June 17, 2006 @ 8:15 pm | Filed under: Uncategorized

"The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle."

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It thrills me to announce that Saving Grace is under contract with PPH. This will be my third book with the wonderful folks in Hazelwood and I’m truly honored at their response to this story.

The picture above is the mock-up cover. When I first opened the email a few days ago and saw it, I just sat at my computer with tears in my eyes. I really love this story, and it feels wonderful to know I’ll be able to share it with all of you very soon now.

Here’s a sneak peek, if you’re interested.

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Prologue

Raleigh, North Carolina, 1986

Grace Camden lay still on the mattress, face to the wall, long after he’d gone. She heard the door to the apartment slam shut but didn’t turn at the sound, didn’t even give herself permission to feel relief.

The air in the cramped bedroom was pungent.  She finally reached down to grasp a handful of the sheet, drawing it up to cover her nose and mouth. But the scent of Rick Johnson’s cheap cologne, combined with the stench of alcohol and body odor, clung to the fabric. She kicked the covers off, her stomach heaving with revulsion.

She barely reached the bathroom in time, her knees scraping against the torn linoleum as she dropped to the floor. Grabbing as much of her hair as she could, she pulled it back in her fist and doubled over the toilet, her body shaking with violent spasms.

When there was nothing left, she gripped the bathroom counter and struggled to her feet, her legs weak and shaking. Grace stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror while holding a clean washcloth under warm running water.

What happened in there, Grace? How did you let yourself get in that situation? Hatred for Rick Johnson and disgust with herself battled for her heart. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the acrid taste building in her throat again.

The signs had been there. Why, oh, why didn’t I pay attention to them? She should have turned and left the apartment the instant she’d arrived home from school. The very second she saw Rick lounging on their worn-out sofa, she should have made a run for it. Clearly drunk, he’d waggled his fingers at her and patted the space next to him on the couch.

“Come on, Gracie. Come sit by Papa Rick for a bit.” His words were halted, slurred by the alcohol he’d spent the afternoon guzzling. “Come . . . tell me ’bout your day, Gracie.”

Pretending she didn’t hear him, she’d walked into the kitchen. All she wanted was to find a snack, then retreat to her bedroom. But she’d barely opened the refrigerator door when she heard him come up behind her, wrapping a thick arm around her waist.

Grace shuddered now, remembering. She shut off the tap and squeezed the excess water from the washcloth. After cleaning herself, she threw the washcloth in the sink. As she pulled on a clean T-shirt and skirt, she shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts that seemed stuck on permanent replay in her mind.

Walking through the apartment, she picked up the empty beer cans and cigarette butts Rick had left behind. Dumping it all in the trash can, she fought against the memories of the past hour, trying to force them from her head.

If only she could toss them out as easily as she tossed the trash. . . .

Chill bumps crept along the bare skin of her arms as she pictured his face looming just above hers. His yellowed teeth bared in a menace as he gave her a sardonic grin.

“You are a good girl, ain’t ya now?” His breath had been hot and foul on her face, and she cringed now at the memory. “Just like your mama said you was.”

Mama. Visions of her mother swam through her mind and she blinked, trying to make sense of it all. What does Mama see in Rick Johnson anyway? Surely she could see Rick for what he was.

A monster.

Grace set the lid back on the trashcan and retreated to the couch. Curling her legs beneath her, she prepared to wait. If Mama didn’t see it before, she will now. Just as soon as her mother came home, Grace would tell her the whole, terrifying story.

And that would be the end of Rick Johnson.

Because, no matter what the issues had ever been in Mary Camden’s life, she loved her daughter above all else. Grace nodded in the dimness of the room and drew her leg up, resting her chin on her knee. This time Mama will see Rick Johnson for the monster he is.

Grace was sure of it.