Books

Inside a century-old row house in Brooklyn, renegade Sister Evelyn and her fellow nuns preside over a safe haven for the abused and abandoned. Gruff and indomitable on the surface, warm and wry underneath, little daunts Evelyn, until she receives word that Mercy House will be investigated by Bishop Hawkins, a man with whom she shares a dark history. In order to protect everything they’ve built, the nuns must conceal many of their methods, which are forbidden by the Catholic Church.

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Evelyn will go to great lengths to defend all that she loves. She confronts a gang member, defies the church, challenges her own beliefs, and faces her past. She is bolstered by the other nuns and the vibrant, diverse residents of the shelter—Lucia, Mei-Li, Desiree, Esther, and Katrina—whose differences are outweighed by what unites them: they’ve all been broken by men but are determined to rebuild.

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Amidst her fight, Evelyn discovers the extraordinary power of mercy and the grace it grants, not just to those who receive it, but to those strong enough to bestow it.

For Sera Wheeler  the Olympics is the reason for everything: it’s why she trains thirty hours a week, starves herself to under 100 pounds,  and pops Advil like Tic Tacs.

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For her mother, it’s a means to achieve the glory she never had. It’s why she rises before dawn to drive Sera to practice. And why the family scrimps, saves, and fractures. 

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It’s why, when her best friend and fellow elite gymnast reports their doctor to the authority who selects the Olympic Team, Sera denies all that she knows about his treatments.

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The Happiest Girl in the World is a novel that explores the dark history behind an athlete who stands on the world stage, biting down on a gold medal. It's about the sacrifices a parent will make for a child, even as a family is torn apart. It’s about the price of pursuing greatness.

My Body Is A Big Fat Temple, follows a writer as she debates having children, miscarries, faces morning sickness, uncertainty, physical impairments, labor, breastfeeding, the “baby blues,” the heartache of not loving her son as she thinks she should, parenting through a plague, until finally blossoming into her new identity.

Creating life is a primal phenomenon. It requires grit, resilience, and a lot of bathroom breaks. There are dry heaves and darkened nipples, crotch lightning and brain fuzz, milk stains, sleep regressions, and  despair and joy. It's a complicated magic. The undertaking is airbrushed by a culture that dictates what women can do and how they should feel. We don’t get the full story, so mothers with unromantic experiences feel alone. This is why the voices of women matter. The voices of mothers matter. Here’s one to keep you company, and to remind you to do your Kegels. (They’re really important.)