Reconstructing Charlie by Charmaine Gordon

Charlie Costigan has a secret that will change the lives of everyone she knows.

Reconstructing charlie

Charlie Costigan has a secret. Home life gone from bad to the worst when she protects her mother from another vicious attack by her drunken father. 

Midnight. Clothes thrown into an old suitcase, she races for the bus with a letter to an unknown aunt and uncle. "This is my daughter. Embrace her as if she were your own."

Determined, Charlie begins again. Alone with her secret.

Genre: FICTION / Suspense

Secondary Genre: FICTION / Contemporary Women

Language: English

Keywords:

Word Count: 56600

Sales info:

Charmaine Gordon's entire backlist is receiving continued increases in sales, due to extensive promotion and marketing to a worldwide audience. Best sales are through Apple and Kobo, and Reconstructing Charlie is a book club favorite.


Sample text:

In 1996, I killed my father.

Dear old Dad was great with a belt. A belt of whiskey. A belt from around his waist unbuckled when you least expected it and later I knew when it was coming and some of us escaped. Not me, not Mom. Never Mom. I’m the oldest. I didn’t want the little ones to see the okay dad turn into a monster dad on payday. Every payday.

 

I heard the television turned up loud before I opened the door. Mom always hoped for a distraction. Maybe this time instead of beating up on us, he’d watch the Minnesota Twins beat the hell out of the Boston Red Sox. Rant over every play, curse the umpires, yell that the Hubert H. Humphrey Stadium wasn’t good enough. 1996. Not a great year so far for the Twins. On this payday, after I dropped the kids off, I raced home just in time to be with Mom.

The front door banged open hard enough to rattle dishes in the cabinet. Mom’s treasure—a painted porcelain egg—rolled to the edge, teetered for a second and fell end over end to the hardwood floor. The small egg cracked with the force of a bomb. Mom stared at broken pieces from a life she had long ago. Her face turned white, every freckle showing, and my fists clenched.

He staggered around waving a tire iron in the air; muscled from working a jackhammer for the city all his sorry life and ugly drunk. Flowers flew off the table with sprays of water and shattered glass. Cursing, he went after Mom. This time I was ready. I wrestled it out of his filthy hands and hit him good. He lay torn up, didn’t move, blood everywhere on Mom’s clean kitchen floor. 


Book translation status:

The book is available for translation into any language except those listed below:

LanguageStatus
Portuguese
Already translated. Translated by Raphael Medeiros
Author review:
Raphael provided an accurate and excellent translation in a timely manner. We'd recommend his work with high confidence and hope to work with him again soon.
Spanish
Translation in progress. Translated by Santiago Ferreira da Costa

Would you like to translate this book? Make an offer to the Rights Holder!



  Return