I am pleased to announce the publication of my second novel, eleven years in the making, called, The Secret Sense of Wildflower. To my astonishment and delight, it has debuted to critical acclaim. Kirkus Reviews (they call themselves “the world’s toughest book critics”) has given it a starred review (for “books of remarkable merit”) and deems it:
“a quietly powerful story, at times harrowing but ultimately a joy to read.”
Needless to say, this review has made my day and perhaps my year. The full review follows but first I want to thank all of you for your support over the years. Thanks for buying and recommending my first novel, Seeking Sara Summers, (five years after publication it is still going strong). The Secret Sense of Wildflower is a total departure from Seeking Sara Summers, so I’m interested in hearing what you think. I will share how I got the idea for this book in my next blog post. In the meantime, if you haven’t already, I hope you will consider buying a copy of The Secret Sense of Wildflower and perhaps telling your friends about it. You can get autographed copies on my website, and it is also online at Amazon (both print books and ebooks) and can be ordered at any major bookseller. It’s exciting (and a bit scary) to put one’s work out into the world, but I hope you will join me in wishing Wildflower well. P.S. The entire Kirkus review follows or you can read it online here.
THE SECRET SENSE OF WILDFLOWER In this novel, life turns toward a dark horizon for a precocious adolescent grieving for her father in 1941Tennessee. It’s difficult to harbor secrets in a rural mountain town of maybe 80 souls, especially when adult siblings live within spitting distance of the family home. Most of the townsmen work at the sawmill, and most of the young women have been harassed at one time or another by creepy Johnny Monroe. But Louisa May McAllister, nicknamed Wildflower, knows that revealing her frequent forays to the cemetery, where she talks to her beloved late father, would only rile her embittered mother. She also knows to hide her “secret sense,” as it would evoke scorn from all save eccentric Aunt Sadie, who shares her tomboy niece’s gift. Those secrets come at a cost when, on one of her graveyard visits, Louisa May ignores her premonition of danger. The consequences, somewhat expected yet still horrific, are buffered by the visions into which the 13-year-old escapes. Sharp-witted, strong, curious and distrustful of any authority figure not living up to her standards, including God, Louisa May immerses us in her world with astute observations and wonderfully turned phrases, with nary a cliche to be found. She could be an adolescent Scout Finch, had Scout’s father died unexpectedly and her life taken a bad turn. Though her story is full of pathos and loss, her sorrow is genuine and refreshingly free of self-pity. She accepts that she and her mother are “like vinegar and soda, always reacting,” that her best friend has grown distant, and that despite the preacher’s condemnation, a young suicide victim should be sent “to the head of heaven’s line.” Her connection to the land, a presence as vividly portrayed as any character, makes her compassionate but tough; she’s as willing to see trees as angels as she is to join her brothers-in-law in seeking revenge. By necessity, Louisa May grows up quickly, but by her secret sense, she also understands forgiveness. A quietly powerful story, at times harrowing but ultimately a joy to read.
Buy The Secret Sense of Wildflower . Thanks! I look forward to hearing from you!
P.S. I’m an ex-shrink who writes novels. Check out my books here.









Awesome and congratulations!! Can’t wait to read it. Eleven years? I don’t feel so bad at 4.5 then!
You’re a whiz kid compared to me, John. 🙂
Yeah, but you gave birth to yours. Congrats!
Congratulations! I wish you great success. Stories from Tennessee are always good for me to hear about, me being an East Tennessee transplant here in Los Angeles.
Lee
An A to Z Co-Host
Tossing It Out
Hi Lee,
I appreciate the congrats. It’s always great to hear from someone who stomped around the same hills I did as a child.