Sunday, December 7, 2014

Unbound Hearts: The Second Book of the "Able to Love" series

Chapter One 


He had better not be looking up my dress.
Charmaine Evans eyed the man who held her feet in his hands while she stood on his shoulders. Benson Harris turned his head in the opposite direction. She rolled her eyes. Good thing her nude colored bra and undies matched. “When I give the word, give me a push.”
She did not get an answer. He was looking up her dress.
Charmaine dug her feet into Benson’s broad shoulders. His muscles strained and he wobbled a bit struggling to maintain his grip but Charmaine didn’t care. “If you want your eyes, you’d better focus them somewhere else. Or you may feel the effects of a well-placed foot in your face.”
Benson shifted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m ready when you are.”
Charmaine forgave him. Her long legs were well toned from hours in the gym. She would be offended if he did not look. “Okay, on my count, get me over this fence. One … two …”
Benson gave her a hard shove, and Charmaine went airborne over the fence.
“Ahhhh!” Charmaine crash-landed through some azalea bushes onto spikey mulch. Like a cat, she sprang to her feet. “Benson, I didn’t say three! And now I’m all banged up! Throw me my shoes.”
Benson tossed her the flat-heeled shoes. He crawled over the fence and dropped next to her. “Sorry.” At six foot-three, Benson had been an officer in the navy before he retired at thirty-eight. He still maintained his strict workout regimen running four miles a day and he ran marathons for sport.
“Look at my knees.” Jagged lines and red welts marred her skin. The Inquisitor did not pay her enough for this mess. Okay, they did pay her enough—when she delivered a picture worthy enough to grace the front page.
Charmaine dusted mulch and dirt off her yellow Ann Taylor dress and jammed her feet into the gold flats. If she had known this morning, she would be jumping a fence she would have worn her jeans and a shirt. But when a tip came in, you jump on it. No time to run home and change.
Benson handed Charmaine her prized Nikon SLR 70 mm camera. Charmaine had paid serious money for it. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
They made their way across the lawn. Skulking in the shrubs, Charmaine held back her whoop of jubilation. They had done it. They had infiltrated NFL quarterback Jasper Orion’s stunning 11,000-square-foot brick home in Alpharetta, Georgia.
Showtime.
Her conscience pricked. This was trespassing. She was invading someone’s privacy. Just as quickly, Charmaine shoved away the thought. She was going to get that picture. Word was the NFL’s most outspoken Christian was shacked up with Amanda Moon, the model and girlfriend of Jasper’s best friend, Matthew Lands.
Social media buzzed. Everybody chatted it up and wanted to know how much of a hypocrite Jasper was. Charmaine’s picture would give them the answer—and add twenty-five thousand dollars to her piggy bank. Cha-Ching!
“They’re on the move!” Benson whispered. He pointed inside the house.
Charmaine scurried to the window, glad she had had bribed the gardener to secure Jasper’s Dobermans for the night. She released short rapid breaths as she and Benson scuttled around the back of the house.
“I can’t get a shot,” she moaned. Even though she was five-eleven, the privacy screens were a foot above her head.
Charmaine was not going to give up that easily. She moved to stand in front of Benson. “Put me on your shoulders again.”
Benson cupped his hands. Charmaine stepped into them and climbed up until she straddled his shoulders. Her dress was a hindrance. In a swift move, Charmaine yanked her Anne Taylor dress over her head. Whatever had possessed her to wear bright yellow was beyond her. Even though it was September, it was in the eighties. Thank God for beautiful Atlanta weather. She tossed her dress to the ground.
With expert precision, she peered into the lens. Charmaine scanned the living area taking in the crystals hanging from the chandelier. She noted the deep purple drapes, firelights and the orchids lining the wedding arch. Her mouth drooled at the two-tiered white wedding cake resplendent with silver beads and flowers taking center position on a large cherry wooden table. Charmaine snapped several pictures and wiggled with excitement.
“Keep still,” Benson said, gripping her legs.
Charmaine giggled. “We’re going to get paid.” Her eyes took in the blond head belonging to Jasper Orion. She wished she could have captured those stunning blue eyes of his up close.
Charmaine shrugged. The world knew his backside. They would know it was Jasper. She adjusted her lens and waited for him to turn around.
Amanda entered the room dressed in a chiffon white gown. The styling was deceptively simple, but Charmaine knew it had set the model back several thousand dollars. Her glorious dark hair, which had been featured in hair commercials, was pinned with cascading curls.
The couple hugged. Yes! Charmaine could see their faces. Here was her money shot.
Focus. Aim. Click.
Flash? Oh, goodness. When had she turned on the flash? Jasper and Amanda turned toward the window.
“We’ve been made!” Charmaine cried. “Let me down!”
Charmaine swung her legs behind Benson’s shoulders and slid down his back. She handed him her camera. “Run!”
Benson grabbed it and sprinted across the lawn.
“They’re on the move!” a voice yelled.
Jasper Orion!
Charmaine took off for the fence and saw Benson disappearing over the top. Instead of turning to assist her, the oaf left her behind. She turned her head and saw Jasper hot on her trail.
“Stop!” Jasper yelled.
Like a good reporter, Charmaine had studied the layout of Jasper’s immense property. She knew there was a patio on the side of his house overlooking the ravine. Think, Charmaine, think! Where was the patio? She closed her eyes to pull up a mental picture. Yes. She could see it. It was on her left. She executed a sharp turn and bolted in that direction.
As Charmaine ran across the lawn toward the trees, her brain registered a strange sound. Her eyes widened. Howls. She heard the distinct sound of howling. The dogs. Someone let the dogs out. She dodged around the trees, willing herself not to panic.
“She’s over there!”
With every ounce of athleticism she possessed, Charmaine made her way to the patio. She edged closer to the two-foot brick fence. Charmaine bent over to look into the darkness of the valley below and gulped. The distance to the ground had to be at least two hundred feet. Charmaine trembled. I hate heights!
“I think I see her!”
Charmaine hyperventilated. You have to do this, she told herself, battling the sudden urge to pee. When she heard heavy panting and several howling dogs behind her, Charmaine knew she had no choice. She gripped the brick fence, twisted her body and flipped over. Holding on tight, Charmaine dangled over the cliff. Her hands were cutting into the scaly brick chips. Charmaine considered her next move. There were shrubs and very tall trees a few feet behind her. If she jumped at an angle, she might land in one the trees and she could hide out until morning. As the voices drew closer, Charmaine knew what she had to do.
Taking a deep breath, she hurled her body toward the trees.

***


“She jumped!” Matt Lands yelled pointing to the patio. He raked his hands into his red curly hair, his eyes wide with disbelief. His once crisp white dress shirt hung over his pants, and he had popped several buttons.
Jasper Orion squinted and shoved past his burly friend. “She wouldn’t.” What would possess someone to jump over a ravine?
Jasper’s two Doberman Pinschers, Compass and Atlas, barked, baring their teeth. Jasper bent over to rub the dogs’ ears. “It’s all right, boys. You did well.”
He peered over the cliff.
Jasper cupped his mouth. “Are you down there?”
The men heard a distinct feminine shriek. “She’s in one of the trees,” Jasper said.
“Help me!” she screamed.
“She fell!” Matt’s eyes were wide with horror.
Amanda Moon raced to their sides. She had taken off her heels, and her feet were wet and muddied from the dirt and dew. Amanda held a flashlight, which she aimed toward the voice. Amanda’s green eyes widened and the men stared. Jasper saw a woman garbed in nude undies, tangled in a tree branch.
“Who are you?” Jasper asked. His eyes scanned her chocolate skin.
Matt gave a slight whistle before Amanda poked him in the chest.
“My name is Charmaine Evans,” she said. “I’m with The Inquisitor.”
Matt groaned. “A reporter. I should have known.” He shook his head.
“She’s not a real reporter,” Amanda said. “That’s a trash mag.”
“Paparazzi,” Jasper snarled. He looked at Matt and Amanda. “Sorry about this, guys. I didn’t mean to ruin your wed—”
Amanda placed a finger against her lips.
Jasper understood. The interloper was no doubt listening.
“Amanda, go call the cops.” Jasper crooked his head at Matt. “Let’s get this invader and bring her inside.”
Jasper made his way to the small fence. He saw the young woman huddled in the branches with her arms wrapped about her. He stretched a hand toward Charmaine. Matt held onto Jasper’s other hand to keep him stable. “Make your way to the edge of the branch and give me your hand.”
“I’m afraid,” she chattered. “I’m afraid of heights.”
Jasper scowled. “Then why on earth did you jump?” He did not bother to wait for an answer. Instead, he motioned at her with his fingers. “Let’s go. The police will be here any minute.”
“No, I can’t be on the news!” the woman shouted.
“Oh, but it’s all right for you to plaster my face all over your filthy paper.” Resentment filled him.
The young woman grabbed a branch and attempted to climb down.
Jasper swung an arm to grab her hand. He encountered thin air. “Matt hold my legs,” he said.
“Just leave her and let the cops handle it,” Matt said.
“She’ll freeze. The temps are already dropping,” Jasper said. He plunged over the fence and reached a hand out. “Charmaine, take my hand,” he yelled.
She shook her head. “I’ll fall.”
“I’ll catch you. Trust me,” Jasper said. He turned to face Matt. “Hold me.”
Matt nodded. Jasper inched over the cliff so his upper body hung off the cliff. He felt two large hands clamp his legs.
Charmaine held out both of her hands. In a powerful motion, Jasper scooped her in his arms. He heard Matt grunt behind him.
“Hold on, Matt,” Jasper said from between clenched teeth. It took serious strength but Jasper flipped Charmaine onto his back.
Charmaine bucked her body against him. His mind registered muscle and a well-toned body.
“Help!” Charmaine screamed.
Jasper recognized her fear. “You’re not going to fall. Calm down.” He heard Matt yelling the same thing but Charmaine was a mean fight. He was getting scratched and kicked in places he could not mention. She was in full panic mode.
“Grab her, Matt!” Jasper screamed.
Matt released his grip on one leg to snatch Charmaine off him. Jasper twisted, hoping to rely on his upper body strength to grab the fence. But Matt’s grip slipped and gravity worked against him.
Jasper felt his body arch backwards, almost in slow motion. At that moment, Jasper knew his fall was inevitable.
He saw Matt skid to the ground. He flung a hand Jasper’s way. “Jasper!”
Jasper grabbed at air. His arms flailed backwards. He hunched his body preparing for impact.
“No!” Matt screamed. “Jasper!”
Jasper’s body bent further backwards.
“Jeeeeessssusssss!” Jasper screamed as he flipped over the precipice.

(C) Copyright 2014 by Michelle Lindo-Rice, All Rights Reserved.


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Saturday, December 6, 2014

Autumn's Child Book Tour with Nicole Murray


About The Book

"I am hurting. Fractured in places stitches can't heal." Autumn’s Child tells the desperate story of Layla, as a young and naive twelve year-old girl. Over ten critical years, her life quickly changes like the colors of the trees in autumn. The accidental death of her parents forces her to abandon her religious, middle-class lifestyle. She moves to the inner city of Chicago with her grandmother and aunt, her only living relatives. Layla tries to approach her new life with optimism, but the perfections of her past life haunt her tormented journey. After coming to grips with the reality over the years that her only aunt despises her, Layla soon discovers that she may secretly hold the keys to helping her aunt’s diminishing health in her hands. Layla’s faith and sanity are continuously tested as she matures throughout each season of her life. She stumbles through her new found reality while learning how to play the distinct set of cards she’s been dealt. Layla’s neighbor and best friend, Shay, helps guide her from adolescence into adulthood. Autumn’s Child chronicles a life on the opposite side of the coin; where friendships grow out of tragedy, and the pressure of a marginalized life weighs heavily on pure souls. Layla must make many compromising decisions, all while perpetually asking the reader, What would you do?
About The Author

L. Nicole Murray is a creative writer by passion, training, and profession. She is a Columbia College graduate with a degree in Fiction Writing and Marketing. Nicole’s dual Gemini personality helps her pursue creative writing as a personal profession. Nicole explores the creative landscape of the mind to craft fiction out of real emotion. She currently writes short stories, novels, poems, and screen plays. Autumn’s Child is her first novel.

Book Excerpt-Chapter One
The walls are not white to give off the feeling of security so needed in a place such as this. Instead, they are yellow, the faded color of perfection. But Dr. Patel is my savior now, the one that will fish me out of this sea, the lifeguard that jumps in when you’re already half dead, my shrink, or, as some would say, my therapist. It’s interesting how truthful you can be with a total stranger, but it is so easy to lie to yourself for years.
“Have you ever had something that you gave away so easily stolen from you?” I ask, as hidden truths regurgitate from my mouth like a sinner ready to give his life to the Lord.
“Slow down Layla. What are you referring to?” she asks in a yoga instructor’s tone.
“Okay, not that. Let’s start with my shitty failures or maybe my abandonment.” I take a deep breath in as the ticking of the clock calculates my lifeline.
“Would you like for me to call you Layla or LaLa?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Okay, Layla. We are not going to start with your abandonment. We are going to start from the beginning. Think back.”
~~~~
So I drift back to eleven years ago, to my truth as I remember it. My mom woke me up. She was happy as usual, singing her Saturday morning song, which was uplifting, and annoying, but routine. “Rise and shine and give God the Glory, Glory. Rise and shine and give God the Glory, Glory.” Her tune replayed, louder and louder, over and over until I realized it was not a dream and, yes, my mother was really that happy every morning at 7:30 a.m. I woke up to the smell of pancakes, peaches, and lavender Lysol disinfectant spray. Those scents were my only true inspirations to wake up with a smile on my face. I remember her as some kind of Betty Crocker mom, one of those perfect mothers that just happened to be in a great mood all the time. She would wake up every morning at 5 a.m., read whatever portion of the Bible she had assigned me that day, cook breakfast, wake my father up, and then nudge me out of bed. Our home was a large framed house with a big enough back yard, since I was an only child. But most things seemed big then considering that the Lord of Host probably came by to pay my parents a personal visit from time to time. You know, with him being the topic of every conversation. Let me put it like this: I knew the names of every book of the Bible in order, New Testament and Old, before I knew how to spell my own name. But that didn’t bother me. I grew accustomed to it. It was the only life I knew at the time and the only life I still crave now, but that was years ago when the weather was never that bad in Pleasanton, California, always 75 degrees with a 40 percent chance of rain.
On this particular day there were no Bible scriptures to memorize, no church picnic. It was my day, the day my parents finally agreed to allow me to go to my best friend from school’s birthday party by myself, unattended by her, or him, or Jesus. Just me, my friends and cake. I hurried to the kitchen table to see my daddy’s wide smile, “There’s my pretty song. Good morning butterscotch. How you feelin’ this morning?”
“Well. How are you?”
“Blessed and highly favored,” he replied, as usual, in scripture form. In the mornings, my mom was always busy getting ready for the day, so breakfast was typically one-on-one time for my daddy and me. We both dug into our pancakes and my mom’s heaven eggs when he asked as expected, “You’re going to be my little good girl today, right?”
“But of course,” I looked up and gave him my most convincing smile.
“I know you will.”
We both finished our food and I excused myself from the table to get ready. I put on my long blue jean shorts and ‘love is’ embroidered T-shirt. We both dashed out the house and drove down Driftwood Boulevard until we reached my best friend Sara MacNair’s house.
I remember singing my heart out the entire way. Choir rehearsal was immediately after the party and I was planning to audition for a lead in the junior’s. I practiced, imitating my mom’s beautiful voice. I wanted to show everyone that I could not only have the lead in the kid’s choir, but I might also be ready to join the teen choir even though I was slightly shy of thirteen.”
“If anybody ask you,” I sang and my mother followed with perfect back harmony, “Anybody ask you.”
“Where I’m going.”
“Where I’m going.”
“Sooooon, I’m going up e yonder to be with my Lord ord ord.” I just sang and sang until I opened my eyes and I saw her watching me through the rearview mirror at a stoplight.
“That’s some voice you got girl. Where did you get that voice from?” she giggled proudly.
“You.”
“Naw, baby girl, you got that voice from the Lord. Keep singing like that, they’re going to put you in the adult choir. You’ll be singing with your mama. I can’t wait to see you on stage at auditions tonight. I want you to do it just like that. Sing from your diaphragm, you remember, the bottom of your soul where Jesus lives and let it all come out.”
“Yes, Mama.”
We were nearing the corner of Sara’s house when she turned around to say,
“Now I talked to Ms. MacNair and she promised me she was going to keep a special eye on you. I’ll be back to pick you up later. I can’t be with you today. Got a lot of errands to run before the church picnic next week.”
“Yes Mama.”
“I know you’re a good girl, but you know not everyone’s like us. Not everyone has found Jesus yet, but it’s our job to help them. You understand? So if they’re playing that worldly music you just sit back in the corner and pray for their souls. But for no reason are you allowed to dance to those devil songs, you hear me?”
“Yes, Mama,” I said. I knew this speech in my sleep. It had been inculcated in my brain since conception.
“Now what’s our scripture of the day?” she asked looking back into the rear view mirror, “Stop biting your nails.”
“You didn’t give me one today.”
“Well, what’s the one from yesterday?”
“John 3:17. ‘God sent not his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved,’” I rambled off as easily as the Pledge of Allegiance.
“That’s my girl. You remember that. You’re a child of God, too, you know.”
My mom walked to the door of the sinful house and before entering she turned around and asked, “You nervous?” But it was she who was nervous about not being there to bodyguard me from any demonic force that could possibly cause a distraction from her will. To oblige her I said, “Yeah, I’m kind of nervous, but it’s okay. I have the shield of righteousness.” I knew she would like that. She always loved it when I spoke her language. Her smile shined down on me on their doorstep and I looked up to her in more than one way. Looking back, she was beautiful that June day. God’s third eye, the sun, articulated her skin making it manifest into the color of Shea butter intertwined with honey. Smooth, sweet, and beautiful she was and that face is what’s tattooed on my inner eyelids as we speak.
We walked into their finely decorated townhouse as my mother scanned the rooms quietly as if searching for Satan lurking in a corner. Everyone had been out back in the yard grilling hot dogs and burgers, all the foods that a sixth grade birthday party should have. My mother walked over to Ms. MacNair by the grill who smiled at my mother the way the Gentiles would have smiled at Jesus: cocky, but fearful. Sara waved me over towards her and my mother tapped my arm, “Not without my hug,” she said.
I remember feeling embarrassed to hug her, timid with all eyes on me, so I reached up, patted twice on her back, and attempt to let go, but she was glued to me, held me tightly like it was the first time. Finally her grip loosened and she whispered in my ear before fully letting go, “You sure you don’t want me to stay?”
“You can go now, Mama.”
“Remember what we talked about. I’m going on a few errand runs and to pick your father up. We’ll be back a little later.” She then leaned in closer and whispered, “If you want me to pick you up earlier just leave a message on the house phone, K?”
I shook my head and finally headed towards my friends playing Twister as the food cooked. My mother loitered around making idle conversation with Ms. MacNair.
I was on the mat, two legs on red and one hand on yellow, when Tiffany pointed toward the back door and asked confusedly, “Your mom’s leaving?” I bent my head down and looked between my legs. There she was, upside-down and walking out the door. The girls glared over at me as if my Siamese twin detached herself miraculously right before their eyes, like we were playing some kind of stunt that we had practiced the day before. I looked at all of them. Amber was picking her nose, searching for her next appetizer. Tiffany’s cheeks scrunched as she watched, making her glasses wobble slightly on her thin nose. Rebecca just stood there waiting for Tiffany to say something of value that she could co-sign with a laugh. Then I looked over to Sara and took off running through the backyard and up the stairs with Ms. MacNair yelling after me.
“What did you girls do to her?” she screeched over her shoulders to my friends. I was out the door by then and luckily my mom was still in the driveway when I knocked on the car window. She looked up and opened the door quickly as if a mugger was chasing me.
Her dark eyes brightened as I crawled into the sweaty leather backseat of her pearly white BMW. I grabbed the Little Mermaid wrapped box and ran out the car. “Thanks, Mom,” I yelled behind me with a self-assured arrogance.
“Alright princess. You be good.”
Almost back at the front door, I heard her voice again, “LaLa come here for a second.” I kept walking. “LaLa.”
I turned around. What could she want now? “We forgot to put a bow on the box.” Sitting sideways in the driver’s seat, her long gold summer dress still accenting her curvy mom’s figure, she twisted around and got a plastic grocery bag off of the floor on the passenger’s side. She told me to turn around and took something out of the bag, placed both her hands behind her back, and said, “If you sing our song, I’ll let you pick a hand.” I started singing. I already knew what it was; I was at the store when she bought it.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” And I held the last note a second longer because I knew she liked that.
I pointed to her right hand as she bit her bottom lip and smiled that sunshine smile again. She handed over a big bag of purple Skittles. I could not believe she gave me the whole bag. “Share with your friends.”

I grinned the entire way back to the house and this time I saw her drive away. But, you know, what I remember most about the walk back was her pearls. Those beautiful pearls with a cluster of diamonds, in the middle, centered above her heart. I hardly ever saw her without them. My daddy use to call her his ‘little pearl girl.’ My mother always said, “Only a real lady can wear pearls.” I just guessed I wasn’t a real lady yet because I could only wear plastic or fake jewelry. But those damn pearls, you know, they made her skin look new, pure like she was my age. When I think about her in those pearls they make me think that there is something perfect in the world, outside of the oysters and blood diamonds, that somewhere, maybe here or there, something or someone is perfect.

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Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Amazon Gift Card GIVEAWAY for God Has Spoken

ANNOUNCING God Has Spoken by Theresa A. Campbell

GIVEAWAY: Win a $25 Amazon gift card.

Here's how to enter: 
Leave a review online of God Has Spoken at Goodreads and/or Amazon to be entered.
Contests ends: DECEMBER 14th at 11:59 p.m.

About the Book



HOW HARD IS IT TO FORGIVE?
After finding the biological mother who abandoned her as a baby, learning the identity of her birth father and her biological brother, Dupree is left distraught and betrayed. Like a volcano about to erupt, she vows to have nothing to do with her newly discovered family--so help her God! However, if Dupree's mother, Tiny, has anything to say about it, Dupree won't be able to keep that vow. 

How does a former teenaged runaway become a wealthy, sophisticated business executive? Tiny's quest for happiness and independence in Kingston, Jamaica, has taken her on a life-altering journey through hell. After a vicious attack and a serious sickness that leaves her fighting for her life in the hospital, Tiny prays for death . . . but then God speaks. Will she listen to His voice? What exactly is He saying?


Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Crossreads presents Love Brings Us Home

Love Brings Us Home
7-Book Boxed Set
only 99cents!
By Hallee Bridgeman, Valerie Comer, JoAnn Durgin, Kimberly Rae Jordan, Lynette Sowell, Staci Stallings, and Debra Ullrick
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About the Book

Seven sweet stories celebrating love and home in one amazing, limited time collection!
Greater Than Rubies by Hallee Bridgeman: Antonio Viscolli asked and Robin Bartlett said "yes!" Soon, she will say "I do." Or will Boston's "Royal Wedding" leave someone standing at the altar? Raspberries and Vinegar by Valerie Comer: Josephine Shaw, a feisty environmentalist and local-food advocate, falls for Zachary Nemesek, the junk-food-loving reluctant farmer next door. Awakening by JoAnn Durgin: When Lexa Clarke tumbles from the top beam of a house and straight into the arms of TeamWork Missions Director Sam Lewis, Sam suspects his life will never be the same. Home is Where the Heart Is by Kimberly Rae Jordan: Free spirit Violet Collingsworth never expected to return home to live. But when she goes back to attend her grandmother’s funeral, she meets the sheriff and begins to reconsider. Wildfire Wedding by Lynette Sowell: During the height of Texas wildfire season, Krista and Luke prepare for their wedding while battling past guilt and future fears, when a fire breaks out, threatening the town. Cowboy by Staci Stallings: To all the world, Ashton Raines has it all: fame, money, and the adoration of millions of fans. Then one night he walks away from it all. Can down-on-her-luck waitress, Beth, let God work through her to lead Ashton back to hope and faith? Reunited at Christmas by Debra Ullrick: Shelby Davis thought she’d never again see the ex-fiancé who dumped her. Then Ryker Anderson gets lost in a blizzard, and she’s on the snowmobile search and rescue team. Now what? The Authors of "Love Brings Us Home"
Hallee
Hallee Bridgeman
Greater Than Rubies
Valerie
Valerie Comer
Raspberries & Vinegar
JoAnn
JoAnn Durgin
Awakening
Kimberly
Kimberly Rae Jordan
Home is Where the Heart Is
 
Lynette
Lynette Sowell
Wildfire Wedding
Staci Stallings New Headshot 1
Staci Stallings
Cowboy
Debra Ullrick
Debra Ullrick
Reunited at Christmas
 Follow The Authors at the Links
with their pictures!
 

Enter to Win a $50 Amazon Gift Card!

Enter below to enter a $50 Amazon gift card, sponsored by author Sophie Dawson! a Rafflecopter giveaway This book blast is hosted by Crossreads. We would like to send out a special THANK YOU to all of the CrossReads book blast bloggers!

Monday, December 1, 2014

Unbound Hearts: Sample Chapters


Chapter One

He had better not be looking up my dress.
Charmaine Evans eyed the man who held her feet in his hands while she stood on his shoulders. Benson Harris turned his head in the opposite direction. She rolled her eyes. Good thing her nude colored bra and undies matched. “When I give the word, give me a push.”
She did not get an answer. He was looking up her dress.
Charmaine dug her feet into Benson’s broad shoulders. His muscles strained and he wobbled a bit struggling to maintain his grip but Charmaine didn’t care. “If you want your eyes, you’d better focus them somewhere else. Or you may feel the effects of a well-placed foot in your face.”
Benson shifted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m ready when you are.”
Charmaine forgave him. Her long legs were well toned from hours in the gym. She would be offended if he did not look. “Okay, on my count, get me over this fence. One … two …”
Benson gave her a hard shove, and Charmaine went airborne over the fence.
“Ahhhh!” Charmaine crash-landed through some azalea bushes onto spikey mulch. Like a cat, she sprang to her feet. “Benson, I didn’t say three! And now I’m all banged up! Throw me my shoes.”
Benson tossed her the flat-heeled shoes. He crawled over the fence and dropped next to her. “Sorry.” At six foot-three, Benson had been an officer in the navy before he retired at thirty-eight. He still maintained his strict workout regimen running four miles a day and he ran marathons for sport.
“Look at my knees.” Jagged lines and red welts marred her skin. The Inquisitor did not pay her enough for this mess. Okay, they did pay her enough—when she delivered a picture worthy enough to grace the front page.
Charmaine dusted mulch and dirt off her yellow Ann Taylor dress and jammed her feet into the gold flats. If she had known this morning, she would be jumping a fence she would have worn her jeans and a shirt. But when a tip came in, you jump on it. No time to run home and change.
Benson handed Charmaine her prized Nikon SLR 70 mm camera. Charmaine had paid serious money for it. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
They made their way across the lawn. Skulking in the shrubs, Charmaine held back her whoop of jubilation. They had done it. They had infiltrated NFL quarterback Jasper Orion’s stunning 11,000-square-foot brick home in Alpharetta, Georgia.
Showtime.
Her conscience pricked. This was trespassing. She was invading someone’s privacy. Just as quickly, Charmaine shoved away the thought. She was going to get that picture. Word was the NFL’s most outspoken Christian was shacked up with Amanda Moon, the model and girlfriend of Jasper’s best friend, Matthew Lands.
Social media buzzed. Everybody chatted it up and wanted to know how much of a hypocrite Jasper was. Charmaine’s picture would give them the answer—and add twenty-five thousand dollars to her piggy bank. Cha-Ching!
“They’re on the move!” Benson whispered. He pointed inside the house.
Charmaine scurried to the window, glad she had bribed the gardener to secure Jasper’s Dobermans for the night. She released short rapid breaths as she and Benson scuttled around the back of the house.
“I can’t get a shot,” she moaned. Even though she was five-eleven, the privacy screens were a foot above her head.
Charmaine was not going to give up that easily. She moved to stand in front of Benson. “Put me on your shoulders again.”
Benson cupped his hands. Charmaine stepped into them and climbed up until she straddled his shoulders. Her dress was a hindrance. In a swift move, Charmaine yanked her Anne Taylor dress over her head. Whatever had possessed her to wear bright yellow was beyond her. Even though it was September, it was in the eighties. Thank God for beautiful Atlanta weather. She tossed her dress to the ground.
With expert precision, she peered into the lens. Charmaine scanned the living area taking in the crystals hanging from the chandelier. She noted the deep purple drapes, firelights and the orchids lining the wedding arch. Her mouth drooled at the two-tiered white wedding cake resplendent with silver beads and flowers taking center position on a large cherry wooden table. Charmaine snapped several pictures and wiggled with excitement.
“Keep still,” Benson said, gripping her legs.
Charmaine giggled. “We’re going to get paid.” Her eyes took in the blond head belonging to Jasper Orion. She wished she could have captured those stunning blue eyes of his up close.
Charmaine shrugged. The world knew his backside. They would know it was Jasper. She adjusted her lens and waited for him to turn around.
Amanda entered the room dressed in a white chiffon gown. The styling was deceptively simple, but Charmaine knew it had set the model back several thousand dollars. Her glorious dark hair, which had been featured in hair commercials, was pinned up with cascading curls.
The couple hugged. Yes! Charmaine could see their faces. Here was her money shot.
Focus. Aim. Click.
Flash? Oh, goodness. When had she turned on the flash? Jasper and Amanda turned toward the window.
“We’ve been made!” Charmaine cried. “Let me down!”
Charmaine swung her legs behind Benson’s shoulders and slid down his back. She handed him her camera. “Run!”
Benson grabbed it and sprinted across the lawn.
“They’re on the move!” a voice yelled.
Jasper Orion!
Charmaine took off for the fence and saw Benson disappearing over the top. Instead of turning to assist her, the oaf left her behind. She turned her head and saw Jasper hot on her trail.
“Stop!” Jasper yelled.
Like a good reporter, Charmaine had studied the layout of Jasper’s immense property. She knew there was a patio on the side of his house overlooking the ravine. Think, Charmaine, think! Where was the patio? She closed her eyes to pull up a mental picture. Yes. She could see it. It was on her left. She executed a sharp turn and bolted in that direction.
As Charmaine ran across the lawn toward the trees, her brain registered a strange sound. Her eyes widened. Howls. She heard the distinct sound of howling. The dogs. Someone let the dogs out. She dodged around the trees, willing herself not to panic.
“She’s over there!”
With every ounce of athleticism she possessed, Charmaine made her way to the patio. She edged closer to the two-foot brick fence. Charmaine bent over to look into the darkness of the valley below and gulped. The distance to the ground had to be at least two hundred feet. Charmaine trembled. I hate heights!
“I think I see her!”
Charmaine hyperventilated. You have to do this, she told herself, battling the sudden urge to pee. When she heard heavy panting and several howling dogs behind her, Charmaine knew she had no choice. She gripped the brick fence, twisted her body and flipped over. Holding on tight, Charmaine dangled over the cliff. Her hands were cutting into the scaly brick chips. Charmaine considered her next move. There were shrubs and very tall trees a few feet behind her. If she jumped at an angle, she might land in one the trees and she could hide out until morning. As the voices drew closer, Charmaine knew what she had to do.
Taking a deep breath, she hurled her body toward the trees.
***
“She jumped!” Matt Lands yelled pointing to the patio. He raked his hands into his red curly hair, his eyes wide with disbelief. His once crisp white dress shirt hung over his pants, and he had popped several buttons.
Jasper Orion squinted and shoved past his burly friend. “She wouldn’t.” What would possess someone to jump over a ravine?
Jasper’s two Doberman Pinschers, Compass and Atlas, barked, baring their teeth. Jasper bent over to rub the dogs’ ears. “It’s all right, boys. You did well.”
He peered over the cliff.
Jasper cupped his mouth. “Are you down there?”
The men heard a distinct feminine shriek. “She’s in one of the trees,” Jasper said.
“Help me!” she screamed.
“She fell!” Matt’s eyes were wide with horror.
Amanda Moon raced to their sides. She had taken off her heels. Her feet were wet and muddied from the dirt and dew. Amanda held a flashlight, which she aimed toward the voice. Amanda’s green eyes widened and the men stared. Jasper saw a woman garbed in nude undies, tangled in a tree branch.
“Who are you?” Jasper asked. His eyes scanned her chocolate skin.
Matt gave a slight whistle before Amanda poked him in the chest.
“My name is Charmaine Evans,” she said. “I’m with The Inquisitor.”
Matt groaned. “A reporter. I should have known.” He shook his head.
“She’s not a real reporter,” Amanda said. “That’s a trash mag.”
“Paparazzi,” Jasper snarled. He looked at Matt and Amanda. “Sorry about this, guys. I didn’t mean to ruin your wed—”
Amanda placed a finger against her lips.
Jasper understood. The interloper was no doubt listening.
“Amanda, go call the cops.” Jasper crooked his head at Matt. “Let’s get this invader and bring her inside.”
Jasper made his way to the small fence. He saw the young woman huddled in the branches with her arms wrapped about her. He stretched a hand toward Charmaine. Matt held onto Jasper’s other hand to keep him stable. “Make your way to the edge of the branch and give me your hand.”
“I’m afraid,” she chattered. “I’m afraid of heights.”
Jasper scowled. “Then why on earth did you jump?” He did not bother to wait for an answer. Instead, he motioned at her with his fingers. “Let’s go. The police will be here any minute.”
“No, I can’t be on the news!” the woman shouted.
“Oh, but it’s all right for you to plaster my face all over your filthy paper.” Resentment filled him.
The young woman grabbed a branch and attempted to climb down.
Jasper swung an arm to grab her hand. He encountered thin air. “Matt hold my legs,” he said.
“Just leave her and let the cops handle it,” Matt said.
“She’ll freeze. The temps are already dropping,” Jasper said. He plunged over the fence and reached a hand out. “Charmaine, take my hand,” he yelled.
She shook her head. “I’ll fall.”
“I’ll catch you. Trust me,” Jasper said. He turned to face Matt. “Hold me.”
Matt nodded. Jasper inched over the cliff so his upper body hung off the cliff. He felt two large hands clamp his legs.
Charmaine held out both of her hands. In a powerful motion, Jasper scooped her in his arms. He heard Matt grunt behind him.
“Hold on, Matt,” Jasper said from between clenched teeth. It took serious strength but Jasper flipped Charmaine onto his back.
Charmaine bucked her body against him. His mind registered muscle and a well-toned body.
“Help!” Charmaine screamed.
Jasper recognized her fear. “You’re not going to fall. Calm down.” He heard Matt yelling the same thing but Charmaine was a mean fight. He was getting scratched and kicked in places he could not mention. She was in full panic mode.
“Grab her, Matt!” Jasper screamed.
Matt released his grip on one leg to snatch Charmaine off him. Jasper twisted, hoping to rely on his upper body strength to grab the fence. But Matt’s grip slipped and gravity worked against him.
Jasper felt his body arch backwards, almost in slow motion. At that moment, Jasper knew his fall was inevitable.
He saw Matt skid to the ground. He flung a hand Jasper’s way. “Jasper!”
Jasper grabbed at air. His arms flailed backwards. He hunched his body preparing for impact.
“No!” Matt screamed. “Jasper!”
Jasper’s body bent further backwards.
“Jeeeeessssusssss!” Jasper screamed as he flipped over the precipice.
 

Chapter Two

One year later…

“You can’t be a hermit for the rest of your life,” Lea Evans said. “You must show your face to the world. Persia has been calling you. Take her up on her offer to go out.”
Standing in the foyer of her mother’s home, Charmaine looked into a face much like her own. Her mom was an inch shorter than she was and with her buzz cut, Lea looked ten years younger than her forty-nine years.
“Mom, everywhere I go I’ve been recognized,” Charmaine said. “I’m not ready to see Persia, yet.”
Lea’s brown eyes softened. “She’s been your friend since the sixth grade. Persia called me. She is heartbroken. Call her.”
Charmaine wrinkled her nose. Persia Brooks-Sanders was perfect. Like Charmaine, Persia grew up in the church. Unlike Charmaine, Persia stayed in the church. Now Persia was married to the perfect husband and had the perfect child. Charmaine was far from perfect. She was not ready to see Persia’s judgmental eyes.
“The world hates this face.” She swooped her shoulder-length hair out of her face and pulled on both her cheeks. “This is the face of the woman who destroyed America’s darling. I’ve been too busy job hunting to call Persia. Not even McDonald’s hired me.”
Following the Jasper catastrophe, The Inquisitor had fired her. “We don’t sanction such egregious interloping into someone’s personal life,” they reprimanded. She stomped to her car.
Of course, it was a mere ‘coincidence’ that the paper posted the picture of Matt and Amanda’s secret wedding ceremony at Jasper’s house. Benson charged a huge fee of thirty thousand dollars.
And how much of that did she receive? Not even a dime.
At the time, Charmaine had not cared. She focused her energies, her savings, and her mother’s life savings on her defense. She hired the best, and he served her well.
Charmaine was free, broke, and dejected with no place to go but home to Port Charlotte, Florida.
“Quit exaggerating. You’re such a drama queen.” Lea waved a hand. “A year is like a lifetime nowadays. You won’t be recognized.”
Charmaine faced her mother. “Tell that to Monica Lewinsky. She hasn’t been seen since the whole Clinton fiasco.” Charmaine slumped. “Now I know why.”
Lea shook her head. “That’s not true. Wasn’t she selling handbags or something?”
Charmaine raised her eyebrows. “Exactly. Her future was over.”
Lea tapped Charmaine’s nose. “You were called for a job interview. You’re going.”
“I can’t,” Charmaine whined. “The minute they see me, I’ll be shown the door.” Tears spiked her lashes. “I can’t say that I blame them.”
Lea hugged her close. Charmaine rested her head on her mother’s shoulders, treasuring the comfort.
“You didn’t mean for it to happen, honey,” Lea said. “It was an accident. God has forgiven you. You have to forgive yourself.” Lea rubbed Charmaine’s back.
“I don’t deserve forgiveness. Jasper Orion lost his career and both his legs because of me.”
Even though twelve months had passed, Charmaine sobbed as if it were yesterday. She could see Jasper’s wide eyes, his mouth agape as his scream died on his lips. He fell two hundred feet to the ground and then rolled until his body slammed into the brush.
“Nooooo!” Charmaine held her head and wailed.
“Jasper!” Matt yelled. “Jasper!” He dug into his pants for a cell phone. Charmaine barely registered the 911 call. Her gaze remained focused on Jasper’s lifeless form. His legs were contorted like a pretzel.
Charmaine remembered Amanda running out and hearing the model’s horrified yell. Amanda then grabbed onto Matt to keep him from trying to jump to the tree to help Jasper. “No, Matt, don’t do it. You won’t make the tree. Help is on the way.”
Charmaine slunk to the ground, holding on to the brick fence, but kept her eyes riveted on Jasper willing him to move.
Then Charmaine saw Jasper’s body twitch. “He’s alive! He’s alive!” she yelled before convulsing to the ground with relief.
In a matter of minutes, a helicopter with a rescue team arrived. Charmaine watched as Jasper’s body was carefully lifted and placed inside the helicopter. Someone threw a blanket over her shoulders and tended to her cuts and scrapes before she was handcuffed for trespassing.
“Where are they taking him?” she asked her arresting officer, but she was ignored and flung into the back of the police car.
Charmaine sobbed so much her face hurt.
She looked outside the window to see Matt racing towards her. Several officers formed a ring around Matt to keep him from getting to her. From his hold, Matt yelled, “You’ll pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.”
Charmaine’s body shuddered. That was the last she saw or heard from Jasper Orion. Matt Lands blocked every attempt she made to see Jasper and apologize. Jasper spent four months in the hospital and refused all interviews. She learned he had had to have both legs amputated below the knee. Other than that, Jasper had retreated from the public eye.
Lea held Charmaine by the shoulders and gave her a light shake bringing Charmaine back to the present. “Snap out of it. Reliving that moment is not what God wants you to do. Jasper is alive. God has a hand in everything. All things will work out for our good. You just wait and see. Now wipe your face. Go get that job.”
Charmaine pulled out of her mother’s arms and made her way across the tiled floor to slip on shoes she had left by the front door. Lea’s perpetual optimism was too much sometimes. She ate, lived, and breathed God. What purpose would God have for letting someone lose his legs?
“I guess I’d better be going. Can’t be late.” She sighed.
Cosmic Therapy had been the only respondent to her numerous job applications. Since her arrest, conviction for trespassing and subsequent probation, Charmaine had tried to find normal again. But, she was a social pariah. She could not go grocery shopping without someone pointing a finger at her.
She had been the butt of jokes by late-night talk show hosts. NFL commentators and Jasper’s teammates had ridiculed her. She was “Charmaine the Pain,” “Charmaine the Vain,” and her favorite, “Charmaine the Criminally Insane.” Saturday Night Live devoted a skit just for her. Everyone knew her name, and she hated it.
Charmaine exited the house, hating that she was in Florida. It was in the upper nineties, which in her opinion was ridiculous for the month of September. She kicked at a pebble. Ouch! She had kicked a bit too hard. Charmaine hobbled her way to her mother’s car.
She shook her head. She was a twenty-seven-year-old college graduate living at home with her mama. Never mind that her mother’s three-bedroom house was in the New York section of Charlotte County. Charmaine looked at her watch. She started the 1993 Kia Sephia and put the car in gear.
She wiped a tear. When she graduated, she had promised her mother the world. She had a vision. Journalism. Faith-based books. T.V. show. In that order. But somewhere competition and money took her off track. Charmaine had dropped her scruples and her God.
Recalling all that, Charmaine cringed. She could not stand to look at herself. Her mother touted how God forgave, but Charmaine could not forgive herself. Her selfishness had been too much.
Charmaine straightened. She knew two things. She was going to pay her mother back. Every dime. And she was not leaving Cosmic Therapy without a job. Any job.

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(C) 2014 by Michelle Lindo-Rice. All rights reserved.