the forgiving kind by Donna Everhart
I remember getting a present one year through the mail. It came after we’d left Michigan to come back home to North Carolina when my Dad decided being threatened with a beating when he unknowingly broke a picket line at the Detroit plant where he


the forgiving kind by Donna Everhart
The book has thirty- four chapters, so officially we’re at the half way point with this week’s post, and that’s hard for me to imagine, but here we are! This week I was going to talk some more about the antagonist, Frank Fowler. Between his


Did you have a favorite aunt growing up? Aunt Marie, the wife of one of my Dad’s younger brothers was like a second mother to me and brother and we called her Aunt “Ree.” She lived about two miles down the road from our house


the forgiving kind by Donna Everhart
We have spent the last four days preparing for hurricane Florence and we’ve done all we can.  The forecast has been all over the place, which makes decision making hard. I canceled my SIBA trip, and while I know I made the right choice, I’m


I’ve read articles recently about older parents downsizing and how their children don’t want their stuff.  It’s true, and I’ve experienced this first hand when I helped my mom move here to my little hometown. She’d been living in my childhood home, the place my


Recently at a book event I was asked (and it’s not the first time) if there is some part of me in each of the main characters I write about.  Yes, I think this is the case for all writers.  Maybe this is a bit


I want to talk about my narrator in THE FORGIVING KIND, Sonny Creech and her brothers, Ross and Trent. Like her daddy, Sonny loves their cotton farm, all three hundred acres of it.  Despite the fact she spends hours doing hot, difficult and unrelenting work,


I don’t remember much about the heat, or the storms we used to have when I was growing up.  Well, there was one incident when my brother and I were picking blackberries from a patch close to our house, and an unexpected clap of thunder


When I was going to school, the end of the year would send me daydreaming about the freedom of summer vacation coming up. I have to be honest, I was a mediocre student, only going to school and getting through the days because it was


I grew up surrounded by mechanics. The men in my family worked on cars, trucks, tractors, lawn mowers, you name it, if it had a motor and it needed fixing, they were on it. Their heads were always stuck up under the hood, or they


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