I didn’t grow up dreaming about roadside assistance or digital marketing. It was more like going to the Olympics for swimming like Michael Phelps. But sometimes life hands you a story you never expected—and asks you what you’re going to do with it.

I was 32 when everything changed. Twenty six days into a marriage, raising a young son, and working night shifts drawing blood for the police department. That’s when we got the call—my brother had taken his own life.

He left behind a struggling roadside assistance company ( 1 Road Star) and a daughter. And in the middle of our grief, my husband and I were asked:

“Will you keep it going?”

We didn’t know the first thing about cars. I couldn’t even change my own oil. But we said yes.

Not because it made sense.

Not because we were ready.

But because we couldn’t let his work—and his memory—disappear.

We figured it out the hard way.

Junkyards became classrooms. YouTube became our instructor. Trial and error was our curriculum. I’d take roadside calls after sleepless nights. I’d answer the phone when I didn’t want to. And in the middle of all of it, I was pregnant—changing tires and unlocking cars with my belly growing every week.

That season taught me more about grit than anything else in my life. It also showed me what it means to carry on someone’s legacy with everything you have.

But over time, the business took its toll. After five years, we made the hard decision to close it. And even though I shut the doors, I walked away with something else....clarity.

See, I watched my brother struggle—not because he didn’t have drive, but because he didn’t have support. He didn’t know how to get the extra calls he needed. He felt invisible at times even when he was everywhere running calls. And I carried a heavy guilt that I couldn’t help him when it mattered most.

That guilt became a seed.

A couple of years later, I was sitting in my room, laptop open, watching a video about starting a marketing agency—and suddenly, it all clicked.

What if I became the person my brother needed?

What if I could help business owners be seen, grow, and thrive—without the gimmicks, the noise, or the lies?

So I started my agency. Not to become the next flashy marketer. But to create something rooted in truth. To be the person asking " How can I help.?"

At first, I worked with a mentor who taught me the technical side. But when I saw the bait-and-switch tactics being taught, I walked away. I believed then—and I believe now—that you can build a business with honesty, transparency, and heart.

And I wasn’t alone. A small group of us who’d been burned joined forces and figured out how to do it the right way. Together, we built agencies that honor people—not just sell to them.

Now, I help entrepreneurs who feel stuck, overlooked, or unsure of how to grow—because I know what it feels like to carry something that matters and not know how to move it forward.

This agency was built out of loss. But it lives through purpose.

Because no one deserves to feel invisible.

Not my brother.

Not you.

Not anymore.