THE ROCKSTAR REMEDY

Known as the “Rock n’ Roll Doctor” to some of the most famous bands in the world, Dr. Gabrielle Francis shares her unique holistic prescription to achieving health and balance—even when you don’t live like a saint!

But first Dr. Gabrielle Francis shares:

The Rude Awakening

I remember sitting in Naturopathic school with other students and hearing them talk about how their future practices would be. They would say things such as: If my patients eat at Mc Donald’s I won’t work with them. I can only work with people who are open to raw food and vegetarianism. Coffee is the root of all things evil and my patients will not drink it. It led me to wonder how these people were going to pay off their student loan bills. Who would be their patients? It hadn’t crossed my mind that my first practice would be touring with Rock Bands and I would have this dilemma too.

When I graduated from 17 years of medical school, I was so burned out from working full time and going to school that I was not even sure I wanted to be a doctor anymore. This seemed like a good time to take a few months sabbatical and do the travelling I had always wanted to do. I was having an identity crisis and felt a break from medicine would cure it.

So I sold my possessions, closed my chiropractic practice, and drove my books and clothes back to Cleveland to keep in storage for who knows how long. I headed to Europe with a backpack and no hotel reservation. For the next 8 months, I backpacked through Europe seeing sights, making pilgrimages along the way, sipping coffee in cafes, and taking in the culture. I missed medicine and realized that I truly did want to be a doctor.

Several months into it, one of the bands I had worked with previously, got wind I was in Europe. How would I like to get paid to travel? They wanted someone to go on tour and do some natural medicine for them. What a day it was to take a taxi from the youth hostel in Paris where I was sharing a room with 6 people to the very swanky Paris hotel where I would meet the group. The taxi driver questioned my appearance and destination. I arrived at the fancy hotel looking like one of the Beverly Hill Billy’s wiping the dust off myself. The band gave me money to buy some hipper clothes. They could not bear to see the hiking boots and backpack. The next few months it was 5 star hotels, tour buses, planes and lots of great parties.

I had my massage tables sent to Europe along with a natural medicine pharmacy of herbs and vitamins and acupuncture needles. I was so excited to be able to incorporate all of the modalities for healing together for the first time since I graduated. This would be my first practice. I was in for a Rude Awakening!

My visions of the ultimate natural medicine practice were quickly dissolved. After Paris, the band headed to Amsterdam. Need I say more? I quickly realized that this band was just as committed to revelry and debauchery as they were to their health. The preventive medicine I knew turned into harm reduction for hangovers and Sexually Transmitted Disease. What to do? This is not the kind of natural medicine practice I had wanted. Eventually I relaxed into it. I put my judgments aside and learned to use my medicines any chance I could. As a doctor, I needed to learn this. I learned to meet people where they are and make small changes where I could. I learned it is possible to be healthy and have a lot of fun too!

“You can’t always get what you want…

But you get what you need.”

-The Rolling Stones

As a Holistic Doctor to the music industry’s elite, Dr. Francis has helped rock stars repair, recover, and refuel from the demanding schedules and occasional overindulgences that come along with the rock star lifestyle. Being overscheduled, sleep-deprived, overeating, drinking and managing physical and mental stressors aren’t lifestyle habits unique to the music industry; they are the same challenges faced by all of us, every day.

In The Rockstar Remedy, Dr. Francis shares her unique strategies designed to be incorporated into your hectic lifestyle. Her programs are customized to meet you where you are at, whether an experienced health enthusiast or a beginner. Completing the 21 day detox will give you a renewed sense of energy and enthusiasm for life, while looking and feeling your personal best. She explains how health is not a destination, but exists on a spectrum, and the simple act of making better choices every day—even if they’re not the best choices—helps us achieve balance in both mind and body. With tips for improving energy levels, easy food guidelines and a simple no-starvation detox, Dr. Francis offers a simple, effective plan for staying healthy and happy amid the chaos of our daily lives. Her popular “Harm Reduction Techniques” and “90/10 Rule” make it easy to celebrate life with occasional indulgences while maintaining good health. This is not a temporary fix; this program brings long-lasting, life-changing results.

Now you can reach for the stars too!

*****

Dr. Gabrielle Francis has been practicing natural medicine for more than thirty years,

She is a Naturopathic Doctor, Chiropractor, Acupuncturist, and Licensed Massage therapist. Dr. Francis currently practices in New York City as The Herban Alchemist. She also operatesBackstage Alternative, which is her natural medicine road show that provides chiropractic, massage, acupuncture, nutrition and herbal remedies to performing artists on tour.

Dr. Francis received her formal medical training at National College of Chiropractic and at Bastyr University. She has extensive training in Alternative Cancer Therapies, Environmental Medicine, Functional Medicine, Mind-Body medicine, and Bio-Identical Hormone therapies. Following her formal medical education, Dr. Francis travelled extensively to various parts of the world studying medicine with indigenous healers in countries such as China, India, Thailand, Bali, Brazil, Morocco, Peru, Guatemala, Ecuador, Belize, Mexico, Egypt, and Mali.

Stacy Baker Masand is a health, fitness and lifestyle editor whose work has appeared in magazines such as In Style, Marie Claire, Self, Shape, Fitness, DuJour and Women’s Health. She’s co-author of New York Times bestseller Your Best Body Now. Stacy is currently developing projects for both small and big screen.

*****

Today at WEP Write...Edit...Publish

guest author and Halloween judge

Annalisa Crawford

guest posts on 

How To Write Scary!

A WRITING JOURNEY

Introducing Tom Benson, talented author & entrepreneur, he's here to discuss his writing journey from poetry - to thrillers - to erotica.

Elementary to Erotica – my journey so far

I am always keen to learn about a fellow author’s route, from those tentative steps of composing a first piece of work, to first publication and beyond. 

Irrespective of age, or experience, the early days are the most difficult, as they are with most ventures.

It’s good for a writer’s morale to take stock occasionally, but publicly like this. It’s also self-marketing, but we can’t hide our light under a bushel, because therein lies obscurity.

My story may not be awe-inspiring, but I’ve reached another stage with my latest release.

Now is a good time for me to take a look back.

In 1992, following a military career of 23 years, I next took up retail management, which I did for 20 years. In the mid-90’s I started to write my military memoirs. It took over two years and the writing was abysmal. I abandoned the memoirs, and over the next few years I wrote short stories for my own amusement, not knowing anything of the required discipline.

In 2007 I wrote a rhyme whilst on a coffee break. A colleague told me I should join an online poetry site. I did and I wrote 700+poems in three years, but felt the need to do something more.

I read short stories and books on how to write them, whilst I practiced. I took out a subscription to a national writing magazine. In 2010 I won a competition and had my story included in an anthology. Poetry was left behind, as I spent every available minute producing ideas to create short stories.

I joined a website and a local writing group and learned much from having my work critiqued. I’d long had a yearning to write a novel, but felt it was beyond me. My first novel was inspired by a fellow poet on the other side of the world. We’d reviewed each other’s poetry and kept in touch. I’m delighted to say that our friendship has remained firm and we continue to support each other.

In December 2012 I published ‘Ten Days in Panama’, a romance-based thriller. I knew it wasn’t great, but I had introduced aspects of the thriller, and I knew I had to write something more exciting. It was a steep learning curve, just as it had been with short stories. I used the manuscript ‘rest’ periods as a time to continue writing short stories.

In October 2013 I published ‘Beyond The Law’, a crime thriller about a vigilante in Glasgow. During breaks from my novels, I honed my 12 best short stories to create an anthology. In May2014 I published ‘Smoke & Mirrors and other short stories’.

When I read ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ I was disappointed in the content. I got the impression that the author had a good idea, but minimal knowledge of her subject. I am amazed at the success of that series.

I had experimented with writing erotic stories, but they’d never been seen. I thought back over my life experiences and decided I had the knowledge and imagination to adapt them and create a variety of scenarios. In June 2014 I published my second short story anthology ‘Coming Around and other erotic stories’.

My work on thrillers continued. In July 2014I published ‘Amsterdam Calling’, a psychological thriller. Since moving on from poetry, my practice had been to work on more than one project simultaneously, so my next book was at an advanced stage.

I published ‘A Taste of Honey’ in December2014. It was another vigilante story, but this time about a rogue female detective – in the US.

From late 2014 into early 2015 I had a handful of private messages asking if I’d ever considered writing an erotic novel. These were not random queries, but from folk who had read my erotic anthology. Just as I had with my poetry a few years before, I sensed a challenge, but once again, a challenge I relished.

In September 2015, I completed the final draft of ‘Give & Take: A Tale of Erotica’. It has sold almost daily since publication.

If my first attempt at an erotic novel receives positive reviews, I will be happy to produce a sequel. It has two reviews already. Whether or not I find success in the world of erotica I’ll continue to write thrillers, but there is escape in writing contrasting genre.

I would suggest to any writer who feels the urge to try a new genre – do it. Don’t let anybody hold you back with their opinions. You owe it to yourself – and your readers.

*****

Nick and Kirsten are an attractive couple in their early 20’s and share an apartment. To the outside world they are perfectly matched, but behind closed doors things are not so straightforward.

Nick’s appetite for sexual experimentation goes beyond what Kirsten will allow. Kirsten’s love for Nick is pushed to the limit, however, she confides in a friend and takes a course of action that nobody would have expected – least of all her boyfriend.

The couple find themselves in a world where they will both see fantasy become reality, but at what cost?

******

In November 2015 I aim to publish ‘Acts of Vengeance’, the sequel to ‘Beyond The Law’.

One of the greatest things we can all do as indie authors is to support our peers. Try to read other indie authors, and provide reviews. Make an effort to read widely in genre – it really does pay dividends.

Another good idea is to do as I’ve done here, and produce an occasional update on progress. It doesn’t matter if you’ve written one book so far, let people know you are out there.

As always, I thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts. Feedback is always welcome.

*****

In 1969 at the age of 17, Tom left his native Glasgow to join the British Army. Tom’s military career spanned from 1969 to 1992. He followed this with a career in Retail Management, in which he was employed from 1992 to 2012.

Tom has been writing since 2007. He has published five novels, two anthologies of short stories, and a series of five anthologies of genre-based poetry. He is presently working on two novels, and a third anthology of short stories. Tom is also a self-taught artist.

Tom’s websites:

Author: http://www.tombensonauthor.com

Writer & Artist: http://www.tom-benson.co.uk

Blog: http://www.tombensoncreative.com

*****

Thank you, Tom, impressive! Truly!

What do you think of Tom's journey?

Have you shared your success and or failures? 

Is it important, why or why not? 

Do you treat your writing as a business?

*****

This week the WEP-Write...Edit...Publish

is featuring

Annalisa Crawford 

She's sharing her secrets for writing scary!

Stop by on Wednesday to read her post.

Don't forget the Halloween Challenge sign up begins October 1st!

THE COLLECTOR

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

A flash fiction challenge of 100 words or less

The photo prompt copyright to David Stewart.

FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!

© David Stewart

THE COLLECTOR

In the salvage yard, Carey found a claw foot tub, several cast iron side tables, and reclaimed wood to build the door for her new office. In the back, she noticed an old gate, the perfect finish for her new privacy fence. A little sanding and a new coat of paint meant excellence.

Anxious to get all her finds to the truck, she yanked the gate loose, then screamed. Attached to the fence, by the sleeve of a shirt was a skeleton, and beyond that were dozens more.

The Junkman happily added Carey to his collection of salvage hunter bones!

*****

100 words

Yolanda Renee © 2015

Add your entry by clicking on the blue frog and find more great stories!

*****

Do you know How to 'Get' a Copyright?

Find out at the WEP - FYI Segment

with 

Attorney Ellen Kozak

CHEMO ON THE ROCKS

Visiting today is Rebecca Durkin and her latest release

Chemo On The Rocks: My Great Alaskan Misadventure

Please enjoy the introduction to her book and an excerpt!

Chemo on the Rocks is a shoreside seat on Rebecca (Becky) Durkin’s great Alaskan misadventure. It highlights the hilarity and heartache of a young girl who finds herself marooned in Ketchikan—fondly known as “The Rock”—where she remains on her self-imposed Alaskatraz for almost thirty years.

Chemo on the Rocks is witty, inspirational, satirical, and sometimes terrifying. It is a mix of pain and laughter as Becky walks the IV gauntlet, trailing behind the unfettered back end peeking through the drab hospital  gown of the man shuffling before her.  Chemo on the Rocks is a hard-fought battle in the fallopian trenches where Becky wages war on ovarian cancer—the ultimate wedding crasher—as it invites an entire medical team into her honeymoon suite.  She slays the cancer dragon and has two children in defiance of the beast, but just when it seems life has returned to normalcy, she prematurely crashes onto Mount Hysteria and wanders aimlessly through the Hormone War Zone in the Land of the Ovary Snatchers.

Everything about having chemo on the rock was made more difficult by Becky’s fears of boating and flying—the only escape from the island—which became more terrifying with each trip to Seattle for surgery or testing. Chemo on the Rocks showcases the many parallels between sea adventures and cancer adventures, such as doldrums while awaiting diagnosis, the skull and cross bones of chemo, the bitter end of a failed marriage, tying the knot of another, listing dangerously, and perhaps a return to navigable waters.

Excerpt:

Short toddler legs and sharp driftwood slivers slowed me down as I tried to keep up with my older brother Mike as he hopped from log to log in front of our Whidbey Island home. Snow-capped Mount Baker loomed high in the distance, completing the backdrop of our postcard existence. Lazy summer days sipping lemonade with neighbors, playing with cousins and friends, and a friendly black lab named Sam proved the American dream.

Dad’s store, Bill’s Jiffy Mart, was just a few miles away in downtown Oak Harbor. Clad in his green apron, he spent hours arranging perfect rows of canned vegetables and fruit. He always had a pencil tucked behind his ear, a feather duster in his hand, and a pen in the pocket protector of his crisp white shirt. There was nothing better than leaning into the freezer and pulling a crystalized Fudgesicle on a sunny day or trying to decide which box of Cracker Jacks had the best prize. I loved the store and all the promotional gimmicks Dad brought home, like my life-sized green Squirt soda balloon with fuzzy hair, and the greatest prize of all, my bright red two-seated tricycle.

 Bill’s Jiffy Mart had a small home in the back parking lot. When I was about three we left the beach to live closer to the store, substituting convenient downtown living for fresh salty air. We moved from picture-perfect postcard to a postage stamp lot. A public beach was not far from our home but repeated pestering didn’t sway Mom to drive me there any sooner.

 Impatient to play in the water, I planned our beach escape for days. “Hurry up, Sam,” I lisped, as we furiously dug a hole under the fence. We belly-crawled under the fence and I loaded Sam into my powder blue get-away wagon. I tugged at my swimsuit trying to loosen the itchy dirt, as my canine conspirator and I began our trek. Sam’s pink tongue dripped with excitement as I pulled him across the parking lot. I had plans to show Sam Oak Harbor’s Flintstone-mobile and for a dip in City Beach Lagoon, which would wash away all evidence of our escape. We made it all the way to the end of the parking lot and hung a left towards the beach.

 “Becky! Sam!” Mom’s voice, shrill above the busy traffic, brought everything to an abrupt halt. Sam abandoned me on the side of the road and went skulking back to Mom as she bustled across the parking lot. The whole town heard my wails as she spanked me in front of the busy intersection, loaded my downtrodden dog and me into the wagon, and pulled us back to my backyard prison. My tears stained the brown floor tiles inside Bill’s Jiffy Mart as Mom reported my crime to Dad. After careful consideration, he gave me a Canada Dry Ginger Ale, his feather duster, and put me to work in the canned goods section

.

A year or so later we’d outgrown our humble abode behind the store and moved to a larger home with a neighborhood filled with friends for Mike and me. Mike had a tree house high up in a backyard tree, with a strategically absent rung to keep his sister from infiltrating the fort. Sam had free run on the grassy lawn, and I spent hours playing hide and seek in the forest just beyond our property line. My all-time favorite activity was pushing my two-seater trike to the top of the hill for the exhilarating ride back down, stopping only by the skin of my shoes. I got in big trouble from a friend’s mother when her daughter hopped on behind me and set her barefoot brakes—Fred Flintstone style.

As our house size grew, so did our family, and Mom’s tummy expanded by the minute. A tiny baby was getting ready to join the Holman clan, and I had plans for my new sister. I would dress her up in fluffy dresses and push her around the neighborhood in my doll stroller. I was anxious to have a real live doll and after what seemed like forever the big day finally arrived. Dad drove Mom across Deception Pass Bridge to the hospital in Anacortes, while Mike and I stayed home with Grandma Chesley.

It seemed Mom had been gone for days. When the phone jangled, I pounced at the first ring.

“Hello?”

 “We have a new baby.”

 “What’s her name?”

 “Curt.”

 It took a minute before the meaning behind the name dawned on me. How could Mom ruin my months of planning in one phone call? There was nothing more to say, so I hung up on her and tried to figure out what I’d do with a baby brother.

 Curt grew from a robust baby to a darling brown-eyed imp whose summertime tans set off his shaggy blond hair, and even though he shunned pink dresses, he was a fun playmate. In contrast, Mom says I was puny. I had straight brown helmet hair, deep blue eyes, colorless lips, a crooked smile, freckles, knobby knees, and a lisp. I wanted long pigtails with ribbons, but Mom had no desire to fight my fine locks. Every few months she drove her stringy-haired daughter to downtown Oak Harbor for a visit to the beauty parlor where purple-tinged, pin-curled Betty and Evelyn waited for their next victim. Permanent wave solution and cigarette smoke burned my nose as I turned page after page of glossy picture books and smiled back at the little girls sporting beautiful curls. The pink-smocked gals gently set the impossible styles aside, pulled out a black padded bench, laid it over the salon chair, and pumped it up to haircut height. Betty attempted to hold me while Evelyn wielded scissors dangerously close to my ears, promising me a lollipop if I held still. I jumped out of the chair as a Peter Pan pixie. I loved the pink ladies. I hated the haircuts.

 Afterwards Mom tried to make amends for my hair loss with a trip to the shoe store next door. Mousy locks for Mary Janes. My hair looked ridiculous but my feet were always well-clad.

I endured stupid haircuts well into grade school, but my pixie looks were not a problem when Clover Valley Elementary School cast me to deliver the leading line in the Spring Concert. Our first grade class had been practicing silly barnyard songs for weeks. On the evening of the big event, Mom pinned a giant blue bow to my slippery locks, completely dwarfing my head. The tiny singers passed the microphone around as the bevy of children bellowed a barnyard bleat, moo or quack, much to the delight of their proud parents. At the end of each animal utterance, I stood tall at the center microphone and belted out And the Cat Goeth Fiddle I Fee. I was confused when the entire audience roared each time I sang my part. Whether because they thought I was adorable in my oversized bow and pronounced lisp, or hilarious, I’ll never know, but my blue bow sunk lower behind the students after each Fiddle I Fee.

*****

Rebecca Durkin, author of Chemo on the Rocks: My Great Alaskan Misadventure, and her short story, Behind the Smile, is known for her candor and sense of humor.

Rebecca is a featured speaker/creative trainer for an annual women’s retreat in California, where she shares her experiences and provides writing ideas. She is also a volunteer for the Survivors Teaching Students: Saving Women's Lives ® program for the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance. The program brings ovarian cancer survivors into the classroom where they present their unique stories along with facts about the disease to future physicians, nurse practitioners, nurses and physicians assistants.

Rebecca spent the majority of her life living on the edge of the shore, first on Whidbey Island, Washington and then in rainy Ketchikan, Alaska where she lived a waterlogged existence for almost thirty years. She currently lives in the Pacific Northwest where she enjoys road trips with her husband, hanging with her adult children, playing with her three Bichons, and finding the humor in everyday life.

Thank you Rebecca!

*****

If you've ever wondered about 

How to 'Get' A Copyright.

Check out the WEP - FYI Segment by 

Attorney, Ellen Kozak.

HER SMILE

Our host Barbara W Beacham provides the challenge. All you have to do is finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. 

Don’t forget to use the opening sentence… This challenge runs from Monday to Sunday!

Get creative and have fun finishing the story!

Please include the photo with your bit of flash and a link back to the original post. 

Now have some fun!

Today's finish the story begins with:

“From her small balcony, the witch watched the world go by.”

Mondays Finish the Story

HER SMILE

“From her small balcony, the witch watches the world go by.”

     You think you're safe, bitch! Not from me. Mark watched as the object of his lust enjoyed coffee on the balcony of her family's house.

     She'd met him for coffee, but the date ended suddenly when he told her he thought their children would be exceptionally good looking, after all, they were both perfect specimens.

     She'd refused to consider another meeting. He apologized, tried to laugh off his comment, but she wouldn't listen.

     Mark fiddled with the guns scope, but soon he had her sighted. She looked right at him and smiled. Mark hesitated.

     At that same moment, another driver lost control of his vehicle taking Mark's option from him.

*****

     A nurse wiped the spittle from his chin and wheeled him into the sunshine. Paralyzed from the neck down, Mark can only watch, but all he sees is that smile. Her smile haunts his every conscious and unconscious moment.

*****

150 words

Yolanda Renée © 2015

*****

Please feel free to upload your story by clicking on the little blue frog to add your story to the list!

*****

WEP-Write...Edit...Publish

Have you checked out the challenges?

October is Halloween Frights!

Decemberis Holiday Celebrations that are out of this world!

A PEACH OF A PAIR

Introducing author, Kim Boykin, she's here to introduce and discuss her latest release

A Peach of a Pair.

AND IT ALL STARTED WITH A BUS TRIP

Last year, I was having a glass of wine with my editor who wanted to know what was next for me.  I told her, I’d thought about writing a sequel to The Wisdom of Hair, but I wasn’t thrilled with the storyline that had my protagonist barefoot and pregnant when the first novel had ended when she’d just had her first child. “So, what else do you have?” my editor asked.

I wanted to wow her with another quirky tale and a great original title, so I pitched a story I’d started several years ago about two elderly spinster sisters called A Peach of a Pair. The idea for the story came from my great great aunt who traveled from the bottom of southwest Georgia to Arkansas to see a faith healer in the late 1940’s. Women didn’t travel alone, and there weren’t a lot of women on the busses. So, to be on the safe side, she rode the whole way to Little Rock with her arms crossed and a hatpin under each arm. If a man got too close to her or fell asleep and his head flopped onto her shoulder, she’d jab him with the pin. Unfortunately, when she got to her destination, she found out the faith healer had been run out of the state, and she got back on the bus and went home.

While the hatpin incident isn’t in A Peach of a Pair, the idea of traveling a great distance for healing is. I loved the idea of setting out on an arduous journey full of hope and faith that there is healing on the other end. That’s what happens to poor Lurleen, the eldest sister, who is dying of congestive heart failure, but not because she wants to go on this trip. Her sister Emily, took something from her when they were barely twenty.

As Emily says, “What happened to Teddy was Emily’s fault, and she’d paid for it a thousand times over, losing her mother to a broken heart. And the seven years Lurleen lived in the same house as Emily but didn’t speak to her, didn’t take anything from her hand. The shunning wasn’t a religious edict. Goodness no, they were raised Presbyterian. But Lurleen had taken right to the practice. Even with the gravity of events, Emily was sure it couldn’t last, but she’d been wrong.” Even fifty years later, Emily wants to right the scales so badly, she badgers poor Lurleen into getting on a Greyhound bus and riding all the way from Camden, South Carolina to Palestine, Texas to see a faith healer.

My editor loved the title, loved the story so much, I thought she would buy it on the spot, but then she said, “Where’s your young protagonist?” The truth is, when you publish you’re put into a box. All authors are because it’s easier for publishers to sell us that way. We can’t just be storytellers, which is what I wanted to be. I was so excited about my pitch to her, I’d forgotten Penguin put me in the sweet Southern box complete with a young protagonist.

So I did what every author does; I made her up on the fly. “Uh. Her name is Nettie Gilbert and she’s a ‘Bama belle in her last semester at Columbia College, and, uh, she receives an invitation to her baby sister’s wedding back home. BUT her own fiancé is the groom. So she quits school and goes to work for two old maids in Camden, South Carolina and the bus trip for healing ensues.” 

The interesting thing about this is, in the original version of the story, Nettie was a young girl on the bus, but she was also a plot device to hear the sister’s stories, to understand the riff, and their complex sisterhood. When I started to write, I was a little concerned that Nettie would be overpowered by Emily and Lurleen’s great big voices, but it turned out Nettie held her own and then some, even though Emily and Lurleen do hijack the story from time to time. But the story worked and turned out to be an examination of an indestructible sisterhood and a wild ride to forgiveness.

"Palmetto Moon" inspired "The Huffington Post" to rave, It is always nice to discover a new talented author and Kim Boykin is quite a find. Now, she delivers a novel of a woman picking up the pieces of her life with the help of two spirited, elderly sisters in South Carolina.

April, 1953. Nettie Gilbert has cherished her time studying to be a music teacher at Columbia College in South Carolina, but as graduation approaches, she can’t wait to return to her family and her childhood sweetheart, Brooks, in Alabama. But just days before her senior recital, she gets a letter from her mama telling her that Brooks is getting married . . . to her own sister.

Devastated, Nettie drops out of school and takes a job as live-in help for two old-maid sisters, Emily and Lurleen Eldridge. Emily is fiercely protective of the ailing Lurleen, but their sisterhood has weathered many storms. And as Nettie learns more about their lives on a trip to see a faith healer halfway across the country, she’ll discover that love and forgiveness will one day lead her home.

• A Peach of a Pair is available at Amazon.
• Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
• Also available at Indiebound.
• Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.

 Excerpt:

Dear Nettie,

It might seem cruel to send this letter along with a proper invitation, but I couldn’t bring myself to call you, and I wasn’t given much notice regarding this matter. I also know you well enough to know you would have to see the invitation to truly believe it. Although I do regret not having enough time to have them engraved.

I’m sorry to be the one to give you the news about Brooks and Sissy. I love you, Nettie, and I love your sister. I’m not condoning her behavior or the fact that she is in the family way, but you are blood. You are sisters. No man can break that bond, not even Brooks.

There’s money and a bus ticket paper-clipped to the invitation. I’ve checked the schedules. You should be able to leave Columbia on Thursday the week of the wedding after your morning classes and get back by Sunday night. I know how you hate to miss class, and if you are also missing some wonderful end-of-the-year party, I’m sorry. So very sorry.

But the milk has been spilled, Nettie. Come home and stand up with your sister. She needs you. She’s a wreck, and it makes me worry about the baby.

Just come home.

Love,

Mother

*****

Almost everything she learned about writing, she learned from her grandpa, an oral storyteller, who was a master teacher of pacing and sensory detail. He held court under an old mimosa tree on the family farm, and people used to come from all around to hear him tell stories about growing up in rural Georgia and share his unique take on the world.

As a stay-at-home mom, Kim started writing, grabbing snip-its of time in the car rider line or on the bleachers at swim practice. After her kids left the nest, she started submitting her work, sold her first novel at 53, and has been writing like crazy ever since. While her heart is always in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, she lives in Charlotte and has a heart for hairstylist, librarians, and book junkies like herself.

• Visit Kim Boykin’s website.
• Connect with Kim on Facebook and Twitter.
• Find out more about Kim at Goodreads.
• Contact Kim.

*****

WEP-Write...Edit...Publish 

is gearing up for Halloween, 

are you?