Wax my magnolia blossoms! A killer’s on the loose!
Nobody knows how to run a register like Daisy Ann.
When grocery store owner, Deke Dewitt finds a body behind the dumpster of his small town grocery, the Buy-Right, Daisy Ann worries their rural community has become a hotbed of crime. It seems the victim is an unemployed college dropout. Is it suicide or murder? When her boss is attacked, Daisy Ann is thrown in the middle of a stew of trouble and intrigue.
A hotly contested election has turned the local sheriff’s department upside down. Rumors are flying, but Daisy Ann is determined to protect her friend and perhaps – get him to give her a raise to boot!
A humorous cozy murder mystery about a country gal whose culinary skills are abysmal.
My settings are as varied as the American landscape. My works of fiction cover a wide range of topics and themes. From ugly, racist attitudes to the humble kindness of strangers, from unavoidable tragedy and defeat to the unconquerable human spirit that rises from the ashes of chaos, from peace to war, from undying love to utter madness, I delve into the human soul and reveal glimpses of the frail and mortal character of Man. The settings are sometimes gritty and surreal, sometimes, simple and small town.
My children’s books are full of entertaining and unique illustrations geared to making learning fun.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I have been a reader for as long as I can remember. I smile at the picture my mind’s eye paints: a skinny kid dragging a hardback copy of ‘Anna Karenina’ to the beach. Yes, that was a beach read.
I remember losing a copy of Marcel Proust’s ‘Swann’s Way’ in a campground on the Outerbanks. I was surprised to find it lying on a sink in the cinderblock bathhouse at the Salter Path Family Campground a few days later.
My sister ribbed me for days that somebody had returned it because it was such a boring read no one would ever keep it. (I got the book back, but sadly, that campground is no longer in existence. So many fond memories. So many good people who visited there year after year.)
I was into the classics as a kid. It may sound painstakingly boring, but I wanted to learn from the best the world had to offer. It was a rich education – Hemingway, Faulkner, Steinbeck, and scores of others.
I went to an estate sale as a teenager. There in the corner of that musty old house was an old gunmetal manual typewriter. It stood on a little table with wheels and 2 spring-levered leaves that folded in or out. I was lucky enough to get it.
I still have that old thing, though I never use it. I keep it for what it symbolizes. In the age of touch pads and such, it’s nice to see the old mechanical type hammers lined up in their neat row, each with their slug of metal type on the end.
Like I said, it’s nice to look at.
For the actual typing, give me touch pads and laptop keyboards.