Did That Really Happen?

Right before A Rose for Sergei was published, I found myself questioning if I had the courage to make my book public.  Our story is deeply personal; one I thought I would keep to myself forever.  My book was complete, it was edited, it was proofed, and it was approved by the Department of Defense prepublication office.  So what was the holdup?  Indecision!  I needed to make my decision about pushing that all mighty “send” button on my computer.  That one button approved my final copy of my book.  But still, for some reason, I hesitated.

After reading about certain events in Sergei Kourdakov’s autobiography, The Persecutor, some people have questioned, “Did that really happen?”  I understand that, his story does seem unbelievable.  I will admit that I’m one of those “show me” skeptical people.  However, having met Sergei in person and hearing his story first hand, I do believe that what he wrote about really did happen.  Enough so, that I wrote a book about our time together.  In defense of Sergei, I felt a responsibility to speak out because I knew his story to be true.

A few procrastinating days later, as I was getting ready for the day, thoughts were still racing through my mind—what on earth should I do, publish or not publish?  What happened immediately after my question is a scene right out of fiction books.  Somehow a tube of lip gloss on the bathroom vanity took a flying leap to the floor.  I was nowhere near it when it happened.  I didn’t bump it because I would have knocked over nail polish bottles to reach it.  It didn’t roll off because it was in the middle of two other tubes of lip gloss.  There was no explanation for what happened, and yet I saw the lip gloss flip off the counter.  Did that really happen? I wondered.  It is one of those strange happenings for which there is no possible explanation.  I had a good laugh and I have to admit it did lighten my spirits.  Shortly after that I went to my computer and pushed the “approve and send” button to publish my book.

A Bittersweet Love Story | The Persecutor & A Rose for Sergei

My book, A Rose for Sergei, is the story of my time together with Soviet defector Sergei Kourdakov.  It is a true story that I have kept to myself for over forty years.  I have been blogging for almost two years now, and I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I want readers to understand that my book is very different from my blog.  Whereas some blogs turn into a book, I have kept my blog and book separate.  You will see an entirely different side of Sergei in the book.  For that reason, I am offering my eBook at a special discount price for three days only this week.

I always appreciate it when someone posts a review on Amazon.  Quite simply, that is how people discover your book.  The following Amazon review describes A Rose for Sergei perfectly!

A bittersweet love story . . .

I truly enjoyed this book.  I found it be a bittersweet love story between a young American woman and a former KGB Agent who escaped a life he didn’t want and could no longer face.  It’s a true story of courage, sacrifice and belief….

What I loved most is this is a true story, however, it reads like Fiction.  I had to keep reminding myself, this is real…this happened.  I loved how the author made you feel like you were back in the early ‘70s when reading it.  True talent transports a reader to another world and that’s how it felt.

I could feel the fear.  I could feel the love.  I could feel the heartbreak.

—Review from Tara

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Amazon eBook Special Coming Soon!

A Rose for Sergei

Is Available for Just $1.00

On March 20 – March 22, 2015

Click here to purchase from Amazon!

Some Secrets are Meant to be Shared

On the back of the book cover for A Rose for Sergei it states:  “After more than forty years, K. Kidd shares this never-before-told story about Sergei Kourdakov.”  Some may find that statement hard to believe, but it literally means I never told anyone what it was really like to have known Sergei personally—to hear his story first hand, to laugh with him, to dance in his arms.  I never told anyone that I caught a glimpse of the pain from his past and his dreams of a new future in America.  I never told anyone, family or friends, how horrible it was to stand heartbroken in a Washington DC cemetery and say goodbye to Sergei.  He was only twenty-one.

I already know your next question.  Why did I keep it all to myself?  I think you have to understand that when Sergei and I met there was a little something called the “Cold War” going on at the time.  We dated during the era of the superpower struggle between the USA and the USSR.  People in both countries were frightened.  If I mentioned that I had met a Russian defector, some people walked away from me, especially after I said Sergei died from a tragic accident.  Then there were those who didn’t believe me.  I presume the whole story seemed too farfetched for them.  Thus, I learned it was best to keep our story to myself.  I didn’t talk about Sergei anymore.  I kept everything a secret.

Dreams are meant for sharing.  Secrets are meant for keeping.  But reality plays a trick on us sometimes.  The truth is that some dreams are meant for keeping, they are never realized.  And some secrets are meant to be shared.  When Sergei’s life story was being questioned I felt I needed to speak out for him, even after forty years.

It's Never All About You

I don’t usually watch reality TV shows but I will admit to watching The Bachelor.  In one of the recent episodes I was taken aback by what one woman had to say about the tragedy of losing her husband and the excitement of being on TV.  And then, in the next breath, she smiled and said, “Isn’t my story amazing?”  She was referring to starring on the TV show and hopefully finding a new love.  I do understand the need to move on.  But mixing the two words together, “tragedy and amazing,” did not sit well with me at all.  It made me cringe.  Maybe it was a poor editing choice by the producers of the show, or perhaps it was intentional, what the producers were aiming for.  Whatever the reason, I was disheartened that the story line was at the deceased husband’s expense.

As I listened to the young woman’s story, I thought about Sergei Kourdakov.  How could I not?  I can’t think of anything more tragic than what happened to Sergei.  He lost both parents when he was a young child.  He was raised in Soviet orphanages and molded to fit into a system he did not completely grasp at the time.  When Sergei was so very close to finding his dream in the United States, it was all taken away in an instant.

If I were to use the same words from that TV show, this is what I would say, “Sergei Kourdakov was an amazing young man.  He accomplished more in his few short years than many others would accomplish in their lifetime.  It was a tragedy that he died so young.”

Reality TV or not . . . it’s never all about you.

Book Giveaway for: A Rose for Sergei

I recently joined Goodreads (Goodreads.com is a free web site for book lovers) and created an author's page with them.  I like the fact that readers can submit questions via the "Ask the Author" section.  From the email I receive I know a lot of you have questions about Sergei Kourdakov.  As time allows, I will do my best to answer your questions.  One of the features at Goodreads is their book giveaway...as in free!  At this time, I am happy to announce that I will be giving away 5 signed copies of my book through the "Goodreads Giveaway" program.

Enter now for a chance to win a free signed copy of

A Rose for Sergei

Giveaway dates:  February 15 – February 28, 2015

Five copies available!

Giveaway available for the following countries:  US, Canada, Great Britain, Australia

Click here - Promotional Book Giveaway at Goodreads.com

When page opens, scroll down to “Win a copy of this Book” and enter for a chance to win.

Good Luck!

Captivated By Him

The letters I receive from female readers reveal that they either had a crush on Sergei or felt attracted to him.  I can certainly relate to that.  Everyone has such wonderful things to say about Sergei.  It doesn’t surprise me since Sergei had an outgoing personality.  His enthusiasm for his new life in the U.S. was always apparent.  Sergei would often say whatever was on his mind and his honesty was refreshing, something we weren’t used to hearing.

When I met with my former boss this past year, we shared a lot of interesting and tender memories.  Sergei had stayed with the Logie family for a short time and he reminded me that both of his very young daughters had developed crushes for Sergei.  He also told me an amusing anecdote about the time he and Sergei were leaving a meeting in the Pentagon.  “Sergei walked up to a young woman in the hallway and told her that she was very pretty.”  Mr. Logie laughed as he recalled the story, “She was quite surprised by that.  She didn’t know what to say and kept on walking . . . away from us!”

I remember how Sergei asked me to go out with him, only a few hours after we met.  He sat on the edge of my desk at work, leaned over and quietly said, “I would like for you to go out with me on Saturday.”  It wasn’t a question.  I liked Sergei’s outspoken approach.  Captivated!  I like that word.  It’s a good descriptive word, as is enthralled, fascinated, or awestruck.  You could use any or all of those adjectives when talking about Sergei Kourdakov.  He had that effect on everyone.  Whether you met Sergei in person or read his book, people were captivated by him.

Mind over Matter

On a bright, Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago I suddenly had an impulsive desire to clean up my home office.  It is the room I write in.  It’s a small room, tucked away at the far end of the house, with a large picture window on one side.  The walls are painted a warm, soft yellow.  It’s peaceful, a great place to write and work, most of the time.

Something happened to that room while I was writing A Rose for Sergei.  My neat, tidy room gradually morphed into a catch-all cluttered pile of stuff over this past year.  Stuff to sort through, papers to read, gift wrapping paper and ribbons piled higher and higher.  But I avoided it all as I wrote, focusing only on my book, my eyes glued to the computer monitor.  Given the choice to straighten up the room or write, writing always won.

Back to that Sunday afternoon . . . I started picking up and throwing out papers with a vengeance that day.  Who does this on a Sunday, on a day off?  But for some unknown reason, I kept at it.  After a few hours had passed it hit me like a brick wall.  What I had been trying to avoid brought me to an abrupt stop.  Now I understood the reason I needed to keep busy.  The choice was not one I consciously made.  It was January 11, the anniversary of Sergei Kourdakov’s funeral.