by Diane Munier
Darnay Road Available now as Kindle e-book
Starts out in summer of 1963. Sweet little ten-year-old Catholic school girl Georgia Christine meets eleven-year-old smoker with armpit hair who really does live on the wrong side of the tracks Easy. She and Abigail May are mystery solvers, The Darnay Spies, in their spare time, and Easy Caghan (E.C.) and his brother Cap will keep these two little ladies on their sleuthing toes. Darnay Road leads them into a future where their childish friendship blooms into love. Will the Vietnam War be the one challenge they can’t overcome?
My Wounded Soldier, Book One: Fight for Glory, coming July 2015, available for pre-order soon
1866
All across the country men are drifting home from the war. But when Tom Tanner musters out, he doesn’t plan to go home. He has been working in the brickyard in Springfield trying to save enough money to buy a rig and head west. He’s not expecting his father to show up and plead with him to return to the farm. After the horrible loss of his older brother, Tom doesn’t feel worthy of the family’s company. But his guilt won’t allow him to cause them more pain and so he goes home for one last visit. It’s hard to find normal around the folks. The work of harvest provides the perfect distraction. Once the crops as in he’ll go so far away they’ll never have to look at him again. But his plans are challenged one day. Tom is working in the field when the neighbor boy, Johnny, comes running for help. What Tom finds at the neighbor’s home is a scene right out of the war. But it’s not just about killing. The Missus Addie Varn, is ready to birth. Tom wants to run, and he will come fall, but now he must roll up his sleeves and play midwife.
About the Author
Living comfortably in the heart of America with the people I love. I live an extroverted life, but I'm a genuine introvert. An urban kid, I spent much of my youth running in various neighborhood establishments. There I met many colorful characters and I learned to love them and be fascinated by them. My love of story comes from them. I learned to sit on a bar stool or a kitchen chair or in a pew and hear story. Hear the voices telling story. See the mouths move and the hands clutching glasses or cigarettes. See and hear the laughter. There is no greater honor than to hear someone's story. If you feel that way about the tales I tell...what more could I ask.
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