Spotlight & Giveaway: Her Missing Pieces by Susan Sands

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Susan Sands to HJ!

Hi Susan and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, Her Missing Pieces!

To start off, can you please tell us a little bit about this book?:

Sadie Brubaker disappears at age sixteen from her hometown of Moonshine, Georgia without a trace. The town still bears the scars from losing one of their own, and the townsfolk have all come to their own conclusions about what might’ve happened to her.

Thirteen years later, Sadie shows up wanting answers of her own. She has no memory of what happened the night she went missing or anything about her life before. No memory of her mother or her sister, or of the step-dad who’d abused her. Now, she must face her past and try to put the missing pieces of her early life back together with the help of Moonshine’s sheriff, Chase Blackburn.

Chase was a young deputy when Sadie disappeared and had been obsessed with finding the young woman and bringing her back home to her family. Now, he’s going to help her regain her memory and put things right.
 

Please share your favorite lines or quote(s) from this book:

“Showing up from the dead is best done in person.”—Sadie Brubaker

What inspired this book?

As a kid, I was fascinated by the photos of missing children on the backs of milk cartons. I wanted to write a story about a true “milk carton kid” who came home without a memory of what had happened to her. The idea took root and Sadie Brubaker was born.

How did you ‘get to know’ your main characters? Did they ever surprise you?

This story begins with the protagonist as Randi Collins. She has no memory of ever being Sadie Brubaker, so Randi has to “meet” her true self. She’s in Nebraska and heads to rural Georgia, so the culture shock is pretty real since she only remembers her life in the Midwest for the past thirteen years.

Watching Randi become Sadie through regaining her memories was interesting. I felt like a bystander watching it happen so much of the time. Sadie’s personality as a child was far feistier than Randi’s more sedate adult one. Randi suffered some effects from a head injury and her amnesia, so merging the two was quite fascinating.

What was your favorite scene to write?

This was the scene where Randi finds out everything she’s ever known is a lie. It’s her call to action.

“This is going to be a trying day for you, and I’m afraid there’s no way to prevent it. Thelma’s passing without warning took away her opportunity to transition your finding out the way she’d hoped.”

My stomach lurched. “Finding out what?”

“Your memory loss kept her from telling you something very important. She continued to wait for the right time. She’d been planning a trip for the two of you as a way to reintroduce you to your childhood and maybe jar your memory.”

“What in the world do you mean? We never went anywhere.” This wasn’t getting any better. It was as if everything became still. I held my breath. This was it.

“My dear, Thelma wasn’t your mother.” He said this as if it was some huge bombshell.

I nodded. “I realize she wasn’t my birth mother. I was adopted as an infant.”

He shook his head, a sympathetic expression on his kind face. “Thelma only came to know you after you lost your memory at age sixteen.” His gaze held mine.

Bombshell.

He could have said anything else. But he didn’t. He’d just told me that my mother wasn’t my mother. “Sixteen? That’s not possible. No. Th-there was a c-car crash.” My teeth began to chatter. “She a-adopted me when I was an infant.”

“I know what a shock this is. Your finding out this way is the last thing Thelma wanted.”

“Oh, Randi.” Jenny grabbed my hand and passed me a tissue from the corner of the desk.

Mr. Whitaker continued. “The real truth is that she rescued you from a bus station. She found you wandering and injured. From what she’s shared, she had very good reason not to bring you to the authorities.”

Jenny moved closer. “I don’t understand, Mr. Whitaker. Are you saying Thelma found and kept Randi? Without letting anyone know?”

A realization hit then. I’d been sixteen. She’d kidnapped me? I thought the words but dared not say them aloud.

He cleared his throat and didn’t quite look either of us in the eye. “Thelma was my client, and all she would tell me about that night is that she refused to return you to someone who might hurt you again. She hoped you would regain your memory but couldn’t take the chance with your safety. So, she planned to keep you safe until you remembered. But you never did.”

“She kidnapped me?” I choked out finally, repeating my thoughts. “But she was my mother. She loved me.”

But she wasn’t my mother. Or even my adopted mother.

Excerpt From Her Missing Pieces, Susan Sands This material may be protected by copyright.

What was the most difficult scene to write?

It was hard to write about the abuse and how her mother hadn’t protected Sadie from her stepdad.

“Momma put her arms around me. “It’s all gonna be all right now. You’re back, thank the Lord. My heart knew you were out there someplace, but my mind kept telling me Hank had killed you and buried you somewhere.”

I stared at her. And you didn’t kill him yourself? Were they only talking about that night? How many other times had he hurt me? Beaten me?

“He swore it was all his blood on the floor and that you’d run off after the two of you had fought in the barn.”

I stared at her, not knowing how to respond. I got that she was scared, even deathly afraid, but to not come out with a shotgun and blow him to hell if she had any inkling what might be happening to me was beyond my understanding of what mothers should do to protect their children. Though I had no children, I knew what Thelma would’ve done to save me, without a single doubt. She’d changed her whole life for me—that I knew.

“Momma bowed her head and continued. “I never knew if he was telling the truth. He told me I wouldn’t ever see you again, and I didn’t know what he meant and was so afraid he would kill me and Julie too. I wasn’t scared of dying, mind you, but I needed to be here for the two of you. Not that I was any help—”

I didn’t have any real ideas on how to comfort her at the moment, not sure I even wanted to, but I could be honest.”

Excerpt From Her Missing Pieces, Susan Sands. This material may be protected by copyright.

Would you say this book showcases your writing style or is it a departure for you?

I think it’s a little grittier than I usually write. The style is similar, but the story is more serious and a bit heavier. It’s a bigger book.

What do you want people to take away from reading this book?

Maybe that life isn’t always happy or unhappy. There are really bad things that happen to us throughout, and happiness isn’t measured by the idea that everything in our lives is going well. I believe we have moments of happiness. This story focuses on those moments while the terrible things are still happening.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

I’m currently working on book three in the Moonshine, Georgia series, entitled, What They Don’t Know.

A Georgia Christmas (novella book 2 in the Moonshine, Georgia series) in the A Southern Christmas Anthology (with Laurie Beach and Sinclair Jayne) due out in early November 2024

What They Don’t Know (Moonshine book three) releases April 29th, 2025

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: Winner will receive one ebook copy of HER MISSING PIECES by Susan Sands from Tule Publishing, plus one additional ebook of the winner’s choice from Tule Publishing.

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: Have you ever learned a family secret that surprised you?

 
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Excerpt from Her Missing Pieces:

Chapter One
My best friend Jenny arrived just as the paramedics were rolling my precious mom, or Thelma, as I called her, out in a body bag on a gurney. Its wheels squeaked repetitively as it trundled by, headed out the door. I couldn’t look. My horror over finding her like that this morning would never cease—I was sure of it.

I was currently sitting on the floor of the living room of our home, where Thelma and I had watched TV for the final time together last night. I held the remote in my hand. Early this morning, my beagle mix, Daisy Mae, had alerted me that something was wrong. I shivered. I still couldn’t believe this was happening.

Now, only a few hours later, there were strangers in our house—our sanctuary. Completing paperwork, making calls, and taking photos. We didn’t do strangers, but here they were, invading our precious privacy. It was only me now. I was thankful for Jenny or I would be completely alone in this.

“Oh my God, Randi. I’m so sorry.” Jenny nearly sprinted to cover the space between us. She wrapped me in a tight hug. Her embrace was welcome but didn’t change anything.

“She’s gone, Jenny,” I whispered, sounding as broken as I felt.

“I can’t believe it.” Jenny was obviously trying not to cry as she sniffled and dashed tears from her eyes. “And I’m sorry you had to find her like that.” Jenny pulled a tissue from the box beside the sofa. Jenny had known Thelma since we had attended the local college together. Jenny was like family to both of us.

“Thanks for being here.”

“Excuse me, ma’am.” One of the paramedics handed me a paper to sign to release the body. Thelma was a body now. I cycled from crying to being numb and back to crying. This overwhelming flood of emotion surprised me. I wasn’t an overly emotional person—or hadn’t been that I could remember, but that was the thing: I didn’t remember anything from before my sixteenth birthday. Retrograde amnesia. Dissociative amnesia. Those were the terms that doctors had used to describe my very strange condition. I didn’t even remember why I called my mother by her given name. Or why, until now, that I hadn’t tapped into my emotions like a normal person. I didn’t cry or even laugh out loud, despite the fact that I found things sad and amusing.

“Of course.” Jenny happened to be a clinical therapist. Ours wasn’t a doctor-patient relationship, but she still gave great advice and had seen firsthand what I’d gone through, not knowing anything from my childhood. “I’m so glad you called.”

I burst into sobs, my shoulders racking as I wept. “Jenny, what will I do?” I meant now. And forever. But mostly right now. I had no idea how to live a day without my Thelma in my life.

“You’ll breathe. And I’ll help you get through this.”

An hour later, they were all gone except Jenny. I’d closed Thelma’s bedroom door, leaving everything as it was. Always neat and tidy, but I couldn’t find the courage or strength to even glance inside today. My head ached and nausea sat in the pit of my stomach.

My disbelief warred with the sobbing realization of today’s dreadful nightmare. How could this be happening?

“Do you want me to spend the night?” Jenny asked, clearly worried about me.

I shook my head. “I know you have to work tomorrow. I-I’ll be okay. Daisy Mae is here with me.” I didn’t want to burden Jenny. I honestly didn’t know if I would ever be okay.

Jenny frowned. “I’m not convinced but call me anytime during the night if you need me. I’ll come.”

“Thanks for everything, Jenny. I don’t understand any of this. Mom was so healthy and fit, especially for her age. How does somebody like that die without any warning?”

Jenny shook her head, her eyes sad. “Sometimes people do.”

Once I shut the door, I remembered Daisy Mae in the backyard. When I let her in, her tail wagged and she seemed just as happy to see me as always, like every other time I’d opened the door to let her in. But she’d found Mom just hours ago and had alerted me. Dogs were so simple but complex at the same time.

Daisy Mae set to sniffing around the house, smelling the scents of everyone who’d been in and out in the past couple of hours. Then, she searched the entire place, every room. For Mom, I was sure. Which set forth a new torrent of tears and sobs. “She’s gone, girl.”

Chapter Two
It had been just over a week now since I’d discovered my mom, Thelma, deceased in her bed. She’d simply stopped breathing at some point during the night. I’d never lost anyone, and I wasn’t handling it well. I shook my head at the memory of how Thelma had looked when I’d found her. She’d been so cold. I didn’t think I would ever get that day out of my head.

I missed Thelma sitting beside me eating popcorn while we watched our shows and laughing at the funny parts, which made me cry again. How did people do this? This heavy emotion? It was exhausting. Now, the thought of watching any of our favorite streaming shows filled me with sadness.

Mom and Daisy Mae had taken up my whole heart, and now half of it was gone. There was an empty space where Thelma used to be. All I had left were the past thirteen years filled with memories. Not a lifetime together, though. Since the car accident as a teen where I’d suffered a severe head injury. The only lasting effect was that I couldn’t remember my childhood—that, and my flat affect. I wondered what I’d been like before the accident.

Thelma was always super-weird about protecting me and I’d been living here with her still, at the age of twenty-nine. Jenny, Thelma, and Daisy Mae made up my circle. I had a few casual acquaintances, but I’d lived a sheltered life with Thelma.

Jenny and I were going to spread Thelma’s ashes in her garden today. I’d been dreading this all week so I didn’t want to delay it any longer.

I’d called the attorney’s office number on the card under the magnet from the refrigerator the night after Thelma had passed. A few days before, she’d mentioned the card and said, “The attorney’s card is on the refrigerator, darlin’. If anything were to happen to me, he’s the one you should call immediately.” She’d said this out of the clear blue as we sat together in the garden, sharing a glass of iced tea, and enjoying the nice weather. I’d blown it off as one does when one thinks nothing bad would ever happen. When I’d called him, the attorney was equally stunned at learning of Thelma’s passing.

Arnold P Whitaker, Esq. had kindly provided me with details to have Thelma cremated per her wishes and send the bill to his office. I’d had no idea she’d already planned for her untimely death.

Mr. Whitaker insisted we meet as soon as I’d spread the ashes in the garden out back. He’d been helpful and expressed his condolences. I wondered when he’d met and done business with Thelma. She hadn’t gotten out much besides going to the bank, the garden center, and the grocery as far as I knew. Maybe when I’d been working on a design project? Somehow she’d set up her estate and final wishes without my knowing anything about it.

Jenny touched my shoulder and nodded toward the urn. “Are you ready? Do you want to say anything?”

Should I say something? I shook my head. My mother knew how much I loved her. I hadn’t even thought to bring in a minister. Thelma hadn’t been a churchgoer, though she kept a Holy Bible beside her bed and a rosary hanging on her bedpost. She’d never taken me to church, and I wondered if she’d attended Catholic mass when she was younger—before I lost my memory. Something else I’d never asked her about when she was alive.

“Do you want to say something?” I asked Jenny. I didn’t want to prevent her from expressing any sentiments if she felt the need.

Jenny seemed to think about it for a minute. “No. There’s no need to be formal. I can’t imagine her wanting formality.”

Thelma had surely been the most unpretentious, plain-spoken woman on earth. I meant that in a good way. She wasn’t coarse, but direct. She said what she’d intended and didn’t waste words or stand on ceremony. As I spread the ashes in her beloved garden, I couldn’t help but think that my canine might roll in them the first chance she got. Considering the love between the two of them, I guess that wouldn’t be the worst thing, although the idea of bathing human bits off the dog made this whole experience even more dreadful than it had been thus far.

“Are you all right, Randi?” I figured Jenny knew I wasn’t, but it was sweet of her to ask.

“Just trying to get the rest of this out.” I tilted the container and shook it a little, careful not to inhale. Fortunately, there wasn’t a strong breeze today. Ashes didn’t spread nearly as well in real life as they did in the movies.

“Here, let me help.” Jenny tilted the heavy container more and shook it a little, causing several clumps to tumble out onto my open-toed shoe. I made a face and shook my foot.

“Sorry.” I noticed Jenny suppress a small grin.

It was a weird and morbid situation. Thelma would have appreciated the strange humor here. I replaced the lid once the container was empty and set it on the edge of the porch. “There. It’s done. So glad it’s done.”

It had taken this whole week to get the ashes back from the crematorium. I’d been living in limbo waiting for them. The entire time, I’d moped, cried, and revisited the night before Thelma had passed, trying to figure out if she’d shown any signs of illness or changes in behavior.

I hadn’t gone for a run once this past week as I’d done most days of my adult life. I knew I would likely feel better, at least physically, if I did. Maybe later.

Tomorrow, finally, would be my appointment with my mother’s lawyer.

“The garden is gorgeous.” Jenny pulled me out of my thoughts, causing me to look around the yard.

The grass was nearly green now that the springtime weather had finally arrived, and there were daffodils and tulips pushing their way in the raised beds all around. I nodded at Jenny’s comment. Thelma had known the name of every plant and shrub she’d ever encountered. We’d ordered seeds online and patronized garden centers and nurseries outside of town. Thelma had dedicated years to curating our outdoor space into this amazing showplace. Sadly, no one ever saw it. It was our private wonderland.

I would never see a plant, tree, or flower again without reliving our many memories together, side by side, planting and digging. That made me sniffle—again.

Jenny hovered, likely uncertain whether to mother me or let me be. I was a little funny about physical contact. “When will I stop crying?” I asked, hoping for a good, solid answer.

Jenny sighed. She was trying to therapy me because she knew I’d not had any experience with death. “Things are super raw right now. You’ll work into managing the strong reactions as they hit you.”

“I’m going to take your word for that.” I was sure she might be right eventually. But not yet. It was taking a new form of self-control that I hadn’t yet developed to keep it all in check right now.

We sat on the porch together in the Adirondack chairs Thelma and I had refinished last year, the same ones where Thelma and I had sat almost every non-rainy evening since then. I remembered her teasing me that I should stick to art rather than refinishing furniture. That gave me another hard punch in the gut.

“Do you want me to go with you to the appointment with the lawyer? I can make it work.”

I dreaded the meeting. I had a strange feeling that after it, my life would never be so simple as it had living here with Thelma, and as much as I hated to inconvenience Jenny, I conceded it would probably be a tough day. “I would appreciate it, Jenny.”

“Sure thing. I’ll pick you up at nine thirty.”

I inhaled deeply, almost breathing my mother in the air. Her presence here was strong. There were so many questions left unanswered between us.

“Do you think I’ll find out anything new tomorrow?” I stared at the beauty around me and wondered how things might change.

Jenny knew about me and what I knew of my history, so I didn’t need to explain what I meant by that. “It’s about time to learn something new, don’t you think?”

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Showing up from the dead is best done in person…

Thirteen years ago, teenager Sadie Brubaker disappeared from her small Georgia town without a trace. Sheriff Chase Blackburn was a young deputy who worked the case diligently, refusing to give up even when others did. Her disappearance haunts him still, making him question the town and his law enforcement skills. Then one afternoon, astonishingly, Sadie, still heart-breakingly beautiful, arrives with no memory and a suitcase full of questions.

When her mother dies, Sadie discovers her entire life is a lie. Her “mother” found her traumatized and injured at a bus stop—a teen with no memory and created an instant family. Sadie knew she had amnesia but never why, so she sets out for the town she doesn’t remember, determined to dig up the answers.

Sadie and the sheriff work together to solve the puzzle pieces of her life so she can understand who she was, decide who she wants to be, and if they can have a future together.

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Meet the Author:

Susan Sands grew up in a real life Southern Footloose town, complete with her senior class hosting the first ever prom in the history of their tiny public school. Is it any wonder she writes Southern small town stories full of porch swings, fun and romance?

Susan lives in suburban Atlanta surrounded by her husband, three young adult kiddos and lots of material for her next book.
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