© copywrite 2008 by Diana Mylek check out her website

Chapter 1

"One more,” Gunny ordered through clenched teeth. Pushing his body to the limit, he groaned and willed his arms to lift the weights once again. “Getting soft?” asked Nick, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel. “You used to tear up the weights back in P.T. Haven’t you lifted a finger since leaving the Marine Corps?”

Gunny frowned menacingly and forced yet another rep, though his muscles screamed in protest. He was in the best shape of his life, better than his twelve years in the Corps. Being a civilian again meant he had to work twice as hard to prove his worth physically but it was a welcome challenge to the former Gunny Sergeant. Great odds were nothing to this man who was used to being in charge, both of people and circumstance. He knew from experience that there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, any difficulty that couldn’t be overcome, and no adversary that couldn’t be beaten. Gunny was master of them all…except one.

The crushing grief shot through him like a rocket and made Gunny lose his grip on the weights. Nick caught the edge and guided them to the holder, not chiding his friend for carelessness or neglect. He too missed General Merchant, more a legend than a man, Gunny’s father who died saving a Marine’s life during a training exercise gone wrong. One bullet was all it took to snuff out the life of a man who outlived his whole platoon in Viet Nam and who spent the rest of his earthly life preparing “his men” for spiritual and physical combat.

When the General died, it took the wind out of Gunny’s sails and the career that meant so much to him became a burden, a noose around his neck. Leaving the Corps was a relief, not defeat…Gunny told himself for the hundredth time. It was my choice, I decided to become a civilian again…He pushed his body from the bench and headed for the showers. Tomorrow I’m going to start my new job, and I’m going to do what I know best, lead people. Granted, it wasn’t the Corps and he wasn’t shaping recruits into battle ready combatants, but it was a job. Anything to keep his mind off the loss of his father.



Leah sighed and pushed paperwork away from her tired eyes. Two days of juggling numbers on top of months more worry and she wasn’t any closer to resolving her cash flow problem than when her company first started its financial slide. Her beloved business was failing, fast and soon there would be nothing left…but twenty-seven women who lived by each paycheck and who would be thrown out on the street if she closed her doors. Leah’s business—quilts and old-fashioned handbags grew so fast in the last year that she could barely keep up. But not any more. Started out of her home with a used sewing machine, it began as a second source of income for her and Pam, Leah’s younger sister. Both worked day jobs and cared for an ailing mother by night, but neither earned enough to fully pay medical bills that accumulated faster than they could count. Always a seamstress, Norma taught her daughters how to make simple quilts and they discovered a talent that helped them sell bedding at flea markets and craft shows. Finally helped by a distributor who networked craft fairs, Leah and Pam were besieged by orders and borrowed heavily to purchase an old factory building and renovate it to usable condition. Next they went to their pastor and asked for advice on hiring employees, and he suggested the women at a local battered woman’s shelter. They made excellent workers, and in what seemed a good idea at the time, Norma suggested that the sisters make a daycare in the building so the women wouldn’t have to be separated from their children while they earned a living.

It had worked fabulously, until production became so good that more quilts were made than they could sell. Leah needed to cut corners and sent Pam to work on marketing and distribution, but she couldn’t lay even one woman off; what would become of the families who depended on Quilts, Inc. for income and free daycare?

“I know there’s an answer; but I can’t compromise,” Leah prayed, asking God for wisdom and direction. She reached for the paper Norma had given her last week, with the name of a man who called himself a consultant and claimed to be an expert on leading and guiding. He was a business expert, a former Marine and he sounded convincing enough that Leah called immediately and arranged for an interview. Tomorrow he would begin moving her company forward to profitability or he wouldn’t charge a cent; his fee would be a portion of her increased profits. Leah didn’t know whether she was desperate or just plain crazy but she had prayed in earnest and this seemed a suitable answer.



The former Marine commanded attention as he entered the building, standing ramrod straight, blue eyes piercing as they studied every part of the old structure. Leah nearly shrank in his presence, so intimidating was the Marine who asked questions in clipped tones that demanded an exact answer. Intending to take him to her office, she first showed him the large rooms that housed sewing machines, materials and bins full of scrap material. He stared hard and listened intently, and she could only guess what thoughts streamed through his mind as they passed from one room to another.

In her office, Leah held her hand to keep it from shaking as she waited for Sgt. Merchant while he perused the chart hung next to a window that allowed her to see the factory floor at all times. From her elevated perch Leah could observe employees and supervise functions without leaving her office. Most days she was mired in paperwork and nearly a prisoner to her desk as she sorted invoices, talked with customers and ordered supplies. Her phone was the only lifeline to the outside world; often Leah ate, worked and slept in her office with the fold-out sofa bed. She kept clothes for such an occasion and lately her nights consisted of idea sessions with her sister to keep their business afloat.

“Remember dating? Going to lunch with girlfriends?” Pam often sighed. “When did we trade our lives for four walls and miles of material?” Ever practical, Leah reminded her sister that this was their life and income. “Mom’s medical bills alone should keep us working nonstop. Maybe someday, Pam we’ll have a chance for a real life…just not soon.” “I’m not waiting,” Pam said decisively. “You may think it’s all fine and good to bury yourself in work, but I’m going to use this business to get myself a life.”

Today as Leah observed the silent man, his strong chin held high, eyes wrinkled slightly in concentration, she remembered a time that a handsome man might make her weak-kneed. And if this man turned those ice-blue eyes on her Leah might lose her ability to stand altogether, but he was not here to romance her, and she was paying dearly for his advice. The only contact between them would be business, and he most certainly wasn’t her type anyway. Leah liked her men to be warm, funny and….

“Miss Armstrong?” The Sergeant asked, and from his expression, not for the first time. Leah blushed brilliantly and hoped to heaven that he hadn’t realized she was staring.

“Pardon me…I was…” Leah winced as the man raised an eyebrow. “What did you say?”

He crossed his arms. “How many employees per shift?”

Leah waved her arm across the expanse of her window. “Twenty-seven on one shift, days. We were about to add another shift and hire again before…” She bit her lip and fell silent.

The marine wasn’t impressed. “It’s a small company for such a large facility.”

“We bought it for a great price and hoped to utilize more space as our business grew.” She moved away from the window and offered her consultant a cup of coffee. He accepted with proper gratitude and held the cup to his lips as he stared out over the work area. Not knowing what else to do, Leah sat at her desk and opened books that showed the company’s top-heavy finances. On paper it all seemed so simple; more money was going out than coming in. Her bank account was nearly depleted and the mortgage on this building was due in two weeks. Things had to change by then.

“What’s above this floor?” The Sergeant turned and set his cup on her desk.

Moving to prevent a spill, Leah pushed papers back and stood. “Three more floors, all vacant and gutted. Really, nothing at all.”

He grunted and jerked his head toward the door. “Show me.”

Leah swallowed and opened her office door. “Right this way.” She held her breath as the tall, serious man moved past and waited for her in the hall. Why am I so intimidated by this person? He’s here to help me, thought Leah, and I don’t have to pay him unless he’s successful which means I’ll prosper also. Nothing but good can come from his presence unless…Leah caught her breath. What if he finds no way to rescue my business?



The freight elevator groaned and moved slowly between floors of the ancient building. Leah had it fully inspected when she purchased the structure and was confident that all electric equipment was in good working order. Lights on the upper floors were plentiful and she lit the huge open rooms as they moved from third to fourth floor.

“I’m guessing these areas were once used for storage, there doesn’t seem to be any walls or dividers anywhere,” Leah said as they walked across the concrete floor.

“It’s all one room, save the support beams,” Sgt. Merchant agreed. “Electric’s good…insulation…” He checked the windows. “Nasty. You’ll lose heat like crazy in the winter.”

Leah frowned and wondered what heat had to do with her business. They would not use these floors, nor heat them unless space was needed for the workers. For now it was all a moot point.

“I want to see the roof,” Sgt. Merchant ordered, and Leah took him to find the stairs that accessed the top of her building.

“I don’t see…” She started but he forced open the rusted door and went outside without her. Leah made a face and followed.

He stood surveying the outside with as much scrutiny and eye for detail as he showed inside—no pen or paper, just his mind taking note and registering every inch. He pulled at his sleeve, which was almost too tight on his upper arm and Leah watched with fascination as muscles rippled beneath the skin of his arm. He was fit, more than she might ever hope to be. How did a man sculpt his body into such perfection? She watched as he knelt and touched the surface stones on the roof, and somehow Leah knew that his legs were as toned and fit as the rest of him. He must spend all his spare time in a gym, working on his physique. Compared to me whose only exercise is lifting forks to my mouth. Who had time anyway with her company in crisis?

Sgt. Merchant rubbed the grime off his hands and turned toward Leah. She caught her breath and her fingers found their way to her throat as he scrutinized Leah like she was part of the property. His eyes lingered on hers and he seemed about to speak, but thought better of it and turned toward the stairs. Letting out her breath, Leah followed and locked the roof access as they moved down the stairs.



Discipline, thought Gunny. It’s the key to everything, especially to be successful in this lifetime. God is the creator of order, and in a free society it was necessary to have discipline to keep order. So when he walked into Quilts Inc. Gunny he had every intention of whipping employees into shape with strict orders and keep them in line through by-the-book enforcement. What shock to see that every single person was female and surely not one of those had any military training. No matter, by the time he was done, these employees would know the gratification of discipline and following company orders. If they hoped to keep their jobs.

Though he expected the factory owner to greet him immediately, she was tied up on the phone and he was asked to wait while she finished. Experience had taught Gunny that the best way to learn about a person was to observe their behavior when they weren’t aware so he asked to be taken to the room where she was working. She was on the factory floor in a massive open room with windows above that allowed a view from the second level. Sitting on the wooden floor amidst a pile of fabric swatches, Leah Armstrong brushed absently at strawberry blonde hair locks that escaped a clasp and fell into violet eyes as she talked earnestly.

“No, I’m not questioning your integrity, Doctor Maxwell…I just think we need a new, fresh opinion. Mom’s on so many pills and I’m worried they’ll do more harm than good in her body.” She frowned and turned red but her voice stayed steady as the person on the other line disagreed about her mother’s care.

“I don’t want another doctor…no of course I’m not as learned, I just know my mother…”

The man must have scolded her; she apologized profusely and hung the phone, her mother’s plight still not resolved.

“He’s going to kill her, and she’s going to let him,” the woman cried softly to one of the women and wiped at her eyes. She stopped, feeling a presence in the room and looked quickly at the door. Gunny stepped inside and shook her hand, introducing himself as the consultant.

“I’m so glad to meet you,” She said sincerely, though she seemed to recoil slightly at the sight of him. “I’m Leah Armstrong, we spoke on the phone.”

Her hand was warm and soft, the skin silken and fragrant. But her clothes were rumpled, as if she had slept in them, and threads stuck to her shirt and pants, giving a fuzzy air, as if she was unraveling.

“Pardon my appearance,” Leah said, wiping at her shirt. “I’m trying to put new fabric sequences together for a winter line of quilts. It takes oodles of samples to find the right combination.”

Oodles? Gunny raised his eyebrows slightly at the word he had not heard for many years. Celia, Gunny’s mother loved to tease her son and his spit-polish father, who only used descriptive words gleaned from other Marines. Gunny’s mother was as feminine as her husband was masculine and her men loved Celia deeply. She was the most beautiful woman Gunny had ever seen until this very moment when Leah rose from the floor and shook his hand.

After a tour of the first two floors of the facility, they stopped at her office.

“Would you like coffee?” She offered, pouring a cup before he answered.

“I’d really rather get right to work,” He said, but thanked her, accepted the hot liquid and stared out over the work area. Her perfume invaded his senses and only Gunny’s sense of propriety and discipline kept him from becoming dizzy or staring at this lovely, fragrant woman. He had no place in his life for anything except work and grief, both of which occupied every waking moment. Women were completely out of the question; too exhausting and he never understood them anyway, with their teardrops and emotional outbursts. Tears were not a part of Gunny’s life until his father died; he had cried only once in his entire lifetime, and that was when he received the Eagle, Globe and Anchor emblem after completing the Crucible at Parris Island. No recruit made it through the fifty four-hour test and near sleepless nights without losing it at the ceremony. Gunny was no different but he considered that one moment more a reward than weakness. Who wouldn’t cry with pride after completing such a grueling test? He never cried again, until his father died and Gunny was among the grown men who wept as they carried his flag-draped casket out of the church. And no amount of discipline could stop the tears as they lowered his father into the ground. His dad told him never to cry and he would not be proud of his son’s demeanor at the funeral.

Steeling himself against the woman’s warm smile, Gunny barked an order to show him the upper floors and mentally kicked himself when she hesitated, her face unsure. She thinks I’m a bully, Gunny thought, and it shouldn’t have mattered; a man in his position had to prove leadership ability. It’s what she would pay him for, but a shadow passed over her face and Gunny was struck that he had turned her smile from a warm greeting to a frozen, polite grin. He wasn’t about to order her around; Quilts Inc. was her company. But if he didn’t build a wall between them now, she might breach his self-imposed borders that kept the world at bay. He couldn’t afford any more emotion in his life; his father, whom he loved dearly left Gunny and the pain he carried was heavier than any weight in the gym. If he didn’t feel, he couldn’t get hurt, simple as that. And no lovely, feminine shop owner would divert his attention away from his goal.

“Today I plan to look over your building and workers and tomorrow we’ll go through books,” Gunny said, following Leah down the hallway that was open to the work floor. He saw women at various workstations, assembling material and fabric into colorful quilts. They were then hand processed, packed and labeled to clients. At the far end of the room sat rows of boxes, piled high with no destination marked on the outside. Leah’s company was way overstaffed; the first thing Gunny planned to do was cut the workforce.

“I need detailed job descriptions for each employee, including you and your partner.”

“My sister,” corrected Leah. “We’re 50-50 partners.”

He listened as Leah described her responsibility to run the factory while Pam handled marketing and promotion. It was an uneven partnership, not as she described; he had a hunch that when he examined the books he would find a hefty travel and dinner allowance for Pam’s ventures. She was not here today, wasn’t expected for another week, according to Leah, and gone more than at the facility.

He had the owner show him the rest of her building, and eyed each floor critically, thinking of ways she could use the structure to build income. Two floors were completely empty and stripped of walls and dividers. Nothing would need to be removed or rerouted; the only problem was the windows that seeped air and would have to be replaced. Gunny pictured living spaces rented out to urbanites and people who worked in busy downtown area. There was ample parking close, and shops. Gunny wondered why no one had considered this before; this building was a prime piece of property even without the factory profits.

She doesn’t see the big picture, realized Gunny as he studied the woman’s soft strawberry curls that escaped from her clasp. There’s no doubt this woman is a hard worker, I can see it in her clothes and hands, but as she explained on the phone, this business that was started to make a few extra dollars had expanded too rapidly for her to keep up. All she had done was start making more to keep up with demand, and not planned for future projects. Business never stayed the same, it ebbed and flowed…like the way she walks, graceful as if swaying across a dance floor …Gunny had to blink a few times to clear his head. Leah’s cheeks blushed pink and he realized that he had been staring. He started to apologize, then thought better of it and turned to find the stairs.



He’s very hard to discern, thought Leah as they returned to her office. I’m not accustomed to being ordered around and it’s almost like he’s…my superior, Leah thought with a tinge of resentment. I worked very hard to get this company where it is, sacrificed everything—my personal life, sleep, time. I need to make him understand that I’m capable of managing my own business; I just want his advice and vision for the future.

“You need to find your mother another doctor.”

“Pardon?” Leah stopped mid-stride.

The Sergeant finished closing the door for her and indicated that she should sit. Leah obeyed without comment. He sat on the corner of her desk and shook his head. “What I mean is, you pay the doctor to care for your mother. He works for you, not the other way around. If you have no confidence in this man, do research; find another doctor in whom you can trust. Your mom’s life is at stake.”

Leah’s eyes misted and she sat heavily in the chair at her desk. “Whenever I question him, the doctor acts insulted and he…intimidates me. I hate to admit that.”

“He’s out a whole lot of money if you jump ship. Do it anyway.”

“I’m not sure I can.” She shuffled papers. “Mom seems to trust him implicitly. She’s been ailing as long as I can remember, and honestly…” Leah stopped. Surely he didn’t care to hear her personal troubles.

The man waited anyway.

Leah sighed. “It’s my problem, I’m sorry.”

He crossed his arms. “I watched as my mother was medicated almost to death. She took pills to counteract other pills and more on top of that. So my father and I searched the Internet for other options. We saved her life, that’s my opinion.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Leah said, wiping at her eye. “How much medicine is too much?”

“You know your mother best.”

Leah showed him the quilt that hung on her wall in a huge glass frame. “She made this gift for my tenth birthday. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, next to my cat, Ming. It took her almost five years to make, look at the detail! I learned later that she spent sleepless nights, determined to finish this for me, and of course I didn’t appreciate it then. But now…” Leah touched the glass and sighed. “She taught Pam and me to sew; who knew it would become our source of income?”

“It’s good to have a skill.” He moved to the leather chair that sat near her desk. “How did you pass that talent on to your workers? It seems a quilt is a very personal work of art.”

She smiled at his compliment. “By teaching them only one particular job, and then I supervise the actual piecing together. We developed different lines with various patterns and the women have become very proficient at making these items.” Leah found her binder that held pictures and sample swatches from each quilt in different categories. He perused them slowly as if memorizing each one and asked for paper. Making notes to himself, the sergeant immersed himself in her book while Leah watched then she went to her desk and started working on payroll. Friday was payday but she had to plan ahead for next week and her ever shrinking bank balance made Leah’s stomach tighten in worry.

“Do you have a copy of your catalog?” Sgt. Merchant asked.

“Catalog?” Leah replied. “We have the sample book that Pam takes to stores and distribution outlets.”

He shook his head. “I mean a catalog that can be mailed to every home in America, with pictures of your product.”

Leah blushed as she admitted they hadn’t thought of marketing their product in the mail, though Pam had arranged for a company to create a website for Quilts, Inc. “I worry that we may not be able to cover the expense of printing a catalog and sending it in the mail.”

“Tell me, Miss Armstrong, where would you like to be in five years?” Sgt. Merchant asked, his blue eyes steadfast on hers. When she couldn’t respond, he amended his question. “Two years? Five months? Five days?”

In your arms, Leah’s mind answered impulsively. She willed away the thought; glad he couldn’t hear. “I just want to pay my help, cure my mother and make this business profitable.”

That wasn’t what he meant, the man explained, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. “Your answers are too vague, Miss Armstrong. What I need from you is concrete ideas on how to grow your business.”

“I…I thought that’s what I’m paying you for,” Leah replied. “If I had ideas, good ones, we would have no need for outside consultation.”

“Miss Armstrong,” he said as if calling Leah to attention. “I have no intention of telling you how to run your business. It’s my job to make suggestions on how to better use the ideas and business concepts you already have. For instance…” He stood and went to the wall where her mother’s quilt hung. “Your mother has an incredible gift for detail, and I see that you aim to do the same on your creations.” The book that he had been paging through was open to her best quilt, done in roses and lace. He stared at it for a few minutes.

“It’s our attention to detail that sets us apart from other, factory-made quilts.” Leah moved to his side of the desk and pulled a chair to where he sat. She showed him a less detailed version of the same quilt, with fewer panels. “I wanted to keep away from the appearance of mass production. We seem to have accomplished that but it still takes a great many workers for a personalized touch.”

“How many can you make in a day?”

She thought for a moment. “Of which one?”

The sergeant pointed to the less detailed quilt. “This one. You need to present only one to the market, if you want to sell it in mass quantities. Then keep a separate, exclusive line for more discriminating markets.”

“We can make up to twenty, I believe.” Leah watched as he made columns to list quilts separately.

He showed her his writings and pointed to the book. “So you have already developed two separate and equally important markets for your work; one more affordable. You need to market them to reach two different kinds of clientele.”

Leah understood his point now. Somewhere in the back of her mind this thought had formed but for some reason—maybe because she had a thousand other worries, Leah had not been able to recognize the potential of two separate markets for her work.

“Every line I sell is separated into two different versions,” Leah said, showing Sgt. Merchant other pages. “All my quilts and bags have a simple style and one that we made just for decoration…a waste of money, Pam says.”

“Not at all,” replied the sergeant. “You created a market for your goods by reviewing things you already have.”

“Oh! I understand now, Sergeant! Tell me more.” Leah clapped and squeezed his arm, which was muscular and hard to her touch. He stiffened slightly as if offended at her impulsive gesture, and Leah immediately released him. She had over-stepped the boundary of business etiquette, and blushed in embarrassment at her gaffe. Though he said nothing, Leah was sure that the Sergeant disapproved and she would have to be much more professional around this much disciplined man. I’m not used to such…propriety, Leah thought. Her workers were like an extended family. To be so reserved like Sgt. Merchant…Leah wondered at the demeanor of this man who counseled her. It must be his military training; she decided and tried not to take his aloofness personally.



When she touched his arm it nearly caught fire. Only Gunny’s discipline and training kept him from jerking away and jumping from the chair. He could barely breathe with her so close, and it disturbed him to a great degree that this woman had such an effect. It’s not as if he hadn’t been close to a woman before; there was his mother, and aunts…and three years ago a date to the Marine Ball. In a flash he pictured himself in dress blues and suddenly a yearning for the life he had embraced for so many years flooded Gunny with an overwhelming rush. You have a new existence, he told his mind but his heart belonged to the Corps for so many years, most of his life. I’m as lost without them as I am without my father, he realized. I’m without both and now I’m just one more working stiff living day to day in a world where I don’t belong. Mom tried to tell me this would happen if I left the Marine Corps and at the time I thought she was wrong…

Gunny shook off his thoughts and asked Miss Armstrong to take him once again to the floors above. She eyed him curiously but obeyed and this time he showed her the building with an eye for what could be. Attentive and accommodating, Leah listened to his suggestions with the eagerness of a schoolgirl wanting to know all she could. He was gratified to see the light in her head click on as she realized the vision of apartments, lofts and other uses for the building that would bring much needed capital into her business and personal life.

“I could live here,” Leah remarked as she moved from one floor to the next. “I practically do anyway; I can’t tell you how many nights I slept on the sofa in my office.”

Gunny believed that; it was his first thought when he saw her all rumpled this morning. “What about security? You have proper alarm systems?”

She nodded. “Yes, but not for these upper floors.”

“If you’re staying here alone, it would be best, Miss Armstrong.” He showed her how anyone could climb the fire escape and gain access to the building. “If your husband or boyfriend knows how to install locks, have him put them on all floors.” What kind of remark was that? Gunny didn’t need to know if she was attached, he had no intention whatsoever of pursuing a relationship, especially if it was someone who employed his services! Gunny was extremely grateful that she could not hear his rebellious thoughts.

“You can call me Leah.” Her lips turned up in a most enticing grin. “It is Miss…I’m not married or even….” The grin froze on her face. “You have to understand I’m a busy person.”

He had offended her. No woman wanted to admit she wasn’t dating. Gunny kicked himself mentally and determined to keep things professional; she expected no less, he was sure. Still his stomach sent a message of relief and encouragement that he tried desperately to ignore.

“Women like you don’t need a home and family to be fulfilled.” He meant it as a compliment but her face darkened and she turned away. Once again Gunny had offended this lovely female. Wondering how he might redeem himself after two obvious missteps, Gunny gripped a pencil so tight he broke it in half. Discipline, remember?

“Ooh, Sergeant, you’re bleeding.” Leah noticed and was already opening her office door. She disappeared but returned shortly with a warm wash cloth and a box of Band-Aids. She wiped his hand gently and cleaned away the lead, then placed a bandage on the fleshy part of his palm as if he were a child, not a former Marine who had lived through much worse injuries than a slight cut. Her ministrations were soothing, and against his better judgement, Gunny allowed himself to enjoy her touch.

“There.” Leah closed the box lid. “I would think a man like you to be made of iron but you bleed like the rest of us.”

“Miss Armstrong—“

“Leah.”

Gunny nodded. “Leah. I apologize for my insensitive comments. I’m not very…ah, skilled in conversation. Ask me to take on a thousand enemy fighters or disarm a landmine with my eyes closed and I’m in, but not being married except to the Corps…well we weren’t taught social skills.”

Her eyes softened. “Oh, of course, that makes perfect sense.” With that she left the room and he waited, shaking his now throbbing hand. How deep did that pencil cut? And what was it that he saw in her eyes, almost relief? Encouragement? No, he had to be imagining things. From now on it was business, nothing else. He didn’t need to love and lose one more person, and if his instincts were right, Leah was very loveable. Gunny didn’t dare find out for sure.

by Diana Mylek (email: Drmarcia1@aol.com)

More About the Author:
Diana Mylek has published Melody of the Heart, Paperback, I-Universe, BarnesandNoble.com, Amazon.com, Booksamillion.com, Target.com. Pick up her book today!




HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Diana Mylek to thank her for submitting her piece or if you have a comment! She would really like to hear from you.





Return to Lock, Stock and Barrel