Happy St. Patrick's Day - Win a Book!

Let’s look forward to these moments when we can celebrate even as the world shares troubling times. Here, on the prairies, the global pandemic only has us beginning shutdowns and voluntary social isolation. Man, that sounds gloomy.  But it’s not, not yet - hopefully never. At our house, we’re catching up on episodes of the television series, Lost, and making calls to friends and relatives And,
with the dregs of winter still here, keeping warm. So, it isn’t, and can’t all be doom and gloom. Especially today. It's St. Patrick's Day, a day to celebrate. So have a beer or your favourite beverage and toast another day and up here, the slow demise of winter. 

Me, I’m going to celebrate the day with a little Guinness and a contest.

I’ll be drawing two winners for an e-copy of The Tears We Never Cried. Contest ends midnight, March 18, 2020 CST.

Here are the rules:
You have to be a newsletter subscriber. Not one already?

Sign up for my newsletter, The Walkabout, and you're entered. Click below to sign on to not only be entered in the contest but keep up with my world of books:

My Newsletter - The Walkabout - Sign up

Already a subscriber, send me an e-mail (ryshia@ryshiakennie.com) with The Tears in the re: line. 

In the meantime, here’s some of what you’ve been missing - an excerpt from The Tears We Never Cried:

 The Tears We Never Cried:

Fifteen minutes after mother left, I was outside shoveling like a mad woman. Somehow the activity calmed the despair that seemed to hit me at odd moments, it was like premature grief, and I really didn’t want to grieve for her before she was actually gone. 

The shoveling helped. But it was tiring work, even for me and I’m not a small woman. Big-boned, mother always said. Another thing I didn’t get from either of my parents. My father, at least the man I had called father, wasn’t short. He was built reed-slim with bones that weren’t considered enduring. 

I was breaking a sweat and the sun was gleaming hot on my neck even as my thumbs began to freeze in my wool gloves. From the corner of my eye I saw a glint and flash that made me look up as the hard snow cracked under the weight of a vehicle. Russ’s SUV was pulling into our driveway and my heart, I hated to admit it even then, did a small skip. I literally didn’t breathe. Instead, anticipation hung in my chest like a raw and aching, or maybe whimpering was more appropriate, beast. The door opened and I recognized the figure getting out. I had known it was him before then. 

Russ. 

“Hi, Cassie,” he said as he opened the gate like it was normal for him to appear unexpectedly. 

I leaned on the shovel and wished I could have ripped the tasseled toque from my head. It was far from my best look. I wished I was dressed slightly better, that I was wearing makeup that ... I stopped such ridiculous thoughts right there. I had more serious things to contemplate. 

“What’s wrong?” He took the shovel from my now limp hand and dropped it to the side. 

I’m so mixed up. And those words almost came out. I stared at Russ horrified I had come so close to spilling my unwanted emotions at his feet. Despite my best efforts, tears filmed my eyes. 

Bless Russ, he never said a word. Instead he just wrapped his arms around me and I burrowed into the depths of his down-filled parka. His parka was slightly damp when I sheepishly pulled away. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue.

I blew my nose. Could I be any more unappealing?

I realize that the end of the excerpt might be disturbing in the world's current pandemic alert. But, if you live in the frozen north, you'll know that cold weather can make a healthy person's nose run. And, in Cassie's case, that's exactly what happened.

The Tears We Never Cried:

A mother’s tragic diagnosis.

A daughter’s life on hold.

An ending and a new beginning ...

Cassandra McDowall’s mother has been forgetful for a while, but she never anticipated rapid-onset Alzheimer’s to come out of nowhere and shake their world to its very core.

As Cassie puts her already-lackluster life on hold, her mom’s indomitable will and spirit of adventure prove to be a handful.

And as her mother fades, the two embark on one last adventure—a journey that reveals secrets on the brink of being lost, the joy of foreign sunsets, and love where she hadn’t thought it possible.

Until later. 

Dream big and travel safe.

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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Latest release:  The Tears We Never Cried

What You Won't Do For Research

I've been spending one evening a week at the local police station. An odd place to spend one's evenings. But it's here I find myself since I've signed up for the Citizens Police Academy. I knew that writing romantic suspense meant that I needed to learn more about policing and crime. Surfing the net, and safely scouring the library shelves was really research on the fringes. That all changed one evening in mid-January.

So, there I am, me and a classroom spilling with enthusiastic wannabe cops. BTW do you know that the nickname, cops, has a couple of supposed reasons for existing - one was that the English Bobbies had copper buttons that flashed in the sunlight. The other... not sure.
But, I digress - right now it's me and a classroom full of people who may be pulling me over for a traffic ticket in years to come. Hopefully not, but my foot is a little heavy some days - not all, just saying.

But let's not talk traffic, that's dull compared to the topics we have covered; search and rescue, gangs, drug trafficking, explosives, canines - and there's more with still weeks to come; including my ride-along. I was telling my writer group about my new experience and one author's eyes lit up when she heard that I'd literally have a "captive" audience for my questions as the ride-along is for a twelve hour shift. Somehow, I don't think the ride along will be an opportunity to interrogate. At least not on my side of the fence. There's that old adage about backseat drivers or in this case, interrogators.

So I have learned about the city's gangs, seen the most common drugs - literally as they were passed around in baggies. I've seen a gang initiation lifted from facebook, of all places. It was frightening in its brutality. I learned about the police divers rescuing in mid winter beneath the ice. No rescue, only retrieval - count me out, wait for spring. With all the crime stats, drug lair stakeouts and gang activity info that I've been faced with - well... If I look at you sideways, don't take offence, I'm looking at everyone sideways these days.

Then there was the police dog. Yes, I know he's rough and tough but I just wanted to take him home and cook him dog biscuits. Nope, he wasn't interested in anything or anyone other than his rubber ball and his handler.

So off to the land of gangs and crime. Interesting stuff especially the gangs. After all, there was a gang in Marshal on a Mission. I'm guessing there will be a gang soon, again in another story.

Stay safe and if you're anywhere near the frozen north - keep warm.

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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Latest release:  The Tears We Never Cried

A New Release - The Christmas Countdown - It's Crazy!

The days are ticking away and Christmas is fast approaching...and I haven't done any Christmas shopping. In my defence, I have a book coming out on December 10 which has pretty much taken my attention. But we'll get back to that later. For now it's my abysmal lack of Christmas preparation that has me a bit frazzled. I admit I did have the "how are we doing Christmas supper" talk with my brother. This year is going to be a bit different as we've decided to split the cooking and meet in the middle - mom's. My mother has always hosted Christmas which sounds like an imposition on her. In reality, it's what she's always wanted. And we do the cleaning up - now we're doing the prepping up too. This year she's supplying the place and us the food. Although I did hear she's cooking turnips.

Sigh.

Don't know about you but I've never liked turnips. There's something about that root vegetable that just - well it's one of those things you eat so you don't starve.


Anyway, today I'm pushing that toe deeper into the waters of Christmas preparation and hauling out the Christmas decorations...  this evening. We'll see how that goes. But for now, with no ornaments out and about - I'll share a pic of my recent visitor looking suitably Canadian/Winter/Christmas with her touque.

Yes, another five second photo shoot - she was not much enamoured of the touque. And, I know, I'm pushing things here but my next post, I promise, will be festive.


In the meantime, we're counting down not just to Christmas but on December 10 The Tears We Never Cried is releasing. Have you pre-ordered your copy?

Here's an excerpt from The Tears We Never Cried:

Prologue
From the diary of Jessica Jane McDowall
I’d always thought that death should come quickly. There’s nothing humane about lingering. But nature is cruel and there’s no finer example than what happened to Mama.
Mama’s illness was the worst of a string of bad luck that only brightened once with the birth of my daughter, Cassandra Lynn. But life is a fickle thing. You give life and then you have life taken away.
Mama and Dad have been gone for almost a year, my husband, Tom for quite some months. It’s only me and Cassie now and that part feels right. What feels wrong is the fact that my parents are gone. I know I’m too old to feel like this. After all, I’m the mother of a nine- year-old, but I feel like an orphan. I have nothing left of Mama but the pearls she so loved.
I plan never to tell Cassandra what happened to Mama. I know it’s about as useful as collecting good luck charms. I feel if I don’t talk about it, then it has become rather like Pandora’s box, safe as long as it remains tucked away ... unseen ... unknown ...

Chapter One December 6
I remember the moment it happened. I had barely pulled away from the curb, done a quick shoulder check, and that’s when life broadsided me.
I was thirty-nine, coincidentally exactly forty weeks from my fortieth birthday. I’ve lived forever since that moment, or so it seemed. Even though it was really only a year and change out of my life, that day that began it all. It was a day like any other except ... I swear the ring on my phone was louder than normal. And Mother’s voice was strident and demanding.
“Cassie, you best get over here now. I’ve lost my best pen and they’ve taken my Christmas cards away.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but the panic in her voice was real and like nothing I had heard before.
“Cassandra McDowall?” The disembodied voice was no longer my mother’s, but instead one that was male and full of authority.
“Yes.” Somehow my fingers were already knotting in trepidation of what he might want.
“This is Tod Rushinski, staff sergeant with the Regina City Police.”
My palms began to sweat.
“Your mother is Jessica Jane McDowell?”
“Yes.” Fortunately it was the only word required for it was the only word I could choke out. The police never phoned for a good reason.

“We have your mother here at the station.”
“My mother? Is she all right?” Images of my tiny mother, cuffed and chained, surrounded by burly police officers poised to pounce at her slightest move sent shock waves through me. I imagined the terror on her face, her usually neatly coiffed hair askew. Horror reels played through my mind. Mother hurt, injured, attacked by unknown thugs.
Elder abuse, rape, mugging.
Mother, her coral pink lipstick smeared across one crinkled cheek, swinging her purse and being taken down and left bruised and alone by a dumpster.

Who could have done this to her? What had happened? I couldn’t choke out the question. Instead I had a chokehold on the steering wheel....

So sit down with a glass of your favourite beverage and relax, enjoy the season and watch one of those Christmas movies or read your copy of The Tears We Never Cried a book that explores love in ways that go beyond romantic love - perfect for the season. Or, at least I hope... Get your copy and see for yourself.

If you're on bookbub - check out the contest that's running there. Give me and other authors a follow and be entered to win a gift card. Fessing up - there's a number of social medial links you can follow us on - I'd prefer Bookbub, just saying. But in the end - fingers crossed that you enter and win! 

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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