I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the BLUEBIRD AT MY WINDOW by H. Noah Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
Title: BLUEBIRD AT MY WINDOW
Author: H. Noah
Pub. Date: February 15, 2022
Publisher: H. Noah
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 394
Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, TBD, Bookshop.org
When faced with trauma, how would you react?
Would you survive, succumb, or lose yourself to your own meaning of justice?
Ann was only seventeen when she died. She tried to be a dutiful daughter, to pray, to repent. But it wasn’t enough. Her mother, Diane, didn’t mean to kill her but when she found Ann consorting with devils, she had no choice. She believed the angels—that in the end, the water would save them both.
But every choice holds weight. One death, and Arthur is thrown back into the work he wanted to leave. One death, and Richard must face the reality of his choices. One death, and Maddie and Marie are confronted with the hardest parts of love. If only good intentions were enough to keep them from the carnage of their own decisions . . .
A dark contemporary fiction drenched in blood, this debut novel from H. Noah has an intricate true crime feeling with psychological depth.
Content Warning
The following book centers around processing trauma. Please be aware that it will touch upon such topics as violence, sexual assault (not overly descriptive), racism, microaggressions, misogyny, incest, and homophobia. This book also focuses on mental health and will cover depression, anxiety, PTSD, suicidal ideation, hearing voices, religious fixations, delusions, self-harm, and drug abuse.
This book is dark due to the topics covered. This is not a horror or thriller meant to scare you. Please be kind to yourself and put the book back if you are not in a good place to read any of the things mentioned above.
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Portland, Maine
Friday, October 14, 2016
Diane Loucks
The water swelled like a second skin around her fingers. Thick flesh-colored tendrils, clinging to the newly pure.
Light scattered through the small window, burning white hot across the chipped tile, curled wallpaper, and filth. Everything within this small house on a hill still festered with the sin of her—my daughter.
She’d fought me as she always had. Her arm draped over the side of the old claw tub, almost at ease, even bent back at an odd angle. I’d forgotten to turn off the water completely, but I couldn’t get up. I was fixed against the ground, watching as the water gathered and fell from her pale fingertips. No more rush, no more panic. Each drop reached slowly to the floor, hitting the tile with a soft pink splash.
It was done.
My naked flesh numbed to the bitter tile as I lay at the tub’s feet. Each fold of skin stretched, suctioning to the floor, holding me in place. Something had gone wrong in the blessing. I’d stripped myself in preparation but she’d refused, made me pull clothing to ribbons as I blessed the water.
When she didn’t wake up, I’d called the preacher. Tried to understand what had happened, why the angels had lied.
But he was useless.
That’s when I slid to the floor, streaking the wall behind me with her blood. Ichor that still clung to my skin and the floor beneath.
Fraud. Liar.
You did the right thing.
It should have worked.
It did.
Pure!
Why didn’t it work?
She’s clean now. The preacher was unholy.
Why hasn’t she risen?
You were the unclean one.
The scream ripped from within me. I wanted quiet, needed it. I scratched my ears, ripping my body from the tile.
The pain worked, but not well enough.
I slammed knuckles into my skull.
Not enough.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
My skull reverberated against the hard ceramic. The sharp ache purified, but didn’t silence. So I kept crashing into it as skin split across my forehead, turning my vision burgundy. It gave me something to focus on, to control.
The demons didn’t like that.
I could hear them in the walls, closing around me. Devils playing tricks as they reached from beneath the wallpaper, touching. I thrashed against them all, gouging holes into the small space. Drywall fingers ripped through flesh as my blood seeped and spilled to the floor, covering hers. The air was suffocating, poisoned, thick, and sandy.
They wanted to silence me.
But still I screamed.
They wanted me quiet, malleable to their will.
Everyone did.
I wanted to fracture the foundation.
About H. Noah:
They’ve been a massage therapist, social worker, poet, teacher, and more. Picking up a B.A. in Criminology and an M.S. in I-O Psychology. They’ve also lived in Alaska, Maine and many places in-between. They are currently still trying to find a forever place as they travel the US.
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Giveaway Details:
1 winner will receive a $10 Amazon Gift Card, International.
Tour Schedule:
Week One:
2/7/2022 |
Kickoff Post |
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2/7/2022 |
IG Post |
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2/8/2022 |
Guest Post/IG Post |
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2/8/2022 |
Excerpt |
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2/9/2022 |
Excerpt |
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2/9/2022 |
Guest Post |
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2/10/2022 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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2/10/2022 |
Review |
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2/11/2022 |
Review |
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2/11/2022 |
Review |
Week Two:
2/14/2022 |
Review |
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2/14/2022 |
Review |
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2/15/2022 |
Excerpt /IG Post |
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2/15/2022 |
IG Spotlight |
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2/16/2022 |
Excerpt/IG Post |
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2/16/2022 |
Review |
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2/17/2022 |
Review |
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2/17/2022 |
Excerpt |
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2/18/2022 |
Review |
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2/18/2022 |
Spotlight |