by: Jessica Rakus
Genre: Women’s Fiction
Release Date: December 1, 2025
Publisher: Longest Night Press
Josephine Grant lives a charmed life - a husband, three perfect children, strong bonds with family and friends in the small town where she's lived her entire life. She's the helper, the hostess, the one who always shows up. The person who can do it all.
Then the bus carrying her son's basketball team crashes, and Jo's husband and son are among the lives lost. Now she has a new identity. Widow. Single mother. Woman who lost everything. Grief begins to tear apart the place that's always been her home. Infighting among friends. Gossip and rumors. Wounds that may never heal and bonds that just might.
Now Jo has to rebuild her life, but as the person who thinks of herself as the helper, asking others to help hold her together is impossible. Jo must learn to lean on others as she learns to stand on her own.
Take us through your writing process. What was hard? And how did you handle the emotional parts?
My process always starts with the characters. I have a vague idea of something bad that’s going to happen to someone, and then I start crafting that someone, and the people around her. This book would be completely different if my main character was someone else from the story, even if the exact same events unfolded. Once I knew Jo (the main character and narrator), I knew the story. From there, I tend to just write. I’m very much a “pantser,” letting the story unfold as I go with little or no prior planning. Of course, the lack of planning usually means some extra work on the editing side.
This specific book came to me easily, as far as the actual words on paper. The emotional part was harder. I cried while writing, while editing, while re-reading. Horrible things happen to my characters in this book, and when they wept from the things I was doing to them, I wept with them. Sometimes I would have to walk away from the story while I gathered myself. Sometimes I would take time to work on the easier parts of the book - light or funny moments. Sometimes I would work on other projects (and sometimes this book would be my refuge when those other projects became the too sad ones). With this specific book, I’d started writing it because I was already feeling too many emotions - the Humboldt Broncos bus crash in April 2018 had hit my emotions hard. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but as long as I was crying due to a real life tragedy, I could put those tears into a story. In a way, I wanted to make myself sad, in a controlled way I could put down, the same way I love watching a scary movie to get that adrenaline hit and then move on.
I handed my husband his sneakers, shoes he should have been able to keep better track of, given how often he wore them. At least he didn’t leave them where I’d trip on them, like the kids did.
“Thanks, Jo, you're a lifesaver.” He cupped my face with his free hand. My shoulders relaxed and I melted against him, forgetting all the things on my to do list. My eyes drifted shut as he kissed me, the lingering kiss we were rarely allowed, with three kids running around the house. Our daughters were spending a few hours with their grandparents, and our son was upstairs ignoring us. And even without the kids interrupting us, Steve’s cell phone pulled us apart, ringing incessantly from his pocket.
“Ignore it, Steve,” I murmured against his lips.
“It's Reston, and we have to leave anyway.” He stepped away from me and answered the phone call before sitting down to tug on the sneakers, grubby with constant wear. “We're on our way, I swear. Walking out the door as we speak.”
A lie. Despite multiple reminders we needed to leave, Matt was still in his room. Matt and Steve were due at school in ten minutes to catch the bus to this evening's basketball game. And if the head coach was calling, we had to leave the house now.
“Thanks, Jo, you're a lifesaver.” He cupped my face with his free hand. My shoulders relaxed and I melted against him, forgetting all the things on my to do list. My eyes drifted shut as he kissed me, the lingering kiss we were rarely allowed, with three kids running around the house. Our daughters were spending a few hours with their grandparents, and our son was upstairs ignoring us. And even without the kids interrupting us, Steve’s cell phone pulled us apart, ringing incessantly from his pocket.
“Ignore it, Steve,” I murmured against his lips.
“It's Reston, and we have to leave anyway.” He stepped away from me and answered the phone call before sitting down to tug on the sneakers, grubby with constant wear. “We're on our way, I swear. Walking out the door as we speak.”
A lie. Despite multiple reminders we needed to leave, Matt was still in his room. Matt and Steve were due at school in ten minutes to catch the bus to this evening's basketball game. And if the head coach was calling, we had to leave the house now.
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