Ripple
When high-powered attorney Helen Thompson discovers that her fifteen-year old daughter has been sexually assaulted, she takes drastic measures.
Finding herself in trouble, Helen must relinquish control and put her faith in a process she knows to be flawed. As a team of lawyers, therapists and women from a safe house help Helen and Phoebe find hope and healing, a sociopath lurks, waiting for his moment to strike.
A lyrical, dark fairytale that will resonate with fans of women’s literature and psychological thrillers, RIPPLE delves into the nature of evil, without seeking to provide final answers to the issue of what makes a human commit evil acts. And while the author takes readers to scary places, she ultimately shines a light on the human condition and celebrates the triumph of the human spirit in the face of great tribulation.
Excerpt:
Clinging to his stuffed chicken and matchbox car, he looked wee, scruffy and intimidated yet excited as he jumped beside her into the only puddle within a hundred yards of their SUV. Mud splashed on both of them and Cassandra grinned with amusement. Zander grinned back at her.
“Well, I’ll be!” Mimi Harrington had a voice that could fill an auditorium and a body wide enough to block an aisle. In two short strides she had covered the remaining distance and enveloped Cassandra in a comforting hug. Mimi, along with Miranda, managed the Bryson House and had been there from the beginning.
Mimi’s long, thick gray hair smelled like shampoo, and Cassandra’s thoughts drifted. It was funny how someone’s smell could be such a distinct piece of them, like a man’s aftershave or a baby’s gentle soap. When Cassandra thought of Mimi Harrington, she thought of clean soap and shampoo.
Mimi, her long skirt flowing in the breeze, patted Cassandra’s shoulder and turned to Zander. “Hey, young man. You brought me breakfast. I like you already.”
Cassandra took the box, handed Zander a doughnut and passed the box to Mimi. “Zander, this is my friend, Ms. Mimi. She knew Cat when she was smaller than you.”
Zander shifted his feet and hopped again, his eyes focused on something in the distance, clearly waiting for his mother to dismiss him. Cassandra bent over and kissed his forehead. “Okay, run ahead to the horses, but do not go past the fence. I’ll be right behind you.”
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About 
Ex-lawyer E.L. Farris is a born-again, marathon-running married mother of three who resides in Northern Virginia.
What else do you need to know about me? I talk a lot. I write a lot. I adore my husband. I adore my children. What else? Well, I run. I’ve been running since I turned 14. I started to run then and I’ve been running ever since. Whenever I stop running, I land in a lot of trouble.
I ran through a childhood that could well be described as hell. I ran through major depressive episodes and often teetered one step from the edge of a breakdown. Through running, I held onto my sanity, my sobriety, my life and my belief in God. Each step I take, no matter how physically painful, draws me a shade closer into my better angels.
And the steps have become painful over the years, which is how I earned the nickname Phoenix. Some mornings I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus and the truth is, I was. I survived a collision with a metro bus, and it’s fair to say that the accident messed me up. And yet I keep rising from the pyre of a burning fire and as I run I realize that as long as I hold the Holy Spirit inside me, my spirit will never die.
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