It didn’t sink in that me, Liz had published a book when I first saw Stretch Marks and the familiar layout on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. My Man and I hugged and toasted, but I felt more relieved than anything else.
Then the phone calls and emails made me flutter with sparing moments of happy, but it still felt distant.
It hadn’t sunk in until the afternoon I walked into my hometown bookstore, hardly pausing at the aisle displays, and headed for the Local Authors section. Seconds later I saw, gasped, and stared at the book cover I helped design.
I was a cliché: hands to heart, blushing, grinning, and rocking myself with enormous satisfaction and pride. I knelt down and stared from every angle, before taking photographs, oblivious to the fact that my rear end blocked the flow of busy traffic.
I was that author staring back at me in bold black print.
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