Let's get to know Debbie White
Debbie currently resides in beautiful Sonoma County,
California, where the jagged Pacific coastline meets the rolling hills
cascading with vineyards. She writes romance novellas that feature strong,
independent women, who when faced with adversity, or tragedy, fine strength and
overcome the perils that stand in their way. She’s an avid supporter of animal
rescue, and happily donates a portion of sales from her books to rescue
organizations. She has two adult children, and two granddaughters. In her spare
time, she loves to garden, travel; enjoy family, and her beloved rescue dogs,
Dash and Briar. Her real passion of course is writing, and she uses her 20+
years as a military wife as inspiration for her stories. The Salty Dog takes
places in Bodega, a small fishing community she has the pleasure of visiting
often. The project she is currently working on involves travel to exotic and
foreign places, another area she has experience.
Make sure you follow Debbie's pages!
Ties That Bind is one woman’s journey on the path to
self-discovery as she puts the pieces of her past together. Pat always knew she was adopted; she was
reminded of it daily. What she didn’t know was the depth of the cover-up. With
her private investigator husband, Charles, the couple takes off from California
to Iowa to uncover the deep, dark secrets
that have plagued her for more than half her life. Her journey to find out the
truth exposes a more meaningful discovery giving Pat the peace she always
yearned for.Purchase your copy here:
This Book will be free from 27 Nov - 1 Dec!!!
Debbie's The Book Salty Dog will also be free during that time. You can purchase your free copy of The Salty Dog here
Debbie's The Book Salty Dog will also be free during that time. You can purchase your free copy of The Salty Dog here
Snippet 1
Sometimes I’d reminisce about my days in Iowa. I’d try to remember conversations with family and friends to see if I could put any of the pieces to the puzzle together regarding my adoption. I usually came up empty handed, or at the very least became frustrated by the mere fact I lived so far away from my earliest beginnings.
These were the days before computers, the Internet, and Google. I wrote to the city records department to get a certified copy of my birth certificate only to be told there wasn’t one. Instead, I received a copy of a certificate of live birth with both Irma and Lyle; my adoptive parents listed. I wrote again, and inquired about the adoption specifically, and received yet another correspondence saying the adoption was closed and no information could be released. It seemed one roadblock after another was placed in my way as I tried to discover who my biological parents were.
As Charles and I got to know one another, my adoption became a topic of interest with him. His investigative personality was intrigued by it, and he would often ask me questions surrounding the event. I’d try to tell him as much as I recalled. Much of it was fuzzy. I told him I personally thought I was connected to the family in some way, and that a big secret was being kept buried. I told him the few incidents of words slipping from family member’s mouths, and how my daddy’s sisters - my aunts loved me to pieces. The biggest clue that I may belong to the family in some way was the way in which Irma; my mother, treated me and my half-sister, Teresa.
These were the days before computers, the Internet, and Google. I wrote to the city records department to get a certified copy of my birth certificate only to be told there wasn’t one. Instead, I received a copy of a certificate of live birth with both Irma and Lyle; my adoptive parents listed. I wrote again, and inquired about the adoption specifically, and received yet another correspondence saying the adoption was closed and no information could be released. It seemed one roadblock after another was placed in my way as I tried to discover who my biological parents were.
As Charles and I got to know one another, my adoption became a topic of interest with him. His investigative personality was intrigued by it, and he would often ask me questions surrounding the event. I’d try to tell him as much as I recalled. Much of it was fuzzy. I told him I personally thought I was connected to the family in some way, and that a big secret was being kept buried. I told him the few incidents of words slipping from family member’s mouths, and how my daddy’s sisters - my aunts loved me to pieces. The biggest clue that I may belong to the family in some way was the way in which Irma; my mother, treated me and my half-sister, Teresa.
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