by: Susan Reinhardt
Genre: Women’s Fiction
Release Date: March 7, 2023
Publisher: Regal House Publishing
Eighty-four seconds can change your life. Or destroy it. Josie Nickels is an Emmy-winning news anchor, poised to rise through the ranks of television journalism. On a bitter March evening on live TV, the pressures and secrets burbling behind the closed doors of her ridiculous Victorian mansion explode and the overwhelmed journalist spills family secrets like a Baptist at altar call. The aftermath costs her much more than a career. It robs her of a beloved son—a preppy, educated millennial trapped in the deadly world of addiction. Desperate for a new start and a way to save her son, Josie packs up her pride, her young daughter, and accepts a new job slinging cosmetics at a department store make-up counter with other disgraced celebs. In the gorgeous mountains of Asheville N.C., known for hippies, healings, and Subarus, Josie is faced with a choice for her son: Take a chance on a bold, out-of-the-ordinary treatment plan for her son or lose him forever. This heart-wrenching and, at times, hilarious novel, will delight fans of book-club women’s fiction and inspire and give hope to those with addicted sons and daughters.
“My darling son: The machines do the work. The breathing. If they go, you go. This much they said. This much I’m struggling to believe. In the weeks after you were born, I’d kneel at your cradle and watch you breathe. Every night after you fed from my body and lay dry and cocooned, I counted your breaths. I had to because sometimes you’d hesitate as if unsure what came next. One, two, three. One, skip, two. One, skip, skip. I’d nudge the cradle and startle you into another gasp of existence.
I did this every night until my knees grew raw on the cold hardwood floor and my sleep-starved eyes shut down. It seemed you were hesitant about this life outside of me, not sure you wanted the air that sustained, almost as if testing this world before it had a chance to do the same to you. Sometimes I never made it to my bed across the room.
I’d awaken in a spill of moonlight, clumped and aching beneath your cradle. Mouth dry and hanging open, foot kicking that oak siding just to keep you going. Now, more than twenty-three years later, I am doing it again. We’re back to this two-step, this tango, this breathing game. I am counting the rise and falls of your chest and gently tapping the metal railings of your bed. The machine breathes and releases. It’s a dance, a rhythm.
I did this every night until my knees grew raw on the cold hardwood floor and my sleep-starved eyes shut down. It seemed you were hesitant about this life outside of me, not sure you wanted the air that sustained, almost as if testing this world before it had a chance to do the same to you. Sometimes I never made it to my bed across the room.
I’d awaken in a spill of moonlight, clumped and aching beneath your cradle. Mouth dry and hanging open, foot kicking that oak siding just to keep you going. Now, more than twenty-three years later, I am doing it again. We’re back to this two-step, this tango, this breathing game. I am counting the rise and falls of your chest and gently tapping the metal railings of your bed. The machine breathes and releases. It’s a dance, a rhythm.
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Bucking the norm, Susan spent her free time water skiing almost every day, fishing, and pining for a ragamuffin boy who was always up to no good.
Earlier in her college years, she pursued nursing, but most of her patients were terminal and her mastery and frequency of giving enemas had her questioning this line of work, though she adores nurses and often wishes she’d have stuck with the field.
She recently took a part-time job caring for adults with disabilities and loves the work, figuring it would at least make up for past misdeeds and get her a better shot at the Pearly Gates.
Writing has always been her first love. And she became good enough at it to earn many dozens of awards, including three Best of Gannetts for her feature stories and columns. Along with a bunch of other junk that really doesn't matter in the end.
What matters to Reinhardt is making people laugh. And think. And love others.
She is married to her second and final husband, country and genius lawyer Donny Laws who is bald but has a ponytail and loves to ride a bike. She has two adult kids, three steps, and a granddaughter.
She’s been on national TV, has modeled for one glossy magazine, and was the subject of a British documentary on aging and body image. She hopes that the documentary is lost and never resurfaces.
She once had a radio show called Susan Uncensored; a sold-out one-woman show called “From Hilarity to Insanity and Back.”
She no longer water skis but performs fairly decent front and backflips from a diving board and half-ass rides a unicycle and twirls a baton simultaneously.
Her hobbies include a vintage camper obsession and she’s owned three. Recently she’s settled on her 1968 Scotsman, which she hopes to paint pink and teal with polka-dots and haul on book tours.
She has two rescue cats who vehemently hate each other.
In her next life, she’d like to be a figure skater.
Places to find Susan Reinhardt:
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ReplyDeleteSounds like a great read.
ReplyDeleteThis book sounds really good as my family has had people struggle with addictions.
ReplyDeleteWow! sounds like a wonderful and deep read.
ReplyDelete