Welcome to Becca Wilhite's Author Site
Enjoy Sweet Romantic Comedy

Category: history

Dear 17-year-old Becca

There are some things I want to say to you, seventeen-year-old me. You’ve had a rough couple of years. You lost your mom. You moved halfway across the country, from the land of many trees and much summer rainfall to the land of many mountains and drastic road construction activities. You gained a new family,
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Listen to my Voice (Guest Post by Macy Robison)

***WE HAVE A WINNER! Bethany, Congratulations. I’ll get a copy of Macy’s CD out to you right away.*** Today, we have a guest post from a wonderful friend I’ve loved since I was sixteen. (Yes. I was once sixteen. Yes. That was a very, very long time ago.) Macy went to high school with me.
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Another Guest Post (Why, You’re Welcome!)

**UPDATE** Leave Comment. Win Amazon Gift Card. You’re welcome again. Okay, guys. My excellent older brother has written one more post for my February Fun guest blogging fest. This one is really sweet, because it’s all abou me. Oh, wait. It’s really not about me. But he sor of makes it about me, because …
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Look. More History.

My Uncle R. sent me this photo. He is the family historian I’ve mentioned before. And he has a great deal of patience to find and deliver pieces of history. Like this one. This is my big brother. See how he’s cute? Yeah, still. But more old. And hairy. Just saying. See how he’s probably
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Stuff, and Things, and What Matters, Anyway

Sometimes I tell stories more than once. So stop me if you’ve heard this one before… Once upon a time my smaller, younger family moved to Indianapolis. We found a great little neighborhood to live in, and we bought a cute little house for our cute little selves. The trees were enormous, the mortgage was
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Duck Tales

I sort of promised you a story. And here it is. Once upon a time, we lived in Oklahoma. No, I am not making that up. We lived there for 51 weeks. And we loved everything, everything about it. Everything. (Except the job.) (And the weather.) Oklahoma is a lovely, wonderful place. As long as
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It’s about Today, and 20 years ago…

Today, kids, is my 20th (twentieth) year high school reunion. You know that feeling, the one that you catch a glimpse of yourself in a photo or the mirror or the car window and you gasp and go, “Holy stink, when did I get so old?” The answer is Today. (For me. Not for you.
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The Fun Parts

Remember college? I do. And remember that I have an awesome dad? Then and now? So back in the day in the spring of my senior year in HS, my dad took me in to the university registrar’s office (and there’s a long story about the registrar, and how my Grandma Jennie would have rather
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