16 Jun A. B. Michael The Madness of Mrs. Whittaker Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub @ABMichaelsBooks @maryanneyarde

FEATURED AUTHOR: A. B. MICHAELS

It is my pleasure to feature A. B. Michaels as part of The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour being held from June 14th  – June 25th, 2021. A. B. Michaels is the author of the historical fiction novel, The Madness of Mrs. Whittaker (The Golden City, Book Six), which was recently released by Red Trumpet Press on June 9th, 2021 (450 pages). 

Below are highlights of The Madness of Mrs. Whittaker, A. B. Michaels’ author bio, and an excerpt from her book.

HIGHLIGHTS: THE MADNESS OF MRS. WHITTAKER

The Madness of Mrs. Whittaker

Series: (The Golden City, Book Six)

By A.B. Michaels

While exploring the remote possibility of contacting her dead husband through a spirit medium, a young widow is pronounced insane and committed to an asylum against her will. As she struggles to escape the nightmare she’s been thrust into, she is stripped of everything she holds dear, including her identity and her reason to live. The fight to reclaim what is rightfully hers will test every aspect of her being, up to and including her sanity. Is she up to the task, or has her grip on reality already slipped away?

Book Six of The Golden City series, The Madness of Mrs. Whittaker explores two major forces of early twentieth century America: the religious movement called Spiritualism and treatment of the mentally ill. Like all of A.B. Michaels’ novels, it is a stand-alone read.

Buy Link Series Buy Links (In order):

The Art of Love

The Depth of Beauty

The Promise

The Price of Compassion: 

Josephine’s Daughter: 

The Madness of Mrs Whittaker

AUTHOR BIO: A. B. MICHAELS

A native of California, A.B. Michaels holds masters’ degrees in history (UCLA) and broadcasting (San Francisco State University). After working for many years as a promotional writer and editor, she turned to writing fiction, which is the hardest thing she’s ever done besides raise two boys. She lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in Boise, Idaho, where she is often distracted by playing darts and bocce and trying to hit a golf ball more than fifty yards. Reading, quilt-making and travel figure into the mix as well, leading her to hope that sometime soon, someone invents a 25+ hour day.

Social Media Links:

Website  ♠  Twitter  ♠  Facebook  ♠  Pinterest  ♠   BookBub  ♠   Author Page   ♠  Goodreads

EXCERPT: THE MADNESS OF MRS. WHITTAKER

[Excerpt from The Madness of Mrs. Whittaker taken from Chapter 6 – 625 words]:

In this scene, Mae is in the midst of her first “mourning circle,” which readers will recognize as a séance.  The medium, Mrs. Springvale, has just shown the group that she knows the content of the notes they’ve written without even reading them.

Once the last person’s note had been divined, Mrs. Springvale thanked the group and asked them to once more “create a spiritual-physical connection,” which Mae quickly learned was a command to grasp hands. Pasiphae re-entered the room and this time stood just behind the medium. Without saying a word, she began to stroke the back of the woman’s head. Mrs. Springvale said nothing, but over the next few minutes the feeble lamplight that had illuminated her face petered out.

Several more agonizing minutes passed.

In the dark, her hands still held fast, Mae felt the whisper of a breeze run along her wrist, as if someone had opened a window or blown gently on her skin. The thought sent a shiver through her. At the same time, she heard a strange humming from the other side of the table; was it Mrs. Springvale?

Fat Fingers gripped her hand harder and whispered, “I am Asterius. Do not be afraid.”

His words had the opposite effect: Mae fought to keep panic at bay. I do not want to be here!  Strangely, the hand on her right side grounded her.  It did not squeeze or grow clammy or limp.  It was simply there for her to hold onto.

In the next instant, her anxiety intensified at the eerie sound of Mrs. Springvale’s monotonal voice.

“I … I see a man walking down a city street.  He is holding his daughter’s hand.  She has golden hair. She looks up to him. She loves him very much.  He is her daddy. He wants her to know he will always be her daddy, no matter what.”  There were a few minutes of silence, then … “Wait … he is older now, and sad. So very sad.  He misses his little girl. She was such a help to him. He wants to tell her … tell her something. He knows what lays heavy on her.”

Guilt slithered through Mae. After years spent rescuing her father from himself, she had finally left him to fight his demons alone. Her marriage, she admitted, had been a mistake in more than one way. Her father had been ill, and she should never have forsaken him.

 Claire’s voice permeated the silence. “Papa!” she cried.

“Shh,” someone whispered. “Let her finish.”

No. Mae half rose from her seat, held back by Fat Fingers.  She wanted to stop this … this, whatever it was.  It was too intense, too—

“Ahhhh!” cried Mrs. Springvale, startling Mae into sitting back down. 

Pasiphae stroked the medium’s brow and murmured something to her before announcing quietly, “That is all for today. Sterope and Merope, may you be blessed.” 

Apparently, that was the signal for two of the table’s occupants to leave.  One of them—an old woman—turned to help another who seemed near to her in age.  Without saying a word, they shuffled toward the sliver of light at the bottom of the door leading to the front parlor.

Several minutes later, when Pasiphae called, “Asterius,” Fat Fingers obediently let go of Mae’s hand and exited. She tugged her fingers away from the man on the right, and he released her with no objection.

The recessional continued, and Mae was relieved when she and Claire were finally instructed to leave. As they did, she noticed the basket had more than one large bill in it.  Claire added some money of her own and they exited the building, where their buggy was waiting.

The “church service” was over.

Thank God.                  

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