You know that moment when you're reading a story that's pulling you in and then suddenly there's a big, bright button that basically screams "OKAY, STORY TIME'S OVER, TIME TO BUY SOMETHING"?

Yeah, for years, my emails and blogs looked like that

“Story, story, story → Check out the tool I use" ↓ story, story...

It worked. Sometimes. People clicked. Some even bought.

But after a while, the shift felt too.... abrupt. It interrupted the content. Breaking the flow.

The Button Promised Safety

Everyone said buttons were "best practice." High contrast, clear call-to-action, impossible to miss. The logic made sense: if people don't see the link, they can't click it. Make it obvious. Make it big. Make it unmissable.

So I did. I put buttons everywhere. In the middle of blog posts. At the end of emails. Sometimes two or three times in the same piece of content, just to make sure nobody could possibly miss the opportunity to click.

And you know what? People were treating my content like a transaction. Click or don't click. Buy or leave.

Nobody was staying with the content. Nobody was letting the story land.

Like one time when I was writing a blog post about how I'd finally figured out a content workflow that didn't make me want to hide under my desk. Real, vulnerable stuff. The kind of story where I was sharing the actual moment things shifted for me, and I got to the part where I mentioned the AI course that changed everything for me and added a button template I always used. The big teal one with rounded corners. "LEARN MORE."

But as I was re-reading it, it was messing up my rhythm. I didn't want to turn a moment of connection into a sales pitch.

So instead, I just wove the link into the sentence. "sitting on my couch in sweatpants finally understanding that content creation didn't have to be complicated."

Natural. Conversational. Like I was telling a friend about something that helped me.

And the responses were exciting.

They weren't "thanks, I bought it" messages. They were conversations.

People were responding to the story, not just reacting to the offer. Many of them clicked the link anyway. They went and checked it out for themselves. Some bought it right then. Some bought it days later after we'd talked more.

But the difference was in how it felt. They didn't feel sold to. They felt like I trusted them enough to share something that mattered to me, and they could take it or leave it.

This Isn't About Never Using Buttons

Let me be clear: I'm not telling you buttons are evil or wrong or that you should delete every button you've ever used.

Buttons absolutely have their place. Sometimes they make sense and are exactly what your content needs.

What I am saying is don't let "best practices" override your instincts about what serves your reader.

If you're writing a listicle with ten product recommendations, sure, buttons work great there. If you're creating a resource page or a straightforward review, buttons might be the right choice.

But if you're telling a story? If you're sharing something vulnerable or real or deeply personal? If you're trying to build the kind of trust that turns readers into community? Maybe a button isn't the best thing to use in that moment are at the very least, use it at the end of your content.

Consider whether that button is helping you connect or helping you hide behind marketing tactics because that's what you were told.

How I did it

When you embed your links naturally within your content, something different happens. The recommendation becomes part of the story, not a detour from it.

I understood that people don't resist text links the same way they resist buttons. Buttons feel like exits. They're in the middle of reading your email and then click on a link to your favorite coffee mug, not caring about reading the rest of it. Text links feel like you're extending the curiosity. To invite them to follow your narrative to its natural next chapter.

Here's how:

> Mention the product the same way you'd mention it to a friend. Not in a separate "here's the thing I'm selling you" section, but woven into the actual narrative of what you're sharing.

Instead of saying: "I struggled with digital planning for months. Then I found this." [Link Goes Here]

Write it like this: "My cousin who does exterior cleaning (pressure washing, soft washing, window & gutter cleaning) asks what CRM do I use when it came to planning my day to day as a solopreneur. I told him I started off with a physical book, but that didn't get used after a week. So I switched to digital planning since I'm always on my phone."

The affiliate link? On the phrase "So I switched to digital planning since I'm always on my phone."

Not directly mentioning the product name once.

Hidden in plain sight.

> Let people come back to it. You don't have to close the sale in that moment. If your story is compelling and your recommendation is genuine, they'll remember. They'll click later. They'll reach out and ask questions. Trust that.

> Don't hide the fact that it's an affiliate link. I still disclose that I earn a commission. I just do it naturally. "I'm an affiliate for this course, which means I earn a small commission if you purchase through my link" fits just fine in a conversational email without needing a button or a separate section.

Reflection + Action: Your Invisible Sale Audit

You’ve probably got at least one button right now that’s shouting “BUY ME!”

Here’s your two-step experiment for today:

1. Pull up your latest blog post or email.​
Find one spot where you’re using a bold button or obvious affiliate link. Stop thinking about where to place your call-to-action, and start thinking about where your reader's curiosity naturally peaks. That's where the link goes.

Instead of:

Try:

Then link the entire sentence starting from 'And'.

2. Read your rewrite out loud.

If it sounds like a pitch, keep sanding the edges until it feels invisible.
If it sounds like something you’d naturally say to a friend, you’ve nailed it.