Blessed by the Best: My Journey to Canton and Beyond by Brian Dawkins, Michael Bradley Guest Review!

Blessed by the Best: My Journey to Canton and Beyond by Brian Dawkins, Michael Bradley (Contributor)

Publisher:  Camino Books, Inc; 1st edition (August 30, 2021)
Category: Memoir, Football Biographies, Sports, Inspirational
Tour dates: June 27-July 14, 2022
ISBN: 978-1680980257
Available in Print and ebook, 256 pages

  

Description Blessed By the Best by Brian Dawkins

Drafted by the Philadelphia Eagles in 1996, Dawkins fought to elevate not only his own game but that of his entire team. He sweat, bled, and dominated through sixteen season in the NFL all the way into the Hall of Fame, but not for a moment did he believe his strength alone brought him that glory. Every step of the way the Lord had his back. From coaches that wanted to break him to defeats and bitter lessons in humility, his career is a testament to his faith and an homage to the countless people that helped him along the way.

In the wake of his success, Dawkins comes forward to describe his journey to become one the best safeties in the NFL. Physical training wouldn’t cut it. Blessed by the Best follows Dawkins trials to train his mind and faith along with his skill. As a nervous kid from Jacksonville, he never dreamed of one day standing in front of a crowd to accept that golden jacket. But one way or another, he made it. Dawkins tells his story straight, unafraid of exposing his own weaknesses; his over competitive spirit that takes losses to hard, the tunnel vision that estranged him from his kids, and the self-doubt that plagued much of his early years. Triumphs, pitfalls, love, and struggles Dawkins shares them all, not for himself, but in gratitude of those who have helped him along the way.

“I had been blessed by the best. First, that meant the Lord, who has blessed me with so much. It also meant all those people and things around me that I believe were the best for me. Maybe they weren’t the best for somebody else. Your best may not be my best. That’s fine. Everything that has happened to me has been to bring out the best in me. Even the toughest, hardest times in my life were the best things for me. If I hadn’t gone through them, maybe I wouldn’t be the person I am today.”

“This is not a football book. It has football in it, but this is a life tool,” Dawkins told Heavy. “These are things that I have gone through in my life, that others have taught me.”

Excerpt Blessed By the Best by Brian Dawkins

“How Faith Helped Brian Find His Way Out of the Darkness"

 “We are destroying sophisticated arguments and every exalted and proud thing that sets itself up against the [true] knowledge of God. And we are taking every thought and purpose captive to the obedience of Christ.” 2 Corinthians 10:5 (AMP)

 Taking the medicine numbed me to “stinkin’ thinkin’,” but it numbed me in a lot of other ways, too. I didn’t like that feeling. As a matter of fact, I hated it. It wasn’t me. But what it did was pause me just enough to help me find another way to handle my anger and depression. The Word of God. Those seeds of Faith that lay dormant inside me could finally get that living water. I quit the medication cold turkey, which you aren’t supposed to do, but I was feeling like a zombie. Most importantly, I turned heavily to the Bible. Reading, studying for answers, journaling, listening and praying more consistently than I ever had till that point. I went cold turkey on the music I listened to as well. I did that for about a year. Then after that, I just couldn’t go back to some of the vulgar things in it. I no longer felt comfortable listening to them. Since then it’s 100% Gospel or Jazz.

 It was then that I made the final decision to walk with the Lord consistently and live by the word. Since that time, my faith has increased exponentially. I started to seek Him as fully as I knew possible. I was influencedvby the Bible story of Ananias and Sapphira, a married couple who lived during the earliest days of the Church, when all possessions of members were communal and those who gave away their wealth to the Church were praised by other members. Many who did that, like Barnabas, were not looking for the acclaim. They just wanted to help the Church. But Ananias and Sapphira wanted to be congratulated for their gesture, so they sold a piece of property and gave the Apostles—who were the leaders of the Church at the time—part of the sale’s proceeds, while holding some back for themselves. They didn’t necessarily say they were giving all the money they had made, but they gave that impression and were happy to receive the praise and status within the community that brought.

But Peter was able to figure out their scheme. When he con- fronted Ananias and said that he had not lied to men but to God, Ananias died instantly. Soon thereafter, Sapphira came to Peter and refused to be completely honest. She, too, died on the spot. Their sins of pride and self-importance were their downfalls. I made an oath to God to give away some things that I really enjoyed, if He would take that depression away, especially those suicidal thoughts. I wouldn’t hold anything back like Ananias and Sapphira did. Or in my case, engage in certain things for personal pleasure again.

I decided to stop wearing an earring, because that was a sign of vanity for me. I thought it made me look good, so I stopped wearing it. I said I wasn’t going to drink beer or the hard liquor I was drinking ever again. I will have a glass of wine with dinner on occasion, but I haven’t had a drop of beer, or what I deem hard liquor, since that moment. I told the Lord I was going to walk his path completely. And by giving up some of those things, I believed he would reveal himself more to me. He did. Things weren’t perfect, but because I was learning to talk about my feelings, and because I was walking closer to the Lord, I became stronger. And I do understand when it’s all said and done, that oath was for me. When I give my word, I’m going to keep it. He gave me a better understanding on how and what to meditate on.

Finally, believers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, and worthy of respect, whatever is right and confirmed by God’s Word, whatever is pure and wholesome, whatever is lovely, and brings peace, whatever is admirable and of good repute; if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think on these things [center your mind on them, and implant them in your heart]. – Philippians 4:8 (AMP)

 © Blessed by the Best by Brian Dawkins (Pages 101-102)

 Review Blessed By the Best by Brian Dawkins

Guest Review by Laura

A powerful treatise on faith, family, and believing in oneself.

Brian Dawkins was drafted to the Philadelphia Eagles in 1996 and went on to play 16 seasons in the NFL, later joining the Denver Broncos. Coming from Jacksonville, Florida, Dawkins was given a scholarship to Clemson University so that he could play for their team.

Looking back on his career now as an NFL Hall of Famer, Dawkins insists that it was only through his blessings that he was able to achieve such success. Crediting his friends, family, and God with his achievements, Dawkins writes about how to properly use all of the blessings that you are given every day to the best of their advantage.

This is the kind of book that any reader will get something out of, and some readers will get quite a lot. Dawkins' uses his life experience to provide advice on everything from public speaking to connecting with your children, and so many things in between. I particularly appreciated the part where he wrote about suffering from panic attacks while he was making television appearances and how he was able to overcome them by using Lamaze breathing that he learned while his wife was pregnant. These are the kinds of interesting details that give 'Blessed By the Best,' a very special kind of magic.

If you're on the fence about reading this because you're not a football fan or you don’t believe in God, I say, pick it up! You won't regret it and Dawkins' fascinating perspective just might teach you something about yourself along the way! 

About Brian Dawkins

Brian Dawkins entered the NFL in the second round of the 1996 draft and has since achieved 1,131 tackles, 37 achieved passes, 26 recorded sacks and 19 fumble recoveries, which has earned him a place in the NFL Hall of Fame. Out of his 16 career seasons, Dawkins spent 13 with the Eagles before signing as an unrestricted free agent with the Denver Broncos in 2008. Despite the team change, Dawkins still holds several team records for the Eagles, and as of 2012 his jersey number 20 has become one of only nine to be retired in the history of the franchise.

Website: https://briandawkins.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/briandawkinssr/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/BrianDawkins

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Unconditional: A Love Story by Shon Book Blitz and Giveaway! #Unconditional #shon #XpressoTours @XpressoTours

 

Unconditional: A Love Story
Shon

Publication date: May 10th 2022
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Charli is everything Damian ever wanted.

Captivated from the moment they met, he allowed her to set the tone for their summer fling.

But when the summer was over and he wanted more, he soon found out that maybe his feelings were one-sided.

That was two years ago and he’s still stuck on Charli. He needs to move on.

A lot has changed since they last saw each other, but Damian can’t shake the what-ifs. And the moment they cross paths again he knows his heart still belongs to the elusive woman who stole it the first time he laid eyes on her.

Who’s to say they won’t get it right this time around?

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

prologue.
summer2019

“We need to talk.”

Well, shit. That’s not good, Charli thought to herself as she continued pulling on her shorts.

She couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear those four fateful words from a boyfriend or a fuck buddy.

I guess I’m about to find out, was her wry thought as she finished zipping up the distressed jean shorts that barely covered her ass. With her eyes darting around the room to avoid eye contact with the man who claimed they needed to talk, she located one of her gold hoops on the rug.

Following her avoidant eyes, the other occupant of the room bent to pick it up before she had the chance.

“Thanks,” Charli spoke lowly as their fingers brushed during the exchange.

The warmth of his fingers led to a sharp inhale that she couldn’t even hide.

“Did you hear me?” the beautiful man in front of her wanted to know. “I said we need to talk,” he reiterated. Just in case.

But she’d heard him loud and clear the first time.

Sighing, Charli took a step back and shoved the earring into her pocket instead of trying to put it on right now.

“I heard you,” she said, trying to veil the worry in her voice.

What could Damian possibly want to talk about? And why couldn’t his timing be better? They’d just finished…making each other very happy. His scent still surrounded her and captivated her senses.

But now, the knots in her stomach quickly pushed her to forget the pleasure she’d just experienced.

“What do we need to talk about?” she finally asked meeting his green eyes. They were usually enchanting and full of lust when they were together, but now he looked…panicked?

No, it couldn’t be. Not cool, calm Damian.

Unless…

Had he found a girlfriend? Was he about to end their arrangement and politely tell her to get on with her life?

The thought wasn’t a pleasant one, but Charli couldn’t really blame him.

As an Ivy League dropout and ex-socialite, she didn’t really feel like she had much to offer aside from a good time.

She winced inwardly and vowed to deal with the origins of that problematic thought later. Much later. Not now when she was standing face to face with the man she’d been trading orgasms with all summer.

Damian regarded her from his towering height of six-two and even though she was five-eight she felt miniscule under his unwavering gaze.

“It’s about us,” he revealed, “I need to talk to you about what we’re doing.”

Charli gulped but didn’t break eye contact. She could do this. She could have a civilized, adult conversation with someone she shared every inch of her body with on an almost daily basis at this point.

“What about us? I like what we’re doing.” Charli pushed her hair away from her face. She hated the sensation of stray strands tickling her cheeks.

Damian exhaled sharply and gave a faint nod. “Yea, I did too. Until recently.”

Ouch.

Charli straightened her shoulders and prepared for the next words, somehow knowing they would pack a devastating blow.

But nothing could have prepared her for what he said next.

Shon is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Wilmington. She used her degree in English Literature for eight years to teach English all around the world. She has recently returned home to the States and now she spends all her time reading or writing down her wildest daydreams.

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More Precious Than Gold (The Hearts of Gold Trilogy, Book 2) By Renee Yancy Blog Tour! @YancyRenee @maryanneyarde @reneeyancy @coffeepotbookclub #HistoricalFiction #HistoricalRomance #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub

 Book Title: More Precious Than Gold

Series: The Hearts of Gold Trilogy, Book 2

Author: Renee Yancy

Publication Date: 28th June 2022

Publisher: Vinspire

Page Length: 345 Pages

Genre: Historical Romance

A young woman refuses to become a pawn in her grandmother’s revenge scheme and forgoes a life of wealth and royalty to pursue a nursing career as America enters WWI and the Pandemic Flu of 1918 wreaks havoc in New York City

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INFLUENZA EPIDEMIC HITS CAMP DEVENS 2,000 Soldiers Are Stricken and Washington is Asked to Send More Doctors and Nurses —The New York Times, September 15, 1918

Eleven days later, the first influenza cases were admitted to Bellevue. Kitty set up an isolation unit in Ward A for a young sailor home on leave from France and two workmen from the Port of New York. All three men were in their early twenties, had high fevers, and complained that their lungs hurt. Kitty worked to make them comfortable, sponging them, offering fluids, and administering aspirin powders.

 All three were worse the following morning. The sailor tossed and moaned on his bed and screamed when he was touched. The high fevers continued and even morphine didn’t seem to help much. Kitty noticed a blue tint creeping over their skin, starting with the face and moving down over the chest. Bloody mucus drained from their noses and the sailor had it running from his ears. When Kitty walked into the isolation ward on the third day after their admission, the three beds were empty.

“Died about six a.m.” Miss Simpson, a probationer for two weeks, scrubbed the bare mattress. “One right after the other. It was awful.”

That seemed odd. Influenza typically had a longer course, and fatalities were usually limited to the very young and the elderly. These three young men had been in the prime of their manhood, well-nourished, and strong.

Miss Simpson dropped the washrag into the bucket. “If this is what it’s about, then I don’t think nursing is for me.” She glanced about the ward of men filled with influenza patients—coughing, vomiting, moaning—and shuddered. “I’m going to withdraw today and go home.”

“Better to find out early.” Kitty gave her a sympathetic smile. “But this is unusual. You’ve had a difficult introduction. Baptism by fire, I think it’s called.”

“Maybe so. But it’s too hot for me.” Miss Simpson picked up the bucket. “Goodbye.”

Nursing wasn’t for everyone, which was certain. And this influenza was different from what Bellevue had seen in the spring. It was alarming, but she didn’t have much time to think about it because Admitting called. Five more men were being admitted for influenza, or as some laypeople called it, the grippe. With the help of the probationers assigned to the ward today, Miss Field and Miss Blake, she got them settled in their beds.

Patrick Murphy, 26, a dock worker.

John Beckley, 33, a printer.

Mason Abraham, 36, a cook.

Aaron Mandel, 30, a piano salesman.

And Ashford Stuart-White, 35, a professor from Columbia University.

Five men from five different walks of life with the same illness. The rest of the shift flew by as Kitty and the probies sponged the men down for their fevers, emptied their spit basins, and tried to administer fluids.

“Miss Blake.” Kitty followed the probie into the dirty utility room. “Be careful when you’re emptying the basins into the hopper. Keep your head back, or turn your face away, so you don’t get splashed with the contents. And make sure you wash your hands well before you return to the patients.”

“Yes, Miss Winthrop.” Miss Blake was a sandy-haired, petite young woman with a no-nonsense attitude. “I’ll be careful.”

It was time to give aspirin again. Kitty went down the line, taking temperatures. There wasn’t one under 103°. Mr. Mandel’s temp was 104.6°.

“My joints hurt something awful, Miss.” He groaned as he turned onto his side. “I’ve never been this sick in my life.”

“Here.” Kitty handed him aspirin and morphine tablets. “Drink the whole glass of water, please. You need the fluids.

 Mandel took the meds and lay back down. “How long is this going to last? I’ve got to get back to work.” He stopped and turned away to cough. “I—I have a family to support.” He fought to draw in some air.

 There was no way to know. Especially if it was the same illness that had struck down the first three men admitted to the isolation unit.

“Rest as much as you can. Drink as much water as you can. That will help.”

He moaned again and then grimaced. “I’m sorry…to make so much noise. I can’t help it.”

“It’s all right. Try to sleep. The morphine will start to help soon.”

At lunchtime, Mr. Murphy and Mr. Beckley seemed a bit better. They were able to take some soup and swallow the aspirin, although both complained of severely sore throats. She made a mental note to get some lozenges for them. Mr. Abraham, a stocky fellow with ropy muscles, had lapsed into semi-consciousness and was difficult to arouse. The spit basin on the bedside table was half full of blood- streaked foamy mucus, and his respirations were wheezy and wet. By the end of the shift, Mr. Beckley was worse, Mr. Mandel was unconscious, and Mr. Abraham was dead, his skin color so dark, he looked black. Kitty performed post-mortem care for him.

What was this deadly disease? What could end the lives of vigorous young men so rapidly?

How were their families even going to recognize them?

Renee Yancy is a history and archaeology nut who works as an RN when she isn’t writing historical fiction or traveling the world to see the exotic places her characters have lived.

A voracious reader as a young girl, she now writes the kind of books she loves to read—stories filled with historical and archaeological detail interwoven with strong characters facing big conflicts. Her goal is to take you on a journey into the past so fascinating that you can’t put the story down. 

When she isn’t writing, Renee can be found in the wilds of Kentucky with her husband and a rescue mutt named Ellie. She loves flea markets and collecting pottery and glass and most anything mid-century modern.

 

 

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Website: https://reneeyancy.com/

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Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Renee-Yancy/e/B00726MJDQ

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Escape Girl by Michelle Dayton Book Release!

Emily Saturn’s world is spinning out of control. When she isn’t working on an impossible lawsuit, she’s trying to avoid her soon-to-be ex-husband, Bobby March. But Bobby is determined to prove to Emily that he can be the man she deserves and has a very creative plan to win her back. Fans of Christina Lauren and Sally Thorne will love Escape Girl, a spicy second chance romance. "The love story itself is stirring and emotional, and Emily and Bobby’s second chance feels well-earned."---

Publishers Weekly review for Escape Girl

Blurb Emily Saturn’s world is spinning out of control. An intellectual property lawyer, she’s gone rogue from her firm, dealing with a major lawsuit against a predatory software company’s CEO pro bono. When she isn’t looking for elusive evidence she can use—legally, of course—she’s trying to avoid her soon-to-be ex-husband, Bobby March. After their whirlwind courtship and wedding, Bobby can’t pinpoint what went wrong between them. He’s been working for months on his new career and personal growth, determined to be the man his wife deserves. Desperate to get her attention, Bobby invites Emily to a series of individually designed virtual escape rooms, each one a moment from their love story. Hopefully, the sexy, romantic trip down memory lane will rekindle their intense connection—and clue him in on how to fix this. Emily has never been able to resist a puzzle. Or, frankly, Bobby. The more she interacts with her husband online, the more she wants to see him again in person. Which is beyond stupid because Emily knows he’s wrong for her. Right?

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Excerpt 

Copyright 2022 Michelle Dayton

One Year Ago

The painting was so ludicrous that I chewed the inside of my top lip—hard enough that the next sip of gin was going to sting. But if I didn’t control my mouth, it was going to shape itself into a judgy, bitchy smirk at our poor hostess’s expense.
The painting was of a woman’s back, butt, and legs as she lounged on a blue velvet settee. It didn’t reveal any part of the subject’s face. But it was clearly supposed to be Selma. Selma was a big fan of strapless gowns and asymmetrical shirts. The triangle of small moles on her left shoulder blade was as familiar to me as the shade of dark pink lipstick always highlighting her formidable lips. The woman in the painting sported an identical isosceles mole triangle, as well as a spill of hair in a variety of blonde shades ranging from honey to platinum. I’d once heard Selma boast that it took three colorists four hours every six weeks to keep her signature blend of hair colors perfect.
I cocked my head as my eyes traveled to the problematic part of the woman in the painting. She may have had Selma’s geometric moles and she may have had Selma’s intricate hair. The ass, however…
“Do you think this painting is a prophecy?” A question spoken so low that only I could hear.
I snapped my gaze away from the painting’s exquisite ass and looked up in surprise at the man suddenly next to me. “Huh?” I didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t surprising as I’d only been back in the Bay Area for a couple of weeks.
I would have remembered him if I’d seen him before. He was one of those unmistakable people. (Us generic-looking people often resent his kind.) He was probably mid-thirties, over six feet tall with thick, golden hair, grown at a shaggy length that would look stupid on most men, but it decidedly did not look stupid on him. He was tan like he’d just come back from a beach vacation, and he had deep smile lines around his eyes and mouth. They were crinkled now around his bright blue eyes.
My own were crinkled too, not with mirth but with confusion. “A prophecy?”
“A prophecy is a prediction, a forecast,” he began, eyes twinkling. Was he teasing or mansplaining?
“Yes, I know what a prophecy is,” I said. Snapped, really. I’d been around at enough of these nights to be familiar with the typical male attendees. The men near my age usually fell into particular categories: boastful start-up tech founders, schmoozy sales and marketing execs, and lots of “I know everything” lawyers. Most of them treated these nights like networking events or auditions for a TED Talk instead of parties.
I’d been so dreading my possible seating partners for dinner that I’d snuck into the dining room to see the place cards when we first arrived. Thank God I was seated next to my father.
“Excellent.” He waved his negroni toward the painted naked lady. “So I was just wondering if this painting is a heads-up from our hostess about certain impending changes.”
Oh. The mischief in his voice made my lips twitch. He’d been teasing, then. This wasn’t some stuffy ibanker or insufferable crypto bro. Inexplicably, this was someone fun.
I raised an eyebrow at him and spoke softly. “Meaning, Selma wants everyone to know that she’ll soon be getting butt implants?”
He grinned down at me, almost with relief, as though he’d been hoping to find someone snarky. “Perhaps the buttock augmentation is already complete.” He pointed directly below the painting. I hadn’t noticed the blue velvet settee against the wall, an identical twin to the one in the portrait. “Perhaps she’ll settle herself right there later and let us compare art to reality.”
It was just too perfect of an image: ludicrous, of course, but if Selma had one too many negronis, you could almost see it happening. Oh God, please let that happen. I’d suffer through twelve boring dinner parties if Selma would cross that bizarre, hilarious line.
A significant snort-laugh erupted from my nose before I could stop it. “Sorry,” I gasped.
His answering laugh was deep and delighted. “Don’t be. I love it when people snort when they laugh. It’s literally one of my favorite things in life.” Well, I loved when people got tears in their eyes at the smallest of chuckles, and right now, there was a sheen of moisture covering his.
“I don’t know you, and I usually know everyone at these things,” he said, like an invitation.
Sigh. Now I would introduce myself, and he would get that look in his eye when he realized who my father was.
I opened my mouth, but to my surprise, he cut me off. “So I asked four different people here who you were and what you’re like.”
My mouth closed abruptly. Why would he do that? Also, I could guess what the four people had said, and they were all sure to be wrong. I swallowed a sigh. “Oh?” This encounter had started so fun. Now I wondered how soon I could excuse myself.
He took a slow sip. “You’re Sven Saturn’s daughter.” Yep. For the entirety of my life, that would be the first—and sometimes the only—thing most people cared about. “You’re intensely smart and have some sort of big, important job.” OK, he totally embellished that point. I’m sure whoever he talked to actually just used the word workaholic. To be fair, that was also correct. Work was my place, my cathedral, my sports arena. Work was home.
He cocked his head. “And you’re very quiet and sweet.”
Of course that’s what they said. Quiet was correct; sweet was not. But when you’re a little shy with a heart-shaped face and round eyes, people always make the leap to sweet. In actuality, Resting Bitch Face would have suited my internal personality much better. I’m sure people were trying to be kind, but why is sweet a good thing to call someone? In our hyperaggressive, competitive world, who the hell wanted to be sweet?
To the man beside me, I ducked my chin. “Well, that was nice of them.” Where was the tray of negronis? Maybe I’d survive this night with a nice little buzz. Or maybe I could put on headphones and go into another room on the pretense of taking a call. I had Netflix on my phone.
His blue eyes were so bright. “It’s bullshit though, right?”
His gaze and forthright tone gave me a buzz that had nothing to do with gin. He tapped his temple. “There’s a lot going on in there, but I’m guessing that very little of it is sweet.”
Correct. Either he was extremely astute or… “Is this your schtick?” I retorted. “Find the quiet girl in the room and make her feel like she’s some sort of secret badass that only you can see?”
He laughed. Hard. A surprised, loud, genuinely elated laugh. I did that, I thought proudly.
“Who are you?” he asked, and suddenly his blue eyes were…intense.
The direct stare right at me, the timbre of his voice, the way he drew a microinch closer. My skin went warm from head to toe and my pulse went thud, Thud, THUD.
I swallowed, and his gaze went to my throat and back to my eyes. He leaned even closer, then apparently realized that was not dinner-party-appropriate, so he backed up so quickly he banged into someone behind him. A slight flush crawled up his jaw as he recovered, but his embarrassment didn’t make him look away or change the intensity of his expression.
Did I do that to him? I wasn’t the kind of woman that made men clumsy, but I could sense it. He felt the thud, Thud, THUDDING too.
“I’m Emily,” I managed, remembering to offer a hand.
His warm hand took hold of mine, not like a greeting shake, but as if he intended to keep it.

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About Michelle Dayton

There are only three things Michelle Dayton loves more than sexy and suspenseful novels: her family, the city of Chicago, and Mr. Darcy. Michelle dreams of a year of world travel – as long as the trip would include weeks and weeks of beach time. As a bourbon lover and unabashed wine snob, Michelle thinks heaven is discussing a good book over an adult beverage.

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