Wednesday, April 30, 2014

My Review of The Prodigal Son

As the title suggests, Kimberla Lawson Roby penned a delightful tale of a son's journey home. But there is more to The Prodigal Son than that story. The author covered several dramatic topics with unexpected turns, which had me turning the pages until the end. It took me less than 2 days to read and it would've been shorter if only I didn't have to work, eat or sleep. Readers will enjoy our hero's growth process as he learns how to forgive and to love again. The ending... The ending... LOVED it.
ARC used. Not required to give a positive review.

The Reverend Curtis Black hasn't spoken to his son, Matthew, in over a year-not since Matthew dropped out of Harvard to marry his girlfriend, Racquel, and be a full-time father to their infant son. Curtis knows that it was he and his wife, Charlotte, who drove Matthew away, but he prays that one day his son will forgive them and come home.

Matthew, however, can't seem to forget the pain his parents caused him and Racquel. Still, he wonders if maybe they'd been right, as fatherhood is not what he expected, and Racquel's behavior has become increasingly erratic. Matthew genuinely wants to be a good husband, though, and swears he'll never repeat his parents' mistakes. But when an old friend expresses her desire for Matthew, the temptation may be too great to resist...

Then, there's Dillon Whitfield, Curtis's long-lost-son, who has settled in as a member of the Black family. Yet the transition has been anything but easy. Charlotte, convinced he's only after Curtis's money, wishes he would move back to where he came from. Dillon, however, has no intention of going anywhere. After a lifetime in the shadows, he's determined to take his rightful place as Curtis's first-born son and heir, and he'll do whatever it takes to win his father's affection-even if it means playing dirty...

As jealousy builds and secrets pile up, both of Curtis's sons will be pushed over the edge and forced to take drastic action. Can these two troubled young men find their way back into the Black family fold, or will their family ties be undone once and for all?
Kimberla's novels are categorized as Contemporary Mainstream Fiction. Her target audience is primarily women of all ages, but men read her novels as well. The primary subject matter discussed in THE PRODIGAL SON is family drama relating to both marriage and sibling rivalry.


Chapter 1

Matthew stared at his wife of ten months and shook his head. Racquel, who was sitting at the opposite end of the chocolate brown, leather sofa, looked over at him and frowned. “What?”

Matthew shook his head again. This time, his eyes screamed disappointment. But all Racquel did was purse her lips and turn her attention back to the flat screen television. It was a noticeably warm Friday evening in May, and though Matthew was a bit tired from his long day at work, he would have loved nothing more than for the two of them to be out somewhere together; maybe have a nice dinner and catch whatever new movie was playing. But as usual, Racquel was contently curled up—like an unconcerned couch potato—doing what she did best: watching some awful, ungodly reality show.

Matthew leaned his head back onto the sofa and closed his eyes. Not in his wildest imagination—not in a thousand lifetimes—would he have ever pictured himself being so miserable. But miserable he was, and worse, he now realized that getting married at the young age of nineteen had turned out to be a horrible mistake. He’d now turned twenty, but he could kick himself for giving up a full, four-year, academic scholarship to Harvard University, something he’d worked very hard for his entire childhood—and now this was all he had to show for it? This, a tiny, two-bedroom apartment, a twelve-dollar-an-hour job at a bank, and no love life of any kind to speak of?
Not since the day he’d been born had he ever had to struggle financially. Even before he’d met his father, which hadn’t happened until he was seven years old, Matthew had lived a pretty good life because his maternal grandparents had always seen to it. Then, of course, when his mom had married his dad, he hadn’t gone without anything.

He must have been crazy in love or crazy out of his mind to think he was doing the right thing by getting married. He also couldn’t deny how right his mother had been, every time she’d warned him about having unprotected sex. He still hadn’t spoken to either of his parents in more than a year—not even when they’d mailed him a ten-thousand-dollar check, and he’d torn it up—but his mom had been correct in her thinking. Matthew wasn’t sure why he’d been so careless and irresponsible. Although, he was proud of the fact that he’d immediately manned up as soon as he’d learned of Racquel’s pregnancy and had decided to be there for both her and the baby.
Then, as it had turned out, Racquel’s parents had told him that they would take care of little MJ until he and Racquel finished college—since Racquel had been scheduled to attend MIT a few months after the baby was born. They’d also wanted Matthew to get his education without any worries, so off to Boston he had gone—and life had been great until that dreadful day in January when Racquel had gone into labor much too early. A huge blowup had ensued between his mother and Vanessa, the two grandmothers to be, at Racquel’s baby shower, and Racquel had gotten herself all worked up over it. Next thing anyone had known, her water had broken and she’d been rushed to the hospital.

Matthew remembered how terrified he’d been that Racquel would lose the baby, but thank God, everything had turned out well. Little MJ had been born with a respiratory problem, but he’d ended up being released from the hospital just a few days later. Although, the more Matthew thought about all that had evolved, he was saddened further because none of what had occurred on the day of the baby shower could compare to any of what had happened a few weeks afterward. His mother had concocted the most outlandish scheme, and before long, the Division of Children and Family Services had come knocking at the front door of Racquel’s parents’, stating that they’d received two phone calls claiming child abuse. Of course, none of this had been true, and although in the end, the truth had been exposed and Charlotte had been arrested, the whole idea of little MJ being snatched away from Racquel had been too much for her to handle. It was the reason she now regularly obsessed over their one-year-old son, and she never felt comfortable leaving him with her own parents, let alone anyone else.
She wasn’t even okay with Matthew taking MJ to see his sister, Alicia, or his great-aunt, Emma because she feared something might happen to him or that he might be kidnapped. That whole DCFS incident had ruined Racquel emotionally, and Matthew had a feeling things would never be normal for them again. As it was, she rarely left the house, and she no longer visited any of her friends when they came home from school for the weekend. She never invited anyone over to the apartment either.

Matthew opened his eyes and turned his head toward Racquel. At first she ignored him, even though he knew she saw him looking at her, but finally, she turned toward him in a huff.

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

Matthew gazed at her. “Because.”

“Because what, Matt?”

“Look at you? All that long, beautiful hair. When was the last time you even bothered to comb it? Or put on a little makeup?”

“Excuse me? Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I have a baby to take care of. So trying to look beautiful is the very least of my worries.”

“Maybe. But have you taken a good look at this place?” Matthew scanned the living room and looked toward the kitchen. Her and MJ’s dirty clothes, were scattered everywhere. He also saw just about every toy MJ owned strewn across the floor. “It’s a complete mess, Racquel. We’re practically living in filth, and you stroll around here like it’s clean as a whistle.”

“Like I said, I have a baby to take care of.”

“Is that also the reason we don’t make love anymore?”

Racquel squint her eyes. “Is that all you care about?”

“No, but I think it’s a cryin’ shame that I’m a married man, yet I haven’t had sex in over two months. And even when we did it then, I had to nag you for three days about it.”

Racquel rolled her eyes and turned back to the television.

Matthew snatched the remote control from the sofa and turned it off.

Racquel stood up. “Are you crazy? What’s wrong with you?”

“Everything, Racquel! I’m sick of this. All you do is watch those mindless reality shows, eat a ton of junk food and then you watch more stupid reality shows. And I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

“Oh really? Well, why don’t you leave then? Why don’t you just file for a divorce, because nobody’s forcing you to be here.”

Matthew swallowed hard. He’d known for a while that they had major marital problems, but he hadn’t expected her to suggest a breakup so quickly. “Wow. So that’s how you feel about me?”

“You’re the one complaining, Matt, so if you want out I won’t try to stop you. If you’re that miserable and unhappy, then what’s the point?”

“Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?”

“I’m not saying that at all, but you’re mother ruined everything for us. She had my child taken from me, Matt. She made false accusations about me and my mom, even though neither of us would ever do anything to hurt little MJ. I nearly had a nervous breakdown over that nonsense.”

“I understand that, baby, but my mother hasn’t been in the picture for a while. I cut her off because of what she did, and then I married you. I stuck by you, because I love you.”

Racquel didn’t respond and walked into the kitchen. Matthew wasn’t sure whether to follow her or not. He knew she’d been traumatized, but he also didn’t think it was fair for her to blame him for his mother’s actions. He hadn’t done anything to cause her pain, and actually, all he’d done was try to love her and be there for her. He’d given up Harvard, a close relationship with his parents, and a comfortable way of living—all of which he hadn’t minded doing as long as he had his wife and son.

Racquel walked back into the living room with a can of orange soda in her hand and a package of cookies and dropped back down on the sofa. She sat as close to the arm of the couch as she could and as far away from Matthew as possible.

“Maybe we should see a counselor,” he said.

Racquel picked up the selector and turned the TV back on, but she never looked at him. “I don’t think so.”


“Because there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Maybe not, baby, but you just said a few minutes ago yourself that you nearly had a nervous breakdown.”

“That was then, but I’m fine now. I’m good.”

“No, you’re not, and neither are we as a couple.”

Racquel sighed loudly and pulled her legs under her behind. She flipped through a few channels and finally settled on…another reality show.

Matthew wanted to protest—wanted to shut the TV off again, but instead, he got up and went into their bedroom. He dove face first onto the bed and took a deep breath. A ton of thoughts gyrated through his mind but there was one thought that troubled him a great deal: he regretted ever marrying Racquel. He did still love her he guessed, but he was starting not to like her very much and this wasn’t good. As a matter of fact, to him, not liking the person you were married to was a lot worse than not being in love with them. If you didn’t like someone, you almost hated having to be around them. Then, you eventually got to a point where you avoided them completely, and there was usually no turning back from that. Matthew hated the way he was feeling because something told him that his once happy marriage was only going to crumble even further—not just slightly but to the extreme.

( Continued... )

© 2014 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Kimberla Lawson Roby. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author's written permission. Copyright infringement is a serious offense. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only. Share a link to this page or the author's website if you really like this sneak peek.

The Prodigal Son by Kimberla Lawson Roby
Series: A Reverend Curtis Black Novel

meet the author

Kimberla Lawson Roby is a New York Times, USA Today and Publishers Weekly bestselling author of 19 novels, with her 20th novel, THE PRODIGAL SON being released, May 13, 2014. She is also releasing her 1st Christmas novella in November 2014. Kimberla is the 2013 NAACP Image Award winner for Outstanding Literary Work - Fiction and lives in Illinois with her husband, Will.

Monday, April 28, 2014

Color Blind: Sample Chapters

The First Book in the "Able to Love" Series.
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Chapter One
Was that who he thought it was? Saul Sweeterman arched his wiry body over the steering wheel and peered through the windshield. His wiper blades sloshed away the fury of the pounding rain but it was difficult for him to see.
It was three o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon in May. Like clockwork, it was pouring rain. But even in the rain, he could see.
It was her.
He gazed at the passenger in the vehicle across the lane from him. Indeed, there sat his daughter, Cassandra Matthews, who hadn’t spoken to him in three long, agonizing years.
Sitting at the intersection of Veterans Blvd and Atwater Ave., he was glad for the red traffic light signal because he’d been given a precious glimpse of his beloved Cassandra. Eyeing her black, no, African-American, husband, Kellan Matthews, resentment filled his heart. Saul’s lips became as ugly as his feelings transforming into a harsh, angry line. Kellan was the reason he’d lost Cassandra.
Saul spotted a little head bouncing up and down in the rear seat behind his daughter’s seat. He tilted his head to get a better look. His granddaughter, Emily, was a beauty. There was no denying that. But, Saul’s problem was that she was biracial, and Saul couldn’t accept that. The races shouldn’t mix. He didn’t advocate slavery or apartheid, but Saul drew the line at interracial dating and marriage. It just shouldn’t be done. That’s what his parents had drilled into him from a child. It had been ingrained into his belief system. If pressed, he wouldn’t be able to provide a legitimate argument as to
why he held such a firm belief, but Saul didn’t need one for something so intrinsically unnatural.
He had friends who were of a different race, but he’d never crossed that line. He hadn’t felt the need to explain this to his daughter either. He had assumed that it was just understood. Saul had been wrong. He sighed. He’d made a fatal mistake when he hadn’t spelled things out to his daughter.
“But your best friend, Uncle Marvin, is black,” Cassandra protested the day she broke the news that she was pregnant and getting married to a black man. She pointed over to the picture frame displayed on the mantle.
Saul followed the direction of her finger and smiled with fondness. Marvin was a goofball and committed to the game. They’d spent hours bonding over basketball until an injury ended Marvin’s chances in the NBA. Marvin didn’t let that deter him, though. He kept on going. “Yes, but, that’s because we played ball together. Marvin Alton was the exception. He married his own kind.”
“You’re prejudiced!” Cassandra screamed. She clenched her fists and got right up in his face like she was ready to fight him. Like she wanted to hit him.
“Don’t you fix your mouth to say those words,” Saul said. “I’m not prejudiced—I just have my preferences. I’m being realistic. Your child will have a lot of issues to deal with. He or she will struggle with developing an identity.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Cassandra scoffed. She turned her head away from him blocking him from reading her face.
Saul remembered turning her head to face him. He looked into blue eyes so like his own, and touched her corn silk blond hair before saying, “Don’t marry him, Cassandra. Don’t have this baby.”
She gasped and turned from him in one single motion. Shame crawled up his spine. Saul wasn’t going to take his words back. He didn’t believe in abortion, but this was a unique situation. This constituted an emergency.
“In this day and time you’re asking me to be ashamed that I’m in love? When I told you about Kellan you sang his praises and encouraged me not to let such a promising young man, as you called him, slip away.”
“Yes, but that was when I thought... I mean Kellan didn’t sound like a...” Saul sputtered.
“A what? A black name?” Cassandra’s eyebrows creased. She raised her hands to still his words. “Dad, please stop talking. You’re going off every stereotype in the book and it shocks and saddens me. You’re behaving like a dinosaur. I love Kellan and my baby, and we’re going to get married.”
With a patriarchal tone and a wide swoop of his hands, Saul dictated, “Well, I want no part of it. If you marry him, don’t expect me to walk you down the aisle and smile and pretend I’m all right with you marrying someone you barely know—what’s it been five months?”
Tears filled her eyes. Saul knew he’d hurt her, but he wasn’t backing down.
Cassandra was just as stubborn. She walked out of his house, married Kellan and had her child without him. The only move Cassandra made was to send him a picture of
Emily when she was born. Saul had the picture buried under some papers in his nightstand, but he never initiated contact.
The rain poured.. Saul drank in the sight of his daughter, as the minutes crept by. She looked so much like Nora. He could hardly bear it. He shifted his eyes to look in the rearview mirror.
“What the?” He scrunched forward. Was he seeing right? There was a semi speeding in his direction. The moron was driving too fast for the slick roads. He wouldn’t be able to brake in time. Saul’s body clenched. This was an accident waiting to happen and the driver showed no signs of slowing down.
“Slow down! Slow down!”
The truck jumped the midline. Oh, no! He was heading straight for Cassandra’s car. Saul’s heart rate escalated. His palms sweated. He turned his body to get a good look behind him. Oh, boy, the truck wasn’t going to stop. For a few tense seconds, Saul debated. He jumped out of his truck. “Cassandra! Kellan!” he yelled. They were playing with Emily in the back seat.
Soaked, Saul scuttled towards his truck. There was only one way to circumvent what was coming. Saul knew what he had to do. He started the engine and slammed on the accelerator, praying his sturdy F-150 could take a hit. The truck driver must have finally caught on. Saul heard the sharp squeal of brakes. The semi began to spin on the slick road.
Saul continued driving. Cassandra and Kellan saw him at the same time. Their faces mirrored expressions of shock and horror as they looked up and saw the Semi truck coming towards them. Saul registered their furious efforts to get Emily out of her car
seat. “Get out the car,” he roared. Kellan jumped into the rear seat and covered his daughter with his body.
A millisecond before impact, Saul swung his truck in front of their vehicle. The semi truck rear-ended him. Saul’s F150 swung out into the ditch. He felt the crushing effect of steel against steel. Saul’s body reeled as he narrowly missed being hurled into the street. Cassandra’s car was now an easy target and the semi truck screeched to a halt as it slammed into their car. Saul heard screams and then a boom as glass shattered.
“Cassandra!” he wailed, willing his body to move, to go to his daughter, but a strong force pulled him slowly into blackness. As he succumbed, Saul heard a faint whisper in his ear, “Saul.” The quiet voice soothed him and peace reigned as he drifted off. Then suddenly, all was silent and blessed quietness engulfed him.

Chapter Two
Six weeks later

Aniyah Hays knocked twice and then pushed the door open to Saul Sweeterman’s room in the rehab wing of Fawcett Memorial. The lights were off and the curtains drawn. For a moment, she entertained the notion that Dracula waited to suck her blood dry. She grinned. Dismissing her fanciful thoughts, she slid the curtains back and turned on the lights.
“I didn’t say come in.” Saul Sweeterman snarled.
Now she knew why everyone on the floor called him Meanerman. She rushed to identify herself. “Mr. Meaner—er—Sweeterman. I’m Annie Hays, your physical therapist.”
“I don’t need a physical therapist,” he answered. “I survived a punctured lung and a damaged spleen. I’m confident that in time, I’ll be able to walk just fine. What I need to do is get out of here.”
Annie counted to ten then employed de-escalation strategies, not wanting to rile his temper. With a light touch to his arm, she said, “Yes, in time, you will get out of here. But you’re looking at at least another month or so before you can walk on that foot.”
“Don’t patronize me. I’m not four years old!” In a swooping motion, he reacted, shrugging her hand off his arm. She wasn’t prepared for his strength and found herself flung across the room. She crashed into the food tray.
He swung his head in her direction. “I—ah—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” His gruff manner depicted a man who was uncomfortable with apologizing.
Annie didn’t register his answer. Her mind was on two things. The first was that Saul Sweeterman had the most riveting pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen. The second was that they were unfocused and zoomed on a spot above her head. Sweeterman was blind. She’d read that when she reviewed his chart.
“Are you hurt? Ms. Hays, please answer me. I can’t see for myself.” He pointed out the obvious.
Annie nodded, before catching herself. She cleared her throat and found her voice. “Yes—I’m fine. No harm done.”
So the bear had a gentle side. Interesting. Since he couldn’t tell, she stared him down, taking in his blond hair and his imperial jawbone. He was super-hot. No one had mentioned that pertinent fact. And, those deep blue eyes reminded her of the clear Florida sky. Whew! She could stare into those orbs for days.
Then, he spoke. “You might as well leave and work on someone else because I’m not moving from this bed.”
And, the Beast is back. Annie rolled her eyes but ignored him. She hummed, Tamela Mann’s, “Take me to the King” and pulled the sheet back away from his leg. She wasn’t going to chance a kick to her rib cage, so she notified him of her intentions. “Mr. Sweeterman, I’m going to examine your leg.” Though she was petite, she had strong hands.
He jerked his foot in protest. “Don’t touch me.”
“I have to if I want to help you get back to normal. Dr. Pryor removed the cast, but you have pins and screws in your leg. You’ve been immobile and Dr. Pryor is thinking you’re healing well enough to put you in a plastic walking cast.” She made sure
to keep her tone firm, so he’d know she meant business. She’d handled football players and basketball players. Annie wasn’t about to let this one intimidate her.
“My left leg was broken in two places,” he growled. “But I’m able to get myself to the bathroom.”
“You shouldn’t have been out of bed and you need to wait for someone to assist you. She lifted his leg with expert precision. “Your muscles are sore and tense. I’ll work this out for you but you need to stay off your feet until Dr. Pryor says it’s okay.” She massaged both his legs.
He emitted a distinct masculine groan of pleasure, followed by a grunt of pain. Sympathy tore at her. “I’m sorry. It will feel better in a few minutes.”
The angry line that was his lips curved a little. She saw a hint of a smile. “I can’t wait to experience that feeling. It’s been awhile.”
She caught the double entendre. So, he was a flirt. She blushed and was surprised to find her heart beating faster. She cleared her throat and kept her tone professional. “I’m going to release the knots. It’ll be uncomfortable for a minute, but then...” she trailed off, continuing her ministrations, until she heard a distinct release of breath.
“Ahh, I had no idea I was in pain. My legs feel like butter.”
Annie had received this reaction from patients so many times in her career, that she’d been dubbed Magic Hands. With a pat on his leg, Annie said, “That’s it for today. Tomorrow we work on getting you fitted for your cast and on your feet.”
“Five more minutes please?” he begged.
Annie prided herself on her ability to remain detached. She had already stayed beyond the stipulated forty minutes. “A few more minutes, but then I have to go. I have other patients.”
She hummed while she continued her massage before she said, “I’ll be back on Wednesday to work with you again. In the meantime, please don’t overextend your leg.”
He nodded. “How many days will you be seeing me?”
“Twice a week.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. She knew from the nurses that he hadn’t had any

visitors. Why should she care?
“I’m here in the hospital every day, though, so I’ll swing by and check on you.”

She could’ve bitten her tongue. Had she really uttered those words? She wondered as she departed his room.
“You survived Meanerman,” her best friend, nurse Sari Noonan, said.
Annie smiled and winked. “He was sort of sweet,” she mused, knowing she had a sappy look on her face.
Sari looked at her like she was crazy. “Sweet?
Annie grinned at the look on Sari’s face. As she strolled towards the elevator, she admitted she was actually looking forward to seeing Saul again. As luck would have it, she ran into Sari on her next scheduled visit.
Sari shook her head when she saw where she was headed. “Good luck with him. He’s in rare form. I told Dr. Pryor that I was through working with him. My job is to help and to heal not to be humiliated.”
“Keep your head up,” Annie reassured her friend. With a question in her eyes, she crept into the room. Her eyes scanned the tossed tray and the food contents splattered all across the room. Why had he done this? Lord, please guide me and lead me. She felt a tiny frisson of fear akin to Daniel entering the lion’s den. Annie berated herself. He’s a man, not a lion.
He could pass for one though. She placed a hand over her mouth with shock. Seeing his mane of hair all helter-skelter and his unshaven beard did sort of make him look like the king of the jungle.
“I can hear you breathing,” he spat. “So identify yourself. I’m blind, not deaf.”
His rudeness spurred her temper. She swooped all the contents off the floor and snatched one of the bed linens to clean the linoleum. She knew she could summon housekeeping, but Annie needed a moment to gather her wits or she was going to wring his neck with her bare hands.
“Are you going to answer me?” he hurled in her direction.
“Quit roaring at me,” she snapped and went into the bathroom to wash her hands. She strode towards the door. She didn’t have to put up with this rude behavior. Sari hadn’t warned her enough. “I don’t get paid enough to be insulted.”
“No, Annie, come back! Please!” he roared pulling himself upright.
Her hand stilled. He called her Annie. She spun around. “Being a patient doesn’t give you the right to be insufferable and mean.”
“You’re right,” he hung his head. “That explains why I’m alone.”
His puppy-dog face didn’t fool her. “Quit the act. You’re just trying to make me

feel sorry for you.”
“Is it working?” He gave her a lopsided grin.
Saul Sweeterman could be nice when he wanted. She chuckled and moved to undo his cast. She picked up his leg to give him a quick massage.
“So how come you’re alone?” she asked, shifting the conversation into less dangerous territory.
He rested his head back against the pillow. “Well, I wasn’t completely honest. I’ve ran off all my buddies from the dealership with my bad attitude. No one’s been to see me for weeks at my insistence,” he said.
“So, your being alone is your own fault. You need to call your friends and apologize. You have a long road ahead and you can’t do it by yourself.”
He had the grace to blush. She watched the red splash across his cheeks and her hands stilled for a second. She made herself get back to work.
“I also have a daughter and a granddaughter,” he chattered.
“What? You’re not old enough to be a grandfather.”
“I’m forty-three. Let me spare you the mental math by saying I was a young

father,” he drawled. His face depicted bliss from the work of her hands.
“Where do they live?” She switched to his other leg even though it didn’t need

massaging. “Make sure to keep exercising this leg. The other one you do with me.” He nodded and answered, “They’re here in town.”
“Really?” Her unspoken question hung in the air.
He must’ve been in need of a listening ear because Saul spilled. “I don’t have a

relationship with them because of my own stupidity. I didn’t approve of the man she
married and I allowed that to interfere with our relationship. I haven’t even met my granddaughter. Her name is Emily.”
She heard the regret in his tone but was surprised that he’d revealed so much of his business to a virtual stranger. “Why don’t you call her?”
“Believe me, I would, if she’d let me. She’s changed her number so I can’t call her. Cassandra, that’s her name—she blames me for her husband’s death.”

Chapter Three

Chanel No. 5. He’d know that scent anywhere.
“I didn’t think you’d be back,” Saul declared. In his mind, he pictured the willowy brunette with her body angled against the door. Macy Masters didn’t stand. A top model, she was always striking a pose.
He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “And, please don’t tell me you have your secret agents lurking about,” he added, referring to the dogged paparazzi men who popped up in the most unusual places.
“Don’t worry, I know how to ditch those eels. It’s just me, here. I value my privacy as much as you do,” she replied, not hiding her contempt.
Saul nodded knowing how Macy detested the downside of having a recognizable face. He teased, “Are you hiding under sunglasses with your hair stuffed under a hat? I’m surprised no one recognized you.”
Her laughter tickled his ears. “Don’t laugh at my inspector Gadget getup. It has done me well. I didn’t feel right leaving you here alone and if I have to come incognito, then so be it.”
Saul was touched, but he didn’t want to share his feelings. So he threw out a useless taunt. “Didn’t feel right leaving me alone while you spend my money?”
He heard a huge sigh and the clip-clop of her signature five-inch heels. Not that she needed them standing at five-eleven.

“Why is everything with us about money, Saul? Why does it have to be so cut and dry? I have money of my own. In fact, I have quadruple what you have so I don’t need your pittance.”
“Pittance? I’ve more than doubled my fortune since we met two years ago,” Saul bragged. Her hand grazed his cheek and he lifted his chin in her direction. He inhaled. She smelled so good.
“I’m here because I love you and you’re going to have to accept that,” she whispered in his ear.
Deep down, he knew she told the truth. Macy was a beauty inside and out. He hated that he didn’t return the sentiment. His accident had been the perfect excuse to push her away. He loved her but not in the way she craved. 
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Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Broken Vessels Book Tour

This book captivates the essence of living life with the pain and mask of unforgiveness eating away and fermenting the heart while piercing the soul. Exposing the lives and experiences of eight ordinary women journeying separately but cohesively, Barconia entangles herself with each personality to seize the moments of brokenness, mending, healing and restoration.

About the Book
In Cherylrese’s latest release “Broken Vessels,” she explores how forgiveness is the key to all situations in order for the soul to be set free and experience life to the fullest.
Cherylrese Barconia is a creative, loving writer who embraces the characters of her newly released novel Broken Vessels (River Flow Publishing, 2013). This book captivates the essence of living life with the pain and mask of unforgiveness eating away and fermenting the heart while piercing the soul. Exposing the lives and experiences of eight ordinary women journeying separately but cohesively, Barconia entangles herself with each personality to seize the moments of brokenness, mending, healing and restoration.

Questions for the Author
How did you come up with ideas for this book?
Because of my ability to travel I encountered many situations where I was able to observe women from all walks of life become women that mask and conceal pain, equating to unforgiveness.
What was the most difficult aspect of writing this book?
The most difficult aspect of writing the book was I didn't know I would become a character in the book. The book was being written for women to help bring illumination and transformation in their lives. Because I had walked many paths similar to theirs, I concluded the book with my story.
Why do you write? Is it something you’ve always done, or always wanted to do? Or is it something that you started fairly recently? 
I began writing at age twelve, not being aware that I had a gift to express myself through words. So, I won a contest in elementary school then didn't pick up a pen again until I was 26. My first book written was poetry and I didn't know that writing out my feelings would bring healing into my life.
Any advice to give to aspiring writers?
I would advise aspiring writers to be themselves. Your words of expression can touch lives if you give people the best of yourself and not imitate anyone else. The gift to write can be expressed in so many ways for you to inspire, encourage or uplift people.
Meet the Author
Minister | Speaker | Author Cherylrese Barconia-Henry
Author Cherylrese Barconia-Henry captivates the mind of not just women, but allows men to sensitize themselves to the passion that ordinary women experience through the pain that life undoubtedly brings and the testimonies that flow from the forgiveness of God and themselves. Broken Vessels is Barconia's third book. Author Barconia shares with Jump Start Your Day Blog, how “society has women competing with each other, and not able to sensitize with one another because of the common denominator consisting of pain from the past or obstacles of the present hindering forgiveness. Freedom will come through forgiveness. Women can be healed from their past hurt, overcome obstacles and live with purpose. As women we conceal and or mask pain of the woman we have become, discouraging the woman we were destined to be.”
Author Cherylrese Barconia-Henry has also penned ‘Peace in a World of Thunder,’ and ‘The Handmaiden.’

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Follow on Twitter: @Cherylrese Hash-Tag #BrokenVessels

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