Do you want to be a writer? Join me as I write. I share the good, bad, and ugly of putting the story together, getting it published, and learning how to promote it. I share my thoughts and feelings, my good ideas and bad ones, what works and what doesn't.
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This week, July 15- 22, Lighthouse Publishing of the
Carolinas has put Breathing on Her Ownin
the Kindle Countdown program. During this time you and your friends can
download the book to your Kindle for only $.99. Don’t have a Kindle? There’s an
app for that…a free one from Amazon. It will turn your computer or android into
a Kindle reader. And once read, don't forget to post a review. Thanks--Rebecca
From the back cover…
Tipton and her husband are looking forward to retirement but Molly's life
suddenly spirals out of control when her oldest daughter is involved in a
terrible accident. An icy road and a sharp turn leave one woman dead, another
clinging to life.
two families grieve, details emerge that reveal Molly’s daughter was driving
under the influence. As she prepares her daughter for the prospect of a
vehicular homicide lawsuit, Molly discovers her oldest child is not the only
one injured and under attack for past mistakes. If it is true time heals all
wounds, what are we to do with our scars?
turned her attention to the floor of the upstairs clothes closet. Only the shoes
were left. Molly sat down and picked up a pair of Laney’s high-heeled shoes and
hugged them to her chest. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She pulled her
mouth tight. A picture of Laney clomping around in Molly’s high heels when she
was a toddler came unbidden to her mind. The blue heels she and Laney had dyed
to match her prom dress tugged at her memory. The white satin heels Laney chose
for her wedding. Shoes tell the story of
came running into the now empty bedroom screaming. “Hunter hit me!” Hunter was
fast behind her. “She hit me first!”
closed her eyes for a moment.
“No hitting, “ she instructed her
grandchildren. “I don’t even want to know what happened. Just no hitting.” She
pushed herself up from the bedroom floor. Both children started talking at the
turned. “Stop it!” She bent down to within inches of their startled faces and
spoke through clenched teeth, her voice even and firm. “I do not want to know what happened. I only want you to stop yelling at
each other and remember this one rule: No hitting.” With that she turned and
headed down the stairs, leaving a startled Hunter and Ellie standing in the middle
of the empty room.
Molly went into the bathroom and closed the door. She shook. Never before had she been that
close to losing her temper with Hunter and Ellie. Would they hate her for it? Hands
on the sink’s edge, Molly leaned heavily on the new granite surface.
pang of self-pity knifed her heart. Hadn’t she already raised her own children?
Slowly raising her head, Molly studied her image in the mirror. What was it she
had been thinking about before the children started fighting?
was the shoes. Shoes tell the story of
our lives. Images of Laney’s first steps in the high top stiff white shoes
of a toddler flashed before her. Laney’s first ballet slippers. There were new
school shoes each September, white patent leathers every year for Easter, and
black patent leathers near Christmas.
wiped her face.
was the shoes triggering her anger, not the children. The shoes were a reminder
of all Laney had been and had become. The shoes she would never wear again to a
dance or to take a run in the park. The shoes were to blame.