First Sentence Friday – Chapter 3 and COVER REVEAL!

This week, along with the Chapter 3 post, I have revealed the cover for THE FORGIVING KIND.  I was going to wait a little longer until I discovered that it was already out on the web in a few spots.

Many of you know, an author seeing a book cover for the first time ranks right on up there with opening the box filled with Advance Reader Copies, (ARCs) or, the actual finished copies. These are truly special moments and the culmination of long months of work for the author, and the publishing team.

Book covers are intended to convey an atmosphere, a rendering of the story from someone else’s point of view, and it’s always fascinating to see that interpretation.

Cotton plays a pivotal part in the story, while the Ideal Ball jar with its rusted hinge, a commonly used object with many practical purposes, is reminiscent of the time. The blueish green color in the background reminded me of water, a key theme, just like in THE ROAD TO BITTERSWEET. The title is encased in a manner similar to my other two books, a branding concept I love, making my work apparent and visible to readers who enjoy it. As well, I’ve always loved the single lines used to capture the essence of each of my books, and in this case, it’s “The heart is fertile ground. . .”  (swoon)

I hope you love it as much as I do!

By the way, this also means the book is now available for pre-orders, and you can add it to your Goodreads “want to read” shelf.

Two sites with the book available for ordering online are here:

Barnes and Noble


Indiebound doesn’t have the book up yet, but check back often – it’s important to support the independent book stores!

Now, on to this week’s First Sentence. 

How many of us still take that old fashioned Sunday drive?  Something tells me not many. I recall doing it with my family when I was growing up. It would be a Sunday afternoon, and out of the blue, Dad or Mom would say, “Let’s go for a little ride.” A lot of times we ended up on some rural country road with vegetable and fruit stands, tobacco barns, and pastures with horses or cows.  I always loved those slow, meandering drives.  I’d have my back window rolled down, arm propped on the armrest, my head as far out as I could get it without having to eat gnats. I was always on the lookout for the unusual.

One afternoon I saw some headstones in the middle of a plowed field. There were trees near them, as if to offer shade to the dead. This was fascinating from my viewpoint because I’d only seen graveyards with neat rows of headstones, all proper and cared for by some unknown person.

It wasn’t uncommon back in the old days for families to want to bury their dead on family owned land, and it still happens today.

This week’s sentence deals with such a burial. As you know, I don’t like spoilers, and I know you don’t either, however, what you already know from the first few sentences in the flap copy is a tragedy will befall Sonny’s Daddy.

The flap copy said: “For twelve-year-old Martha “Sonny” Creech, there is no place more beautiful than her family’s cotton farm. She, her two brothers, and her parents work hard on their land—hoeing, planting, picking—but only Sonny loves the rich, dark earth the way her father does. When a tragic accident claims his life . . . 



Chapter 3



We buried Daddy on the land he tended with such steadfast devotion, on a small rise beneath a cluster of pines.




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