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In the depths of the Great Depression, Ellie suffers another crash—that of her marriage. She’s left struggling to restore her shattered life, feeling as damaged as the stained-glass panels she refurbishes for Chicago’s historic structures. While visiting her aunt in Marietta, Ohio, a charming river town, Ellie encounters towboat captain Wyatt and feels a searing attraction to him. But thanks to past and subsequent wounds, her attempts at opening herself to love seem futile. Her hope for love and her determination to find the place she belongs are further complicated by her tendency to make impulsive decisions. In her journey, Ellie draws on an unrealized level of courage and learns she must identify her brightest passions in charting her course.
Enjoy an Excerpt
Climbing from her automobile, Ellie ambled around to the sidewalk, where she tipped herself onto her toes to stretch her legs and flung out her arms with a moan, promptly smacking a hand into what felt like a human. She pivoted.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so…” The “sorry” came a heartbeat or two later, followed by, “Are you all right?” even though there was no way this man wasn’t okay.
Tall and sturdy enough to survive much more than a little whack in the chest, his faded blue-and-white pinstriped shirt, tan leather vest, and well-worn trousers did nothing to detract from the toned lines of his body. A sampling of gray wove through the hair peeking out from beneath his newsboy cap. Slightly wavy, sandy blond hair, which on anyone else would need a good trimming but suited him fine. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two.
“Lengthy drive, I take it?” His mouth curved into a half smile, crinkling the corners of soft, hazel eyes. “Nothing like a good punch to work out the kinks, huh, Slugger?”
Ellie drew in her lips. A laugh didn’t seem appropriate right now. “Really, I am very sorry,” Ellie said. “You are all right, aren’t you?”
“I think I’ll be fine,” he said with a nod and a languid blink of those captivating eyes. “Ma’am,” he said with a tip of his cap before he and his comrades continued toward the river.
Ellie’s feet felt their way to the door of the five-and-dime. Wowee, did that bloke look better from the front or the back? Biting her bottom lip, she reached for the door handle.
About the Author: 
Dottie scratched out her first fiction as a little kid transfixed by the books she read all those lazy summer days on the front porch swing. Two of her short stories have been published in The Ernest Hemingway Foundation of Oak Park’s literary journal, Hemingway Shorts, having placed among the top ten entries in its annual short story contests.
