Please welcome Mona Sedrak. Her book is a heart tug for sure.
Have you ever lost someone you loved––a spouse, child, parent, or best friend? When the shock and pain of the loss was fresh, and your life was in a tailspin, were you convinced you would never recover? In the moment, we all believe the adage, “Time heals all wounds,” is rubbish. But the human spirit is resilient. Six Months details the struggle of one woman who lives through every mother’s nightmare but recovers and rebuilds her life. Then her life is filled with beauty once more when she finds a new love. New loves never replace what you lost, but they can help you find closure and enrich your life in ways you never thought possible.
For twenty years, Mikala Jacobson had it all: loyal friends, a precious little girl, and a man who adores her. Then double tragedy strikes and her perfect world shatters. Good friends, Rena and Jake are instantly by her side, protecting her from her husband sordid secret life and his final drunken confession. Secrets, lies, and the truth of Molly—Mikala’s daughter’s death, culminate in a healing process. Mikala finds strength to rebuild and redefine her life. As her spirit and heart heal, she not only finds closure, but the beauty of a new love built upon an old friendship.
Mona Sedrak lives a double life. By day, she is a suit-wearing, prim and proper, professor, administrator, researcher, and lecturer. By night, she is a PJ wearing dreamer and writer of books that make people sigh, smile, cry, laugh, and fall in love. She lives in Ohio with her husband of thirty-two years, a cranky, geriatric maltipoo, and an obnoxious Amazon parrot who runs the house and terrifies its inhabitants. Mona has a long publishing history in academia, but she started writing fiction recently.
The Wild Rose Press: https://goo.gl/1emrMC
Excerpt:Wandering from room to room, she memorized every detail of the life she and David built––the family photos lining the mantel, the hand-carved jewelry box David bought her on their honeymoon in Salzburg, and Molly’s tea set arranged on the coffee table for evening tea. A cold, hollow ache took residence in her belly where the knot of dread made its appearance that morning. The sensation expanded with alarming speed, dug in deep, and planted roots. Like an unwanted guest appearing without warning and bringing too many bags for just a brief visit, sorrow moved in, shifted, and stretched then got comfortable for the long haul.
When the house line rang, Mikala froze, and her gaze darted to the cordless on the couch. Her breath stuttered. Her heart seized. Clarity forced its way past the tentacles of sheer terror strangling, dominating, and paralyzing her. She shook her head and took a step forward, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness and nausea so tremendous, she doubled over wrapping her arms around her womb. Mikala’s entire being, inside and out, shook as her heart tumbled about in her chest without a set time, tempo, or rhythm. Her breaths grew shallow and choppy, and her legs turned to rubber. The cord tethering Molly to her and this world had been severed.
The telephone rang four times before Mikala forced her body to cooperate. God, she hadn’t wanted to answer. She hadn’t wanted to know. She’d even considered not answering, protecting herself and her beautiful family from the annihilation of their world. People said she was strong––the strongest woman they knew. They said in time she would heal. She would build another life. And God didn’t give you more than you could handle. People were idiots. They had no idea how in her head she raged. She howled, and shrieked, and wailed...and begged, and pleaded for mercy. All day. All night. Every day. Every night.