One might say there has been a slow poison brewing inside me, bubbling, and churning, and threatening to erupt for the major portion of my life. The only reason it has been contained so long is I did not have every ingredient I needed. I now have them all and I am ready for Jackson Winkerson. By the time I am through with him, he ll regret what he did to me. This brew has been gathering itself for over twenty- three years. Never once, not for one day, not for one hour, have I left my brew unattended or unwanted. Three months ago, it reached its most potent stage. My husband, Coleman Cottumn, died. I would have delivered my brew the day after he was buried, but I had to wait the standard ninety days before my attorney, Marshall Evans, declared me in full control over everything my deceased husband left behind, which to my delight, is far more than I ever imagined. He could have given Bill Gates a fair run in financial genius.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
Peggy grew up on small farm in the Appalachian mountains; married young; finished school; made handcrafted folk toys; got her own farm adjacent the Blue Ridge Parkway on Grandfather Mountain; raised six children in a single-wide; grew burley tobacco, Christmas trees and small fruits; built a house; and raised small animals all while helping her husband do land surveying. Now, she farms less and creates novels sprinkled with the flavor of her mountain heritage.
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
Book Description Moody Valley, 2011. Paperback. Book Condition: Brand New. paperback edition. 357 pages. 8.10x5.30x1.00 inches. In Stock. Bookseller Inventory # 159513039X