1866 All across the country men are drifting home from the war. But when Tom Tanner musters out, he doesn’t plan to go home. He has been working in the brickyard in Springfield trying to save enough money to buy a rig and head west. He’s not expecting his father to show up and plead with him to return to the farm. After the horrible loss of his older brother, Tom doesn’t feel worthy of the family’s company. But his guilt won’t allow him to cause them more pain and so he goes home for one last visit. It’s hard to find normal around the folks. The work of harvest provides the perfect distraction. Once the crops are in he’ll go so far away they’ll never have to look at him again. But his plans are challenged one day. Tom is working in the field when the neighbor boy, Johnny, comes running for help. What Tom finds at the neighbor’s home is a scene right out of the war. But it’s not just about killing. The Missus Addie Varn, is ready to birth. Tom wants to run, and he will come fall, but now he must roll up his sleeves and play midwife.
To celebrate the release of MWS Book 1, those who have given a “Yes” RSVP to Diane's Facebook event page by midnight of July 3rd will be entered in a drawing to win a copy of ‘My Wounded Soldier Book Two: Fight for Love’ which will be available for Pre-order July 4th. There will be 5 winners. So on July 4th, celebrate with family and fireworks, start reading My Wounded Soldier Book 1, and stop by this event page to see if you’re a winner and to hear a SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT! Exciting stuff is happening!
Additionally, there will be a Facebook Release Party on June 9th, hosted by Jedigirlsc and Frannie Flower. Please add the three of us as friends on Facebook to keep up with all the news.
Living comfortably in the heart of America with the people I love. I live an extroverted life, but I'm a genuine introvert. An urban kid, I spent much of my youth running in various neighborhood establishments. There I met many colorful characters and I learned to love them and be fascinated by them. My love of story comes from them. I learned to sit on a bar stool or a kitchen chair or in a pew and hear story. Hear the voices telling story. See the mouths move and the hands clutching glasses or cigarettes. See and hear the laughter. There is no greater honor than to hear someone's story. If you feel that way about the tales I tell...what more could I ask.