A heartfelt country rock ballad that started as a love letter to my daughter but turned into something bigger: a song for anyone who's ever loved deeply and had to let go.

Midnight Dreams is about those quiet midnight moments when memories come rushing in: the laughter, the fights, the way it felt when everything was right… and the ache when it’s gone. It’s not just loss, it’s gratitude for what was, hope for what’s ahead, and the kind of love that never really leaves you.

Whether you’re missing a partner, a parent, or just a chapter of your life.

Turn it up when you need to feel it all… and know you’re not alone.

A fun one I wrote... I used to be a country line dancer and instructor.

A high energy country rock anthem built to clear the barstools and fill the dance floor.

This one's for every woman who's earned her silver threads but still knows how to turn heads, mamas who've raised families, bosses who've held it all together, and wives who can still make their man's heart race after twenty plus years.

Friday night lights, boots hitting wood, hips moving like the years never touched her fire.

It's fun, it's flirty, it's empowering—real life celebration of the woman who owns the night without apology.

If you've ever grabbed your partner and said "one more dance," this song is for you.

Turn it up, stomp those boots, and own the floor.

Hey y’all… it’s me again, here in the quiet hours.

Tonight, I want to talk about the song that’s very close to my heart—Silver Threads of Love.

I wrote this one late one evening, sitting on my porch with an old notebook and a glass of red wine. I’d been thinking about my grandparents… about couples I’ve watched grow old together… about the kind of love that doesn’t make the headlines but outlasts everything else.

You know the kind—the love that’s been through job losses and hospital rooms, through kids leaving home and money being tight, through arguments at 3 a.m. and making up before sunrise. The love that shows up in the lines on a face, in the silver catching the light when the sun hits just right.

The chorus came to me first: “Silver threads of love, shining through the gray…” I wanted it to say that getting older, earning those lines and that silver—it isn’t losing anything. It’s proof. Proof you loved hard enough, long enough, to be marked by it.

This isn’t a song about perfect love. It’s about real love. The kind that’s been tested and still chooses to stay. The kind that looks at a face it’s known for decades and still feels that pull.

If you’re listening tonight and you’ve got someone who’s seen you at your worst and stayed anyway… this one’s for you.

If you’ve lost someone and still feel them in the quiet moments… this one’s for you too.

Because those silver threads? They don’t break. They just shine brighter with time.

Thank you for letting me share this one with you. Play it loud… or play it soft. Either way, I hope it feels like home.

This is Dixie Heat… and this is Silver Threads of Love.

Hey y’all…

This song you just heard, “Broken Roads to You”... it’s not one I wrote for the charts. It’s the one I wrote in the midnight hours in my bedroom, tears hitting the page while the house slept.

My oldest… the boy who used to ride on my hip while I stirred dinner… the one who reached out to me on my birthday in 2015 after years of estrangement…  he’s grown now.

Tall, quiet, stubborn. This Holiday season I watched him fall in love for real. Not puppy love. The kind that makes a man choose every day to be better.

Most days, I would stand in the background, pretending to be busy, but really just watching them. The way he reached for her hand without thinking. The way she laughed at his terrible jokes and lit up the whole room. The way they argued sometimes, we argue sometimes—respectful, real—then make up…. They acted like two people who actually choose each other.

One night I saw him open the car door for her, same way I taught him prior to my active addiction years when he was young, and she looked at him like he hung the moon.

Something in my chest cracked wide open. Because I know what it feels like to grow up thinking love might leave.

To carry invisible bruises from folks who were supposed to stay.

And here was my boy… choosing to love somebody safe. Every single day.

So I wrote this for them. For every mile of bad roads they’ve walked alone. For every fear they’re brave enough to say out loud. For the nights they fight, and the mornings they wake up and still choose “us.” It’s my quiet way of saying: You’re doing it right, babies. You’re breaking every curse I was scared would follow our bloodline. You’re building something real in a world that keeps trying to sell us fake.

And if you’re listening tonight and you’ve ever felt abandoned… or not enough… or like love was always one foot out the door… this one’s for you too.

Because these two kids? They’re proof that healing looks like showing up. Every damn day.

This is My love letter to my son and the girl who taught him how to stay. And to every single one of you still brave enough to love out loud.

Turn it up. Let it wreck you a little. Then go call somebody and tell them you’re still choosing them.

I love y’all. See you down the road.

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.

Some songs don’t just play; they reach inside your chest and squeeze until you remember every apology you never got to say.

This is one of those.

A lonely woman, me, twenty Christmases without her, daughter’s laugh, family doors bolted shut by decades of grudges and the ghost of a past soaked in addiction.

I am clean now, I have changed, I am begging; but forgiveness never came.

Slow, haunting, and so raw it hurts to breathe: just a weathered female voice, a weeping pedal steel, and the kind of heartbreak that only a mother who lost everything can sing.

If you’ve ever been the one shut out,if you’ve ever been the one who couldn’t forgive,if you’ve ever prayed for a second chance you’re terrified will never come; this song is going to find you exactly where you are.

Mirror, mirror on the wall—who’s the baddest of them all?

You are.

AI Singer Reagan Hollister (from Dixie Heat) steps up with red lips, killer heels, and confidence spilling like whiskey on fire.

She’s the vibe you chase but can never outdo—the queen who built her throne from the ground up and dares you to try and knock it down.

Big guitars, trap beats, and a chorus that hits like a crown drop.

This is the song you blast when you walk in and own every inch of the space.

The one you lip-sync in the mirror, film your boss-babe strut, and tag every woman who knows she’s fire.

No apologies. No holding back. Just pure, unfiltered queen energy.

Play it when you need to remember who runs the show.

Brand new from Dixie Heat on album Scars & Six Strings coming soon to Spotify Music, Amazon Music, Pandora, IHeartRadio, Apple Music, and others.

Y’all ever feel like you were born with a target on your back?

Like the world decided early on you were gonna be the one they tried to break?

I was.

A small town kid with big scars before I even knew what fightin’ meant. They talked, they judged, they counted me out before I could count myself in.

But here’s the thing they never understood... every ‘no,’ every sideways look, every door slammed in my face… it just added fuel to the fire that was already burnin’ inside.

This one’s for anybody who’s ever been told they’d never make it.

Anybody who turned their pain into power.

Anybody who’s still standin’ when the smoke clears.

Turn it up.

The Male Lead vocals by AI Singer Korb Seever (from Dixie Heat) soon to be released on Spotify Music, Amazon Music, Apple Music, Pandora, IHeartRadio, and other music platforms.

To every keyboard hater hiding behind a screen throwing shade… This one’s for you.

AI Singer Jett Knox (from Dixie Heat) steps up with that rebel fire, spitting truth over a beat that slaps harder than your comments ever could.

Scars as crowns. Pain as power. Haters as free fuel.

This is the song you blast when you post that glow-up mirror selfie.

The one you duet with your “they said I couldn’t” story. The one that turns every judgment into gasoline and every comeback into a flex.

Talk your talk. We’re too busy walking ours.

Drop your favorite scar story in the comments.

Dixie Heat just handed you the ultimate clap-back track.

Haters Gonna Hate (look at me now) — coming soon on Scars & Six Strings on Spotify Music, Amazon Music, IHeartRadio, Pandora, Apple Music, and others.

That old swing still creaks in the evening breeze, but the voices that used to fill it are quiet now.

The Porch is the song you play when you drive past the house you grew up in… when you pull out Grandma’s recipe box…when Grandpa’s favorite chair sits empty and the stories feel too heavy to carry alone.

The AI singers, Reagan Hollister and Aria Bodae (from Dixie Heat), sing it like they're sitting right there on those weathered boards, just enough to let the memories bleed through.

If you’ve ever lost a parent or grandparent who felt like your whole world… if you still talk to them when nobody’s listening… if you find their love in the wind, the rain, or the way the light hits the porch at dusk… this one’s for you.

Play it when you need to feel them close again.