“We walked into church together, whispers trailing behind us. I ducked my head. Did he hear them, too? I glanced up again. His chest puffed out a bit now, and his gait took on a swagger. He obviously felt no shame to be linked with an old maid of twenty-two. One with bobbed hair and a car of her own, who bore the name of the most influential man in town. Maybe, just maybe, Lawrence Trotter was God’s answer to my prayers–in more ways than one.”
Author, Editor, Reader
