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About the author:
Elisabeth Jackson loves the outdoors and dogs, rescued dogs in particular. This Beautiful World is her debut novel and blends haunting childhood secrets, romantic themes, second chances and a mystery in a small town setting, with a dash of Gothic elements. When she is not writing small town Romances and Mysteries, she works as a freelance business writer. She welcomes readers to connect with her at ejacksonbooks.com and Facebook.com/ejacksbooks.
What inspired you to write your book?
My characters were inspired by the small, rural towns I have visited and lived in. The mystery part was actually inspired by a little known true story.
Here is a short sample from the book:
The waitress delivered our order, and I lifted my doughnut from the china plate and bit into the sweet, still-‐‑warm inside. Daddy gazed out the large window his shoulder pressed against, and I peeked to see what he was watching.
King stood outside the diner in worn jeans, wearing the same baseball cap I’d seen him in ever since I returned, talking with a slim, pretty brunette with a Sugar Bowl apron tied around her waist. Amy. The woman who took my mother’s life.
Amy touched King’s arm, and he smiled down at her. He had paired a tight-‐‑fitting t-‐‑shirt under an unbuttoned, long-‐‑sleeve denim shirt, its collar flipped up to hide the rope burn scar on his neck. I knew he’d turned up his collar on purpose, because I had an identical scar on my neck. Before the orchard, my life had been a spinning wheel, rotating calmly. Then the wheel had suddenly collapsed. Seeing King pained a part of me, because I always associated him with those painful moments. His presence also eased some of the horrible memories, because he had been there with me, and experienced everything I had.
Obviously, King’s relationship with the waitress wasn’t over, which meant that when King told me he was single, he’d lied. Still, I noted his well-‐‑defined arms with pleasure. There was no denying I envied the woman with him. His face was handsomely sculpted, with his almond-‐‑shaped, green eyes and high cheekbones. If he turned to me, looking at him from behind the window, would his gaze be one of longing? King was a young, handsome guy, and I was a not-‐‑quite divorced mom. Who was I to think he could be interested in me? I stared down at my hands folded on the table.
Daddy moved and I looked up. He was about to tap on the glass to get King’s attention. “Don’t,” I said, drawing his arm down.
Once more Daddy raised his hand to knock. “Don’t you want to invite him to join us?”
“No,” I said. “Looks like he’s busy,” I added when Daddy cocked his head.
Daddy frowned and stared out the window at King and Amy “Isn’t that…with him?”