Welcome to the Takeover + Review Blitz for Grandma Ruth Doesn’t Go To Funerals by Sharon Mondragon hosted by JustRead Publicity Tours!
About the Book

Title: Grandma Ruth Doesn’t Go To Funerals
Author: Sharon Mondragon
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Release Date: February 11, 2025
Genre: Contemporary Fiction
Something is brewing in Raeburne's Ferry, Georgia--and it's not sweet tea.
In a small town where gossip flows, bedridden Mary Ruth McCready reigns supreme, doling out wisdom and meddling in everyone's business with a fervor that would make a matchmaker blush. When her best friend has her world rocked by a scandalous revelation from her dying husband, Mary Ruth kicks into high gear, commandeering the help of her favorite granddaughter, Sarah Elizabeth, in tracking down the truth. Finding clues in funeral condolence cards and decades-old gossip dredged up at the Blue Moon Beauty Emporium, the two stir up trouble faster than you can say "pecan pie."
But just when things are starting to look up, a blast from the past waltzes in with an outrageous claim. But as Grandma Ruth always says when things get tough, "God is too big." With him, nothing is impossible--even bringing long-held secrets to light. Grandma Ruth and Sarah just might have to ruffle a whole mess of feathers to do it.
Grandma Ruth doesn’t go to funerals.
It’s not that she gets squeamish or weak-kneed at the sight of a friend or relative laid out. She takes an avid interest in every detail of the deceased, from the tie they put on third cousin twice removed Billy Ray to how Harriet Tilson’s hair turned out. Nor is it that she lacks respect for those who have gone on to glory before her. Grandma Ruth is the kind of person to whom you do not criticize your mother. And it’s not that she prefers to stay at home and watch Jeopardy! Instead. Grandma Ruth is bedridden—has been for the past three years. Much as she would like to, Grandma Ruth isn’t going anywhere.
I am Sarah Elizabeth, Grandma Ruth’s favorite granddaughter. Being her favorite is a dubious honor. It means I’m her favorite to go to the store and buy birthday cards, visit her shut-in friends, and, you guessed it, attend funerals in her place.
Looking back, I realize I’ve been training for funeral duty for quite a while. When I was ten, she taught me how to make macaroni and cheese from scratch to take by the home of the bereaved for the reception. By the time I was eleven, I had learned to write a tasteful and heartfelt condolence note. I attended my first funeral at twelve. (Grandma Ruth wanted to take me sooner, but Mama put her foot down and prevailed for once.) Now that I’m twenty-four, Grandma Ruth considers me not only fully qualified but socially obligated to take her place since she can’t get out anymore. I don’t think I’ve missed a single funeral in Raeburne’s Ferry, Georgia, since she took to her bed.
PURCHASE LINKS: Goodreads | Kregel Publications | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Christianbook
Excerpt
Grandma Ruth doesn’t go to funerals.
It’s not that she gets squeamish or weak-kneed at the sight of a friend or relative laid out. She takes an avid interest in every detail of the deceased, from the tie they put on third cousin twice removed Billy Ray to how Harriet Tilson’s hair turned out. Nor is it that she lacks respect for those who have gone on to glory before her. Grandma Ruth is the kind of person to whom you do not criticize your mother. And it’s not that she prefers to stay at home and watch Jeopardy! Instead. Grandma Ruth is bedridden—has been for the past three years. Much as she would like to, Grandma Ruth isn’t going anywhere.
I am Sarah Elizabeth, Grandma Ruth’s favorite granddaughter. Being her favorite is a dubious honor. It means I’m her favorite to go to the store and buy birthday cards, visit her shut-in friends, and, you guessed it, attend funerals in her place.
Looking back, I realize I’ve been training for funeral duty for quite a while. When I was ten, she taught me how to make macaroni and cheese from scratch to take by the home of the bereaved for the reception. By the time I was eleven, I had learned to write a tasteful and heartfelt condolence note. I attended my first funeral at twelve. (Grandma Ruth wanted to take me sooner, but Mama put her foot down and prevailed for once.) Now that I’m twenty-four, Grandma Ruth considers me not only fully qualified but socially obligated to take her place since she can’t get out anymore. I don’t think I’ve missed a single funeral in Raeburne’s Ferry, Georgia, since she took to her bed.
I am looking forward to reading this one!
ReplyDeletethank you for sharing about Grandma Ruth today :)
ReplyDeleteSounds amazing
ReplyDelete