While Lizetta lives a life of compassion, childhood bullying over a few extra pounds have caused this sparky woman to lose sight of the beauty of her soul. Jensen’s recent past is filled with substance abuse, shady morals, and loose women. A brutal wake up call forced him to find his way back to the gentle soul he once was; however, there are some whose futures depend on the return of the demon.
Souls can heal, but how long can they fight the forces that seek to destroy them? If one of those forces is the person who shattered your self-image, and she is determined to take down the one you love, could you still believe that everyone deserves a second chance?
Targeted Age Group:: 16-60
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Something to Dream On was not only inspired by my childhood experiences, but also by a recent event that happened to a dear friend. How a grown man can claim to be mature and then go online and harass a sweet woman because of the gifts God gave her is beyond my comprehension. Worse, it was done in code, much like a child would do, yet it could not have been more obvious at whom the joke was aimed. Within a few days, work on this book began. Thus, I’d like to acknowledge those who inspired this story: The victims who stand strong.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
All of the characters in the story, from our lovely lead to the burned-out addict, were based on people I have met over the years. With my characters, there is heavy truth in fiction.
Tingles blanket my skin, bringing about peace to my soul. At last, redemption is upon me. Her words paint my soul with a comfort that no drug could ever match. “I am so grateful for you and Etta. This sounds crazy, but I swear that right after he died, I heard Eddie’s voice saying to let the universe be my guide. I tried to understand, but I couldn’t get it until I saw Etta on the side of the road. I thought I was living my nightmare all over again, but an angel in scrubs appeared and gave me hope.”
“I looked such a mess that day,” she chokes out.
My hands cup her cheeks so I can capture her gaze. New tears form because more than ever I see what a gift she was. “You looked like a savior whose only concern wasn’t her own. You were the beacon of light that showed me I would be okay. I was so afraid that seeing Etta would send me begging for a needle and a spoon, but instead you both brought me deeper into salvation.” I squeeze her hands again to emphasize my plea. “You ground me. For months I have stayed on track because I had this dream that there was something better for me, something that could make me feel rooted. That dream is you.”
Lizetta’s tears mirror my own. Her eyes are so puffy and red that I worry for her all over again. When she grips my hand, both fear and anticipation fill me over her upcoming words. “Time and again, my father hurt me. When you first said that you were fighting an addiction, my mind went to the time he smacked Jimmy across the face so hard that blood sprayed. After that, every time Mom and Dad fought, Jimmy and I cowered together. I’ll also never shake Mom’s expression while trying to hide why the cops had come to the door on the day Dad died.
“My dad was a shameless bastard whose womanizing gave Mom Gonorrhea. Thank God she cut him off for good then and there, because eventually a hooker, a fling, or a needle infected him with HIV. The killing blow to our hearts came when Dad’s last day was spent in a motel room, dying alone with a needle in his arm. For years I have carried those images of my father, a man who couldn’t be bothered to shake a habit—not for his wife and certainly not for his kids. I grew to love Paul because he showed my family that we were worthy of happiness. Now you have basically told me that you got clean for yourself, but are willing to fight even harder for my sake. Do you have any idea how that sounds to a little girl who was hurt by her father, only to go to school each day and be ridiculed about her body? You too, Jensen, are a savior.”
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