Sand Letters Series

Sometimes a book just says “write me.” I have enjoyed meeting Margie Whooten and Ruth Ann Johnson. I am already excited for the journey that lies ahead with these two. It is my plan to follow Margie and Ruth Ann through the laughter, the tears, the complications, and the comfort of a long-standing friendship. This is book one. This is how they met. This is how a girl born in 1961 grows into one of the women wearing a pink hat and marching in 2018, carrying a sign that reads, “I can’t believe I still have to protest this shit.”

Reviewers are saying:

"Great start to a new series."   "Excellent coming of age novella."   "Such a great story." "Gentle, insighful reminder of societal progress."    "Terrific read for all ages!!!"

"Short But Sweet."

In the summer of the American Bicentennial, 1976, Margie Whooten is a fifteen-year-old with questions. She finds answers in a novel providence provides. Fate then throws Margie face first into the chest of her new favorite author, beginning the awakening of the young woman’s soul and forming the foundation of a forever kind of friendship.

This novella is available in print and Kindle ebook on amazon.com and Nook ebooks at barnesandnoble.com

Chapter One  

On a ribbon of sand off the coast of North Carolina, atop an ancient ridge shadowed under Live Oak and Yaupon trees, a small transistor radio played from its perch in the crooked elbow of a wind-twisted branch. A lanky fifteen-year-old girl with sun-streaked hair the color of the sand she dragged a toe through, reclined in a rope hammock, one foot on the ground lazily swaying the occupant. From her relaxed vantage point, she could see the front door of her home and anyone approaching from the rear of the house. This tactical advantage was imperative because the teen didn’t want her mother to see what she was reading. Cleverly disguised with an appropriated dust jacket, the novel had aroused no suspicions. However, if nosey Ida should somehow see the actual text, the fact that they were on an island might come into play. Swimming to safety would not be out of the question...