About the Book:
Yet, amid the fear of the virus, police brutality, and riots, there is a love story. Sherry Clemens, an industrial heiress, and Jack Blair, a militant anarchist, fall in love. Will he forsake the revolution for her? What does she know about his covert revolutionary activities? How can her conservative Republican family accept him?
The love story and the crazy politics of our time intertwine and clash. Gloria Hughes, a young idealistic ACLU attorney, needs to untangle the mess and free Jack Blair. The Trump Administration is determined to stop her.
Book Links:
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Read an Excerpt from Anarchist, Republican... Assassin: A Political Novel
I loved coming home from the office on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon seeing her out in the yard picking up sticks from our big oak tree. I’d park the car, hustle out to her, lift her off her feet and hug and snuggle her right there in the front yard. The fresh smell of mowed grass and a little smudge of dirt on her beautiful tan cheek, well, it turned me on. If the kids weren’t home, we’d hold hands and she’d walk me around the yard showing me how her rose bushes were doing or what she’d planted in the little garden she kept out behind the pool. Sometimes, I just picked her up and carried her into our bedroom. We’d make love and then jump in the pool still naked.
I start to break down again. I’m going backward in my story instead of forward in telling what happened with Sherry. It’s harder than I expected. Talking about her makes her sort of come back to life for me. It’s painful and sweetly poignant at the same time. But I know I have to move on, because Ms. Hughes can’t spend the whole night imprisoned here in this little room.
April was the cruelest month. It was the month Sherry was supposed to turn fifty-eight, if she lived to the twenty-ninth. She died on April twenty-seven.
She insisted on staying home those last few weeks. We had hospice, a home healthcare service, and a housekeeper to help me in every way that I needed. Sherry was taking acetaminophen and haloperidol to minimize her pain and sedate her enough she could sleep some of the time.
I sat on the side of the bed or lay beside her about twenty-four hours every day of the last two weeks of her life. We kept a speaker phone beside the bed, so she could talk to Ben and Lydia every day. She was losing her voice to the throat cancer, so the last few times she talked to the kids all she could do was croak out the word, love. That’s what my beautiful wife was at the end for Ben and Lydia. She was just love.
About the Author:
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