The Matawapit Family by Maggie Blackbird Book Tour and Giveaway :)

The Matawapit Family Series Book 2
by Maggie Blackbird
Genre: Contemporary Inspirational Romance

A single woman battles to keep her foster child from his newly-paroled father—a dangerous man she used to love.
Bridget Matawapit is an Indigenous activist, daughter of a Catholic deacon, and foster mother to Kyle, the son of an Ojibway father—the ex-fiancĂ© she kicked to the curb after he chose alcohol over her love. With Adam out on parole and back in Thunder Bay, she is determined to stop him from obtaining custody of Kyle.

Adam Guimond is a recovering alcoholic and ex-gangbanger newly-paroled. Through counselling, reconnecting with his Ojibway culture and twelve-step meetings while in prison, Adam now understands he’s worthy of the love that frightened him enough to pick up the bottle he’d previously corked. He can't escape the damage he caused so many others, but he longs to rise like a true warrior in the pursuit of forgiveness and a second chance. There's nothing he isn't willing to do to win back his son--and Bridget.

When an old cell mate’s daughter dies under mysterious circumstances in foster care, Adam begs Bridget to help him uncover the truth. Bound to the plight of the Indigenous children in care, Bridget agrees. But putting herself in contact with Adam threatens to resurrect her long-buried feelings for him, and even worse, she risks losing care of Kyle, by falling for a man who might destroy her faith in love completely this time.

Adam’s throat wouldn’t stop constricting. A hard ball formed at the base of his neck. This visit was about his son. If he looked at Bridget again in the sleeveless blouse baring her sleek arms that she used to wrap around his shoulders, or the tight pants draping her slim thighs she’d spread wide for him, or the sexy high-heeled sandals giving him a peek at her red-painted toenails she’d caressed across his calf, or her red-painted nails she’d scratched across his back, it’d be all over for him. He’d close his mind to her thick, long, black hair, the delicate bone structure of her face, shining midnight eyes, and sensual lips. Kyle kept quivering, gaping at Adam. His son’s buzz cut must have been Bridget’s idea. Before his incarceration, Adam hadn’t allowed scissors to touch his only child’s black hair. Now was the time to put his anger management classes to use. If he’d been on the outside, Kyle’s hair would be halfway down his back by now. Using the voice of the past, the one reserved for his boy that was a good three octaves higher and sweeter than maple syrup, Adam offered what he hoped was a dazzling smile and said, “Hey. You had a birthday, didn’t you?” Kyle nodded. “What’cha got there?” Adam pointed at the bag. “A doughnut. Mommy…Mommy let me get one.” Kyle’s tiny voice shook, barely a whisper. “For our next visit, I’ll bring cookies. I make a mean chocolate chip cookie.” “I…I…” The little guy kept trembling like Adam was some monster from a bad kiddie cartoon. Adam fished the toonie from his pants pocket. He must act quick or tears would erupt from his boy, straight in front of the note-taking Hawk, who’d probably slam the brakes on Adam’s visits. “Want a pop? We can get whatever you like.” Lower lip trembling, Kyle sadly shook his head. He shifted, stealing a peek at Bridget. “You wanna sit over here? There’s some coloring books.” Adam pointed at the round table and tiny chairs. “N-no.” Kyle stared at his running shoes with the words Z Men emblazoned on the sides. Defeat dragged Adam’s shoulders downwards. He forced his sunken chest outwards. Help me, Creator. Help me and my boy reconnect. He sat on the floor cross-legged, having done this tons of times when Kyle had been small. Under his breath, Adam hummed the Ojibway morning song. Kyle squinted. A light glowed bathed Adam’s insides. “That’s neat.” Kyle’s soft words echoed against Adam’s ears. He kept singing and held out his hands for the big test. Kyle shifted and sat cross-legged, too. His small hands shook, but he wrapped his fingers around Adam’s. Their first contact in almost four years. The warmth of Kyle’s hands, the boy’s smooth palms, and the trust he’d shown by holding hands almost melted Adam’s scarred heart. He sang the last words of the song and squeezed Kyle’s fingers. “Do you go to powwows? Do you wear feathers?” Hope beat against Adam’s ribcage. They did stand a chance of becoming father and son. “You did. I brought you with me. I put ’em right here.” Adam tapped the back of Kyle’s head where he used to attach the roach of porcupine hairs and the two feathers fastened to the spreader. “I…I did? Wow. Can I wear it again?” Anticipation clung to Kyle’s question. “You’ll need a new one. The old one’s too small.” Adam had better find a woman at the Kitchi-Gaming Friendship Center to make a northern traditional dance outfit for Kyle. As for money, he’d dig into his precious savings, what he’d stashed away for his new life with Kyle, for new regalia. From the corner of his eye, he stole a peek at Bridget’s tight ruby-red lips. Her frigid glare was as hard as any man’s on the range in the pen. “I hear you want to be an altar server.” Kyle’s buzzed head bobbed. His long, white teeth gleamed. “I start grade two when summer’s done. Mom said when I do…um…the bread of Christ thing, I can help Father Arnold at church. It’s a really important job.” He came off his butt, leaning forward. “Uncle Emery said when he was my age he did it. He…he’s not gonna be a priest anymore. I have a new uncle now. Uncle Darryl. Uncle Emery got married. He married Uncle Darryl.” “Your mom told me in her last letter.” “Mom said you finished the big school.” “Big school?” “Where the big kids go.” “Oh, high school.” Adam had better take a refresher on kid speak. “Yep. Dad finished high school when he was away.” “Where’d you go?” Kyle tilted his head and puckered his lips. “Why’d you go away?” Adam inched his hand forward and stroked Kyle’s fuzzy head of prickly hair. When the boy didn’t draw back, Adam’s breathing seemed to simmer like the relaxing shower he had last night. “We’ll talk about it another time. I want you to understand I didn’t want to leave or go away that long.” “Then why’d you go?” Kyle’s large eyes drooped at the corners. “I had to. Sometimes we gotta do things we don’t wanna. But I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere.” The sharp intake of breath belonged to Bridget. Adam looked over his shoulder at his ex-fiancĂ©e’s rigid jaw and eyes colder and harder than onyx. She didn’t believe him? She believed he’d return to his old ways? He not only wanted Kyle back, he wanted Bridget back. They were the reason Adam had kept his head low in the pen. As the counselor had said, Adam deserved happiness like anyone else. This time he wouldn’t run in fear from what Creator offered. And Creator was offering Adam a second chance—his son and a new life with Bridget. 

The Matawapit Family Series Book 1
Genre: Contemporary M/M Inspirational Romance

It’s been ten years since Emery Matawapit sinned, having succumbed to temptation for the one thing in his life that felt right, another man. In six months he’ll make a life-changing decision that will bar him from sexual relationships for the rest of his life.

Darryl Keejik has a decade-long chip on his shoulder, and he holds Emery’s father, the church deacon, responsible for what he’s suffered: the loss of his family and a chance at true love with Emery. No longer a powerless kid, Darryl has influence within the community—maybe more than the deacon. Darryl intends on using his power to destroy Deacon Matawapit and his church.

Hoping to save the church, Emery races home. But stopping Darryl is harder than expected when their sizzling chemistry threatens to consume Emery. Now he is faced with the toughest decision of his life: please his devout parents and fulfill his call to the priesthood, or remain true to his heart and marry the man created for him.

This is very erotic book about a spiritual journey.

Darryl squeezed the accelerator on the four-wheeler and leaned right. The machine whipped through the turn. Gravel spit up from beneath the tires. Auntie had a lot of nerve questioning his loyalty after all he’d done for the Traditionalists Society. Couldn’t she understand Emery’s friendship had nothing to do with the group? The same went for Clayton, who’d spent the day tracking down Darryl. One thing about the reserve—everyone stuck their noses where they didn’t belong. He should put a roll of super soft on his desk so the reserve knew what toilet paper brand he used. Thick brush and trees peppered the shoreline at the Grassy district. The interior consisted of long, wispy grass and rolling dips. Long ago, Auntie had said the trees were cut to make the first log homes on the reserve. Once he crested the swell, the big white church and rectory appeared. Emery stood at the end of the driveway. He’d saved Darryl a ring of the buzzer since someone else couldn’t wait to start their evening. He wants this as much as I do. Before the four-wheeler rolled to a stop, Emery attempted to throw his long leg over the seat. “What’s the rush?” This was like old times. “Let’s go.” Emery climbed on the back. When his warm thighs spooned Darryl’s hips, he squeezed his fingers and hit the accelerator. Since he’d hadn’t shifted gears, the machine jumped at the same time as his heart. Emery slammed into Darryl’s back. He sucked in a big breath and pressed his foot on the clutch. He’s studying to become a priest. He asked for friendship and nothing else. “Sorry.” Darryl made a U-turn. “No problem.” Emery cleared his throat. “Where should I put my hands?” What an insane question to ask. How about where you used to put them? Where you were always putting them? Darryl stifled his chuckle. “Wherever you want.” Emery chortled. “Um... sure.” He slid his palms over Darryl’s shoulders. Now the joke was on Darryl. He gritted his teeth. Talk about too close for comfort. Dammit, he’d prove Auntie wrong. There was more to their relationship than a good time in bed. They’d always enjoyed summer. The grass was as green as Emery’s eyes. You still fish?” Darryl raised his voice over the machine’s engine. “Yes. When I have time.” The words tickled Darryl’s left ear. Everything happening tonight was reminiscent of the past because Emery had always leaned in to Darryl to speak. He’d better concentrate on the wind in his face, the warm air, and the ever-present smell of the lake, instead of the hot breath that had steamed his skin moments ago. He inhaled. The gasoline’s potent stench cleared his nostrils. There was another scent—Emery’s familiar aroma. In the past, he’d never worn cologne or used odorous soap and still didn’t. Fresh and clean as nature. Darryl guided the four-wheeler through the Central and Rockhead districts. The older people sat on the steps of their box-shaped houses while children played in the overgrown ditches. Many stared at the four-wheeler. Tongues were probably already wagging, calling him a traitor to the Traditionalists Society. Once they were clear of the houses and thick brush, the narrow road leading to the Treaty Grounds greeted them. Alone. At last. 

An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes. When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.

I won’t say which band I’m a member of for privacy’s sake, but I did grow up at a lakeside Ojibway community in Northwestern Ontario, where most of my family and my husband’s family still live (we’re in the country—a half hour from the rez). Over the years, I watched this community grow technologically and physically. As a child, there was no indoor plumbing. Everyone used outhouses (there are still First Nations communities that live this way). Nor did the reserve have street lighting. The only light came from the houses. I’m too young to remember, but we had an oil stove for our main source of heat, just like in the Matawapit Family Series (mind you they use a woodstove). Houses were paper thin, so I guess we bunked in the living room together on Mom and Dad’s mattress during cold winter nights to keep warm. All six of us. Mom. Dad. Older brother. Older sister. Me. Younger sister. And the family dog. We always had pets. The lake was our playground. All reserves in my Treaty area are built around lakes or on the main rivers. Just think of Northwestern Ontario as water world. If you don’t watch where you’re going, you’ll trip and fall into a lake or river—there are so many up this way. This is also considered part of the Boreal forest, so there are tons of forests. Or as we call it—the bush. The reserve has a powwow ground, golf course, arena, gas station, restaurant, health centre, pharmacy, church, band office aka administration centre, recreation building, police building, bingo hall, senior centre, baseball diamond, hockey rink, fire station, office building (the old Indian Residential School refurbished), and an education building that is in the process of being built. There are different geographic areas, such as the main part of the rez, a sub-division, etc. A highway crosses through the reserve, along with the railroad. We’re a stone’s throw from town. Maybe a five-minute drive. We’re far from isolated, but a lot of reserves are. Being so close to the town, we attended school there. If you’re an outdoor person, you’d love it up this way. With so many lakes, activities take place outside, such as fishing, camping, hunting, trapping, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing, heading to the cabin for the weekend, and anything else related to the outside. We don’t say “cottage country” like they do in Southern Ontario. We think of cabins as cabins. They’re situated on lake islands or on the mainland. The United States is just across the river that divides the two countries. 

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  1. Thank you very much for hosting me. I really appreciate it. Love how you set up the post. It looks awesome. :)


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