Please join me in welcoming Kathryn Barrett to Novel Kicks. She’s here with the blog tour for her novel, True Courage. 

Some days it was hell being leader of the free world.

The Washington press calls him the “accidental president.” As a Medal of Honor recipient and national hero, Adam Dybik agreed to run for president during the country’s deepest crisis.

Now that things have stabilized, he’s got problems at home: his 14-year-old daughter Katie keeps ditching her Secret Service protection and reminding him he’s the world’s worst father. And on top of that, he’s begun hearing the voices of dead presidents. Either he’s going mad, or the White House is haunted.

As the new head of Katie’s Secret Service detail, Ellie Brody is trying to live up to the high expectations of her father, former agent Frank Brody. But her new job puts her in direct danger of succumbing to the president’s charm.

Can these two find love in the White House, under the most intense media scrutiny—and the watchful eye of Lyndon Johnson?

Kathryn has kindly shared an extract with us today. Enjoy. 

*****beginning of extract*****

This scene is from Chapter 5 and is set at Camp David, the presidential retreat in the Maryland mountains, where Adam makes up for his poor performance at golf by sinking a basketball:

The crisis in Idaho averted, Adam rode Golf Cart One to Leatherwood, where a basketball game was in progress: White House staff vs. Secret Service, and it looked like his team was getting whipped.

He’d been telling his staff to get more exercise, but most of them were more interested in writing policy papers about Latin American economies than in manhandling an elliptical machine. He’d made it a point to hire the best and the brightest, regardless of political party, but now he wished he’d given a thought to hiring the tallest and fittest.

He heard Ellie’s voice. “That’s another three!” she called out. Though she wasn’t very tall, she was hustling up and down the court so fast he had to check to make sure she wasn’t wearing rollerblades.

He waded into the fray. “Hand it over, punk,” he told the six-foot-three agent dribbling the ball. After snatching the ball, Adam raced to the end of the court. Ignoring the defender in front of him, he tossed it neatly into the rim.

He wished Larry were there to see how easily he’d managed that hole-in-one.

He spun around and high-fived his speechwriter, Melissa. “Okay, team, let’s win this one for the Gipper!”

“The who?” he heard his scheduler ask the congressional liaison.

Presidential prestige was put aside on the basketball court. Adam took his share of ribbing. But unlike golf, he was no newcomer to this game. When he’d started out in the prosecutor’s office in Chicago, he’d regularly played pick-up games at the local gym. Ten years earlier, he’d been quicker, meaner.

Now, at forty-five, he had to rely on his wits.

Continue reading →

by