Three shelves claim Poison Kisses, and the combination is telling: memoir, crime, and personal development. Work that lands in all three at once is almost always the same kind of work, in which something happened to somebody and the telling of it became the way through.
Karen Teasdale reads her own writing, which reinforces the impression. Ten hours in your own voice is an act of ownership; a performer can carry a story, but only the person who lived it can pause in exactly the right places. The personal development tag suggests the account does not end at the worst of it, and that some part of the book is concerned with what comes after.
Our catalogue holds the work and leaves the rest to the listener, which feels appropriate for a title of this sort.