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*** DO NOT READ ALL OF THE PREVIEW PAGES OR IT WILL RUIN THE STORY! ***
Thirty-nine years in the FBI teaches you to trust the data, not the story people tell about the data. Lyn Miller retired knowing the difference.
His new neighbors on Beaumont Drive are friendly. Too friendly. They wave from driveways. They say exactly the right thing at exactly the wrong moment, and they look at the night sky the way people look at home.
Nothing Lyn can point to. Nothing that would hold up in a report. Just a quiet accumulation of details that his profiler's brain refuses to file under normal.
So he watches. He catalogs. He builds a case the way he was trained to build a case, methodically, patiently, and with the growing certainty that the truth, when it arrives, is going to be harder to explain than the anomalies. What starts as professional habit begins to look like something else entirely. His wife notices. His sleep suffers. The binoculars are always within reach.
How far will he go to get the answers he wants and needs? He no longer carries a badge. He no longer has the authority, the resources, or the legal cover that thirty-nine years afforded him. None of that seems to be slowing him down. The question is whether the man who spent a career on the right side of the law is willing to cross it for the truth.
Maybe it's one neighbor. Maybe it's all of them. Maybe a retired profiler with too much time and too sharp a mind is the only anomaly on the street. Or maybe he's right.
I Think My Neighbors Are Aliens is a literary sci-fi comedy-thriller that keeps you guessing long after the last page. It is a book about dry humor and deep questions, about the weight of old secrets, and about what it costs a man to need to know the truth more than he needs his own peace of mind.
For readers who like their big questions delivered with patience, wit, and a neighborhood where nothing is quite what it appears, including the man behind the binoculars.
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About the author
Steve Miller grew up in Roosevelt, Utah, a small town near the south slope of the Uintah Mountains where the horizons are wide, the nights are genuinely dark, and the sky above demands to be taken seriously. The Uintah Basin has a rich history of UAP and UFO sightings dating back decades, drawing scientists, investigators, and curious minds from around the world. Growing up in that kind of place has a way of shaping how a person thinks about what is and isn't possible.
It also shapes how seriously you take the accounts of people you trust.
Members of his warm network have their own UAP sighting experiences, firsthand and unambiguous. Not the kind of story that gets told once and forgotten, but the kind that stays because no one who was there has ever found a satisfying explanation for what they saw. Those accounts are not the plot of this book. But they are the reason the premise of this book never felt like a stretch.
I Think My Neighbors Are Aliens grew from a simple question: what would a man trained to read human behavior do if the behavior next door stopped reading as human? From that question came Lyn Miller, a retired FBI behavioral profiler with forty years of pattern recognition and nowhere productive to aim it. From Lyn came a neighborhood, a marriage, a decades-old secret, and eventually a set of questions about the universe that the author had been carrying long before he sat down to write.
Steve is a Christian, a husband, and a father. He believes the relationships that matter most are the ones that require the most of us. He also believes the universe is considerably larger, more ordered, and more intentional than most people are given permission to consider. This book is his attempt to give readers that permission without once telling them what to think.
