ABOUT
THE BOOK:
Title:
Accident
Author:
Joanne Simon Tailele
Genre:
Women's Contemporary Fiction
Length:
254 pages
Published:
July 9th 2013 by Outskirts Press (first published March 19th 2013)
ISBN:
1478705361
Blurb:
Susan
Jennings is an alcoholic soccer-mom in the 1980's that buries her
secret buried behind the bottle. Her addiction causes a fatal car
accident that kills her only son and the driver of the other vehicle.
Her mother and daughter are badly injured. Susan is charged with
vehicular homicide and sentenced to ten years in a prison cell the
size of her walk-in closet. She must first learn to stay alive behind
the dangerous prison walls, and then face her addiction before she
can try to win her teenage daughter's forgiveness. Deanna Jennings
awakes from a coma to discover that she has lost a limb in the
accident, and her baby brother. She is not interested in forgiving
her mother. With her father becoming increasingly distant, she relies
heavily on her devout Christian grandparents to get her through the
trauma. She meets the handsome and charismatic pastor of their
church, Reverend Jim Olson. Despite the vast difference in age,
Deanna is convinced the pastor has a romantic interest in her. When
Susan discovers that Reverend Olson is now pursuing her daughter, she
is determined to use any means necessary to be granted an early
parole. She must save her daughter from the snares of the devil
hiding behind the clergyman's collar.
BOOK
LINKS:
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18196836-accident?from_search=true
Amazon
Paperback:
http://www.amazon.com/Accident-Joanne-Simon-Tailele/dp/1478705361/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1378819403&sr=1-1
Amazon
Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/ACCIDENT-ebook/dp/B00BXOTYX6/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=1-1&qid=1378819403
EXCERPT:
Chapter
One
She
was fifteen years old and alone. The first gulp of the dark liquid
scorched her throat and burned all the way down. Her eyes stung and
she fought the urge to vomit. The second gulp went down a little
easier. By the third, the warmth inside began to surface toward her
skin. As it settled like a warm blanket around her, she knew she had
found a way to keep her secret, for at least one day at a time. By
the time she finished the bottle, she was no longer ripping long
strands of red hair from her head.
***
Susan
Jennings awoke from the dream, shaking off the old memory that had
haunted her for twenty years. As her eyes adjusted to the harsh
fluorescent lights, she noticed the sterile green walls and the metal
rails on either side of the bed. When her vision cleared she saw her
husband, Thomas, slumped in a straight-backed chair, his dark head
cradled in his hands. “What happened?” she whispered.
Thomas
jerked up when he heard her voice. Shadowy circles surrounded his
deep brown eyes. His rumpled shirt suggested he had slept in the
chair. Tears brimmed in his eyes. His words were jagged and raw as he
recapped the accident in halting phrases. He was still in a state of
shock as he toggled back and forth between his wife’s and his
daughter’s rooms on different floors.
“You
missed the sign, the stop sign, Susan. The other car couldn’t stop.
Your car . . . the whole passenger side crushed . . . the other car
rolled.”
He
sucked in his breath and wrung his hands, a nervous habit.
Absentmindedly, he reached for the tube which pushed oxygen through
the cannula in her nose. He squeezed the tube, blocking off the air.
A lock of his jet-black hair fell over his forehead.
His
words brought back flickers of recollection to her, the children
laughing in the back seat, a white sedan approaching from the right .
. . crawling from the ditch . . . her late model station wagon
crushed almost beyond recognition . . . the sedan rocking on its
hood.
Susan
gazed down at her body. A few bandages covered superficial cuts on
her arms. She reached for the mirror on the bed tray and noticed long
strands of red hair twisted in the palm of her hand. She shook her
hand and the hair fell to the tile floor. Her left eye was turning a
muddy purplish-brown. Dried blood caked at her hairline. She fingered
the few stitches above her right eyebrow.
Thomas
continued, “Deanna and your mother were pinned inside. The EMT’s
talked about taking Deanna’s leg off to get her out, but they
didn’t . . . at least . . . not yet. The doctors say she has
internal bleeding and several broken ribs. Her leg is a mess. They
still don’t know if they can save it. Shit Susan, she’s in a
coma.” Without thinking, he squeezed and released the tube, causing
the air to come in spurts through her nose.
“No,”
Susan whispered. “That can’t be right. We were on our way to the
mall. Maybe the rain . . . .” Her words trailed off as Thomas shook
his head. “And . . . what else?” A sense of dread caused a shiver
down her spine.
“The
car folded like an accordion. They found your mom wedged between the
windshield and the dashboard in the front seat. Her arm is pretty
messed up. Your dad said she might have had a stroke too.”
It’s
all so hazy. Why can’t I remember? Panic began to set in. “What
about Daniel?”
Thomas
let go of the tube and cradled his face in the palms of his hands.
His shoulder-length jet-black hair hung loose and obscured his face.
Racking sobs shook his body and a near-primal growl escaped his lips.
Finally, angry eyes looked up at her. “He’s dead, Susan!” He
spat the words at her. “He got thrown from the car. They found him
in a field. He hit his head on a rock and he broke his neck.”
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR:
I
wrote for my own enjoyment for as long as can remember. My first
short story was written in blue colored pencil. It was called "The
Mystery of the Missing Marble". I was ten years old. I still
have the original in a fire-proof metal box with all my writing. In
it, there are tons of one page excerpts, kind of like a diary, but
written only as the mood inspired me over the years along with short
stories and a little poetry. I didn't get the bug to write
professionally until 2010. I ran across an internet article about
NANOWRIMO. I was intrigued and thought "I'm going to try to
write a novel." That is where my debut novel, ACCIDENT was born.
Now I can't stop. It is like an addiction. I am married to a
wonderful man and together we have six children and nine
grandchildren. Although I grew up in Ohio and will forever be a
Buckeye fan, we love life in southwest Florida where we can spend our
leisure time on the white sandy beaches or out cruising in our little
boat.
AUTHOR
LINKS:
http://joannetailele.wordpress.com
(my blog - Writing Under Fire)
http://
www.joannetailele.com (my website)
http://www.amazon.com/Joanne-Tailele/e/B00DTE6X14/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0Amazon
Author Page)
https://www.facebook.com/JoanneTaileleAuthor
(Facebook Author Page)
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