Book excerpts by Pat Simmons

December 2011 excerpt (FINAL)

2011-12-01T16:23:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER 4

A few days later, Kidd was about to stretch out in Parke’s favorite chair when Parke strolled in. Rubbing the back of his neck and then squeezing it, Kidd recognized the sign of frustration because he had the same habit. In fact, he’d done it minutes earlier.

It had been a grueling week. Kidd was exhausted after hours of morning group interviews, networking luncheons, and evening seminars. His job prospects didn’t seem any better than in Boston. One thing he had to admit, this family really did have connections. Too bad he had burned so many bridges.

“Hey, man. Whatz up?” Parke didn’t wait for his response as he took residence in another recliner. “I’ve come to collect on your offer.”

Kidd froze and frowned. “What did I offer?”

“About Grandma BB.”

His heart sank. Strokes weren’t anything to play with. “Look, man, I’m really sorry she passed away.” Kidd felt like a jerk for giving Parke a hard time on the same day his friend suffered a stroke. Now she was dead.

“Are you kiddin’ me? Grandma BB is very much alive. We made arrangements for her to stay temporarily at Garden Chateau. It’s a skilled nursing and assisted living facility. The director is a friend of mine, and I’m also her financial planner. Hopefully, Grandma BB will be out in no time.

“But the way that woman was swearing at Cheney and me when we had her transferred today, I would say God’s giving her an extended stay in order for her to repent. I was so close—” he used his finger and thumb to demonstrate—“to scooping her up and dumping her in the prayer room until praise and worship filled her mouth.” He exhaled. “She clowned so bad at the nursing facility, we literally had to leave the building before we got put out. Cheney and I were down the hall and we could still hear her carrying on. Slur speech and all. Needless to say, I don’t think our presence is going to aid in her recovery at the moment.

The director of nursing will give us a call when she feels Grandma BB has accepted her diagnosis. The sassy senior has to be willing to become an active participant in her recovery. The nurse cautioned me that could be weeks or a month, depending on Grandma BB’s frame of mind. At this point, she seems agitated at this point because she likes to be in control.”

“She sounds like a character.” Kidd wanted to laugh at his cousin’s embellished description of some old woman.

“To say the least, Mrs. Beatrice Tilley Beacon aka Grandma BB is a spirited personality. She needs almost twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Kidd stated offhandedly as he stood and was about to step foot in the kitchen. Mrs. Beacon was feisty. Too bad he never met her.

“There is. I have a business proposition. You may not think you need us, but we desperately need you right now.”

He had a bad sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like it. Business propositions were usually meant to take advantage of something or somebody. And he was nobody’s fool.

Available on eBook December 2012. Available in stores January 2012. Thanks for reading.

November 2011 Guilty by Association excerpt

2011-10-31T18:13:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2 (unedited)

St. Louis, Missouri

Barely a month later, already there was trouble in Kidd’s promised paradise. He shifted on the sofa of Parke’s magnanimous turn-of-the-century home in an historic neighborhood of Ferguson.

At the moment, he was being chewed out royally by Parke’s wife, Cheney; Malcolm’s wife, Hallison; and another woman whose identity escaped his memory. They were livid because he refused to accept or retain any of the jobs they labeled as great opportunities.

Other than having the fear of God somewhere deep deep down inside of him, he wasn’t afraid of man or beast. But a double dose of beautiful tongue-lashing; long-legged females—with their hands hoisted on their hips, shooting darts his way—somehow made Kidd rethink his fearlessness. Their mug shots resembled his mother when she was about to take him and Ace down, once they began to tower over her as teenagers.

Even a pint-sized, adorable little girl named Kami stood staring at him with her arms folded. With two thick braids and wearing a karate outfit, she was the spitting image of her father. Without saying a word, the group’s expression conveyed, Looks are deceiving. We’ve got just enough ’tude to back up our demands.

“My father-in-law was cordial when he learned you walked away from the factory position. He had been tirelessly pursuing it for you since the day you got off the plane. Although Papa P. held his tongue,” Cheney smarted off. “Parke will be steaming that you did it again—turn down a job that hundreds of people want.”

“Same here,” Hallison added. “Malcolm even tried to set up an office position for you, and you declined it.”

“I don’t have a hubby yet, but if I did, he would have their back,” the third woman chimed in. “I see a beat down coming your way.”

Kidd grunted. “If you’re a fortune teller, then I’m sure you’ll see I’m not the man down,” he said smugly. It irritated him that he couldn’t recall her name. “And you are again?”

“Part of this family.” The woman was a looker: cute, shapely…and white—there no way she could be a blood relative, could she? She triple-popped a wad of bubblegum to indicate the question-and-answer period had just ended.

Really?” Kidd baited her.

“Never mind that, Imani,” Cheney said. “Our husbands are a piece of cake compared to a woman’s wrath.” She snickered. “Put it this way, you might want to start shaking in your boots right about now because we happen to love our men. And we’re not going to let anybody take advantage of them, including another Jamieson.”

“Just in case you don’t want to listen to them, I’ve got my rig outside and I’d be happy to repossess that nice ride of yours. Give me any reason. As a matter of fact, I don’t need one.” Then Imani added proudly, “I haven’t earned the company title of repo woman of the month for nothing.”

He contained a smirk at their bogus terrorization. And they professed to be peaceful, loving Christians. Kidd sneered. He didn’t doubt many people tangled with these Jamiesons, and he was just as much a reckoning force single-handedly.

Acknowledging his month of their hospitality was about to expire, Kidd decided to speak his mind. “Your family sought me out—not the other way around. I was happy in my Hyde Park neighborhood in Boston.”

“Mommy’s talking. Don’t interrupt,” Parke and Cheney’s daughter, Kami, warned Kidd. “Please.” Then she shifted into a martial arts stance then looked for confirmation. “Right, Mommy?”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

Kami beamed when Cheney nodded and gave her a heartwarming smile.

Is there a law against spanking someone else’s child? He wondered. In fact, he was about ready to strangle everybody in the room. If they had owned a bird and dog, Kidd wouldn’t spare them either.

“You ladies must think I’m a kid—”

“That’s what your name implies. What kind of nickname is that anyway?” Imani tempted for a response.

“Don’t let the nickname fool you. Last time I checked, I’m old enough to drink and drive.”

Kidd flexed his muscles. His father —whenever he made an appearance—addressed Kevin as “kid” as if he couldn’t remember his name. When his younger brother came along five years later, Samuel tagged Aaron as “Ace.” That nicknamed claimed the younger Jamieson to be his father’s “Ace in the hole” when he gambled. What Kidd couldn’t understand was why his deadbeat dad was adamant about them having the Jamieson last name. What a joke.

Guilty by Association Chapter 1 part 2

2011-09-26T15:48:00.000-07:00

Nodding, Black Eye stepped back and let Kidd enter. As he wound his way through the lounge, he fist-bumped some, winked at a few ladies, and nodded at the bartender. Then he paused and took a deep breath. Yeah, this was his turf. If the relative imposter tried to put anything over on him, Kidd would personally break all two hundred and six bones in his body.

With the back room in sight, Kidd observed the three occupants. The light-skinned guy was buffed, maybe six—one or –two. Kidd was a wrestler in high school and a boxer on the streets. Either way, he could take him.

As he edged closer, his heart suddenly slammed against his chest. What if…what if this man really was his relative and knows something about his father? Kidd had no idea how to process that information. He took a deep breath. The only Jamiesons he knew in the world was him and his brother. He had never met any at school, at work, anywhere else for that matter.

As if sensing Kidd’s presence, Cameron glanced over his shoulder. He stood. Standing face-to-face, they eyed each other. Kidd squinted, looking for any familiar features—nothing—until Cameron worked up a cocky smile.

The moment of recognition was swift. The cousins weren’t a mirror image, but enough similarities were noted. Some of the same expressions that flashed across Cameron’s face when he grinned matched Kidd’s brother, Ace. Where Cameron was fair-skinned, Kidd had the richest deep brown tan a person couldn’t buy in a bottle or get in tanning booth. Both had thick wavy hair.

“Thanks for coming.”

Shrugging off his jacket, Kidd grabbed a chair, whipped it around, and sat without taking his eyes off Cameron. “Show me what you got.”

No argument. Cameron retook his seat and opened a thick folder. His two friends sat back, looked as if they didn’t want to be there. Cameron appeared to be confident and not intimated in the least. He whipped out a long sheet of paper with a maze of lines and names. The document peaked Kidd’s interest for a minute when the name ‘Samuel’ stuck out amid the sea of Jamieson descendants. “I brought copies for you—”

“I didn’t come to read. You said we’re cousins. Break it down, beginning with Samuel Jamieson.”

Cameron grinned. It was smug like his, and Kidd didn’t like it. “I don’t have to read it because it’s all up here,” he announced, while pointing to his head.

“My tenth great-grandfather, Paki Kokumuo Jaja, was the firstborn son of King Seif and Adaeze, which means princess. A member of the Diomande tribe, he was born in December 1770 in Côte d’Ivoire, on the Gold Coast of Africa. His name means ‘a witness that this one will not die.’

“In the fall of 1790, he and his warriors were attacked and savagely beaten by slave traders, chained, and kidnapped. He was among hundreds of thousands who were hauled to the Gates of No Return castle. As they waited, many captives prayed they would die, including my tenth great-grandfather. They were unmercifully stacked together in the bowels of a ship—not the ironic Good Ship of Jesus under the command of Sir John Hawkins—but Snow Elijah. The biblical reference is uncanny, isn’t it?”

Kidd’s head was spinning with the information. “Listen, my black skin could rival a panther’s, so there’s no doubt I’m from Africa. Why don’t you cross the water and stick to relatives who lived in the twentieth century?”

Cameron lifted a brow. “It’s rude to interrupt. You didn’t want to read the notes, so I’m giving you information verbally. I’ll bring you up to speed in less than five minutes.”

Backbone. Kidd admired that, but that didn’t mean he had to accept him as a blood relative.

“Snow Elijah landed first in the Caribbeans and dropped a payload of human cargo. Then headed off to the coast of Maryland, a state known for harsh slave laws. Automatically, my tenth great-grandfather was separated from his bodyguards. Because of his statute and strength, Paki was sold at the highest bid of $275 to wealthy slave owner, Jethro Turner, in front of Sinner’s Hotel. That purchase gave Turner exactly one hundred and thirteen enslaved people.”

“I’m warning you, Cameron, get to the point, or do I need to draw blood to get a DNA sample?”

“And I told you I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m on a roll.” Cameron snarled. “Paki married Turner’s daughter, Elaine. Besides my great—you know—grandfather, they had four other sons: Aasim, Fabunni, Abelo, and Orma. Orma was your eleventh great-grandfather. His name means free. Although he was born free, he sold himself back into slavery for a woman, Sashe, who was a runaway, but recaptured.” Cameron concluded and leaned back.

Figures, a fool from the beginning. Kidd had had enough. “That tells me nothing about my old man and how you and I are related.”

“Sure it does. It tells you that my tenth great-grandfather and your eleventh great-grandfathers were brothers. Your father and his children are direct descendants of Orma. If you want to know more, I have stipulations.”

“You sought me out. Not the other way around.” Laughing, Kidd stood and grabbed his jacket. “Whatever you want to drink, it’s on the house.”

Cameron also stood. “I can buy my own drink. And for the record, I’d make a better bouncer than that gatekeeper at the door. The Jamieson men are a force to be reckoned with.”

“I wouldn’t say that too loud. Black Eye has a short temper and he’s not empty-handed.”

“I never leave home without mine.”

Kidd looked Cameron up and down. “I’ll be in touch.” He walked out without looking back. Kidd would never admit it to everybody, but he like Cameron, whether he was a Jamieson or not.

Guilty by Association

2011-08-31T14:30:00.001-07:00

Prologue

Boston, Massachusetts

“He called again,” Sandra Nicholson told her son, Kidd Jamieson, as soon as his commanding figure cleared the doorway of their Hyde Parke condo.

Grunting, he shut the door. Kidd’s nostrils flared as he swaggered across the hardwood floor. The persistent caller claimed to be Cameron Jamieson, a distant cousin who had tracked down him and his younger brother, Aaron “Ace” Jamieson through some genealogy nonsense.

Cameron said he was completing his second engineering degree at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. At first, Kidd wondered if it was a prank. After all, in the black community, everybody claimed to be a cousin.

“I told the man we weren’t interested in whatever he was selling,” Kidd spat before brushing a tender kiss on his mother’s cheek as he headed to the kitchen.

“Kevin Jamieson,” she said, following him then planting her hands on her hips. “He isn’t pedaling goods. He represents your father’s side of the family—maybe the good part. At least feel him out.”

Family, huh? More like… Kidd didn’t finish the thought. “Okay, I’ll put an end to this for once and for all. You have his number?”

Kidd didn’t need this added frustration. He was the older of two sons to a never-been-married mother. Kidd found no fault with her, just his absentee father. His priority was no matter what, to take care of mother, which had become a little harder after he was laid off from the Gillette Corporation—a job he labored at for eleven years—and forced to give up his apartment.

His mother tore off a sheet of paper and handed it to Kidd. Studying the number, he punched in the digits and leaned against the granite counter top.

“Hello?” Music was blasting in the background.

Assuming it was Cameron who answered, Kidd didn’t waste his words on preliminaries. “Let’s meet.”

And Cameron didn’t play dumb. That earned him a point of respect. Kidd heard him muffle the phone. “Hey, it’s my cuz. Turn it down,” then he repeated his order, adding, “lower!”

Kidd grunted. Cuz? The man didn’t know him, yet claimed Kidd anyway, which was odd, considering his worthless father had turned his back on him and his younger brother.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Now,” Kidd demanded. Let the man come to his turf.

Cameron didn’t stutter or skip a beat. “You name the place and I’m there.”

Kidd did and disconnected.

“You could have invited him here, honey. He’s very polite when he calls, not rude like you just treated him. Don’t make me ashamed Kidd.”

Shaking his head, Kidd washed his hands in the sink, then grabbed a plate out the cabinet. “He may have our number, but he doesn’t need to know where we live.” Without a care in the world, Kidd began lifting lids and peering into pots. “Mmm, sweet potatoes and collard greens. Thanks, Ma.”

Sandra sat at the table, folded her hands, then cleared her throat. “How long do you plan to make him wait, Kidd?” She didn’t mask her irritation with him.

“He’s interrupting my dinner plans and I’m hungry. Job hunting isn’t what it was when I finished junior college.” Kidd took a seat at the table after piling enough food on his plate to feed him and his mother. Kidd bit off a chunk of cornbread without saying grace then made the mistake of glancing at his mother who raised a censoring brow. Kidd bowed his head, then sanctified his food.

As he chewed, he reflected on the pending meeting. What was the purpose? It never was one of Kidd’s goals in life to build a relationship with any Jamieson. As a matter of fact, he had considered changing his last name a couple of times to his mother’s name to her displeasure. He viewed Samuel Jamieson as a reproductive donor bank to replenish the earth—nothing more.

It wasn’t until Kidd was a teenager when his family learned—thanks to debt collectors trying to track down Samuel—that he had already been married twice, neither time to Kidd’s mother, and spawned eleven children. Kidd’s memory of his hide-and-seek dad began to fade as he grew into manhood. Now at thirty-one, it had been about twenty-plus years since he had last seen Samuel.

When Kidd finished eating, he went upstairs to change clothes and pack his pistol. He wanted to be ready for whatever would go down. Kidd drove the short distance and parked. What did this man expect? For them to shake hands and then shoot some pool? Kidd got out of his car and nodded to a few men loitering near the parking lot, which might seem suspicious to some, but not him because he could easily blend in with them. Kidd knew two or three of the men from tinkering on their cars. If this Cameron was a true Jamieson then the surroundings like these wouldn’t intimidate him.

“Whatz up, dawg?” Black Eye, a convicted felon, greeted him at the door of the club and slapped his back. He looked around, then glanced over his shoulder. “Kidd, there’s some light-skin brotha that walked up in here a few minutes ago like he was a regular—and he wasn’t. The guy claimed he was your cousin and you’re expecting him—a big guy. Had two other fellows with him. One could fit in and the other guy…ain’t no way—a tie? Up in here?” Black Eye roared. “You know, I’ve got ya back if you need me.” Black Eye thumped his chest.

So Cameron had sense enough not to come alone. Kidd smirked. “Don’t know him. I came to check him out.”

Black Eye reached into the waist of his pants. “I got this.”

Kidd reached out and stopped him. “No, I got this.”

March excerpt for Crowning Glory

2011-03-01T16:58:00.001-08:00

This is the last excerpt for Crowning Glory before it is released at the end of the month.

Don't forget the contest. Post a review on Amazon during the month of April 2011 and enter a chance to win the crystal slipper table lamp. For more information, check my author page on Amazon or my website. www.patsimmons.net.

Excerpt from Chapter 4:

Karyn is having second thoughts about going on a date with Levi as she gnawed on her lips. She had too much on her plate without worrying about a romantic entanglement.

“I’m not going,” Karyn decided.

“Oh yes, you are.” Buttercup squinted.

“No, I’m not. I should’ve never encouraged him by accepting his gift. He said if I tried it on, it was a yes. Since the tag is still on it. I’m giving it back.”

“Well, I guess it’s settled.”

Something wasn’t right. Buttercup never backed down and rarely agreed with her. Karyn became suspicious as Buttercup towered over her. She walked out of Karyn’s bedroom through their shared sitting area to her bedroom then returned.

Karyn recognized her roommate’s on-a-mission expression. Karyn swiped the garment off the bed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

In a swifter action, Buttercup snatched it out Karyn’s arms. With one yank, Buttercup tugged on the tag until it came off. “Oops. Sorry, but scissors are prohibited. Hope I didn’t rip a seam.” She grinned.

“Give that back!” Karyn frowned at her vain attempt to wrestle the dress from Buttercup. Karyn was hot with disbelief.

“Sure.” Unzipping the dress, Buttercup produced a marker and scribbled something on the inside before tossing it back on the bed.

“Are you crazy? What did you do that for?” Karyn raced to her bathroom. “You’re nuts,” she yelled over her shoulder. She came back with a wet hand towel. “I hope I can wipe off those marks, or you better keep one eye open while you sleep, crazy.”

As long as Karyn had known her suite mate, Buttercup had never done anything without thinking it through since her release. Clearly, Buttercup’s blood sugar was low or something.

“I doubt it will come out. Permanent usually means permanent,” she said smugly. “And hey, I’m a jailbird. You know I know how to sleep with one eye cracked.” Folding her arms, Buttercup struck a pose that reminded her of the stereotype Indian stance.

Rolling her eyes, Karyn deciphered the messy inscription: Gift from God. “What is wrong with you? Now, I can’t return it. I don’t even know if it’s my size.”

“You better believe it’s your size. If not, you’re missing dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. Don’t make me withhold water to squeeze you into that beauty.”

Tears of frustration temporarily blinded Karyn as she flopped on the bed. “This won’t work.” She covered her face with her small hands.

“Listen, Wallace, you’re a new creature. Jesus died on the cross to redeem us.” Buttercup pointed. “Old things are passed away. All things are new. Can’t nobody pin anything on us.” She thumped her chest, then joined her friend on the bed. “This Levi guy sees something in you God has shown him…”

Karyn temporarily zoned out. Hadn’t Levi said something similar? Buttercup’s raving snapped her out of it.

“People go on dates all the time, except for me of course. Halo and I are just bidding our time. Once we complete our parole, then look out. But for you, a date could mean dinner, dancing, or a movie, not a marriage proposal or a contract to bear his children.”

February excerpt

2011-01-31T22:16:00.000-08:00

Here is February's excerpt of Crowning Glory. The release is less than 60 days away on April 1, 2011.
Pre-order yours today. Be one of 50 readers to post a review between April 1-April 30, 2011, and enter into a drawing to win a crystal shoe table lamp in honor of Cinderella.

CHAPTER 3

Rossi was one of the most sought-after youth ministers at Living for Jesus Church where two sets of the Tolliver family fellowshipped. He knew how to pray, and at times, God allowed him to discern demonic criminal activity around him. Levi was also the most sought-after bachelor at the church. Rossi relaxed and smiled as he closed his Bible. “Levi, you have really moved on with your life. You have been emotionally healed,” he spoke to the wind in his quiet third-floor condo.

He lived in an upscale building that was the brainchild of Tollivers Real Estate and Development. Business partners, Rossi and Levi’s company had overseen the renovation of the former sixty-five-year-old warehouse. The six-story building featured multi-level lofts, condos, and a penthouse. Several of their family members were residents.

The cousins were often referred to as the comeback construction kids. The Tollivers had an eye to discern when to renovate or when restoration was the only way. They were known for transforming long-forgotten black neighborhoods into majestic masterpieces. If an area was blighted, their crew gave it a facelift. If they couldn’t resuscitate a building, their demolition crew took it down.

As teenagers, Rossi, who was two years older than Levi, was the ringleader of seven cousins. As men, Rossi’s bond with Levi never waned, and their bloodline had little to do with it. When Rossi repented of his sins, he set a standard for salvation that most of the young Tolliver men followed.

Rossi and Levi were alike in many ways. They worked in the same profession. Where Rossi enjoyed buying up large tracts of land in depressed areas, Levi had the vision to develop them. Both were diehard college football fans; Rossi cheered for the Baltimore Ravens, Levi was behind the Philadelphia Eagles all the way, and the Tollivers believed in strong family ties. Levi and Rossi would take soul food over barbecue any day and had the same taste in clothes—stylish but conservative.

Most times they shared the same taste in women—physically appealing, not necessarily outright stunning, and a healthy dose of temperance in their response to situations. They had to know how to hold it together when things didn’t work in their favor. In the past, Levi and Rossi had a close enough relationship to sometimes guess what the other was thinking. They didn’t agree on everything, and that was the source of heated debates. Still, they loved each other and had each other’s back.

Levi and Rossi Tolliver were also distinguishable. Where Levi was barely six feet, Rossi made up for it at six five. Levi wore glasses, Rossi had perfect vision. Levi was too light skinned for Rossi’s taste, considering Rossi was a degree away from being called midnight black. Levi could thank his Jewish mother for that one. Rossi appreciated his sole African heritage.

It was argued that the Tolliver clan included cousins in every state. Rossi never challenged the assertion. With a Pentecostal upbringing, the Tollivers spawned babies as if they were in a race to see what the end would be. It was the norm for their households to have five-plus children. However, Levi and Rossi’s parents didn’t make the cut. Levi’s father, Victor, had three sons. Rossi’s father, Ross, had four sons; neither brother had daughters.

Before Diane came along, Rossi often joked, “If she has a sister, hook me up.” Well, Diane did have a sister, but the woman was crazy. Jesetta wasn’t a bad person or bad looking. She was a born dictator and expected everyone else to line up behind her without question. Following the death of her sister, her mood swings were almost unbearable.

Over the past four years, Rossi never left Levi’s side--always a phone call away. Levi had a massive hole in his heart and life. Rossi had silently prayed for his cousin to get out of his personal purgatory where the past seemed to have a steady grip. It would never close, but the right woman, the right circumstances, and the right blessings from God could keep it from growing.

Crowning Glory January 2011 excerpt

2011-01-01T11:13:00.000-08:00

Coming April 2011...
Pre-order on Amazon.

“So, you finally asked her out—”

“Correction, Rossi, Karyn finally said yes. That woman hustled me, probably without knowing it.” There was no way Levi would disclose how he eliminated more of Karyn’s excuses. While shopping for Dori, Levi went to Macy’s to pick up a suit. As he walked through the women’s section, Levi devised a plan after a dress caught his eye on a mannequin. He envisioned Karyn’s face and body.

Turning on the Tolliver charm, he approached three unsuspecting ladies—probably another act of stalking—and asked if they wouldn’t mind helping him out. They eagerly agreed to model outfits until they learned it was for a woman who wasn’t his mother, sister, or cousin. After telling them the sad story about his wife, two ladies relented. They tried on several dresses until one held his attention. Although another woman modeled it, Levi envisioned Karyn Wallace enhancing it. He guessed the woman was about Karyn’s size.

Besides his daughter, Levi had never bought a woman a piece of clothing before. Not even for his mother, Sharon, who preferred cash, or Diane, who enjoyed the thrill of ordering out of catalogs. On the rare occasions when Diane did venture into the malls, she never deviated from her routine: Go into a store with a mission, come out with it completed.

“Seriously, Rossi, it’s something about Karyn that makes me want to jump into the water whether I can swim or not. There’s a certain level of mystique about her and that fascinates me.”

Rossi barked out a laugh before sobering. “Sounds like a Tolliver man talking. I just hope she lives up to your hype.”

Levi removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes “Although I wasn’t actively looking for a lady, it’s as if God placed her right before my eyes, sorta like ‘Here Adam, take Eve.’”

“I hope Jesetta will see that as divine intervention.”

Next excerpt February 2011. The release is April 2010. Pre-order your copy of Amazon now.

December excerpt

2010-11-30T18:57:00.000-08:00

Coming April 2011....Cinderella had a prince; Karyn has a King

CHAPTER 2 EXCERPT
“You stalked the woman?” Rossi Tolliver asked incredulously over the phone. “Have you lost your mind? There are laws against that…” He rattled on, advising Levi of the repercussions.
Annoyed with his cousin’s scolding, Levi gritted his teeth and huffed. Although his intentions were genuine, leave it to Rossi to overreact. What was stalking anyway—a misdemeanor? “Call it what you want, but it was for her protection.”
Satisfied with his own explanation, Levi finger combed the fine hairs of his mustache. At thirty-one, Levi had retired his thrill-seeker fixes the day after he hit twenty years old.
After the death of his wife, it was the counsel and prayers of Rossi, who was a youth minister, had cushioned the blows to Levi’s distraught spirit. Levi thought back to the day forty-eight months ago that changed his life forever. Some might have considered his questions juvenile, but his state of mind at the time was anything but logical.
“Is it okay to be angry with God? Does that make me less of a Christian?” Levi braced himself, fearing the answer. When Rossi didn’t comment, Levi rambled on. “The Lord allowed the devil to steal the most important person in my life. He allowed it to happen.” It was a bold accusation.
Levi had sniffed as they sat in matching chairs, facing each other in the bedroom Levi had shared with Diane. It was the night—a nightmarish day—before her funeral. A closed door separated the cousins from the crowd of comforters who did everything but console. Laughing and eating mocked the sad occasion.
Nodding, Rossi clasped his hands. His weary expression was a reflection of Levi’s. “God has grace for all emotions, but in the end, God is God, and He doesn’t make any mistakes.
“Whatever you do, don’t sin against God, man. Our thoughts aren’t God’s thoughts, so we’ll have to wait until we get to the Holy City for answers. Maybe then the Lord will explain all this to us.” Rossi swept his arm in the air for dramatics. “Remember, God never takes anything away without replacing what you lost. Our hope is to believe Psalm 115:16: Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.”
Levi didn’t know what he had expected from Rossi, but yet again, Levi wasn’t finding any comfort. “Look, man, I’ve got a little girl in there—” He paused, pointing an unsteady finger at the door—“who is two months old. Dori won’t have a mother when she begins to talk, walk, or take snapshots at her first birthday party. She’ll never know Diane…”

Crowning Glory November 2010 excerpt

2010-10-31T20:02:00.000-07:00

More Chapter 1

“Do you have a moment?” Levi didn’t wait for an answer to his summons as he turned and headed to the elevated platform that claimed to be the café’s territory near the entrance. It was the only spacious area in the cluttered bookstore. Already, Karyn’s fist was fishing for a comfortable resting spot on her hip as she formed an attitude. If I do, am I supposed to jump?
Marking his spot at a white round parlor table, he laid his bag in a black wood chair with a black vinyl cushioned seat. The buzz in the coffee shop didn’t miss a beat as he unbuttoned his black suit coat and claimed an adjacent seat. If he wore a coat, he must have left it in the car. Levi crossed his ankle over one knee and leaned back. His demeanor was relaxed and carefree as if it was his designated VIP seating.
She hadn’t planned to follow, but curious as a feline, Karyn set aside the new shipment of stuffed animals that recited bedtime stories when squeezed. She strolled to where Levi was camped out as if he was royalty. He met her eyes with tenderness. Levi’s simmering smile was ammunition to detonate a romantic explosive in some poor woman’s life.
For a fleeing moment, Karyn felt unworthy in his presence with her red canvas apron smeared with dust from opening boxes that had been sitting in warehouses. “What’s going on?”
“It’s a late birthday gift—Happy Birthday—or an early Christmas present—Merry Christmas, whichever works in my favor,” he explained, patting the bag with a Macy’s logo.
Speechless, Karyn fretted with her braid as her heart pounded wildly. She indulged in a secret moment of excitement. The contents represented anything but a birthday or Christmas present. It was a bribe gift. Karyn knew it and was flattered—confused but thrilled.
“But I…” She grasped for an excuse not to accept it, although her birthday and Christmas were ideal reasons.
Levi remained focused as he stood and pulled out another chair as if she was adorned in a ball gown. Karyn scanned the store. Besides the few pockets of café customers, it was a slow night, easily manageable by the supervisor and two other employees. Patrice could stretch any small task into an eight-hour shift.
“Let me go clock out first.”
Suddenly, Patrice appeared, arms folded and eyes suspicious as Karyn signed out for a ten-minute break. Patrice didn’t smile or frown, but her eyes hinted she was waiting for juicy tidbits to spread—true or false. Karyn always felt uneasy around the unkempt woman. Patrice spoke her mind without fear of censure. Fellow employees called Patrice harmless, but Karyn was wary of the woman’s best intentions. Beware was written in invisible ink on her coworker’s forehead. Since jobs were hard to find, and Karyn didn’t want any rumors floating back to her boss to find fault with her, Karyn gave an unnecessary explanation, “It’s quiet, so I’m taking my last break.”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ve got your back,” Patrice encouraged with a wink, then added over her shoulder as she walked away. “Watch it. That guy is way out of your league.”
Karyn knew that, but Patrice didn’t have to bluntly voice it. Ignoring the small stab to her heart, Karyn headed for the café.
Levi waited at his post in a military stance. She stole a deep brave breath as she obliged his invitation at the table and rested. Levi retook his seat, inching his face closer to hers.
“Do you remember the first time I asked you to go out with me?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.” He grunted, amused, and shook his head. “How about the second?” After she nodded, Levi recounted word for word each instance she had turned him down. “To an ordinary man, you would’ve crushed his ego. I’m not one of them. I’m calling your bluff after your last textbook recital of ‘I don’t have anything to wear.’” He presented his offering. “Problem solved. I happened to be in the mall this weekend, and you weren’t working.” Disappointment briefly brushed his face as his words mildly scolded her. “Dori and I made a special trip to buy a book from Miss Karyn. When you weren’t here, I thought I was going home empty-handed. My little girl had other ideas for my wallet, so we shopped until I practically dropped.”
Karyn laughed. Levi possessed a wonderful sense of humor. He often appeared serious—until he smiled. He was a handsome man.
“When I saw it on a mannequin, I imagined you in that the outfit. I don’t know why,” he teased with a shrug. “Here’s the deal. Since we’re both Christians, I know honesty won’t be an issue. When you get home, try it on. If it fits, then you’ve just agreed to dinner with me on Friday night.”
This time Levi didn’t ask for a date. He already had one orchestrated as he gathered his car keys. Levi shook his head as if he could hear her formulate another ridiculous excuse. “I’ll pick you up at seven, and I’m always on time.”
Not only had Levi outwitted her, he had removed his wedding band. Karyn wondered at the meaning. On his first visit, thanks to his chatty daughter, Karyn learned his status.
“Daddy’s a wido’. Sometimes he’s sad. I think he needs someone to play with,” Dori babbled on and on as Levi stood nearby, seemingly unfazed by his daughter’s assessment. A few visits later, he confirmed his daughter’s biography with his ring finger still bearing signs of his bond to his deceased wife.
Karyn looked away, hoping for a customer who needed her attention despite the fact she was on break. When there were no diversions, she swallowed. Accepting whatever was in that bag meant more than a simple dinner. He was challenging her. Again, she hated dares.
Once Karyn found her voice, she shoved doubt aside. She never gambled, but she hoped she was wearing a poker face. She couldn’t wait to tear open her present. She knew his taste in men’s clothes and little girls’ outfits, but what did he envision for her? She beamed anyway. “I agree with your terms.”
“I’ll cherish your smile until Friday.” He winked then adjusted his glasses.
“Don’t you need my address?”
“Nope. I followed your bus home awhile back,” Levi said, unashamed, then exited the store more conceited than when he first entered.
She didn’t register his last remark as she peeked into the bag, but the gift was protected with an army of colored tissue. “Yep. This is definitely some kind of test,” she whispered to herself. She had mapped out a schedule for school, work, and church. How was she going to make room for a man?

Crowning Glory October 2010 excerpt

2010-09-30T17:20:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from Chapter 1 (unedited)
Coming April 2011. Pre-order your copy.

Without a test, there can be no testimony. Karyn Wallace reminded herself five minutes after she agreed to a date with Levi Tolliver. She wasn’t Cinderella, and Karyn doubted the widower would be her Prince Charming.

Yes, she was affected by the most beautiful dark chocolate eyes she had seen in her lifetime. They were hypnotic, even camouflaged behind designer glasses, which were angled perfectly on his chiseled nose. Levi’s skin was a blend of chocolates: dark, milk, and white, which created a creamy undefined tone. His thick, black wavy hair and thin mustache were nice touches, but it was Levi’s dimples that seemed to be on standby, waiting for his lips’ command to smile.

Buffed at—she guessed about—five feet, eleven inches, Karyn wasn’t intimidated by Levi’s height as he towered over her petite stature. “You might as well surrender to what God has stirred between us,” Levi stated as if he had sealed a business deal after his seventh visit and counting in a month to Bookshelves Unlimited where she worked as a kid specialist bookseller.

Suspicion set in. What does he know about God in my life? At twenty-seven, Karyn was too old to play games. Sometimes the devil injected the word God into conversations as bait to Christians so they would believe they’ve found a kindred spirit. Where was Levi’s spiritual allegiance? She didn’t have time to test the waters to see if she could survive another relationship gone awry. The memories of one bad relationship had a way of lasting a lifetime.

When he moved intimately closer, his lashes mesmerized her, catching Karyn off guard. “Deny the attraction, Karyn.”

She hated dares. Bluffs got people into trouble, hurt, or sometimes killed. Karyn blinked. Now, she was getting carried away. Anchoring her elbows on the table in the store’s café, Karyn nestled her chin in her hands. She took pleasure in delaying her response. After all, he was interrupting her dinner break.

“I’m attracted to flashy cars, white kittens, black-eyed peas, and—”
“Me,” he interjected as a fact.

Karyn refused to confirm or deny his assumption, but she silently admitted she was enjoying their banter. There was something intoxicating about a person who oozed confidence. Despite her outward boasting, building her self-assurance was—at times—an inner struggle. Shrugging, she continued as if she didn’t hear him.

“Although I don’t own a flashy car or a white kitten, I can put away some black-eyed peas.”
“Your preferences are noted.” Levi lifted a brow and held it in place to make sure he had Karyn’s attention.

Only after she became impatient did he soften his features and smile, offering his sidekick dimples for her pleasure.

“My Buick LaCrosse is new, but not flashy. My daughter is allergic to cats, and my mother can throw down on any beans, peas, or greens.” A dimple winked as he stretched his lips into a lazy grin. “For the past four years, my spirit has laid dormant, waiting on a word from God. Now, all of a sudden, with no warning, I got a message plain enough that even a caveman could read it.” He snickered.

Karyn smirked. “I’ve seen those GEICO commercials, and I’m not impressed.”

About Crowning Glory (2011)

2010-07-03T13:40:00.000-07:00

Cinderella had a prince. Karyn Wallace has a King.

Crowning Glory is not your typical love story where poor girl meets rich guy or good girl meets bad boy. Karyn served four years in jail for an unthinkable crime. She embraced Christ through the Crowns for Christ prison ministry. Once released, Karyn is strong and confident despite the stigma society places on ex-offenders. She will not be swayed from the scripture “He who the Son has set free is free indeed.”
Levi Tolliver doesn’t have a record, neither a tardy slip in high school nor a speeding ticket. For the most part, Levi is a practicing Christian. The only exception is he doesn’t believe in turning the other cheek. He believes there is a price to pay for every sin committed. His perfect life is shattered by the senseless killing of his wife during a blotched grocery store robbery. He questions why bad things happen to good people, so criminals get no pity from him, “Lock them up and throw away the key.”
But Christ is for the underdog. What will happen when Perfection (Levi Tolliver) meets Imperfection (Karyn Wallace)? God has the combination to keep Levi from locking out Karyn. Levi has a decision to make and the odds are against him.

Still Guilty (April 2010) March excerpt

2010-02-28T14:00:00.000-08:00

Parke meets the man who adopted a child who could possibly be his son.

“Mr. Jamieson, I’m Mr. Ann, GJ’s father.”
Now it’s GJ as in Gilbert Junior? He’s trying to bait me. Parke lifted a brow and stood. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, but he may call you dad, but if he’s mine, I’m Parke’s father.”
Gilbert snorted and took a seat. “I’m going to save us some time. The adoption is final. What are you trying to prove after the fact?” He leaned forward.

Parke sat back and tapped his finger on the bare table. “If PJ is my son, I plan to fight for custody.” He didn’t blink.
Gilbert taunted Parke with a laugh that rebuked his statement. “I recall that you agreed to my conditions.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re wasting your time and mine. No judge in the state will overturn the adoption based on an ‘I didn’t know’ excuse.” He leaned back as if he had trumped Parke’s card. “This meeting had nothing to do with you, but was confirmation that I had made the right decision. I knew you were trouble the moment you called my house.”
Relax your fist, Parke. Relax. Stop imagining his lip swollen, Parke could hear Cheney’s voice.
They threw taunts back and forth as if they were riding on a seesaw. A waitress approached to take their orders and both waved her away. Now Parke was hungry. He had worked up an appetite, but he was focused on one thing only. “If I lose, at least my son will know his natural father wasn’t a wimp or coward—that Parke Kokumuo Jamieson the Sixth was a man who loved his son, but was denied access. He will know I would spend every dime I had to secure his release.”
“Ha!” Gilbert dropped his head back and laughed again. “Release? You make it sound as if he’s been captured.” He slapped his palm on the table.
Parke mentally tried to hum every gospel song he could remember or recite scriptures he had read. He admitted he was in the midst of a serious ordeal. “In a way, yes, because regardless of who set the trap, God already has a plan of escape. My tenth great- grandfather was also captured in Africa, but he escaped slavery in the United States.”
He switched to spiritual warfare. “You can’t see them, Mr. Ann, but I came with backup. God has dispatched legions of His angels to help me. It doesn’t matter what you or the law says. All I have to do is endure until the end. You game? Because I’m suited up.” Ah, that felt good to get out.

Still Guilty (February 2010) excerpt

2010-01-31T19:42:00.001-08:00

“Hold on, counselor.” Judge Kendall interrupted the opening statements. Her facial expression gave away what was about to come. “Mrs. Beacon, my courtroom is not the place for theatrics. Armed criminal assault is a serious charge. I’ll overlook your choice of attire, but keep up with your shenanigans, and I’ll have no problem having you disrobed and thrown in jail.”
Mrs. Beacon leaped to her feet despite the efforts of her two attorneys at her side to restrain her. “Your Honor, in all fairness, I didn’t interrupt the man. You did.” Mrs. Beacon turned to her group and they nodded in sync. “I’m harmless and old enough to be your grandma. I’m—”
“Enough!” Judge Kendall slammed her gavel. “If you don’t behave, today won’t be your best day. Now, sit down and take off that hat. This is a courtroom, not the Kentucky Derby.”
“But Your Honor, I feel naked without my bonnet—” She didn’t finish as her attorneys wrestled her to her chair. One had an arm wrapped around her waist while the other was brave enough to cover her mouth while apologizing to the judge. When Mrs. Beacon bit down on a finger, he released the muzzle.
Rainey had enough. He got up from his seat as the judge added more charges to Mrs. Beacon’s slate. Exiting the Barnum and Bailey arena, Rainey exhaled to release the jumbled emotional mess from thirty minutes in Mrs. Beacon’s presence.
Outside the courtroom, the scene was just as maddening. The number people had swelled. It was as if Santa’s elves, topped off in red hats, were scurrying doing nothing. As he tried to head to the restroom, a bunch of old women refused to let him through, mumbling something about his name wasn’t on Mrs. Beacon’s list. What list?
“I’ve heard of a key for access to the men’s room, but a list. I just walked outside this courtroom.”
“Hmm-mmm. That’s what they all say,” a woman with a long face and Jay Leno chin argued.
“Excuse me again, but this is a public building,” he had politely informed them, trying his best not to yell.
“Exactly, young man, and we are here to enforce the building code. You’d make one person over the mandatory limit. We need all the space we can get. With so many women here, we’ve taken over the men’s restroom. Sorry. Just hold it a little while longer,” one cute little woman advised. “Whatever you do, don’t think anymore water. Coffee, teas, and soda could also act as diuretics.”

Still Guilty (April 2010)

2010-01-01T09:33:00.001-08:00

A loud noise caused Penelope to bark twice, but she didn’t move to investigate. Malcolm jerked his head in the direction outside the front door. Parke leaned forward. “What was that?”
Ellington tilted his head, straining to listen. Suspicion caused his nostrils to flare. “You heard that too?” Standing, Ellington stomped to the window, angled his body as if he was on a covert mission, and peeked through a slit in the curtains. Without an explanation, he dashed to his office, almost tripping over a bowl of untouched cheddar popcorn.
“Where are you going? What’s wrong?” Parke asked. He and Malcolm stood alarmed.
“Somebody’s trying to steal my truck. I’m going to get my gun,” Ellington yelled from another room.
“Wait a minute before we get in a gun battle. Let’s head outside first. Maybe we’ll scare them off,” Parke advised his friend. “Probably a bunch of kids…”
Malcolm frowned. “The more reason I say call 911. I’m not putting my life on the line over your custom, fully loaded F-150 truck. I’m a newlywed, and if it’s God’s will, I’ve already mapped out a long, enjoyable life with my wife.”
Parke shoved his brother. “C’mon. Let’s see what’s up. Be a man, not a hubby.”
“Humph. The other option is much more rewarding,” Malcolm retorted.
Ellington raced out his home office with a gun stuffed in his waistband. The brothers followed. The driver of a monster-size tow truck had finished strapping the wheels to drag it off private property.
“Hey! Hey! What are you doing? Get away from my truck!” Ellington shouted, but the person kept working.
Parke’s jaw dropped. He back slapped Ellington across the chest. “Man, are you having money problems? You could’ve asked me.”
“Shut up, Parke.” Ellington marched down the steps to his truck. “Listen, man, I think you…” He halted when he noticed bright red lipstick. “The repo man is a drag queen? Great. Why use a gun when my fists will do?” he mumbled as he balled his hands.
The repo man held the clipboard away from his jacket. “Do I look like a man to you?” the woman snapped in a lethal tone that would’ve been sexy under different circumstances.
Ellington was blindsided. “You look like a thief,” he argued, not deterred.
“If you paid your bill, I wouldn’t have to come like a thief in the night. Back off. I’m just doing my job. You can settle your bill—”
“Imani?” Parke asked, surprised he recognized the sass behind her voice. It had been a while since he had seen Cheney’s best friend who was also Mrs. Beacon’s neighbor.

Introducing Still Guilty (April 2010)

2009-12-01T04:45:00.000-08:00

This is Book III in the Guilty series. This is a scene taken from Chapter 2, concerning Cheney's surrogate grandmother shooting their father.

Dr. Rainey Reynolds didn’t understand his twin sister, Cheney Reynolds Jamieson. She was sleeping with the enemy—not in bed, but she was guilty by association. He was seconds away from demanding to know where her family allegiance lay as they engaged in a fierce stare-down duel.
They were outside their parents’ palatial home, which was tucked behind a tree-lined block on Westmoreland Avenue in the Central West End, an affluent area within St. Louis city. The fifteen-room, three-story stone-and-brick mansion was daunting. Once a person entered, the feeling of being swallowed up wasn’t an exaggeration.
Rainey hovered four inches over Cheney, but that didn’t intimidate her. Not much of anything did. Naturally beautiful, people wouldn’t believe she was as tough and stubborn as she was.
“Remember the family pact?” He blinked, losing the battle.
Frowning, Cheney squinted. “Nope.” She jutted her chin higher and folded her arms, indicating she had time for an explanation.
“The unspoken rule,” he stated, hissing. “If somebody talks about your mama, it’s fighting words, or if someone jumps your sister or brother, we all fight.”
“We’re thirty-three years old. I’ve long ago put away childish things.” Cheney turned to terminate their conversation. As she began to step down the brick-covered circular steps, he reached out and stopped her, causing Cheney to teeter on the edge.
Glancing over his shoulder, Rainey double-checked their privacy. He wanted to make sure their bickering hadn’t summoned their parents’ housekeeper, Miss Mattie, to investigate the disturbance.
“It’s the same concept, twin. We should stick together in this crisis.” He interlocked his hands. “Traitor,” he bit out with venom then added a few profane words, which forced Cheney to blink. Tilting his head, Rainey gave her a look that was mean enough for a burglar to think twice about breaking and entering. “You don’t get it, do you? If my so-called friend hurt one of my family members, it would be over, and my cut would be clean.”
Cheney sighed and offered a strained smile. “Ever heard of forgiveness?”
“No.” Rainey wanted to shake his sister until her dead brain cells came alive or fell out. She saw nothing wrong with befriending a woman who wanted their father dead.
He didn’t care that Cheney had moved next door to Mrs. Beacon, who fabricated a lie that their upstanding father was a hit and run driver who mowed down her husband. Who knew that Mrs. Beacon would take it a step further and try to harm their father? Now, their father had to go on trial for an alleged hit and run fatal accident, which was ridiculous. It was mind boggling that Cheney still maintained a friendship with the lady.
“Not when it comes to my enemies, Cheney. I happen to be selective about extending amnesty.” Rainey tried to control his temper and non-existent high blood pressure, a condition that would surely surface once the trial portraying his father as a murderer was over.
“God’s trying to get someone’s attention. No, make that a whole lot of folks’ attention.” She waved her hand in the air, stepping closer.
“Well, the Lord’s got it, because every media outlet in the area is probably enjoying this.” When she reached out to touch him, he moved back, disturbing a pillar of flowers.
“Rainey, this is not about you.”
He grunted in disgust, jiggling keys to his black metallic BMW. The jiggling was a habit that annoyed others; still, he allowed the nuisance to fester when he was irritated.
“That’s where you’re wrong, twin. This is about the Reynolds family, our reputation, and integrity. I will not believe our father intentionally ran over Mrs. Beacon’s husband with his car and then cowardly left a man to die. Not only can he lose his medical license, he can go to prison for something he didn’t do. It’s a good thing that bullet grazed his shoulder, or he would’ve been dead.”

August 2009 Not Guilty of Love Excerpt

2009-08-01T17:50:00.000-07:00

Hallison was a mess, from her hair to her clothes, but her heart had taken the biggest hit. The truth was Hallison had a tiny seed of hope that it was God’s will that she and Malcolm would find their way back to each other. After seeing Malcolm and Lisa, there was no hope to keep alive.
She had exactly three blocks to get her mind together before returning to work. That gave her less than a quarter of a mile for her tears to mingle with the downpour that had already drenched her. Hallison gave herself a pep talk. “This too shall pass.” She forced a smile to curious onlookers who also had been targets from the rain. “That’s it. I need someone, too, Lord.” Her only consolation was at least Alexis had dolled her up for the competition.
All she wanted to do was go home and climb in the bed, then pig out on ramen noodles and Oreos followed by a half of bottle of Pepto-Bismol. It dawned on her that she probably resembled Chaka Khan’s sister. Hallison reached up to finger-comb the damage, but her hair wouldn’t budge. Agitated, she gritted her teeth. Hallison wished a hefty bonus could entice Alexis to skip an out-of-town wedding to redo her hair. Alexis would laugh at the offer.
“What about tonight? Oh, God, I can’t miss the final night of the sermons,” Hallison mumbled, groaning. She stood frozen at the entrance to the Metropolitan Circle building. No doubt her linen suit had absorbed water like a Bounty paper towel and shrunk. Straightening her shoulders, Hallison shrugged as she opened the door and entered the lobby.
Ignoring the stares, Hallison walked with her head held high like a runway model as her shoes squeaked across the floor. She had to steady herself as she slipped and glided across the marble floor before grabbing a doorknob to keep her from skating past her department. She nodded to her assistant as if she was dressed for an evening ball and headed to her office.
An explosion of laughter echoed from behind her as she shook her hair like a shaggy dog. Putting on her game face, Hallison slowly turned around to face her opponent, squinting. As her nostrils contracted, she snarled, “If you don’t have a hair pik, Sammie, don’t bother coming near me.”

July Not Guily of Love Excerpt

2009-07-02T05:21:00.000-07:00

Malcolm couldn’t stay away from Lisa. Evidently, she had read his mind as she swayed into his office without knocking, wearing another black outfit. Malcolm bit his tongue to keep from salivating. Did the woman know how hot she was in black? She carried a sack lunch and flowers. Standing from behind his desk, Malcolm crossed the room to free her hands.
“Food and flowers. You do know how to spoil a man.” He kissed her hair and laid the items on a small table. Lisa waited as Malcolm pulled out her chair.
She jutted her chin and twisted her lips in thought. “Considering my dad is dead, I don’t have any brothers and few male cousins, I would say you’re a lucky man who I intend to keep,” she complimented as Malcolm gently scooted her closer to the table.
Taking a seat, Malcolm mumbled a quick blessing then ripped open the bag. “You’re not eating?”
“I did already.” She smiled, stretched, and watched.
Malcolm licked his lips after he bit into his ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese on warm Ciabatta bread. He grinned. “You’re a woman after my own heart.” He winked and gulped down a bottle of water without pausing. “Plus, you smell good.”
“That’s my flowers. I usually don’t wear perfume, remember? I like the natural scent of my body.”
He lifted a brow. “Is that so?”
Lisa nodded with a mischievous glint in her eye. Malcolm was falling hard. Getting up, she walked behind his chair. As if knowing his thoughts, she pinched his shoulders before administering a seducing massage. “Relax.”
He did, closing his eyes and enjoying her massage. Malcolm wanted to kiss her, but it would’ve been considered an indecent act, especially if Lilly caught them.
“Better?” Lisa cooed as she tilted his head back and planted a kiss before guiding his head up and down in a silent yes. “I know you can’t talk about the audit, but Malcolm, I have to share this….”
Malcolm stiffened and turned around. “Lisa, I won’t talk about the audit. We gave up our rights, or at least I did, to talk business when we became involved. Plus, we’re in my office. There’s no way I’m going to jeopardize my career with a casual conversation that could become misconstrued.” His stern expression backed up the fact that he meant business. I may be falling hard, but I haven’t landed, he thought.

June excerpt of Not Guilty of Love

2009-05-31T14:21:00.001-07:00

Getting on her knees, Hallison crawled under her desk and snagged her new Victoria’s Secret pantyhose on a stray emery board. “My ten-dollar hose!” She groaned and continued gathering her things until she fingered something unfamiliar. She dragged it out of the shadow of the desk until she spied the magnifying glass. Picking it up, Hallison twirled the handle between her fingers as she sat back in her chair and recalled the day Malcolm had given it to her. It was a Friday and they had met for lunch. He was toting a small bag.
“I brought you something.”
“I know—you,” she had teased.
“Great minds think alike. I love it when you focus on me because God knows I enjoy every moment I focus on you.”
Malcolm wasn’t slack showering Hallison with traditional gifts—candy, flowers, perfume, and jewelry—but it was the personal things he shared about himself with her that were the most memorable.
He had lifted his bag. One by one, he pulled out items she needed in order to trace her family roots just as he had done and continued to do on both sides of his family: a magnifying glass to read old documents from hundreds of years earlier; a hand-size notebook that was filled with definitions that was a lifesaver for every genealogist; and a note that professed his love for the first time.
“It’ll take me until the end of our lifetime to stop needing and loving you. I don’t want any secrets between us,” Malcolm had said. His voice shook with emotion.
Hallison sighed as tears filled her eyes. Sniffing, she twirled the magnifying glass again. She closed her drawer and tapped on her keyboard.
She typed in www.slcl.org for the St. Louis County Library, a trick Malcolm taught her to access records from the comfort of any computer. From that moment on she was addicted to the hunt for her ancestors until she broke it off with him. Hallison smiled, remembering how she and Malcolm would celebrate her discoveries.
It had been from her office computer that she had Googled her maternal great-grandmother’s brother, Ellis Brown. Unbelievably, Hallison had discovered an article written a decade earlier. Ellis had perished in a house fire in Kansas City, Kansas. He was a hundred years old. After that Hallison went on to locate Ellis’ original draft registration card where his occupation was listed as a farmer on Wyatt Palmer’s property.
She couldn’t believe he was listed among 150 Ellis Browns on rootsweb.com. “Bingo,” she had screamed, grabbing her phone. After three attempts, she had punched in the correct numbers for Malcolm’s office.
“Winfield & Young Accounting, Mr. Jamieson’s office,” his sweet, older secretary answered.
“Hi, Lilly. Is Malcolm busy?” Hallison couldn’t contain her excitement.
Lilly laughed without knowing the joke. “Hi, Hali. Does it matter? He’ll always want to talk to you.” She transferred the call.
“Hi, baby,” Malcolm spoke into the phone after Lilly introduced the call.
“Malcolm! I found a great-great… I mean a great-uncle. He actually lived in Kansas City…” She rambled in fragmented sentences.
He listened between humorous grunts. “When did he die?”
“March 1993, in a house fire. What a bummer.” Her heart pounded in excitement and disappointment.
“I can’t believe Ellis Brown lived to be one hundred and was only three hours away. Why couldn’t he have held off that last cigarette until I found him before he set the house on fire while he slept?” The online obit had led her to cousins she had never known existed.
Those were moments of bliss she didn’t want to forget. It had been months since she searched through the Heritage Quest database. Although it held most records from 1790, Hallison’s search for Ellis’ grandmother, Minerva Palmer Lambert, prior to 1870 was stalled.
Minerva was born about 1848, and Hallison hadn’t determined if her third great-grandmother was owned by Monroe County, Arkansas, attorney Jno Palmer. So on the 1860 slave schedule, Hallison began searching for Minerva Palmer Lambert as a twelve-year-old slave girl. When she couldn’t find any matches with his slave girls, Hallison gave up.
Pecking away on the keyboards, Hallison gnawed on her lip as she uncovered another possible prospect—Eliza Palmer. She had traveled from North Carolina in the 1850s to take possession of Palmer slaves that included three mulatto fugitives. Hallison grinned at the possibility of renegade ancestors.
Moving closer to the screen, she peered through the magnifying glass. “C’mon, Minerva Palmer, where are you? Who owned you last?”
“Who owned whom?” Ursula asked as she breezed into Hallison’s office unannounced.
Hallison dropped her magnifying glass and lost her place. “Do you ever knock? I could’ve been in a meeting or interviewing a candidate.”
Shrugging unapologetically, Ursula claimed a chair. She sported an auburn pageboy wig that happened to complement her tan suit. “Hey, I tapped on your door a few times. When your assistant walked by, she said it was okay for me come in.” She twisted her thin lips. “Now, who owned somebody, and since when do you need bifocals?”
Shaking her head, Hallison shoved the instrument back inside her desk drawer. “Oh, nothing.”
Ursula pointed an unpolished finger, which meant she had an upcoming manicure appointment. “If it’s ‘oh nothing’ from you, then I interpret that to mean it’s ‘oh something.’”
Hallison cleared her throat. “I had a genealogy urge, and I found something that might be connected to my ancestors, but I’m not sure. Malcolm could’ve found it in less than thirty seconds,” Hallison mumbled.
“Malcolm. Umm-hmm, that name sounds familiar.” Ursula worried one wayward hair strand that religiously sprouted on her chin the day before her hair appointment. Suddenly, she sat straighter and leaned forward. “Because it is familiar. Why don’t you call the man?”
“And say what? Malcolm, you’re perfect and I’ve turned you into a monster since I chose God over you. I’m sorry, you’re more important. Have you found a replacement for me, yet? Well, I haven’t either, so do you want to get back together until God tells me to dump you again?”
“Humph, sounds good to me. You never know. A brief fling might do you two some good. Listen, Hallison, even I know what you want even if I never hear you say it.”
Rocking back in her chair, Hallison closed her eyes. “Yeah, but it ain’t what God wants.”
Ursula stood and slammed her palms on Hallison’s desk to get her attention. When she did, Ursula pointed from her eyes to Hallison then back again. “Explain this to me again. How do you know it was God talking to you? What exactly did He say?” She shook her head, not waiting for an answer. “Personally, I still think it was just your imagination.”
“Believe me, if it was my imagination, it would be filled with things I could do with Malcolm, not without him. Plus, there is a scripture in the Bible that says God’s sheep know His voice. Same as a pet who after having got away, hears its owner’s voice and comes running.”
Ursula tsked. “So God has reduced you to a pet, huh? Hallison, this almost sounds like a cult.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs.
As if for the first time, Hallison saw Malcolm’s confusion through Ursula’s eyes. Ursula wasn’t convinced God would or could reach out and touch an individual. Hallison had failed to win over Malcolm; she hoped she did a better job with Ursula. “Believe me, I heard a personal message from God. I had to choose between my lifestyle or God’s.”
Ursula frowned, unconvinced. “Well, I think you made the wrong choice.”

May excerpt of Not Guilty of Love

2009-05-01T11:40:00.000-07:00

“Who told you to let peace go? Speak up! God can’t hear you,” the pastor of Faith Miracle Church preached the following morning.

Hallison sat in her usual pew, next to Parke and Cheney. One familiar space next to them was missing. Hallison scanned the sanctuary and spotted Mrs. Beacon on the opposite side near the back.

“What part of Exodus 14:14 don’t you understand? The Lord shall fight your battle, or ye shall hold your peace? This is not an ‘if’ scripture. It’s a ‘just do it’ by faith scripture. If you drop peace, the only thing you’ll pick up is discourse…” Elder Baylor Scott ministered to the congregation.

At the end of service, Mrs. Beacon, with her head high, headed for the west exit as Cheney chatted with Hallison.“We needed that message, sister,” Hallison said, hugging Cheney. “Hey, where’s your husband?”

Cheney looked around and saw him. “You know Parke. It seems he can’t leave church without speaking to at least one hundred people. C’mon. He’ll meet us at the SUV.”

They walked out the building to the parking lot. Hallison found a piece of candy for Kami as Parke’s heavy footsteps caught up with them. He was snarling.Hallison frowned; Cheney lifted her brow.

“What’s wrong with you? We’re still on church property and you look mad.”

Parke waved his wife off. “Sorry. Let’s go.”

Cheney didn’t move. “I don’t know what attitude you slipped into just now, but go take it back to the devil.” She pointed to nowhere. “What is wrong with you, Parke Kokumuo Jamieson VI?”

“Oh, no, not that K word,” Hallison joked with a smirk followed by giggles. When she couldn’t contain herself, a hearty laugh escaped.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny because I find it downright irritating.”

“What?” Cheney squinted.“That’s the second guy this week. First Bible class, now today.” Parke disarmed his vehicle. “Brother Carr and now Brother Thomas asked if Hallison was my sister and if she was available.” He frowned incredulously.

“What did you tell them?” Hallison hadn’t thought about other men expressing interest in dating or them asking her former boyfriend’s brother to intercede on their behalf.

“You don’t want to know.” Parke opened the SUV’s back door, and Kami insisted on climbing in unassisted.

“Wait a minute. Hali and I both want to know.”

He cleared his voice. “Well, the short version is that you’re separated and he just left jail this weekend.”Giggling, Hallison slapped his arm.

“Why would you say that?”

“Honestly, Brother Carr changed jobs three times within the past six months. It had nothing to do with the economy. Brother Thomas, I just didn’t like him, period. Either way, neither would pass my inspection.”

April excerpt of Not Guilty of Love

2009-03-24T15:01:00.001-07:00

“She did what?” Cheney yelled, springing up in bed. The news interrupted her Saturday afternoon nap. Despite being somewhat drained from her pregnancy, she was fully alert. “What did you say?”
Parke sat on the bed and massaged her arms in a subtle way to keep her calm. This was not the way he wanted to wake his wife. Usually, he would massage her stomach until Cheney slowly woke refreshed. He swallowed before repeating, “Baby, I said Grandma BB shot your dad.”
“When?”
Parke cringed. “Last night.”
Cheney’s lips moved before any words came out. “And I’m just now finding out?”
Please help my wife, Lord. She’s going to need it, and there’s good reason, Parke thought. Months before he married Cheney, Roland Reynolds approached Parke with a startling confession. The strained relationship with his daughter had less to do with her long-ago decision to have an abortion, but more to do with the sins of his own past.

“Cheney, I don’t want you to upset yourself. He’s alive. He’s alert and talking. It was a small wound to his shoulder.”
“Well, that should make me feel better,” she bit out. “I don’t care if it was his shoulder! It could’ve been his head or heart. Grandma BB is out of control.” Cheney sighed to compose herself, rubbing her stomach to ease the baby’s kicking. “Missouri should’ve never passed that conceal-and-carry ordinance and granted Grandma BB a gun permit… I can’t believe this.” Tears streamed down her face. “Wait a minute. Daddy was over this way? He lives in the city. He didn’t tell me he was stopping by for the baby shower…”
He had no choice but to go in for the kill. “It wasn’t an accident, honey. I believe she was purposely trying to take him out.”
Tilting her head, she squinted. “What do you mean?”
Parke sighed, knowing he was about to ignite a firecracker. “Grandma BB thinks Roland is guilty of something…”
“What?” Cheney grimaced as she wrestled with the covers, finally throwing them back. She didn’t wait for Parke to finish explaining, nor did she welcome his daily pampering that had begun the day they learned she was pregnant. She was becoming hysterical. Despite her protruding stomach, she rushed into the bathroom.
With a little more than three months to go, Cheney had cut back her hours at work as a building manager for Missouri Telephone and worked afternoons from their home, which was less than ten minutes away. The purpose was to get rest, not be stressed.
“Going somewhere?” He attempted to remain composed as he stood. He suspected her dash to the bathroom wasn’t a nature call.
“Yep, to get dress. First, I’m going to see my dad.” She paused. “Nope, scratch that. Let’s do a drive-by Grandma BB’s.” She balled her fist. “Then I’m going to the hospital to see my dad. Now, who’s driving, you or me?”“I guess I am,” Parke resigned, grimacing.

March excerpt of Not Guilty of Love

2009-02-28T08:34:00.000-08:00

“Hey, man. Roland has superficial wounds to the shoulder and upper chest. He’s going to be okay, but doctors are keeping him a few days for observation.”
Malcolm digested the information, relayed the update to Hallison, and disconnected. Her hands flew in the air in silent praise. Afterward, she sniffed, but said nothing as she hurried inside the police station. The lobby was small with a metal protruding counter and a few chairs against white walls. The counter’s opening was protected by glass as if it was a drive-though bank teller’s window.
“May I help you?” a woman behind the window asked as she sat at a desk. She didn’t bother to look up.
As Malcolm opened his mouth, words spewed from Hallison’s non-stop. “Yes. Our friend, Grandma BB—I mean Mrs. Beatrice Tilley Beacon—we think she shot somebody. I mean that’s what we heard. We really don’t know.”
Malcolm contained his amusement. He loved it when Hallison was flustered. She was downright sexy. Malcolm gently scooted her over and took charge. Smiling, he winked at Hallison then cleared his throat. “We would like to pay Mrs. Beacon’s bail.”
The woman casually licked her fingers before flipping a page in a magazine. “She’s at Christian Northeast Hospital.”
Malcolm supported Hallison’s body as she wavered. She searched Malcolm’s eyes with hers before turning back to the window. “Oh, my God, was she shot, too? What’s her condition?”
The clerk shook her head, took a sip from a reusable Big Gulp cup and sighed. “She looked okay to me. We’ve got a running tab up at the hospital because suspects feign heart, asthma, or bladder attacks. One woman even said she was having a baby. It turned out to be cocaine she swallowed. It’s all stall tactics. The officer will finish the booking process when your grandma returns,” she said dryly.
Facing Malcolm, Hallison’s brows knitted with concern. She whispered, “She doesn’t have a heart problem or asthma. I don’t know about her bladder control. That woman is shooting at people and lying, too.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” the eavesdropping clerk interjected.
“Why be a saint when being a sinner will do?” Malcolm mocked then brushed an unwelcome kiss against Hallison’s ear.
Stepping aside, Hallison leaned unnecessarily closer to the security glass. “Thank you for the information. We’ll head up to the hospital.” They turned to leave.
“Ma’am, she’s in police custody, so you won’t be able to see her,” the clerk said with finality, slurping from her empty cup.
Malcolm folded his arms, contemplating their next move. He didn’t mind spending time with his ex. He just didn’t want to do it at a police station. “Okay. We’ll wait in the lobby.”
“Unless you’re her doctor, clergy, or attorney, you won’t be able to see her here either. After she’s charged and warrants are signed, she’ll be transported over to the St. Louis County jail.”
“Hali, we can go home and wait until tomorrow, but I know you. You won’t be able to sleep.” Grimacing, he stroked the hairs on his beard. His behind was already protesting a wait longer than fifteen minutes in an antique chair, but with Hallison, he would have to tough it out. “Do you really want to wait?” He knew the answer when she gave him her bring-a-man-to-his-knees angelic expression.
“Please, Malcolm.”
He counted to three as he appeared to consider her request. “Okay. C’mon, girl. I’ll try to hang.” With Hallison’s hand still latched on to his, Malcolm allowed her to lead him to a set of chairs pushed into a corner and they took a seat.
“Thank you.”
“Hali, why are you thanking me?” He looked from their interlocking hands to the full lips he had kissed earlier. In the corner under a dimmed light and no audience was the perfect setting for a tryst, but he wasn’t in the mood to fight with her over what she perceived as unwanted advances.
“Because I know I can’t make you understand why I broke it off—”
“No, you can’t,” he said, shifting in his chair. He was starting not to recognize himself from the clipped tone he was using more and more with her. She was driving him insane.
Sighing, Hallison pleaded, “Please don’t hold it against me, Malcolm.”
One more request from his ex. He turned over their connected hands, admiring the slight contrast in skin tones, his—light toast, hers—medium toast. Hallison’s back stiffened waiting for his response. Instead, he guided her head to his shoulder. Hallison complied without arguing. “I will always love you, Hali.” She relaxed.
“I’ll never stop loving you, too.”

February excerpt of Not Guilty of Love

2009-02-28T08:13:00.000-08:00

Not Guilty of Love
Laughter, lively conservations, and jazz spewing from the surround-sound speakers couldn’t drown out Malcolm’s trademark entrance. The doorbell buzzed twice, paused, and buzzed again. As if knowing Parke’s door would be unlocked, Malcolm waltzed into the living room.His presence demanded attention. Without asking, he got it. Hallison’s heartbeat accelerated. It had been months since Hallison had seen him. She had purposely avoided him when she visited Parke and Cheney. A few times they had come face-to-face, but Hallison had a ready-made excuse to flee. “Oh. Hi, Malcolm. I’m on my way out. I don’t want to be late for church,” she would say, reciting a practiced line.His speechless response was also pre-set with an amused expression, challenging her truthfulness. Twice, she had driven to the church and sat in the parking lot, repenting for the fib. She couldn’t keep running away from her temptation, so she refused to bolt this time.Months ago, she had invited Malcolm to what she considered their final intimate dinner. Surrounded by the restaurant’s romantic ambiance, Hallison sobbed silently as she placed the four-carat diamond ring back into his palm with a shaky hand.Begrudgingly, Malcolm accepted more than the ring. It symbolized their engagement had officially terminated and their couple status had been dissolved.Malcolm wasn’t the one who got away, but was instead the man God instructed Hallison to give away. The Lord had issued the ultimatum: Malcolm, the love of her life, or Him, the One who gave her life.Women would be waiting on the sidelines, ready to steal Malcolm’s affections with a no-option-for-his-release clause in a relationship contract. On the outside, Hallison felt she was a fool to let a good man go, but spiritually, as a self-proclaimed backslider, her salvation clock was ticking. To her, the decision was a smart move, one she couldn’t explain, except to a few church friends. God had let her know loud and clear she had to first deny herself of her fleshly desires, pick up her cross, and follow Him.How long would I have to fast until I would be spiritually strong enough to quench my craving for Malcolm’s voice, his touch, and his smothering eyes? she questioned God as she controlled her breathing to keep Malcolm from seeing how much he affected her.

About Not Guilty of Love

2009-02-28T08:10:00.000-08:00

Not Guilty of Love
Malcolm Jamieson and Hallison Dinkins have the charisma, the chemistry and the commitment of an everlasting love until God shatters their foundation.Malcolm isn't the man who got away, but the one God instructs Hallison to give away if she’s serious about her walk with Him.Malcolm becomes suspicious with his fiancée sudden religious conversion. It doesn’t take long for him to find one hypocrite: gun-toting widow, Mrs. Beatrice Tilley Beacon aka Grandma BB. She professes the same salvation on Sunday, but seeks revenge on Monday to settle an old score.Malcolm issues Hallison an ultimatum, “Fine, if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other. If not, there is a stronger love that awaits us.”Unbeknownst to him, God gives Malcolm exactly what he didn’t ask for—a woman not after God’s own heart. Someone has to retreat, and God doesn't lose a battle.

Talk to Me

2009-02-28T08:03:00.000-08:00

On Thanksgiving Day, at nine-thirty in the morning, I fell in love. It was swift and irrevocable. In other words, I lost my common sense. Without warning or fanfare, I succumbed to Mackenzie Norton’s allure. Love is such a strange emotion—never enough time to savor all the sweet moments. It’s hindsight now that I’ve lost her.
Sometimes the memories taunt me, other times they provide comfort. When my eyes close, Mackenzie appears. Her brown eyes twinkled, causing a sexy glow to spread across her face. Her hypnotic trance released strong vibes that were undeniable. She was such a puzzle, allowing me the pleasure of seeing how her pieces fit together. Inside the church walls, she was sober. With me, her mischievous antics would issue challenges.
Mackenzie. The way she commanded her body possessed my senses. Thank you, God, for my eyes to see. With deliberate movements, Mackenzie’s hands beckoned to me, sprinkling magic along the way. Long, slender arms danced with the grace of a swan.
For the initial five seconds I laid eyes on her, I dismissed her until she demanded my attention without trying. A gentle spirit tempered her powerful personality. Yes, Mackenzie’s magnetism was undeniable. She became my teacher and I, her willing student. I chuckle at the memories.
Mackenzie had the most enchanting smile. Ah! Did I mention her lips? They were my worst distraction and her best asset—shapely and full, in a natural pout. They moved like a musician manipulating his instruments. Have I mentioned she was a feisty, five-foot four-inch beauty who was committed to her convictions?
Glistening skin reminded me of wet brown sugar—my attraction. A head of messy curls was her crowning glory. On any other woman, the look would’ve been scary, but it was Mackenzie’s trademark—stylish, sassy, and sexy.
During our quiet time, we mouthed promises to each other. We honored each word with sincerity and care, vowing not to break one. It happened anyway. Mackenzie was to blame, or maybe I was.
One evening we savored the quietness. We were being silly as we watched the sunset at a deserted playground. I spoke aloud a wish as I pushed Mackenzie on a swing. “I miss dancing. The final song I heard was Donna Summers’ “Last Dance.” How prophetic. More than anything I wish we could dance the night away,” I had told her.
Mackenzie dug her heels into the ground, halting the swing. Turning around, she finger-kissed the sadness, disappointment, and pain from my eyes. “I promise, Noel, one day, we’ll dance.” I didn’t hear her, but I knew she was sharing a secret when she always touched me. Now our chance will never come. I hate broken promises.
It had nothing to do with me being one of twenty-eight million Deaf Americans. It wasn’t from birth. I was almost sixteen years-old when the doctors delivered the tragic news to my parents that I had lost my hearing. They were in shock. My mother cried, knowing my family lacked the skills to communicate with me. I’m lucky—no, I’m blessed—to be alive, unlike my childhood buddy, Keith Morrow, who died in the freak explosion near a fireworks plant. He was an only child.
Anyway, I grew accustomed to interpreters signing at events, but it was Mackenzie’s contagious enthusiasm that sucked me into a storm, whirling me into the eye of the hurricane. Never had I witnessed an interpreter wrapped up in so much pleasure and total involvement in communicating what was happening around me. Not only did I see and feel; Mackenzie made me believe I could hear the choir’s rendition of “My Life is in Your Hands,” a Kirk Franklin song I had never heard.
My heart jumped at a thunderous rumble inflicted by Mackenzie’s imaginary wooden drumsticks, pounding invisible drums and tapping fictitious cymbals. With confidence, her fingers stroked pretend piano keys. Her expression, most humorous, depicted the altos’ deep voices and the sopranos’ melodious high pitches.
Who knew that when I stepped into that church, I would enter utopia? Suddenly, I felt like praising God for what I had—my eyes to gaze, hands to enjoy her soft skin, and a heart that throbbed faster when she was close. At that moment, for some unexplained reason, I thanked God that I was deaf. Can you believe that? I thanked God for allowing the worst event to happen in my life, because it made me the happiest. How else would I’ve met a woman whose love was fierce and unconditional? Then months after our meeting, I, Noel Richardson, lost Mackenzie Norton.
***LET ME EXPLAIN HOW IT ALL HAPPENED...Read more excerpts at http://www.talktomebook.blogspot.com/

Guilty of Love

2009-02-28T07:51:00.000-08:00

Durham, North Carolina

“Larry,” a trembling voice whispered into the phone, “I’m pregnant.”
Gripping the receiver, Cheney Reynolds sniffed back tears. She waited and waited—for soothing words of comfort, shouts of jubilation, or any response from her boyfriend. Instead, silence ensued. Seconds dragged into minutes.
A boom of laughter exploded in the hall outside her dorm, startling Cheney. High-pitched voices consumed with gaiety seemed to belittle her predicament. Fellow Duke University students were making plans for a night of partying. Cheney had to think beyond tonight. Somehow, she had lost focus and allowed her promising, secure future to be in the hands of one man.
Larry Thimes exhaled a restless breath through the phone before speaking as if his teeth were glued together. His words measured, his tone stiff, like the ugly all-season brown curtains hanging at her dorm window.
“Then you know what must be done,” he responded in a clipped tone.
“No. What?”
“Get rid of it.”
“Just like that? No discussion?” Cheney shut her eyes as darkness invaded her mind. “But—” She tasted the bile racing up her throat. “Oh, my God, no. You can’t mean that.” The room began to spin. She closed her eyes, but the dizziness was already set in motion. This wasn’t suppose to happen. She and Larry had practiced safe sex. Now she wondered if the phrase was a misnomer.
“Sweetheart,” Larry said as if talking to a child, “you’re scheduled to graduate next semester, remember?”
“I know, but—”
“You’re enrolling in Duke’s Global Executive MBA program. Plus, I’m completing my J.D. and will be busy studying for the bar.”
“Maybe—”
“I can’t even support myself. Sorry, a baby isn’t an option for us right now.”
Stress deepened the lines in Cheney’s forehead. What Larry said was true. In addition, Cheney did want to be married before she had a baby. At least that’s what society deemed acceptable. Cheney didn’t think about etiquette when she was with Larry. What would her parents say about her pregnancy? Her mother would faint from the thought of embarrassment. Her philosophical father would gather his thoughts before advising her of his disappointment. Her older sister, Janae, would be shocked, and her twin brother—he would be ecstatic. Rainey always loved children.
Sifting through her situation for the third time that day, Cheney had to concur with Larry. A pregnancy wasn’t in their plans. After all, she had won a four-year scholarship. I can’t just throw it all away. She was an educated, up-and-coming professional, but her heart pounded against her chest, refusing to comply. “Larry, maybe we should think about this. There has to be another way.”
“No, Love. There isn’t.”
She gnawed on her fist, crying. Larry was the calm, reasonable and decision-maker in their relationship. He was the strong black man every sistah craved and every woman would endure drastic measures to keep. His charm opened doors for him as if he were royalty. He had showed her how to love and was now the father of her child. Larry mocked her when he didn’t hesitate to say, “kill it.” No, it was like a slap in the face from her lover.
A collage of their romantic moments played in Cheney’s mind. She sighed, visualizing Larry’s long, dark-chocolate fingers outlining her lips when she smiled or right before he smothered them with kisses.
Cheney remembered the night they shared their first slow dance at a campus fraternity party at the end of her freshmen year. At that magical moment, she wanted to be with Larry for the rest of her life. At the end of her sophomore year, she had shared her entire being with the self-confident, look-twice-handsome and sensitive Larry Thimes. I could use some sensitivity right now, she pleaded silently. Didn’t Larry realize how much in love she was with him? Their souls had connected in passionate lovemaking that had produced a little miracle. A baby, their baby. Cheney shook her head in disbelief. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare. “Larry—”
“Cheney. There’s no point to keep discussing this.”
“There is no discussion. You’re dictating to me.”
"We’ll have another child later,” he consoled before snapping, “How could you’ve been so stupid and allowed this to happen anyway?”
“Me?”
Did he just blame me? Larry’s harshness caused Cheney’s head to pound. Her heart ached as her stomach contracted. Suddenly, her prenatal, P-M-S, post-menopause, and any other hormones that scientists had yet to identify kicked in. I am not the one to mess with, she shouted inwardly. She couldn’t talk anymore, much less breathe. Without a goodbye, she slammed the phone down.
It had taken Cheney seven days to accept the fact that she was a pregnant, unmarried college student. Larry only needed five seconds to give a responding, “no.” At least she had juggled the idea of motherhood versus a career, and the sacrifice they would have to make.
“Why couldn’t he say, ‘A baby? Honey, that’s wonderful, or ‘What do you want to do?’ or ‘We can get married now or later’,” she fussed to no one. Instead, Larry had failed the ultimate test. Sitting still on her narrow twin bed, Cheney listened as water dripped from a corner sink and voices shouted in her head.
The boisterous women had moved inside to the adjoining suite connected by a small bathroom. Mentally tormented, Cheney collapsed against the wall, rubbing her belly. The phone rung, but it was her prerogative to ignore it.
She couldn’t stand Larry’s name at the moment. “I sure don’t want to hear your voice,” Cheney said, needing time to think and pray. She sobbed instead.
As an hour ticked by, Cheney’s swollen eyes half-registered the room’s blackness. To wake up from a bad dream, she forced her body to the sink and patted cold water on her numbed, red face. She sighed at her tousled reflection. “I’m pregnant.” Cheney yanked her long, black hair as if she was about to extricate weeds from a manicured lawn. “Career or motherhood, what am I going to do? God, if I ever needed you, it’s now.”