She grew up barefoot on cracked linoleum, hand-me-down dreams and a mama cryin’ in the kitchen. Small town lights felt like a cage, so one Greyhound night she kissed the porch goodbye and chased the sunset all the way to the Pacific.

This is her story, (and a little of mine) sung raw and unapologetic: from trailer park tears to penthouse champagne, from “yes ma’am” to “yes, I run this town.” Glitter, grit, and every hard won diamond in between.

She left with nothing but a suitcase and a fire in her soul…and came back (in her own mind) wearin’ a crown nobody could take away.