Jessica Bledsoe Hayworth

contact me

homeJessica Bledsoe HayworthAuthor of Marty MattersContact:jessicahayworth_hotmail.com

Jessica Hayworth

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Bio

I was born and raised in the rolling hills of Southwest Virginia. I received my Bachelors Degree in Education from Carson Newman College and my Reading Specialist Masters from East Tennessee State University. I have been a teacher for 10 years.I now live with my wonderful husband, beautiful son and two dogs in Kingsport, Tennessee.portfolio

Books

slide 1slide 2slide 3eu blandit vel magna Fusce nec orci eget tellus sodales vehicula Maecenas condimentum lectus vel eros Donec id felis et metus lacinia gokj slide 4eu blandit vel magna Fusce nec orci eget tellus sodales vehicula Maecenas condimentum lectus vel eros Donec id felis et metus lacinia gokj slide 5eu blandit vel magna Fusce nec orci eget tellus sodales vehicula Maecenas condimentum lectus vel eros Donec id felis et metus lacinia gokj slide 6Page 7Marty Matters will be released in January!You can pre-order now by clicking the PayPal button to the right!Also visit:www.littlecreekbooks.com

Buy Now!

catwalks

Upcoming Events

July 3rdBristol July 4th Celebration ActivitiiesBook SigningsI am available for school bookings to do book talksand book signings! Please email me atjessicahayworth_hotmai.com

Trip to Stickleyville

and Flatwoods

contactChapter 1"I don't want to go," I screamed. "Marty, you don't have a choice. I mean, we don't have a choice. This is just the way it is! You know that!" Mom said. "Well I don't understand WHY! You know how to stop this! Please don't make me go. I don't think I can handle it again!" I pleaded. She didn't listen. She cried while she continued to pack our belongings. Although she tried to be strong, I knew she didn't want to go either. I could see it in her face. It's not like it should've taken her that long to pack. What did we really have, besides a few pieces of badly matched furniture, all of which had lived a previous life? We didn't possess much. All of our clothing was given to us by people who either felt sorry for us or just didn't want to see us dressed badly. I couldn't tell which. Sure, being a kid in middle school was hard enough, but wearing hand me down clothes make it that much harder. I tried to ignore what the kids said about me and be thankful for what I had. That was so hard to do. More than I hated it for me, I hated it for my mother. She was a beautiful woman. She had long, wavy blonde hair and bright green eyes. When she walked into a room, everyone seemed to notice her. She seemed to have an air about her. People seemed drawn to her. I just wished she could look like I knew she wanted to look. Our couch was given to us by a woman my mom worked for. Every Tuesday, Mom would clean her home. She gave us things that she didn't really want anymore. I loved this couch. It was perfect in every way. It was so fluffy, like a marshmallow. I could tell it had once been expensive. The cool cotton cover was soft. I can't really explain why the softness is what I loved the most. It just made me feel a certain way. It made me feel cozy and comfortable. I think the couch was everything I wanted. Although I knew it to be wrong, I felt envious. Envy. Perfect. The couch was the color of envy! I think that is exactly why I loved it. It was everything I wanted: comfort, love, stability, and well, the hope of money for my family.I prayed and hoped that this wouldn't happen again. I had already gone through so much and was only twelve. I didn't know any other kids that had had a life like mine. I knew I should be thankful for the things I did have; but as a kid, it was hard. Was it too much to ask to stay in the same place? Was it too much to ask to have things like the other kids had? I vowed I'd never treat my kids like I had been treated. Only six more years of this. I couldn't wait to grow up.Page 6Chapter 1"I don't want to go, "I screamed. "Marty, you don't have a choice. I mean, we don't have a choice. This is just the way it is! You know that!" Mom said. "Well I don't understand WHY! You know how to stop this! Please don't make me go. I don't think I can handle it again!" I pleaded. She didn't listen. She cried while she continued to pack our belongings. Although she tried to be strong, I knew she didn't want to go either. I could see it in her face. It's not like it should've taken her that long to pack. What did we really have, besides a few pieces of badly matched furniture, all of which had lived a previous life? We didn't possess much. All of our clothing was given to us by people who either felt sorry for us or just didn't want to see us dressed badly. I couldn't tell which. Sure, being a kid in middle school was hard enough, but wearing hand me down clothes make it that much harder. I tried to ignore what the kids said about me and be thankful for what I had. That was so hard to do. More than I hated it for me, I hated it for my mother. She was a beautiful woman. She had long, wavy blonde hair and bright green eyes. When she walked into a room, everyone seemed to notice her. She seemed to have an air about her. People seemed drawn to her. I just wished she could look like I knew she wanted to look. Our couch was given to us by a woman my mom worked for. Every Tuesday, Mom would clean her home. She gave us things that she didn't really want anymore. I loved this couch. It was perfect in every way. It was so fluffy, like a marshmallow. I could tell it had once been expensive. The cool cotton cover was soft. I can't really explain why the softness is what I loved the most. It just made me feel a certain way. It made me feel cozy and comfortable. I think the couch was everything I wanted. Although I knew it to be wrong, I felt envious. Envy. Perfect. The couch was the color of envy! I think that is exactly why I loved it. It was everything I wanted: comfort, love, stability, and well, the hope of money for my family.I prayed and hoped that this wouldn't happen again. I had already gone through so much and was only twelve. I didn"t know any other kids that had had a life like mine. I knew I should be thankful for the things I did have; but as a kid, it was hard. Was it too much to ask to stay in the same place? Was it too much to ask to have things like the other kids had? I vowed I'd never treat my kids like I had been treated. Only six more years of this. I couldn't wait to grow up. homeinfoportfoliocatwalkscontactPage 6 ©CompanyName 2008-2009 All human and animal rights carefully reserved and preserved.

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