Writer. Overthinker.
Wannabe Tea Drinker.
piece by piece
On Shelves January 27, 2026!
If things are “just things,” why does it hurt so deeply when we lose them? A soulful and heartfelt memoir, Piece by Piece offers a unique take on loss through the lens of stolen objects and empowers readers to take charge of their own legacies.
A well-crafted, touching reminder of the power of prized memories. – Kirkus Reviews
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Praise for Piece by Piece
A work of appreciative reflection. Indeed, the book focuses on the loved ones and personal milestones that gave the stolen jewelry meaning—the memories that were Danielson’s real treasures.
– Foreword Reviews
This is a book about collecting, not just things, but the stories they contain, reminding us that what’s precious isn’t always what we inherit, but what we create from the fragments left behind.
– Joselin Linder, author of The Family Gene: A Mission to Turn My Deadly Inheritance into a Hopeful Future
Poignant, tender, and full of hope, this memoir will leave you reflecting on what we leave behind, and what we pass on.
– Mary Adkins, author of Palm Beach and You Might Feel a Little Pressure
The stories in Piece by Piece underlie the true value of a person’s precious objects, as punctuations of their triumphs and struggles. Danielson utilizes the jewelry she lost as a vehicle to reflect on a life deeply felt and fully lived. Piece by Piece is a reminder of why humans have always adorned themselves, as proof of our existence and symbols of connection.
– Ashley Davis, jewelry journalist
Five Things I’d Tell You
- I write about objects, but really I’m writing about connection.
- My best ideas show up in the shower. My worst problems show up in the middle of the night.
- I’ve fully embraced middle age with my 40 oz Stanley cup and weighted vest.
- I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the Northern Lights—God’s kaleidoscope.
- I find inspiration everywhere: alongside a running trail, in Taylor Swift’s lyrics, halfway through a Peloton class, and from the backseat chatter during my kids’ soccer carpools.
The Unexpected Sacred
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