Thursday, February 27, 2014

Pamela Samuels- Young Wins the NAACP Image Award for Anybody's Daughter

Anybody's Daughter
Donna had spent several years as a social worker, but now worked as an administrative assistant at St. Francis Hospital. Work, church and Brianna. That was her mother’s entire life. No man, no girlfriends, no fun.
Brianna wasn’t having any of that. She was gonna have a life, no matter how hard her mother tried to keep her on a short leash like a prized pet.
Donna finally walked over and gave her daughter a peck on the cheek, then repeated the same words she said every single morning: “You be careful.”
Brianna bolted through the front door and hurried down the street. As expected, no one was out yet. Her legs grew shaky as she scurried past Sydney’s house. Brianna had wanted to tell her BFF about hooking up with Jaden today, but he made her promise not to. Anyway, Sydney had the biggest mouth in the whole seventh grade. Brianna couldn’t afford to have her business in the street. She’d made Sydney swear on the Bible before telling her about Jaden.
As she neared the end of the block, she saw it. The burgundy Escalade with the tinted windows was parked behind Mario’s Fish Market just like Jaden had promised. Brianna was so excited her hands began to tremble. She was only a few feet away from the SUV when the driver’s door opened and a man climbed out.
“Hey, Brianna. I’m Clint, Jaden’s brother. He’s in the backseat.”
Brianna unconsciously took a step back. Jaden’s brother didn’t look anything like him. On his Facebook picture, Jaden had dark eyes, a narrow nose and could’ve passed for T.I.’s twin brother. This man was dark-skinned with a flat nose and crooked teeth. And there was no way he was nineteen. He had to be even older than her Uncle Dre, who was thirty-something.
Brianna bit her lip. Something unsettling tinkered in her gut, causing her senses to see-saw between fear and elation. But it was love, her love for Jaden, that won out. It didn’t matter what his brother looked like. They probably had different daddies.
She handed Clint her backpack and stooped to peer inside the back of the SUV.
At the same horrifying moment that Brianna realized that the man inside was not Jaden, Clint snatched her legs out from under her and shoved her inside the Escalade.
The man in the backseat grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her toward him. Brianna tumbled face-first into his lap, inhaling sweat and weed and piss.
“Owwwww! Get your hands offa me!” Brianna shouted, her arms and legs thrashing about like a drowning swimmer. “Where’s Jaden? Let me go!”
“Relax, baby.” The stinky man’s voice sounded old and husky. “Just calm down.”
“Let me go!” Brianna screamed.
She tried to pull away, but Stinky Man palmed the back of her head like a basketball, easily holding her in place. Clint reached between the front seats, snatched her arms behind her back and bound them with rope.
When Brianna heard the quiet revving of the engine and the door locks click into place, panic exploded from her ears. She violently kicked her feet, hoping to break the window. But each kick landed with a sharp thud that launched needles of pain back up her legs.
“Don’t touch me! Let me goooooo!”
The stinky man thrust a calloused hand down the back of her pants.
“Damn, girl,” he cackled. “I like this big old behind.”
“Cut it out, Leon,” Clint shouted. “I’ve told you before. Don’t mess with the merchandise.”
Clint reached into the backseat again and stabbed Brianna’s arm with a needle just above the elbow.
A flash of fire lit up her entire body and in seconds, her eyelids felt like two heavy windows being forced shut. She tried to scream, but the ringing in her ears drowned out all sound. When she blinked up at Stinky Man, he had two—no three—heads.
Brianna could feel the motion of the SUV pulling away from Mario’s Fish Market. She needed to do something. But her body was growing heavy and her head ached. The thick haze that cluttered her mind allowed only one desperate thought to seep through.
Mommy! Uncle Dre! Please help me!

The photo that just broke my heart....

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

What was the last book that made you say....



If so what book was it????

Monday, February 17, 2014

Meet Yejide Kilanko, author of Daughters Who Walk This Path

Meet Yejide Kilanko, author of Daughters Who Walk This Path  #daughterswwpp
About the Book

Spirited, intelligent Morayo grows up surrounded by school friends and a busy family in modern-day Ibadan, Nigeria. An adoring little sister, her traditional parents, and a host of aunties and cousins make Morayo’s home their own. So there’s nothing unusual about Morayo’s charming but troubled cousin, Bros T, moving in with the family. At first Morayo and her sister are delighted, but in her innocence, nothing prepares Morayo for the shameful secret Bros T forces upon her.
Thrust into a web of oppressive silence woven by the adults around her, Morayo must learn to fiercely protect herself and her sister; a legacy of silence many women in Morayo’s family share. Only Aunty Morenike—once protected by her own mother—provides Morayo with a safe home, and a sense of female community which sustains Morayo as she grows into a young woman in bustling, politically charged, often violent Nigeria.
Excerpt from Daughters Who Walk This Path
One evening, Daddy told us a folktale about a young man named Alao.
Daddy’s deep voice filled the room as he began: “Alo o,” he said.
“Alo!” Eniayo and I shouted back.  
“Oruku tindi tindi, oruku tindi tindi; My story rumbles, flys straight like an arrow and lands on the head of Alao. Alao was a handsome, hardworking young man. When he walked through the village, he made the young maidens giggle shyly behind their fingers. On the days that Alao went to the stream to take his bath, the maidens would line his path with their specially marked loofah sponges. They waited, each anxious for Alao to pick up their sponge as a sign of his interest. But to their dismay, Alao would walk by the sponges with his head held up high.”
Looking at each other with twinkling eyes, Eniayo and I giggled behind our palms. Pausing, Daddy smiled at us.
“One morning, Alao woke up to a terrible surprise. A sheep horn had grown right on top of his head! A panicked Alao ran, ran, and ran to the home of the village medicine man. The Abetiaja, long eared male cap, jammed tightly on his head, hid the hideous horn from view. The medicine man, Baba Oloogun, took one look at Alao’s head and shook his head. Baba Oloogun told Alao that there was only one remedy to the abomination growing on his head. That remedy was a potion made from the fresh excrement of an earthworm and the blood of a newborn flea. A desperate Alao searched high and low for the items but all his searches were in vain.  
“To the dismay of the village maidens, Alao no longer took his baths at the stream. Friends aksed why Alao no longer wanted to participate in the wrestling matches where he had excelled.
“But how could he? Alao wondered. What if his cap fell off his head during one of the wrestling matches?
“Finally, when he could no longer bear the heavy weight of his secret, he shared it with his best friend. For months, Alao’s friend kept the secret. However, as time passed by, keeping the secret became more and more difficult. In desperation, Alao’s friend ran into the forest at the edge of the village and whispered the secret into the hollow of a large Odan tree. Relieved, he quickly filled the hole with dead leaves and went back to the village.”
Eniayo and I shifted on our spots. The fading blue lights of the kerosene lamp left shadows on Daddy’s thin face.
“All was well until the day a great windstorm blew though the village. The powerful wind shook the trees vigorously until their heads bowed in submission. The dead leaves Alao’s friend had stuffed into the hollow of the Odan tree fell out, scattering in the wind. Alao’s secret rose amongst the tree branches, filling the pores of the broad leaves. The dancing leaves started chanting softy, Alao wu iwo, Alao wu iwo, Alao has a horn, Alao has a horn. Swift winds carrying the words blew them right over the village huts. Soon, the whole village knew Alao’s shocking secret.
“The adoring looks on the faces of the village maidens changed to looks of disgust. Who wanted a monster for a husband? Little children ran, hiding under their mother’s wrappers when Alao walked by. Only the gods could have cursed Alao, the villagers whispered in little groups that dispersed as soon as they saw him coming. One by one, his friends stopped coming to his hut to drink palm wine and to play the ayo game.  
“One day, the villagers woke up to find that Alao had packed up his belongings in the middle of the night and left. His footsteps led them straight to the edge of the river. His fishing canoe was gone. They never saw him again.”
When Daddy finished the story, we sat there quietly. Even Mummy’s knitting fingers stayed still for a while.
Eniayo suddenly spoke up. She looked puzzled: “Daddy?”
“Yes, Arewa.”
I watched my sister’s pale face as she searched for the questions. “Why…What does it mean?”
Daddy had once told us that folk stories were the mediums by which our ancestors taught life lessons. Now, as he smiled proudly at Eniayo,  I wished I had been the one to ask the question.
“The lesson,” he said, “is that if you don’t want everyone to know your secret, don’t share it with anyone.”

About the Author
Yejide Kilanko was born in Ibadan, a sprawling university city in south-western Nigeria. She read just about anything she could lay her hands on and that love for reading led her to poetry writing when she was twelve. After a big, loud, African wedding, she joined her husband in Maryland, USA. For a decade she stayed home to raise their three children, moved to Canada and went back to school to become a social worker.
Yejide started writing her debut novel, Daughters Who Walk This Path, in 2009. It was published by Penguin Canada April 2012 with subsequent publication in the United States, Germany and Thailand in 2013.Her second novel will be published by Penguin Canada, May 2014. Visit the author online at

Order This Book

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Forgive Me by Stacy Campbell

Tawatha has spent the last 5 years of her life in prison for killing 3 of her 4 children. She has been released on a technicality, and Royce is there for her transition back into society. He has offered her a home and comfort but can’t give her back the thing she wants, a relationship with her only surviving child Aunjanue.

James Fulton owns a successful chain of beauty salons, but is missing something from the past

Aruba Dixon’s husband’s death from a disease sends her to a dark place and is not able to come to terms with it, Her parents out of desperation, connect with her Ex for help.

Victoria Faulk has come through her divorce landing on her feet. Starting all over again, she meets Emory.
None can move from where they are unless they learn to forgive and be forgiven .

Simply Said Says;

I loved this book it had all the right pieces for a great story that will keep you connect to the characters. The story was a lesson in relationship dynamics that we can all learn from.

This great story makes you ask yourself how much are you willing to Forgive to move on?

5  Stars for Forgive Me

Stacy Campbell is an author born and raised in Sparta, Georgia. A graduate of Albany State University, Stacy was bitten by the writing bug after hearing her elderly relatives share family stories on her front porch.  Her work has been published by the Detroit Writers Guild, Indiana Writers at Home, and Georgia magazine.

 Her first novel, Dream Girl Awakened, was published in February 2013 under Strebor Books, a Simon and Schuster imprint.  Stacy’s subsequent novels, Forgive Me, and Wouldn’t Change a Thing, are also under the Strebor imprint and will be published in 2014 and 2015, respectively. 

When she’s not creating new characters or honing the writing craft, she’s most likely spending time with her family, trying out new recipes, or dining at new restaurants for dinner ideas.

Monday, February 3, 2014

The Joneses Book Tour

Are You Picking the Wrong Type?
By Guest Blogger Shelia M. Goss

How many times have you dated someone because you considered them to be “your type" based on preconceived notions?
Sometimes people get involved with “their type” and then the relationship doesn’t work. They again find another person with the same qualities they consider “their type” and end up in another dead end relationship.
Well if YOUR TYPE is not working out, maybe you need to change your criteria of what you’re looking for in a mate, because maybe “your type” isn’t working for you.
Women, if you only date men who are your same age or older,  you may be short changing yourself. The man for you might be a few years younger than you. What if the man for you is a “blue collar” worker instead of part of the “white collar” world? Shouldn’t him being a hard worker, making an honest living count for something? Do you only date men who are tall versus short? Your Mr. Right, might be in a smaller package.
Men, you say you don’t want a “gold-digger” but are you really looking beneath the surface or do you only want a showpiece? Most women are independent, so men are you able to deal with the whole woman? If you treat her right, she will allow you to be the “king” in her world.
One question to ponder - are people missing out on finding a good mate because they are too judgmental when it comes to looking for “their type?”

Shelia M. Goss is a national bestselling author and a screenwriter. The Joneses is her seventeenth book in print. She writes in multiple genres. USA Today says, “Goss has an easy, flowing style with her prose…” She's received many accolades in her career, including being a finalist in the mystery category for the 2013 AA Literary Award Show and a 2012 Emma Award Finalist. Her books have been on several best sellers lists, such as: Essence Magazine, Dallas Morning News and Black Expressions Book Club. Shelia loves to hear from readers so feel free to contact her via her website: or follow her on Facebook at or Twitter:


Keeping up with the Joneses isn’t all it’s made out to be. In this intriguing novel full of drama and plot twists, one family tries to hold on to their “perfect” life before their secrets, lies, and scandals are exposed.

On the outside, the Joneses seem like the ideal family: Royce Jones, a funeral home mogul, and his wife, Lexi, are parents to Charity, Hope, and Lovie—and everybody wants to be them. But it’s true that money can’t buy happiness, and the Joneses are harboring secrets that can’t stay hidden forever…It’s only a matter of time before the Joneses’ perfect life goes spinning out of control. 

Simply Said says;
Royce Jones owns RJ Jones Funeral Home and is the pillar of the community. When Boss Lady’s credit card is declined at the country club, Lexi Jones, finds out things are not as they seem and all credit cards have been frozen except the one Royce has. Their daughters Hope and Charity are caught up in a love triangle that they are two sides of; the other side is Tyler who has an agenda against The Jones. Their accountant/son Lovie Jones is doing dirty laundry with gang money. Watching the skeletons fall out of the closet and the drama unfold, Shelia Goss’s trademark twisted characters made this GREAT story.  Better than some reality TV I’ve seen! The characters and the plot are believable and the way she unfolds this story, has you drooling as you’re turning the page!
Loved this 5 star read! 

To read an excerpt, go to:

Order your copy of THE JONESES from Simon & Schuster or purchase from other online retailers such as:

Available in stores everywhere on February 18, 2014.


Lexi Jones, one of the main characters, from THE JONESES loves her handbags so it’s just befitting that the grand prize be a handbag.  Contest ends on February 25, 2014.

One (1) random entrant will receive a small Coach handbag {Retail value: $188.00, 10 3/4″(L) x 7″(H) x 3 1/4″(W)} and Bath & Body Works minatures (Retail value: $19.75)

One (1) random entrant will receive an autographed copy of Montana’s Way.

Ten (10) random entrants will receive the electronic version of the book Hollywood Deception.

Open to U.S. & Canada residents only. Avoid where prohibited by law.

To enter please use the rafflecopter form below.

Copy and paste code below for rafflecopter into your blog:

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