Friday! Friday! Friday!  Whew, what a week. Tomorrow I’m heading to Conway, South Carolina for the First Book Annual Fall author luncheon event. I’m really excited about it, and proud to have been invited to speak. Alumni include Mary Alice Monroe, Cassandra King Conroy, and the late, great Cokie Roberts, to name a few. What an honor, and I’m grateful to Mona Prufer for asking me earlier this year when we briefly met in Pawley’s Island during a Litchfield Books event.

But for now, it’s FRIDAY, and time to see what’s up with the Sassers on Shine Mountain.

Coming December 31, 2019 from Kensington Publishing, Inc.

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Growing up we used to take summer vacations to my mother’s home state of Maine. The sentence for this week is based on something I remembered that happened up there one night. My grandfather’s house had no air conditioning – there was no need. There was little humidity, and while it might turn hot – temperatures reaching into the 90s – it was very comfortable. The nights were even better, crisp and cool. When we went to bed, we’d lift the windows open, and place these wooden framed screens underneath the sash. Then we’d pile on the blankets and quilts. My brother and I slept in this one room, his bed horizontal under one of the windows while I slept on the other side.

One night we had the windows in the room opened and held in place with those wooden screens as usual. Our parents were still up and in the kitchen, talking with my grandfather and probably one of our uncles. No more than fifteen minutes or so had passed, and just as I was about to fall asleep, my brother yelled. I sat up wondering what in the world was wrong with him. Still yelling, he bolted into the kitchen. Next thing I know, my parents are in the room (I’m still sitting in my bed, still wondering) and my mother flips on the light. The screen that was holding the window open was on my brother’s bed. You’d think it hadn’t been put in place properly, but here’s what he said.

“A hand came through it and pressed down on my stomach.”

Which sent my father, grandfather and my uncle outside to look around. They didn’t find anything. Needless to say, it took a while before any of us wanted to try to get back to sleep. This scene came to mind as I wrote the book. Remember, they say truth is stranger than fiction.

Chapter 23

Somewhere between the croaking of tree frogs and the chirrup of crickets came the raspy sound of someone walking across gravel, then a scraping sound beneath my bedroom window.

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The winner of THE MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER ARC will be announced Monday morning!

Below are two ways you can support me:

1. Pre-order a copy –> here. Included is the chance to win a truly lovely leather -bound journal like the Sassers use.
2. Add THE MOONSHINER’S DAUGHTER to your Goodreads To Be Read list!

Do you know why doing both of these is important? It gauges early interest in the book which can attract the attention of industry influencers. Thank you ever so much! 

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