Monday, November 7, 2016

Mâtowak Woman Who Cries by Joylene Nowell Butler

Congratulations, Joylene! Welcome and wishing you lots of success. 

Author Joylene Nowell Butler is on tour this month with MC Book Tours featuring her new novel, Mâtowak Woman Who Cries, being released Nov. 1 by Dancing Lemur Press L.L.C.

You can follow Joylene's tour schedule HERE for excerpts, Q&As,  chances to win copies of her book and more.

A murder enveloped in pain and mystery...

When Canada's retired Minister of National Defense, Leland Warner, is murdered in his home, the case is handed to Corporal Danny Killian, an aboriginal man tortured by his wife's unsolved murder.
The suspect, 60-year-old Sally Warner, still grieves for the loss of her two sons, dead in a suicide/murder eighteen months earlier. Confused and damaged, she sees in Corporal Killian a friend sympathetic to her grief and suffering and wants more than anything to trust him.
Danny finds himself with a difficult choice—indict his prime suspect, the dead minister's horribly abused wife or find a way to protect her and risk demotion. Or worse, transfer away from the scene of his wife’s murder and the guilt that haunts him...


Chapter 16
A telemarketer called this morning. She wanted to know what products I favour. I said I didn't know and tried telling her that my husband had just died, but she interrupted and spouted a list. “How many children do you have, ma'am?” I'm wondering what this has to do with advertising when she says, “Do you know millions of parents in South Africa have seven children and they're all dead before the age of five?” Instantly, a bottomless wail sprang from my mouth. It shocked me as much as it must have shocked her. I didn't hear what she said next, just the sound of the dial tone after she hung up. More than five minutes passed before I grew quiet. I set the phone back in its charger, and then plopped down at the breakfast table. I've been here ever since.
How many children do I have? After Declan and Bronson died, I practiced saying, “None,” until I no longer choked over the word.
“None.” But really, who says none?
The one good thing about being in the public eye is everyone had heard of our tragedy long before we returned to Ottawa to finish Leland's term. I practiced saying, “It's just Leland and I,” but it was an exercise in vain. No one until this morning has asked.
My chest hurts. So do my eyes. The microwave clock is blurry. Nine-forty already?
I press my hands to the table and slide the chair back as I rise. I've begun a bad habit of staying in my housecoat far too long into the day. I must stop. I shuffle from the breakfast room through the house and towards the stairs. There are things to be done for tomorrow's memorial service, but after that? I know from watching all those educational programs on the health network and from my volunteer work at the hospital and the United Way that an effort must be made to fill my day. My relationship with God is iffy, some days I believe in Him, some days I don't, but regardless I'll stay in contact with the ladies from church. Maybe I should have a few over for tea and cookies next week. No, I'm not ready for small talk right now, maybe in a few weeks. I'll go through my jewellery first. The ladies deserve at least something of value from me.
Flash of movement on my right—my hand flies to rest against my heart, which now pounds through my palm. I inch closer. Outside the window next to my front door, he appears inside my porch. I move towards the door. He smiles. Leland?
Oh my god. I catch my breath. Smile. “Good morning,” I say once the door is unlocked and opened and I can see it really is Killian. The winter air rushing in behind him is refreshing but chilly. It bites at my ankles. I shiver and glance down at my housecoat and slippers. “You've caught me at a disadvantage.” I pull my robe's belt tighter.
He stomps the snow off his boots, and then does a strange thing, he slips off his boots and stands in his stocking feet. My eyes drift from his toes to his face. He sees my bewilderment and blushes. “Sorry, ma'am. Guess I left my manners next to the snow blower this morning. May I come in?”

Mâtowak Woman Who Cries is available in eBook at the following sites:

The print copy is available at: 

When Joylene's father died in 1983, she wrote her first full–length manuscript to channel her grief. The seven-year process left her hooked and she began Dead Witness within a few weeks of finishing Always Father's Child. Today Joylene is the author of three suspense novels: Dead Witness, Broken But Not Dead, and the steampunk collaboration Break Time. While she'll admit being published didn't fix all the wrongs in her life, she wishes her parents had lived to see her success. Dead Witness was a finalist in the 2012 Global eBook Awards. Broken But Not Dead won the 2012 IPPY Silver Medal and its sequel Mâtowak Woman Who Cries is due for release November 1, 2016.

Joylene lives with her husband and their two cats Marbles and Shasta on beautiful Cluculz Lake in central British Columbia. They spend their winters in Bucerias, Nayarit, Mexico.

For more on Joylene and her writing, visit her website and blog then connect with her on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and her Amazon
Author Page

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