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Black
Pearls Magazine focuses on writers, authors and poets that are leaving a
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Where Did We Go Wrong?
by Monica Mathis-Stowe
Best friends Gabby, Maxine and Joy protect each other at all costs, even if it means keeping secrets that turn their lives upside down. Gabby has no boundaries when it comes to getting what she wants. She pulls out every trick in the book to keep her daughter’s married father out of their lives but keep his money in her bank account...
Maxine lives for her family but when her husband’s excessive spending lands them in more debt than they can handle, the stress takes a toll on their perfect marriage...
After Joy’s loyalty to her controlling mother causes her to lose the only man she’s ever loved, she marries a man she barely knows. After her wedding, she quickly realizes she made the biggest mistake of her life and it puts everybody she loves in danger. Unfortunately, someone will have to pay the ultimate price with their life.
Chapter 1
The bond between girlfriends, best friends, is unbreakable, Joy thought as she zigzagged and weaved through the Beltway traffic. She drove as fast and as calmly as she could with Gabby huffing and puffing through her labor pains in the passenger seat. Her normally light-skinned complexion turned a pale shade of red with each contraction, but she still managed to look beautiful through all her pain.
oy glanced through her rear-view mirror at Maxine, who had decided to follow Joy and Gabby to the hospital in her minivan, in case she needed to leave to tend to her family. She had already let three cars jump between her minivan and Joy’s car. Since her friend didn’t know how to get to the hospital, Joy thought Maxine would have attempted to follow her more closely. Drivers were definitely taking advantage of her careful driving, with the many “Caution-Baby on Board” stickers plastered to her bumper. She was so far behind, Joy couldn't see her anymore.
When Joy arrived at the hospital’s emergency room entrance, she jumped out of her Toyota Corolla and ran inside the hospital to get help. Within seconds, she returned to the car with a nurse and an orderly pushing a wheelchair. She assisted Gabby into the hospital and left to find Maxine. Back in her car, Joy pulled out her cell phone, and called Maxine.
“Girl, where are you?” Joy asked, trying to sound calm. She didn't want to make timid Maxine more nervous than she already was.
“I’m lost. You were driving so fast, I couldn’t keep up,” Maxine whined.
Joy shook her head. “What exit are you near?”
“I see a hospital sign. Should I take that exit?” Maxine asked anxiously.
Joy sighed in frustration. “Yeah, follow the signs to the hospital. I’m gonna park my car in the garage and meet you in the lobby.”
“Okay. Bye.” Maxine hit the End Call button on her steering wheel as she took the exit.
Joy hung up and sped toward the parking garage. She turned into the first available spot and ran back to the hospital. She didn't want Gabby to be alone when she delivered.
Joy, Maxine, and Gabby had met at Morgan State University in Baltimore, Maryland. Maxine and Joy were roommates. Gabby stayed alone in the dorm room across the hall because her roommate never showed up. Most nights, Gabby didn't like being in her room alone, so she bunked with Maxine and Joy. By the end of their first semester, Gabby's mattress, clothes, and personal belongings were stuffed in Maxine and Joy's already overcrowded dorm room. They got along well and became the best of friends. The following semester, they petitioned the Dean of Housing for a larger dorm room so they could stay together. They wouldn't have it any other way. They became the friends to each other that every woman should have in her life. No matter what they went through, they dealt with it together. They had no idea where they would be without each other.
Back in the hospital, after an exam revealed that Gabby had dilated nine centimeters, she was rushed into a delivery room. She grabbed the rails on the bed and squeezed her eyes shut during another contraction. “Ouch! Ouch! It hurts!” Gabby screamed between deep breaths.
After she was prepped for delivery, the private nurse assigned to her used a white cloth to dab at the sweat beads forming on Gabby's forehead. She smacked the nurse's hand away. The nurse stepped back and glared at Gabby as she crossed her arms over her chest. Gabby's obstetrician, Dr. Fields, entered the delivery room with a comforting smile on his handsome
face. He looked like he was fresh out of medical school.
“Hello, Gabrielle.”
“Hi,” Gabby moaned.
After Dr. Fields examined her, he removed his gloves and went to her bedside. “It looks like you're ready to deliver. Are you ready to meet your beautiful daughter?”
“I'm ready to get this over with!” Gabby looked around the delivery room. “Where are my birth coaches?” She grabbed the doctor's arm and squeezed so hard, her nails went through his skin.
“Oh, God! Ouch!”
Dr. Fields removed Gabby's hand and frowned at the nail imprint she left on his arm. He motioned for the private nurse to come help Gabby while he sat on a stool and rolled himself between Gabby's open legs. He looked at the door when he heard Joy and Maxine walk in. “Looks like your coaches finally arrived.”
“Where have you been? It's time for me to push!” Gabby barked.
“I'm sorry. Maxine got lost, but we're here now so calm down,” Joy said as she walked to Gabby's bed side. “Have you been doing your breathing exercises?”
“Oh, no! I need to go to the bathroom,” Gabby cried.
Maxine brushed Gabby's long hair from her face before she took her place beside Gabby's leg. “Gabby, it just feels like that because it's time for you to deliver.”
“Gabrielle, your coach knows what she's talking about,” Dr. Fields said. “I need you to give me one good push.”
“C'mon, Gabby, push!” Joy put her hand behind Gabby's back the way she had learned in Lamaze class. Maxine pulled Gabby's left leg back while the nurse pulled the right leg. “Don't forget to breathe, Gabby,” Maxine said in a cheery tone.
Gabby fell back after one push. “How much longer? I'm exhausted! Can't you just pull her out!”
“Unfortunately, I can't, Gabrielle. Come on now. It's time for another push.” Dr. Fields looked up at Gabby from between her legs. “I need you to do your part.”
“No! I can't!” Gabby shook her head like a defiant child refusing to obey a parent.
Joy got as close to Gabby's face as she could and screamed, “Get it together, Gabby! Your daughter needs you to push her out! Sit your ass up and push! Now!” Gabby took a deep breath and pushed as hard and as long as she could.
“That was a good one, Gabby. Your daughter's head is almost crowning.” Dr. Fields looked at the monitor for another contraction. Maxine turned around to smile at Gabby. “See, Gabby. I knew you could do it.”
“Gabrielle, I need another good push from you,” Dr. Fields said.
Gabby used all her strength to push again. “It's burning! Why is my vajayjay burning?”
“That's normal, Gabrielle. Don't worry, she's almost out. One more good push and you can meet your daughter.” Joy helped Gabby push while Maxine and the nurse pulled Gabby's legs back as far as they could.
“Oh, my God! She's here!” Maxine exclaimed.
“Is she all right?” Gabby asked as she fell back exhausted.
The delivery room was so quiet. The sound of the nurses suctioning the baby's nose and mouth echoed in the room. Gabby grabbed Joy's hand and squeezed it. Maxine rushed to Gabby's side when she saw worried look on her friend's face. She took her other hand and brought it to her chest as she prayed silently.
“Why isn't she crying?” Gabby asked while trying to stretch her neck to see her baby.
“Give her a minute, Gabrielle,” Dr. Fields said in a calming voice as he pushed the nurses aside to work on the baby. Seconds later, they looked at each other with tears in their eyes when they heard Gabby's baby let out her first whimper. “That's my girl!” Gabby shouted.
An hour later, Gabby was resting comfortably in her private maternity suite. She pushed the button on the remote to raise her bed and adjusted her pillow behind her back. “I can't believe I'm a mother!”
“I can't believe you get a room like this after giving birth. I had to share a room when I delivered both my boys and it didn't look anything like this,” Maxine said. She walked around the room touching the draperies, flat-screen television, and fully stocked refrigerator to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her. Joy was sitting in a chair near the door. She stared at Gabby with a straight face and asked, “Did you call him? Because I'm not calling him for you anymore.”
Gabby avoided Joy's gaze. She took a mirror, comb, and tube of lip gloss out of her purse and began combing through her shoulder-length, chestnut-brown hair. “We worked everything out through our lawyers. He doesn't want to be her father because of his wife and children. I respect that as long as he takes care of my little girl financially,” Gabby replied.
“What is William's role in all of this?” Maxine asked.
William had been Gabby's boyfriend until she broke up with him to start dating Rayshawn Robinson, a quarterback for the Baltimore Ravens. He was better known as R&R in the NFL and to his fans. Gabby knew she hit the jackpot after R&R signed a $75 million-dollar contract with the Ravens. She had one obstacle standing between her and Rayshawn's millions: his family. She stopped using birth control the day R&R signed his new contract. Gabby knew that the best way to get part of his millions was to have his child. She seduced Rayshawn night and day. He didn't complain when she told him to stop using condoms because they felt uncomfortable. He enjoyed spending time with her because she was beautiful and she often left him in tears after they had sex. He enjoyed every bit of what she gave him, so now he needed to pay up.
Gabby looked at Joy and Maxine with a serious expression. “William will be her father. He believes she's his child and that's how we're going to keep it.” Gabby placed the mirror, comb, and lip gloss on the tray attached to her bed. She then shook her head in their direction, waiting for them to agree with her.
“This lie is going to come back and bite you in the ass,” Joy snapped and frowned.
“This is not a good idea, Gabby. This one lie can hurt so many people,” Maxine reasoned. The nurse entered the room with Gabby's newborn baby girl in a white bassinet. She was tightly wrapped in a pink blanket with a pink cap over her head. After the nurse placed the baby in Gabby's arms and left, Maxine and Joy stood on each side of the bed to get a closer look at their new goddaughter.
“She's beautiful, Gabby,” Maxine whispered with tears in her eyes.
“Of course she is, Maxine. I wouldn't make an ugly child,” Gabby declared. “Thank God she takes after my side and not Rayshawn's. I wonder why I even slept with him.” Gabby let out a deep sigh and shook her head.
“Let's keep it real, Gabby. You slept with him for the money.” Joy looked across the bed at Maxine who was shaking her head and smiling in agreement.
Dr. Fields entered the room. Gabby quickly passed the baby to Maxine and sat straight up in the bed, giving the doctor her full attention. Maxine stood beside the bed gently rocking the baby in her arms. Joy stepped away from the bed and walked over to the large picture window so the doctor could have access to Gabby. Joy stared out the window overlooking the parking lot. A couple holding hands was walking across the lot kissing each other every few steps. It made her heart ache for Allen. She wasn't looking forward to calling him and cancelling their plans for the long Memorial Day weekend. She knew he wasn't going to be happy.
“Dr. Fields, are you listening to me?” Gabby shrilled as her light complexion turned an angry shade of red. Dr. Fields was staring at Joy's butt in a pair of tight Guess jeans. Her jet-black curly hair, inherited from her Puerto Rican father, fell down her back, stopping at her narrow waist. He was mesmerized by her caramel complexion and womanly curves. Joy turned around and caught him staring at her. She gave him a polite smile before she stepped out of the room to call Allen.
Dr. Fields kept his eyes glued to Joy's butt until she was gone. “Sorry, Gabrielle… umm, is your friend single?” he asked.
Gabby rolled her eyes at the doctor and reached for the baby. “No! She's been with her boyfriend since they were teenagers.” She whined like a spoiled child who couldn't have her way.
Maxine turned her head and giggled. When the doctor left the room, he saw Joy and smiled at her again. She was having an intense phone conversation so she turned her back to him.
Purchase Where Did We Go Wrong? by Monica Mathis-Stowe
Buy now: http://www.theliterarypublishinggroup.com
Literature & Fiction, Romantic Suspense, Women's Contemporary Fiction
Topics Discussed
in Where Did We Go Wrong?:
Relationships for professional African-American women, domestic abuse, and suicide
Soul, satisfying sex is usually the ultimate weapon. For
Diamond Robinson, it may turn out to be a serious problem. On the surface, she
may appear to be your average beauty, living next door, but Diamond is full of
deceit, mischief, and seduction. She craves good loving so much that she's
willing to do anything, including sleeping with someone you'd least expect. When
her sexcapades spiral of control, one thing leads to another and her lover winds
up dead; leaving everyone she's ever loved against her. Unknowingly, she and her
nymphonic road dogs get themselves mixed up with secrets and lies that lead to
unstoppable turmoil. Sit back and let author C.J. Hudson take you on a ride that
you will never forget!
Purchase Next Door Nympho by CJ Hudson
ISBN-10: 1934230316
ISBN-13: 978-1934230312
About
the Author
Author Christopher Speight, better known to his fans as CJ Hudson was
born in Alabama. He moved to Cleveland, Ohio at a young age, attended Kent State
and later went on to Kaplan Institution acquiring skills to become an
electrician. CJ has become a legend in his own rights with urban hits like
Chedda Boyz, Next Door Nympho, and his highly anticipated title Diary of a
Nympho. He likes to read, write, travel, and spend time with his family. C. J.
is married with two sons.
VIP: Confessions of
a Groupie by Azarel
V.I.P is a very
funny, intriguing, entertaining read. That will have you turning pages like
crazy!
V.I.P.
is an explicit tale of two beautiful women both determined to become very
important people 'by any means necessary'. After living in a world where you re
only cool if you're the wife of an athlete, or a current TV star they are both
suddenly faced with jealousy and lies. Neither realizes ...fame comes with a
high, and sometimes deadly price tag.
Meet India, the star struck, money hungry honey from Brooklyn, who's dead
set on marrying someone well-known....even if she has to steal him from her good
friend. In comes Royce, a tantalizing, sexy singer who s searching for
fame in all the wrong places. Soon her past catches up with her and things
spiral out of control. By hook, crook, or the good book, one of these ladies
will fall hard.
If
you think you love Basketball Wives, hold onto your seat...V.I.P will blow your
mind.
About the Author
Azarel, CEO of Life Changing Books is
a former teacher who received her BS degree from University of Maryland Eastern
Shore, and earned a Masters of Arts in teaching degree from Bowie State
University in 1999. Her love for writing sparked a career change in 2002. She
resigned from her teaching tenure in the Prince George s County public school
system to fulfill her dream of becoming an author. After writing her first
novel, A Life to Remember written in an attempt to help change lives of young
men, Azarel launched her own publishing company, Life Changing Books (LCB). Now
with over fifty-four titles published to date, LCB is one of the most successful
African-American publishing companies in the publishing industry.
Bestselling
titles under LCB's roster includes Azarel's titles, Bruised and Daddy's House,
along with the Dirty Divorce series, the Millionaire Mistress series and the One
Night Stand series. As a wife, and mother of two Azarel enjoys spending time
with family and friends and lending support to those in need. Azarel's greatest
wish is for every able body to reach out to help someone in need. Visit her on
Facebook at: msazarel or follow her on Twitter at: CEOAzarel.
Visit LCB Publishing at: www.lifechangingbooks.net
to purchase books by Azarel and her authors.
Wealthy &
Wicked by Chris Renee
Tracey
Robbins has it all: money, successful, business, and a closet a girl would
kill for. St. Louis is her playground as everybody who wants to be somebody
tries desperately to be in her circle. However, living the young, black, and
privileged life comes with perks that could turn the purest hearts wicked, just
for a chance to be like her. The unannounced arrival of Tez, a sexy
seemingly no good thug, sends her life in a downward spiral that no one saw
coming. Soon after, she finds herself the center of a devious plan to ruin her
life. Betrayal runs deep as the people the closest to her begin to show their
true colors. With her back against the wall, she finds love in an unlikely pair
of arms. Will that love be enough to save her, or will she remain lost in the
pursuit of wealth?
About the Author
ChrisRenee was
born and raised in St. Louis, MO. Early on she had hopes of becoming a
journalist with emphasis in entertainment. However, after becoming a teenage
mother, she selflessly put her own dreams aside to raise her young family. After
years of working in the field of medical insurance she had considered that dream
as a distant memory. It wasn't until she was introduced into the world of
blogging did she re-ignite her passion for writing. After building a huge fan
base on several blogs she decided to transform one of the popular blogs into a
book. She currently still resides in the St. Louis area with her family where
she is writing for Delux Magazine and currently working on her second fictional
novel as well as a motivational book for teenage mothers.
Kevin
Kennard gazed into the
precious face of his newborn son, the offspring of the intoxicating love he
shared with his wife, Simone. Closing his eyes, Kevin whispered a prayer
of thanks. Life had given him a second chance at happiness far greater
than anything he'd fathomed from inside the concrete walls of his prison cell.
While Kevin and Simone bask in their familial bliss, those scorned by their
union collect the pieces to their shattered hearts and plot the couple's demise.
Darkness
hovers the Kennards when their newborn baby becomes the target for
revenge. A tidal wave of fatal events stifles the sanctity Kevin and
Simone have come to cherish. Kevin had promised those he loved that his
gun-toting days were a thing of the past. But with nothing else to live
for, he journeys to find the person responsible for the devastation reeked in
his world.
Someone
will pay for what they've done to his family, even if it cost Kevin his own
life. In the award winning novel, "Two Tears in a Bucket,"
Kevin and Simone reminded us how powerful and lasting the bonds of love can be.
But can it weather, Another Tear?
Meet the Author
Traci Bee is the award-winning author of the Kindle drama chart topping, Two
Tears in a Bucket. When she’s not writing, Traci enjoys karaoke and spending
time with her family. She currently resides in Waldorf, Maryland with her
husband and kids and is working on two novels; the final installment to the Two
Tears in a Bucket Series and A Nickel for A Kiss.
Dark Side of Valor: A Suspense Novel
by Alicia Singleton
Singleton deftly crafts a most interesting and complex storyline. She writes with the most magnificent prose that locks the reader in--hook, line and sinker. As I turned the pages, I was often wondering what would happen next and was pleasantly surprised at each outcome. It was as if the chapters left me on the edge of my seat, hungry to engross in more of the story. Not only were action and drama prominently present throughout the story, but a hint of romance that leads to an overall intriguing novel.
Readers, who love to be challenged, entertained, and to read a story that will remain with them long after the final page is turned, will not want to miss this novel! If I could give this novel more than 5 stars, I gladly would. Singleton has definitely solidified her place as a strong, emerging literary voice with this debut novel.
-- Reviewed by Angelique, APOOO BookClub
Child advocate Lelia Freeman saves children for a living. As the director of ChildSafe Shelters, she ventures to abandoned squats and
crack houses to rescue teens from the hellish streets of Los Angeles. When she is summoned to Washington to serve on a committee that aids the children of a war-torn African nation, Lelia is kidnapped and becomes a political pawn in a sinister conspiracy. Oceans away from everything she knows, she must trust a mercenary to save her life, or die in the clutches of a psychopath.
Hunting, combat and staying alive are Elijah Dune's specialties. Vengeance is his passion. Haunted by past demons, he travels to the Motherland to collect a debt. A debt that demands one payment. Death.
Caught in the crosshairs of a madman, Lelia and Elijah must survive the jungles of Zaire and the horrors of their pasts or be forever consumed by the DARK SIDE OF VALOR.
Thick and well fed, they scurried along the moldy baseboard, and nosed through debris a few yards away from her feet. Lelia Freeman shifted her position, picked up the worn-down sole of an old shoe and tossed it toward the interlopers, then scoped the dank room once more.
A pile of urine-stained clothes adorned one corner, a pyramid of aluminum, ode to the beer can, lit another . A derelict wooden crate, blunt buds, and a broken crack pipe cluttered the floor. Someone managed to throw some fast-food wrappers into a mildewed box.
Lelia swiped her forehead with her sleeve. Boiling. It was one hundred degrees or better in the boarded row house. And she roasted.
Thick rubber bands shackled her jeans to her ankles, bit through the thick denim and knee-high socks, and held in the heat. She inched the bands down. A necessary evil. Better than roaches, mice or worse scampering up her legs.
She’d been there, in the squat, waiting for three hours. She’d give Megan another hour to show, then she’d head back to ChildSafe.
Megan’s father was flying in from Colorado that day, was supposed to pick the child up from the shelter in three hours. Megan had left her home eleven months ago. She didn’t flee from a hellish existence like most runaways. “I just wanted to be free from rules and live my own sixteen-year-old life,” she’d said.
Life sunk its teeth into that sixteen-year-old, bit back. Crack found another weak slave to control, ruin.
She’d come to ChildSafe after eight months of hell, wanted to clean herself up. Wanted to go home. Lelia helped her, tough-loved her away from the streets, like she’d done for all the kids that stepped over ChildSafe’s threshold.
The night before, after lights out, Megan bolted. Lelia’s search brought her here, back to Megan’s old stomping ground.
Lelia stood, stretched her cramped muscles. The floorboards shifted, groaned beneath her feet. She left the room, moved along the hallway, listened to the scampering, the scratching from inside the walls. She glanced through the holes punched in the clapboard. The reek of human waste, mildew and suffering assailed her. She didn’t flinch. The surroundings were part of her.
High in a corner on the wall, she caught sight of a scrap of wallpaper. Bright as the day it was hung, it stuck out in the gloom. Colorful flowers splashed across a white background.
About the Author
Alicia M. Singleton was born and raised in Philadelphia. A graduate of Howard University, she now lives in Maryland with her husband and son. Visit her at aliciasingleton.com.
What secrets do you keep from the one you share everything with?
Secrets. Lies. Half-Truths. Toni and Jada grew up together and are best friends in Yesterday's Lies. They attended Jr. high, High school and college together.
They dated best friends David, Jr. and Benjamin.
Yesterday's Lies
is a poignant tale of a circle of close knit friends whose lives are more intertwined than they realize. That is until the blurred lines of Love, Lust and Friendship begins to reveal the half-truths and lies that exist.
In the sequel,
Today's Truth
brings the characters of Yesterday's Lies back together to honor their departed friend. They're each keeping secrets in an attempt to shield each other from the pain that the truth will cause. What they don't realize is that their efforts will all be in vain. One of them holds the key that will open the door and the sins, lies and secrets will come to the light.
Today's Truth
is filled with suspense, drama and twists that you will never see coming. Will the secrets they all hold from the past ruin their friendship and lives forever?
Excerpt from the prologue of Today's Truth
Dear Journal,
My name is Toni Dickerson. Wow, I still can’t get used to my married name––Dickerson. Yes, I’m married, FINALLY. Darien and I met at work and married about six months ago. We now have a four-month-old son named Darien, Jr. but we call him Lil’ Darien. We work for American Health Products; I’m a sales rep in Marketing, and he’s a manager in Accounting. I love my job in Marketing and am in conflict about returning to work now that Lil’ Darien is here.
The past year has been full of life changing events for my friends and me. My circle of friends, as I have referred to them over the past decade, include my best friend Jada, her husband David, Jr., who was killed this past year in a terrible car accident, and my long-lost love Benjamin. The four of us grew up together in Greenbelt, Maryland, attended the same high school, and then went to Penn State together. Things were great for the four of us until our senior year of college.
Benjamin and I had a bad fight and broke up for a couple of months at the end of the summer heading into our senior year. During that time, we both started dating other people. I dated a guy named Vinny, or Vince as I later found out. A month after Benjamin and I reconciled, I discovered I was pregnant. Benjamin was favored for a first round pick in the NBA draft. I knew my pregnancy would be a distraction for him, and I wasn’t sure whose baby I was carrying, his or Vinny’s. An opportunity came up for a marketing internship in Chicago, so I jumped at the chance to take it. I needed some time to think about how to handle the pregnancy and establishing paternity.
A few months into my internship in Chicago, I received a call from Jada that Benjamin had been hurt during practice for the playoffs. It was thought to be a career-ending injury. Benjamin was devastated and had fallen into a deep depression. He was not responding to anyone and asked to be left alone until he was ready to talk. Jada was calling to let me know that this included me, as well. I wasn’t buying it at all. I tried calling and emailing him, but didn’t receive any response. After a few days, I considered traveling back to Pennsylvania to see him in person. However, a quick glance in the mirror at my protruding belly quickly brought me back to reality. There was no way I was springing this pregnancy on him while he was going through this. So, I decided to give him some time.
Meanwhile, I would work on trying to contact Vinny to let him know about the pregnancy and that we would need a paternity test. Vinny and I only dated briefly, and I was not able to locate him. He attended a college in Pittsburgh, and obviously, the information he gave me was only partially true.
After the first month of not hearing from Benjamin and not getting any responses to my messages, I became depressed. After three months, I decided the best course of action was to put the baby up for adoption and move on with my life. I was scared and alone with no one to turn to. Jada’s life was moving along just fine, while I was pregnant and alone, not knowing who had fathered my child. I asked myself how I got here. There was no answer.
My love, Benjamin, had disappeared from my life for seven long years without so much as a phone call, letter, or an email. Looking back over the past decade, I now realize I wasted seven good years of my life mourning the loss of Benjamin and trying to find that love I felt with him with so many Mr. Right Now’s along the way.
I was in a deep state of depression for a long time. I know that Jada and David, Jr. moved here because they were concerned about me. It took me two years to halfway get over the loss of Benjamin, and once I did start dating again, I had a string of unfulfilling and emotionally abusive relationships. Jada was always there for me, trying to help pick up the pieces whenever I suffered another heartbreak.
Primary message in the book, Today's Truth by Terri D: Think before you act. These friends were not intentionally trying to hurt one another but in the end they did. If they had each taken the time to think about the entire situation before making rash decisions things would have worked out much better.
About the Author
Terri D
is a long-term transplant resident of Harrisburg, PA. She is a single mother of three who has written poetry and short stories all of her life. Her children have always been her inspiration to push to get to the next level. She writes as a way to express herself and to document her inner most feelings. Terri D published her debut novel titled Yesterday’s Lies in 2011 and her second novel Today’s Truth is being released in the Spring of 2012. For more information about Terri D please visit her website at
www.AuthorTerriD.com or visit her Fanpage:
http://www.facebook.com/AuthorTerriD.
THE REVEREND'S WIFE
by Kimberla Lawson Roby
From New York Times bestselling author Kimberla Lawson Roby comes the ninth installment in her award-winning Reverend Curtis Black series.
It's been months since Reverend Curtis Black learned that his wife, Charlotte, had affairs with two different men, and for now, he continues to be cordial and respectful to her. But he's also made it clear that once their son, Matthew, graduates high school, he will be filing for divorce. Charlotte, on the other hand, continues to do everything possible to make amends in hopes of saving their marriage.
Unfortunately, Curtis is ready to move on and is being propositioned by a woman who desperately wants to become the next Mrs. Curtis Black. When the situation heads down a path that is frighteningly shocking, could it be the final blow to this once blessed union?
CHAPTER EXCERPT: THE REVEREND'S WIFE
Chapter 1
Charlotte smiled at Curtina, the stepdaughter she once hated, and could hardly wait for her guests to arrive at the huge birthday bash they were throwing for her. Curtina had turned three shortly after they’d moved into the new church, and today, here it was a whole year later in the middle of May, and her little princess was actually turning four already. She was a big girl now, and Charlotte was glad she’d chosen the most adorable little bright pink jean outfit, with cute little rhinestones forming a heart across the back of the jacket, for her to wear. She was picture perfect and more beautiful than any child Charlotte could think of. She was as sweet as anyone could imagine and a joy to be around—she was the daughter Charlotte couldn’t and wouldn’t ever want to live without, no matter the circumstances.
Charlotte scanned the pink, lavender and white decorated family room in the lower level of the house and was satisfied with the way everything had turned out. The area was filled with tables adorned with festive table cloths and a plethora of balloons, some held down by weights and others touching the high ceiling. The setting was just right, and there was no mistaking that Charlotte had spent weeks planning the biggest party Curtina had been given during her four short years on this earth, and that Charlotte had enjoyed doing what she thought would make her daughter happy.
“So, are you excited sweetheart?” Curtis asked Curtina.
“Yep. And I can’t wait for all my friends to get here.”
“I’m sure,” he said, hugging her at his waist side.
Charlotte studied her husband from head to toe. After all these years of being married to him, nearly eleven that is, Curtis was still as gorgeous as ever, and truthfully, even better-looking than when she’d met him. His skin remained flawless, his hair still held a soft wave, and even a person with poor eyesight could see how religiously he worked out. He was still the man of her dreams, the man she loved with all her heart, the man she was finally completely committed to—even if he refused to believe it.
Yes, she’d made tons of mistakes, the most recent being last year when she’d slept with two different men, but she couldn’t have been sorrier for her actions. She’d allowed her ill feelings toward
Curtina, the child Curtis had conceived outside of their marriage and brought to live with them permanently, to get the best of her, but now she felt differently. Today, she had forgiven Curtis and since Curtina’s mother had passed away, she was honored to fill that role. It was true that for a while, she’d treated Curtina horribly and had wished she could move elsewhere, but soon Charlotte’s heart had softened and she’d slowly become close to her. As time had continued, she'd come to love and cherish Curtina as if she were her own.
Nonetheless, her new feelings toward Curtina hadn’t made much of a difference to Curtis, and his plans hadn’t changed. He was cordial and polite enough whenever he was around her, but he’d made his intentions very clear: he was still divorcing Charlotte as soon as Matthew headed to Harvard three months from now. He seemed so sure about it, like there was no way anything could change his mind, and this saddened Charlotte. It terrified her because she didn’t know what she’d do without her husband. She had no idea how he could possibly expect her to go on, when as far as she was concerned, there was no life for her at all if it wasn’t with him.
But no matter what she said, no matter how hard she pleaded her case, he didn’t seem to care one way or the other. He was quite set on his decision, content with it even, and all Charlotte could do now was pray for some sort of a miracle. She was hopeful that God would soon intervene and bring them back together again.
Then there was her semi-strained relationship with Matthew, her handsome six-foot-two and highly intelligent eighteen-year-old son who had always been a very caring and forgiving child but now couldn’t seem to fully forgive his mother for the way she’d hurt him. Just thinking about that Tom character and how he’d forced her to meet him at a motel made her cringe, not to mention the sneaky way he’d tricked Matthew into driving miles to witness it. Matthew had even knocked on the door and caught her trying to get dressed, and while this had all been Charlotte’s fault—her sleeping with Tom, a man she’d never met, right after drinking too many long island iced teas at a jazz club outside of Chicago and then being blackmailed by him—Tom’s actions had still been downright dirty. They’d been deplorable at best, and it had taken her months to try to forget about him—months before she’d finally stopped toying with the idea of getting revenge.
“Agnes, thank you so much for all your help,” Charlotte said to their long-time housekeeper. “Thank you for everything.”
“Of course. I was glad to do it. Especially for my little pumpkin,” she said, smiling at
Curtina.
“Thank you, Miss Agnes.”
“You’re quite welcome, sweetie.”
“I’ll bet you’re going to get a lot of gifts, Curtina,” Alicia said, standing close to her ex-husband Phillip, and Charlotte wished that witch hadn’t even bothered coming. There was a time when Charlotte had loved her stepdaughter, Curtis’s eldest child and the one he’d had with his first wife, but now Charlotte couldn’t stand her. Although, it wasn’t like it was Alicia’s fault that things had turned ugly between them, it was Curtis’s. Their falling-out had occurred right after Curtis had given Alicia total control over his estate, should something happen to him, and just before Curtis had transferred all of his money into new accounts that didn’t bear Charlotte’s name. Some were now being jointly held with Alicia and some were listed in his name only, and this angered Charlotte to no end.
The only problem was, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it—not when Curtis had told her right from the beginning that if she caused any difficulties for him financially, he would have no problem releasing a few of those degrading photos of her that Tom had sent him. She also didn’t complain because in all fairness to Curtis, he wrote her a five-figure check on the first of every month and had promised to do right by her when it was time for the divorce settlement. He’d told her how he didn’t expect her normal way of living to change, and that he would always honor the fact that she was his son’s mother.
“We should take a couple of family photos,” Matthew suggested.
Curtis looked for a spot they could all stand in. “I agree.”
“How about outside?” Richard said, pointing toward the sliding glass door. Richard was the hired photographer who had come highly recommended by multiple parents at Curtina’s school, and Charlotte was glad she’d contacted him.
“Sounds good to me,” Curtis said. Everyone, including Agnes, paraded through the lower level and out to the patio, and Richard positioned each of them into place.
“I’m the smallest, so that’s why I have to be in the front,” Curtina announced proudly.
“Maybe I should kneel down in front of you,” Matthew said, teasing her.
“No, Matt, then no one will be able to see me, and it’s my birthday, remember?”
“Whatever, little girl,” he said.
Everyone laughed but all Charlotte focused on was Curtis and how she wished she could do more than just stand beside him. What she longed for was his touch and the way he’d once held her—all the time. She wanted this and so much more, and she was willing to do whatever it took to win him back. She would do anything to make him love and trust her again, and she prayed the opportunity would present itself—before it was too late.
Freeman
is a love story--sweeping, generous, brutal,
compassionate, patient--about the feelings people were determined to honor,
despite the enormous constraints of the times. It is this aspect of the book
that should ensure it a strong, vocal, core audience of African-American women,
who will help propel its likely critical acclaim to a wider audience. At the
same time, this book addresses several themes that are still hotly debated
today, some 145 years after the official end of the Civil War.
Setting the Scene for Freeman Excerpt
Freeman is about a former slave named Sam who, at the very end of the Civil War,
embarks on foot from Philadelphia to Mississippi in search of Tilda, the wife he
has not seen in 15 years. He doesn't know if she is still in Mississippi, he
doesn't know if she still alive, he doesn't know if she has another man, he
doesn't know if she wants to see him again; when they parted, there was a
tragedy between them and she blamed him for it and hated him for it. In this
scene Sam, over a campfire, explaining to his friend and travel partner Ben what
happened after he was captured and his son killed on an escape attempt Tilda
told him not to try.
SNEAK PEEK: Freeman by Leonard Pitts, Jr.
She shrieked at him, "Where is Luke? What happened to Luke?" Then the
slave catchers whipped him, and...
“When they were done, they threw me in the pest house to heal up. They would
not let anyone in there except an old blind woman, Mammy Sue. She tended my cuts
as best she could. Once, I asked her how Tilda was doing. ‘Not good,’ she
said. I said, ‘Would you tell Tilda something for me? Tell her I’m
sorry.’”
Sam’s laugh was bitter as unripe fruit. “Are there any two words in the
English language more useless than those?” he asked. “‘Sorrow makes us all
children again.’ Ralph Waldo Emerson said that.”
“What she say?” asked Ben.
“I asked Mammy Sue the next day when she came in to apply the poultice to my
back. She told me Tilda said nothing, not a word. She said it was as if she had
spoken to the tree. As I said, the word is useless.”
‘Yeah, but wasn’t too much else you could say,” said Ben.
Sam looked at him. “As soon as I was feeling better, Mistress sold me. One
day, she walked into the pest house; it was the first time I had seen her since
they brought me back. She faced me with me a sorrowful countenance as if to
express to me how profoundly I had disappointed her. She said, ‘Perseus, I
never would have thought it of you.’
“What you say?”
“I said nothing. What am I supposed to say to that? Then this white man
entered behind her. He looked me up and down as though appraising a horse. He
said to her, ‘Yes, he’ll do just fine.’ That was when I realized I was
being sold.
“An hour later, I left there, tied in the back of his wagon. It rolled past
the fields where the slaves were working, chopping cotton. Some of them stopped
to look as I went by. Tilda never lifted her head, never even looked my way. I
wanted to cry out to her, but it would have been useless, and besides, what
could I say? I saw them telling her I was leaving, I watched them point toward
me. She never stopped what she was doing.”
“Angry,” said Ben.
Sam nodded. “She was furious. She had a right to be.”
“So why you going back?”
Sam pondered this a moment. Then he said, “I do not rightly know. I suppose I
just feel there must be something more I should say, some word I can find that
will be more meaningful than ‘sorry.’ ”
He pulled out his watch. It was getting late. “I am going to turn in,” he
said. He found a likely spot and lay down on the thin spring grass, clasping his
hands behind his head as a pillow. Ben did the same and after a moment, Sam
heard the other man’s breathing grow steady and deep. Only then did he allow
himself to weep. The tears fell silently, his body shaking. He covered his mouth
with his hand, lest any sound escape.
Regret ate him like cancer. It gnawed at the very gut of him.
His son, his only child, quick and lively boy who had looked like him and walked
like him, even stood like him…and his Tilda, who had adored him and nurtured
him, who had given shape and meaning to his days…why hadn’t that been
enough? Wasn’t it more than many men had? Wasn’t it more than he even had a
right to hope for? Why, then, had he risked it and ruined it? Why did he need
all that, and freedom, too?
God, he had loved her.
Not just because she was beautiful, not just because her thighs were round and
strong and her hair thick and long. No, he had loved her laughter. He had loved
the quiet moment lying together on a mattress of corn shucks after a hard day,
not speaking and not needing to. He had loved holding her hand and watching the
rain from the front door of their cabin. He had loved watching her nurse their
son, watching the boy tug greedily at her nipple while she gazed down on him
with all the tenderness in the world. He had loved reading a book and handing it
to her saying, ‘You should read this,’ and then talking about it with her
afterward. He had loved her.
He still did.
The knowledge of it brought tears rushing in fresh sheets of pain down his
cheek. He wept in silence.
Freeman
by Leonard Pitts Jr.
Purchase Freeman from Amazon
Paperback 432 pages
ISBN-10: 1932841644
ISBN-13: 978-1932841640
Sunday Morning Trilogy
by Terry E. Hill
“Come Sunday Morning” is the first of three installments in the
Sunday Morning Trilogy by Terry E. Hill. In book #1 we meet Hezekiah T. Cleveland the wealthy, handsome and charismatic pastor of the mega-church New Testament Cathedral in Los Angeles. He is married to Reverend Samantha Cleveland a beautiful, sensuous, ambitious, and equally charismatic minister.
Samantha is the power behind Hezekiah and their multi-million dollar ministry.
She runs the church and their national television network from behind the scenes with a firm, and often cruel hand.
Hezekiah meets a handsome young social worker named Danny St. John. Hezekiah and Danny fall in love and over the course of a year they struggle to keep their affair a secret. Hezekiah alone grapples with the conflict between the dogma of his religious convictions and his love for Danny. One year into their affair Hezekiah comes to the conclusion that he must choose between Danny and his ministry.
Samantha is devastated and humiliated when she learns of Hezekiah’s affair. She fears he will announce publicly that he is leaving her and ruin her dream of one day taking over their empire. She decides the time is right to rid herself of Hezekiah permanently. Samantha seduces and conspires with Hezekiah’s nemesis, Reverend Willie Mitchell. Together they conclude that Hezekiah must be killed while he is delivering the Sunday morning sermon.
During the Sunday morning sermon in which Hezekiah is about to reveal the double life that he has been living, a shot rings out in the cavernous New Testament Cathedral sanctuary. Hezekiah is killed in front of a live television audience and the shocked members of his congregation. During the pandemonium, Samantha Cleveland skillfully portrays the role of a shocked, frightened and bereaved wife.
Shortly after Hezekiah’s assassination Samantha is installed as the Pastor of New Testament Cathedral. From the outside she appears to be the perfect choice to head the ministry. She is strikingly beautiful, charismatic and an inspirational preacher. She dresses in the finest designer clothes; her circle of friends include the host of the most popular talk show in the country, the president and his wife, celebrities, politicians and corporate moguls. But Samantha has a secret and will go to any lengths to protect it, including seduction and murder.
When the story continues in book two, “When Sunday Comes Again”, Samantha is challenged by people who suspect she played a role in her husband’s death. Danny mourns the loss of his one true love and is convinced Samantha had her husband murdered. Cynthia Pryce, the wife of the
church's assistant pastor Reverend Percy Pryce, will stop at nothing to ensure that Samantha is removed and her husband is installed as pastor. She launches a clandestine campaign to remove Samantha as pastor. Gideon Truman is the famous, handsome and sexually ambiguous investigative reporter who rummages through the skeletons in Samantha’s closet in his attempt to solve Hezekiah’s murder and to establish himself as the country’s black Anderson Cooper. They each desire to bring Samantha down for their own reasons.
A mysterious voice on the phone presents additional obstacles for Samantha to overcome in her quest for absolute control of the ministry. The blackmailer threatens to go public with information that will prove Hezekiah was involved in a homosexual affair if he is not paid two million dollars in cash. Again the depth to which Samantha will stoop to preserve her reputation and empire is underestimated. She manipulates and seduces the husband of her long time nemesis, Scarlett Shackelford, and the end result is yet another lifeless body lying at Samantha’s Prada clad feet.
Terry E. Hill is currently writing the 3rd and final book of the Sunday Morning Trilogy titled “The Last
Sunday.” The release is anticipated in Spring 2013.
Introducing the Sunday Morning Trilogy by Terry E. Hill
Cynthia Pryce paced the living room floor in the twenty-third floor penthouse. The blue sky dotted with clouds and the sun rising over rolling green hills in the distance demurred in her presence. The glow of her morning skin rivaled the splendor of the panorama outside her window. Luxurious strands of burnt caramel hair responded obediently to every tilt of her head. A creamy peach satin robe swirled around the calves of her long legs as she made a series of sharp turns in front of the windows. The face of Samantha Cleaveland on the front page of the Los Angeles Chronicle taunted her from the coffee table.
“Interim Pastor,” she muttered softly as she continued her march. “This isn’t over Samantha. Don’t get too comfortable.”
She felt a sharp snap of jealousy as she silently recalled the events of the last three weeks. “If only those idiots, Hezekiah and Lance Savage, hadn’t gotten themselves killed Percy would be the pastor of New Testament Cathedral today.”
She pushed the image of Samantha standing at the center of the pulpit before the entire congregation and all the cameras from her mind. A rage that she could hardly contain swelled in her stomach. “Pull yourself together girl,” she thought. “This isn’t over. You almost destroyed Hezekiah. You can do the same to Samantha.”
The slight glimmer of hope that her husband could still one day become pastor made the sight of Samantha’s smiling face on the front page of the newspaper hurt a little less. She reached down and without looking at the paper turned it over on the coffee table.
Just as she stood up her husband, the Reverend Percy Pryce entered the room. His tall frame was dressed in a smoky grey suit, butter yellow shirt, and a tie that picked up the hues in the suit, shirt, and his rich almond skin. “Is the paper here yet?” he asked coldly without greeting her.
“It’s on the coffee table. Of course she’s on the front page again.”
“Why does that upset you so much?” he snapped.
Cynthia turned sharply toward him and said, “It upsets me because you should have been appointed pastor not her.”
“The trustee vote was unanimous. It’s over Cynthia. Samantha is the pastor. We just have to just live with it.”
“Wrong, they voted unanimously to appoint her as interim pastor. If everyone was so convinced that she was the best successor for Hezekiah they would have made her permanent pastor. So it’s not over. There’s still a chance for us… for you to prove to them that you are the best person for the job. Hezekiah would have wanted it that way and you know it.”
“It doesn’t matter what Hezekiah wanted at this point. If God wanted me to be pastor he would have made me pastor. We have to live with the decision.”
“Why are you so naïve? It was Samantha’s scheming that got her the position. God didn’t have anything to do with it. The only thing we have to do is expose her for the conniving greedy woman she is. If you would only do what I tell you and let me…”
Percy walked rapidly toward her at the window and cut her off. “You’ve done enough already. Lance Savage is dead because of you,” he interrupted.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t have anything to do with his death.”
The image of the Los Angeles Chronicle reporter, Lance Savages, lying dead on the floor of his home on the canals in Venice flashed in Percy’s mind. “If you hadn’t leaked the story about Hezekiah being gay to Lance he would still be alive,” he replied barely containing himself.
“The police don’t know who killed Lance, and they haven’t said anything about his death being linked to the story he was writing. Besides, who would kill him because of that?”
Percy looked away when he heard the question. No one knew of his visit to Lances’ home on the day he was murdered. No one knew he had pushed the reporter to the floor when he refused to accept $175,000 in exchange for not running the explosive story detailing Hezekiah’s homosexual affair. No one knew that he had fled the home leaving the reporters’ lifeless body on the floor only to be discovered the next day by his housekeeper.
Cynthia continued, “Look at me Percy. You have to be a man and fight for what is rightfully yours.” Cynthia walked to him and put her soft hand on his cheek. “Darling,” she whispered, “you were born to be Pastor of New Testament Cathedral. We can make that happen. You just have to listen to me.”
Percy bowed his head and tried to look away but the soft touch of her hand caused him to gradually, and unwillingly, succumbed to her breathless commands.
Cynthia was relentless. She raised his head and looked directly into his eyes, “I have it all figured out baby. You have to trust me. Do as I tell you and everything will work out in our favor.”
She drew him closer and placed his head on her soft shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her sweet breath on his ear. She tenderly and expertly kissed his neck and lips. The intoxicating smell of her body replaced the fear and guilt that taunted him with longing.
“I love you Percy,” she whispered. “Make love to me baby. I need to feel you inside me.”
As she pulled him closer she could feel the rigid evidence of his desire. His hands grudgingly tugged at the cord of her robe. He slowly removed it from her bare shoulders and let it drop to the floor in a puddle around her ankles exposing her naked body. Percy caressed every inch of her creamy skin and felt her moistness as they panted in unison and pressed their lips passionately together.
With nimble fingers she unzipped his pants and released his throbbing member. Cynthia raised her leg and rested it on the leather belt above his hip. With one hand she guided him into her and released a gasp when he thrust deep inside her.
“Just do as I say baby,” she repeated over and over as he made love to her in front of the floor to ceiling window of the penthouse apartment. “Just do as I say.”
[Page Break]
Mondays were the hardest for Danny St. John. For him the day marked the beginning of another week without Hezekiah. Another week he would not hear his voice whisper, ‘I love you Danny’. Another week he wouldn’t feel his strong arms around his waist or taste the sweetness of his kiss.
Danny had rarely left his apartment in the three weeks since Hezekiah’s murder. The air was stale and musty. All the shades were drawn and the curtains closed tight. At times he found himself stumbling through the house, wearing only baggy shorts, to the refrigerator for orange juice or the cupboard for saltine crackers and canned soup. He had no appetite for anything more substantial.
Parker never let Danny out of his sight. The scruffy gray cat followed his master from room to room. He sat on Danny’s lap on the couch and curled next to him when he lay crying in bed.
The television in his bedroom had been on for three weeks. It was always tuned to either the local news or CNN. Whenever he heard Hezekiah’s name mentioned he turned up the volume. The CNN reporter Gideon Truman offered the most comprehensive coverage of the killing. Although much of the information he reported was inaccurate Danny found it difficult to not listen to the handsome journalists’ account of the life and death of the man he had loved so deeply.
Newspapers were piled in stacks on the floor next to the couch in his small apartment. Each day the articles served to remind him that he would never see Hezekiah again.
The headline on the Monday after the murder blazed, “Prominent Los Angeles Pastor Gunned Down In Front Of Horrified Congregation.”
Wednesdays’ announced: “World Mourns the Death of Pastor Hezekiah T. Cleaveland”.
Hints of scandal surfaced in Fridays’: “Slain Pastor To Be Laid To Rest. Millions Expected To View Televised Service”.
The stories never seemed to end and they all landed with a thud on Danny’s door step each day courtesy of the Los Angeles Chronicle. The telephone on the nightstand next to his bed rang several times a day but he never answered. The most frequent calls came from his friend Kay Braisden. “Danny, it’s Kay again,” her messages would say. “Honey I know how you must be feeling right now. Please pick up the phone.” When there was no response she would continue, “Danny I know I hurt you the last time we spoke. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I was just so surprised when you told me you were involved in a relationship with Hezekiah Cleaveland. I didn’t know how to handle it. I was wrong.”
On another day the message was, “You are my best friend Danny. I should have been there for you and for that I apologize. But I want to be there for you now. Please call me. I’m going to keep calling for as long as it takes for you to forgive me. I love you Danny, and I’m praying for you.”
Danny’s eyes filled with tears each time he heard a message from Kay. He wanted to speak with her but the right time had not yet come.
APOOO BOOK REVIEW
Come Sunday Morning by Terry E. Hill
Hezekiah Cleveland is the influential pastor of mega church, New Testament Cathedral. He, along with his wife, Samantha, are building a brand new $40 million sanctuary. The homeless in the neighborhood are up in arms because they feel the money could go towards helping them find housing. While trying to find a way to work out some of their differences, Hezekiah meets someone with the non-profit outreach program for the homeless. Drawn to this person like no other before, Hezekiah begins to have an affair that he believes will one day turn into the love of his life. A reporter finds out about Hezekiah’s affair and is on the verge of revealing it. Hezekiah has been known to sleep around, but when Samantha finds out about this affair she realizes she has to take extreme measures. Those extreme measures include Hezekiah being removed entirely from the situation and Samantha becoming the new pastor of New Testament Church.
COME SUNDAY MORNING by Terry E. Hill is full of manipulation, lying, and backstabbing. So much so, that I begin to forget this was even talking about a CHURCH.
Hill throws you into the life of the ministry. You immediately see the good, the bad, and the ugly. He captures you from the very beginning. It is uncanny how some of the scenarios seem to be about real situations. But we know this is all make believe. Right?? New characters were introduced towards the end, teasing readers for the next installment. I anticipate reading the sequel. I recommend this book for those looking for a fast and entertaining read.
This book was provided courtesy of the author for review. Reviewed by: Donnica Copeland, APOOO BookClub
Derrin's Hot Pursuit: A Chasing Love Novel
by Tucker Davis
Some things are worth waiting for . . . while others
are worth chasing.
Ever since Derrin Reynolds’ ex-fiancé Nicole cheated on him and left to
marry another man, Derrin vowed to never fall in love again. The single life
suited him just fine until one night changed everything. Derrin woke up in bed
with his sister’s best friend Chloe Dancy. But this time his ‘one and
done’ motto was not enough for Derrin. He wanted more, he wanted it all.
Would Chloe help heal his heart so he could give love a second chance? Or
would she run from his love as fast as she can?
Chloe Dancy has avoided the company of a man for so long she does not know how
to handle a man like Derrin, but once she gets a taste of Derrin will she jump
head first into the dating scene or twist her way into Derrin’s heart? Only
time will tell.
CHAPTER ONE - Five months earlier…
Chloe had come in the bedroom to escape the party scene. She claimed to have
had a migraine headache and just needed to lie down. But the B.C. powder and
Coca-Cola she gulped down took its toll very quickly and she could hardly keep
her eyes open. She fell on the bed and was sleep before her head hit the
pillow. Unknown to her, Derrin was already sleeping in the king sized bed
exhausted from jet lag coupled with too many shots of Patron.
Chloe obviously was dreaming about something erotic because she moaned in her
sleep. Her breathy moans caused something in Derrin to react and he inched
closer to her with each sound. He felt as though he was being called by
something out of his control. He believed he was dreaming and decided to just
go with it and see where the dream took him. It took him right up behind Chloe
in the bed. As the front of his thigh brushed up against her round firm, yet
soft butt, he threw his leg over her as she slept on her side. The weight of
his leg and the slight touch of his manhood against the middle of her butt
made Chloe groan with heated expectation. She naturally scooted back against
him. The softness of her butt was a trigger for his hand to caress and stroke
her breasts. The more he touched her, the more intense her moans became.
Derrin, being the woman loving player he was, went into autopilot. He lay
sleep and unaware of his body’s reaction and interaction with Chloe Dancy.
The lime green v-neck chiffon shirt she wore allowed his large chocolate brown
hands easy access to her bra. With only a flick of his wrist, he had unclasped
her bra and was caressing her nipples until they were perky buds waiting to be
tasted. Chloe moaned and unknowingly pleaded for him to satisfy her.
His subconscious mind attempted to let him know this was no dream, but he
ignored it. As he continued to caress her breasts, she turned to face him. The
soft scent of her perfume and the aroused scent of her sexual readiness began
to torture his senses. He licked his lips and inched his head closer to her
face. Within seconds his lips were pressed against her ears. He nibbled on
them and they tasted like kiwi. He loved kiwi.
The moistness of his lips and tongue caused her to pull his face, and
ultimately his lips, towards her mouth. Then it happened, their lips touched
and their tongues began a sensual mating dance. She tasted like peppermint. He
could not get enough. His hot tongue glided over her tongue. He nipped at her
lips. He continued the oral assault on her mouth until she threw her head back
and sighed. She was near climax from his kiss.
He rolled over on top of her and eased his hand up her mini skirt. No panties,
pay dirt. He subconsciously thought. His hands moved slightly across her
thighs and then slowly and gently pressed against the core of her womanhood.
She was hot, soft and wet. His erection grew with each touch. Derrin whispered
in her ear, “Open for me baby.” He softly cooed in her ear.
She responded without hesitation. His fingers stroked her womanly folds, first
with swirls then with flicks. Chloe was beyond hot and bothered now. She threw
her legs open like a butterfly and begged, “Please. Now.”
Even a sleep and drunken Derrin could not deny a woman’s pleas for
satisfaction. As he began kissing her again, he pushed back from her, unzipped
his pants, and freed his manhood. Sensing the presence of his manhood, Chloe
softly moved the tips of her fingers from the base to the head.
She smiled in her sedated state.
Derrin slowly pressed his manhood at the entrance of her heavenly gate. She
mumbled pleas for satisfaction. He eased inside her. Hmm, what’s that, he
thought. He figured he did not have the strength he normally did since this
was a dream. With a little more pressure he entered her. Her moans sounded
like a cry. He halted his movement and lay still. Something was wrong.
Then her body began to meld to him and grip him with the pull of a plunger.
Then it happened. She opened her eyes and saw him lying on top of her. She
could not see his face.
Who is this man with creamy brown skin, dark low cut curly hair lying on top
of me? No, lying inside of me. Chloe adjusted her head to try to get a better
glimpse of his face. Then his identity became evident. She knew his every
feature even without seeing his eyes. Derrin.
Justice Older than the Law: The Life of Dovey Johnson Roundtree
by Katie McCabe and Dovey Johnson Roundtree
Winner of the Association of Black Women Historians’ 2009 Letitia Woods Brown Memorial Book Prize for best publication on an African American woman
» AUDIO SNEAK PEEK FROM THE BOOK
Katie McCabe reading from Chapter One, "Walking Unafraid," about Dovey Roundtree's courageous Grandma Rachel, the woman Dovey calls "the greatest warrior I ever knew." Listen here now:
http://www.audioacrobat.com/sa/WC3S5tj4
Justice Older than the Law
by Katie McCabe and Dovey Johnson
Roundtree is the story of pioneering Army veteran, attorney and minister Dovey Johnson Roundtree, co-authored by Katie McCabe. This is a love song to the black family and a celebration of the eternal values that make it possible to transcend our pain and limitations. Dovey Roundtree is an icon, and her story is an inspiration to all families.
Dovey Johnson Roundtree is a retired lawyer, an Army veteran, and an A.M.E. minister. She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina. Katie McCabe is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in the Washingtonian Magazine, Baltimore Magazine, and Reader's Digest, among others. Her National Magazine Award-winning article on black medical legend Vivien Thomas was the basis for the HBO film Something the Lord Made, winner of three Emmys and a 2005 Peabody Award.
Chapter One, "Walking Unafraid," about Dovey Roundtree's courageous Grandma Rachel, the woman Dovey calls "the greatest warrior I ever knew."
Excerpt from Chapter One: Walking Unafraid
Every evening, in the tiny kitchen of the old frame shotgun house where I grew up in Charlotte, my Grandma Rachel marked the day’s end by a ritual etched in my memory with a clarity that belies the eighty years since then.
She ceased to rush, as she did endlessly in the hours between dawn and darkness, and she commenced to draw water and lay out clean towels and mix an ointment she made of turpentine and mutton tallow. I would stand, quiet, watching her heat the water on the wood stove, pour it into a metal pan, then remove her stockings and hoist her skirts as she lifted her feet into the steaming bath.
Her feet were broken. They were gnarled and twisted and horribly misshapen, with the bones sticking out in strange ways. As she lifted them into the steaming water, she winced. And I would know, though she had spoken no word and given no sign, that all day long her feet had been paining her.
How frightened I was the first time I saw those poor broken feet. I was five years old, and my mother and my three sisters and I had just moved to my grandparents’ home after the death of my father, James Eliot Johnson, in the influenza epidemic of 1919. My grandmother had scooped us up and taken us under her wing, whisking us from my parents’ house to the little parsonage where she lived with my Grandpa. All day long, she hovered over us…Like a tiny whirling dervish she moved, and so, when I first saw her grow quiet, I was startled.
Then I saw her feet, so large and misshapen they seemed to belong to another woman entirely, and I drew back, frightened. Every night after that, I’d look at her scarred, twisted feet, at the skin stretched taut over the jutting bones, and I’d want to ask her what had made them that way. But something in her silence warned me not to.
The day came, finally, as I was just beginning to mature into womanhood, when Grandma took me to her in private and spoke to me of what had happened to her feet.
A white man had broken them.
It had happened a very long time ago, Grandma said, when she was a young girl, just coming into womanhood herself…and she had seen the man watching her with a look that told her he meant to do her harm.
“The slave master,” she called him. He was the overseer on the farm near Henrietta, North Carolina, where her father worked, and when she spoke of what he had tried to do to her, a look of anguish crossed her face unlike any I had seen before or would see after.
“He was meanin’ to bother me, Dovey Mae,” she told me, in the delicate way she had of speaking about things sexual. “I ran and fought every way I knew how. And I hurt him. Then he grabbed hold o’ me and he stomped, hard as he could, on my feet – to keep me from runnin’ for good, he told me. But I kept on runnin.’”
“Wasn’t nothing to do but fight him, hard as I could,” she said. “He wasn’t goin’ to have his way with me.”
Grandma’s mother had wrapped her smashed, bleeding feet in cloth and rubbed them with the mutton tallow and turpentine ointment Grandma would use for the rest of her days. But the bones had been so crushed that her feet were forever misshapen, and so twisted that for a while she could not walk at all. When she did, it was with a swaying awkwardness that late at night became a limp.
And yet, for all of that, she had won. He had not, as she said, had “his way” with her.
I saw my Grandma Rachel fight everything with that same fierceness – poverty, sickness, injustice, and even despair. Like a mighty stream, her courage flowed through my childhood, shaping me as rushing water shapes the pebbles in its path.
Note: Excerpt used for promotional purposes. Permission given by University Press of Mississippi, Jackson, MS)
» Justice Older than the Law by Katie McCabe Purchase your copy today!
Hardcover: 288 pages
ISBN-10: 160473132X
Strings of Color
by Marian L. Thomas
“Strings of Color” probes the ever-intriguing themes of race, family strife, love, teen pregnancy, friendship and abuse.
Life can grab a hold of you like captivating strings of color. It is a lesson that four women will learn as they each travel down a journey filled with lies, betrayal, and shocking secrets.
Simone. Is immensely talented, yet everything she has ever known will be ripped apart. Her love will be tested. Her heart will call out for a strength that could only exist in moments like this, and her tears will carry her through the storm. Will she be able to give her heart to the love of her life while fighting to open her heart to a mother she has never known?
Naya. While facing her greatest loss, will she be able to find the key to strength, the will to continue on, and the endurance to make it through one of the darkest moments in her life?
Monà. Within her heart is a secret so deep that it could shake the very foundations of two lives. Will she be able to finally look into the eyes of a daughter she has only known from a distance?
Misty. Two paths are set before her; one could lead her back to the life of fame and prominence, which she so desperately wants; and the other could give her the love she so desperately needs. Will she choose the path that is best for her future, or for her heart?
"Strings of Color is a book that reveals family secrets. From the first page until the last readers will be struck with overwhelming emotions. This book has well-developed characters that complement the storyline. It is consistent with the previous books in the series giving readers different views of this family's life. I was thrilled with this book as well as the previous two books in this series. This author has a unique writing style that makes her a wonderful storyteller. I cannot wait until the next book is available. I recommend this book to others."
This book was provided by the author for review purposes. --Teresa Beasley, Authors & Readers Book Corner
The Sneak Peek: Strings of Color
Chapter 1
“Dear life, he knew that I wouldn’t have thirty more years of him. But tonight even as I lay here with tears soaking the floor, I would give thirty seconds just to feel his touch again.” Thirty Seconds. Tonight I almost died…Naya thought to herself. As she walked into her foyer, she dropped her purse, removed her shoes, and slowly allowed her eyes to follow the curve of the stairway until they met up with the oil painting which hung in the center. Wrapped in a thick walnut wood frame, painted in the soft hues of crisp blues, creams, and specks of red, were herself and Chris. His chest stuck proudly out. His smile was as wide as the sunshine. His blue eyes sparkled with the color of the ocean. Arms wrapped around her waist. Chris. She could feel her fingers reaching out to toward him.
She remembered that day. How good it felt to be his wife. The tears began to run down her cheeks as the weight of the day caused her legs to surrender to the pull of the rich mahogany wood floor.
Trembling. Heart pounding. I’ve got to catch my breath, she whispered to herself.
Ten seconds later, she began to scream. The walls responded. The chandelier shook as the realization of what had happened began to sink deep into the pit of her stomach. Less than two hours ago…I was sitting in a worn out chair watching a spider crawl up the wall. I had listened to the splatter of raindrops beat against the dirty windows. I had been staring at the moon for hours. Staring at the walls and then counting the tiny cracks in the floor. There were three hundred and forty-two. Crying for what seemed like
days. My tired body was heavy, ragged and empty. The whiff of dirty mop water had consumed my lungs and I had often found myself dabbing frantically at the corners of my red and swollen eyes. The lights had been dimed and the curtains slightly drawn shut but I could still see him. Every touch we shared had flashed in my mind, every smile and every kiss.
I could hear the machines. As I sat there, I remember feeling like my heart had begun to mix with the slow and methodic beeping noises they made. My mind had just about settled and my eyes had finally closed when I heard it. The noise penetrated the entire room. Louder and louder it got, like a banging in my head. I began to scream as I ran to him and wrapped my fingers around his bed rail.
“Chris!” I shouted. My body was calling out for strength. Darn near begging for it. For him, I would give everything, anything. I would reach down into bottomless wells just to find a speck of it.
“Find me strength; find the darkness that I am in,” I kept repeating over and over in my mind.
A teardrop fell upon his face.
The doors flew open. Three nurses came charging in. One tried to pry my fingers from his bedside but I fought with all that I had to hold on. I was like a mad woman. I kept thinking that if he could just feel my touch, it would give him the strength to fight.
“Please, ma’am,” she said to me. “You’ve got to let go so we can try to save him.” I had watched her lips moving, but my mind had failed to register the reality of the situation I was in.
“Let go ma’am, we’re losing him!” The tone of her voice had finally broken through and I somehow began to find myself again. I remember staring at her, and then back at him. I remember thinking to myself, “Did I hear her right?” Dizziness hit me like the strike of a lightning bolt. My palms had begun to sweat.
“Ma’am,” she said again.
Finally—I blinked.
“Please save my husband,” I whispered.
“We’re trying ma’am, but you’ve got to let go.” The nurse had been forceful but kind. My fingers let go but my heart was still with him as I was gently moved out of the way.
There was rapid movement, loud voices, and machines being brought in. I stood against the wall clutching my shirt and watching his motionless body. When the doors flew open again, the doctor rushed in. I think she glanced my way for a moment. But now I can’t remember. What I do remember is that there was no slow and methodic beeping noise from the machine penetrating deep into my ear lobes anymore. It had vanished as if it had somehow been carried off into the wind.
“Come back, come back.” I whispered. I wanted to hear it again. I needed to hear it again. His blanket was pulled back; a nurse was cutting open his gown. I watched as the scissors grazed his skin. A chill came over me. Strong and forcefully tears began to streak down the sides of my face.
The doctor was yelling, or was that me? I think I remember the doctor’s voice.
“On my count of three, go!”
“Clear!”
“He’s still not responding.”
“Get the machine ready again!”
“It’s ready Doctor.”
“Clear!”
Still the machine was silent.
“Come back beeping noise. I won’t complain about you anymore. Please come back to me.”
I stared at the window as if it would open and the sound would return. There was nothing. Not one single beep! Fear and anticipation filled the air as more nurses and doctors came rushing in. The last thirty years of my life was slipping out through the crevices of my fingers.
Purchase Strings of Color by Marian L. Thomas
• ISBN-10: 0984896708
• ISBN-13: 978-0984896707 Amazon
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