Heart Strings

(affiliate links to my publications)

Look what was waiting for me when I returned from an unexpected road trip!

What a wonderful thing to come home to!

I'm very happy to announce, due to special request, my latest book is now available in print-on-demand at Zulu.

"Heart Strings" also is available electronically on iTunes and Barnes & Noble and electronically and in PDF form on Smashwords.

Here's a short excerpt from the book's first chapter to give you a feel for the plot and characters:

Killer whale didn't really fit Eugene's personality. He seemed a lot more like an ostrich.

It took all the rest of the towels in the cabinet to dry up the bathroom floor. I took the pile to the laundry room and returned with the jeans, T shirt and socks Greg had scrounged.

The once-red sneakers Eugene had been wearing probably would have sufficed long enough for a trip to the department store down the canyon, but he'd worn them into the tub. They were now soaked. I tossed them into the washer along with the towels. I tossed his old clothes into the wastebasket. Upon seeing the condition of his underwear, I decided these clothes weren't worth washing. I succumbed to the burning desire to wash my hands after touching his clothing.

Eugene looked so tiny but adorable in the oversized Fleetwood Mac T-shirt, one of Greg's favorites from high school. I now could tell the boy's skin was white, and his hair was sun-streaked blonde. Chunks of hair were missing from his head. A five-year old with bald spots. He almost looked as if he'd been through chemotherapy.

I also noticed a few scars around his ears, as if someone had missed while cutting his hair. Either that, or he had squirmed. His tiny body was alarmingly slender unclothed. His ribs showed through his skin, and his knees and elbows were so bony, his skin looked like flesh-colored Saran Wrap over a skeleton.

His arms had scars that appeared to be cigarette burns. I didn't ask. It was more important right now to make him feel welcome and loved than drudge up the past.

The more I looked at him, the more I was convinced this little boy wasn't going back to any family that would leave him in such condition, much less put him in such condition in the first place.

This little boy was going to be mine.

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