Lisa DeNauro’s compact, muscular body whipped feet-over-head—a blur of red leotard, freckled skin, and blonde hair. Her palms sprung off the vaulting horse, flinging her into a perfect round off. She nailed the landing and tossed her hands toward the New Smyrna Beach...
The Florida to North Carolina trek took sixteen hours—one for each year I’d been alive—or long enough to read Go Ask Alice, Love Story, and a Mad Magazine cover to cover. I packed my K-Mart steamer trunk with enough T-shirts, shampoo, and books for a summer at Our...
I jerked upright out of a sound sleep. My newly broken ankle squawked in complaint. I peered at the sliver of streetlight slitting through the window and stilled my breath. Nothing. Well, nothing but the sound of Ralph sawing sequoia-sized logs in the next room. I...
Lisa DeNauro’s compact, muscular body whipped feet-over-head—a blur of red leotard, freckled skin, and blonde hair. Her palms sprung off the vaulting horse, flinging her into a perfect round off. She nailed the landing and tossed her hands toward the New Smyrna Beach...
During August I’m blogging about Our Lady of the Hills Camp near Hendersonville, North Carolina–now owned by Highland Lake Inn. I transplanted the camp to a Florida beach town for my novel, Kicking Eternity. An excerpt appears at the bottom of this post. The Florida...
