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Give the Gift of Knowledge
Join Our Online Book Tour!
Creations, The Sankofa Literary Society and The Black Authors Network
are proud to announce the launch of the 2014-2015 "Give the Gift of Knowledge Campaign," bringing readers and authors together to help improve literacy.
You can join the campaign too, go here!
Each new year, we encourage readers to purchase books to give as gifts 365 days
a year. Listed below are just a few of our book suggestions. Each week we will bring
many more! Let's all agree to "Give the Gift of Knowledge" and help to strengthen our future
generations by sharing our wonderful literary legacy! We have selected
several hundred books for your library, check them out at our
bookstore, go here. Please consider share this page and the
featured books with your network!
Ella Curry, President of EDC Creations
Black Pearls Magazine Online-Founder
Black Authors Network Radio-Founder
Social Media Strategist - Internet Publicist - Branding Coach
the Publisher of Black Pearls Magazine
EDC Creations is the parent company of the Sankofa
Authors Network Radio Show
and Black Pearls
AALAS award-winner. With a combined reach of potentially 400,000 readers per
week, the Black Pearls Magazine, BAN Radio Show and the Sankofa Literary Society
are keeping readers well informed on what’s on the book shelves!
consists of authors, librarians, 80 established bloggers, 42 nurses, 15
independent bookstores, 45 reviewing bookclubs and has over 2,700
members online and offline in total, with 877 of those members coming from
bookclubs or established reading groups. Quarterly the SLS publishes the
popular TOP 100 BEST BOOKS lists. Each summer the SLS hosts the annual Chocolate
Socials which brings more than 400 readers and authors to Atlanta, GA and New
Orleans, LA for the private literary events.
The popular BAN
offers a diverse group of international authors a chance to showcase their books
to thousands readers weekly. BAN
Radio reaches more than 118,000 readers per week via newsletter and has produced
24,500 downloads per featured show. The
syndicate feed reaches thousands per week.
As the host of award-winning BAN Radio Show and editor of Black Pearls
Magazine, Ella has interviewed award winning authors, celebrated
journalists, and community leaders such as: the legendary Dr. Maya Angelou,
Alexis M. Herman former U.S. Secretary of Labor, The View's co-host Sherri
Shepherd, Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Leonard Pitts Jr. Also, New York
Times bestselling authors Walter Mosley, Kimberla Lawson Roby, Mary Frances
Berry, Brenda Jackson, Mary B. Morrison, Francis Ray, and Wahida Clark.
In addition to interviewing change agents, she has showcased such top-selling
authors as: Sue Monk Kidd, Dr. Bernard Walker former US astronaut, Dr. Daniel
Black, Dr. Cornell West, Dr. Sampson Davis, Paula Giddings, Sonia
Sanchez, social activists Dr. Dorothy Irene Height and Jayne Cortez, Olympian
Devon Harris, children's book author Eloise Greenfield, and
Flo Anthony host of the syndicated radio shows "Gossip On The
Go With Flo" and "Flo Anthony's Big Apple Buzz.
Black Pearls Magazine,
is an award-winning (AALWS) online literary destination for thousands bookclubs
and social network fans around the globe. Black Pearls Magazine has more than
79,000 subscribers. BPM also has 165,000 loyal newsletter readers. The
newsletter click through rate is at 81% as of August 4, 2013.
Ella D. Curry, the editor-in-chief, has interviewed award-winning actors and
actresses such as Hill Harper, Queen Latifah, Jennifer Hudson, Dakota Fanning,
Pam Grier, Tristan Wilds, Tyrese Gibson, Bern
Nadette Stanis, Eriq La Salle and international motivational speaker Lisa
Nichols from the Secret DVD. While providing media coverage for the
Congressional Black Caucus Author's Pavilion and Book Expo America for the last
6 years, Ella has found that interviewing profound community leaders shaped her
own life and Black Pearls Magazine.
She has interviewed and learned from: Dr. Julianne Malveaux, political
commentator and 15th president of Bennett College; award-winning journalist Gwen
Ifill; Dr. Brenda Greene, Exec. Dir. of the Center for Black Literature, Medgar
Evers College; Annette Gordon-Reed, American historian and Harvard Law School
professor; MC Lyte, BET Lifetime Achievement Award winner; and Lynn Richardson,
the Mortgage Guru and leader of MC Lyte's Hip Hop Sisters Foundation.
MEET THE FOUNDER AND PUBLISHER
Ella D. Curry,
the president of EDC Creations, brings more than twenty-five years of PR and
marketing experience to clients in film, music, publishing and corporate event
planning. Widely recognized as a leading expert on African American
Internet book promotion she is asked to speak and/or moderate panels at literary
events and conferences across the nation. Her client list reads like the
Who's Who Elite of publishing.
Ms. Curry lives in Maryland with daughter and life partner. When she's not
working, she loves to travel, write short stories, and chatting in Internet
groups with her international group of friends. As her entrepreneurial spirit
guides the way upward, she continues to involve herself in challenging, life
If you would like more information or have comments, you may reach her via email
at: email@example.com or visit the parent website at:
www.edc-creations.com. Visit Ella Curry’s Media Room:
are the Black Pearls Magazine and BAN Radio Fans?
on a survey we sent out October 20, 2013 to our email database of
165,000+ subscribers, we found out the following information about our
readers. These numbers are based on 91% participating in the survey. The
readers were surveyed on the Black Authors Network and Black Pearls
Magazine potential to educate and entertain them weekly. Read the
summarized data below to obtain a snapshot of the purchase power of our
readers and subscribers. We use this information to determine our
Age of Subscribers for Black Pearls and BAN Radio
7%----19-29 years old
51%---30-39 years old
37%---40-49 years old
4%---50-59 years old
1%-----60-79 years old
Gender and Sexual Preference
27%----LGBT or Alternate Lifestyle
Race or Cultural Identity of Subscribers
91%----US readers and fans
9%------International readers and fans
Education of Subscribers
5%-----High School Grad Only
Annual Income of Subscribers (only 81% answered)
1%----20k or under
Reading and Shopping Habits of Subscribers
61%--Wanted more diverse races and topics on the radio show
73%--Watch TV online via the networks, Hulu, Crackle or Netflix
77%--Still purchased printed books or read printed books
75%--Own a eReader, iPod or iPad
95%--Have smartphones or iPhones
67%--Post product reviews at online retailers
87%--Purchase based on recommendations vs. paid ads
76%--Have Blog or Tumblr account
86%--Have Twitter accounts
93%--Have Facebook accounts
81%--Have Youtube accounts
88%--Have Pandora accounts
73%--Have Instagram accounts
78%--Have Goodreads accounts
81%--Have Amazon Kindle accounts
19%--Have B&N Nook accounts
94%--Prefer Texting over actual phone conversation
74%--Prefer Facebook over Twitter
81%--Prefer ooVoo or FaceTime over Skype for video chats
85%--Prefer YouTube as video provider
86%--Prefer online media versus printed media
44%--Still buy newspapers, magazines and CDs
85%--Our fans stay online 8 hours or more per day
77%--Check their email at least 5 times per day
84%--Will open email eblasts or newsletters
67%--Subscribe to opt-in email newsletters
91%--Prefer subscriptions to their inbox versus surfing the web
83%--Prefer live author readings over reading pdf excerpts
81%--Download favorites radio shows to share
92%--Download shows to personal listening devices
86%--Tell at least 5 people about the show
87%--Join Twitter chats and Facebook chats
66%--Add the radio widget player to their own blogs
55%--Hate auto-responders and email forwards from friends
54%--Spent more than 6 hours per month researching on Google
Attitudes, Values and Lifestyles
71%-----Read more than 5 printed books per month
78%-----Downloaded more than 10 books per month
63%-----Purchased books after listening to our radio show
53%-----Stated that price determined the purchase of ebooks
66%-----Gave books featured on the show as gifts
51%-----Joined book clubs online or Facebook groups
68%-----Purchase books for children or teen themed books
71%-----Favorite genre, Fiction
35%-----Favorite genre, Motivational
68%-----Favorite genre, Adult Content
49%-----Favorite genre, Non-fiction or poetry
89%-----Shop online weekly
14%-----Homemaker or stay at home parent
88%-----Spend more than $100.00 monthly for online entertainment
68%-----Married over 5 years
47%-----Single, without children
67%-----Single, but with children
82%-----In Committed relationship
68%-----Teenage children in the home
47%-----Caregiver to aging parent or relative
A. Yamina Collins
The Last King went #1 on the Free Amazon Kindle bestsellers list in three
African American literature, historical fantasy, and African-American romance.
The Last King: Book 1, Volume #4 by A. Yamina Collins. Available for download now:
In episode #4 Emmy accepts an invitation to the home of Gilead and Markus - and when she enters their home, a whole new world of wonder opens up to her.
Twenty-eight year Emmy Hughes has never quite fit in---she's six feet tall, dark-skinned, and daydreams of being Galadriel from Lord of the Rings. But when she is badly injured in a car accident that kills her mother, Emmy does not dream of fantastical worlds anymore---she just wants her shattered life to be normal again.
Unfortunately, normalcy is the last thing in store for her once she meets Lake George's newest arrival, Dr. Gilead Knightly. Granted immortality from a line of people whose Great Ancestor marched into the Garden of Eden and ate from the Tree of Life, Gilead has been alive for centuries and has met everyone from Nubian kings to Napoleon.
But Gilead and his eccentric family are also hunted beings because God considers the Edenites' possession of immortality to be theft. And for thousands of years He has dealt with their transgression by sending each of them a "Glitch" ---an unsuspecting human meant to retrieve this stolen "property" of immortality and kill them off.
When Emmy discovers that she is Gilead's Glitch, she is not only thrown into a world of immortals who eat bone marrow, panthers who read minds, and a family whose blood is made of pulsing gold, but she finds herself the target of Gilead's vengeance: he must get rid of her before she gets rid of him.
Easier said than done. Because Glitches are not only an Edenite's greatest threat---they're also their greatest love.
Excerpt The Last King: Book I - Series 1
It is doubtful the Master will ever hear of what is about to take place,
Markus thinks, standing at the bank of this deserted lake. The branches on
the trees around him sway peacefully, and the evening air hums a lullaby.
Markus does not suppose that the Master will hear about this and, really,
what difference should it make if he does? It's just an old homeless guy
that is going to die: Markus feels no guilt about it, so how could his
thoughts give him away?
In a moment, he removes his hand from the old man's mouth because he knows
the poor fool is too stunned to scream anyway---people are always speechless
when they first see Markus's wings, stretched out as they are, twenty feet
on either side of him, and tonight the old man simple blinks and lets
spittle hang from the corners of his lips.
Markus does not know his victim's name, but his victim certainly knows it:
Johnnie is what they call him, Johnnie Kubrick, and his very soul seems to
have unzipped itself from his body and stepped outside of him. He is not
just rigid but catatonic, and he longs for this to be some terrible dream he
will soon wake up from.
But this is no dream, this is reality: there is a man standing before
Johnnie who looks human, yet has glass wings on his back that are yellow and
whose edges taper off to a thin, razor like end. The wings make a sound like
metal crashing against metal as they flap - it is a harsh sound, a cold
sound. And yet the wings themselves do not frighten the old man as much as
what is attached to the wings do.
Johnnie's pale lips tremble.
"Wha---what are you?" he finally stutters. He does not mean to ask
questions. He means to beg for his life because he does not want to die like
this---not in these shabby clothes, near a bed of water where he can easily
be disposed. He wants to die in a warm room, with someone who loves him
holding his hand; Johnny Kubrick wants to die with dignity, different from
the way he lived.
The old man chokes on his tears, wishing he was important again, the sort of
man who would be missed in death, and he tries to recall how he ever became
the sort of person other people diverted their gaze from on the streets. How
had he become nameless, faceless, and useless to the world? When he was a
boy, he never imagined the day his red hair, so straight and neat, would be
constantly matted against his head.
Johnnie wants his mother here with him, so he could take in the soapy smell
that was always on her, and smile at the sight of her emerald green eyes. If
Johnnie's mother were still alive she would shield him from this boogeyman,
and sing to him, like she did that Christmas morning when the cold of winter
snapped at his bones but he happily cradled a shiny new firetruck in his
( Continued... )
© 2014 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the
author, A. Yamina Collins. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the
author's written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes
Excerpt The Last King: Book I - Episode 2
CHAPTER 8 - Her
Kill her, a voice in his head tells him.
Yes, of course, he responds. That's what I have to do.
And how should he do it? Should he follow her home when the lecture is over,
come up behind her in her driveway, or wherever she lives, and snap her neck
like a twig?
Whatever he does, he needs to be cruel. He needs to teach her and the One who
sent her a lesson. Yes, that's it. He will do to her what his brother Micau
did to his own Glitch: something so physically twisted that it would make the
ears of any human who hears about it and finds her remains, shutter.
Slowly he starts to straighten up and just in time. The door to the auditorium
swings open suddenly, and out it walks.
He cannot make out her whole face because her hands are covering her mouth and
nose, but he can see her big eyes, and the alarm in her face.
Two other people are following it - following her, and making a commotion
"Hold your head back," one of them is saying, trying to still the
bleeding woman's franticness.
But blood has already seeped onto her white dress, and Gilead can hear her
saying, "Not again, not again," as she rushes past him.
Not again. So it's happened before. Gilead thinks. Of course it has It
happened the other day, while Gilead was standing outside the restaurant,
didn't it? She was somewhere around the vicinity that night, near the
boardwalk, wasn't she?
In a moment, the woman, looking a bit disoriented no, disappears into the
bathroom and Gilead closes his eyes and bites his lower lip.
Now he knows why he missed the fine print on the flier, and why he had a
desire to come to this lecture in the first place.
Gilead curses under his breath; curses Him with everything he's got.
Her? he thinks, in disgust. Against the greatness of me? That simple-looking
Opening his eyes, he takes the opportunity to move toward the exit as a few
more new comers enter the building. It's all Gilead can do to appear as normal
as possible---he stands up straight and forces himself not to clutch his
Outside, he takes in several quick breaths of air, and doubles over again.
Why should he fear her?
"I will break her," he mutters to himself. "If I have to rip
off her whole face, I will break her."
Something about him saying this brings him a feeling of relief. He is
clear-eyed and focused for a moment, even self-assured, for he knows that once
he makes up his mind about reaching a goal, it's as good as done.
He will kill her tonight, somehow.
But before he can contemplate how to execute his plans, he cups a hand over
his mouth, rushes toward a nearby bush, and vomits onto the leaves and
( Continued... )
© 2014 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author,
A. Yamina Collins. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author's written
permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.
Introduction to the Order
of the Seers Trilogy
by Cerece Rennie Murphy
What would you do if you held infinite power in the palm of your hand?
of the Seers trilogy poses this question within a story that fuses action,
mystery, romance, and adventure in a science fiction novel that keeps you at the
edge of your seat.
of the Seers begins with the journey of Liam and Lilith Knight, a
brother and sister who are hunted by The Guild, a ruthless world organization
that seeks to capture and exploit Lilith’s unique ability as a Seer to
envision the future. Soon after they are forced to leave their home, Lilith and
Liam discover that she is not alone. Other Seers like Lilith are routinely
kidnapped and enslaved by the Guild for the purpose of consolidating wealth and
power around the world. But from within the organization, Marcus Akida, a
captured Seer with powerful visioning capabilities, quietly plots his daring
escape with the help of a beautiful and tortured Seer named Alessandra. When the
escaped Seers are drawn to the same remote commune in Iowa as Liam and Lilith,
they each find a place where they can rebuild their lives and rediscover their
passion for life and love.
As the Guild’s efforts to find them intensifies, the Seers ban together with
outlaws from the commune to fight back against the organization that threatens
their lives – setting off a chain of events that will unleash the full power
of the Seers and change everything we know about the true potential that lies
dormant in each of us.
Red Order - Book II in the Order of the Seers Trilogy continues
the epic battle for freedom which began in Order of the Seers, revealing the
secret motives behind an organization that exists to exploit and a renegade
movement that seeks to usher in the next phase in human evolution.
So begins The
Last Seer - Book III in the Order of the Seers Trilogy - When the
fall of one nemesis unleashes an even greater danger into the world, Lilli, Joel
and the Lost Seers must stand against a new enemy with the means and the will to
destroy all of mankind, starting with those they hold most dear. As the Seers
mobilize to confront this new evil, the Guild tries desperately to uphold the
crumbling world order on which it depends. When their attempts to manage the
crisis fail, the members of the Guild are forced to place themselves at the
mercy of an unlikely ally.
But the Guild isn't the only one interested in maintaining control. An agreement
made in secret threatens to destroy any hope of a peaceful alliance before it
can be made and as the betrayals unfold, no one is safe against a power that
will stop at nothing to get what it wants.
To defeat this threat and ensure the survival of the human race, the Seers must
push the boundaries of their abilities beyond any limits they have known and
risk crossing the line between life and death. How far would you go to protect
what matters most?
Purchase The Last Seer (Book 3 in the Order of the Seers Trilogy)
About the Author
Cerece Rennie Murphy fell in
love with science fiction at the age of seven, watching “Empire Strikes
Back” at the Uptown Theater in Washington, D.C., with her sister and mom.
It’s a love affair that has grown ever since. As an ardent fan of John Donne,
Alice Walker, Kurt Vonnegut and Alexander Pope from an early age, Cerece began
exploring her own creative writing through poetry.
She earned her master’s degrees in social work and international relations at
Boston College and Johns Hopkins School for Advance International Studies,
respectively, and built a rewarding 15-year career in program development,
management and fundraising in the community and international development arenas
– all while appreciating the stories of human connection told in science
fiction through works like Octavia Butler’s “Wild Seed,” Frank Herbert’s
“Dune” and “The X-Files.”
In 2011, Cerece experienced her own supernatural event - a vision of her first
science fiction story. Shortly after, she began developing and writing what
would become the “Order of the Seers” trilogy.
Cerece lives just outside of her hometown of Washington, D.C., with her husband,
two children and the family dog, Yoda.
Books by Cerece
Clairvoyant of Calle Ocho
by Anjanette Delgado
thrilling, hilarious, and mysterious romp." --Patricia Engel, It's Not
Love, It's Just Paris
Two divorces have taught Mariela Estevez that she's better suited to being a
mistress than a wife. Whose heart needs all that "forever after"
trouble? Still, her affair with her married lover, Hector, has become
problematic--especially because he's also a tenant in her apartment building in
the heart of Miami's Calle Ocho in Little Havana. But when Hector is found dead
just steps from Mariela's back door, on the eve of her fortieth birthday, she's
forced to examine her life--and come up with a plan to save it, fast...
Complicating matters, Hector's passing sparks the unexpected return of a gift
Mariela rejected years ago and thought she'd never have to face again:
clairvoyance. Suddenly, Mariela's visions come swiftly and unbidden, as do
revelations about her other tenants. Lost loves, hidden yearnings, old
jealousies--all reside on Calle Ocho. Most of all, Mariela's second sight
awakens her not just to the truth about Hector's death and the secrets in
others' lives--but to the possibilities blooming within her own.
With warmth, wit, and insight, award-winning author Anjanette Delgado explores
one woman's flawed but heartfelt attempt to live and love well, transporting
readers to the center of contemporary Little Havana and a community of uniquely
human, unforgettable characters.
"The Clairvoyant of
Calle Ocho reminds me of why I started reading in the first place--to be
enchanted, to be carried away from my world and dropped into a world more vivid
and incandescent. Anjanette Delgado loves her characters, even the miscreants,
and makes us love them too."
--John Dufresne, author of No Regrets, Coyote
Read an Excerpt from The Clairvoyant of Calle Ocho
No hay peor ciego que el que no quiere ver. There is none more blind than he who
doesn't want to see.
In my life, I've found that this is most true of women married to unfaithful
men. As for the mistress in the equation, the truth is that being the other
woman is a decision. A conscious one. Don't believe any woman who tells you she
didn't know what she was doing when the penis belonging to your husband just
happened to land inside her vagina. Walk away if she starts with "I didn't
know," "We started out as friends," or "By the time I
realized what was happening, it was too late and we were in love." Because
this woman isn't stupid, innocent, or deluded. She's lying.
I can assert this with such conviction because I've been both: the blind woman
married to a man who likes to spread it around and the other woman with no
Or at least that's who I was that afternoon, casually checking into the Hotel
St. Michel in Coral Gables. Me, walking into the freshly cleaned room with its
French hay-yellow walls, blue-and-white chinoiserie-patterned linens, and dark
wood furniture. Me lighting tea lights inside the whiskey glasses I'd lugged
here in my environmentally conscious, recycled cotton "Feed" tote,
before slipping into the sheer, navy blue, boatneck baby-doll I'd picked up at a
Ross Dress for Less discount store for a quarter of its Victoria's Secret price.
And none other than moi, waiting for my married lover, Hector Ferro, to walk
through the door.
Yep. All me.
A new me. An unmarried me. A me without an owner. Where before I'd wasted life
hours straightening my long, wavy black hair because "my husband likes it
this way," I now sported honey-colored, neck-length curls around my
too-pale face and wide-set brown eyes. Where I used to wear A-line skirts to
hide my protruding backside, I now sported snug- enough jeans all the time
(high-waisted, low-waisted, skinny, or destroyed to a literal inch of their
useful lives), like a symbolic uniform, to show I belonged with the strong, the
sexy, and the free.
As I walked around the cozy little room making myself at home, early afternoon
sun shafts of light seemed to slip in through the shutters, igniting the yellow
walls and making it seem as if the whole room were aglow. In that light, it was
easy to imagine I was in Paris instead of Miami, to accept the role of mistress,
to allow myself its perks. I was glowing too, more so at thirty-nine than I ever
had at twenty-nine, and looked as radiant as if I'd just had a facial, thanks to
the green vegetable shakes my neighbor Iris swore by and had taught me to make.
That, and a recipe for Dr. Etti's fruity rooibos tea drink, had helped me
eliminate almost thirty pounds from my five-foot-five-inch frame in mere months.
(Place pineapple and apple peels and a handful of goji berries in a pot of hot
water. Allow to boil. Add a few tea bags of African red bush, also called
rooibos, set aside to cool, and then refrigerate. Drink with a squirt of raw
blue agave nectar for a delicious diuretic.)
Of course, there was more to my glow than tea. I was now, for the first time in
my life, enjoying being the object of a man's reckless desire and nothing more.
I'd played the role of the betrayed wife twice before. Wasn't I entitled to be
on the other side of the broken vows for a change?
A single rap on the hotel room door told me he was here, and I rushed to open
it, loving that he jumped all these hoops for no other reason than to make love
to me, while resting in the complacent knowledge that the unfaithful ways of the
man now slowly and knowingly taking me in with his eyes were someone else's
Hector was in his late forties and attractive in a sophisticated, sexy,
citizen-of-the-world kind of way: strong jaw, dark blue eyes that crinkled at
the slightest smile, ash-brown hair parted on the side like a newscaster's, and
the lean, lanky build of those who can eat what they want without putting on
He'd been a college professor in Argentina and still dressed like one: tan
slacks, slightly rumpled cotton shirts always open to reveal crisp, white
undershirts, and the same careless khaki trench coat that he must have worn
around his Buenos Aires campus, because even in Miami, he never took it off,
rain or shine. I could imagine him walking to classes, absorbed in his thoughts,
never imagining his country's economy would get so bad he'd have to emigrate to
the United States with his wife, a nutritionist of some sort, and use what
savings he'd protected to buy a small bookstore in Miami's far-from-gentrified
He was one of those men whose thinning hair did nothing to diminish the power of
his charm and undeniable masculinity. I could almost see how his unruly brows
coupled with the smile I'd come to know so well, always somewhere between
properly friendly and slightly mischievous, might have been hard to resist for
even the most emotionally stable of his students.
He was smiling that smile now, as his eyes took in my feet and then my hips,
lingering for a moment on my breasts. Next: the outlining of my mouth, and
finally a full stop right into my eyes, before grinning with feigned modesty, as
if the evil of his thoughts were too much even for him.
"Hey," I said.
"Ey," he returned my greeting, forgetting the h, stepping into the
room, and kicking the door shut with his foot before wrapping his arms around me
and walking forward, all the while holding me tight, so that I was forced to
walk backward in a jumbled tango two-step past the suite's little salon and into
the bedroom area, where I heard him toss what I knew would be a book onto the
bed behind me.
"I brought you somesing," he said into my ear, the thick Argentinean
accent that seemed to underline every sound before it came out of his mouth
seeming, to me, even more sexy than usual that day.
I scurried away to see what message might be hidden in the book he'd chosen to
bring me this time. It was the pocket version of Chiquita, a novel about a
real-life Cuban burlesque dancer who drove men crazy in the late 1800s despite
being little more than two feet tall. I smiled. Hector had placed a piece of
cigarette box foil on page 405, marking the beginning of a paragraph that I
proceeded to read out loud while fighting his efforts to liberate my body from
"A scandal like that was in no one's best interest so, with all the pain of
their souls, the lovers had to separate," I read, then closed the book,
"What's wrong, flaca?" he asked, using his favorite endearment for me,
which means "slim" and is common in Argentina.
"Trying to tell me something, mister?"
"What? No! Of course not. The marker, eh, how you say? It must've slipped.
You can see how sophisticated it is." He smiled, taking off the trench and
slipping off his shoes. "Nah, I just love the author. And, you know, he's
local, comes into the store a lot, so, if you like it, I can introduce you to
him one of these days."
"Why? Were you scared I was telling you somesing?"
"Pu-leeze," I said, pursing my lips to the side like a good Cuban.
"You do look a little scared," he said, coming closer with pretend
"Nope. I don't do scared, and, frankly, my dear, you think too damn much of
yourself," I finished, making my voice deep and husky, my best imitation of
He gave me the puzzled look he saved for trying to figure out what movie I was
quoting or referring to.
"Gone with the Wind? 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn'?" I said.
"Aaaaah, my God, why don't you quote books? Books make good quotes."
"It is a book. A book with over a thousand pages I'll never read when
there's a perfectly good movie to tell me the story."
"But if you read the book, you'd know the quote is 'My dear, I don't give a
damn.' None of this 'frankly' business. Simple. As it should be. That's why you
should quote, and read, books."
"Yes, Professor Ferro," I mocked him, making a mental note to buy the
book and read at least the first few chapters, see what I'd been missing.
That was one of the great things about my affair with Hector. Though I never
went to college, I wanted to learn and had long before decided to make up for
the formal education I'd denied myself by reading everything I could get my
hands on. I'd spent countless hours learning all kinds of things: art history,
math, philosophy, politics, biology, and enjoying nothing as much as I enjoyed
fiction. Literary or trashy, it didn't matter. I craved stories and felt
frustrated when my limited education prevented me from fully understanding the
old English expressions in a great love story like Wuthering Heights. (I'm sure
I'm still missing a lot of it, though I've read it twice.) But now, with Hector,
it was like having a private tutor who could unlock any book's secrets. He
called it providing context. I called it finally connecting the dots I'd been
accumulating for years and loved the thrill of "getting it" when he
explained something I'd missed.
"Oooh, forget what I'm saying. A beautiful woman in my hotel room and me a
terrrrible, terrrrrible bore," he was saying now. "Why should I tell
you what to quote? We're different people with different lives. If you want to
watch the movie, you watch the movie, and I'll read the book. Perfect, eh? We'll
complement each other."
"Exactly," I said, unsure I liked this interpretation of us.
"Too bad I'll never know what you're quoting," he said, kissing me,
his hands searching my willing hips, the keys to my common sense relinquished so
many months ago.
"We're not that different," I said, eyes closed, trying to fix what
was bothering me. "You're the one who says we have the story chemistry,
"Wait! What is this?" he asked suddenly, focusing the tips of his
fingers on a particular spot along my outer thigh.
"This," he said seriously, lowering himself until he was sitting on
his haunches, pretending to examine my thigh with his hands, dragging the tip of
his index finger softly over my upper leg, as if outlining something.
"This, eh, like a circle, right here."
"Oh. That. It's a birthmark," I said. Then trying to give the smooth,
round, cinnamon-colored stain a positive spin, I added, "My mother had it
too," as if that settled that and made it a family heirloom.
"A birthmark. Interesting," he said, closing his eyes and kissing the
fleshy top part of my leg where he'd been "tracing."
Then, "Hey! Where did it go?"
I shrugged my shoulders innocently, holding my arms straight and close to my
body in order to help the baby-doll fall to the floor, then putting my hands on
my hips and looking directly into his eyes.
"A vast improvement," he said, eyes slowly traveling up my body,
reaching and meeting my gaze.
"I thought I'd show you I have nothing to hide," I said.
"Clever," he responded, imitating my pure business tone. "Maybe
now we'll be able to find it."
"Maybe," I said, thinking men can be endearing when they're being
ridiculous and preferring this Hector to the one who lived to argue and to
lecture, but could never admit to being wrong.
"Unless you're hiding it," he said, kissing a line across my pelvis.
"You do understand, I must be thorough in my search?" he continued,
effortlessly coming up to my belly button, kissing it, then my right rib cage.
Then, "Wait! I think it may have hidden under here," he said, slipping
his palm under the slight curving of my breast as if to cup it. "Um-huh.
Yes. Right here."
( Continues... )
Excerpted from The Clairvoyant of Calle Ocho by Anjanette V. Delgado. Copyright
© 2014 Anjanette V. Delgado. Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING
CORP. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or
reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
MEET ANJANETTE DELGADO
"When you're going through hell, keep going." -Winston Churchill
Anjanette Delgado is an award-winning novelist, speaker, and journalist who has
written or produced for media outlets such as NBC, CNN, NPR, Univision, HBO and
Vogue Magazine’s Latam and Mexico divisions, and for Telemundo, among others.
She’s covered presidential coups, elections, the Olympics, both Iraq wars and
the 9/11 terrorist attacks.
Early in her career, she became fascinated with heartbreak, the different ways
in which it occurs, and the consequences it brings. Her human-interest
television series “Madres en la Lejanía” won an Emmy award for its
depiction of Latina mothers working as undocumented nannies in the United
States, while living with the consequences of having left their own children
behind in search of a better life.
Her original screenplay for HBO, “Good in Bed,” was a thesis on the life
moments in which sex, love, identity, self, and society collide.
Her first novel, The Heartbreak Pill (Atria Books, 2008, 2009), about a
modern-day Latina enmeshed in a battle between her brain and her heart, won
first prize at the Latino International Book Award for Best Romance in English,
was a Triple Crown Winner for Best Romance Book in Spanish in 2010, and first
prize for Best Romance in Latino Literacy’s “Books into Movies”
competition in 2011.
The Clairvoyant of Calle Ocho is Anjanette’s latest novel. Set in vibrant
Little Havana, it tells the story of Mariela Esteves, a woman whose choice to
renounce her true calling results in two failed marriages, a brush with murder,
and a lot of heartbreak. It will be released in the Fall of 2014 by Kensington
Books Publishing, and in Spanish in the U.S. and Mexico by Penguin Random House.
Both novels have also been optioned recently for film and television.
Anjanette has an MFA in Creative Writing from Florida International University
and was admitted as a contributor to the prestigious Bread Loaf Writing
Conference in 2013 and in the upcoming 2014 session. She teaches writing at the
Miami International Book Fair’s Florida Literacy Arts Center and lives in
Miami with her husband Daniel and her mini dachshund Chloe. She is a native of
Puerto Rico, has two daughters, and drinks a café con leche made with almond
coconut milk every morning at precisely 7:45 a.m. You can learn more or connect
with Anja via this site: www.anjanettedelgado.com.
The Clairvoyant of Calle Ocho by Anjanette Delgado
General, Women's Fiction
Released on August 26, 2014
Bishop by Patricia G. Pope
Bishop Sullivan B.
Kirk, a charismatic and wildly popular church leader, is challenged beyond the
comfort zone of his well-ordered and successful lifestyle when two young boys, a
vengeful father, and the transparency of truth all converge to bring Babylon to
After years of successfully providing educational and recreational programs for
numerous underprivileged pre-teen and teenage boys, the secrets, lies and
deceptions that Bishop Sullivan B. Kirk has worked hard to shield from everyone,
is now about to destroy his well-ordered and successful lifestyle; and,
possibly, land him in jail. Two of his most trusted young followers, now of the
age of consent, have come forth to announce that they have been sexually abused
by Bishop Kirk since they were young boys in the Bishop’s care. And they have
hired one of the city’s most formidable attorneys to sue the Bishop for a huge
amount of punitive and financial damages.
Jabazz Williams, a senior youth leader and paid employee of Bishop Kirk’s
Walking in Faith Church, and Antwan Graham, his best friend, have recently been
cast aside by the Bishop in favor of younger boys. They can’t get the Bishop
to return their phone calls; he refuses to have anything more to do with them,
and they are angry. Together, they agree that it is time to “bring the Bishop
down.” After all, they have been with the Bishop since they were five or six
years old; and they know what the Bishop has been up to, then and now. Lately,
they have come to see the Bishop for who and what he really is---a pedophile.
Charismatic and popular, Bishop Kirk is head of one of Atlanta’s largest and
most successful Black churches; and he is not about to allow his young accusers
to bring down his empire and ruin his name and reputation. But what the Bishop
does not know is that others are beginning to suspect the same truth about him;
including Josh Crenshaw, owner of Titan Arms Security, the firm that provides
personal bodyguard and protective services to the Bishop. Josh’s best friend
and business partner, Devon Spencer, is even more committed to blowing the
whistle on the Bishop, even if it means the potential loss of the services
contract with the Bishop; or of jeopardizing his relationship with Josh.
For nearly ten years, Josh Crenshaw has quietly managed to look the other way in
order to maintain his lucrative contractual obligations as head of security, as
well as his loyalty to the Bishop. But, lately, sparked by his fiancée
Wendy’s concerns about the rumors swirling around the Bishop’s activities
with young boys, Josh is becoming increasingly concerned that what he knows
might place his personal integrity at risk; not to mention the possible legal
ramifications that could ensue.
Devon Spencer, on the other hand, possesses no conflicts about his willingness
to see justice done by blowing the whistle on Bishop Kirk. So he offers his
support to Jabazz and Antwan, and the stage is set for a confrontation that
threatens to involve the entire Black community of Atlanta. Along with Darryl
Sawyer, another former favorite of the Bishop, the four of them present their
case to Attorney Judy Goldberg, and the stage is set for a potentially dirty and
Once the matter is settled, Jabazz’ estranged father, consumed with guilt for
abandoning Jabazz and his mother when his son was a baby, vows to avenge his
son’s treatment at the hands of the Bishop; plotting to take matters into his
own hands. In his drug-induced state, he sets out to confront the Bishop, in
what may prove to be a lethal and inevitable climax.
Excerpt from THE BISHOP by Patricia Pope
Wendy one of the female characters in the novel has come to a crossroad in her
life where she has run out of options!
She promised Jesus and all the saints that if she could survive this deadly sin,
she would turn her life around forever. She promised that she would make a
choice and stand by that choice under all circumstances. That choice would be
God. She needed just one more chance. A chance to stand.
The fourth week of fasting from drugs, food and praying, she opened her email
and the results of her HIV test stated: negative. One other line warning her to
be tested again in six months seemed irreverent but she understood to be
necessary. She sensed the tender voice of Jesus as she had not experienced
before and a realization that held her steadfast.
The Holy Spirit touches the heart and the mind, the spirit and the soul of those
called. No man, no demon or any form of command can change that or control God's
will. Falling to her knees for a second time, she thanked him for replacing her
fear with faith. She went into drug rehab that afternoon. Because it was her
third trip to rehab, she was placed on the outer perimeter somewhere near
London's mountain range in a therapeutic community.
( Continued... )
© 2014 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of Dwan
Abrams on behalf of Patricia Pope, the author. Do not reproduce, copy or use
without the author's written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional
Purchase from Smashwords
DISCLAIMER: This book is based on some true events, however, has been
fictionalized and all persons appearing in this work are fictitious. Any
resemblance to real people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Meet the Author
Patricia G. Pope is an award-winning author, featured speaker, and celebrated
A sought after speaker, Patricia was referred to as a “younger Maya
Angelou,” during a book signing and a CBS affiliated filming in Harrisburg,
PA. She responded by stating “Having my name in the same sentence with Maya
Angelou is all-inspiring. Maya Angelou is of royalty in the literary world and
the world of humanity.”
Patricia is the holder of many awards and medals with a degree in Drug
Management and Supervision. She studied drama in Los Angeles, CA including a two
year stint with Jed Horner at Screens Gems. She is a retired Federal employee
and is noteworthy as the first black, female, minority to be promoted within the
ranks of the Public Safety Service. She views writing as her “go to” stress
“Colored Waiting Room”, which deals with the conflict of a Black female
entangled with the good ole boy system in rural East Tennessee, is an award
wining novel and has received rave reviews. A second novel, “The Bishop”,
recently released, examines misconduct and misconceptions within the wall of
modern day churches. Both novels have been optioned for major movies with
“Colored Waiting Room” currently in development.
Awards: Mary Walker Foundations Image Award, Forensic Award, Black History Month
Honoree, Bessie Smith Foundation Honoree, Operation Push Honoree, Honoree of
Positive Minds Book Club, Honoree of Friends of Black Children.
Patricia G. Pope Contact Info
the Sake of Love by Dwan Abrams
Spencer’s life seems to be coming together. He’s engaged to be married to
the love of his life, Bria Murray, and he’s an up and coming rapper who
recently signed a major record deal. When Spade gets diagnosed with a rare form
of cancer, rather than lean on his fiancée for strength, he calls off the
wedding, leaving Bria feeling alone and rejected.
In an effort to move on with her life, Bria pours her energy into running her
new company, The Spa Factory. Kerryngton Kruse, CEO of the record label that
signed Spade, begins to pursue Bria romantically. Bria finally allows herself to
develop feelings for Kerryngton, only to discover that Spade has different
plans. Caught in the middle of a love triangle, Bria must make the difficult
decision between love and money. Does she follow her heart and marry the one she
can’t live without, or does she marry for security, in hopes that love will
Excerpt: For the Sake of Love by Dwan Abrams
When they returned, Chance had freshened up and changed clothes. They were right
on-time for one of Chance’s corny jokes.
“Knock, knock,” Chance said.
“Who’s there?” Nya and Kola said in unison.
“Doris who?” They continued to indulge him.
“Doris locked; that’s why I’m knocking.”
As lame as Bria thought that was, Chance’s joke actually got a chuckle out of
“Ready to grub?” Chance asked.
“Yeah,” Bria answered, patting Chance’s oversized belly. “I can see that
you’ve been doing a little bit too much grubbin’.”
“As long as my pookie butt likes it, it’s all good.” He gave Nya a hug and
kiss on the cheek.
“Negro, please. Your plump behind better go to the gym before you run, I mean
walk, around here looking as fat and bloated as the Goodyear Blimp,” Bria
“Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” he said to Nya. He turned
his face up and stared at her.
“Just call me Switzerland. I’m neutral,” she said.
“That’s right thickalicious.” She acted like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy
and poked his belly with her finger. “Now what?”
“Why don’t you take the Tyson approach and bite me?”
“Too much grease and blubber is bad for my cholesterol. “I’ll have to pass
on biting you today. Thank you just the same.”
“Kids, kids, please,” Nya interjected.
Kola and Spade were busy cracking up laughing.
“Let’s eat,” Nya said.
They went in the kitchen and fixed their plates. The food smelled delectable.
They said grace and then ate until they got the ‘itis.’ The food was so good
that the only sounds being made were chewing and finger licking.
When Chance finished eating, he said, “Now I got the black people syndrome.”
He rubbed his stomach.
They laughed and Spade added, “I feel ya.”
“Anybody want dessert?” Nya offered while clearing the table. She and Bria
usually ate a scoop of vanilla ice cream after dinner.
“Not right now,” Chance said.
“None for me,” Spade echoed that sentiment.
“What cha got?” Kola asked.
“Ice cream or cake?” Nya told her.
“I’ll take a slice of cake, but I can get it.” She pushed her chair back
and got up. The ladies went in the kitchen and fixed their desserts. They
returned to the table already eating their sweet treats.
“I don’t know how you all have the room,” Chance said. “I feel like a
“And you look like one too.” Bria couldn’t resist. She burst out laughing.
In between laughs she managed to say, “I’m just kidding.” Bria realized
that in the presence of a stranger her teasing may seem a bit harsh, but
that’s just how she and Chance have always interacted. Chance mean mugged her.
“You’ll get used to these two,” Nya said to Kola. “They act like real
brother and sister.”
( Continued... )
© 2014 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author,
Dwan Abrams. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author's written
permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.
Barnes & Noble
by Nakia R. Laushaul
A wise man leads his family by example.
TEN LONG YEARS LEFT TO ROT IN A NURSING HOME, LUTHER BENNETT is plum sick of
this life. Paralyzed from the waist down after suffering a series of strokes,
the man who once held power, wealth and prestige in the palm of his hands, now
has nothing at all unless you can count his disturbing memory bank of dreams
from his past. Luther’s son, SAMUEL BENNETT, heir to the misfortune of his
father’s wealth has grown weary of slipping into Luther’s shoes and
desperately desires an identity all his own. Trapped in a relationship that
doesn’t exist and a mounting mistrust of all men, Luther’s only daughter,
LYNNE BENNETT just can’t seem to find the love and validation that should have
come from her father.
As their lives begin to unravel, the Bennett family must finally make a
decision. Live the way they’ve always lived—rooted in secrets, denial and
festering anger or change. Can Luther, a mere shell of his former self, save his
shattered family from the devastating purgatory he’s created?
There will come a time when wealth means absolutely nothing. And then what? Meet
“Come on, baby, be nice for a couple of hours,” I said, entering our master
bedroom. I had planned to reason with her one last time before I left her at
home—alone with her attitude for company. I wasn’t up for another one of
Marian’s hateful moods. She yanked the closet door open and shuffled hangers
“If this was Woody, would you want me to miss his graduation?” I already
knew that the answer was a firm, no. It had always been clear that Marian cared
very little for my other two children. “You have five minutes and I’m
leaving.” I swallowed my drink.
Marian knew what she was doing when she put that skirt on. It was her way of
upstaging Sylvia, who was very modest. I didn’t feel like a woman war that
night. It was all about Samuel. I wanted my wife and my other son, Woody, there,
but I wasn’t going to fight. She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips together.
The silent treatment again. I walked into the bathroom, washed my face, and
gargled with a little mouthwash to rinse the bitter taste of bourbon out of my
“I’m sorry for getting mad, honey. You’re right.” Marian had walked up
behind me and wrapped her hands around my waist from the back. She rested her
head between my shoulder blades. “It’s just that I love this skirt and never
get to wear it,” she said, whining.
“Get the camera and I’ll take a picture of you wearing it to remember how
good you look in it,” I said jokingly. “But you still have to change or
I’m leaving you behind.
“Okay.” Marian went back into the bedroom and I was so glad that she had
agreed to change. A few moments later, she called out to me, “Come on, honey.
I’m ready for my close-up.”
My father stopped and turned around slowly.
“What is this?” My mother barely whispered, tears still pouring down her
“I’m sorry, Sylvia. I was going to tell you. I—I. . .” He held up his
one free hand in a gesture of apology. “Samuel? Samuel.”
“Yes, sir?” I jumped to attention. It was the first time since I had been
home that I had been acknowledged. As I walked toward him, half of me hated my
father and felt guilty for it. The other half of me didn’t and loved him
unconditionally. Either way, I still had to speak to him with a respect that I
didn’t feel. I folded up the acceptance letter and put it in my back pocket.
“Come and get your mama. I’m going to need you to be the man of the house
for a little while. Take care of your sister too. I’ll be back to check on
you.” He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t address my mother any
further. He walked out the door and closed it behind him.
My mother used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her face, leaving brown and black
smudges on it. Then she closed her eyes, fanned her face with her hands, and let
out a long sigh. And as if nothing had happened, she asked, “What’d the
“Huh? What letter?” I asked, confused.
She didn’t say anything more, but waited until I caught on to what she was
“Oh, it said I got accepted,” I said dryly. Although I was excited, it just
didn’t seem right to celebrate getting accepted to Texas A&M when my
father had just walked out the door, most likely for good now that he’d gone
off and married Marian.
“Well, that’s good for you, son. I guess you’re gonna be an Aggie man just
like your daddy.” She tried to smile. “That’s really good news, honey.”
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