someone you love, or simply navigating a difficult season, these items are designed to reflect hope, perseverance, and the courage to keep going.

Thank you for supporting the mission of Rooted in Resilience™ and helping spread a message that people from all walks of life can relate to:

You are stronger than your worst day.

You are more than your hardest chapter.

And your story is not over.

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You Didn't Choose to Compartmentalize - But It Isn't Healing Either

Teri Busse — Thu, 8 Oct 2026 00:00:00 +0000

You did not sit down one day and decide to become good at putting things away.

The job decided for you.

The call came in.

You moved.

You assessed the scene, made decisions, used your training, protected the patient, protected your partner, protected the public, and did what needed to be done.

Then the call ended.

Maybe there was another one waiting.

Maybe there was paperwork.

Maybe there was a radio still talking.

Maybe there was a family at home expecting you to walk through the door and be present.

So you put it somewhere.

The image.

The sound.

The face.

The question you still cannot answer.

You put it somewhere because, in that moment, you had to.

Compartmentalizing helped you do the work

For many first responders, compartmentalizing is not a character flaw.

It is a skill.

It is the ability to shift your mind into task mode when someone is bleeding, when a child is not breathing, when a scene is unsafe, when a family is falling apart, or when a decision has to be made before you have time to feel anything about it.

You do not get to pause in the middle of a call and fully consider the weight of what is happening.

You do not get to say, “I need a few minutes to process this before I continue.”

The work does not wait.

So you focus.

You narrow your attention.

You become calm when everything around you is not calm.

That ability has saved lives.

It has helped you function in conditions that would overwhelm most people.

It has helped you come home.

The problem is not that you learned how to put things away.

The problem is that nobody taught you what to do with what you filed.

A box can protect you for a while.

A box can also become a storage room.

And eventually, something inside begins pushing against the door.

What compartmentalizing looks like

Compartmentalizing can look like being fine.

It can look like being the person everyone counts on.

It can look like laughing in the ambulance bay, finishing the report, grabbing food, and going home.

It can look like saying, “It was just part of the job.”

It can look like telling yourself:

“I did what I could.”

“I followed protocol.”

“It was not my family.”

“I have seen worse.”

“I cannot change what happened.”

Sometimes those things are true.

Sometimes they are the only explanation that allows you to keep moving.

But an explanation is not always the same thing as healing.

Research involving soldiers and first responders has found that compartmentalization can become closely connected with emotional numbing, justification, and rationalization.

These responses may help someone remain functional in the moment.

They may also leave the deeper wound untouched.

This is especially true when a call, a decision, a loss, or a betrayal does not fit neatly into the story you have been telling yourself.

You did your job.

You did what you were trained to do.

And still, someone died.

Still, someone was harmed.

Still, you could not reach everyone.

Still, the system failed someone.

Still, a person you trusted did something you cannot reconcile.

That is where the pain can become more than fear.

It can become guilt.

Shame.

Anger.

Grief.

A loss of meaning.

A loss of trust in yourself, in other people, or in the organization you once believed would stand behind you.

This is part of what researchers describe as moral injury.

It does not mean you are weak.

It does not mean you made the wrong choice.

It means something important inside you was affected by what you witnessed, did, could not do, or were asked to carry.

Compartmentalizing is not the same as healing

Healing requires some form of contact with what happened.

Not all at once.

Not in graphic detail.

Not in a way that forces you to relive every moment before you are ready.

But eventually, what has been stored needs somewhere to go.

Compartmentalizing says, “I will deal with this later.”

Healing asks, “Can I safely begin to understand what this has done to me?”

Those are different things.

One postpones.

The other begins to integrate.

That word may sound clinical, but the idea is simple.

Integration means the experience becomes part of your story without becoming the whole story.

It means you can remember what happened and still know who you are.

It means you can acknowledge that something hurt without deciding that the pain makes you defective.

It means you can say, “That changed me,” without believing, “That ruined me.”

The trouble is that later often does not arrive on a schedule.

It shows up in the middle of the night.

It shows up when your child asks an innocent question.

It shows up when your partner reaches for you and you feel nothing.

It shows up when a television scene hits too close.

It shows up when a small inconvenience produces a reaction that feels much bigger than the moment deserves.

The bill comes due later

The stored experience may begin to surface as irritability.

Or poor sleep.

Or drinking more than you intended.

Or feeling constantly on edge.

Or feeling almost nothing at all.

You may start snapping at the people you love because they are close enough to receive what you could not express anywhere else.

You may avoid crowds, conversations, gatherings, or people who ask too many questions.

You may find yourself reacting strongly to a smell, a sound, a date, a location, or a routine part of the day.

You may feel fine for weeks and then suddenly not feel fine at all.

This does not always mean that one specific call caused everything.

For many of us, it is the call plus everything else.

The accumulated losses.

The long shifts.

The divorce.

The injury.

The financial pressure.

The death of a colleague.

The investigation.

The retirement you did not choose.

The family member who does not understand why you are physically home but emotionally somewhere else.

A 2021 review of moral injury among firefighters, paramedics, and police officers found that public safety work can create painful conflicts between personal values, professional duties, organizational expectations, and the realities of emergency scenes.

A 2025 study of emergency responders identified several forms of lost trust: trust in other people, trust in oneself, and trust in authority.

That matters because trust is not repaired through silence.

Neither is grief.

Neither is moral pain.

You do not have to open every box at once

If you recognize yourself here, you do not have to tell someone everything today.

You do not have to start with the worst call.

You do not have to explain every detail.

You do not have to share anything private with a room full of strangers.

You can begin with one honest sentence.

“I think some of this is catching up with me.”

“I am not sleeping the way I used to.”

“I am angry, and I do not know what the anger is really about.”

“I feel disconnected from my family.”

“I keep saying I am fine, but I do not think I am.”

That sentence can be spoken to a trusted peer.

A chaplain.

A therapist who understands first-responder and military culture.

A spouse or friend who has earned the right to hear the truth.

The person does not have to fix it.

They need to be able to stay present without making you defend your reaction.

Peer support can be especially important because there is a difference between being heard and being translated.

Sometimes you need to speak with someone who understands the silence after the call, the humor, the language, the loyalty, and the reasons people in these professions are reluctant to ask for help.

That kind of support does not erase what happened.

It gives the experience somewhere to exist outside of you.

Unpacking is maintenance, not betrayal

You may worry that opening the box will make you less effective.

You may worry that feeling something means you will not be able to return to the job.

You may worry that talking about it betrays your crew, your unit, your badge, your uniform, or the people you were trying to protect.

I understand why that fear exists.

But unpacking is not a betrayal of the work.

It is maintenance.

You maintain the vehicle.

You check the equipment.

You replace what is worn out.

You clean what has been exposed to things it was never meant to carry indefinitely.

Your mind and body deserve the same attention.

The goal is not to remove every hard memory.

The goal is to stop allowing the hard memories to run your life from behind a closed door.

And if you are the person who loves someone in this work, please remember this:

Their distance may not be about you.

Their silence may not mean they do not care.

Their irritability may be covering fear, grief, shame, exhaustion, or a sense of failure they have never been able to name.

That does not mean you have to accept being hurt.

It does mean that compassion and boundaries can exist together.

You can say, “I love you, and I need us to find support for this.”

A small next step is still a step

You might begin by writing down what you notice.

When do you feel most shut down?

What makes you suddenly angry?

What helps you feel connected, even briefly?

Who feels safe enough to call?

You might make one appointment.

You might attend one peer-support meeting without speaking.

You might tell a trusted person that you are not ready to share details, but you do not want to carry everything alone anymore.

There is no prize for waiting until the box breaks open.

There is no shame in asking for help before the bill becomes unmanageable.

And there is no requirement that healing look dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like telling the truth.

Sometimes it looks like sleeping for a few hours.

Sometimes it looks like staying at the table instead of leaving the room.

Sometimes it looks like letting someone sit beside you while you remember.

You did not choose to compartmentalize.

You learned it because the work demanded it.

But what protected you then may not be enough to carry you now.

You can honor the skill and still decide that the stored things deserve care.

One box.

One conversation.

One honest breath at a time.

This article reflects lived experience and educational perspective. It is not medical or mental health treatment, and it is not a diagnosis. You never have to share private details before you are ready. If these experiences are affecting your safety, your relationships, your ability to function, or your desire to live, please contact a qualified mental health professional.

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United Crown of America National Gala

Teri Busse — Tue, 2 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

United Crown of America National Gala

August 2, 2026

Las Vegas, Nevada

Teri L. Busse will attend the United Crown of America National Gala as Miss Classic Colorado 2026.

Through her platform, Rooted in Resilience™, Teri advocates for resilience through writing, using storytelling to foster conversations about grief, recovery, trauma, healing, and personal growth. As an author, former paramedic, psychology student, and advocate, she believes that sharing our stories can help others feel seen, understood, and less alone.

The National Gala brings together titleholders from across the country to celebrate leadership, service, advocacy, and the positive impact women are making in their communities.

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International Impact Book Awards Banquet

Teri Busse — Tue, 2 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

✨ International Impact Book Awards Banquet ✨

I'm honored to be attending the International Impact Book Awards Banquet this August, where authors from around the world come together to celebrate stories that make a difference.

What started as a single manuscript written during some of the hardest moments of my life has grown into opportunities I never imagined. From publishing books to meeting readers, speaking about resilience, and now attending an international awards event, this journey continues to surprise me.

Whether I come home with an award or simply the experience, I'm grateful for every person who has read a book, shared a story, attended an event, or offered encouragement along the way.

Sometimes the biggest victories aren't the trophies. They're the reminders that our words can reach people we may never meet.

I'm looking forward to an unforgettable evening and celebrating the power of stories.

💛📚

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What is Wet?

Teri Busse — Wed, 15 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

A recent conversation left me thinking long after it ended.

While speaking with a group of young future leaders, one of the girls walked up to me afterward with a question that caught me completely off guard.

She smiled and asked, "What is wet?"

Not what is water. Not why is something wet. Just... what is wet?

I laughed and admitted that I didn't have a good answer.

We tossed around ideas. Is it the water molecules sitting on the surface? Is "wet" something we actually feel, or is it simply our brain interpreting the presence of liquid? If water is wet, is a single water molecule wet? Or does "wet" only exist when a liquid comes into contact with something else?

I finally told her, "You know what? I'm going to think about this one. Give me a couple of weeks, and I'll write about it."

So this post is for her, and for everyone else who enjoys questions that seem incredibly simple until you actually try to answer them.

Let's dive into one of the strangest questions you've probably never seriously considered:

So... what is wet?

Scientifically, something is wet when a liquid sticks to its surface.

That means:

Your shirt after walking in the rain? Wet.
A towel after drying off? Wet.
A countertop after you spill your coffee? Wet.

In each case, liquid is coating or clinging to the surface.

But... is water itself wet?

This is where the debate starts.

There are two common viewpoints:

Viewpoint 1 (the one most scientists favor):

Water is not wet. Water makes other things wet. "Wet" is a description of what happens when a liquid is on the surface of another object.

Viewpoint 2 (the philosophical argument):

If water molecules are touching other water molecules, then each molecule is in contact with liquid. By that logic, water could be considered wet because it's surrounded by more water.

Neither answer is completely ridiculous—it all comes down to how you define the word wet.

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Can't Make This Up-Podcast

Teri Busse — Wed, 8 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

Podcast Guest Appearance — Can't Make This Up Podcast

I will Join the Can't Make This Up Podcast as a live guest for Episode 4. The conversation will explore Teri's journey, her work as an author and storyteller, and the unexpected opportunities that came from learning to cast her net wide.

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Leavenworth Public Library

Teri Busse — Tue, 2 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

July 11, 2026

Leavenworth Public Library

Leavenworth, Kansas

2:00 PM – 4:00 PM

Featured title: 13 Days of Silence

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Rylee James Memorial Scholarship

Teri Busse — Mon, 6 Jul 2026 00:00:00 +0000

📚 DID YOU KNOW?!

When you purchase 13 Days of Silence: The Murder of Rylee James, along with the rest of my library you’re helping support the Rylee James Memorial Scholarship.

This scholarship assists students pursuing careers in the skilled trades through a welding program with campus locations in:

📍 McKinney, Texas

📍 Colorado Springs, Colorado

📍 Littleton, Colorado

Every book sold helps keep Rylee’s name alive while creating opportunities for others to build a future through education and hands-on training.

Because remembrance is important—but so is giving someone else a chance to write their next chapter. ❤️

Donate here➡️ https://buy.stripe.com/14AdR8gAT18G0a72vVbo40

Update**As of July 16, 2026 approximately 2700$ has been donated.

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The Unexpected Gift of Book Clubs

Teri Busse — Thu, 25 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

When I wrote 13 Days of Silence: The Murder of Rylee James, I had one simple goal.

I wanted my son’s story to continue being told.

Every book sold, every library copy borrowed, every person who read his name meant that Rylee was still being remembered. That was enough for me.

What I never expected was what happened after people finished the last page.

Book clubs began reaching out.

At first, I thought they simply wanted to discuss the book. Instead, I found myself sitting down with groups of thoughtful, compassionate people who wanted to ask deeper questions, not just about the investigation or the trial, but about grief, resilience, justice, and what it’s like to live through something no parent should ever experience.

Many are also curious about my perspective as a former corrections officer and paramedic. Those careers shaped the way I viewed the investigation, the courtroom, trauma, and even healing. They often lead to conversations I never anticipated having when I first sat down to write.

Some discussions have taken place over coffee at local book clubs. Others have happened through Zoom with readers hundreds, or even thousands, of miles away. In a way that completely surprised me, these conversations have become one of the most meaningful parts of this journey.

They’re never lectures.

They’re conversations.

For 30 to 45 minutes, I get to answer questions, listen to different perspectives, and connect with people who genuinely care, not just about Rylee’s story, but about the larger conversations surrounding loss, justice, and the human experience.

It has become one of my favorite parts of being an author.

If you’re part of a book club, or know someone who is, I would genuinely love the opportunity to join your discussion.

I even maintain a complimentary lending library of books for local clubs because this has never been about selling books.

It’s about preserving a legacy.

Every reader is another person who knows Rylee’s name. Every conversation keeps his story alive.

If your book club would be interested in reading 13 Days of Silence and having me join your discussion—in person when possible or by Zoom from anywhere in the world—I’d love to hear from you.

Please reach out and email me directly here

Teribusse@gmail.com

Thank you for helping make sure Rylee’s story continues to be heard.

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Barnes & Noble – Missoula

Teri Busse — Tue, 2 Jun 2026 00:00:00 +0000

June 13, 2026

Barnes & Noble – Missoula

Missoula, Montana

12:00 PM – 3:00 PM

Featured title: 13 Days of Silence

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