Leslie began her writing career as a stay-at-home-mom. Her life-long love for reading lead to reviewing books for Goodreads, Amazon and Jillian Dodd's Author Blog. Leslie is also the cofounder of The Indie Bookshelf, which hosts yearly author signings, primarily in the Dallas/FT Worth area.

When she is not writing, you will find her lunching with friends, sipping a cup of joe, binging on Netflix or working on a home DIY project.

Leslie lives in Texas with her husband, teenage son and daughter, and two very silly pugs. 

He knew me from the moment I stepped through the broken window.

Studying me.

Watching me.

Changing me.

I was unaware of him at first; my life was too out of control to notice. The constant moving and lack of money after Mom divorced Dad was turning her into a different person. All she did was drink and she was now this angry person I didn't want to know.

But once I stepped through the window inside that house, I could feel the peace surrounding me. Hugging my body as if it had arms. Protecting me. Loving me. It was like the house knew what I craved and it felt too good to question any of it. So I went back, day after day. I hungrily guzzled up the euphoria like a raging alcoholic, reaching for another drink.

Just like my mother…

Atticus

I've been banging on Candice's door for the past ten minutes my knuckles are starting to bleed. I'm not even trying to be subtle about it and I'm pretty sure if her neighbors are watching, they think I'm some kind of obsessed boyfriend. I've checked her apartment twice already, hoping she would finally open the door. I don't want to believe it was really her running up to the Emory house but now, I'm questioning everything. What made her crazy and why would she run to that house? 


Chapter 41