Friday, June 09, 2006

EXCERPT: When A Sistah’s FED UP


When A Sistah’s FED UP by
Monica Frazier Anderson





Dallas Morning News Bestseller, Black Images Bestseller, Booking Matters Magazine Bestseller





Inside
City Hall, Diamond took dictation while Faith looked over her calendar and gave
instructions. Then, Faith grabbed her purse and briefcase. “Come on, Son, we need to get on the
road.” Trey was sitting on the couch,
looking like a lost puppy. Suddenly,
Faith froze, “Oh no. What about Preston? We can‘t
leave without him.” She picked up the phone.
“I need to call him,” she said.



“So
nice to be remembered,” Preston said, walking
through the door of her office.



“I’m
sorry, Preston,” Faith apologized. “I’m so worried about Sloane I can’t think
straight. Diamond said she tried to
reach you.”



“Yes,
that nit wit called and insisted on speaking to me in the middle of my meeting
with the couple who wants to buy the million-dollar
mansion in Grover
Heights
.”



Faith
looked at Diamond. She clearly did not
appreciate that “nit wit” label.
Surprisingly, she held her tongue.
It was about to poke a hole in her right cheek, but she managed to
restrain herself. With a roll of her
neck, Diamond strutted back to her desk.



Faith‘s
grip on her briefcase tightened like the muscles in her neck. Preston,
please don’t insult my staff. I would
hope our daughter’s health is more important than anything but, if not, why
don’t you go back to work, and I’ll call you later?”

Mom.
Dad.” Trey pleaded.



“Why
are your eyes so red, boy?” Preston barked.



Trey
jumped, startled by the volume of his father‘s inquiry. He stood up and said,
“Because, Dad, unlike you, I have feelings.”



Preston
was speechless. Trey stormed out. Raymond gave Faith a reassuring look before
he followed in those angry footsteps.



“Why
is he always around?” Preston asked, his eyes
boring holes in Raymond’s back.



He works here, fool. Faith bit her tongue and looked around the
office one last time to make sure she hadn‘t forgotten anything. “We should take separate cars,” she said. “You may have to rush back, and I intend to
stay as long as Sloane needs me.”



“Are
you implying I’m not a good father?”



“You
tell me,” she said, putting on her sunglasses.





The
car was quiet during the two-and-a-half hour drive to Austin.
It was normally a three-hour drive, but Preston
pushed 90 all the way down I35. When
they arrived at the hospital, Faith had a moment of déjà vu. Not long ago, she
was the patient cocooned amidst the urgent whispers, unfamiliar sounds, and
constant state of crisis.



The
volunteer at the information desk directed them to the Telemetry Floor on the
second level. They took the elevator
up, exited, and turned left as directed.
They paused at the door to Sloane’s room, each hesitant to be the first
to enter.



Trey
spoke up. “I‘ll wait out here while y‘all talk to her.” Preston and
Faith stared at him. Trey tugged at the
do rag covering his braids and slumped onto the floor.



A
nurse was checking the round patches stuck to Sloane’s chest when Faith and Preston entered the room.
Preston turned around immediately. It’s okay sir, I’m
done,” the nurse said, pulling Sloane’s gown up to her neck.”



There
were two beds, but only one was occupied.
The room smelled like Sloane’s favorite fragrance, Gucci Rush. In a blink, Faith noted the IV, the heart
monitor, the blood pressure cuff hanging on the wall, and the weary look in her
daughter’s eyes. She leaned over and
embraced Sloane. Their tears mingled.



When
the nurse finished taking vital signs, Preston
sat on the other side of the bed and put his arms around both of the
women. “We love you very much, Sloane,”
he said, “and no matter what it is, we will beat this thing together.”



“Thank
you, Daddy,” Sloane wailed. Soon, they
were all crying.
The pathetic sounds coming through the door prompted Trey to enter. He stood behind his mother and joined the
group hug. Faith lamented that it took
something like this to bring her family together.



When
she had composed herself, Faith asked, “Honey, what happened? Your professor said you had a seizure or
something. Have the doctors determined
what’s wrong with you?”



Sloane
looked at their expectant faces and broke down again.



“You’re
not dying are you?” Preston asked.



Faith
frowned at him over Sloane’s head.
Sloane blew her nose on the tissue Faith was holding for her like she
was a little girl in preschool. She
wiped her red eyes with the back of her hands and took a deep breath.



“I
had planned to tell you, but I wanted to wait until after school was out.” She paused.
The hum of the medical equipment heightened the suspense. “I fainted in class today. I guess my body was jerking around a little
on the ground and that’s why they thought I had a seizure. The doctor says that’s normal when…” She
stopped again.



“When
what?” Preston
insisted. Faith tried to hide the
disappointment on her face because she already knew what was coming next.



“When
you’re pregnant.”
Sloane finally said.



“Mary, mother of Jesus!” Preston exclaimed, slapping his palm to his
forehead. He stood up and stomped his
feet like a kid having a tantrum. “I
need some air,” he announced, leaving the room abruptly. Trey
moved to the lone chair in the room and sat down. Faith remained on the bed, tapping the sheets
with her finger.



When
she was as composed internally as she appeared externally, she hugged Sloane
again and kissed her cheek. “Are you
alright, honey?”



“Yes,
Mother. The doctor said I was
dehydrated. I’ve been going non-stop
lately, planning the Spring Formal for the sorority. I guess I haven’t been taking very good care
of myself.”



“Has
anything like this happened before?”



“No. I was sitting there taking notes while Dr.
Neal was going on and on about constitutional rights. I remember feeling a little lightheaded, and
the next thing I knew, the paramedics were putting me on a stretcher.”



“Is
the baby alright? How far along are
you?”



“The
baby is fine. I’m only five or six weeks
pregnant. They did an ultrasound and
they’re going to do more tests as a precaution, but, really, I’m fine.”



“Sloane
what your father said was true. We do
love you no matter what. We’ll do what
we can to help you, but this pregnancy is a result of your choices. It’s obvious you have some very important
decisions to make. And since you have to
live with the consequences, please pray about this and choose wisely.” She patted Sloane’s hand and said softly, Take it from a
woman who knows.”



Faith
was devastated. Her worst nightmares
were becoming reality. She wanted to run
from the room in retreat like her husband, but instead she sat with her
daughter and waited.





That
night in their suite at the Four Seasons Hotel, Faith and Preston
discussed Sloane.



“Why
won’t she tell us who the father is?” Preston
said for the thirtieth time, cracking his knuckles. He felt helpless and weak. His eyes filled with tears again. His once perfect world was falling
apart. He remembered the little girl who
loved to go for pony rides on his knee and screamed in delight when he came
home from work. That little girl was now
a pregnant woman who didn’t trust her daddy anymore. He blew his nose on a tissue and looked at
Faith.



Faith
took a gulp of her second cocktail.
“She’s protecting him.”



Preston
snorted, “He can’t be much of a man. He
didn’t even show up at the hospital tonight.”



“Maybe
he doesn’t know.” Faith massaged her
temples. The cocktails and four Advil
hadn’t touched her pounding headache. In
her haste, she had forgotten her prescriptions.
She couldn’t sleep without her pills, and she needed rest.



Preston
paced from wall to wall. “I didn’t press
her tonight because of her condition, but I’m not leaving Austin until I find out who the father
is.” He clenched and unclenched his
fist. He imagined himself pounding the
baby’s father in the face. He wondered
if Faith knew more about this than she was telling him. She talked to the girl several times a
week. How could she not know?



“Don’t
push her right now. She’s under a lot of
stress. I don’t think she planned for us
to find out this way. Maybe she’s trying
to protect me because of the election.
I’m shocked she’s been having unprotected sex. We’ve warned her about that a million times.”



“She
shouldn’t be having sex at all, unprotected or not.”



“Must
I remind you of your own past to stop you from being so judgmental? You do remember why we got married don’t
you?”



“We
got married because I fell in love with you,” he said in a beleaguered tone.



“Was
that before or after I got pregnant?” she asked in a voice devoid of emotion.



“I
was going to marry you anyway, after you graduated.”



“Was
that a little secret you were keeping to yourself because you never mentioned
the subject of marriage until I got pregnant and my father threatened to break
your neck. She
crunched an ice cube in her mouth and glanced at the bloody images on CNN.



He followed her gaze.
He picked up the remote and turned off the television. She looked at him stonily. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have married me
if you hadn’t gotten pregnant?” He was
taken aback. It had never occurred to
him that marrying him was not her highest pursuit in college.



“I
don’t know, Preston. I would have finished college, that’s for
sure.” I sure as hell wouldn’t marry your self-righteous ass now, she
thought.



He
was so affectionate when they were younger.
And so romantic. But he didn’t even select her Valentine and
anniversary gifts himself anymore. Inez
did it. Fortunately, Inez had good
taste, but it wasn’t the same.



“You
did finish college,” he said defensively.



“Yes,
after the children started school and you got your career off the ground.” She stretched and yawned. “I’m sure we would
have gotten married eventually. I would
have preferred to do things in order, but that doesn’t mean I regret having my
children.” She watched him pace back and
forth across the room. “Let it go. I was just reminding you no one is
perfect. She made a mistake. We’re her parents. We have to help her. If the father comes around, that’s great, but
if not, I do not want Sloane to quit school.
She cannot support herself, let alone a baby, without a good education.”



“You’re
right,” he admitted. “She needs our
support now, not our condemnation.” He
sat down on the bed, biting his thumbnail.



After
leaving the hospital, they stopped at the mall and the grocery store to
purchase a few essentials. Faith removed
the tags from her new pajamas. “I’m
going to take a shower,” she said.
“Would you make me another drink, please dear?”



“Why
are you drinking so much? You rarely
touched hard liquor in the past, now you want a cocktail every night. Why can’t you drink juice or water?”



She
froze at the door to the bathroom.
Without turning around, she said softly, “Some sorrows don’t drown in
water, Preston.”



WHEN A SISTAH'S FED
UP/AuthorHouse/Trade Paperback




Read more at www.drmoeanderson.com!
Available online or wherever books are sold.



JUNE LITERARY NEWS

BLACK ROMANCE ANTHOLOGIES SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Nationally bestselling and award-winning authors Niobia Bryant and Kim Louise are seeking submissions of short stories for an upcoming African-American romance anthology.

We want to showcase the very best romance authors out there, whether published or unpublished. We are looking for stories that capture the very essence of a loving relationship and will resonate and remain with the reader long after they close the book. This anthology is an attempt to honor the romance writers who blazed the way, uplift the writers of today, and open the doors for those to come. We want an anthology that will properly represent the African-American romance genre in the same tradition that contemporary African-American fiction was represented by Terry Mcmillan's Breaking Ice: An Anthology of Contemporary African-American Fiction and Clarence Major's Calling the Wind:Twentieth Century African-American Short Stories.

Anthology Concept
* The stories must have at least one love scene.

* The relationships must be heterosexual.

* Stories should be in one of the following genres:

Contemporary Romance
Romantic Suspense
Romantic Comedy
Futuristic Romance (science fiction)
Paranormal Romance
Fantasy Romance
Historical Romance
Chick-Lit
Inspirational
Interracial (One of the characters must be African-American)

Submission Guidelines
* All stories must be written in proper manuscript formatting--12pt. Courier New, double spaced with one-inch margins.

* Stories should be 2500 - 3500 words (10-14 pages with proper formatting)

* E-mail your story to BlackRomanceAnthologies@yahoo.com. No attachments will be accepted. Please paste your submission into the body of the e-mail. Any stories sent as an attachment will be deleted. Please put SUBMISSION in the subject line.

* Be sure to include your name, contact information, and your story's genre on a cover sheet WITH THE STORY. The final selection process will take a while, so if your contact information changes, please keep us informed.

* Only original stories that have not been published in any format are allowed.

* Just one story per author and please submit to us exclusively.

* All stories may be edited for content and length.

* Submissions will be accepted June 1, 2006 until September 1, 2006.


Compensation
* There will be a payment for each story accepted for the final publication. Each contributor will receive copies of the completed project and a payment of $100.00.

* Also every contributor will be able to include a bio in the Contributors Section of both the book and the official web site.

Please feel free to forward this information to all interested parties.

We look forward to reading your stories.

Thank you,
Niobia & Kim
http://www.geocities.com/blackromanceanthologies/index.html

*****************************************************************
Durham, North Carolina to Host Faith-Based Arts Conference

Three day event showcasing the talents of gifted authors currently publishing in the Christian and Inspirational Fiction arena.

Raleigh, NC (PRWEB) June 8, 2006 -- Readers, poets and aspiring writers throughout North Carolina and as far away as Washington State will convene Durham at the Sheraton Imperial Hotel & Convention Center to attend the 2nd Annual Faith-Based Arts Conference on June 30, 2006.

The three day event will showcase the talents of a wide-ranging spectrum of gifted authors such as Angela Benson, Stacy Hawkins-Adams, Linda Windsor, and Patricia Haley among others currently publishing in the Christian/Inspirational Fiction Arena.

Workshops for aspiring writers and published authors will be held on Friday, while readers enjoy book club roundtable discussions with pre-selected reads. On Saturday, local author Dr. Gail Hayes will be the luncheon keynote speaker. She is the bestselling author of Daughters of the King. Motivational speaker, Lynetta Jordan will be the morning speaker for the Gospel Breakfast held Sunday morning.

“The theme for this year’s conference is The Holiness of the Gift. I think it’s important that we as faith-based artists understand that our gift is a ministry and that the words we write or speak today can save someone’s tomorrow,” says national bestselling author, Jacquelin Thomas who is the founder and coordinator of the event.

###

Press Contact: Jacquelin Thomas
Company Name: Faith-Based Literary Events, Inc.
Phone: 919-761-8329
Website: www.faithbasedarts.com

*****************************************************

WIN AN AUTOGRAPHED COPY OF JUMP AT THE SUN BY KIM MCLARIN!

Enter to win an autographed copy of JUMP AT THE SUN, Kim McLarin’s provocative new novel that USA Today compared to Terry McMillan’s, Waiting to Exhale, and Toni Morrison’s, Beloved.

Kim McLarin is giving away 10 autographed copies of her new novel. JUMP AT THE SUN (Harpercollins, July 2006) explores the challenges of mothering and being mothered in a complex world, witnessed through the lives of three generations. About JUMP AT THE SUN, USA Today wrote, “...her daring novel has the fire-breathing sass of Terry McMillan's Waiting to Exhale and the soul-searching depth of Toni Morrison's Beloved...honest and surprising and provocative...refreshing on a hot summer day.”

To enter, visit www.kimmclarin.com, read the excerpt from chapter 1 of JUMP AT THE SUN, and answer the following questions:

1) What is the full name of Grace’s mother?
2) On what day does Grace’s mother say she should be careful?

Send an email to kim@kimmclarin.com with the following information:

1) Your answers
2) Name
3) Email address

Contest deadline: July 31, 2006
One entry per person. Winners will be randomly selected and notified by email. Winners will have to provide a mailing address to receive free copy. Names of winners will be posted on www.kimmclarin.com.

Kim McLarin, is an award-winning journalist and the author of the critically-acclaimed novels TAMING IT DOWN and MEETING OF THE WATERS. She is a former staff writer for The New York Times, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Greensboro News & Record and the Associated Press. She is currently writer-in-residence at Emerson College in Boston.

Reading group guide available at www.kimmclarin.com. ISBN: 0060528494; William Morrow/Harpercollins; Release date: 07/03/2006
**********************************
CHESAPEAKE ROMANCE WRITERS
FALL HAVEN RETREAT

WRITERS FIRST
2006

October 27-29 2006
Airfield 4H Conference Center
Wakefield, Va.
http://www.crwrwa.org/

*********************************
CHESAPEAKE ROMANCE WRITERS

READER APPRECIATION LUNCHEON AND BOOKSIGNING
10:00AM JULY 8, 2006

Russell Memorial Library
Chesapeake, Virginia
Contact Chesapeake Romance Writers for details
www.CRWRWA.ORG

****************************

Working Title: The Midnight Clear (as in, It Came Upon the Midnight Clear)

Working Subtitle: Stories of love, hope and inspiration

How many pages/words should I write?

Each co-author will write one short story consisting of twelve to fifteen pages (double-spaced) in length….approximately 4,000 to 4,500 words each story.

What is the layout of the book?

Each co-author will have his/her bio, picture, and contact information printed at the end of his/her story. If spacing permits, a color photo of each co-author will also be placed on the back cover of the book.

What is the theme of the book?

Christmas

What are the writing guidelines?

The genre is strictly Christian fiction and should be double-spaced and in 12-point type (Times New Roman, Ariel or Courier font only). We are looking for a variety of topics to be addressed in stories: family drama, teen fiction, untimely death, love found, male issues, female issues, marital issues, church issues, etc. Stories can be romantic, dramatic, humorous, suspenseful and/or mysterious in nature. However, each story MUST have a Christ-centered theme and be set during the Christmas season. Happy endings are not required, but each story should end with divinely ordered closure and not in chaos. Absolutely no profanity, sexually explicit or vulgar language permitted. Please keep within aforementioned page/word count, but make story complete.

What are the submission guidelines?

Short stories must be submitted via email to: kendra@knb-publications.com. Attach submissions to email in a WORD document. Do not place submissions as text in the body of the email.

How will stories be chosen for inclusion?

Providing submitted stories meet writing guidelines and are deemed well-written and engaging, they will not be refused. Therefore inclusion is a matter of promptness. Stories are reviewed on a first come, first serve basis and there is only room for nineteen (19).

How will the book’s editing, cover design, layout and book printing be handled?

Everything will be taken care of by KNB Publications, LLC. All you will have to do is create and submit your story, along with your bio and high-resolution photo (300 dpi). The rest is left to us. The finished product will be 5 ½ x 8 ½” with an eye-catching, full-color glossy cover. As with all books produced through KNB Publications, LLC, The Midnight Clear will be professionally edited, bound and printed. Upon the book’s completion, each co-author will have his/her copies of the book shipped to the address he/she provides. Each co-author will be charged actual shipping costs for the delivery of their books prior to shipping. No COD’s.

How will the book be marketed and sold?

Each co-author will receive 250 books and is responsible for the marketing of his/her own personal inventory of books. KNB Publications, LLC will have the book listed on Amazon.com and have it listed with our major distributor so that it will be available for national chain bookstores to order. This gives you MAJOR exposure and we are taking care of it for you! Co-authors cannot return unsold books from personal inventory to KNB Publications, LLC for refund. This is your opportunity to successfully market yourself and to take advantage of your moment to shine!

What is the cost to each participating co-author?

**This price INCLUDES ALL BOOK PRODUCTION EXPENSES: Cover Design, Editing, Layout and Printing. The cost is only $750.00 plus actual shipping for each co-author. (See order form for payment options)

How will you make money from participating?

When you sell your initial 250 books (at $15.00 per copy) you will gross $3,750.00! Since your investment is only $750.00, your net profit (money in your pocket) is $3,000!!! You will then have more than enough money to reorder and the profits will be even greater on the second batch of books sold. Cost will be only $2.50 per book (plus shipping) for a reorder (250 books is the minimum). Just think: If you reorder 500 books and sell them at $15.00 per book, you will gross $7,500.00! Your net profit would be $6,250.00!!!

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Are you promoting your book?

SORMAG is a great place to promote your book. We have 16,000 visitors a month and they are looking for great books to read.

If you’re an author click below to find out about our low rates.

http://www.sormag.com/AUTHOR.html

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***New Promotion for writers of erotica and urban fiction.***

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We look forward to helping you promote your books.

Monday, June 05, 2006

AUTHOR INTRO: Savannah J


SAVANNAH J

Savannah J. was born in Wilmington, Delaware into a working class family where her love for reading was fostered. Much of her free time as a child was spent at the local library. Her interests and talents in the Arts, both Literary and Musical were cultivated during her college years. She chose to forgo a music career and instead became a nurse. Her experiences in working with families from all walks of life later influenced her writing. Savannah J. says that through her stories, she “has a desire to show others that there is always hope.”

TOWARD THE LIGHT


Toward the Light is an edgy, contemporary love story with a little dose of Southern charm. This beautifully written story about love, redemption, and transformation follows the troubled life of Adaliah, who struggles to shed his past and embrace a bright future with Sable, the woman who haunts his dreams.

Visit Savannah at: www.savannahjpublications.com

Thursday, June 01, 2006

FEATURED AUTHOR: Nishawnda Ellis

SORMAG: Please give the readers a brief bio on you the person and the writer.

Nishawnda Ellis:
I was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts and attended Hampton University in Hampton Virginia where I earned a Bachelors of Science degree in Nursing. Nonetheless, my passion and imagination led me to pursue another dream, writing. Juggling a full-time and part-time job, I financed my life long goal of becoming a published author by creating my own publishing company Kindle Eyes Books to house my two self published titles, Snowed, A Lesson In Love and Wives and Girlfriends. I currently reside in Boston and continue to work as a Registered Nurse, Writer and new Mom to my baby girl Niaomi. I’m also working on three upcoming novels, Mr. High Maintenance, Street Anthem and the sequel to Wives and Girlfriends and am the founder of the Boston Book Bazaar, an annual book fair held in August.

SORMAG: Tell us about your current book?

ELLIS:
Wives and Girlfriends is about a professional girlfriend Tera Larou who only dates married men but decides to change the rules to the game when she falls in love with Dominic Jones, her latest suitor. When he refuses to leave his wife, Tera’s actions spiral out of control and she winds up murdered leaving behind a trail of suspects, including Dominic, his wife Donna and a host of others she crossed.

SORMAG: What would you like your readers to take away from your book?

ELLIS:
Wives and Girlfriends just isn’t a story about a love triangle or a scorned girlfriend’s revenge, it’s rooted in how greed, lust and envy can corrupt otherwise decent human beings. That is what I would like readers to take from this story.

SORMAG: Tell us about your publishing experience?

ELLIS:
Both my titles are self-published under my publishing company Kindle Eyes Books. I submitted, Snowed to one publisher, with no reply and decided to self publish instead of hunting down an agent and so forth. So far it’s worked out but now I’m ready to seek an agent for representation.

SORMAG: Do you think an agent is necessary?

ELLIS:
Depends on what route in publishing you want to take. Traditional or self published? If you want total control of your work then you self publish and don’t need an agent to do that. You just have to continue to pound the pavement and market, network and sell.

But if you want to be traditionally published, I think finding an agent to represent you is best.

SORMAG: What one thing about writing do you wish other non-writers would understand?

ELLIS:
Not everyone can be an author, and those of us that can take great pride in being able to do so. So instead of slamming authors if their work doesn’t agree with you, just appreciate the artist in them and agree to disagree.

SORMAG: Do you have any promotional tips for writers?

ELLIS:
Book clubs are your friends; try your best to make them happy. Always offer special deals and presents help too!

SORMAG: What is a favorite book from your childhood?

ELLIS:
Black Boy by Richard Wright and Taming of The Shrew by Williams Shakespeare

SORMAG: What was the last book to keep you up at night reading it?

ELLIS:
Secret Dramas by Angela Wallace

SORMAG: What resources do you use on the net?

ELLIS:
Google, book-remarks, writers.net, Constant Contact and Yahoo Small Business

SORMAG: How can readers get in contact with you? (mail, email, website)

ELLIS:
Readers can contact me via email nishawnda@yahoo.com, nishawnda@kindleeyesbooks.com or visit my site at www.kindleeyesbooks.com

EXCERPT: Wives and Girlfriends


Wives and Girlfriends
By Nishawnda Ellis

A night full of passion can lead to a lifetime full of pain.
Dominic Jones is a wealthy prominent businessman who splits his time between his wife and girlfriends. When he meets Tera Larou, a self employed professional girlfriend, he thinks he’s found the perfect girlfriend. That is until she demands he leave his family for her. Under no circumstance is Dominic willing to leave his family for any woman. Left with no other option, Dominic has to act fast before an already suspicious wife, Donna, is ready to do something about her cheating husband. Tera winds up brutally murdered leaving behind a trail of possible suspects, with Dominic at the top of the list.


Chapter 1
Sunday afternoon was breezy and sunny with a temperature of 72 degrees. The summer heat had disappeared, and the first day of fall was in two days. Police sirens, an ambulance and a coroner van parked outside Brookline side Condominiums interrupted the quiet morning. Nosy and concerned neighbors flocked outside their condos to find out what brought the Brookline police to their homes. They soon would discover that it was the last murder of summer and the first for the fall. And one now narrowed their complex of sixty-nine occupants.
“Check the caller ID and last calls the victim made from here. I want to know who she last spoke to,” Detective Mark Anderton said. This was his first big murder case since he was promoted to lead detective.
After examining the crime scene, Mark’s investigative mind began to go to work. He recorded his comments using a taping device. “African-American Woman, age range 21-28, about 5-feet 7-inches, 135 pounds, found with a gunshot wound to her frontal lobe. Bullet appears to be from a 38 caliber or similar. No signs of forced entry or burglary. However, there are signs of a struggle. Shattered particles of glass cover the living room floor and the coffee table has been knocked over.
Victim appears to have fought the assailant off. Rule out suicide. Does not appear victim shot herself, due to extent of the injury. Also to note, victim struck with some type of blunt object to the back of the head. Probable cause of death was a gunshot wound however.
Victim was wearing a pink negligee. Candles appear recently lit and CD player’s power still is on. A bottle of champagne, whipped cream and chocolate-covered strawberries were found in the victim’s refrigerator. This indicates that the victim was expecting company and leads to the conclusion that her guest may or may not have arrived. The victim was found lying supine in her living room, no weapon or weapons discovered. Not sure of the time of death at this time. A neighbor called the police after hearing a gunshot around 2:15 a.m. Making the approximate time of death between 2:00 and 2:10 a.m., according to the condition of the body and the neighbor’s
phone call. Scene indicates victim either knew the assailant or was caught off guard.
Hey Johnson, did you get the last incoming and outgoing calls yet? Also do we have a name and next of kin for the victim yet?”
“We’re working on identifying the listed names for the last outgoing calls. The victim’s name is Tera Larou. No next of kin as of yet. You should come take a look at this. We found the victim’s electronic address book and I must say she is quite the busy girl. I mean, was.” Officer Johnson shouted from the bedroom.
“Johnson, don’t disrespect the dead. Bring me the address book and leave your comments at home.” Detective Anderton had little tolerance for his co-worker’s theatrics.
Officer Johnson entered the living room. “See for yourself. She doesn’t have names listed with the phone numbers. Instead they are listed as suitors.”
“How many suitors are there?”
“Two hundred and fifty four.”
“Two hundred and fifty four! Are you kidding me, no names?”
“Nope. Just suitors one through two hundred and fifty four.”
“How the hell can she keep the names straight? Maybe Ms. Larou didn’t want anyone to know who she was seeing.” Such a beautiful woman, too. What were you into? Two hundred and fifty four? I don’t think I have been with fifty-four women, let alone two hundred and fifty four.
“Alright Johnson, get me the names from the phone numbers of all two hundred and fifty four, especially the last five. And find out if she owns this condo, where she works, if she pays her own bills, the name her car is in, etc. I want to know everything about this woman. Do we have the names for those calls yet?” Detective Anderton was growing inpatient.
“I’ll check with Riley.” Johnson disappeared back into Tera’s bedroom.
Detective Anderton was left alone with his thoughts. What could she have done to these men to make someone want her dead?
Officer Johnson returned with Mark’s requested information. “The last incoming call was from a woman
named Shaniece Turner and the last outgoing call was made to Dominic Jones.
“Check the last outgoing call number to see if it matches any of the numbers in her address book.”
“Already ahead of you, it doesn’t. But, the last suitor’s number is a cell phone number, 617-555-8211. And guess what?”
“Johnson.”
“Lighten up. I just had Riley check it and the number belongs to Jones Consultants.”
Detective Anderton looked confused.
“You don’t know who Dominic Jones is do you?”
“Should I?”
“You should. He’s one of the wealthiest Black men in this city. Dominic Jones, of Jones Consultants.”
Detective Anderton ignored his blatant insinuation. “I don’t care if he is the wealthiest man in the world; he’s a suspect; as well as all those other two hundred and fifty three suitors in Ms. Larou’s book. Get me an address for Mr. Jones, I have a few questions for him.”
“I think you better check with the chief first.”
“Why?
“Because not only is Mr. Jones wealthy, he sponsors Mayor Menning’s campaigns. The guy is loaded, and from what I understand, protected. You get what I’m saying? Almost untouchable.”
“I guess I am about to reach out and touch Mr. Untouchable. I have a murder case to solve, nothing or no one is more important than that.”
“I hear you. But be careful and extra clean on this one. The man is not to be messed with.”
Detective Anderton smirked. “Apparently, he’s got you under his wing. Save it Johnson, get me the address.”
“Fine. You’re the lead detective. You know what you’re doing.”
“That I am Johnson, and that I do.”

Six months earlier…
Chapter 3
Tera began to get ready for the United Negro College Fund benefit dinner. She picked out a black satin halter dress that was cut low and deep in the front, catering to her size 36-D twins. The length of the dress stopped right above the knees. Any higher, Tera’s cleavage wouldn’t be the only part of her body that was on display. A matching set of “Beyonce Knowles-style,” silver dangling earrings and silver necklace that hung between Tera’s taped up breast, made her outfit complete. She was pushed up and ready to push out on the town in search of her next suitor. Tera held no stops and never made any apologies for the manner in which she carried herself. In her eyes, this was her world and everyone in it, she controlled.
“Shaniece, hand me those silver rhinestone sandals,“ Tera demanded.
“I thought you said I could wear them tonight,“ Shaniece whined. She always did that when she knew Tera was going to have her way.
“I changed my mind. My outfit is calling for them. Just like any man I come close to.” Tera laughed as she stared herself down in the mirror. “Damn, if beauty was a crime, I’d be serving a life sentence.” She flashed her mirror reflection a devilish grin.
Shaniece continued to whine. “What am I suppose to wear with my shimmy dress then?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Find something, cause I am wearing those shoes.”
“I thought you said tonight was about me.”
“It is, but in order for me to show you the ropes, I have to dress the part. Tonight is watch and learn. Then you can show and tell, sweetie. Take it from me; an outfit is not complete unless you have all the right equipment.” Tera took another glance in the mirror. “And honey, this body and this face has to have an outfit that compliments it. Pure elegance matched with sexiness. So those shoes, the dress, and this body are a total package. Understand?”
Shaniece shook her head. She hated it when Tera was right and hated it even more when Tera turned everything around. “Well, I am just not going to go then.”
“Fine, but you will never learn how to have James eating out of the palm of your hand. You see the way I make men drool over me, if you want that you have to watch and learn. First you bait him, then you play him, and then you act like you worship him. Just when he thinks he has you, you flip the switch on him again, so he doesn’t even know what day of the week it is. All he knows is you and when is the next time he gets to be with you.”
“Then you get married and live happily ever after, right?”
Tera looked at Shaniece, as if she were a dodo bird. “NO! Have you been paying attention to anything, I have said? Listen to me Shaniece, and listen good, if you want all you can get out of a man, know that marriage ain’t it. Trust me, it pays not to be the one, waiting at home with the kids, wondering where in the hell your husband is at this time of night.”
“Then, what am I doing this for? I want James to marry me and leave his wife.”
“Why, so he can turn around and do the same thing to you?”
“It wouldn’t happen that way, Tera. It just wouldn’t.”
“Oh, would you get your head out of the clouds Shaniece! Answer me this, did James tell you he was married when you met him?”
“No.”
“When you found out, did he say, he was leaving her for you?”
“Not in so many words, but I could feel he wanted to.”
“What you were feeling was his hard on, which was about to need ice. Once James knew you knew he was married, he knew it was back to porno and hand lotion because his selfish, stingy wife still thinks she can control a man with sex. Whatever you felt or whatever he told you was to keep him from going back to that, bottom line.”
“No, he was implying that what we had worked for him and that some day we would be together, exclusively.”
“What he was implying is that you two could continue having an affair as long as you were down with it.”
“I was at first, but I started to get jealous and hated the fact that she got all his time and attention.”
“Shaniece, who needs time and attention when you get designer clothes and expensive cars from him? She is his priority. She is his wife, and you are his girlfriend. Learn the rules.”
“But, I don’t want to be his girlfriend, I want to be James’s wife.”
“Again, why? Trust me, you are better off being the girlfriend; the benefits are endless. Stick with me and I will show you a world where the girlfriend is what little girls should be dreaming about. Not white picket fences, a dog and two kids. They should be dreaming about penthouses, exotic getaways, expensive jewelry and a maid to clean up after your mess. Instead of you cleaning up after a husband, children and a dog. Being a girlfriend has its advantages. It’s the only way to be satisfied with men completely because you are satisfied with yourself and the situation.”
“But I love James, I don’t want material things, I want him all to myself.”
“Why? He doesn’t want you all to himself. Shaniece you must learn to share. Who cares as long as your piece is the most expensive? I could give two cents about love.”
“I do Tera, that is why I can’t do this.”
“Well, keep singing your sad love songs if you want. I know where that leads: to the road of broke, pregnant and abandoned. Trust me, that isn’t a road any woman should have to travel.”
“Well if that is where it leads me, then fine. I can’t be like you.”
“Of course not, because if you could, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Obviously, love hasn’t taken you to the place it has taken me. Best believe, one day it will. And when it does, I will be more than happy to show you why its pays to be a girlfriend rather than a wife. Face it, some women are meant to be girlfriends and some are meant to be wives.”
Tera left Shaniece with that thought and headed for the benefit dinner. Tera stayed here and there with family until she finally found a home with her maternal grandmother and her cousin Shaniece. Although both were about the same age, Tera’s grandmother treated Tera like the black sheep of the family because her mother had her at fifteen and thus ruined her life. Since the day Tera was born, her grandmother resented her. Her daughter ran off and married Tera’s father, who was ten years older than she, so Tera’s grandmother has always looked at Tera as her daughter’s biggest mistake. Both Tera’s parents got hooked on drugs and one day left Tera in their car at the mall and were never heard from again. Tera moved from foster home to family members’ home, until her grandmother finally decided to take her in. Tera couldn’t stand her grandmother and hated her for always blaming what happened to her mother on her. When Tera turned eighteen, she moved out of her grandmother’s home and had been on her own ever since. She could never figure out why her parents left her. Every night she would cry herself to sleep wishing her father could have loved her like he promised and her mother could have been there for her like she had promised. She blamed it all on them getting married so young and vowed never to get married or let a man ruin her life, the way Tera’s grandmother claimed her father had done.
Deep down Tera knew where Shaniece was coming from. But her own experiences with men, made her choose and believe in her way of life. It was like a religion or craft she had adapted. Why belong to the first wives club when being a girlfriend had much more to offer with no emotional baggage? Tera was happy with herself and her religion, which taught her to never get emotionally attached to her suitors. Once they start to get attached, get everything and find a new suitor. Her religion paid her bills, bought her cars, jewelry, vacations and anything she wanted. Her religion bought her this condo in Brookline and set aside a nice sizable bank account that allowed her to go shopping, get manicures, pedicures and her hair done every week. Tera would be damned if she ever went back to thinking like Shaniece. Being a girlfriend was too much fun and kept her from working a 9-to-5 crappy job.
Tera checked her cell phone voicemail before she left for the dinner. The automatic voice began:
Please enter your password.
You have two new messages.
To hear your messages press one.
First message Saturday 6:30 p.m.:
Tera, it’s Jacob. After giving it much thought, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do what we discussed. Call me later.
Next message Saturday 8 p.m.:
Tera, it’s Jacob again, I really need to see you so we can talk call me after 11 p.m., I will be available then or you can just leave me a message. Talk to you soon.
You have no more messages.
Tera ended her call with a huge grin. One of the reasons for attending this benefit dinner was to show Shaniece how she operated. The second reason was to find a new suitor and get rid of Jacob after he gave her one hundred thousand dollars. Jacob was becoming a liability.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

HOT BOOKS - A new online book club

Readers & Writers

Are you a fan of books that take your heat up a notch or two?
Do you enjoy reading about characters experiencing urban life?


SORMAG is starting a new book club just for readers like you.

Erotica and urban fiction are becoming two popular genres. We would like to introduce you to these books and their writers.

Each week we will feature three excerpts from these HOT BOOKS.

We invite you to become a member of this new club.

Send a blank email to:HOTBOOKS1- subscribe@yahoogroups.com or visit our site to join at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hotbooks1

Please note this will be an adult group due to the nature of these genres.

If you’re an author who writes in these genres and would like to be featured in the book club, send an email to – sormag@yahoo.com for more information.

For the month of June we’re hosting a refer a friend contest. The member with the most referrals will win a $25.00 gift certificate. (your choice)

SORMAG’S Online Book Club – June Schedule

SORMAG’S Online Book Club – June Schedule

June 1 Blaze – Barbara Keaton

June 5 Secret Lovers – Maxine Thompson

June 8 My Life Is All I Have -V. Anthony Rivers

June 12 Truth Be Told: Tales of Life, Love, and Drama by Black Men – Michael T. Owens

June 15 Tempered Hearts - Pamela S Thibodeaux

June 19 Hope and Desire - Theresa Grant

June 22 Zora's Cry - Tia McCollors

June 26 Misty Blue – Dyanne Davis

June 28 Trippin' - Michelle Buckley

If you would like your book featured in our book club, we still have slots available. All genres are welcome. Send information about you and book to – sormag@yahoo.com

Missed our line up? Feature your book in our online store - For the low price of 15.00 your book will be featured for JUN/JUL check it out - http://www.sormag.com/store.html

Monday, May 22, 2006

FEATURED AUTHOR: Joy King


SORMAG: Please give the readers a brief bio on you the person and the writer.

Joy King:
I was born in Toledo, Ohio and raised in California, Maryland, and North Carolina. I attended NCCU and Pace University where I majored in journalism. In the late 90’s I emerged in the entertainment industry working at the Terrie Williams Agency and then heading up the Hip Hop Artist Relations for Click Radio. I now write full time and live in New Jersey with my son.

SORMAG: Tell us about your current book?

KING:
Dirty Little Secrets is centered on the character Tyler Blake. As a young child she watches her mother leave her father for a rich man who she later finds out is abusive. This triggers a recipe for disaster with Tyler because she grows up insecure, yearning to be loved unconditionally by a man but ends up being attracted to men like her step father, who are rich, powerful and abusive. Tyler also has dreams of being a star which leads her to New York City. But in her pursuit of stardom she’s constantly sidetracked because her desperate need to be loved supercedes any sort of rational judgment on her part. Tyler is a flawed, complex character, whose behavior and actions aren’t sugar coated. The raw truth is exposed whether you agree with it or not.

SORMAG: What would you like your readers to take away from your book?

KING:
Of course I want readers to be entertained, but to also understand the importance of self love. The character Tyler Blake takes her life literally to the edge on more than one occasion because she doesn’t truly value herself. She places her value on the love from men she doesn’t feel worthy of.

SORMAG: Tell us about your publishing experience?

KING:
I was thrilled when I got my publishing deal with St. Martin’s Press. I felt that I would finally have the opportunity to have my voice heard with a major publishing house backing me. But being a new author and not having an agent I didn’t get a huge advance so I decided to write a street lit novel under a pen name to make some extra money and to also have my writing reach an entirely different audience that only read that genre of books, while awaiting the release of Dirty Little Secrets. Needless to say the whole situation turned into a nightmare and what should’ve been a very joyous time in my life soon became pure drama. I learned a lot from that, and I advise everyone that even if you don’t have an agent get a very competent attorney to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.

SORMAG: Do you think an agent is necessary?

KING:
When I got my first two publishing deals I didn’t have an agent. But now I do, and I recommend that people eventually obtain one. An agent can think of perks for your contract that as an author you wouldn’t imagine asking for. They also have no problem with saying, “Show Me the Money,” where as an author you might feel uncomfortable doing so. But if you don’t want an agent get a savvy literary lawyer.

SORMAG: What one thing about writing do you wish other non-writers would understand?

KING:
That writing a novel is a creative experience and sometimes you want to take characters to dark places that some people wouldn’t actually consider normal but for a writer that’s part of the fun. But a lot of times as a writer if you step out of the box you get bashed by your readers. So please try not to be so hard on us!!(smile)

SORMAG: Do you have any promotional tips for writers?

KING:
DO YOU!! The majority of big publishing houses only care about selling books and crunching the numbers, not the author. You must take every opportunity to reach out to book clubs, vendors, and readers so they can get to know you as an author and your work. No one is going to work harder for you than you.

SORMAG: What is a favorite book from your childhood?

KING:
I was a huge fan of the Sweet Valley High book series. (ha ha ha)

SORMAG: What was the last book to keep you up at night reading it?

KING:
I used to read books all the time, but ever since I became a writer it’s almost impossible for me to find the time to read. But I am a huge Jackie Collins fan.

SORMAG: What resources do you use on the net?

KING:
I’m a Google queen. If I’m writing a story that takes place in a city that I’ve never been, then I always use Google to get the details on key areas or landmarks that represent that area.

SORMAG: How can readers get in contact with you? (mail, email, website)

KING:
Please visit me@ www.joykingonline.com or email me at jk@joykingonline.com

EXCERPT: Dirty Little Secrets



Dirty Little Secrets
by Joy King


Later that night, I was at it again, partying with the hip and stylish, taking note that I simply had to invest in a New York-chic wardrobe. In Georgia I was in style and used to being the center of attention. Here I stood out like a sore thumb. But it wasn’t the time to dwell on that, because I was simply having too much fun. They were playing "Hate Me Now" by Nas, and T-Roc grabbed me by my waist and escorted me to the dance floor. He was grinding against me from behind with his face against the side of my cheek, and the essence of his cologne had me caught in his rapture. Up until that moment, I wasn’t sure T-Roc was attracted to me.

Although I felt cute, my confidence was a little low. Here I was in a new city at these industry parties surrounded by women who looked like they had just stepped out of InStyle. Everywhere I turned, there was a beautiful woman, but yet T-Roc was dancing with me. I felt special because I was dancing with the man that every other girl wanted. Why wouldn’t they? Not only was T-Roc on top of his game business wise, but he was also a very clean-cut and sharp-looking guy. Nobody possessed his style and his star presence was undeniable.

“How about you come home with me after the party?” T-Roc whispered in my ear before turning me around so we were face-to-face. It took all my strength to resist his offer but I knew what would happen and I wasn’t quite ready yet.

“I want to but I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” His arms were still around me.


“I really have to study. I have an English test coming up, and if I don’t pass it, I might fail the class.” T-Roc gave me a bizarre look, like "Bitch, you can’t be serious," but I was. No, I wasn’t going to fail the class over this test, but I had to say something to get out of going home with him.


“I tell you what, pretty girl; you take your test, and I’ll catch you the next time around.” As T-Roc let go of my waist and left me standing on the dance floor, I felt my prom king had left his queen.


I lay in bed dreaming about how it would be for T-Roc to make love to me. It had been months since I had been intimate with someone, and wouldn’t it be the icing on the cake if my next man was T-Roc?


A couple of days passed, and I didn’t hear from Jason. I was a tad disappointed, but at the same time I needed to concentrate on school. Once again I wasn’t focusing. More and more I was thinking that school wasn’t for me. But until I found something more productive, I figured I needed to stick it out. Tired of calling my parents for money every other week, I decided I needed a job. There was a restaurant right down the street from me looking for a part-time waitress, and I jumped on the opportunity. I put down a bunch of bogus prior waitress experiences, but they obviously didn’t check to see if it was true. To my delight I got the job. Once I was hired, a young woman named Chrissie was assigned to train me. She was a cute petite white woman who put me in mind of a younger version of Sarah Jessica Parker. To my surprise, Chrissie also attended NYU. We instantly clicked, and I finally had my first girlfriend in New York City.


During one of my rare moments of studying, Jason phoned to say that he was on his way to pick me up. That was fine by me; I was more than happy to close my English book and take an extended break. I hoped my mogul had told Jason that he wanted to see me because the last time I saw T-Roc he seemed a little put off that I declined his invitation to his crib. I’m sure he hadn’t gotten that type of brush-off often.


Jason and I went to the label, where I sat for awhile without T-Roc saying two words to me. He was busy running a label, and I started to wonder what I was doing there. It was amazing to see him at work because he was a very hands-on type of guy and an extreme perfectionist. When something didn’t go exactly the way he wanted, he had no qualms about having a tantrum right in front of everybody. After two hours of no one saying a word to me, Jason emerged, “Are you hungry?”

“A little bit.” Actually I was starving, but that was too much information.


“Cool, we’re going to pick up some food and stop by my friend's house to chill for a while.” Cool was Jason’s favorite word, I thought to myself.

My mind was made up. If I was presented with another invitation by T-Roc, I would not decline. I had a strong inkling that he was the friend Jason was talking about. We stopped at a soul food restaurant called Shark Bar, Jason picked up the food he had ordered, and a short time later we pulled up to a brownstone in the city. I took a quick look around the quaint neighborhood while Jason rang the doorbell. I was bubbling over on the inside when T-Roc answered the door.

He greeted me with a sly smile and said, “Hello, Tyler. How did you do on your English test?” His question threw me off balance, but I quickly regained my composure.


“It went great;” I said shyly, and gave a smile. On the outside, the building looked historic and old-fashioned. On the inside it was all high-tech and ultramodern. Here I was sitting and eating barbecue salmon, yams, and rice with my crush. It was too good to be true. The three of us were laughing, joking, and enjoying the delicious food. After a couple hours Jason said he had to run an errand. That was fine with me, because I could finally have some alone time with T-Roc.


“Tyler, what school do you attend? Not high school, I hope.” I tried to get a read on T-Roc's face because I couldn’t tell if he was serious or playing.

“NYU."

“What’s your major?”

“Journalism.”

“Oh, you look very young; how old are you?”

“Eighteen. I’ll be nineteen later this year,” I said eagerly, not wanting to seem so young.


“Don’t rush it pretty girl. There will come a time when you’ll be wishing you can push your age back, not forward.” As T-Roc was talking, my mind began drifting off, thinking about the hundreds of cute girls he had conquered and the many more who would follow me. But you know what? I didn’t give a shit. I couldn't have cared less. When I wanted something that is what I wanted--no ands, ifs, or buts about it! At this moment in my life, I wanted to know what it felt like to make love to T-Roc. I didn’t care if it turned out to be a one night stand, because personally I thought that would be more romantic. This guy was a known ladies' man, and I wasn’t naïve enough to believe I could change him or that I would be "the one." Every girl he slept with was probably trying to lock him down, so I figured I’d do one better and treat him as a casual sexual encounter. This was about me fulfilling yet another one of my fantasies, no more and no less.

We began kissing and I started feeling myself getting aroused. “Tyler, how about we go upstairs where we can get comfortable?” T-Roc took my hand and led me upstairs to his bedroom where a huge plush bed awaited us.

Leaning back on his bed, he said, “I want to watch you undress.” My mind began racing, and the shy, insecure, and self-conscious side of me took a seat as the other side--the bitchy, fiery and confident side--showed its face. I gave him a look that said, Oh please, I’m not taking off my clothes for you. All these episodes in my life are like movies to me, and I’ve created scripts that have to be exciting and fun. I knew sleeping with him was going to happen, but I couldn’t let him think that he would just snap his fingers and my clothes would fall off. I had to make him believe that he had somewhat coerced me.


“No, baby, I don’t think so. This isn’t Scores, and I’m no stripper.”


“Pretty girl, I just want to see you naked. Please.” I did have on a soft pink Natori bra and panty set that I wanted him to view. If I wasn’t comfortable with anything else, I pretty much always liked my figure and enjoyed showing it off in cute undergarments. I didn’t want to seem too eager to please, though, and this was my script, so I needed to start setting the pace. In my mind I was telling T-Roc to back it up, buddy, I’m running this show. I sauntered over to the bed and began kissing him again.

Visit www.joykingonline.com

Monday, May 15, 2006

Author Intro: Theresa Grant

Theresa Grant: Theresa, a retired dental hygienist, has written contemporary romance for ten years, and has published: "A Faithful Choice, and "All My Bright Tomorrows."
She has lived in Rockville, Maryland, for thirty-five years, is married to Dr. Warren H. Grant, and has a daughter and two sons.

Hope & Desire

Jennifer Greene wants to be a fashion designer. She works two jobs and saves her money. Her sister steals the money and goes to New York. To earn additional money, Jennifer works for man who later tricks her into marriage. She escapes, falls in love, and is tried for murder.

Visit Theresa at: http://www.terrigrant.makeswebsites.com

Thursday, May 11, 2006

COMING SOON - JUNE


"Sex on the Side"
By Jessie Jamie Coleman

Autumn Girl Press
ISBN: 0976696436

http://www.jessiejamiecoleman.com

Monday, May 08, 2006

FEATURED AUTHOR: Alethea M. Pascascio


SORMAG: Tell us about the person and the writer?

Alethea M. Pascascio:
I was born and raised in Gary, IN and currently reside in Illinois, but I can’t stand cold weather. So, I spend most of my winters indoors. Of course that would change if I lived in one of my ideal locations like Figi, Hawaii, or even Texas or Florida.

I recently tired of corporate America and gave up my career in Engineering to become a fulltime mother, wife, and writer. My husband of eight years and I have two daughters.

A self-proclaimed master of relaxation, I find my best times to write are early in the morning after prayer and meditation or late at night when my daughters and husband are asleep. The sight and sounds of rain and thunderstorms also enrich the creative process for me. I find that this process calms me enough to create a heartbeat for each character.

When not writing, I love to indulge my passion for traveling, attending church, watching movies, reading fiction and non-fiction, chatting with friends, shooting pool, watching NFL and NBA games, and shopping.

I am a woman who is very passionate about helping people go beyond the boundaries they’ve set for themselves. And I also have a fire inside of me to help women who settle for less than they deserve. I’ve been there and know the feeling of dread that often comes with merely existing and not living. Of course, there are so many things that can cause this to happen to woman and the life of my main character (Faith Donnovan) in my debut novel, Bag Lady, is a good example. And what ends up being her catalyst for doing better is knowing better.

SORMAG: Tell us about your current book?

PASCASCIO:
In my debut novel Bag Lady, Faith Donnovann has a life that includes childhood drama and dysfunction. And at the age of 18, she leaves home with more than clothes in her baggage- some times, the invisible is far worse than the visible. As the novel progresses we go on a very dramatic life-changing journey with Faith, who enters a series of tumultuous relationships including one that almost kills her. Eventually, Faith and her life change for the better when she yearns for true love and lets go of the past through forgiveness. Her life then takes an unfamiliar turn down a path that leads to the type of man she once thought was a fairy tale- a good one. Meet Justin Herrera, a dashing Central American/Belizean- Faith’s knight in shining armor.

SORMAG: What would you like your readers to take away from your book?

PASCASCIO:
There are so many messages in this book, but what is most essential is, forgiveness is essential. Unforgiveness is like a cancer. It eats away at you and can manifest itself in ways you’d never expect. It can rob people of health, happiness, and harmony. Another message is that another man is never the answer to our problems. This is how we as women get caught up in one bad relationship after the next. The issues within us that need fixing only attract men with their own set of issues. Ultimately, I want readers to realize that self-healing brings not only strength but the ability to make those good choices and attract good men.

SORMAG: Tell us about your publishing experience?

PASCASCIO:
My publishing experience has been very interesting. From the onset, I wanted to self-publish then someone talked me into submitting my manuscript to traditional publishers. I submitted to a few places and received one rejection letter. I then received another letter from the Acquisitions Editor at Genesis Press. She asked that I have my manuscript line edited then resubmit it to her. I waited awhile before doing it because in my heart I really wanted to self-publish. After a couple of months, I finally decided to continue and see where this traditional publishing avenue would lead me. So, I had the manuscript edited and acquired an agent at the same time. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the agent had entirely too much on her agenda to represent me effectively, so, after four months or so, I dissolved our relationship. As far as Genesis Press is concerned, it seems as if my manuscript got lost in a black whole. I never heard back from them, but later on I was told that there was a shift in personnel, so, there could be a plethora of reasons for the break in communication. Anyway, I took it as a sign for me to follow my heart. This resulted in the birth of my own imprint, Queen Publications.

SORMAG: Do you think an agent is necessary?

PASCASCIO:
Many authors have gotten contracts without an agent, however, agents are often instrumental in helping authors land contracts with the large publishing houses. So, do I think an agent is necessary… most often they are, if you’re trying to land a major publishing contract with one of the big-name publishers.

SORMAG: What one thing about writing do you wish other non-writers would understand?

PASCASCIO:
Wow, what an engaging question. I wish non-writers would know and understand the painstaking process of producing quality literature. Writing, editing, rewriting, deleting and even starting again and again- the entire process can take months. It’s not easy, so, the net time you read a book, understand that it was a labor of love. Even if you don’t like the book, at least give the author credit for trying.

SORMAG: Do you have any promotional tips for writers?

PASCASCIO:
Network, network, network. Also, various reader and writer yahoo groups are great places to promote your work. And it is essential for you to be open to helping others promote their work… remember, what you make happen for others- others will make happen for you.

SORMAG: What is a favorite book from your childhood?

PASCASCIO:
When I was very young, for some reason, I loved Curious George. Then by the time I was a teenager, I was hooked on The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman. That book is a classic and its subject matter transcends age groups.

SORMAG: What was the last book to keep you up at night reading it?

PASCASCIO:
Of course, fiction is my first love, but there are also some great non-fiction books out there. The last book that kept me up at night reading was a non-fiction by the title of The Fourth Dimension by Dr. David Yonggi Cho.

SORMAG: What resources do you use on the net?

PASCASCIO:
I use various resources that provide news and insight into what is going in the reader and writer communities. Some of these sites are blacknews.com, msnbc.com, yahoo.com, sormag.com, aalbc.com, ebonyreaders.com and various book club websites.

SORMAG: How can readers get in contact with you?

PASCASCIO:
Mail: Queen Publications, P.O. Box 496 Antioch, IL 60002
Email: Alethea@queenpublications.com
Website: http://www.queenpublications.com/

Chapter Excerpt: Bag Lady


Bag Lady
By Alethea Pascascio

Chapter One

“Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” Pastor Bennett intoned with authority as he sprinkled my grandmother’s mahogany casket with small clods of earth. He began to recite the Twenty-Third Psalm. “The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want…”

I listened attentively, trying to engrave the words on my heart. Each word hitched a ride on the warm spring breeze sweeping past my ears stopping briefly to kiss them. Then drifted on to only God knows where.

The melody of a sad song drew my attention to the oak tree towering above the pastor. There were three Blue Jays perched on the branches singing an octave lower than usual. It was as if they missed her too.

The mourners flanking my grandmother’s gravesite wore dark-colored garments. Most had somber, tear-stained faces that reflected how much they were going to miss the woman they had come to know affectionately as Mother Hill, a faithful and enormously popular member of the Greater Pleasant Missionary Baptist Church.

G-Ma (as her grandchildren so lovingly called her) often said that nothing pleased her more than doing the good Lord’s work. If today’s expensive displays of roses and trumpet lilies, and the throng of people mourning her death were any indication, her work would be long remembered.

Beside me, my mother rocked back and forth in devastated silence. If it’s true that a female doesn’t become a real woman until her mother dies, then Mama grew up six days ago.

After observing a few moments of silence, Pastor Bennett gave the benediction, concluding the services for G-ma. The crowd began to disperse, murmuring softly. Some of the people headed for their cars, while others walked up to the open grave to pay their last respects.

Flowers were strewn next to the mahogany casket, and some of the mourners selected a rose to take with them. As they made their way past Mama, most took a moment to touch her shoulder, offering condolences and words of gentle encouragement.

When most of the crowd had gone Mama reached for her husband, Mitchell’s hand, signaling her readiness to leave. He put his arm around her shoulders then tossed his car keys to my sister, Nicole.

Clutching the keys tightly, Nicole dashed toward the car as if she’d been given the opportunity to outrun the reality of G-ma’s death. She’s alone, I thought, with a flash of insight.

Before following behind Nicole, Mitchell turned to me and whispered, “Faith, we’ll meet y’all at the house.”

Leaning over, I hugged my mother around her neck then watched as they strolled carefully across the freshly cut grass. Mama looked like a fragile child, barely able to walk. Mitchell had to support her all the way to the car.
Watching them drive away, I wished that they had taken the limo included in the funeral package, but Mama refused to ride in it. She said limos were nothing but hollowed out hearses and she didn’t want to be inside of a hearse until she was too dead to know anything about it. But Mama, not wanting her money to go to waste, offered it to me and my husband, Justin and we kindly accepted it.

I sighed loudly, hoping to exhale the grief bottled up inside of me. Justin was running his warm hand up and down my back, his presence reassuring. He had become my soft place to fall during hard times, and this present moment was more proof of that than ever. Without Justin I could have been alone too now, with only bitter memories of my past and the loss of the one woman who represented the best part of me.

Justin was all that G-ma ever wanted for me, probably because she knew I’d finally be happy. It had taken me most of my life and a lot of pain to find him, but now, I would never be alone again. Even in death, I will carry a part of his spirit with me because his is connected to mine. And that is something that will last forever.

Clear as day, I recalled the first time G-ma had met Justin. I’d been dating him for several months when she came to visit me. After talking to him for about five minutes, she excused herself from the conversation and went into the kitchen. Seconds later, she called me to join her.

As soon as I entered the kitchen, G-ma grabbed me around the waist, smiled and whispered, “Finally.”

“Finally what, G-ma?” I asked, bewildered.
G-ma’s mocha-colored face broadened with delight. “Finally, you’ve found yourself a keeper.”
“For Heaven’s sake, G-ma, you only met him five minutes ago!” I said, blushing against my will.

Resting her hands on her ample hips, G-ma shook her head slowly back and forth as if I were missing her point. “That’s all it takes, baby. I knew that your grandfather was for me from the moment I laid eyes on him. And we were together until he took his last breath. I hate he died before you and Nicole were born.”

Then a devilish grin popped on her lips. Her eyes shifted to the white wall behind me for a moment of reflection. “Girl, how I loved that man! And how he loved me back. I can live the rest of my life off of all the love he gave me.”

It would take a minute for G-ma to see the amazement in my eyes. I was learning the hidden, suppressed side of a person I had known for my entire life.
“And the way he used to-" she added, almost forgetting I was her granddaughter.

G-ma glanced in my direction, giggled, and cleared her throat. “Well, that’s enough about me. Now, you didn’t listen to what I said about the other jokers you got involved with, but I hope you’re ready to listen to me about Justin. He’s the one, sweetie. God gives us more than we deserve.” She pulled me into her arms wrapping me in a loving hug.

G-ma had been right about the losers in my life. More importantly, she had let me learn what I needed to learn by myself; offering support and encouragement without even telling me how to live my life or condemning me for my mistakes. And, boy, oh boy, had I made mistakes.

A clap of thunder in the distance jerked my thoughts back to the present. Hot salty tears burned slow paths down my cheeks as I looked at G-ma’s final resting place.
Justin lovingly wiped my tears with his hands.

I looked up into the most sincere pair of sparkling brown eyes I’d ever seen. “She deserved so much more than this. I wanted her to get to know you better. I wanted her to know that everything turned out right,” I whimpered to him.

Justin pulled me into the circle of his strong arms. “She knew it would,” he replied, kissing my forehead. “And she’s in Heaven with Jesus. That is her reward.”

I stepped back and pulled out a piece of Kleenex from my purse to wipe my tears. As I held the thin white tissue under my nose something came over me. “Can you give me a few minutes? There are some things I can’t leave without saying.” I sniveled.
“Sure, baby. I’ll wait for you in the limo.”

When Justin was almost to the car I moved closer to the grave. I felt more vulnerable and scared without him holding me. A mass of emotions sent tremors through my body. I couldn’t believe my grandmother’s entire life had been reduced to a cold slab of marble etched only with her name and the dates of her birth and death.

Clearing my throat and thoughts, I stood at the edge of the gravesite. I had to share my feelings with G-ma for the last time.

I opened my mouth the first time and nothing came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. There was so much I needed to say and I believed if I didn’t say it to her right then, I would never get the chance again.

“G-ma, it’s me, Faith. I know you can hear me,” I said out loud, my voice still trembling. “I’m sure you’re in a better place, but I miss you so much. I wish you were back here with us.” I stopped suddenly as the tears began to overtake me.

It was difficult, but I continued, wanting G-ma to know I understood why she had to leave us.
“I believe that God knows best, and you belong in Heaven now. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me…” I paused. “And Nicole.”

I looked down at the smooth finish on the top of the mahogany casket and I smiled slightly. “You were certainly right about Justin! G-ma, I’ll always love you.”
As I turned to walk away, I thought about all the things G-ma had taught me. I had always believed I inherited my best characteristics from her. She’d given me a strength I didn’t know I possessed until I met Justin.

Now she was going to be buried deep—deep down, like some of the issues I had tried to bury in the recesses of my mind. Issues that had once threatened to destroy me. ‘Let the past be past,’ people always told me, not seeming to realize that the past is always a part of the present; the trick is learning from it.

I was trembling when I stepped into the limousine to go to Mama’s house. Resting my head on Justin’s shoulder with a sigh, I inhaled his signature Burberry scent. It triggered a memory, and for the first time that day I really smiled and let my mind wander back to the day of my marriage to Justin.

Two hours into our wedding reception, Justin grabbed my hand gently and pulled me from the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

“Already? What about our guests?” I asked, feigning concern but knowing that I was more than anxious to get to our hotel room.

“They'll understand, but just in case they don’t, let’s sneak out. I have a surprise for you.”

When the elevator door closed, Justin pressed the button that would take us to the second floor. Before I could protest, he softly covered my mouth with his hand and explained. “I know our room is on the third floor but, like I said, I have a surprise.”

After a few seconds, the doors slid open and we stepped off the elevator. Before I knew it, Justin had scooped me up into his arms. I giggled, throwing my arms around his broad shoulders. “What are you doing?”

Justin just smiled and walked down the hall without responding to my question. Then he stopped in front of Room 256. He grinned as he tried to insert the gold key into the lock without dropping me. “Close your eyes,” he said finally.

I closed my eyes, burying my face against his Burberry-spritzed neck. The masculine scent always aroused me.

Justin unlocked the door and carried me over the threshold.
My eyelids fluttered open once he laid me on the bed, and I gasped as I looked around at the elegantly simple beauty of the suite.
The white walls and sheer drapes framed an open balcony door, ushering in the beauty of the moonlight. I could hear the whoosh of the surf caressing the sandy shore below. Towering vases of red roses strategically arranged throughout the room covered the ceramic tile floors. It reminded me of a winter wonderland accented with promises of spring.

As I sat up on the bed to take in more of the view, I watched Justin placing a CD into the stereo. “This room is wonderful. When did you arrange this?” I asked, admiring the décor.

“I slipped away before the ceremony and asked for an upgrade," he said, scanning the room with a pleased look. "Yeah, I like it, too.” He pointed to the white-washed nightstand beside the bed. “Look. They even left a bottle of champagne.”

Lying back on the white satin-dressed bed, I traced circles on the covers with the palm of my hand. “I don’t want anything else tonight, but you. Come over here, Mr. Herrera.” I patted the empty space beside me.

Justin winked at me, reaching on top of the stereo and then quickly put his hands behind his back.

Pulling myself back up on my elbows, I studied him. “What’s in your hands?” I asked as he strolled to the side of the bed.

Justin stepped out of his shoes, being careful not to reveal his secret possession. “Just trust me, Mrs. Herrera,” he whispered, going down on his knees and coming up empty-handed.

When “The Very Best of Bob Marley & The Wailers” escaped from the speakers, Justin seductively snaked his pelvis, making me giggle. Then he danced over to the foot of the bed and removed my satin sling-back shoes.

Reclining on the bed, I wiggled my dress up to pull off my white fishnet stockings. Before I could free myself from the constraints of the stockings, Justin sat down beside me and took my hands in his. Without resistance, I allowed my arms to fall onto the gleaming white comforter, surrendering control to my new husband. Justin maneuvered his hand under the top of my pantyhose then traveled down between my thighs. I threw my head back, almost breathless. “Stop that,” I purred weakly.

“Stop what?" Justin gave me a wicked smile. "This?” He glided his forefinger half way into my moist femininity. His finger robbed me of some of my wetness, which he used to circle my throbbing bead tantalizingly. “Or that?”

My head began to move from side to side. I could barely speak. “Yes. Yes. This and that,” I managed with a moan, spreading my legs wider to give him better access to the very core of my being.
Suddenly, Justin leaned forward, covering my mouth with his. Our tongues made love to each other while his hand slipped from my hidden place to guide my thong and stockings down my legs, letting them fall to the floor.

Justin eased his lips away from mine. Then pulled at the hem of my cream strapless Vera Wang dress with no effort.

I lifted my hips a little to assist him then rested on the satin covers in front of him, totally nude. At first I felt a little embarrassed and tried to fold the bedding over me.
Justin brushed the cover away. “Don’t,” he said huskily. “I want to look at my wife.”
He pulled his cream Armani shirt over his head, and then leaned over me and caressed the delicate points of my breasts with the tip of his tongue.

“You’re teasing me,” I cooed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” Justin said, and got to his feet. In one fluid movement, he pushed his white linen pants and cotton briefs down his muscular legs, allowing his member to spring free.
I reached out and gently stroked his massive manhood.

Justin placed his hand on top of mine, guiding my strokes to the beat of the music. His breathing became warm and shallow.

“Ooh, baby,” he groaned heavily, squeezing my hand around his pulsating shaft. “Not yet.” He reached under the bed and retrieved two pairs of wireless Bose headphones.
After pushing a few buttons, he put a pair on me and then on himself. The music that had once filled the room was now coming through the headphones.

Justin covered me with his smooth golden brown body and used his tongue to stroke and tease my mouth. With supple agility, he slid down my body as if I were an Aspen ski slope—fresh, smooth, and ready, stopping at the damp folds of my sex. He flicked his tongue eagerly, caressing the sensitive area of my core, and I moaned with excitement.
I placed my hands on each side of his head, barely able to grip his soft, closely-cropped hair, and threw my legs over his shoulders as his tongue danced with the essence of my femininity to the rhythm of Bob Marley’s lyrics.

Just when I couldn’t take it any more and was ready to detonate, he slid two fingers deep inside of me and rubbed my g-spot.

The intense pleasure was indescribable.

Suddenly, my body began to convulse in a chain of spasms, and I felt as if I had gone to the brink of death and back. I think I saw God.

Before I could come to my senses, Justin entered me. He touched places I never knew existed and our bodies moved rhythmically in unison to the tempo of “Could You Be Loved.”
Our gazes locked, sweeping me further out of reality on a tidal wave of emotion. I knew Justin had connected with my spirit when tears rolled down my cheeks.

Justin’s body finally stiffened and his heated essence shot inside of me. Groaning with pleasure, he collapsed on top of me, removing his headset and then mine with trembling fingers.

“You were great, my love. We have to meet like this more often,” he teased. “I don’t think so,” I said with a giggle. “I know for a fact now that too much of a good thing could kill you…”

Welcome To SORMAG's Blog

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I believe in promoting authors and their books. Let me introduce you and your books to online readers.

I'm also a happily married mother of three who's trying to break into the Christian writing field. The writing road can be rocky.

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Contact me at:lchwriter@gmail.com

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