Hi Readers,
I’m back this Friday. Earlier this evening I started writing “Hearts of Glass Fade Away and Radiate”. It is the second book in the Hearts of Glass series and it releases black Friday of this year. To get back into the writing seat I needed inspiration. I got it a few ways.
The first was an unexpected audition. An amazing and accomplished voice actor sent me an audition tape. It was supposed to be two minutes of my favorite chapter…. chapter 18. What I got was the whole chapter. Hearing my creation with a professional voice had me view the book in a different light. Somehow her voice had me fall in love with the story even deeper and be proud of the beauty of what I wrote. By the middle of June we will have a date for release for the audiobook. She is recording in the studio as we speak.
The second thing is the reviews I have been seeing on Amazon, Goodreads, and Apple Books. Most of them are women who see themselves, or someone they knew, in Cassie, Jenny, or even Aunt Em (the cranky protective nurse). This means everything to know that people see not just the story, but themselves in it. That was the goal.
Finally, there is today. Today I read the first three chapters of Handmaid’s tale for the first time in a few years. Then I listened to seven records. And I started revising the outline for book two, then I wrote. I was revisiting these people people who are not just in my head and heart and my past, but they are you, the readers who identify with these amazing women.
The connection of us all to see one another, hear one another, and find beauty and value in that.
Like some of the characters I am a survivor of SA and DV. Like some of the characters I have religious trauma syndrome. Like some of you I have wondered if I am too much or not enough and thought the things done to me were my fault. Like some of the people these characters are based on, they have too.
What I had then and have now for the first time in decades are a few beautiful friends that are found family. That is something some of us have but not all of us. It is in that core of found family that you find worth and survival and even have time for beauty amidst the trauma of it all. Maybe you had that once in your youth and lost it. End of the day…wherever you are in that friend circle…this is for you and about you too.
After this excerpt of the prologue, if you would like to read more, there will be a link where you can buy the paperback. But I also want to make it approachable to everyone regardless of affordability. For a limited time you can get the e-book direct from the publisher for $1.99
Enjoy the excerpt.
Prologue Excerpt
At the mall, Ford found a spot near the entrance to Marshall Field’s, the blue paint of his Monte Carlo glinting under the summer sun. He took a few deep breaths, got out, locked his car, and walked toward the Field’s entrance. As he walked through the double doors, his senses awakened. He was aware of a medley of scents—citrus, musk, and floral notes blending seamlessly with the store’s neon glow and the ceaseless hum of bustling shoppers. To Ford, it was pure bliss. With money in his pocket and the freedom to spend it, the possibilities stretched out before him like an endless horizon.
Ford weaved through the store’s labyrinthine walkways, passing backlit portraits of striking models flaunting the latest makeup and glittering jewelry. The men’s fragrance counter came into view, framed by sleek displays that glimmered under fluorescent lights. Nearby, two saleswomen were locked in animated conversation.
“Nora,” the blonde in a white jacket and impossibly large shoulder pads said with an exaggerated sigh, “we’re still short on guys for the show. Not a single response to the ad!”
Nora rolled her eyes, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe we should tape a sign to the mall entrance, Lisa.”
Lisa snorted, shifting her gaze to Ford with a mischievous grin. “Forget the sign. Direct sales! Look who just walked in. What do you think, Don Johnson? Interested in a little runway work?”
Ford froze, heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn’t expected to be thrust into their banter. “Uh… what?” he stammered, his shoulders tensing under her scrutiny.
The brunette offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t mind her,” she said warmly, shooting Lisa a pointed look Ford did not grasp. “We’re just scrambling to find guys for our fashion show next week.”
Lisa leaned against the counter, her smirk growing. “You ever done any modeling, kid?”
Ford hesitated, a nervous laugh escaping before he mumbled, “Kinda…some Carson’s catalogs when I was a kid and other stuff.” His fingers drummed against his thigh as unwelcome memories flickered through his mind.
“Perfect!” Lisa exclaimed, clapping her hands. “See, Norah! Don Johnson has experience! Kid, it’s easy—walk with a girl, step aside, let her do a turn, then walk her back. Do that a few times, and you’re fifty bucks richer.”
Ford shifted uncomfortably, aware of their eyes on him.
Nora, seeming to sense his unease, Ford thought, stepped in. “Don’t let her pressure you,” she said gently. Her warm gaze met his, grounding him. “What brings you here today?”
Ford exhaled, feeling a small wave of relief. “Just, uh… the Polo cologne on sale,” he murmured.
“The splash-on’s good, but since you’ve endured my boss here, let me upgrade you to the atomizer—for the same price,” Nora said with a wink, sliding the upgraded bottle across the counter. “I’m Nora, by the way. If you ever reconsider the modeling thing, come see me—not Lisa.”
Ford chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thanks, Nora. And… thanks for not pushing.”
“Anytime,” she replied with a warm smile as she rang him up. As Ford walked away, the weight of their earlier banter lifted, leaving him feeling unexpectedly buoyant.
As Ford made his way through the main corridor of the mall, the bright neon storefronts flashed their sales in bold, enticing fonts. The hum of conversation mingled with the faint clatter of arcade games echoing from the food court below. Every corner seemed alive with possibility, and for a moment, Ford felt a thrill. Each shop was a small, unexplored world, and today, he had both time and cash to indulge.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the figure barreling toward him until it was too late. A sudden jolt from behind sent him stumbling forward, his Marshall Field’s bag slipping from his hand. The glossy Polo box skittered across the polished floor.
“Shit!” a voice exclaimed.
Ford turned, blinking in surprise, and found himself face-to-face with a girl about his age. She crouched quickly, scooping up the fallen cologne box, and stood, holding it out to him with a smile. Her short blonde hair curled slightly around her face, and her electric blue eyeliner made her bright blue eyes pop. She wore a yellow CBGB’s tee tucked into a leather mini-skirt, her wrists adorned with spiked bracelets. The look was effortlessly cool, undeniably punk, and breathtaking to Ford.
“Sorry about that,” she said, handing the box back to him. “Didn’t see you there. Polo, huh?”
Ford’s heart raced as he managed a nod. Words formed on his tongue, but refused to escape.
“Careful with that stuff,” she added with a smirk. “Total panty dropper.” She winked, her teasing tone making Ford’s cheeks burn.
Clutching the bag, he finally managed a sheepish laugh. “Uh… thanks.”
She gave him one last grin before stepping back. “Come by Orange Julius sometime,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll hook you up with the employee discount.” She was already walking away when she called, “Oh, and nice outfit! Very Miami Vice!”
Ford stood rooted to the spot, watching her disappear into the crowd. He wanted to call after her, maybe say something clever, but his tongue betrayed him. With a sigh, he turned and noticed the Record Town entrance nearby. He needed a distraction—and music always worked.
Stepping inside, he was greeted by the soothing scent of vinyl and the vibrant hum of conversation. A guy in his early twenties with long brown hair and a blue muscle tee nodded at him from behind the counter. “Hey, dude. You okay? I saw Cassie bump you.”
Ford frowned slightly. “Cassie?”
“Blonde, CBGB’s shirt, always in a rush?” the guy said with a grin. “Yeah, that’s Cassie. Sorry about her—she’s always on Cassie time, which is five minutes late for everything. I’m Doug. Let me know if you need anything.”
Ford nodded, his thoughts still lingering on Cassie. “Thanks,” he muttered, turning his attention to the rows of records.
The rock section drew him in like a magnet. Thumbing through the racks, he spotted a Blondie album and paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. Parallel Lines and Eat to the Beat were soon tucked under his arm, alongside Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me by The Cure and Unknown Passions by Joy Division. Ford wasn’t sure what compelled him to pick Blondie first, but he couldn’t help thinking about Cassie as he carried his stack to the register. She had a Debbie Harry vibe about her.
Doug rang him up with a nod of approval. “Nice taste, man. Keeping the classics alive.”
Ford smiled. “Thanks. Yeah, I guess I just like… real music that, um…speaks to me.”
“Real music, huh?” Doug said with a grin. “You’re speaking my language. Come by anytime, dude. We’ve always got good stuff. And if we don’t have it, I can get it.”
With his bag in hand and a lighter wallet, Ford stepped back into the mall’s steady buzz. His eyes flicked instinctively toward the Orange Julius stand, where he spotted Cassie chatting animatedly with a customer. She laughed at something they said, her blonde curls bouncing as she moved. For a split second, he considered walking over, but the sight of a tall, muscular guy leaning over the counter to kiss her made him hesitate. Ford turned away, chuckling to himself. “Figures,” he muttered, shaking his head.
He wandered upstairs, the polished tiles reflecting the glow of the fluorescent lights above. His gaze snagged on the glittering window display at Kay Jewelers. A gold-tone Seiko watch caught his eye. Its sleek, timeless design seemed to radiate and call to him, something Ford couldn’t quite put into words but instantly wanted to claim.
He stepped inside, approaching the counter hesitantly. A woman in her forties, her hair pinned tightly back, gave him a dismissive glance. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone clipped.
Ford’s confidence faltered, his shoulders tightening. “Uh… yeah, I was just looking at the watch in the window,” he mumbled.
Her expression didn’t soften. “That’s a $125 watch, kid,” she said bluntly, turning her attention to a display case.
Ford’s confidence wavered, a familiar feeling of inadequacy sinking in. He mumbled, “Sorry,” and started to turn away, his throat tight.
“Young man!” A man’s warm voice called out. “Please, come on over. I’m Bill.”
Ford hesitated, but Bill’s friendly demeanor put him at ease. Bill looked older than the other woman. He wore a wash and wear black suit, had a pencil-thin mustache, and was balding. They chatted about the watch, its stainless steel build, quartz movement, and $125 price tag. Ford admitted he didn’t have that kind of money, but Bill suggested layaway, holding it until he could pay it off. He explained to Ford that with a little money down, they would put the watch in the back with his name on it for 90 days.
Handing Bill $25 to start, Ford couldn’t hide his excitement. As Bill taped a copy of the paperwork to the watch box, Ford remarked he had no idea how he would pay it off, but he was going to do his best. Bill asked, “Do you have a job, son?”
Ford shook his head.
“I like you, son. My niece is the assistant manager at Silverman’s downstairs next to the Chess King. She could use someone with your style. Her name’s Linda. I’ll call her and let her know you’re on your way.”
Ford left the store with a sense of excitement blooming in his chest. His wallet was lighter, but he had a plan—a watch on layaway, a potential job, and a strange kind of confidence he wasn’t used to feeling. Maybe things were starting to fall into place.
Ford headed toward Silverman’s, Bill’s words buzzing in his mind. It was a mid-tier clothing store, one of those places where stylish but affordable pieces lined the racks in tidy rows. As he approached, he saw a dishwater blonde woman in her mid-twenties juggling customers with ease. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her name tag read Linda. She glanced up as he walked in, her eyes narrowing in recognition.
“You must be Ford,” she said, flashing him a quick smile before turning back to fold a stack of jeans. “Uncle Bill told me you’d be coming by.”
Ford nodded, his nerves kicking in again. “Yeah, uh… he said you might need some help?”
Linda didn’t stop moving but looked toward a display of ties that looked like they’d just survived a tornado with what Ford thought was an exasperated look. “I have to ring someone up, stay here.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ford replied as he walked toward the ties. He started organizing the ties, mimicking the neatly folded rows he’d seen in other displays.
Linda finished with her customer and came over, watching him for a moment. “You’ve got a good eye for detail,” she said. “Think you can start Monday?”
Ford blinked, surprised at how fast things were moving. “Uh, yeah. Definitely.”
“Great. Bring your driver’s license and social security card on your first day. Oh, and wear a tie—neatly tied,” she added with a smile. “Customers like a polished look.”
Ford grinned, shaking her hand. “Thanks, Linda. I’ll be here.”
As he left the store, a strange mixture of relief and exhilaration bubbled in his chest. He had a job. He’d walked in, and somehow, it just happened. The mall seemed brighter now, its energy more electric.
He found himself wandering back toward the food court, the smells of greasy pizza and fried chicken wafting through the air. Sliding into an empty table, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a slow drag. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed, inevitably, on Cassie. She was behind the Orange Julius counter, laughing again with a co-worker, the tall guy from earlier nowhere in sight.
Ford considered walking over but hesitated. What would he even say? Hell, Ford thought, she has a boyfriend. He glanced at the cigarette in his hand, took another puff, and stubbed it out in the ashtray. “Field’s it is,” he muttered under his breath.
He stood and made his way back toward Marshall Field’s. The men’s fragrance counter was barren except for Nora wearing a black cosmetics smock. Nora looked up as he approached, a knowing smile already forming on her face.
“Back so soon?” she teased, leaning against the counter.
Ford rubbed the back of his neck, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, I was thinking… about the fashion show thing. Is it, uh, still open?”
Nora straightened, her expression lighting up. “Absolutely! Let me grab a form for you to fill out.” She handed him a clipboard and a pen, her smile encouraging. “You’ll have a fitting on Monday, and we’ll run through the basics. It’s easy—promise.”
Ford nodded as he filled out the form. A part of him still wasn’t sure why he was doing this, but something was exciting about stepping into the unknown. When he handed the clipboard back, Nora grinned.
“You won’t regret it,” she said. “Plus, fifty bucks a show isn’t bad, right?”
Ford laughed softly. “Not bad at all.”
As he walked away, the day’s events began to settle in his mind—a job at Silverman’s, a watch on layaway, and now, a modeling gig he hadn’t seen coming. Maybe modeling would be different than when he was a kid. Ford shuddered for a moment and took a deep breath. As he did, the edges of his nerves had smoothed into something else—something like pride. He wasn’t sure where all of this was heading, but for once, he felt like he was moving forward.
Sliding into his Monte Carlo, Ford leaned back in the driver’s seat, letting the day’s moments play out in his head. The radio clicked on as the engine rumbled to life, and the familiar opening beats of Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” spilled into the car. A smile tugged at his lips as he pulled out of the parking lot, thinking of blue eyes as the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the pavement.
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