I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A father struggling with depression and separation must find himself in author Mark Woodley’s “Don’t Die Dad.”
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The Synopsis
Don’t Die Dad
A Separated Father’s Journey from Devastation to Peace and Acceptance
🔥 A raw, powerful memoir of fatherhood lost—and the relentless fight to rebuild a life worth living.
Ten years after separation tore his family apart and ripped him from daily life with his children, one father is drowning in silence—grieving, addicted, unmoored.
With nothing left but a pair of hiking boots and a sliver of hope, he sets off on a three-day solo trek through New Zealand’s Southern Alps. What begins as an escape becomes a reckoning—with his past, his pain, and the man he’s trying to become.
What you’ll find inside:
🛑 Addiction, anger, and the silent suffering of separated dads
👣 A decade-long transformation through nature, therapy, and soul-searching
💔 Honest reflections on love, loss, fatherhood, and identity
🌄 A mountain hike that mirrors the climb back to self
💡 Hard-won insights into peace, resilience, and letting go
For separated fathers.
For men told to “be strong” and “move on.”
For anyone who needs proof that healing is possible.
This isn’t just a memoir. It’s a lifeline.
If you’ve ever felt broken, forgotten, or lost in the dark—this book is for you.
The Review
Immediately, I was struck by the author’s honesty and the visceral depth of their dive into their most painful and personal moments. The book serves not as an educational or step-by-step guide for any father or parent facing separation or divorce for the first time, but instead serves as a beacon to those living that reality that, through that struggle, perseverance is possible. The raw emotions and experiences the author brought to life on the page were both relatable and heartbreaking to read. They allowed readers who have lived through similar experiences to have their hearts laid bare on the page.
The balance the author found between storytelling with their experiences both in the past and on that transformational hike, and the lessons and experiences that made that trip so vital to their future, made this a compelling read. The relatively steady pacing of the book’s narrative elements allowed readers the time to connect to the author’s message. What stood out was how the author didn’t spend time disparaging their ex-spouse. The author was able to explore the emotional highs and lows of this journey without vilifying the other parent in this equation, and the self-reflective nature of both of their actions made this feel truly balanced.
The Verdict
Heartfelt, emotional, and captivating, author Mark Woodley’s “Don’t Die Dad” is a must-read nonfiction memoir. The honesty and the imagery the author infused into their writing allowed the reader to connect to the emotional elements of the author’s life, and yet still kept the reader engaged in the story of their life as well. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
Mark Woodley – Father, Author, Entrepreneur, Advocate and Athlete
Mark Woodley is an Australian father, author, entrepreneur, GPS windsurfing competitor, and advocate for the rights and wellbeing of separated fathers. His memoir, Don’t Die Dad: A Separated Father’s Journey from Devastation to Peace and Acceptance, resonates deeply with men navigating the collapse of family, identity, and connection.
Mark’s story of fatherhood began like many—with joy and the dream of raising his children in a loving home. That dream shattered with a single text message, launching him into the chaos of legal conflict, emotional disconnection, and the grief of part-time parenting. Over the next ten years, he faced a collapse of self, a loss of purpose, and long stretches of silence from his children.
A self-employed professional in the health and nutrition industry and previous the cosmetic industry and advertising industry, Mark has spent over 30 years working with a variety of people and corporations. But business success couldn’t shield him from the emotional toll of separation. As his internal world crumbled, he returned to a teenage passion.
Windsurfing became his lifeline—restoring presence, physical resilience, and emotional strength. He went on to become a GPS Windsurfing Champion, proving his tenacity and reminding him that healing often begins with physical motion.
But the deepest transformation came through facing the shadows within: childhood trauma, addictions, emotional shutdown, and the ache of losing daily contact with his children. His journey through despair, recovery, and hard-earned clarity is captured in Don’t Die Dad, written over three symbolic days of hiking through New Zealand’s Southern Alps—a mirror to his decade of emotional reckoning.
Today, Mark is the founder of Separated Fathers Recovery, which hosts an online course: Always Dad: The Recovery Accelerator for Separated Fathers, a structured course grounded in lived experience, empathy, and growth.
Through his work, Mark champions legal reform, mental health support, and greater understanding of the father-child bond after separation. He looks to speak regularly on podcasts and panels about male vulnerability, rebuilding after crisis, and showing up with dignity—even when love is met with silence.
Mark lives in Perth, Western Australia and travels back to New Zealand regularly where Don’t Die Dad was written. He remains a present, committed father and a qualified voice for change—proof that from devastation, peace and acceptance is possible.
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
A woman seeking to open up her own speakeasy-style bar and restaurant must contend with feelings for a longtime friend as complications arise in author Taj McCoy’s “The Dating Prohibition.”
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The Synopsis
In this spicy new rom-com, an ambitious entrepreneur working to get her speakeasy supper club off the ground is pushed off balance when her childhood crush turns up, hotter than ever–– then tells her she’s off-limits.
Now that Kendra’s returned home, she can’t help feeling like a kid again—back in her big brother’s shadow, trying to get her restaurant off the ground while his new venture is flying high right out the gate. It doesn’t help that everyone refuses to stop calling her Keke, the childhood nickname she loathes.
The only bright spot is her longtime crush BJ. He’s been her big brother’s best friend for most of her life, and he’s always been that cool, chill guy who was easy to talk to and made her laugh. Now he’s looking at her like she’s all grown up, and there’s nothing childish about the chemistry brewing between them. Even better, he takes her dreams seriously, and he’s ready to help her make her supper club a reality.
But then BJ extinguishes the sparks flying between them, insisting nothing romantic can ever happen because she’s “off limits.” As her investors fall through and her best chance at fulfilling her professional dreams points toward leaving home again for a fresh start, will BJ be ready for love before Kendra moves on? Or will he sweep her off her feet when she least expects it?
The Review
The balance of spicy romance and compelling character development was evident from the get-go of this stellar rom-com. The will-they/won’t-they tropes that went into this multicultural romance were so passionately written and kept readers invested in the narrative from the start. The story featured a strong family dynamic, both positive and negative. The struggle for protagonist Kendra to step out of her big brother’s shadow and the lack of support from other members of her family were balanced with the support of her cousin, her brother and his wife, and other close friends, and the way this played into both her professional and personal aspirations was both relatable and engaging.
The heat between BJ and Kendra was palpable to be sure, and yet the divide that kept them apart (BJ’s struggle to move on) spoke to the impact grief and loss can have on a person, and how it can impact relationships as a whole. Often, the ear and the idea of losing someone close to us again can drive us to push those away who could be good for us, and the author perfectly illustrated that in the rich dynamic between these two characters. The history and cultural explorations of both the restaurants the characters worked in and aspired to open, as well as the themes the restaurants embodied, added depth to this narrative.
The Verdict
Heartfelt, spicy, and entertaining, author Taj McCoy’s “The Dating Prohibition” is a must-read rom-com. The twists and turns in the story, the yearning and the need these characters feel for one another, and the dynamic culture that was brought into the narrative will resonate with so many readers as the climactic final chapter comes together. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
Rating: 10/10
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About the Author
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Oakland-born law grad Taj McCoy is committed to championing stories that include Black and multiracial women of color, plus-size protagonists, Black love, Black joy, and strong senses of sisterhood and familial bonds. Taj started writing as a small child, enjoying her first publications in elementary school. When she’s not writing, Taj may be on Twitter boosting other marginalized writers, practicing yoga, sharing recipes, or cooking private supper club meals for close friends.
Snort! Kendra jolted awake, her face pressed against the cool window shade. She forced a cough to clear her throat, her cheeks coloring as she realized she’d been snoring. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone in the neighboring seats had heard, and she rushed to wipe the side of her mouth, checking for drool. No one in the row in front of her seemed to have noticed anything, and she was thankful that most of the first- class passengers were wearing noise-canceling headphones and watching in-flight movies.
Pull yourself together, girl. Taking a deep breath, she covered her face with the palms of her hands, willing herself awake.
The sweet woman next to her patted her arm with a chuckle. “You must have been tired, dear. You missed the meal and everything!”
Thank god I didn’t have to pay for this upgrade. Kendra yawned and nodded in agreement. “I’ve traveled quite a bit in the past two weeks. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.” I could honestly go back to sleep right now.
“Are you heading home?”
Home.
She smiled tightly. “Yeah, something like that.” Truth was, she’d been a tumbleweed for the past two years. Home was wherever she decided to rest her head, though she’d been craving a place to plant her roots—something she hadn’t been sure she’d ever do when she left. And she never fathomed that she’d have a desire to return to the US to do so.
A chime sounded before a flight attendant spoke over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our de- scent into Reagan Washington National Airport. As we pre- pare for landing, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright and locked position. Your lap- tops should be put away and . . .”
Kendra offered a small smile to her neighbor. “Are you returning home?”
The woman shook her head, the scent of her gourmand perfume wafting over Kendra in waves of vanilla and toffee. “My daughter’s. She’s going to be induced next week. My fourth grandbaby!” She grinned with pride and rummaged through her purse, which she cradled in her lap protectively.
“Aw, congratulations! That’s so exciting.” A cell phone was shoved in her face, showing three smiling kids, two missing their front teeth. “They’re very cute.”
Once they landed and arrived at the gate, Kendra helped her row mate with her bag and headed toward baggage claim as her phone pinged with a text message.
Lani: Is you here yet?? Inquiring minds (aka your nosy brother and your parents) want to know . . .
Kendra: The eagle has landed.
Lani: Tuh! I know you haven’t returned from Gulliver’s travels with a big ass head SMH. Make sure you look like somethin before you waltz your ass up in here . . .
She rolled her eyes and sent her cousin a middle finger emoji before tucking her phone into her pocket. Returning home hit different now that Kendra was deemed a failure—it felt like tucking tail and admitting defeat after desperately trying to carve an uncharted path with nothing but hope and a blunt instrument. Whether anyone would admit it, the hushed tones of the family whisper network turned up the volume on every inadequacy and failed attempt, and once again the grumblings shone a spotlight directly onto Kendra. Always the fucking black sheep.
Kendra sighed, muttering to herself as she approached her fifth red light in a row. “Now they’ll get to harp on the fact that I’m late.” She glanced at the clock on her dashboard and shook her head with annoyance.
Having run home just long enough to drop off her suit- case and pick up her car, she’d rushed back out before her family started blowing up her phone. DC traffic was only predictable in that it was inevitable, and finding parking was next to impossible. Sometimes, the search for parking took as long as the commute. That never stopped Kendra from wanting to drive—yes, one could take the Metro or ride- share to a destination, but that meant having to depend on too many outside variables when she was ready to leave— she was too much of a control freak to depend on the time- liness of others, and when she wanted to go, she wanted to go. Waiting on others to do what she was more than capable of doing herself drove her up the wall. Being the baby in the family didn’t mean that she was any less capable than Big Bro.
Being away from home for two years left her second- guessing directions and she cursed under her breath as she missed her exit from the same traffic circle twice. At some point, people enjoying the park would begin to think she was casing the neighborhood. Kendra bit her lip, her eyes widen- ing as a car sped into the lane to her right as she attempted to maneuver over to catch the exit on her third try. She slid into the lane behind the Prius that had come out of nowhere and finally made the right turn out of the roundabout from hell.
Kendra zipped through the congestion on Rhode Island Avenue, having dropped all of her belongings off at the English basement apartment below her brother’s row house. The family golden boy. Logan had stopped offering the basement as a vacation rental when Kendra announced her return to town, and she’d eagerly agreed to help launch his new business for a month or two of free rent. Her best friend and cousin’s name appeared on the center console screen of Kendra’s Audi Q3, and she pressed a button on her steering wheel to answer her phone via the car’s Bluetooth system as she stopped at a traffic light. “Hey, girl, hey!”
“You’re late, you know,” Lani quipped in a hushed tone, evoking an immediate eye roll out of Kendra. “Everyone’s waiting for you to make an appearance! Logan said he hasn’t even seen you yet.”
“Yeah, that’s the beauty of smart locks—there’s no longer a need for me to knock on Logan’s front door and ask for a key to his basement. It’s bad enough that the prodigal child has to return and immediately ask her big brother for help for the umpteenth time.” Kendra chewed on her bottom lip, willing her face to express less of her reluctance to come back to the DMV area. It wasn’t that she didn’t love DC—she did—it was just that she was always hidden by Logan’s shadow. It wasn’t his fault, and Kendra looked up to Big Bro for everything he was able to accomplish, but sometimes his success sucked up all of the oxygen in the room.
“Now, don’t be dramatic, Keke,” Lani chided in her sing- songy voice.
Kendra bristled at her childhood nickname. “And remind me again why you couldn’t just let me come and stay at your place? You know that I’m not above bumming it on a couch.”
Lani tsked nonchalantly. “Come on, girl, no one should be subjected to that much sex. Can’t have you telling my aunt and uncle about my sexcapades. Your mom already thinks I’m too fast anyway.”
Kendra smirked. You are. “She already knows you’re fast, heffa.”
“You told her?!” Lani’s hushed growl made Kendra cackle. “You really don’t remember trying to sneak a boy into our house when you were staying with us for spring break?” She’d been grounded for the rest of high school and subjected to regular lectures about the birds and the bees. Auntie Mack refused to be a grandmother early, so she made herself an impactful prophylactic. Logan and all the boy cousins were tasked with looking out for Lani and Kendra, as if the lot weren’t all
pussy-whipped themselves.
“Uh, that was a teenage mistake. Does Auntie Al think I’m fast too? You haven’t told her anything recent, right?” Lani’s whispering was more of an exasperated shout with the volume turned down. “If she thinks I’m up to anything, she’ll tell my mom, and then I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Girl, your mom has known since you started wearing all that eyeliner in middle school,” Kendra chuckled. “And that mulberry lipstick? You thought you were serving. You’d hit ’em with the duck lips and hands on your hips anytime some- one tried to take a picture.”
Lani groaned. “Shut up, there’s a difference between duck lips and a smize. And thought? Bitch, I was stuntin’ on them hos.”
Kendra could practically hear the hair flip on the other side
of the line. “Mmmkay, well, back to what I was saying. I could be at your place hearing sex-foolery, but instead I’m up under Logan . . . again.” Thankfully there was a main floor between Kendra’s unit and her brother’s bedroom, so she was absolved from having to hear his sexcapades, but still.
“Well, but it’s only temporary, and besides, the savings is
good for you while you’re still in the planning stages of opening up your own spot.”
“Why must you be reasonable?” Kendra whined. Every- thing Lani said was true, but the closer she got to the bistro location that Logan and his wife, Shonda, were opening together, the more Kendra’s stomach performed a Simone Biles– level floor exercise—one of those extra good ones that would eventually be named after her because no one else could perfect it the way she could.
“One of us has to be reasonable, so suck it up, buttercup. Now, what’s your ETA?” Lani was resistant to Kendra’s shit— she had a no-nonsense approach to pretty much everything and didn’t believe in coddling unless she needed it herself. It didn’t help that, as cousins born two weeks apart, they’d been best friends since they shared a playpen. Lani knew all of Kendra’s tactics.
“I’m about to park. Give me a minute or two to gather myself, and then I’ll be in.” Well, maybe five minutes.
“Bet. Oh, and be careful when you walk in here, Keke—
Stanley just waxed the floors.”
“Noted.” Kendra steered her car into the first open parking spot. “I’ll be in there in a few.”
“’Kay, bye.”
The phone disconnected, and Kendra took a deep breath. What is awaiting me inside? She cursed herself for not asking who all would be present to help put the finishing touches on the restaurant before its opening in a few days. As she closed her eyes to meditate, her phone rang again. She jabbed at the button on her steering wheel. “We literally just hung up, Lani.”
“Well, don’t sit out in your car forever either. Someone already mentioned that they saw you pull up.”
Kendra rolled her eyes, kissing her teeth. “Get off my phone, ma’am. I need a sec.” Leave me be!
Lani dropped her voice to a gruff whisper. “Bring yo’ ass
in here, ho. A certain someone been askin’ about you.” She drew out the last word teasingly. “Take a fuckin’ hint,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
Kendra’s face scrunched up as her head tilted, her mind racing to run through the list of everyone she expected to be present in these final days of prep before the big launch. “Who?”
“Mr. Big and Sexy, the chocolate drop himself.”
Huh? Kendra blew out a breath loudly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Cousin, that description applies to half of the brothas in the DMV. Can you be more specific?”
“If you don’t carry your behind on You know what?
We don’t have time for this.” Lani’s hushed tone changed to a loud call. “Hey, look, y’all. I think that’s Keke’s car right there!” Voices in the background converged into a jumble drowned out by a peal of villainous laughter.
I’m gonna kill her. “Lani!” Kendra snapped as the call disconnected. So much for a moment of peace. She inhaled deeply, exhaling through her mouth before wiping the scowl from her face and climbing out of the car into a light breeze that made her pull her coat lapels closer to her neck. She flung her tote bag over her shoulder as she crossed the narrow side street to enter the front door of the brightly lit restaurant with a giant banner and the word PALATE set between a set of cutlery. “Here we go,” she muttered.
As Kendra stepped onto a narrow welcome mat just inside the glass door, which had been propped open to allow in the sharp almost-spring air, the scents of fresh paint and oranges wafted toward her. She peered around the dining room in search of the chocolate drop Lani was hinting about, making eye contact with her brother, Logan, and her sister-in-law, Shonda, whose face brightened as she headed toward the end of the bar to show some love. “Hey, you made it!”
“Yeah, I . . . whoa shit!” Kendra took one step forward and slipped, fully expecting to be met with the well-polished lacquered hardwood when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and righted her, the warmth of a large hand imprinting the small of her back as her legs wobbled. “Right, careful with the floors . . . Thanks,” she laughed with embarrassment.
“Been a long time, Kenny,” a gravelly baritone voice caused her head to jerk upward. His sturdy six-foot frame drew closer, holding her against his hip so that she could steady herself. The scents of smoky oud and tobacco emanated from his skin. Kendra gulped as her eyes widened. Damn, he got even finer.
BJ Stephens glowered at her curiously, the same way he had when they were teenagers, and Kendra’s cheeks warmed as she took in his smooth umber skin. She’d never seen him in jeans and work boots before, but the look suited him.
“Hey, B, long time. How you been?” She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as his wound around her waist. As she turned her head to peck his cheek, he moved slightly and her lips landed at the angle of his jaw, just below his ear, his closely-groomed beard soft against her skin. Her eyes bulged as she stepped back, unsure whether he’d think she tried to kiss his neck on purpose. Clumsy and awkward . . . we’re off to a great start. She made space between them, willing her cheeks not to broadcast her embarrassment. She cleared her throat before looking up at him.
BJ’s dark, spectacled eyes trained on her, his expression unreadable. “Good. But you’re the one who’s been gone. How were your travels? Last I heard, you were cooking your way through Asia and Europe.”
Kendra beamed, nodding. “I loved every minute of it. Ap- prenticed under a few chefs, caught up with a few cousins when I hit Thailand and the Philippines. Collected a ton of cooking techniques and recipes. Made some new friends and gave a few lessons on Creole cooking.”
“You didn’t make new friends at the expense of old ones, I hope.” The corners of his mouth twitched, drawing Kendra’s attention to his full lips. It always took a lot to make BJ smile. A laugh was even more rare but craveable. As long as Kendra had known her brother’s best friend, she never was good at reading him. Once in a while, he’d allow his face to show his playfulness, but most of the time, his underwhelmed, almost gruff expression remained constant. Joy, pain—even annoyance—were less common expressions than the general grumpy-observer vibe he gave off. But behind the prickly mask was an intelligent, loyal, good human who often put others before himself.
“Never that,” she laughed. They’d known each other for over two decades—ever since her family had relocated from New Orleans to the nation’s capital. Kendra had been in middle school, and Logan was just about to start high school. He met BJ his first day of classes, and they became fast friends after almost coming to blows over the attentions of the same girl. Logan had brought BJ home for some of Momma’s cooking to make amends, and the rest was history—Momma won over many hearts with her Creole family recipes, and BJ’s was no exception. Logan had been lucky. Truth be told, BJ would have whooped his ass.
BJ was a gym rat to the core, but as focused as he was on macros to build muscle mass, he made two exceptions without question: Momma’s cookin’ and good whiskey. As he solidified his place within the family’s inner circle, he’d always been the one to mediate Kendra’s arguments with her brother—a dependable voice of reason who wasn’t quick to pick sides.
Kendra and Logan never fought physically—Momma would never allow that—but Kendra would cut to the white meat with her words, and when she went low, Logan went straight to the depths of hell. “You still enjoying the professor life? I heard you were awarded tenure while I was out of the country. Congratulations are in order! I was really excited to hear the news. You’ve worked so hard to get to this place.”
His head bobbed as he smoothed a hand over his facial hair. The top half of his dark, shoulder-length locs were twisted and tied back away from his face as he regarded her intently. “Thanks! Yeah, it’s been good so far, but I’m on sabbatical this semester. I need to do some research for my next book proposal.”
BJ taught courses on historic preservation, focusing on heritage conservation, architectural history and preservation, urban planning, and adaptive reuse. Most of it went over Ken- dra’s head, but she loved that he focused a good amount of his work on Black heritage tourism. The way that he highlighted the importance of transforming abandoned sites to frame and highlight pivotal points in history had always been a source of inspiration for her.
Kendra tilted her head. “About that, actually, maybe I can pick your brain about something later. I’ve got something brewing businesswise, and it’s right up your alley.” She tapped his arm with her fingers and admired the results that his hard work in the gym had developed.
BJ’s eyebrows rose, but Lani slid across the floor Risky Business–style right into Kendra’s arms before he could respond. He nodded brusquely and sauntered back toward the bar, where Logan was installing some shelving.
“Bitch, you made it!” Her cousin squeezed Kendra tightly before stepping back to assess her appearance, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Lani was all about vibrant colors, and Kendra’s palette was much more neutral, so she was al- ways being bullied to step outside of her comfort zone and into prints that she found too busy, too bright, too attention- grabbing. Lani was in a pair of ripped, acid-washed blue jeans and a loud color-blocked sweater with bright red sneakers. She narrowed her eyes at what she would consider to be low frequencies emanating from Kendra’s look.
Kendra dropped a hand onto her hip and posed. “Don’t play me, I know I look good.” Her coffee-colored duster over a white cropped tee and white high-waisted jogger pants hugged her curves and made her feel clean, like fresh air after a hard rain. She’d pulled her thick, silk-pressed tresses into a sleek ponytail, and per usual, her shades sat on top of her head like a headband. Kendra ran her fingers through her pony- tail, curling the ends around her index finger, and popped her tongue playfully.
Lani leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Mmm-hmm. And a certain someone noticed too.”
“Who? Stanley? I wouldn’t exactly describe him as a chocolate drop. Maybe more like a hazelnut latte.” Kendra tilted her head, assessing the occupants of the room. There was Logan and Shonda, BJ, Auntie Al, Shonda’s sister Bree, Kendra’s par- ents, and Stanley, who was staring at Lani like she stole some- thin’. Logan had a team of people that he’d walked back toward the kitchen, who Kendra assumed were the new restaurant staff. BJ was carrying cartons of wine and spirits down to the basement cellar. Kendra’s mom and Aunt Alisa were pretending to wipe down the counters, but they’d been hovering over the same spot at the bar pointing at Kendra and whispering. The family motto should be: “Subtlety? We don’t know her.”
Stanley’s tall and lean build was squeezed behind some shelving that he was putting together for a wall display. Ken- dra’s dad, Braxton, was reading the assembly instructions aloud to Stanley, whose attention remained trained on Lani, who seemed completely unaware. Kendra made eye contact with Shonda across the room, gesturing slightly with her chin toward Stanley, and Shonda’s smile grew wide. She nodded slowly, steepling her fingers like a mastermind with an evil plan. Kendra winked in response.
“Not Stanley, silly. BJ was asking about you,” Lani whispered, her arm entwined with Kendra’s to keep her from slip- ping again.
BJ? Kendra’s face screwed up into a giant question mark. “Huh? Why?”
Her cousin shrugged. “I’ve been clocking it for the last week. Anytime your name was brought up, he was all ears.”
“I mean, we’ve known the guy a long time, so that doesn’t feel out of the ordinary to me. We haven’t seen each other in years.” Kendra’s last post before her travels was in Silicon Valley. She often returned home for the holidays, but BJ al- ways went to be with his parents in Charlotte. When Kendra had been laid off from her role as a chief data officer for a thriving startup that was absorbed by a tech giant, she’d taken her generous severance package and savings to do some soul- searching around the globe. BJ had checked in once in a while to ask where she was and how she was doing. He’d always been thoughtful in that way.
After visiting family in Thailand and the Philippines, Kendra went to parts of Europe and finished off her trip in New Orleans spending quality time with her Granny. Each destination brought her new adventures and lessons in the culinary world and in determining what tools she would use to pave her path. Everyone in the family had built a legacy in their own way, and it finally felt like Kendra’s turn.
“There’s my ray of sunshine!” Kendra’s dad opened his arms and wrapped her into a warm hug, the scent of tobacco smoke lingering on his jacket.
She squeezed him tight, tucking her chin for her father to kiss her forehead. “Daddy! Mmm, what cigar were you smoking? It smells spicy.”
“Your brother bought me a box of maduros, so we decided to have some coffee and sample them before we got started today.” Her dad’s bronzed skin and thick, straight hair was tousled with some sort of product. Born in Los Angeles to a Filipino mother and a Thai father, he was the embodiment of California, wearing a jean jacket over a light sweater and slacks. When he met his wife, Regina, at George Washington University, he embraced DC with her, setting down roots, eventually convincing Auntie Al and Uncle Ronnie to move up from New Orleans to experience all four seasons. Their time in DC was cut short as they moved back to New Orleans when they started their family––free childcare was worth the return, thanks to Granny and PawPaw.
Once Kendra and Logan were old enough to fend for themselves, Braxton and Regina moved back into their DC home, which they’d rented out while down south. Auntie Mack fell in love with Charleston, and Kendra’s maternal grandmother remained in New Orleans alone now that Paw- Paw had passed. Her paternal grandparents remained in Los Angeles, giving her a reason to get some California sunshine whenever possible, but she’d caught them on their annual trip to visit family during her time in Asia.
“That’s a bold move to start with a maduro, but you know I like those. Especially if the coffee happened to be Irish.” Kendra shared a knowing glance with her father as she pulled back, his arm still around her waist.
Braxton Porter kissed his daughter’s cheek, lowering his voice to barely a whisper before winking at her mischievously. “Your brother and I may have already had an Irish coffee or two out on the patio. Don’t tell your mother.”
Kendra giggled, raising her hands in surrender. “Your secret is safe with me.” They walked toward the bar area, which was painted a deep emerald green with creamy quartz countertops and golden fixtures. The herringbone pattern in the cherrywood flooring gleamed with gradients of reddish browns. “Wow, this place is gorgeous,” she gushed.
Natural light flooded in through massive picture windows dressed with velvet curtains the color of the faintest blush. On the windowsills were decorative vases and small plants, like succulents and snake plants—ones that didn’t require a lot of attention. On the walls were several blown-up photographs from Logan and Shonda’s travels as they’d hit different countries on their bucket list and sampled different cuisines to find the right balance of flavors to feature on their menu of global fare. BJ had busied himself hanging another portrait, and Kendra studied his profile, taking in the broadness of his shoulders and the way his Henley sleeves were pushed up to his forearms, the fabric over his chest and arms hugging his physique. This man just gets better with age . . .
“Yo, can you chill, cuz? You are lookin’ at him like he’s a
four-course meal and you wanna come back for seconds . . .”
Kendra froze, her neck and cheeks immediately coloring at Lani’s observation. “Say it louder, I think the kitchen staff didn’t hear you!” Kendra hissed, her attention snapping away from the strong arms lifting a black-and-white photograph of a wine cellar full of barrels on a long wall leading toward the unisex bathrooms.
BJ glanced in her direction before returning to his task and leveling the frame. Heat crawled up the column of Kendra’s throat, her skin boiling as she stared her cousin down.
“If he heard you, I swear on all things holy that I will tell your mom all about how her favorite cashmere sweater got ruined.” Kendra wiggled her fingers like she was casting a spell on her cousin.
“You wouldn’t.” Lani’s eyes darted around in a panic. As teenagers, she and Kendra snuck out to meet some boys, and Lani swiped her mom’s ultrasoft cardigan to wear over a barely there tank top and coochie cutters. The fast heffa swore the sweater added a level of sophistication to her look. Suffice it to say that it was St. Patty’s Day, and she spilled a green pint of beer on the luxe creamy knit, leaving a giant mint-colored swatch that she couldn’t explain. Instead, Lani framed the family dog and asserted that he’d dragged the sweater outside into the grass. Auntie Mack was devastated.
Kendra’s sinister smile spread like the Grinch stealing Christmas. “Try me.”
1) Tell us a little bit about yourself. How did you get into writing?
I’m A. Pāj Turner, a retired U.S. Army Chief Warrant Officer 5 and Navy veteran who transitioned into storytelling after more than 30 years of service. My military career gave me discipline, perspective, and a deep sense of community responsibility. Writing became my way to channel those experiences into something creative, impactful, and lasting. What began as journaling and personal reflection evolved into a passion for crafting narratives that challenge, inspire, and provoke thought.
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2) What inspired you to write your book?
I was inspired by the legacy of Tulsa’s Greenwood District, also known as Black Wall Street, and the broader history of communities that were dismantled by greed and systemic injustice. I wanted to reimagine what could happen if someone returned home determined to correct those injustices using unconventional strategies. My own experiences in leadership and logistics gave me insight into how systems work—and how they can be re-engineered to empower rather than oppress.
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3) What theme or message do you hope readers will take away from your book?
The central theme is empowerment: the belief that ordinary people, when united with vision and purpose, can transform their communities. I also explore moral gray areas—what sacrifices are justified in pursuit of justice? Ultimately, I want readers to walk away questioning how far they themselves would go to address generational inequality and uplift those around them.
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4) What drew you into this particular genre?
I’ve always been drawn to stories that mix social realism with elements of suspense, strategy, and moral dilemma. Blending historical possibilities with modern struggles allowed me to create a narrative that feels both grounded and cinematic. It’s a genre that gives space for action, intellect, and heart—while also carrying a message that matters.
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5) If you could sit down with any character in your book, what would you ask them and why?
I’d sit down with Richie Tomlison, the protagonist. I’d ask him, “Do you ever worry that your sacrifices will cost you more than you gain?” Because his journey is one of heavy moral weight—balancing personal loss against the pursuit of community liberation. I think his answer would reveal not only his convictions, but also his humanity.
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6) What social media site has been the most helpful in developing your readership?
Instagram has been the most effective for me. The visual nature of the platform allows me to share stills, teasers, and behind-the-scenes content that bring the story world to life. It’s also where collaboration with actors, influencers, and readers builds a sense of community around the project. Pairing visuals with storytelling really resonates with today’s audience.
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7) What advice would you give to aspiring or just starting authors out there?
Don’t wait for perfect conditions—start writing and keep refining. Be disciplined like it’s a mission, but flexible enough to let your story evolve. Also, understand that writing is only half the journey; building an audience and sharing your story with the world requires just as much dedication. Believe in your voice, invest in your craft, and don’t let rejection discourage you.
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8) What does the future hold in store for you? Any new books/projects on the horizon?
The novel The Emancipation of Limits has already been adapted into a pilot presentation, and we’re building it into a six-season TV series. It was recently selected for the Black Hollywood Film Festival, which is an exciting step forward. Beyond that, I’m developing additional novels and film projects, each centered on themes of justice, identity, and empowerment. My goal is to create a body of work that entertains while leaving a lasting impact.
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About the Author
My name is A. PAJ Turner and I was born on the 29th of December, 1971, in Chicago, IL. My parents are Russell Leon Turner Sr. and Joann Turner. They divorced when I was two and he was an absent father to my brother and I. He died in 2002, of natural causes, but had two strokes that probably aided with his passing. He was fifty-two when he passed. My older brother, Russell Jr, took the role as my guardian and protector as he ensured if harm ever came our way, he would shield me at all cost. He was my first superhero and I looked up to him because he had abilities that I felt I could never obtain.
My early childhood was a typical middle-class environment in the 1970’s. My mom worked for Illinois Bell and my grandfather, Richard Watson Sr., who lived with us was my first and the example of what a man should be like. I did everything an inner-city kid would do for fun. Ring doorbells and run, play hide and go seek, kill-the-man, baseball, and other mischievous things. Snowball, rock and crabapple fights,was the thing to do in our neighborhood. When Michael Jordan touched down in Chicago, every child dream was to be like Mike, so basketball became my dream.
My mom did not want Public School education for my brother and I, so she sent us to catholic schools from Kindergarten through High School. I wasn’t the best student, I understood the work, but school just didn’t interest me. My grades showed it and my brother, my defense attorney pleaded his case to mom on why my grades was the way they were. I was proud that he would represent me. As my mom stood there, frowning with her hands on her hip with her leather belt folded in her right hand, she listened. When he told her, my F wasn’t really an F, what he did wrong was or trying to drag a teacher’s work ethic through the mud…. In short, he never won a case. It would have made more sense for my brother to tell her that I was adopted. He never hesitated to tell me that. He reasoning was because I didn’t have many baby pictures.
Eighth grade was the last straw for my mom and grandfather. I remember my grandfather and I was having a conversation about my grades. He said that he didn’t want to die knowing I was doing bad in school. That destroyed me! They last thing I ever wanted was for him to die and not showing him what I could become. I honor rolled in High School and went on to Kennedy King Jr. College on a basketball scholarship. One night, heading to a home game, I got held at gunpoint. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. My uncle, Richard Watson Jr., convinced me to join the military and don’t look back. I did just that.
I’m doing a happy dance! After months of studying, analyzing and planning, I did it. I hit the launch button and my first Kickstarter campaign was successful. Monday Motivation is going to market on November 11th and I cannot wait to embrace this and share this project with the world. I can’t believe it. OMG!
Monday Motivation is a beautiful coffee-table book of 52 motivational quotes and reflections (like our Monday Motivations) that you can enjoy anytime and I want to thank everyone helped who helped contribute to my kickstarter and advocate for this project. There were so many individuals who believed in this project and I thank each and every one of you for the support and contributions from an emotional, mental, and financial aspect.
Finally, I also want to thank my fans and readers for their support of me because without each of you, I would not be here as a successful author or a USA Today Bestseller. Monday Motivation was written and created with all of you in mind and I hope that everyone will not only enjoy it but advocate for it and truly live for the principles within the pages!
Mondays can be tough!
About D.C.
D. C. Gomez is an award-winning USA Today Bestselling Author, podcaster, motivational speaker, and coach. Born in the Dominican Republic, she grew up in Salem, Massachusetts. D. C. studied film and television at New York University. After college she joined the US Army, and proudly served for four years.
D. C. has a Master’s Degree in Science Administration from the Central Michigan University, as well as a Master in Adult Education from Texas A&M- Texarkana University. She is a certified John Maxwell Team speaker and coach, and a certified meditation instructor from the Chopra Center.
One of D. C. passions is helping those around her overcome their self-limiting beliefs. She writes both non-fiction and fiction books, ranging from Urban Fantasy to Children’s Books. To learn more about her books and her passion, you can find her at www.dcgomez-author.com.
To request additional information about the Kickstarter or an interview with DC Gomez, please contact Mickey Mikkelson at Creative Edge Publicity: mickey.creativeedge@gmail.com / 403.464.6925. We look forward to the coverage!
I received a free copy of this book in exchange for a fair and honest review. All opinions are my own.
What should have been a simple procedure to heal herself goes wrong and one woman must go on a journey of forgiveness and healing in author Lorena Junco Margain’s “On the Way to Casa Lotus”.
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The Synopsis
Lorena Junco Margain—passionate art collector and devoted wife and mother—is already shaken after abruptly fleeing Mexico and relocating in the USA with her family while pregnant due to safety concerns. Then, she learns she has a tumor on her adrenal gland. Having long experienced unexplained symptoms of dizziness and lethargy that neither medications nor holistic or Ayurvedic treatments have helped, she embraces the news with tears of relief: with a simple surgery, she can regain her strength and joyful spirit. But fate can be mischievous, and to err is human—even for surgeons. Rather than improve after surgery, her condition worsens.
On the Way to Casa Lotus is the gripping true story of Junco Margain’s journey coming to terms with the permanent consequences of a surgeon’s devastating mistake. Mindful that even good people make errors and that vengeance would not mend her broken body or soul, she chooses instead to embark on a quest for peace and healing—beginning by seeking space in her heart to forgive.
Deeply compassionate, wise and poetic, On the Way to Casa Lotus lays bare some of the most poignant contradictions of the human condition, blurring the distinctions between guilt and neglectfulness, anger and sorrow, humility and shame, gratitude and despair. Rich with imagery and metaphors from the world of contemporary art, brimming with scenes from the author’s close-knit, abundantly loving Mexican family, the book plants a seed of hope that loss and pain can serve a higher purpose: one of promoting forgiveness as a force for personal and universal change.
The Review
This was a beautiful memoir that made a huge impact early on in the book. The author takes a really fresh and kind look at a terrible situation. Striking to find the balance between speaking up for oneself and forgiving someone who has wronged you can be a tricky thing to do, especially in this modern age where people can be vilified with the simple push of a button. It was refreshing to see the author’s perspective take flight in this book, highlighting the heartbreaking reality that no matter how good a person is, we are all flawed, and hating someone is never going to change that.
The author does a wonderful job of capturing so much within this book. From the author’s culture and the shock of leaving the life you know behind to find safety in a much different land, to the fear and frustration that can come with facing not only a difficult health diagnosis but a failed attempt at correcting that diagnosis, this book expertly weaves the author’s life and experiences together while finding the perfect harmony with the author’s message of hope and forgiveness.
The Verdict
A heartfelt, emotional, and ultimately uplifting memoir that highlights the journey to overcome a great wrong and find peace in the wake of tragedy, author Lorena Junco Margain’s “On the Way to Casa Lotus” is a must-read non-fiction read. A thought-provoking story that speaks to so many of us, the author creates a great sense of pacing and imagery that brings their experiences to life wonderfully, and readers will be hard-pressed to put this book down themselves. If you haven’t yet, be sure to grab your copy today!
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About the Author
Born and raised in Mexico (Monterrey and Mexico City), author, art collector, and philanthropist Lorena Junco Margain studied visual arts at Universidad de Monterrey before cofounding the Distrito14 gallery as a platform to amplify emerging Mexican artists. Soon afterward, she cofounded and curated the Margain-Junco Collection with her husband, Eduardo Margain, to support emerging artists, foster the art scene in Mexico, and promote awareness of Mexican art internationally. She also played an instrumental role in launching the 2015 Shaped in Mexico contemporary art exhibition in London. In 2008, Junco Margain was forced to flee Mexico with her husband, children, parents, and extended family due to concerns for their safety. Today she lives with her husband and three kids in Austin, Texas.
Are you tired of the typical “self-help” books? Then this might be for you. Rather than focus on experimental treatments from around the world or a surreal look at the ins and outs of the self-help world, author Anastasia Petrenko introduces readers to Loving Ordinary Life: a self help book for people who are tired of self-help books. The short and easy read is a simple guide on how to be your best self without changing yourself and learning to accept who you are in the most loving way possible. Here is the synopsis:
Loving Ordinary Life is written for us: living, emotional people.
We all want to live a happy life, but we can easily fall into a state of despondency. We prefer to smile, but more often we frown.
We like being inspired, but most likely, we can’t recall the last time when we were.
There are many books and courses about self-motivation and inspiration. You might have heard hundreds of platitudes and affirmations. Each of them sounds valid but their utility is limited when you actually find yourself stuck in a pit of pain and despair.
Loving Ordinary Life is meant to make a functional difference. It’s not a treatment for depression. It is about living a life where depression has no place.
Loving Ordinary Life is your guide. It is designed so that you can open any page and find the inspiration to act and improve your life when you’re feeling down.
Each chapter in Loving Ordinary Life is a tool for moving from a negative idle state to a positive proactive state. It displays to you the art of being present, free, and genuine every day.
If you want to be more fulfilled and enjoy life more, if you’re open to quality changes, Loving Ordinary Life will become your loyal companion.
Everything is within your power. You are the master of your life. How you experience it depends only on you. Take the lead.
“Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.”
Marcus Aurelius
This was a great and quick read. From start to finish you felt a sense of calm take over as you allowed yourself to absorb this book fully. It allows readers to examine their own lives and find happiness not from any external source, but rather from within themselves. Putting a stamp on the reliance of the self over the reliance of society, this book does a great job of creating an air of ease and an atmosphere of relative calm.
Overall this was a wonderful book. Filled with passion, compassion and genuine care, this non self help book does a marvelous job of showing the power we all have within ourselves, and how to embrace it wholeheartedly. If you haven’t yet be sure to pick up your copies of Loving Ordinary Life by Anastasia Petrenko today!
Have you guys seen the latest vlog on my @youtube channel? I talk about live shows and making some changes to the video schedule… #vlog #vlogger #vlogging #youtuber #youtube #youtubers #youtubechannel #liveshows #life #video #videoblog
After a very long and painful day, it was nice to see that I’d hit 500 subscribers on my #YouTube channel! Thanks to all my friends and family and supporters for taking the time to check out my channel and support me. I look forward to the next challenge… #Roadto1k #subscribe #AvinaVlogs #AskAvinaVlogs #YouTuber #YouTubers #Vlog #vlogs #Vlogger #VlogFamily #family #memories #life #appreciation @youtube (at YouTube: www.youtube.com/GunslingerPimp 📷)
