Author’s Lounge has allowed me to introduce you to my novel, I Love You To Pieces. It’s a psychological thriller, the story of family ties and survival. You will find the romance sultry and twisting suspense that will keep you turning pages until the end.
I Love You To Pieces is set in the southernmost part of Florida, where Olivia Harding was born privileged. Her father adores her and furnishes endless love and attention. The silver knife in her back is courtesy of her mother, whose cruel torture plagues Olivia and shatters her mind.
She survives her childhood and strives for a normal life: college and a job. Sparks fly when the tall, dark, charming family attorney entwines Olivia in a sweet romance. Her plan of staying emotionally distant in fear of exposing her secrets doesn’t stand a chance.
But it’s all a lie. There is nothing ordinary about Olivia, and much she can’t explain away. Like going to bed after drinking nothing more potent than tea, waking to vomit that reeks of alcohol, and smelling of cigarettes and floral perfume.
After a late-season hurricane threatens the city, Olivia is charged with murder! She’ll have to share her secrets in jeopardy of losing what’s left of her sanity, the man she loves, and possibly her life. But to what end?
With the target audience set for anyone between the ages of twenty-five and seventy-five, who love book clubs and are wild for cozy romantic thrillers, this book has what you’ve been looking for. Writing I Love You To Pieces drew on aspects of my past, raised in a home overwhelmed by mental illness, as a victim of its impact, and as a survivor. I hope readers can identify with Olivia’s journey and see that there is hope, a light at the end of the tunnel, and treatment available. And after, mention the book to others who may be in need. Let me know what you think @writenow713.
Authors’ Lounge asked me to write something more about myself. Part of me feels I should be lying on a couch with a doctor sitting across from me, nodding and taking notes. I was born into a loud and large New York Italian family and began writing at a young age rather than vie for talk-time with my numerous siblings. Some nights we pulled numbers for placement to be heard during dinner. There was always an audience somewhere, but I often told my stories to the dirty dishes. As early as elementary school, pressed shoulder to shoulder in the family station wagon on our weekly Sunday visit to grandma’s house, I would write short chapter books. Putting words on paper had always had a calming effect, significantly when situations around me, those beyond the control of a child, encroached on my world. After years of marriage and motherhood, I’ve learned to change my perspective on the past. Now, I try to come from a place of gratitude.
My readers ask why the books I write always have a dog as one of the characters. The books aren’t actually about dogs. They make them better. If you’ve ever loved one, you’ll agree dogs are like taking Xanax without the side effects or yoga without the muscle strain. And rescued dogs give back so much more than they take.
Years ago, I visited the County Animal Shelter and noticed a sizeable, brown-eyed dog staring back at me through the bars. He had cigarette burns on his fur, and a tag stapled to his ear. The card on his cage stated he was four months old. When I asked about the label, they informed me it signified his last day on earth. He came from an abusive situation, and they didn’t know how he would respond to humans. I named him Thurman. He needed a few adjustments, like giving a person a few seconds to put a cigarette out themselves before he knocked it to the ground and stomped on it.
Now, I’m grateful for Rutherford B. Hays. Rescued on the Fourth of July, we wanted to name him something patriotic and picked a President who wouldn’t irritate anyone. At two months old, I found him sitting on the dryer; a month later, he leaped over the couch. I did a DNA test feeling sure he was part Raptor and part kangaroo. It turns out he’s half Black Lab and half Treeing Walker Coonhound. The second part makes him a sloppy, floppy, loveable giant. And me–I’m blessed.
I hope you read and enjoy I Love You To Pieces.
Thank you, Authors’ Lounge.
Lori Flynn
