Author of My Sister's Secrets

You know, when raising a family, they say that “the days are long and the years are fast.” Well, it’s true. On this side of the parenting coin, with my kids all grown and the ability to go to the bathroom alone, I can tell you … it flew. One minute I was wiping noses, sitting on bleachers, or wondering how I’d fit in my next (overdue) bath … the next I was attending my children’s college graduations … Six of them to be exact. 

The nicest thing about being on this side of things is that a bunch of little people run around calling me Nana. The most important thing I do with children these days is hand out surprises and cookies. Oh, and kisses. According to my five-year-old grandson, Eli, I give out too many of those (right before he chases me for more)!

As a big family, we had tons of fun. But, I remember some days being so tiring, frustrating, and overwhelming that I’d go through my ‘when they are grown’ list: When they’re all grown I’ll read a novel in the bathtub again. When they’re grown, my floors will be clean, there will be toilet paper and not just the cardboard roll on the holder, there won’t be wet towels on the floor. When they are grown, I’ll never, ever have to buy last-minute poster board at ten o’clock at night again … when they are grown.

That list got me through many rough days. These days, my house sparkles. I can actually make dinner with two hands, instead of one- while balancing a toddler on the opposite hip with the other. No, my hands are free … my children are all wonderful and they are off on their own leading awesome lives. Some of them have kids and are in a mode of busy that I remember all too well.

My beautiful grandchildren are a lot of work … well, actually, not for me. Me? I get to pick them up, play with them, spoil them rotten, and take them back home when they’re cranky. I get to meet them for breakfast, at the playground, or at the ice cream stand. When we’re done their Mom’s wipe them down and take the stinky, sticky little buggers’ home for a bath. I get into my clean car and drive home with a heart full of joy.  It’s a good gig if you’re lucky enough to get it.

I’m writing this on a Sunday in March and it’s raining here in New Jersey. That means my daughters (and a lot of other local moms) are stuck indoors with restless little ones. I know that’s the kind of day the ‘when they are grown’ list lengthens.

So, I thought I’d share a letter/poem with you. I wrote this to my firstborn child on the night before she graduated from college. Last week, as I was emptying the attic, preparing our family home for sale, I came across it. I wrote it more than a decade ago, the memories still made me cry.

On this chilly, wet day, I hope it will help other moms (and dads) to ease your mind. Try to quiet your thoughts and live just in this moment because this hecticness, too, shall pass.

And, remember, if only for these few minutes … the years do go fast.


You were born.

You didn’t cry.

Rather, you looked around the room,

focusing on the bright lights …

unafraid, confident, and curious.

I had never seen something so beautiful.

They put you in my arms,  You closed your eyes.

Everything you did in those first minutes of life,

spelled out who you would become.


First, there were tiny careful steps, wavering, calculated.

When you reached your destination, that wide, beautiful smile appeared.

You were so proud.

I, on the other hand,  couldn’t believe

something so beautiful came from me.

I marveled at your first words,

unaware of the extensive vocabulary yet to come.

You amazed me with your ability to communicate … with everyone,

the bank teller, the neighbors, the grocery clerk,

your grandparents, your friends …    me.

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, Peanut.”


On those first days of school, (Okay, for the first several weeks),

I followed behind the school bus without telling you,

afraid to let you disappear from my view.

I watched from a distance until you entered your school;

confident, curious, and capable.  was more nervous than you were …

a point you proved when you told me you knew I was doing it …

and asked me to stop.


I watched you cheer,

bursting with energy, excitement, and a drive to win.

Victory was sweet.

You acquired a taste for it.

It was a good thing you did, as you would know its flavor many more times.

It was not only cheerleading … there was

National Honor Society, being voted most likely to succeed,

many, many plays and concerts, and entertaining an arena filled with 60,000 people.

I watched you strut onto the football field at Vet’s Stadium …

wearing more courage than I have possessed in a lifetime.

Fourteen … front row … fifty-yard line.

I watched you move.

Confident, capable, and … mine.


The Audubon High School Stage-

I attended every performance …

You shined.

Large part or small- you took them all serious.

I felt your energy flow out to me.

It engulfed me.

Your facial expressions entertained me.

You entertained me.

You made me feel so proud,

It felt important to be a part of you.


High School rushing by …

Dress shopping, nail appointments, hair appointments, cheerleading practices,

play practices, STARS meetings, Cotillions, proms, winter balls class schedules,

selecting a school ring, senior pictures …

College Applications.

Your first college acceptance from your choice school received on Christmas eve.

You cried. I cried.

We hugged, laughed, and danced around the living room… this is it.

Real life.



I have watched you grow,

stumble, recover, succeed, and shine.

You have made me laugh,

You have made me cry.

Always … you have amazed me.

Bold, Brilliant, and heart-stoppingly beautiful.

I’ll watch you graduate tomorrow … and received the diploma you’ve earned.

I’ll feel happy that we’ve accomplished something major together.

I’ll feel sad as a door silently closes behind us.

But, more than anything …

I will watch you, as always, and wonder …

How something so beautiful … came from me.

I love you, Peanut!





About the author: Jeanne McNamee is an award-winning, best selling author of several novels in women’s fiction. You can find her at Links to all her social media can be found there. Sign up for her mailing list on her website to get notified of her new book releases, be eligible for give-a-ways, and get notified about new blog posts! Thanks for stopping by!







Chapter One

August 2014 


When a soul re-enters a person’s body—long after it had obviously departed—it’s just not the type of thing you witness and, well … somehow forget.

Doctor Josephine Kenneth had just come on duty at Cooper Hospital when she was paged to report to the trauma unit to provide much-needed respite for the doctor on call.

She’d already been advised the department had been alive with alarms, bells, and buzzers all evening. Owing thanks, no doubt, to the dreaded impending full moon.

Answering the call, she made her way past the nursing station where a busy secretary was typing on a computer keyboard while speaking into a phone propped between her ear and shoulder. Her words … yes, doctor, I’ve got it. Now, about the guy in room 333 … faded as Josephine passed, growing nearer to the exam room at the end of the hall.

She entered quietly and watched as Doctor Lara Bruneau, the senior trauma physician, was going over every inch of the body of a comatose man. He was stretched out on an exam table—unconscious, intubated, and completely naked. Josephine had learned he’d been in a serious motorcycle accident. As is standard, to achieve the most thorough exam possible, the trauma team had cut off what clothing remained after the asphalt had claimed its take.

Doctor Bruneau shouted out STAT lab orders and imaging requests—over the rhythmic sound of the respirator—to the nurse who was assisting her.

The doctor was a woman in her late forties with blond hair and a petite build. From all Josephine had witnessed, it was apparent she’d never allowed her small size to define her. Like a jaguar, her moves were quick and calculating, but most importantly … accurate. As a top healer in the world of life-threatening injuries, she was highly respected.

Josephine observed her steady and capable hands at work. During her time as a resident, she’d spent hundreds of hours working alongside the skilled surgeon and only hoped she’d someday acquire even half her talents.

Once she realized Josephine had arrived, Doctor Bruneau prepared to turn the stranger’s care over to her. Oddly enough, even though Josephine was in her third year of residency, he was actually her first authentic John Doe.

Doctor Bruneau dismissed the nurse who’d been helping her and turned toward Josephine. In a soft, compassionate voice she requested, “Hang with this one if you can, Josie. It’s going to be touch and go for him. Try to make sure he’s not left alone.” Cases like this wore heavy on their hearts. However, they’d each understood, when choosing this field of medicine: they simply wouldn’t be able to save them all.

Doctor Bruneau headed for the door. She paused at the trash can to peel off her purple non-latex gloves. Tossing them in, she turned back toward Josephine and sighed. She lowered her chin, closed her eyes, and shook her head, before leaving her alone with him.

Tentatively, Josephine moved in closer to study the mystery patient. She tried not to notice his amazing build. His hair was so black it almost appeared to be a deep blue. A late summer tan accentuated some very well-defined muscles. No wedding ring and no interruption in the bronze of his left ring finger told her he was probably single. She looked him up and down trying to concentrate only on surveying his injuries.

Frustratingly curious, she bent over, her lips close to his ear. “Who are you, John Doe? Who, out there in this big ole’ world, loves you? And who’s going to feel absolutely devastated when they find out you’re in here … with me?”

Assessing him again, she guessed he was in his early thirties. Hospital personnel usually relied on driver’s licenses of unconscious accident victims, but no documents were retrieved at the scene. His motorcycle had hit a tree and caught fire after he was thrown from it. The police assumed his saddlebags would probably have contained his identification. However, they were no more than ash when the firetrucks arrived to extinguish the bike.

Considering the amount of road rash and the mangled condition of his limbs, it amazed her how well preserved his face appeared. His helmet had surely done a good part of its job. The skin on his face was perfect—soft and flawless. But, she was all too aware of the God-awful destruction hidden beneath his unblemished façade.

Preparing to take him down to Radiology, Josephine snatched a sheet from a linen cart on the side wall and draped it over him. She propped a portable respirator on his chest so it would be ready to breathe for him when they traveled between floors.

Leaning in, she pressed her thumbs against each of his closed eyelids—raising them. His deep blue eyes were as vacant as sea glass on a barren beach. She’d seen it before. She could always tell when a patient’s lifeforce had left their body. It was usually long before the heart got the message to stop beating. Yes, the eyes were always the first to know when the soul departed. They would harden like ice on a lake with no reaction to light or activity—empty and soulless interpreters of nothing.

She realized transport had arrived when she heard the racket in the doorway. The noises were caused by a stretcher being jammed through a scarcely-big-enough entranceway. Its navigator was a tall, lanky male orderly. Once he’d cleared the threshold, he rolled the gurney across the room—bringing it to a halt next to the exam table.

John Doe didn’t flinch as they grabbed him and shifted his body over onto the stretcher. Limp and motionless, he was no more animated than a rag doll.

Once he was transferred, she tugged on the sheet to pull it up and had tucked it under his chin. Doctor Kenneth placed her lips close to his ear. “Okay, John, we’re going to take you down for some testing now.”

She reached back and grabbed his IV pole, which had several liquid sacks hanging from it. She inserted the rod into a port on the side of the stretcher.

She addressed the attendant with the mop of thick, messy brown hair by the name on his lab coat. “Harry, I’m Doctor Kenneth. I’ll pump the respirator bag and push from this end. You just pull and steer from the bottom there. We have to get him downstairs quickly.”

Not waiting for his reply, she moved some tubes around. After hooking up the device that took over the job of his lungs, she began pumping it with one hand. She reached back with the other and flipped the stationary respirator’s switch to off. The room went eerily quiet. Finally, she grasped the corner of the stretcher, thrust her hips forward against the frame, and started moving.

She and Harry maneuvered down the hall and onto an elevator. When they arrived on the basement level, they maneuvered through hallways and around corners until they reached an overhead sign that read RADIOLOGY DEPARTMENT. A tech greeted them and directed the way into the MRI suite.

At every turn, Josephine gently spoke to her patient. Just a little bump, she’d warned as they rolled him onto the elevator and again when the doors opened, and they’d rolled him off. Just a sharp turn here, John We’re going to transfer you over to the stretcher connected to the MRI machine Now, this table moves so don’t be alarmed It’s going to be loud, so I’ll be putting these foam plugs in your ears before the test begins I’ll remove them when you’re done You’re alright, John. She placed her hand on his shoulder … We’ve got you You’re gonna be alright.

She continued to explain everything that was happening as they took him to X-ray, CT scan, and back upstairs again. Josephine had warmly referred to him as John all the while. Relief followed when he was safely hooked back up to a vent and re-attached to the monitors in the trauma unit.

Josephine stayed by his side. She’d periodically checked in with the emergency department, but each time they’d advised her things had grown unusually quiet; therefore, she wasn’t needed. Lucky for John Doe—otherwise she’d have had to leave him on his own.

When the hum of the ventilator threatened to lull her to sleep in the dimly lit room, she sang to him … ♫ ♪Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, brother John, brother John ♪ ♫ He didn’t move an inch. On one stanza of ♪ Morning bells are ringing Morning bells are ringing, ♪ his night nurse, Megan, had wandered in before Doctor Kenneth had heard her coming. The amused RN merely offered a nearly glow-in-the-dark smile before leaving her alone with him once again.

She’d never been much of a singer, so when she bored with the English version, she’d start … ♫ ♪ Frère Jacques, frère Jacques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? ♪ ♫ It was the only French she’d ever spoken … if it could even be counted as speaking French.

In the wee hours of the morning, Josephine, needing to stretch her legs and get a second wind, went out to the nursing station. She found a weary Doctor Bruneau there—reading the reports containing the lab and testing results on their John Doe.

Doctor Bruneau dropped her eyes and frowned when she spotted Josephine. She shook her head. “It’s all bad news, Josie. He doesn’t have a tub of butter’s chance in hell of surviving this. As I feared, our Doe has a Diffuse Axonal Injury. On the first look at everything—and you know how hard DAIs are to predict by scans alone—it looks like a grade III. On the Glasgow Coma Scale, he was already a 3T when he was brought in. Sadly, we won’t have good news for his people—whenever we finally find them. Wherever they are, they’ll have to agree to discontinue life support. He’s simply never going to wake up from this. Ever.”

Josephine’s heart sank. She’d already known—by the vacancy in his eyes—he wouldn’t make it. They’d even expected it would turn out to be a DAI. But, it didn’t stop her from wanting a miracle for the good-looking guy she’d spent all night serenading. Poor John.

Leaving Doctor Bruneau at the desk, Josephine returned to his bedside. She sat on the black vinyl chair with the chrome armrests where she’d been sitting earlier. Reaching between her legs, she grasped the edge of the seat and walked her feet forward to scoot closer to him. With a sigh, she gazed at his beautiful, perfect, and youthful face.

Josephine never prayed anymore. She had a sixteen-year long beef with her Creator, and she had no doubt He knew it. But, she was calling Him out on it tonight. She leaned her elbows on the edge of the bed and wrapped a hand around her John Doe’s wrist, grasping it.

The next words she spoke were tender and soft and floated in the air like feathers in that dark, lonely room. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “God, I’m still madder than hell at You. We both know You owe me some answered prayers. Well, I want to cash in on one of those tonight … for this guy. All the medical science in the world won’t save this one. I know a miracle is a big order, but with all You’ve done to me—it’s the least You can do right now.” As nearly an afterthought, she added, “Amen.”

Josephine looked back up at the face of the man in the bed. She released his arm, leaned back in her chair, and audibly exhaled. For the first time all night, she felt the tiniest bit of hope for her handsome John Doe.


Chapter Two

October 2014 … Three Months Later 


Wide-eyed and gasping, Ann Marie McBride fell straight to her knees after rounding the corner to enter her son’s hospital room. The poor woman groaned, just before crying out, “Oh, dear, God!”

Startled by the commotion, Doctor Kenneth glanced up from the chart she held in her hand and hastily tossed it onto the bottom of the bed before dashing across the room to Ann Marie’s side. She’d moved so quickly, her lab coat had taken flight behind her like a bright white cape.

Ann Marie’s husband, Albert, had been a few paces behind. When he entered the room, he immediately stumbled backward—his back and palms coming to rest on the wall behind him— as he fixed his eyes on their eldest son, Donovan, sitting upright on his hospital bed.

Bending over and tucking her arm under Ann Marie’s armpit, the doctor slowly eased her onto to her feet. Her long red hair fell forward, practically covering up the blue monogram on her jacket, which read DOCTOR JOSEPHINE KENNETH. Her heart raced as she tried to explain to the woman in her grasp, “I didn’t call you because we wanted to surprise you. But, I’m afraid we didn’t consider the risk of nearly shocking you to death instead. I’m so sorry!”

With eyes still bulging and mouth wide open, Ann Marie glanced up at Doctor Kenneth. “Why … I … oh, my goodness …” Rapidly blinking and scrambling to her feet, she directed an incredulous gaze toward the bed. After glancing back at her husband—and appearing to suddenly trust her eyes—she stumbled, recovered, and ran toward Donovan with open arms.

Josephine smiled as she witnessed the mother and son reunion. Ann Marie wrapped her arms around Donovan, paused, leaned back, cupped his face in her hands and smiled through her tears as if she’d believed she’d never have had the chance to gaze into the open, alert eyes of her boy again. Technically—and medically—she’d been right. Albert joined her at the bedside and encircled his arms around his wife and son.

Crossing the room to join the trio, Doctor Kenneth reached out and grabbed the backs of two side chairs—one in each hand—and dragged them over near the bed. “Mr. and Mrs. McBride, why don’t you both have a seat, so Donovan can try to explain what happened here last night?”

Mr. McBride spoke, “Oh, yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He slid one of the chairs over toward his wife and closer to Donovan. He extended his hand out, waving it in the direction of the chair. “Sit here, dear.” He dragged the second one next to the first and sat down.

It still surprised Josephine when someone referred to her as ma’am. After all, she’d won a game of beer pong only a few weeks back while playing with a group of friends from college. Ma’am felt like a lab coat she might grow into—one that didn’t exactly fit her yet.

Ann Marie hesitated, as though she’d considered not moving away from her son. She leaned closer to Donovan, glanced at the chair, and sighed before sliding from the edge of the bed onto the nearby seat. She reached forward and grasped her son’s hand and gazed intently at him. “You must tell us what happened! I mean … this is a miracle! I can’t believe it! Today was scheduled to be the worst day of my whole life!”

Josephine knew no truer words had ever been spoken. This was to be the day Donovan McBride took his last breath. His parents had been coming in to say goodbye. After three months in a coma, with no hope of recovery, all the machines keeping him alive were to be turned off. Even Dr. Kenneth’s personal request for Divine intervention several months ago seemed to have gone unanswered.

“Oh, my God, what the …?” All eyes shifted to the doorway where a visibly shocked, thirty-year-old Liam McBride stood with both arms extended, gripping the matte gray door jamb on either side of where he stood. His eyes were as blue as mood ring stones, but each upper and lower lid was encircled with red rings, disclosing the emotional hell he’d experienced. Obviously shocked, he shuffled with the gait of an old man as he crossed the room to the bed, never shifting focus off his thirty-two-year-old brother. “Donnie? Mom and Dad? What’s going on? I thought….”

Donovan smiled at him. In a raspy, soft voice he said, “I’m no quitter, little brother. I hear you were supposed to be attending my funeral this week. I wanted to surprise you all by being a no-show!”  He stiffly reached out and welcomed an embrace, as Liam leaned in. Their hair blended perfectly. An identical match, you couldn’t tell where one mane ended, and the other began.

Liam leaned back and looked at his parents before turning his head and acknowledging Doctor Kenneth. “Hey, doc! This is something else, right?” He grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

Josephine bobbed her head up and down, smiled, and raised an eyebrow. “It’s quite a story … he’s pretty darned amazing.”

The good doctor had gotten to know the family quite well over the last three months as they’d kept a daily vigil by Donovan’s bedside. It’d taken the police a full three days to locate them using a partial license plate retrieved from the scene of his accident. But, once his parents were located, the police had driven them over to Cooper, so they might learn of the fate of their oldest child.

She’d never forget the night the McBrides arrived to see her John Doe for the first time. Sadly, it was a scene all too familiar to Josephine. The family had fallen completely apart while trying to absorb his fatal prognosis. The attending doctors failed to offer anything other than advising them to pray. She could still hear Ann Marie’s cries and Albert’s choked sobs—it had been heart-wrenching. Soon after arriving, and once Liam was there, they’d even called for a priest to perform the Anointing of the Sick … a Catholic sacrament reserved for those believed to be dying.

She’d routinely witnessed the appearance of sheer terror on the faces of many of the visiting loved ones of patients in her three years as a resident here. Mothers who refused to leave the side of a comatose child, not even to shower … grown men crying like babies at the bedside of a dying brother … the trauma unit was indeed a scary place. Looks of profound grief, expressions of immense pain, and copious amounts of tears flowed everywhere one looked. It was an environment in the hospital that severely contrasted with the bouquets of flowers, boxes of doughnuts, balloons, and laughter one would be sure to find upstairs on the maternity floor.

While the surgeons here could save a good deal of the people who were brought in, as soon as a patient was stable they were transferred to a step-down unit, making room for the next long-shot to be provided a bed. So, the mood on this floor was always one of high alert, master skill and, well, quite frankly … prayer.

Today was pure evidence the McBrides had made the right choice to take a wait and see approach to Donovan’s care. While the suggestion had been made for the family to discontinue life support, Mr. McBride had been adamant. “If our son’s going to be dead, then he’s going to be dead. But, I want to allow ample time for a miracle to reach him. I don’t see how anyone could object to that. We have money—if that’s what the concern is—but, we won’t be making any decisions to give up hope anytime soon. Hell, hope is all we have.” Even at the time, it was an alternative Josephine had been grateful for, as she’d become pretty attached to her first John Doe.

Josephine learned—as she’d suspected—he wasn’t married. Therefore, his parents had every legal right to choose to keep him on life support. In situations like this, the doctors didn’t argue with the family because they were usually empathetic enough to give them time to realize their loved one was, in essence … already dead.

Doctor Kenneth moved to the head of the bed, gazed into his eyes, and grinned as she rested a hand on Donovan’s shoulder. She nodded. “Now that everyone’s had time to catch their breath, how about telling them what happened here last night?”

She stepped back and rested her behind on the wall-mounted air conditioning unit. While she knew the comatose mind could imagine all sorts of crazy things, she’d have to admit—it was a great story and she was eager to hear it again.

Besides, she wanted to believe the Big Guy had granted her … an honest to goodness walking, talking miracle.


Donovan gingerly settled back against a pile of propped up, crisp, white pillows and waited as Liam moved away and seated himself on the bottom of the bed near the footboard. Donovan scanned the faces of his family. They all looked so strained. He was only beginning to understand what they’d endured. As the one who’d been in a coma, he wasn’t even aware he’d been gone for three months. In his memory, he’d just been with them for a family dinner the week before. The time he’d spent in this room didn’t exist for him.

If he thought about it, he’d have to admit there were periods of time where he could recall being in a black space. A peaceful place. But, there was no rational thought about it. He never wondered why he was there. It never occurred to him that he wasn’t here. But, by the look on their faces, they’d felt his absence. Every. Single. Day.

Realizing they were all staring at him in anticipation, Donovan began, “Well, I opened my eyes sometime in the middle of the night last night, and a man was sitting right over there.” He pointed to a dark blue, empty, reclining Geri Chair in the far corner, situated underneath the wall-mounted TV.

Everyone shifted their gaze to where he directed. Donovan rubbed the front of his neck. It was hard to swallow; his throat was raw.

Doctor Kenneth must have recognized his struggle because she shifted and poured him some water. Reaching across and raising the cup to his mouth, she offered his lips a straw she had fixed between her thumb and forefinger. She explained to the group, “His throat is very sore from being irritated by tubes for so long. It will be that way for a while.” Donovan’s family nodded in unison as he took a sip of the welcome remedy and wrapped his shaky hands around the cup, taking it from her.

He swallowed and began again … “The guy was surrounded by this incredible glow of white light. It was so warm and inviting and even sorta bluish in some spots. I wanted to stand up and get closer to it. It was as though a magnet was trying to pull me closer to him.” The memory still made him tingle. “Then, behind the dude, there was this huge ladder. It looked like it was propped up on that windowsill …” He balanced the cup in one hand and pointed to the window to the right of the chair. “… I could see the bottom rungs, but I couldn’t see the top. It seemed to go up into infinity. The ceiling over the ladder was gone—there was just emptiness. Just warm, safe, calm emptiness.” He paused and took another sip.

Ann Marie, Albert, and Liam each had their eyes fixed on Donovan. Not one of them had moved when Donovan had been speaking. One could hear a pin drop.

Albert leaned forward, “Do you think it was a dream, son? I mean … you’ve been pretty out of it for a long time.”

Donovan sat up taller in the bed. He knew they’d have trouble believing him. It was a pretty big story, and he hadn’t even gotten to the crazy part yet. “No, pop, I don’t. He was as real to me as the three of you are now. I’m telling you …”

Tilting her head, Ann Marie interrupted, “Did he say anything to you, Donnie? Like, did you actually talk to him, honey?”

Slightly shifting on the bed, he nodded. “That’s kinda the wild thing, mom …” He could picture the whole scenario but struggled for the right words to describe it. “The silence in my room was deafening. It was like coming out of a rock concert after sitting too close to the speakers. You know, like when you can hear but everything seems so far away and hollow? It was like being in a vacuum. I could see he was talking. His mouth was moving, and his face was lively. Sometimes his expression went from looking extremely serious to looking as though he was laughing out loud.”

His mother furrowed her brow. “But, you don’t know what he said to you … like why he was here?”

Donovan shook his head and glanced at Liam who was being unusually quiet and stroking his chin. Using his big toe, he poked his little brother’s thigh. “You’re not saying much …”

Liam dropped his hands into his lap, folded them, and used his fingers to create a steeple. He wagged it as he used it to point at Donovan. “Well, brother, this is a lot to take in. I came here today thinking I was saying goodbye to you, and here you are …” He unlocked his fingers and threw his hands in the air, “… sitting up and telling stories about some white-winged angel coming …”

Donovan interrupted. “They were black.” He realized he’d forgotten to tell them that crazy detail. The guy in the corner had an enormous span of beautiful black wings. He could picture them as clear as day. They’d expand up and out with the man’s movements and then flutter down to rest behind him when he remained still.

Liam furrowed his brow. “Black? What? Jeez, you’re killin’ me, Donnie!” He smiled.

“No, no … I mean it. The guy had black wings! Oh! And he looked just like Michael Douglas!” He glanced back at Doctor Kenneth for support. While she was nodding and smiling, he understood she’d only known what he’d told her, too. Like the rest of them, she’d only had this second-hand accounting after the fact.

Liam let loose a laugh, threw his head back, and smacked his hand down on his thigh. “Come on, Donnie. This had to be a dream!?! Michael Douglas?!?”

Before they’d all arrived today, in the little bit of time he’d had to prepare, Donovan recognized how crazy his story sounded—outrageous even—but he felt certain it had happened exactly as he shared. This was no dream. He could feel every minute of the entire experience. He stiffened his lips. “Well, choose to believe or not to believe … I can tell you an angel with black wings was right over there—in my room—and now, here I am … alive and talking with you.”

Ann Marie rubbed his arm. “I’m so very, very grateful for that, sweetie.” She leaned in closer to her son. “Did he stay with you all night?”

He smiled. He’d known his mother would be the one to believe him. He appreciated her validation. “The last thing I remember I was nodding, my lips were moving as though no tubes were present, and he was beaming in response to what my mouth was saying. I still have no idea what that was. I couldn’t even hear my own words. Then, the angel stood up, and it was as though a huge gust of wind blew across the room. The draft stung my eyes so, instinctively, I’d closed them.”

He paused and took in a breath. “When I opened them, he was gone, and I was gagging on the tube in my throat. The alarm on the ventilator went off and—before I knew it—Doctor Kenneth here …” He turned and reached a hand toward her—she stood and grasped it. “… and a nurse came rushing in! Next thing I knew, my room was full of people, someone was yanking at the tube, and I shot straight up in my bed, taking in a huge—life-giving—breath of air. The trauma team in my room began clapping, crying, and laughing! I didn’t even realize why everyone was so emotional until things settled down and Doctor Kenneth told me what had happened to me and how long I’d been here.” He squeezed her hand before letting it fall away.

Albert clapped his hands together. “Well, that sure is some story, son. Whether it happened or if it was a dream doesn’t much matter. We’re just happy as hell you’re back with us! This is an answered prayer!”

Dr. Kenneth moved to the foot of the bed, next to Liam, and picked up Donovan’s chart. Holding it to her chest, she wrapped her arms around it. She addressed Donovan. “I’m going to finish making rounds. I know you all have a great deal of catching up to do! I’ll be back to check on you before I leave today.” She grinned and nodded at the group before heading for the door.

Donovan watched her leave. The fact that she was beautiful didn’t go unnoticed by him, nor did her kindness. He would never forget how calm and soothing her voice had been last night as she tried her best to tell him about the last three months of his life. She’d even stayed by his bed when sleep beckoned him because he’d been afraid to close his eyes again. Her words flowed like a lullaby when she reassured him … You’re alright I’ll be right here I promise you—you’ll wake up. He leaned forward to catch the last glimpse of her as she rounded the corner out of his room.

Grinning ear to ear, Liam jammed his finger into his brother’s leg. “She’s easy on the eyes, isn’t she, brother?”

Donovan smirked. “I’m calling dibs!”

Liam nodded and threw his open hands up in the air. “After what you’ve been through for the last three months? She’s all yours!”



Whew! What a ride!

As of 12:01 AM, my campaign on Kindle Scout for My Sister’s Secrets has ended!

It has been a long 30 days! As a writer, it’s always so hard to ‘throw your hat in the ring’… add to that the need to prove you can market yourself and you have yourself one really stressful month.

So,  at 5 o’clock this morning… I waited for my final stats to post… here they are! KS Final Stat

I feel that I did my very best and ran a strong campaign. My total views ended up being 2813.  46% of those views came from Kindle Scout and 54% of them came from my marketing. I was on the Hot and Trending list for 711 of 720 total hours. My highest day of views (day 1) was 475. My lowest day (day 17) was 24 views- that knocked me off the H & T list for one hour the next day. I rallied the troops, which netted 144 views and I jumped back onto H & T for the remainder of my campaign.

The holidays were tough but I managed to get pretty good views through them. For those considering a run (don’t do it) through the holidays (really…don’t do it), my views for those days are as follows: Xmas eve 50, Christmas day 55, New Years Eve 58, NY day 49.

I was fortunate that so many groups allowed me to post every few days and so many of my friends and family shared me several times through the month. You all really circled the wagons and I just love you for having invested in my dream.

My husband and I packed up on the morning of New Years Eve and headed down to my sisters house at the shore. It was a much-needed diversion for the end of my campaign. For the last 2 days, I stopped refreshing every hour (of course I still checked it periodically) and today it feels as though there is something I am forgetting to do!

I feel like I’ve done my part- here’s hoping that Kindle is looking for my genre. They don’t make their wish-list for manuscripts public- so there’s no telling if they will select My Sister’s Secrets for publication. Frankly, I’ve seen a lot of really talented writers (with many successful self-published books) passed over.

No matter what the result- I feel like I can hold my head up… I had great feedback on the book and clearly those viewing must have been voting to some degree- to keep me on the hot and trending list. One thing is for certain, this is only the beginning for My Sister’s Secrets journey… it will be published in 2016.

You can sign up for updates and special promotional rates at

Sissies Need Not Apply!


Jeanne and dogs

Ten days left and two-thirds over! That’s where I’m at in this Kindle Scout gig! I couldn’t have imagined how much marketing (=bugging/begging) to friends and family would need to go into my campaign. But without views and votes- it was unlikely that I would even be read. I do apologize for drowning everyone’s feed for the past twenty days (and please allow this apology to cover the next ten days!). I also want to sincerely thank those that viewed, voted and shared my novel. So many of you reached out to your friends and family and many left really nice reviews about my book. I have also had complete strangers view and vote after seeing my posts on various group sites that have allowed me to post. Christmas magic at its best!

All of that being said, it’s scary to be on the downslope now. Judgement day is fast approaching and I am second guessing everything. Should I have waited until next year… what if they have their quota of books in my genre for 2015? What if they’ve exhausted their  advance budget for 2015? January was so close. The guessing won’t stop.

Kindle doesn’t share information on what exactly motivates them to publish you. A bunch of authors (myself included) hang out on Kboards sharing stats and trying to analyze the formula based on who is being selected and who was passed over.  I have seen novels passed over that received more than two-thousand views. Equally, I just saw a book that sat on the Hot and Trending (top 20) list for 91% of its campaign not be selected. No matter what our creative brains can surmise… we are none the wiser about the selection process.

For anyone thinking about submitting a novel for a campaign, I will share some advice that I received from E.B. Brown, an exceptional author & friend. Before submitting to Scout:

  1. Make sure you have some sort of following on social media (Facebook, Twitter, etc…).
  2. Build a web page- there are plenty for free out there.
  3. Make sure your editing is pretty tight.
  4. Go to the best seller list in your genre and make sure your book cover looks like the ones you find there.

I delayed my submission for more than a month to do the things listed above.  Oh! And just one more thing before you decide to hit that submit button for YOUR novel… put your sturdy boots on… this is no game for sissies.

I know that I’ve presented myself in the most professional way possible and I know that I have done my best to run a top-notch campaign. In ten (long) days, Kindle will decide if I made the cut or not. I am taking in a deep breath and hoping my nerves hold up.

If you haven’t already viewed and voted for My Sister’s Secrets– You can do so here:

This author’s book launched the same day as mine and we’ve been cyber hand-holding and talking each other through this process- please take a look at Lay Me Down by Tamara Hart Heiner here:

This author reached out with a nice review of my book during this lonely process- please take a look at Rosette by Cindy Rinaman Marsch here:

Please check out the books on the website of the author that gave me so much advice and support during my campaign, E. B. Brown. Here:


In my birthday suit!

As a writer, rejections are part of the process but, usually something painfully private- between me and my mailbox. One week ago I took the plunge and entered my novel My Sister’s Secrets in the Kindle Scout program. Once accepted, Kindle posted a 5000-word excerpt from my novel and included a “nominate me” button. Seems benign enough, right? Wrong. As a part of this campaign I am supposed to drum up interest for my book- sharing it on my social media accounts… every one of them. As people take the time to read and vote, they are automatically entered to receive a free copy if I am selected for publication. So… what’s the catch you ask? Well, if I am not selected every single person that voted for me receives an email advising them that I was not chosen. The rejection process is no longer between me and my mailbox… rather, between me… and all of you.

I have never felt more naked in my life!

That being said… no matter what the outcome, I am glad I jumped! I have spent 3 years dealing with back issues and have not been able to work in my normal profession- as an ultrasound technologist. I was feeling pretty useless until my husband bought me voice recognition software. I couldn’t sit at the computer for long periods of time- but I was able to sit in a recliner and dictate. I had started writing My Sister’s Secrets (MSS) in 2008 or so. Working full time -with 3 kids in college and 3 more at home- didn’t allow for something as frivolous as a writing career. Once my back prohibited me from working full time, I picked up my outline for MSS and began again. I attended a writer’s conference and pitched the book to 6 agents- all 6 asked for some or all of the manuscript. After several months, 2 agents declined to represent the book and the other 4 never replied- very unusual when they’ve asked for the materials. Recently, I sent an email to someone and they found it in their spam file. Turns out my old fashioned AOL address isn’t too popular with the new gmails of the world. It may explain why I didn’t hear back from the remaining agents.

After all the time and effort I’d invested, I decided to self-publish MSS. While investigating my options on Kindle Direct Publishing- I stumbled upon Kindle Scout. I had my daughter, Allison edit for me- as she had just graduated with an English degree from Rutgers. After she was done, I still fiddled around with it for 2 more months (in some cases accidentally editing errors back in and then having to find them.). At the urging of my family, I finally threw my hat in the ring and Scout accepted me for a 30-day campaign. By this time, a writer, E.B. Brown, had taken me under her wing. She has multiple self-published novels that are very successful and urged me to just take the leap and submit my novel. She has an awesome book on Scout now- that she’s managed to keep on the hot and trending list for 21 days! I am linking her- without apology- at the end of this blog. I owe her a debt of gratitude… she’s given me advice on how to pace my writing, advice on how to pick my book cover (go to the best seller list in your genre’ and see what’s selling…Who knew?), to sharing what she knew about how Scout works (based on her association with other writers). She has been in constant contact with me by text since I launched and shared my link on her wall and in her blog. She is the very example of the writer I will be if I am fortunate enough to be successful at this. I will never forget how she made this a less lonely and less frightening experience for me.

So, here we are… on day 7! I have managed to land on the Hot and Trending list on Scout- I have remained there for 7 days… I had hoped I could land there for one day… for one hour. I am so grateful to the people who took the time and bother during this crazy, busy holiday season to cast a vote for me. Thanks for all the kudos about the excerpt- you can’t begin to know how much that means to a writer! Everyone’s been so kind. Now… to make it through 22 more days of this adventure! If you haven’t voted yet- you can follow the link below. Scout allows you to pick 3 novels. You’ll get a free copy of any and all that are selected for publication. If you want to find me on Scout- just follow my link. If you want to find me in person… I will be easy to locate… I’m the one hanging out in my birthday suit! (my book) (EB Browns Book) (another author… launched the same day I did… we’ve been sharing the angst! )

Happily Ever After

I’m the type who believes in the natural pairing of things. You know, those that complement each other: salt and pepper, cream and sugar, kings and queens, yin and yang and meat with potatoes. The balance of these things makes me feel, well, comfortable.

It actually bothers me when I meet someone who’s alone. It’s not natural. Even Noah understood it- leaving no pair unmatched- while loading his ark. Smart man. It’s no surprise that many have come to know me as a matchmaker.

I’d love to brag that my blind-date endeavors have ended in happily ever after. Honestly? I’d have to admit that a great deal of them ended in happily ever disaster. Well, save one. But, even that one didn’t go exactly as planned.

On a sunny autumn day, I’d received a call from my friend Pattie.  She requested my matchmaking services for her brother, Jim- a divorcee with five children. I was newly separated with three children. However, I wasn’t a consideration, as he was eleven years my senior.

I’d met Jim on a few occasions at Pattie’s house. I remembered that he was warm and charming, but the five children would be a hard sell. Then I remembered my friend Denise (not her real name).

She was in her 40s and attractive. She’d often expressed regret that she had not had children. Boy, did I have a guy for her! Numerous phone calls set the date. But, there was a glitch- Jim wouldn’t go alone. So I agreed to go along.

During the drive to the restaurant, conversation came easily. After introductions, I excused myself to wait at the bar. At the end of their date, I returned to their table, ready for the drive home.

Once in the car, I asked: “What did you think of Denise?”

He smirked, “Denise who?”

Perplexed, I motioned back to the restaurant. “Denise… my friend!”

He said, “I didn’t notice anyone all night, except you.”

So, I did what any gal who loves cream and sugar would do- I married him.

When they handed me my youngest child I remember thinking … by the time this child graduates high school~ I will be 50 years old! At the time, I had six more children waiting at home~ five of them were under the age of ten! I was sure that ’50 years old’ was an eternity away. It wasn’t. This past January, I celebrated my fiftieth birthday and in June I cried to the tune of Pomp and Circumstance as my youngest child graduated high school.

 I had flashbacks of my life as I realized this was not only the beginning of the rest of his life… it was the beginning of the rest of mine. I reflected on years of birthdays, and boogers and backpacks. I smiled at memories of first days of school and delighted giggles on Christmas mornings. I remembered Band-Aids and fevers and emergency room visits, and those frightful sleepless nights- with a sick child – when it felt like morning would never come. The memory of chubby little arms around my neck and a soft ‘I love you’at bedtime, brought tears to my eyes. Endless appointments and grocery shopping and the daily what’s for dinner crossed my mind, as well. I recalled the ever elusive lost mitten or shoe on school mornings, as we rushed to get out of the house on time.  On such an emotionally charged day, the memory of the nurse placing my newborn son in my arms was almost too much to bear. In little more than the blink of an eye, eighteen years were here and gone.

When I was in the thick of raising seven children, my mother (who also raised 7 of us) used to tell me that it would all go by so fast. It didn’t feel fast back then… it felt like forever! It was fast.

Most of the things that I worried about ~never happened and many things I never even thought of ~ did. I couldn’t fathom how I was going to physically and financially raise seven kids…but it all worked out.

I once posted a Facebook message to my niece in response to a weary parenting post she had made, my response read a little like this blog.  She later told me that she printed it out so she could read it on her challenging days and it really helped her (thanks for the inspiration, Jennifer). So, I want to utilize this blog to reach out to young moms who are in the thick of it.  I will share my stories in the hopes of easing the young, worried minds of moms out there who are trying to be the best mom and raise the best kids. The best sight is always hindsight and mine is now 20/20.

On my son’s graduation day, I asked myself, “What would you have told your 32 year- old self on the day they handed you your youngest son?” I would have told her that her fifty year- old self says to relax, take one day at a time, and to sit down and actually eat breakfast with the kids each morning. I would have told her to enjoy every day-and whatever surprise that day brings. I would have said stop worrying-it gives you wrinkles… they all make out okay, they all go to college and not one of them went to kindergarten in diapers.

(special thanks to my sister Kathy for suggesting that I start a blog!)

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