Royce Kennedy believes he has the town of Rusty Knob and its citizens in the palm of his hand. For altruistic reasons, of course. A real man takes care of his land and the people on it, whether they want to accept the help or not.
After fostering an orphan, adopting underprivileged kids, creating businesses to bring jobs back to the area, donating his time, energy, and money by founding the Community Growth: Life Skills Center, people are beginning to wonder if the man is running a campaign to earn the status of a saint.
Royce’s family is getting frustrated by idly watching their patriarch spread himself too thin, because he won’t allow them to shoulder his burdens or their own. Drastic measures are taken before the man can see reason. When the dust finally settles, Royce realizes he’s been taking care of everyone but himself.
But there’s a problem with sorting out your issues, with the clarity of mind, you can’t hide from the good, bad, and downright filthy secrets buried in the depths of your past.
With dark, violent, depraved skeletons, Rusty Knob’s patriarch isn’t as pure of soul as he appears to be. Will he finally surrender and accept the help to buff the tarnish away?
Just because it’s the moral thing to do, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for you.
Book 2
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
We all suffer the consequences of our actions, but sometimes they take nine years to catch up with us.
I reach down for the wastebasket, and then make my way to my attached bathroom. “Dad?” Bren startles the hell out of me. I turn slowly toward my open bedroom door, knowing I had shut it when I’d gone to sleep.
“Brennan?” I can’t look my son in the eye. I stare down guiltily at the puke splattering the inside of the chrome can clutched in my fingertips. “Did I oversleep?”
“No,” is all he says. He doesn’t move. I doubt he breathes.
I try again, eyes now looking through the trashcan but seeing nothing. “Did I shout in my sleep?”
Bren’s, “No,” has my eyes flicking up to finally meet his. My son looks exactly like me, finally filling out in the chest, but it’s his mother staring back at me with unflinching sincerity and concern. His voice softens into a whisper. “I just felt it.” His curled fists clench at his sides.
“I’m fine,” I mutter lamely, feeling like the child. Bren doesn’t blink. He looks deep inside of me, as if he already knows my dark secrets and he’s okay with the vileness he sees because I’m his dad.
Bren steps forward, approaching me cautiously. “No, you’re not. You’re getting worse while everybody is getting better. Wynn might get sick once a week, but I hear you in here every morning upchucking your guts. Now you barely look at me.”
“I…” My eyes seek out the corners of my bedroom, proving my son’s suspicions right. “I’m fixin’ to get ready for the day.” I take a few steps. “I’ll meet you down at breakfast.”
I get as far as the bathroom door before Bren’s, “Dad?” stops me.
I wait. My son tracks across the carpeting with silent footfalls. “I was there, remember?”
Forehead pressed against the cool door, I close my eyes in defeat. “I remember. You saved Willa’s and my life, and neither of us will ever be able to repay you that debt.”
I huff a laugh at the irony. I was branded a hero when I was the coward. My son must hate me more and more every single time one of the townsfolk brings up how I saved the day. Bren is the hero who called 9-1-1 to save Willa and me while protecting Hayden and Hayley. I’m just thankful he never opened the twins’ bedroom door like I’d ordered.
“I don’t want a payment.” Bren’s hand settles between my shoulders. “I want you to look me in the eye. Willa’s able to now, but you seem to have lost the ability. I know what happened; I was there.”
Unable to answer him, I just press into Bren’s touch. Tears slip free to carve across my cheekbones. “I can’t look you in the eye because you’ll see the truth, and I’m ashamed. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, so much like your mother.”
“I remember Mom,” Bren says fondly. He releases a few chuckles. “I’m old enough to remember she was a yeller and far from perfect. Some things Willa and Penny do remind me of Mom, so don’t go sanctifying her when she was only human.” Laughing darkly, “I’m not that great, either. I’m about to join the family business in mistake making.”
“Not true… aside from your lack of boundaries when it comes to privacy,” I mutter wryly. “I know you think I’ve tried to replace you with Kade, and then Wynn, but that’s not it. You were my first born, and I want to be the father for you that mine was for me, and I’m terrified you’ll see that’s a bullshit lie.”
“I love you, Daddy.” My son rests his forehead between my shoulders, and then his arms curl around my waist to hug me from behind. Then he cuts me off at the knees. “I opened the door.” We all suffer the consequences of our actions, but sometimes they take nine years to catch up with us.
I reach down for the wastebasket, and then make my way to my attached bathroom. “Dad?” Bren startles the hell out of me. I turn slowly toward my open bedroom door, knowing I had shut it when I’d gone to sleep.
“Brennan?” I can’t look my son in the eye. I stare down guiltily at the puke splattering the inside of the chrome can clutched in my fingertips. “Did I oversleep?”
“No,” is all he says. He doesn’t move. I doubt he breathes.
I try again, eyes now looking through the trashcan but seeing nothing. “Did I shout in my sleep?”
Bren’s, “No,” has my eyes flicking up to finally meet his. My son looks exactly like me, finally filling out in the chest, but it’s his mother staring back at me with unflinching sincerity and concern. His voice softens into a whisper. “I just felt it.” His curled fists clench at his sides.
“I’m fine,” I mutter lamely, feeling like the child. Bren doesn’t blink. He looks deep inside of me, as if he already knows my dark secrets and he’s okay with the vileness he sees because I’m his dad.
Bren steps forward, approaching me cautiously. “No, you’re not. You’re getting worse while everybody is getting better. Wynn might get sick once a week, but I hear you in here every morning upchucking your guts. Now you barely look at me.”
“I…” My eyes seek out the corners of my bedroom, proving my son’s suspicions right. “I’m fixin’ to get ready for the day.” I take a few steps. “I’ll meet you down at breakfast.”
I get as far as the bathroom door before Bren’s, “Dad?” stops me.
I wait.
My son tracks across the carpeting with silent footfalls. “I was there, remember?”
Forehead pressed against the cool door, I close my eyes in defeat. “I remember. You saved Willa’s and my life, and neither of us will ever be able to repay you that debt.”
I huff a laugh at the irony. I was branded a hero when I was the coward. My son must hate me more and more every single time one of the townsfolk brings up how I saved the day. Bren is the hero who called 9-1-1 to save Willa and me while protecting Hayden and Hayley. I’m just thankful he never opened the twins’ bedroom door like I’d ordered.
“I don’t want a payment.” Bren’s hand settles between my shoulders. “I want you to look me in the eye. Willa’s able to now, but you seem to have lost the ability. I know what happened; I was there.”
Unable to answer him, I just press into Bren’s touch. Tears slip free to carve across my cheekbones. “I can’t look you in the eye because you’ll see the truth, and I’m ashamed. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, so much like your mother.”
“I remember Mom,” Bren says fondly. He releases a few chuckles. “I’m old enough to remember she was a yeller and far from perfect. Some things Willa and Penny do remind me of Mom, so don’t go sanctifying her when she was only human.” Laughing darkly, “I’m not that great, either. I’m about to join the family business in mistake making.”
“Not true… aside from your lack of boundaries when it comes to privacy,” I mutter wryly. “I know you think I’ve tried to replace you with Kade, and then Wynn, but that’s not it. You were my first born, and I want to be the father for you that mine was for me, and I’m terrified you’ll see that’s a bullshit lie.”
“I love you, Daddy.” My son rests his forehead between my shoulders, and then his arms curl around my waist to hug me from behind. Then he cuts me off at the knees. “I opened the door.”
Also Available in the Rusty Knob Series
Book 1
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
Erica Chilson does not write in the 3rd person, wanting her readers to be her characters. Therefore, writing a bio about herself, is uncomfortable in the extreme.
Born, raised, and here to stay, the Wicked Writer is a stump-jumper, a ridge-runner. Hailing from North Central Pennsylvania, directly on the New York State border; she loves the changes in seasons, the humid air, all the mountainous forest, and the gloomy atmosphere.
Introverted, but not socially awkward, Erica prides herself on thinking first and filtering her speech. There are days she doesn’t speak at all. If it wasn’t for the fact that she lives with her parents, giving her a sense of reality, she would be a hermit, where the delivery man finds her months after expiration.
Reading was an escape, a way to leave a not-so pleasant reality behind. Reading lent Erica the courage she gathered from the characters between the pages to long for a different life. Writing was an instrument of change, evolving Erica into the woman she is today- a better, more mature, more at peace thinker.
Erica has a wicked mind, one she pours out into her creations. Her filter doesn’t allow all of it to erupt, much to her relief. Sarcastic, with a very dark, perverse sense of humor, Erica puts a bit of herself into every character she writes.
Connect with Erica
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Website ~ Goodreads
Google+ ~ Pinterest ~ tsū
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Hosted by
After fostering an orphan, adopting underprivileged kids, creating businesses to bring jobs back to the area, donating his time, energy, and money by founding the Community Growth: Life Skills Center, people are beginning to wonder if the man is running a campaign to earn the status of a saint.
Royce’s family is getting frustrated by idly watching their patriarch spread himself too thin, because he won’t allow them to shoulder his burdens or their own. Drastic measures are taken before the man can see reason. When the dust finally settles, Royce realizes he’s been taking care of everyone but himself.
But there’s a problem with sorting out your issues, with the clarity of mind, you can’t hide from the good, bad, and downright filthy secrets buried in the depths of your past.
With dark, violent, depraved skeletons, Rusty Knob’s patriarch isn’t as pure of soul as he appears to be. Will he finally surrender and accept the help to buff the tarnish away?
Just because it’s the moral thing to do, doesn’t mean it’s the right thing for you.
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
Julie's 5 Star Review
Thank you! Thank you, Ms. Chilson for another fabulous look into to your creative mind.
This story takes place in the Rusty Knob. A town stricken with a fallen economy and failing businesses. A town where most people would try to leave or never attempt to even enter.
One man tries to save it all.
Royce.
While dealing with his own demons and secrets he tries to save a town from total collapse. Having dreams of building it back to a thriving community, many won't support him because they are too proud to say they need help or enjoy taking the money from others because they are unable to find solutions to simple problems. He wants his family to live in a place they can be proud of.
Family.
This family has got to be one of the most dysfunctional families I have ever read about. They are all freaking bananas. But they all have been dealt with a crap life. Royce tries to fix them all. Doing the best he can with the life he was given he tries. He tries his hardest.
How much can a man take?
How much of himself must he sacrifice to finally be happy?
Who will stand by him when he falls?
Will any one pick him up?
And when they do what will be left?
Erica has such a way with words that you feel like you are there.
I felt like I was in the stands looking at the rainbow gown. I laughed like an idiot. I felt like I was in the room with Royce when he freed himself of his biggest fear. His pain and fear was felt in my heart.
Erica, if there is anything you ever do, one should be to never stop writing these beautifully twisted tales!
We all suffer the consequences of our actions, but sometimes they take nine years to catch up with us.
I reach down for the wastebasket, and then make my way to my attached bathroom. “Dad?” Bren startles the hell out of me. I turn slowly toward my open bedroom door, knowing I had shut it when I’d gone to sleep.
“Brennan?” I can’t look my son in the eye. I stare down guiltily at the puke splattering the inside of the chrome can clutched in my fingertips. “Did I oversleep?”
“No,” is all he says. He doesn’t move. I doubt he breathes.
I try again, eyes now looking through the trashcan but seeing nothing. “Did I shout in my sleep?”
Bren’s, “No,” has my eyes flicking up to finally meet his. My son looks exactly like me, finally filling out in the chest, but it’s his mother staring back at me with unflinching sincerity and concern. His voice softens into a whisper. “I just felt it.” His curled fists clench at his sides.
“I’m fine,” I mutter lamely, feeling like the child. Bren doesn’t blink. He looks deep inside of me, as if he already knows my dark secrets and he’s okay with the vileness he sees because I’m his dad.
Bren steps forward, approaching me cautiously. “No, you’re not. You’re getting worse while everybody is getting better. Wynn might get sick once a week, but I hear you in here every morning upchucking your guts. Now you barely look at me.”
“I…” My eyes seek out the corners of my bedroom, proving my son’s suspicions right. “I’m fixin’ to get ready for the day.” I take a few steps. “I’ll meet you down at breakfast.”
I get as far as the bathroom door before Bren’s, “Dad?” stops me.
I wait. My son tracks across the carpeting with silent footfalls. “I was there, remember?”
Forehead pressed against the cool door, I close my eyes in defeat. “I remember. You saved Willa’s and my life, and neither of us will ever be able to repay you that debt.”
I huff a laugh at the irony. I was branded a hero when I was the coward. My son must hate me more and more every single time one of the townsfolk brings up how I saved the day. Bren is the hero who called 9-1-1 to save Willa and me while protecting Hayden and Hayley. I’m just thankful he never opened the twins’ bedroom door like I’d ordered.
“I don’t want a payment.” Bren’s hand settles between my shoulders. “I want you to look me in the eye. Willa’s able to now, but you seem to have lost the ability. I know what happened; I was there.”
Unable to answer him, I just press into Bren’s touch. Tears slip free to carve across my cheekbones. “I can’t look you in the eye because you’ll see the truth, and I’m ashamed. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, so much like your mother.”
“I remember Mom,” Bren says fondly. He releases a few chuckles. “I’m old enough to remember she was a yeller and far from perfect. Some things Willa and Penny do remind me of Mom, so don’t go sanctifying her when she was only human.” Laughing darkly, “I’m not that great, either. I’m about to join the family business in mistake making.”
“Not true… aside from your lack of boundaries when it comes to privacy,” I mutter wryly. “I know you think I’ve tried to replace you with Kade, and then Wynn, but that’s not it. You were my first born, and I want to be the father for you that mine was for me, and I’m terrified you’ll see that’s a bullshit lie.”
“I love you, Daddy.” My son rests his forehead between my shoulders, and then his arms curl around my waist to hug me from behind. Then he cuts me off at the knees. “I opened the door.” We all suffer the consequences of our actions, but sometimes they take nine years to catch up with us.
I reach down for the wastebasket, and then make my way to my attached bathroom. “Dad?” Bren startles the hell out of me. I turn slowly toward my open bedroom door, knowing I had shut it when I’d gone to sleep.
“Brennan?” I can’t look my son in the eye. I stare down guiltily at the puke splattering the inside of the chrome can clutched in my fingertips. “Did I oversleep?”
“No,” is all he says. He doesn’t move. I doubt he breathes.
I try again, eyes now looking through the trashcan but seeing nothing. “Did I shout in my sleep?”
Bren’s, “No,” has my eyes flicking up to finally meet his. My son looks exactly like me, finally filling out in the chest, but it’s his mother staring back at me with unflinching sincerity and concern. His voice softens into a whisper. “I just felt it.” His curled fists clench at his sides.
“I’m fine,” I mutter lamely, feeling like the child. Bren doesn’t blink. He looks deep inside of me, as if he already knows my dark secrets and he’s okay with the vileness he sees because I’m his dad.
Bren steps forward, approaching me cautiously. “No, you’re not. You’re getting worse while everybody is getting better. Wynn might get sick once a week, but I hear you in here every morning upchucking your guts. Now you barely look at me.”
“I…” My eyes seek out the corners of my bedroom, proving my son’s suspicions right. “I’m fixin’ to get ready for the day.” I take a few steps. “I’ll meet you down at breakfast.”
I get as far as the bathroom door before Bren’s, “Dad?” stops me.
I wait.
My son tracks across the carpeting with silent footfalls. “I was there, remember?”
Forehead pressed against the cool door, I close my eyes in defeat. “I remember. You saved Willa’s and my life, and neither of us will ever be able to repay you that debt.”
I huff a laugh at the irony. I was branded a hero when I was the coward. My son must hate me more and more every single time one of the townsfolk brings up how I saved the day. Bren is the hero who called 9-1-1 to save Willa and me while protecting Hayden and Hayley. I’m just thankful he never opened the twins’ bedroom door like I’d ordered.
“I don’t want a payment.” Bren’s hand settles between my shoulders. “I want you to look me in the eye. Willa’s able to now, but you seem to have lost the ability. I know what happened; I was there.”
Unable to answer him, I just press into Bren’s touch. Tears slip free to carve across my cheekbones. “I can’t look you in the eye because you’ll see the truth, and I’m ashamed. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, so much like your mother.”
“I remember Mom,” Bren says fondly. He releases a few chuckles. “I’m old enough to remember she was a yeller and far from perfect. Some things Willa and Penny do remind me of Mom, so don’t go sanctifying her when she was only human.” Laughing darkly, “I’m not that great, either. I’m about to join the family business in mistake making.”
“Not true… aside from your lack of boundaries when it comes to privacy,” I mutter wryly. “I know you think I’ve tried to replace you with Kade, and then Wynn, but that’s not it. You were my first born, and I want to be the father for you that mine was for me, and I’m terrified you’ll see that’s a bullshit lie.”
“I love you, Daddy.” My son rests his forehead between my shoulders, and then his arms curl around my waist to hug me from behind. Then he cuts me off at the knees. “I opened the door.”
Also Available in the Rusty Knob Series
Buy Links
Amazon US ~ Amazon UK ~ Amazon Au ~ Amazon Ca
Erica Chilson does not write in the 3rd person, wanting her readers to be her characters. Therefore, writing a bio about herself, is uncomfortable in the extreme.
Born, raised, and here to stay, the Wicked Writer is a stump-jumper, a ridge-runner. Hailing from North Central Pennsylvania, directly on the New York State border; she loves the changes in seasons, the humid air, all the mountainous forest, and the gloomy atmosphere.
Introverted, but not socially awkward, Erica prides herself on thinking first and filtering her speech. There are days she doesn’t speak at all. If it wasn’t for the fact that she lives with her parents, giving her a sense of reality, she would be a hermit, where the delivery man finds her months after expiration.
Reading was an escape, a way to leave a not-so pleasant reality behind. Reading lent Erica the courage she gathered from the characters between the pages to long for a different life. Writing was an instrument of change, evolving Erica into the woman she is today- a better, more mature, more at peace thinker.
Erica has a wicked mind, one she pours out into her creations. Her filter doesn’t allow all of it to erupt, much to her relief. Sarcastic, with a very dark, perverse sense of humor, Erica puts a bit of herself into every character she writes.
Connect with Erica
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Website ~ Goodreads
Google+ ~ Pinterest ~ tsū
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Hosted by
Awesome Review!!! Thanks for hosting Tarnished.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant book
ReplyDeleteHello, my Twisted Sisters. Thanks for hosting a stop on Tarnished's blog tour, & especially for that wicked review. :-*
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love Erica's creative mind and the characers come alive on the pages.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love Erica's creative mind and the characers come alive on the pages.
ReplyDeleteGreat review. loved the book too
ReplyDelete