She was a tiny thing with bright hazel eyes the color of a lion's, and a mane of sunbleached dreadlocks. Not a drop of makeup on her tanned skin, but she seemed to glow.
An angel with dreadlocks

author of literary fiction with a southern drawl
She was a tiny thing with bright hazel eyes the color of a lion's, and a mane of sunbleached dreadlocks. Not a drop of makeup on her tanned skin, but she seemed to glow.
This man built treehouses and death-defying water slides. Once he took me, my sister and little brother out in the woods and told us to find all the moss we could. He wouldn't tell us why, just gave us buckets to fill. Later he took the double-decker wire mesh tool rack off of his work [...]
Pamela's here! She flew down from Nashville on Tuesday, bringing with her the smells of lavender, eucalyptus and everything Pammie, smells that I've missed more than I realized. And her smile. It's a long way from Nashville, but as soon as she got in my van at the airport, it was like were back in [...]
A few days ago, I found out that Kat at, Family Furore nominated me for the Liebster Award. It's an award that recognizes new bloggers. I Googled it, of course I did, and this is what I found. “Liebster” is a German word meaning beloved or dearest. This Award exists only on the internet as [...]
I have been out Mama Bone Barnstorming for my debut novel, One Good Mama Bone, across this great land, racking up 41,000 miles on my mud brown Hyundai and meeting the most amazing folks on the planet. A whopping 165 events, including a private party in a 1894 plantation house in Alabama, a swamp party in South Carolina, standing room only for the southern gal out in the renowned Book Passage outside of San Francisco. I am so blessed!
These last couple of weeks have been crazy. Crazy good.Let's see, it started with a trip to the dermatologist. I had a spot on my leg that had gotten weird. I wasn't too concerned - no, that's not true - I was a little worried, but I guess that's normal. Karen, urged me to make [...]
The next night the gift came in the form of a fireball shooting nun celebrating her retirement from St. Bernard's at Lipstick Lounge.
My mother, although a huge fan of my words, occasionally, over the years, made her longings known for my writing to take a turn: “I wish Suzanne would write something that could be printed in the Ladies’ Home Journal.” Translation: “sweet—not dark and violent and disturbing.”
Before long, his soft, mossy shell was hard again. It almost sparkled under his sunlamp-my little nieces, my brother's three girls, thought it looked like gold and asked if he was magic. I thought so.
I hadn't intended to write a blog about my dogs this morning, but poor Moe is feeling puny today. I thought he was better, after a messy Monday, and a normal Tuesday. His nose is cold and wet, he ate his dinner last night like always - fast and furious, so when he woke me [...]