by Alicia Coston
The Bible or the bullet?
Pastor Quincy Wallace is a man of the cloth and a man of many secrets. When his beautiful and successful wife, Lavender, discovers his affairs with different men, she takes matters into her own hands with the help of a mysterious contract killer named The Magician. Lavender plans to get rid of each of her husband’s lovers and then frame her husband for the murders.
Everything seems to be going smoothly until Lavender finds herself falling for sexy Detective Tai Exavier, the same person investigating the disturbing case of the missing men. Not to mention her teenaged son, Jalen, begins to have suspicions about the father he’s looked up to for years. Will Lavender’s scheme give her the revenge she seeks, or will her road to redemption hit a life-changing dead end?
Excerpt: The Men Who Sleep With My Husband by Alicia Coston
When I saw Deacon Gray fumbling with my husband’s zipper in the pulpit, I knew he wasn’t kneeling before him in prayer. There is one quintessential moment in a woman’s life when she realizes she never really wanted the proof that could support her intuition. Except this time, my intuition didn’t give me fair warning. The dinner I ate at Tripps suddenly climbed and lingered in my throat. I swallowed hard while I swallowed the scene before me. My husband and his lover.
My husband, Pastor Quincy Wallace.
Quincy, my “better” half, commanded the attention of the crowd for the majority of his life. He’d certainly caught mine the first time I saw him. I was a sophomore in high school, perusing the football field as most teenaged girls do after they’ve reached puberty. My deep-set eyes followed the skyscraper making his way around the track. Quincy’s legs were pistons pounding the hot asphalt. I wondered what led God to make a seventeen-year-old boy look like a man. Dark as sin. Faint mustache. Determined lips.
“Don’t even waste your time!”
I jumped when I heard Corinne’s voice behind me. Ms. Michaels, my best friend since the age of six, stood there with a hand on her hip and a crooked smile on her lips. I hoped the way I watched the sweat trickle from his flat top haircut down his forehead to his muscular torso wasn’t obvious.
“What?” she mimicked in a high nasally voice. “Girl, you know who I’m talking about! Quincy Wallace. Star athlete. Straight-A student. And did I forget fine as hell?” I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, so I was checking him out. And? After all those things you just named, what’s not to like?” Corinne shook her head sympathetically. She placed an arm around my shoulders and put her lips to my ear as though she was about to share a CIA secret.
“I hear he’s not into girls.” I pulled away to look at her.
“It’s true! I heard he messed with Fruit Rollup. And I’m a cheerleader so you know I hear all the good gossip first.”
“And that’s exactly what it is, Corinne. Gossip. Don’t tell me you believe everything you hear? Furthermore, who in the world is Fruit Rollup?” Corinne cocked her head to the left and looked skyward.
“Never mind. You don’t know him.”
“Besides, who could turn down all this?” I did a little spin as we walked along the fence, an afternoon ritual we shared whenever Corinne finished practice.
“Well, you ain’t all that,” she joked. “Let me stop, you know you’re beautiful. Out of all the girls at this school, I think you have the best chance. After all, he is a deacon’s son and that’s probably why he’s turning down all these fast chicks left and right. He has standards. And you have more to offer than just your looks. Plus, you’re the new girl.”
That’s why I love Corinne. Not because she strokes my ego but because she doesn’t mind giving props to another black girl when they’re due. Even a “high-yellow” one.
My parents taught me a long time ago not to rely on my face as soon as I was old enough to realize that everyone thought I was “cute”. I followed their cue. I applied myself to my studies and even though I started modeling at the age of nine, I wasn’t thinking about investing my money in a Reese’s peanut butter cup. I wanted my own beauty salon one day. Maybe my model’s height was what really drew me to Quincy. When you’re a girl that’s sixteen and stands almost six feet tall, it’s hard to find a boyfriend who reaches your chin while you’re wearing heels. Or one that doesn’t joke about being so short that he can offer other things—supposedly, that was the advantage to being vertically challenged.
I never tried to lure a guy with sex because unlike most of my friends, I was still a virgin. I would run to every base but the last one for fear that I would get pregnant and ruin my dreams. And I made that clear from the beginning with any guy I messed with. But as Quincy rounded the track and headed towards us, I realized for the first time I was willing to make an exception.
“Are you going to say something to him, or do I have to embarrass you?” Corinne teased.
The mime-like smile I plastered on my face felt phony and stupid. Quincy didn’t seem to notice as he stopped at the fence. He panted harshly before finding his voice.
“Hey,” Corinne and I said in unison.
Can’t remember what happened after that. Only the itch I didn’t scratch. He’s not into girls.
( Story Continues… )
© 2012 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Alicia Coston. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the publisher’s written permission. Copyright infringement is a serious offense. Share a link to this page or the author’s website if you really like this promotional excerpt.
Purchase The Men Who Sleep With My Husband by Alicia Coston
Genre: Thriller; ISBN: 0979510015
Available on both Kindle and Nook (Paperback available on Amazon only)
Primary Topics discussed: Homosexuality, the black church, deception, crime, religion, and relationships