Shedrow Virtual Book Tour

Join Dean DeLuke, author of the thriller novel, Shedrow (Grey Swan Press), as he virtually tours the blogosphere September 7 – October 29 ‘10 on his first virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book!

About Shedrow 

Hardcover: 256 pages

Publisher: Grey Swan Press (August 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 098003776X
ISBN-13: 978-0980037760



From rolling pastures in Lexington, KY to darkened alleyways in Newark, NJ, from Manhattan’s posh ‘21’ Club to a peculiar and mysterious landfill in Eastern Kentucky, and from Saratoga Springs, NY to the tiny island of St. Lucia, Shedrow portrays a collision of characters from many divergent worlds. High society and the racing elite, medical and veterinary specialists, mob figures, and Kentucky hill folk become entangled in this unique twist on the medical thriller.
Dr. Anthony Gianni, a prominent Manhattan surgeon, becomes involved in a racing partnership as a diversion from a thriving surgical practice and an ailing marriage. The excitement builds when the partnership acquires Chiefly Endeavor, a two-year-old colt with the breeding, the spirit, and enough early racing success to qualify for the Kentucky Derby.
When a new partner with an unsavory background appears and a breeder’s nightmare becomes real, Dr. Gianni and a dedicated veterinarian must confront organized crime and solve a complex mystery that threatens to destroy both of their careers, and possibly a great deal more.

Read the Excerpt!

Gianni was seated at a metal table, his hands bound behind his back. At one end of the table stood Sal Catroni. Unlike the other man, he wore no disguise. His longish hair was slicked back neatly, white at the sides, darker on top. His brow was furrowed in a scowl, amplifying the deep frown lines between his black-looking eyes. Catroni spoke first. “You know who I am?” he said.
Gianni shook his head.
“I’m Sal Catroni, of the Catroni family, and this here is Hector. Hector was a medic in the marines. He’s here to help you with some medical treatment.”
Hector stood at least six-two, all of it solid muscle. He wore a tight white dress shirt, its silk sleeves rolled neatly to the middle of his massive forearms. A ski mask, open at the forehead, concealed his face, and his closely cropped black hair stood mostly on end. It reminded Gianni of a 1960s style flat-top cut, only not as stiff.
“Hector has some tools for you, Doc,” Catroni said.
Hector opened a clean white linen cloth, the texture of a dishrag but with a starched white appearance. Inside were surgical instruments. Dr. Gianni instantly recognized them—there was a blade handle and several large #10 blades, the kind a surgeon would use to make a long incision. It was not a delicate blade, but one meant to cut hard and fast through a lot of tissue with a single swipe. Next to the blades was a bone cutting forceps, which Gianni knew to be a Rongeurs forceps. Then there was a large pile of neatly folded gauze pads.
“Recognize those tools?” Catroni asked.
Gianni nodded
.“Well, Hector here is prepared to do a little surgery today.”

Watch the Book Trailer!

About Dean DeLuke

Dr. Dean DeLuke is a graduate of St. Michael’s College, Columbia University (DMD) and Union Graduate College (MBA). He completed residency training at Long Island Jewish Medical Center and also participated in a fellowship in maxillofacial surgery at the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead, England.
He currently divides his time between the practice of oral and maxillofacial surgery and a variety of business consulting activities with Millennium Business Communications, LLC, a boutique marketing, communications and business consulting firm. An active volunteer, he has served on the Boards of the St. Clare’s Hospital Foundation, the Kidney Foundation of Northeast New York, and the Albany Academy for Girls. He has also performed medical missionary work with Health Volunteers Overseas.
He has a long history of involvement with thoroughbred horses—from farm hand on the Assunta Louis Farm in the 1970s to partner with Dogwood Stable at present.
His latest book is Shedrow, a medical thriller with a unique twist.
You can visit his website at www.shedrow1.com or connect with him at Facebook at www.facebook.com/deandeluke.

My Thoughts
I'm not sure what I expected with this book, but I'm delighted to say that it was a joy to read.  It was exciting and well written, with characters that were believable.  I also found that they were characters you wanted to follow - you kept turning pages because you wanted to find out what was next.  This is a great medical thriller  - and just a plain good book!  For anyone who likes a good thriller book that will have you on the edge of your seat, then rush out and pick this one up.  I know you'll love it as much as I did!





Here’s what critics are saying about Shedrow!

“I know nothing about thoroughbred racing, but Shedrow held me from beginning to end and made me want to learn more. Dean DeLuke is a wonderful talent, with a physician’s sensitivity and knowledge, and a writer’s deft touch with story and language. I am pleased and proud to welcome Dean DeLuke to the family of doctor-writers, and Shedrow to the ranks of razor sharp, fast-paced new novels. Shedrow is a great read–intriguing and exciting…this book moves!”

—Michael Palmer, NY Times best-selling author of The Last Surgeon and 14 other medical thrillers

“A strong debut. DeLuke paints a vivid cast of heroes and villains that leaves you guessing about the outcome and wanting more. Shedrow is one to read and DeLuke is a new writer to watch.”

—Robert Dugoni, New York Times bestselling author of Bodily Harm, Wrongful Death, The Jury Master, Damage Control and Cyanide Canary.

“DeLuke’s out-of-the gate, spare-no-prisoners portrayal of horse racing, vets, racing elite and slimy underworld mafia types leaps beyond anything being published in the genre today. From its opening pages you’ll be shivering on the edge of your seat while this thrill-ride of a debut has you chomping at the bit for more. I’m willing to bet the mortgage on a trifecta that DeLuke’s next two efforts will be just a masterful as the first. Not a win, place and show. But a win, win, win!”

—Vincent Zandri, author of Moonlight Falls and As Catch Can

International Thriller Awards panel judge for 2010

“A terrific whodunit, with characters wrapped in the singular culture that is thoroughbred racing.”

—Michael Veitch, senior turf writer for The Saratogian

“…A galloping series of twists and turns oozing with page-turning danger…this horseracing thriller is a heart pounding read.”

—Amy Wallen, bestselling author of Moon Pies and Movie Stars

“Tense from the first page, Shedrow is first-rate thriller. Dean DeLuke is a master storyteller, and the reader is happily taken on a pedal-to-the-metal thrill ride.”

—James Thayer, bestselling author of The Boxer & the Poet and eleven other critically acclaimed novels

“Dick Francis meets Robin Cook in the pages of this thriller.”

—Mary Jane Howell, Director of Public Relations for Dogwood Stable, campaigner of more than seventy stakes winners and winner of two Eclipse Awards

“Right out of the gate, Shedrow draws you into a fascinating world of thoroughbred owners with shockingly different goals. DeLuke weaves a nifty tale of ambition, deception and revenge.”

—Richard Rosenblatt, Associated Press Racing Writer

Shedrow Tour Schedule

Tuesday, September 7
Book reviewed at Gelati’s Scoop
Wednesday, September 8
Book spotlighted at Virginia Beach Publishing Examiner
Thursday, September 9
Interviewed at The Writer’s Life
Friday, September 10
Interviewed at Pump Up Your Book
Interviewed at Let’s Talk Virtual Book Tours
Monday, September 13
Interviewed on A Book and a Chat Radio Show
Tuesday, September 14
Guest blogging at The Book Boost
Wednesday, September 15
Guest blogging at Gelati’s Scoop
Thursday, September 16
Interviewed at Working Writers
Friday, September 17
Interviewed at Beyond the Books
Monday, September 20
Guest blogging at Literarily Speaking
Tuesday, September 21
Interviewed at Blogcritics
Thursday, September 23
Book trailer spotlighted at Down Under Views
Monday, September 27
Guest blogging at The Writer’s Life
Tuesday, September 28
Book reviewed at Pump Up Your Book
Wednesday, September 29
Book reviewed at Bags, Books & Bon Jovi
Thursday, September 30
Book reviewed at Marta’s Meanderings
Monday, October 4
Guest blogging at Literarily Speaking
Tuesday, October 5
Interviewed at Examiner
Wednesday, October 6
Interviewed at As the Pages Turn
Thursday, October 7
Guest blogging at As the Pages Turn
Friday, October 8
Book reviewed at Arms of a Sister
Monday, October 11
Interviewed at The Hot Author Report
Tuesday, October 12
Guest blogging at Thoughts in Progress
Wednesday, October 13
Book reviewed at Thoughts in Progress
Thursday, October 14
Book reviewed at Reading at the Beach
Friday, October 15
Book reviewed at Books R Us
Monday, October 18
Guest blogging at Literarily Speaking
Tuesday, October 19
Book reviewed at Books and Movies Reviews
Wednesday, October 20
Guest blogging at The Book Connection
Thursday, October 21
Interviewed at My Reading Room
Friday, October 22
Book reviewed at My Reading Room
Monday, October 25
Interviewed at A Moment With Mystee
Tuesday, October 26
Book reviewed at A Moment With Mystee
Wednesday, October 27
Interviewed at Broowaha
Thursday, October 28
Book reviewed at Sherri’s Jubilee
Friday, October 29
Interviewed at Review From Here

Love Means Zero Virtual Blog Tour

Join Daisy Jordan, author of the sports/women’s novel, Love Means Zero (Llumina Press), as she virtually tours the blogosphere in September and October ‘10 on her first virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book!

About Love Means Zero

Paperback: 514 pages

Publisher: Llumina Press (August 14, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1605945293
ISBN-13: 978-1605945293

A chance encounter in a Rome hotel, two tremendously damaging photographs, and Hilton Joliet’s life is instantly altered. Previously working a dead-end job as an assistant in a portrait studio, she is now a freelance photographer for Game Set Match magazine, “the Us Weekly of tennis,” as she calls it.
Thrown rapidly into a jet-setting life of world-class tennis, the best seats at the best matches, and trailing the hottest young tennis stars and their model and actress girlfriends, Hilton, a former tennis player herself, can’t imagine a more fun job or a better way to jump-start her career while her boyfriend Luke finishes law school.
As Hilton spends more and more time away from home, grows closer and closer to Tanner Bruin—the world-ranked No. 3 player on whom she’s always had a huge crush—and becomes more and more hated by Aubrey Gage—the actress girlfriend of world-ranked No. 6 player Haidin Bayliss—Luke keeps a secret from her that could drastically change their six-year relationship.
It is through Hilton’s discovery of that secret, her love for the tennis tour, and her front-row glimpse into its most high-profile relationships that she starts to see how love doesn’t always mean near as much as she thought it did.

Read an Excerpt

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Tanner called into the mic, “the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the culmination of the first annual Best Friends with Benefits Gala….We have, for your bidding pleasure, eight men to auction off for dates. And those men all happen to be—well, we hope at least—some of your favorite ATP tennis players!” The room went wild. All the guests were on their feet applauding and screaming and throwing wide-eyed looks of anticipation at each other.
“But,” Tanner continued, “the hard part is, you won’t know who each one is till he comes out. So, you have to decide, do I want Nate Young, who is pretty damn good-looking? Or should I wait to see if somebody even more strapping and charming, say, Tanner Bruin?, comes along?”
Tanner laughed at himself while all the women in the room giggled wildly like teenagers and shouted their agreement. Hilton laughed. Tanner cracked her up.
“And if you should win one of our fine young men, you get not only dinner for two at one of New York City’s finest restaurants of your choice, you’ll also get to sit in this player’s courtside box for one match at the US Open next August!”

The noise was deafening. Hilton couldn’t even hear herself as she yelled and clapped enthusiastically along with everyone else. This was going to be awesome, even though she knew there was no way she’d have enough money to win one of the players. She wondered who they all were, and how much they would go for.
“All right, so let’s get started!”
Noah, who was now standing in the front row, tossed Tanner a bottle of champagne. Tanner opened it, spraying it into the crowd and the reverberating cheers.
As people started to quiet, Hilton and Luke took their seats.
“You gonna do this one?” Luke asked with a playful grin.
Hilton elbowed him and grinned back. “Shut up. I wish. If I had endless thousands of dollars. But hmmmm.” She frowned. “I wouldn’t know who to pick. They’re all so hot…” She grinned at Luke again and ducked out of the way as he tried to rub his knuckles across the top of her head.
The first three players to be auctioned off were James Blake, Mardy Fish, and Mike Bryan. Hilarious old-school songs like “Dancing Queen” were blasting as each player strutted around the stage and Noah, resuming his role as MC/auctioneer, shouted the player’s bio into the mic. Hilton was having a blast. She loved the crazy atmosphere in here. This was definitely the way to do a charity benefit.
After Mike Bryan came Andy Roddick, then Bob Bryan. He went for a thousand more dollars than Mike, his twin brother, and Noah made a big deal out of it. The whole crowd yelled, “Oooooohhhh!” and Hilton burst out laughing halfway through yelling it.
Then, to Hilton’s complete shock, came Haidin. She quickly looked back to Haidin’s table, checking for Aubrey. Aubrey was probably pissed he was doing this, even though it was for charity. Ohhhh…Aubrey wasn’t there…the empty chair that had been next to Haidin earlier was now occupied by his agent/manager or whatever he was. Hilton cracked a smile and turned back to the front. Haidin, of course, didn’t dance like everyone else, he simply walked to the center of the stage and stood there looking like a totally hot, pissed-off bad boy. She wondered how much he would get. Probably just as much as everybody else, if not more. She rolled her eyes as Noah finished Haidin’s bio, which hadn’t been near as detailed or funny as everyone else’s.
“Bidding starts at one thousand dollars! Do we have one thousand?”
“A hundred thousand!” a woman shouted from the back of the room.
Hilton’s mouth dropped open in shock. She and everyone else in the room turned to stare. Even Noah and Haidin were staring in surprise.
The woman was petite and had her blonde hair piled on top of her head. She was probably about forty, and she was wearing a long white sequined evening gown.
“Okay!” Noah said somewhat dubiously. “A hundred thousand dollars! Going once…going twice…sold! To the woman in the back!”
Haidin turned and left the stage, still looking shocked.
Nate Young was next, and when he went for only fifty-one thousand, Noah and all the other players yelled, “Oooooohhhh!” again.
“And next, the one all you ladies have probably really been waiting for, we have our—to use his own words—strapping and charming host, Tanner Bruin!”
Tanner burst onto stage and started break dancing to “Billie Jean.”
Hilton jumped to her feet, grinning and screaming for him along with all the other women in the room. She couldn’t believe how good of a break dancer he was. And he looked so freaking hot in his suit with that mint green shirt…
“Tanner hails from Vero Beach, Florida, but he was actually born right here in Aspen, Colorado, where he grew up skiing, snowboarding, and, of course, playyying tennis!” Noah rolled his eyes sarcastically at the crowd, and everybody laughed again. “He is currently twenty-five years old and ranked number three in the world! Tanner enjoys gardening, ice ballet, and Jell-O wrestling. He is also president of the Vero Beach chapter of the Richard Simmons Fan Club.”
Hilton burst out laughing. “Ice ballet?!” she gasped to Luke. “What the hell is that?!”
“Bidding starts at one thousand dollars! Do I hear a thousand?”
A few women went back and forth until the bidding was up to fifty thousand, which was about what the other players before Haidin had gone for. Hilton expected Tanner to get a little more since he was the host. A lot of women had probably been waiting, expecting him to be last.
“Seventy-five thousand,” said a cool and confident new voice from behind Hilton. She turned to see Rory, the girl Tanner had won earlier in the women’s auction, standing just three tables behind hers.
Tanner heard her voice too and turned to look at her. When he saw who it was he grinned right at her. Hilton had to look away, because he was looking right in her direction too…but he didn’t even see her. He was grinning over her head at Rory. Hilton took a quick drink of her champagne.
“Seventy-five thousand! Going once…going twice…sold, to Rory from Aspen!” Noah laughed, obviously remembering Rory too.
Hilton turned to look at Rory again. She was smiling at Tanner and holding up her glass of champagne in a silent toast. Hilton turned back to the stage. Tanner gave Rory a chin-up nod and pointed at her for a split second, still grinning.
Even though it was in front of hundreds of people, it was somehow an intimate moment between the two of them, like they already knew each other and there was something going on between them.
***
“Hey, you should follow them,” Luke said half an hour or so later. He and Hilton were dancing and she was trying not to feel weirdly uneasy about how this weekend was turning out.
“What?” Hilton looked where Luke had nodded. Tanner and Rory had left Andy Roddick, James Blake, and Mike Bryan, to whom they’d been talking for several minutes, and were heading toward the exit.
“It’s where the good pics are gonna be,” Luke said with a grin. “Deidre will love you.”
Hilton hesitated. She knew six months ago she would’ve jumped all over it; she would’ve run after Tanner and any girl, hoping to get some hot pictures. But now…it just kind of sucked. But…it would seem weird to Luke if she didn’t want to, plus she hadn’t really gotten any of the crazy pictures so far this weekend that she knew Deidre wanted. “Thanks!” she said, rushing over to their table to grab her camera. “Come with me!”
Luke hurried to the hallway, and when Hilton joined him a moment later, he pointed in the direction of the Vail Room. “They went around the corner down there,” he said quietly.
The hallway was empty and chilly, and Hilton rubbed her arms as they rushed down it and then stopped to peek around the corner. Luckily the carpet was thick and they didn’t really have to worry about being quiet.
This hall was empty too. Hilton and Luke exchanged a quick glance, then hurried to the glass door at the end. A sign above it read EXIT in bold red letters.
“It’s gonna be noisy,” Hilton whispered. She could just hear the door clicking loudly as they eased it open, and then Tanner and Rory would know they’d been followed. Even though Tanner would know she was just trying to get pictures, she didn’t want him to see her right now for some reason.
“I can’t see them,” Luke whispered back. “They probably won’t hear. Come on.” He pushed on the door handle. The door swung open, making a clicking sound just like Hilton had imagined. They glanced at each other, then stepped out into the three or so inches of snow covering the ground.
Hilton looked around, rubbing her hands rapidly up and down her bare arms. Her feet and strappy stilettos were buried in the snow, and the bottom of her dress was already soaked. They appeared to be in some kind of small courtyard. Suddenly delighted laughter pierced the air.
“Hey, look.” Luke pointed, already heading across the small courtyard area. There was a slightly open gate on the far side. Hilton kicked off her shoes and rushed after him, holding her dress up.
They stopped at the gate and peered through. They were looking right at the lodge’s heated outdoor pool. Two pairs of shoes lay haphazardly on the deck, and Tanner and Rory were both in the pool, laughing giddily. Hilton raised her camera and started taking pictures. She didn’t want to turn the flash on and give herself and Luke away, but there were only two deck lights framing the pool, and the pictures weren’t coming out great.
“This is clutch!” Luke laughed excitedly under his breath, holding up his hand for a high five.
Even though part of Hilton was totally bummed, part of her was caught up in the excitement too. Even with the lack of lighting, these pictures were going to be awesome. Deidre would be thrilled. Hilton just wanted to wait till Tanner and Rory got a little closer to each other in the pool, and then she was going to turn on the flash and get one really good one, then run.
“Hey, get on my shoulders and let me flip you,” Tanner said breathlessly. Even in the dim lighting Hilton could see his irresistible grin.
“Ooohh, you always have the crazy ideas. Just don’t flip me into the wall and make me break a bone!” Rory laughed. Tanner laughed too and splashed at her as she swam closer to him, then he went underwater and Rory positioned herself over him, only her head visible.
A second later they rose out of the water together, Rory on his shoulders, her silvery-blue gown clinging to her in a totally misshapen fashion and Tanner still in his suit jacket. Rory was laughing. Tanner pushed upward, Rory flipped backward, the camera flashed, and Hilton and Luke took off running, both of them laughing hysterically.
“Oh my gosh, that was freakin’ awesome!” Hilton screamed when they were back inside the lodge. She and Luke slapped a high five so hard it left Hilton’s palm stinging. “Woooooo!”

My Thoughts
I loved this book for a couple of reasons.  First I've always loved tennis.  The second reason is that it gives us a look inside the world of professional tennis that I don't think I've really seen in a novel before.  I love that it was a completely original setting that was a wonderful, fun backdrop for the romance. On top of those reasons I loved this book because it was really good.  The romance was fresh and the characters believable. It also wasn't all hearts and flowers and there were some real issues involved that caused problems. All in all this book is definitely worth your time to grab for a great fall read!


About Daisy Jordan

Daisy Jordan is an obsessive tennis fan and wrote this book so she could live out her dream-job fantasy through Hilton. Before deciding to write a book about the tennis tour, she wrote six other books, including Everything Happens for a Reason…, the Spin the Bottle series, and All That Sparkles Isn’t Real Sapphire. Even before that, she grew up in Indiana watching tennis all summer every summer on TV, and even attended a few pro tournaments. She now lives in Denver and religiously fills out brackets for every Grand Slam with her brother Josh.
You can visit her website at DaisyJordan.com

Love Means Zero Tour Schedule

Tuesday, September 7
Spotlight on Book Tours and More
Wednesday, September 8
Guest Post at As the Pages Turn
Thursday, September 9
Guest Post at The Book Connection
Spotlight at The Plot
Friday, September 10
Character Interview at The Plot
Monday, September 13
Guest Post at You Have How Many Kids???
Tuesday, September 14
Review at You Have How Many Kids???
Wednesday, September 15
Guest Post at ElizabethAWhile.com
Thursday, September 16
Guest Post at Life in the First Draft
Friday, September 17
Guest Post at Life in the First Draft
Monday, September 20
Guest Post at Rex Robot Reviews
Spotlight at The Hot Author Report
Tuesday, September 21
Interview at The Hot Author Report
Wednesday, September 22
Guest Post at The Hot Author Report
Thursday, September 23
Guest Post at The Hot Author Report
Friday, September 24
Review at Mom’s Not All
Tuesday, September 28
Review at Marta’s Meanderings
Wednesday, September 29
Guest Post at My Reading Room
Thursday, September 30
Review at My Reading Room

One of my favorite online stores is CSN Stores.  I love them because they have EVERYTHING!  I've gotten quite a few things from them ranging from kids toys to a great George Foreman Outdoor Grill. The best part of shopping there is that CSN Stores has over 200 online stores where you can find anything you need whether it be a stylish handbag, a chic bar stool or even cute cookware!

Here are the really cute plates that I got there recently.  I absolutely love how colorful they are!

Loving God with All Your Heart Virtual Book Tour

Join Susie Hobson, author of the Christian Living book, Loving God with All Your Heart: Keeping the Greatest Commandment in Everyday Life (Nordskog Publishing), as she virtually tours the blogosphere in September on her first virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book.

Hardcover: 120 pages
Publisher: Nordskog Publishing, Inc. (June 18, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0982492960
ISBN-13: 978-0982492963

About Loving God with All My Heart
Are you satisfied with your daily life? Do you run more on empty than full? Do you always feel like there is more out there for you? This book will take you deeper into your heart’s desire for a real relationship with God, a powerful relationship that will transform your whole life! Susie Hobson reminds us that the love we all long for begins and ends with a life that is surrendered to Jesus. From her real experience she offers practical application of communing with God through His Word to inspire and encourage a closer walk, resulting in empowerment for faithful living. Susie gives a clear path to the fulfillment of the greatest desire of man’s heart—God’s unfailing love as the foundation for wisdom and serving God in our homes and community. This book should fill a real need among families who long for a Biblical order in the home. Susie’s testimony is absorbing.

My Thoughts
This is a wonderful little book that would be a great addition to your inspirational library.  This a wonderful source of encouragement on your daily walk.  Susie's words will encourage you to a closer walk with God and a stronger faith.  This book is great read as a whole or in small bits as daily encouragement.  It would also make a great gift for friends!

About Susie Hobson

Susie Hobson has a B.A. in Special Education, M.S. in Rehabilitation Counseling from the University of Alabama, and carried a deaf / hearing-impaired and blind / vision-impaired caseload for 16 years. She retired for more time with family and to write as God has called her. She and her husband Rich have two daughters, Whitney and Amelia, live in Montgomery, and attend Lakeview Baptist Church.
Find out more about Susie and Loving God with All Your Heart at http://www.nordskogpublishing.com/book-loving-god-with-all-your-heart.shtml

Read the Excerpt!

Are you one of those who want more?  Increasingly, I hear the same statement over and over again: “Susie, I want more!”  There is a desire in all of us for something that people, places, possessions, fame and fortune cannot fill.  What is that elusive need, that heart’s desire we all seem to crave?  I am convinced that it is a real relationship with God – a powerful relationship!

Loving God with All Your Heart Tour Schedule

Tuesday, September 7
Interviewed at Pump Up Your Book
Wednesday, September 8
Interviewed at The Hot Author Report
Thursday, September 9
Interviewed at Examiner
Friday, September 10
Guest blogging at The Book Connection
Monday, September 13
Interviewed at Paperback Writer
Tuesday, September 14
Book reviewed at What You Reading Now?
Wednesday, September 15
Guest blogging at Lori’s Reading Corner
Thursday, September 16
Book reviewed at 4 the Love of Books
Friday, September 17
Book spotlighted at Book Tours and More
Monday, September 20
Guest blogging at Writing Daze
Tuesday, September 21
Book reviewed at RBC Library
Wednesday, September 22
Book reviewed and giveaway at The Knowlton Nest
Thursday, September 23
Guest blogging at Review from Here
Friday, September 24
Book reviewed at Ellis
Monday, September 27
Guest blogging at Lynn’s Corner
Tuesday, September 28
Book reviewed at Lynn’s Corner
Wednesday, September 29
Book reviewed at My Favorite Things
Book reviewed at A Mom After God’s Own Heart
Thursday, September 30
Interviewed at American Chronicle
TBD: Book reviewed at Marta’s Meanderings

Terminal Care Virtual Book Tour

Join Chris Stookey, author of the medical mystery thriller, Terminal Care (Silver Leaf Books), as he virtually tours the blogosphere September 7 – October 29 ‘10 on his first virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book!

Paperback: 342 pages
Publisher: Silver Leaf Books (June 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1609750292
ISBN-13: 978-1609750299

 

About Terminal Care

Phil Pescoe, the 37-year-old emergency physician at Deaconess Hospital in San Francisco, becomes alarmed by a dramatic increase in the number of deaths on the East Annex (the Alzheimer’s Ward). The deaths coincide with the initiation of a new drug study on the annex where a team of neurologists have been administering “NAF”—an experimental and highly promising treatment for Alzheimer’s disease—to half of the patients on the ward.
Mysteriously, the hospital pushes forward with the study even though six patients have died since the start of the trial. Pescoe teams up with Clara Wong—a brilliant internist with a troubled past—to investigate the situation. Their inquiries lead them unwittingly into the cutthroat world of big-business pharmaceuticals, where they are threatened to be swept up and lost before they have the opportunity to discover the truth behind an elaborate cover-up.
With the death count mounting, Pescoe and Wong race against time to save the patients on the ward and to stop the drug manufacturer from unleashing a dangerous new drug on the general populace.

Interview With Chris Stookey 

Talking Virtual Book Tours With Chris Stookey

Read the Excerpt!

CHAPTER 1
The death itself wasn’t the unusual thing. The unusual thing was we tried to stop it. That first dying heart came on a Thursday night, a little after midnight on May 5th. I remember the date because it was Cinco de Mayo, a Mexican holiday. There’d been celebrations all day long in San Francisco, including in the Presidio where I was working that night.
I was one of two physicians on duty in the ER at Deaconess Hospital, doing the overnight shift, 6 PM to 6 AM. The early part of the shift had been busy. When I arrived at six o’clock, the waiting room was bursting with patients: drunken revelers with lacerations and sprained ankles, tourists with sunburns, picnickers vomiting from food poisoning, six members of a mariachi band with heat stroke and dehydration. We worked fast, moving from one stretcher to the next, seeing the most critical patients first and moving on.
Then, around ten o’clock, the flow of new patients stopped—abruptly, like water from a faucet turned from on to off. By 11:00 PM, there were only four patients in the waiting room. By 11:45, I finished sewing up my last laceration: a three-inch gash on the forehead of an intoxicated coed from San Francisco State.

Then, there was no one. The emergency department had gone from chaos to serenity.
With nothing to do, Hansen, the other physician on duty, went to catch a nap in the staff lounge. I washed up and went over to join Bill—the night nurse—at the nursing station. We sat with our feet up, drinking black coffee from Styrofoam cups, looking across the empty row of stretcher beds. Bill launched nostalgically into a pornographic tale about a buxom nurse he’d known while serving as a medic during the Gulf War. He’d just reached the climax—so to speak—of his story when, suddenly, the calm of the night was interrupted by an announcement over the intercom:
“Code Blue, East Annex, back station! Code Blue, East Annex, back station! ”
“Christ,” Bill said stopping short in his story. “East Annex? That’s the Alzheimer’s unit.”
“Yeah,” I said. Bill and I exchanged puzzled looks.
“Since when do they call Code Blues on the Alzheimer’s unit?” Bill asked.
The announcement came again, sounding now more urgent. “Code Blue, East Annex! Code Blue!” It was an urgent call for help, hospital jargon for, “Come quick, someone’s trying to die.” And, at that hour of the night, it was the duty of the ER doctor to come and stop the dying. Or at least to try.
I jumped up and grabbed the “Code bag,” the big black duffel bag filled with the equipment we’d need to run the Code: defibrillator unit, intubation tubes, cardiac meds.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“But I was just getting to the good part of my story,” Bill said.
“Save it for later.”
We ran out of the emergency department down the long connector tunnel leading to the East Annex. Why were they calling a Code Blue on the East Annex? I wondered as we ran. In my three years of working at Deaconess, this was the first time I’d been called to a Code on the annex. Normally, they didn’t run Code Blues on the Alzheimer’s ward. The patients there were “DNR”—“Do Not Resuscitate.” In other words, when a patient on the annex stopped breathing or went into cardiac arrest, nothing was to be done. No medical heroics. No breathing machines, no cardiac stimulants, no shocking the heart. This was considered the humane thing to do. All the patients on the annex had at least moderately advanced Alzheimer’s disease; all were near the end of life. To prolong the lives of these poor souls at all costs was not the aim of medical care on the East Annex. The aim of medical care on the East Annex was comfort, a safe environment, and, when the time came, death with dignity.
I heard Bill huffing and puffing, falling behind as we ran down the hall. I turned back and saw him slow to a walk.
“I’ll have to…meet…you…” he said breathlessly.
“Maybe if you give up those damn cigarettes,” I called back as I went around the bend in the tunnel.
“Maybe if…I was…a damn jogger like you,” Bill called out.
At the end of the connector, I came to the door leading to the second floor of the annex. Normally, the door was shut and locked. The East Annex was a locked ward because the patients there—at least the ones who were ambulatory—had a habit of wandering off the ward and getting lost when the doors weren’t locked. Now, as I reached the end of the connector, a rotund, uniformed security guard stood at the door holding it open for me. “Straight ahead, past the back station, on the left,” the guard said.
I went through the door and immediately someone shouted out. “Over here!”
I ran to where six or seven people were gathered outside one of the rooms. There’s always a crowd at any Code Blue. Death, either actual or imminent, is always something that fascinates people. Several of the people in the crowd had no business being there: for example, the ward secretary standing on her tiptoes peering in at the door and the two members of the janitorial staff looking over her shoulder.
Elbowing my way into the room, I got my first look at the patient: an elderly, gray-skinned woman wearing pink pajamas. She lay lifelessly on her back on the bed, the covers tossed back. Four people were gathered closely around the bed working on her. The ward tech, a muscular, crew-cut fellow, was performing chest compressions, pumping away on the old woman’s sternum with the heel of his hand. At the head of the bed stood the respiratory therapist, a skinny African-American fellow named Lamont—I had worked with him in the emergency department. Lamont was holding a mask over the patient’s face and squeezing breaths of oxygen from an oxygen bag. At the foot of the bed stood the Code Blue pharmacist, a young Hispanic woman I’d never seen before; she attentively held her tray of Code Blue medicines, ready to dispense whatever might be called for. The fourth person at the bed was Juanita Obregón, one of the East Annex night nurses. Juanita was also a familiar face. She’d been a good friend of mine since my early days at Deaconess. She stood opposite the ward tech, pressing her fingers into the patient’s groin, feeling for a pulse at the femoral artery.
“Pescoe!” Juanita said as I entered the room. Juanita always called me by my last name—not “Philip” or “Phil” or “Dr. Pescoe,” just “Pescoe”. “Thank God. I was in to see her twenty minutes ago, and she was absolutely fine, watching TV. Then, I came in to turn off the television, and she’s unresponsive. Not breathing, no pulse—out.”
Juanita stepped back as I came over on her side of the bed.
“Who called the Code?” I asked.
“I did,” Juanita said.
“Why? She’s an Alzheimer’s patient, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Juanita said. “All the patients on the annex are Full Code now, while they’re running the study.”
“Study? What study?”
“Neussbaum and his team. They’re running a drug study, some new experimental treatment for Alzheimer’s.”
I looked at Juanita. I hadn’t heard anything about a drug study on the East Annex. Neussbaum, whom Juanita had referred to, was Tucker Neussbaum, the doctor in charge of the Alzheimer’s unit. He’d never said anything to me about a change in resuscitation status on the unit. Of course, now was not the time to start questioning DNR orders—if the little old lady in the pink pajamas had been declared a Full Code, then so be it. My job was to do everything I could to bring her back to life. Now.
I turned toward the ward tech. “Hold compressions,” I said.
The tech stopped pumping on the patient’s chest and stood back. I pressed my fingers into the old lady’s neck and felt for a pulse. Nothing. I unzipped the Code bag, turned on the defibrillator machine, and took out the defibrillator paddles. Tearing open the woman’s pajama top, I pressed the paddles against her bony chest. The paddles acted like heart monitor electrodes, and we all looked at the TV screen on the defibrillator machine. The neon light showed the woman’s heart tracing, a wiggly pattern running across the screen. The wiggly tracing meant there was still some “life” left in the old woman’s heart, still some electrical activity. The heart rhythm was not normal, however, far from it: the woman’s heart was quivering out of control in a rhythm called “ventricular fibrillation.” In order to save her life, something had to be done to stop the quivering. Otherwise, the woman would die.
“V-fib,” I called out. “I’m going to shock.”
I turned the knobs to charge the defibrillator just as Bill came into the room, wheezing like a steam engine.
“V-fib,” I said. “They’re running some sort of drug study, and all the patients are Full Code.” I pressed the paddles firmly down on the woman’s chest. “Stand clear!” I shouted.
Lamont and the ward tech stepped away from the bed, and I activated the defibrillator. A pulse of electricity shot through the woman’s chest causing her back to arch up. We all looked down at the monitor for the second it takes to re-establish the heart rhythm after the jolt of electricity. The neon tracing appeared on the screen, squiggly and still fibrillating out of control. The shock had failed to convert the old woman’s heartbeat to a normal rhythm.
“Okay,” I said, “epinephrine. We need an IV.”
“She already has one,” Juanita said. “Left forearm.”
I looked at the patient’s left forearm, and, just as Juanita said, there was an IV already in place. A rubber-tipped intravenous catheter had been secured with a gauze wrap and tape. The IV was further held in place by a fishnet stocking covering the entire forearm.
I looked at the pharmacist. “Epinephrine, one milligram,” I said. As the pharmacist reached into her box of medicines, I said to the ward tech, “Continue chest compressions. I’m going to intubate her.”
As in a choreographed dance, everyone went into action. The pharmacist took a syringe of epinephrine—adrenaline—from her tray and handed it to Juanita. Juanita injected the heart stimulant into the IV. The tech resumed his chest compressions, and Lamont resumed bagging oxygen to the patient. Meanwhile, I went to the head of the bed and prepared to put a plastic tube down the old woman’s throat so we could breathe for her more effectively.
They say much of emergency medicine is “cookbook medicine,” and a well-trained monkey can perform much of what emergency physicians do. There’s no better example of this than the Code Blue cardiac arrest. Every step in the Code is based on a precisely defined algorithm, and everyone knows the drill. We’d already performed the first step of the algorithm: shock the patient’s heart with 360 Joules of electricity. This had failed to stop the quivering, so we moved to the next steps of the protocol: a shot of intravenous epinephrine and intubation.
“7.5 tube,” I said.
Bill took the throat tube out of the Code bag and handed it to me. Lamont pulled off the oxygen face mask and stepped aside, and I checked the woman’s mouth to see if there was anything inside that might make it difficult to put the tube down—blood, loose dentures, chunks of food. Her mouth and throat were clear.
“Does this patient have any history of heart problems?” I asked Juanita as I put the laryngoscope blade into the mouth and pried open the jaw.
“No, that’s just it,” Juanita said. “Her only medical history is Alzheimer’s disease. Otherwise, she’s the healthiest patient on the ward. Then again, that’s what I said about the last patient who died. This is the second Code we’ve had in three days.”
“Oh?” I said slipping the throat tube into the trachea.
“Yes. Mrs. Messing, she died on Tuesday.”
Lamont attached the oxygen bag to the end of the tube and began pumping 100% oxygen directly into the woman’s lungs.
“Is Neussbaum here tonight?” I asked.
“No. He just left, half an hour ago,” Juanita said. “His resident is on call tonight, Dr. Chester Mott. He’s here.” Juanita motioned with her head toward a young man standing on the other side of the room.
I looked over at the man. I hadn’t noticed him before; he was slumped down in the shadows of the far corner of the room. He was a short, overweight fellow wearing a black tee shirt and surgical scrub pants; he had carrot orange hair that stood out in all directions. He looked like a resident, all right: young, disheveled, sleep-deprived. I figured he must have been sleeping in the call room when the Code was called.
“Okay, hold compressions,” I said. I looked at the heart monitor: the rhythm was still v-fib. Our efforts were getting us nowhere. “Let’s shock again, 360 Joules.”
Bill charged the machine to 360, and I delivered the shock. Again, no change. What’s more, the amplitude of the heart waves on the screen was getting smaller, flatter. It was a bad sign.
I looked over at the resident. “Want to help, do some chest compressions?” I asked.
The resident looked at me with wide, frightened eyes and shook his head, no. I felt my head cock sideways as I looked at him in surprise. No? That’s odd, I thought. Residents were supposed to be keen to jump in and get involved in a Code Blue. Even if they’re nervous and not really eager to do so, at least they’re supposed to pretend. That’s what they’re there for, to learn. However, I decided to cut Dr. Mott some slack. No doubt he was feeling overwhelmed and anxious, the way most residents feel during the heat of a cardiac arrest. If this had been his rotation through the emergency department, I would have insisted. However, this was the Alzheimer’s ward. The young Dr. Mott was supposed to be learning about dementia and urinary incontinence and bed sores, not fibrillating hearts. No need to press him into service if he didn’t feel comfortable with it.
“Continue compressions,” I said turning back to the tech. I looked at pharmacist. “Amiodarone, 300 milligrams, IV,” I said regurgitating the next step of the protocol.
We continued to work down the algorithm, delivering further shocks and further medications. The room became pungent with the smell of the patient’s singed flesh owing to the repeated shocks. Another bad sign. Between shocks and injections, I watched and supervised the Code team. The ward tech had worked up a heavy sweat pumping away at the chest compressions.
“Need a break?” I asked.
“No, I’m okay.”
“Bill can relieve you. Or,” I said raising my voice a little, “maybe the resident.” Mott didn’t move. He just stood there looking down at the floor, his hands folded diffidently over his protuberant belly.
“No, I’m fine,” the tech said; “I’m good.”
I looked at the patient lying lifelessly on the bed. I wondered what it was that had caused her heart to go suddenly haywire. Heart attack? Juanita had said there was no history of heart problems. I looked at the old woman’s face: she had to be at least eighty-five-years-old. Her hair was white and thinned to near baldness at the crown, her forehead covered with age spots. Her cheeks stood out prominently on the bony face, and her eyes were sunk deep into the sockets. I asked myself again: why in the world were we Coding this bent-up old lady with Alzheimer’s disease?
I asked the tech to hold compressions and looked once again at the heart monitor. The tracing was almost flat now. The woman was going to die. I knew it, everyone knew it—we were just going through the motions now.
“Okay,” I said. I could hear the resigned tone in my own voice. “Let’s try another shock—360 Joules.”
We continued our efforts for another ten minutes until the woman’s heartbeat was truly flat-line on the monitor. I delivered one final, ineffective shock then decided to call it quits.
“I’m going to stop,” I said. “Any objections?”
Not surprisingly, no one objected.
“Okay…,” I said looking up at the clock on the wall. “12:57.”
The tech stopped the chest compressions; Lamont stopped squeezing the oxygen bag; the pharmacist closed her box of medicines. Somewhere in the shadows I saw the young Dr. Mott slip silently out of the room. I looked down at the patient. Her face was now a blue-purple color, and the endotracheal tube stuck out of her mouth like the end of a large fish hook.
“Okay,” Juanita said. “12:57. I’ll mark it down as the time of death.” 

About Christopher Stookey
Christopher Stookey, MD, is a practicing emergency physician, and he is passionate about medicine and health care. However, his other great interests are literature and writing, and he has steadily published a number of short stories and essays over the past ten years. His most recent essay, “First in My Class,” appears in the book BECOMING A DOCTOR (published by W. W. Norton & Co, March 2010); the essay describes Dr. Stookey’s wrenching involvement in a malpractice lawsuit when he was a new resident, fresh out of medical school. TERMINAL CARE, a medical mystery thriller, is his first novel. The book, set in San Francisco, explores the unsavory world of big-business pharmaceuticals as well as the sad and tragic world of the Alzheimer’s ward at a medical research hospital. Stookey’s other interests include jogging in the greenbelts near his home and surfing (he promises his next novel will feature a surfer as a main character). He lives in Laguna Beach, California with his wife and three dogs.
To find out more about Chris, visit his Amazon’s author page at http://www.amazon.com/Christopher-Stookey/e/B003UVLDI4/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0.

My Thoughts
For someone who loves medical dramas on tv, this book was like literary candy. It was suspenseful and there were plenty of twists and turns to keep you turning the pages.This is a first novel by Stookey, and I'm sure that we'll see more from him.  I can't wait to see what he writes next.  This is an excellent read - fun, exciting and sure to keep you guessing!

Here’s what critics have to say about Terminal Care:

“It’s very well written and it hooks you from the start and keeps you hooked until the end. I think it’s a great first novel for this talented author.” – LIFE IN REVIEW

“Terminal Care is part medical procedural, part thriller, and part mystery and all three are expertly woven together to create a fast paced medical thriller.  Stookey’s debut novel was an absolute delight to read and I look forward to more novels from this fine author.  I would recommend Terminal Care to anyone looking for a good mystery/thriller.”– RUNDPINNE

“This 4 star novel of suspense is awesome medicine for the medical suspense loving soul. Blended with that bit of romance, it’s the perfect read for almost any genre lover. I definitely recommend this debut novel and will hoping for more from this awesome author turned author!”– Book Reviews by Buuklvr81

 Terminal Care Tour Schedule

Tuesday, September 7
Guest blogging at As the Pages Turn
Wednesday, September 8
Book reviewed at Life in Review
Thursday, September 9
Guest blogging at Blogging Authors
Friday, September 10
Book reviewed at Rundpinne
Monday, September 13
Interviewed at Literarily Speaking
Tuesday, September 14
Interviewed at The Writer’s Life
Wednesday, September 15
Book reviewed by Book Reviews by Buuklvr81
Thursday, September 16
Guest blogging at The Book Boost
Friday, September 17
Book Reviewed by My Reading Room
Monday, September 20
Interviewed at Pump Up Your Book
Interviewed at Let’s Talk Virtual Book Tours
Tuesday, September 21
Guest blogging at Literarily Speaking
Wednesday, September 22
Book reviewed at Marta’s Meanderings
Thursday, September 23
Interviewed LIVE on A Book and a Chat Radio Show (click link for details)
Friday, September 24
Book reviewed at You Have How Many Kids?
Monday, September 27
Book reviewed at Ohio Girl Talks
Tuesday, September 28
Book reviewed at Celtic Lady’s Reviews
Wednesday, September 29
Book reviewed at From the TBR Pile
Thursday, September 30
Book reviewed at Reading at the Beach

The Book of Unholy Mischief Virtual Book Tour

Join Elle Newmark, author of the Renaissance mystery novel, The Book of Unholy Mischief (Atria, December 2008), as she virtually tours the blogosphere in September and October on her fourth virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book Promotion!

Paperback: 400 pages
Publisher: Washington Square Press (November 3, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1416590579
ISBN-13: 978-1416590576

About The Book of Unholy Mischief

It is 1498, the dawn of the Renaissance and Venice teems with rumors of an ancient book that hold the secrets of unimaginable power. Rich and poor alike speculate abouthe the long buried secred tht might be scrawled in its pages and where the book might be hidden in the labyrinthine city. While those who seek the book will stop at nothing to get it, those who know will die to protect it.

As a storm of intrigue percolates in Her Most Serene Republic, Luciano, a penniless orphan, is plucked off the street by the doge’s chef and taken in as the chef’s apprentice. In the palace kitchen Luciano is initiated into the chef’s rich and mysterious world where recipes are more than they seem.

It is not long before Luciano is caught up in the madness. Torn between loyalty to his street friends and his passion for Francesca, a convent girl, Lucianco’s worthiness is tested. Armed with a precicious mind and insatiable curiosity, Luciano embarks on a perilous journey to uncover the truth. What he discovers will swing opent he shutters of his mind, inflalme his deepest esires, and leaven an indelible mark on his soul.

Read the Excerpt 

My name is Luciano - just Luciano. I’m Venetian by birth, old now and chained to my memories, compelled to return, link by link, seeking clarity.
There’s a matter about which I am sworn to secrecy, but times have changed since I took my oath. In my lifetime, I’ve witnessed man’s emergence from centuries of darkness. Great thinkers have unlocked our minds, and great artists have opened our eyes and our hearts. Some are calling it a renaissance - a rebirth - and it will reverberate far into the future because of a miraculous new invention called the printing press. Perhaps, now, it would be a disservice to the advancement of knowledge to remain silent. Perhaps the pendulum has swung a full arc, and the time has come for me to speak. If I proceed with caution … well, those who have ears let them hear.

The intrigue took place in my youth, when I served as an apprentice to the doge’s chef in Venice. I first suspected some unholy mischief when the doge invited an uncouth peasant to dine with him in the palace. In the time-honored tradition of servants everywhere, I assumed my post behind the slightly open service door to the dining room in order to spy, and I marveled at the sight of them together: the doge, chief magistrate of the Most Serene Republic of Venice, gracious and bejeweled, sat with his guest, a bewildered paesano with calloused hands, dirt under his fingernails, and unwashed hair that had been hastily wetted and pushed off his face to show respect.

Watch The Trailer

See Elle in Venice talking about the book


My Thoughts
For anyone who loves historical fiction, you can't get much better than this book!  It's rich and lush in details, and you will feel as if you've been transported to Renaissance Venice.  For those of you foodies out there, you'll love all the descriptions of food.  I just really enjoyed sinking into this wonderful tale and found that it's a story that sticks with you long after you put it down!

 
About Elle Newmark

Elle Newmark is an award winning writer whose books are inspired by her travels. She prowled the back streets of Venice to cook up The Book of Unholy Mischief and explored India by car and elephant to conjure The Devil’s Wind. She calls California home.

For more information on Elle or her work visit http://www.ellenewmark.com/

  READ THE REVIEWS:

“Elle Newmark immerses us in 16th century Venice with lush and vivid detail. We live history through the eyes of an urchin named Luciano who, seemingly by pure chance, is plucked from the streets by the head chef of the lavish Doges Palace. But just as we are about to lose ourselves in a particularly exquisite entrée, we are caught up in a vicious search for a book of alchemy, said to contain the secrets of wealth, power, and life itself. Tension builds as we find that this coveted book has a curious connection to the palace kitchen. Beautifully and cleverly descriptive, the story twists, turns, and finally emerges as a lasting testament to wisdom and truth.” -Mary Fagan

“This is a well written story and it held me captive for two nights running. At times I wanted to speed read through, but I fought the urge as it’s so beautifully written, I simply wanted to make it last. That’s how good this story is.” -Ken Douglas

THE BOOK OF UNHOLY MISCHIEF’S VIRTUAL BOOK TOUR SEPTEMBER/OCTOBER ‘10 TOUR SCHEDULE

Tuesday, September 7
Guest Blogging at My Reading Room

Wednesday, September 8
Book Reviewed at My Reading Room

Thursday, September 9
Book Reviewed at Andilit

Friday, September 10
Book Reviewed at Must Read Faster

Monday, September 13
Book Reviewed at Marta’s Meanderings
Interviewed at Diva’s Bookcase

Tuesday, September 14
Guest Blogging at Marta’s Meanderings
Book Reviewed at Diva’s Bookcase

Wednesday, September 15
Book Reviewed at Girls Just Reading

Thursday, September 16
Book Reviewed at Rundpinne

Friday, September 17
Guest Blogging at A Book Blogger’s Diary

Monday, September 20
Book Reviewed at The Book Tree

Tuesday, September 21
Book Reviewed at My Reading Table

Wednesday, September 22
Guest Blogging at My Reading Table

Thursday, September 23
Book Reviewed at ‘Til We Read Again

Monday, September 27
Book Reviewed at To Read or Not to Read

Tuesday, September 28
Book Reviewed at 2 Kids and Tired Book Reviews

Wednesday, September 29
Book Reviewed at Book Reviews by Buuklvr81

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The Unexpected Son Virtual Book Tour

 Join Shobhan Bantwal, author of the women’s fiction book, The Unexpected Son (Kensington Publishing Corp.), as she virtually tours the blogosphere in September ‘10 on her fourth virtual book tour with Pump Up Your Book!

Paperback: 352 pages
Publisher: Kensington; 1 edition (August 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0758232039
ISBN-13: 978-0758232038

About The Unexpected Son
What happens when a woman who’s realized her dreams wakes up to a shocking truth? A mysterious letter turns Vinita Patil’s contented American life upside down. It tells an impossible story: she has a grown son in India, a child she was told was stillborn 30 years ago. Now his life may depend on her.
Revealing her secret past to her arranged-marriage husband could mean losing him forever. Nonetheless Vinita is compelled to return to her battle-scarred town in India to meet her hitherto unknown son—perhaps even save his life—and pray for the faith of the family she leaves behind.

Read an Excerpt

Prologue There was something odd about it, despite its plain and inconsequential appearance. Vinita gazed at the mystery envelope for a long moment, weighed it in the palm of her hand. Her instincts were prickling. It went beyond mere feminine intuition.
She didn’t receive any letters from her family in India anymore. Cheap long-distance telephone rates and email had put an end to that somewhat antiquated form of communication.
The smudged postal seal on the envelope read Mumbai—one of India’s largest and most populous cities—a place Vinita was very familiar with. The envelope had that typical “India” look—multiple postage stamps in various colors and sizes; thin brown paper; and the sealing flap placed over the vertical edge, unlike the American style horizontal edge. But it didn’t look like the occasional wedding invitation or the quarterly statements from the bank where she and husband maintained a small account in rupees.
There was no return address, but it was sent to her attention—neatly hand-printed. She slit it open with her finger and eased out the contents—a single sheet of white ruled paper. Her hands shook a little. She wasn’t sure if it was anticipation or anxiety. Or both.
The message was brief—a few lines penned in blue ink. She scanned it quickly, trying to ignore the tingle crawling up her spine like the cautious progress of a venomous spider. The subject matter was bizarre. The writer’s name was missing. The trembling in her hands edged up a notch.
Only minutes ago, it had looked like any ordinary Saturday morning—a day to recoup after five hectic days of poring over spreadsheets, memos, and databases till her eyeballs ached and her back turned stiff as cardboard.
This morning, lying in bed, through drowsy eyes she’d watched the first shimmering rays of sunlight poke their fingers through the window blinds. The sound of the wind whistling through the pale green spring foliage was a sign of a brisk but sunny April day.
May, her favorite month, was right around the corner. The dogwoods and azaleas in the neighborhood, weighed down by fat, succulent buds, attested to that. Spring was always such a buoyant season, so full of promise. It had brought a contented smile to her lips.
Reminding herself that it was time to emerge from the warm cocoon of the down comforter, she’d sat up in bed, stretched like a slothful kitten, and leaned back against the headboard. She’d managed to grab more than two extra hours of sleep. Her reward for waking early on weekdays.
Her husband was on a business trip to Detroit, and wasn’t due to return until the following week, so she had the weekend to herself. She’d planned to indulge herself by brewing a cup of scalding masala chai—strong tea delicately laced with her own blend of five spices instead of the usual coffee-on-the-run on weekdays at the office. Then she was going to eat lunch at the taco place and do some shopping at the mall.
Working late the previous evening had prevented her from looking at the mail right away. Exhausted, she’d tossed the stack of correspondence on the nightstand, eaten a quick meal of leftovers, and gone straight to bed.
Now, as she sat on the bed in her aqua print pajamas and checked the mail before getting dressed, she wondered if the weekend of self-indulgence she’d been looking forward to was already beginning to wilt and curl at the edges. The tacos and the shopping spree no longer appealed.
Who could have sent her the odd message? An old friend? An acquaintance? She blew her disheveled bangs out of her eyes to read it again, more carefully this time. Perhaps there were clues she had missed the first time.
My dear Mrs. Patil,
I am writing to tell you about your son. He is suffering from myeloid leukemia. Many years ago, I had made a promise that I will never reveal anything about him, but this is a serious matter. A bone marrow transplant is his last hope. My conscience will not allow me to let a young man die without having a chance to try every possible treatment. Your brother may be able to give you all the details.
I leave the matter in your hands.
Best Regards & Blessings,
A well-wisher
Who was this nameless letter-writer? And why had he or she chosen to remain anonymous? Something about the message was disturbing.
How could someone spring something like this on a total stranger? Whose son were they talking about, anyway? Was it possible the letter was erroneously mailed to her? But what if it wasn’t a mistake and she was indeed the intended recipient?
Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? But then, why would they spend over forty rupees to mail something all the way to the U.S. as a mere prank? Everything about the letter spelled serious intent. This was no hoax …

Read an interview with Shobhan Bantwal about the book!

Watch the Trailer

My Thoughts

This story is absolutely terrific.  Bantwal weaves a wonderful tale of a mother's love amidst Indian-American life.  It's a wonderful insight into the culture and is a story that is rich and wonderful and a delight to dive into. While the story is set amidst the Indian-American culture, this is a story that will have you hooked from the first page!

About Shobhan Bantwal 

Shobhan Bantwal calls her writing “Bollywood in a Book,” romantic, colorful, action-packed tales, rich with elements of Indian culture. Born and raised in India and now an American citizen, Shobhan had an arranged marriage and writes about that topic and other controversial social topics unique to India. THE UNEXPECTED SON is her fourth book.

Shobhan’s articles and short stories have appeared in a variety of publications including The Writer magazine, Romantic Times, India Abroad, Little India, U.S. 1, India Currents, and New Woman. Her short stories have won honors and awards in fiction contests sponsored by Writer’s Digest, New York Stories and New Woman magazines. To read her stories, articles, favorite recipes, and more, go to her website: www.shobhanbantwal.com

What Reviewers are Saying

“Bantwal is a magical storyteller. The characters are so tangible that you miss them when you finish reading The Unexpected Son.” — BookPleasures

The Unexpected Son Tour Schedule

Tuesday, September 7
Reviewed at Rundpinne
Wednesday, September 8
Interviewed at Pump Up Your Book
Thursday, September 9
Guest Post at Fodder for Fiction
Friday, September 10
Reviewed at Marta’s Meanderings
Monday, September 13
Reviewed at Book Reviews by Buuklvr81
Tuesday, September 14
Podcast at Across the Pond
Tuesday, September 14
Reviewed at Seize the Book Blog
Wednesday, September 15
Interview at Roses of Prose
Thursday, September 16
Guest Post at Chick with Books
Friday, September 17
Reviewed at Chick with Books
Friday, September 17
Reviewed at Review From Here
Monday, September 20
Reviewed at Proud Book Nerd
Tuesday, September 21
Guest Post at Life in the First Draft
Wednesday, September 22
Guest Post at Life in the First Draft
Thursday, September 23
Spotlight at The Plot
Friday, September 24
Character Interview at The Plot
Friday, September 24
Guest Post at The Book Boost
Monday, September 27
Interviewed at BlogCritics
Tuesday, September 28
Interviewed at Literarily Speaking
Wednesday, September 29
Guest Post at Literarily Speaking
Thursday, September 30
Guest Post at Literarily Speaking
Thursday, September 30
Reviewed at You Have How Many Kids???