In its earliest incarnation Savannah of Williamsburg was nothing more than a simple, contemporary, twenty-page children's book titled The Capital Squirrel . Set in Washington, D.C., it was the wee adventure of a wee squirrel living on the grounds of the U.S. Capitol building and exploring the country's capital city from within the pocket of a friend, the fictitious Senator Sheridan. My Miss Savannah Prudence Squirrel didn't even have a name back then!

That wee tale I sent to Mrs. Barbara Bush as a simple thank you to her for past years of grace, manners and kindness to the country as our first lady. It was nothing more than a little gift from an admiring, American girl. In keeping with said-grace and -manners, this is what she sent back to me. Today, well into finishing the fourth book of what evolved into my Savannah of Williamsburg series of historical-fiction novels, I still cherish this note and use it as inspiration when the details and subject matter of an oncoming American Revolution prove almost too much to which my brain and tenacity can attend. Thank you, Mrs. Bush!

Once upon a time there was a talented, sparkling, beauteous rocker named Leah Cevoli from the City of Brotherly Love. One day, in the historical land of Ben Franklin, The Barrymores, Will Smith and Liz Lemon, the fair Leah heard the Siren’s Song knell through Philadelphia’s brick corridors and colorful tulip gardens. Taking the form of The Black Crowes so she alone would hear it, the song trilled, lilted and riffed amidst the city streets, beckoning her independent and creative soul to the land of plenty: plenty of sunshine, plenty of sea, plenty of opportunity, plenty of cabbage, plenty of thee.