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Author Archives: Ella Curry, EDC Creations

#PowerRead: The Promised Land by Sherryle Kiser Jackson

Eighteen months into their marriage and ministry, Will and Rebecca Donovan are now faced with new challenges. Recession, sickness and stagnation hit the Grace Apostle Methodist church in a major way. With crippling doubt in his ability to lead his church community through this crisis, Will finds it hard to aid or even bring hope to his congregation when there is little hope in obtaining the one thing he desires most.  He’s left to walk the thin line between hanging in there and hanging it all up.

There is no place to hide when the truth comes looking for Rebecca. She wrestles with infertility and the best time to reveal it to her husband. Her plans to be Super First Lady in an attempt to silence her husband’s cries for an offspring are thwarted when answers to the questions that have haunted her from childhood overtake her. Passions are ignited as old grudges with longtime rivals are dredged up and exhausted, but can they be laid to rest?

Can Will and Rebecca find what they need in one another when the Promised Land seems just beyond their grasp?

Purchase the Print Edition
https://www.amazon.com/Promised-Land-Sherryle-Kiser-Jackson/dp/1530256194

The Promised Land is the third stand-alone installment of the Land of Promiscuity series. Secrets, indiscretions and a crazy twist of unrequited love have taken these two best friends from promiscuity to promise in the first two installments. In The Promised Land they find the path is not a utopian road paved with gold.

Watch a dramatic excerpt from my novel, The Promised Land. Scar Tissue is the inevitable conversation between a husband and wife about secrets of the past. Go here:  https://youtu.be/zgsCicpYqLA


The Promised Land Book Reviews

One of the things I appreciate most about Sherryle Kiser Jackson’s work is her authentic portrayal of real people living out real faith, flaws and all. As an avid reader, particularly of inspirational fiction, I actively seek out great stories about characters I relate to and grow to care about. It’s an added bonus when I also come away with a thing or two I can use in my own life. Few authors accomplish this the way Sherryle does. In The Promised Land we see parts of ourselves and the people we know in the characters. We locate our own lives within their story and we receive a message of hope as well. If you are in the market for a compelling story, then The Promised Land is an excellent choice.
— Isunji Cardoso, Author of “Faith Lifts: 31 Daily Boosts for Sagging Faith”

In The Promise Land, Sherryle Kiser Jackson illustrates the true meaning of spiritual growth, forgiveness and redemption.  As a Pastor and First Lady live out his sermons, they face their own mistakes, weaknesses and doubts on the way to God’s revelation of their own “Promised Land.”  Ms. Kiser-Jackson wraps faith and deliverance in realistic, imperfect characters in a writing style that holds a mirror to our souls; Giving the reader hope in the power of divine restoration and grace.
— Norma L. Jarrett, Essence Bestselling Author of The Sunday Brunch Series, Sweet Magnolia and other novels

Read the rest of this entry »

 

A Letter for My Mother by Nina Foxx

A Letter for My Mother
by Nina Foxx

Whether they’re from the US, Caribbean, India, or the UK, all of the contributors to A Letter for My Mother share one thing in common: thoughts that have been left unsaid to their mothers and mother figures—until now. In this moving book, thirty-three women reveal the stories, reflections, confessions, and revelations they’ve kept to themselves for years and have finally put into words. Written through tears and pain, as well as joy and laughter, each offering presents the mother-daughter bond in a different light.

Heartfelt and deeply meaningful, A Letter for My Mother will inspire you to admire and cherish that special relationship that shapes every woman.


Excerpt from A Letter for My Mother 

My ex-husband’s mother was dying. During the time I was married to him, our relationship had been at best, tenuous. I married her oldest son and she never forgave me for that, or at least it seemed that way in my head. I couldn’t seem to understand some of her ways and she couldn’t understand mine. I was from a different place than she and my life was different than both hers and that of her daughters. At times, she seemed to resent me for that. Some days, she went from insulting me, my family, my upbringing and lifestyle in one sentence to embracing me and trying to nurture me, all in the space of a twelve-hour period. It was infuriating. I retaliated, resisted, rebelled and refused to accept. I’d already had a mother. She’d died when I was six, and no one could replace her. Various female members of my biological family had given me all the mothering I thought I would need so I saw no need to accept any from a stranger.

Over the years, our relationship changed and softened, especially after the children came, but I’ll admit I was never comfortable with her. When I divorced her son, I thought I was walking away from her family too and struggled with the link that lay between us and the desire to do the right thing. I was more compelled to stay in contact with family than my ex-husband was, but didn’t want to overstep my bounds by staying in touch with his family for my children. Divorce was a relationship quagmire I had a hard time negotiating. I wanted my children to know and love their family, all of it, but I didn’t want to be the uncomfortable bridge that made that happen. My mother-in-law didn’t care what I felt. She was always going to be here, and though my last name had changed, she still offered her opinion, advice and whatever else she felt like when we spoke, making me still more uncomfortable.

I knew she was ill, but I still felt as if I’d been knocked off my feet when I received the call that she was dying. Tears and confusion flooded my brain. At first, I couldn’t understand why I was not emotionless. My sister, the main mother figure in my life, explained my reaction to me and encouraged me to tell my mother-in-law what I had to say to her before I no longer could. She assured me that even though I was unwilling to admit it, I was close to this woman and couldn’t avoid being unnerved. We had developed a relationship over the years. My sister encouraged me to write down what I wanted to say to the woman before she died if I was unable to speak the words. The result was the letter that led to this book.

As I wrote, I realized that although she and I were very different, my mother-in-law had been mothering me all along and didn’t care whether I wanted to accept it or not. Because I had been raised to do the right thing, I started out treating her with respect, and even though my respect was peppered with defiance, it didn’t stop me from loving her. Over time, I treated her with respect not because I was supposed to, but because I had come to respect her.

I finished my letter and my mother-in-law died three hours later. I was as devastated as if she had given birth to me, but I did feel some relief that I had said to the universe the things I wanted to say but hadn’t been able to for the fifteen years our families had been linked by my marriage to her son. In writing my letter, I discovered that I had been so stressed by our relationship because I wasn’t open to mothering and mother-wisdom of the kind that we receive from the more seasoned members of the female community. I don’t know why this was. Perhaps it was because my own wound from losing my mother so young had not yet healed, some thirty-plus years later. I read my letter over and over, and as I did, it occurred to me that I was not alone.

As females, we have a way of nurturing others, usually children and men, but we are often reluctant to nurture and share with each other. As young women, we are often mean girls (or the victims of them). We might make a few close friends as young adults, but throughout our lives, many of us are very slow to let new women in. Rather than embrace each other, we push away. We argue with and resent our mothers, and more often than not, fall prey to the idea that our mothers-in-law and stepmothers, all “outside women,” are evil rather than a source of support or knowledge. As we do so, we miss our lessons until finally we only see them in hindsight.

I invited other women to write a letter to a mother in their lives, someone who guided them when they didn’t want to be guided and perhaps someone they’d never thanked. In the letter, they were to tell them what they wanted them to know. The recipient of the letter needn’t be alive or biologically related, just someone to whom they had things to say to but lacked courage or foresight to be able to say those things, a thank you. Many of the writers I asked to participate agreed to do so right away. What I hadn’t counted on though were those authors that were my friends who would refuse to participate. They had no issue with the concept.

Instead, their reluctance was based on where they were in their own personal journeys with the mother figures in their lives. Some were not able to say anything positive so chose to say nothing. Others had no idea what they would say or they hadn’t worked through their feelings about that mother-daughter relationship yet and they feared the experience would be too painful for them. There are emotional wounds that only another woman can inflict on you, and theirs had not yet begun to crust over. I received many calls and notes from those who did choose to participate, often filled with apprehension and tears.
This task I was asking of them was harder than any of us had imagined, yet those who got through it reported experiencing a catharsis they had never counted on. The relationship that was closest to us proved to be the hardest to be honest about and the hardest to resolve. Writing these letters, love letters to our mothers, forced us to let go of the anger that had hung around our necks for years and let it float away from us. We had to give the bad memories to the universe and embrace the good and how that had shaped us into adulthood.

While I read the submissions, my love and respect for these women grew exponentially. I’d asked them to participate because I respected them and where they were in their craft and professional lives. I challenged them to look beyond the ordinary and find something positive in their relationship with their mothers. This proved to be harder for some than others, but once I was given a glimpse of their journeys and the women that had helped to shape them, they were all much bigger in my eyes. This process was like therapy for many of us, and as we navigated the murkiness of our childhoods, our paths through our womanhoods became that much clearer.

Charlenne T. Greer died on a Friday in May, 2012.  Cigarettes killed her. She was not my mother or even related by blood.  Still, I am thankful for her lessons.


A Letter for My Mother by Nina Foxx

Genre: Creative Non-fiction

Meet the Author
Nina Foxx is an award-winning filmmaker, playwright, and novelist. She writes as both Nina Foxx and Cynnamon Foster. Her work has appeared on numerous bestseller lists around the country, and her films have won awards at the Sundance Film Festival, the Tribeca Film Festival, Cannes, and the Rome International Film Festival. Originally from Jamaica, New York, she lives with her family near Seattle, Washington, where she works in Human-Computer interaction for a major software company. Nina is a proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc, The Links and Jack & Jill of America. Visit her at http://www.ninafoxx.com or her blog at ninafoxx.blogspot.com

 
 

Intimate Conversations with Nina Foxx

 

A Letter for My Mother and Momma: Gone A Personal Story

nineiheire

Nina Foxx is an award-winning filmmaker, playwright, and novelist. She writes as both Nina Foxx and Cynnamon Foster. Her work has appeared on numerous bestseller lists around the country, and her films have won awards at the Sundance Film Festival, the Tribeca Film Festival, Cannes, and the Rome International Film Festival.

Originally from Jamaica, New York, she lives with her family near Seattle, Washington, where she works in Human-Computer interaction for a major software company. Nina is a proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc, The Links and Jack & Jill of America. Visit her at http://www.ninafoxx.com or her blog at ninafoxx.blogspot.com

BPM: What drove you to sit down and actually start writing this book, A Letter for My Mother?
A year or so ago, I got a call that the woman who used to be my mother in law was dying. We hadn’t had a good relationship, but I was surprised because the news was very upsetting to me. I was across the country and couldn’t go to where she was encouraged by my sister to write a letter to her and tell her what I wanted to say. The idea was that someone who was there with her could share the letter with her.

After I was done, I thought I would blog it or try to have it published in a magazine. My agent suggested that I write this as an anthology instead; so many woman have interesting relationships with their mothers, mother figures and other women in their lives. So I asked my writer and filmmaker friends to contribute to what is now this book. I didn’t realize how difficult it would be for so many people. People caled me crying and struggling through. Others just couldn’t do it so they refused to be in the project. They weren’t ready to face whatever issues they had with their mother-figure. They are people who had things to say but chose to write under pseudonym to conceal their identities. Everyone that participated said the process was cathartic for them and the result are some amazing pieces.

BPM: Introduce us to your current work, A Letter for My Mother.  
A Letter for My Mother is creative non-fiction and essays. It is available where ever books are sold and in all digital formats.

BPM: What topics are primarily discussed? Did you learn anything from writing your book?
Every woman that participated wrote a letter and a short essay, to their mother or mother figure. They had to tell them something that they either never had the chance to, or something they coudlnt’ tell them before. My only requirement was that they had to focus on the positive that they had gained from the relationship with this person. My own mother died when I was a child, and I didn’t think I felt any way about that anymore. After I helped each person write their piece, I realized I had something to say to my own mother and sister. That is the last letter in the book.

BPM: What are your expectations for this book, A Letter for My Mother? What would you like for readers to do after reading this book?
After reading this, I would hope that readers tell a woman they love something they have given them; thank them for whatever that is. I also have related film project in my head.


Discussing Momma: Gone A Personal Story


BPM: What inspired you to write this book, Momma: Gone A Personal Story?

I started writing this many years ago. I think it is actually the first thing I ever tried to write. I had a memory of going to a bar with my mother and wanted to put it on paper. She died before I was seven, so it was very hazy, but more things unfolded from my memory.

BPM: Is this a true story, Momma: Gone A Personal Story?
Absolutely. This book is based on my childhood. It is embellished, of course. Sweetie (main character) had a story that needed to be told.

BPM: Introduce us to Momma: Gone A Personal Story.
Well, this book is literary fiction. If I’d had more courage, I would have written it as Creative non-fiction. This is a story about family and heartbreak as much as it is about loss and recovery. More truth than not, Momma: Gone is a story of survival, where all the lessons are taught by the child who must eventually lead them through and a classic American story of overcoming life’s misfortunes to find the bloom on the other side.

BPM: Tell us about your main characters. What makes them so special?
Sweetie is seven years old when this story begins. She is a precocious child that is very much aware of the things that are going on around her, even though the adults never tell her what is going on. She is aware of her mother’s illness and the effect it has on the family.

“Momma set me on the jukebox.” So begins the personal story of Denise (Sweetie) Wooten, set between a post-civil rights era New York City and a growing, but stale rural Alabama. We are thrust in the midst of a family longing for normalcy, but instead struggling with illness and all that comes with it; denial, anger and misunderstanding and love. As cultures clash, we see the family through a child’s eyes and walk with her as she makes sense of war fought far away, but with effects close to home, and a tragedy that changes her life forever.

More truth than not, Momma: Gone is a story of survival, where all the lessons are taught by the child who must eventually lead them through and a classic American story of overcoming life s misfortunes to find the bloom on the other side. -Momma: Gone A Personal Story was shortlisted for a Doctorow Award in Innovative Fiction.

BPM: What are your goals for your writing career?
Momma: Gone is my 15th book. I just want to continue to tell good stories and make a few good movies.

BPM: What would you like for readers to do after reading Momma: Gone A Personal Story?
I want people to feel along with the main character as she grows, then go out and tell someone about it.

Nina’s website: http://www.ninafoxx.com 
Blogging: http://ninafoxx.blogspot.com
Like and follow on Twitter: @ninafoxx


A Letter for My Mother by Nina Foxx

Genre: Creative Non-fiction
Link: http://amzn.com/1593095325



Momma: Gone A Personal Story 
by Nina Foxx

Link: http://amzn.com/0615902162

 
 
 

Non-fiction: A Letter for My Mother Edited by Nina Foxx

A Letter for My Mother 
Edited by Nina Foxx

Whether they’re from the US, Caribbean, India, or the UK, all of the contributors to A Letter for My Mother share one thing in common: thoughts that have been left unsaid to their mothers and mother figures—until now. In this moving book, thirty-three women reveal the stories, reflections, confessions, and revelations they’ve kept to themselves for years and have finally put into words. Written through tears and pain, as well as joy and laughter, each offering presents the mother-daughter bond in a different light.


Heartfelt and deeply meaningful, A Letter for My Mother will inspire you to admire and cherish that special relationship that shapes every woman.
Excerpt from A Letter for My Mother 

My ex-husband’s mother was dying. During the time I was married to him, our relationship had been at best, tenuous. I married her oldest son and she never forgave me for that, or at least it seemed that way in my head. I couldn’t seem to understand some of her ways and she couldn’t understand mine. I was from a different place than she and my life was different than both hers and that of her daughters. At times, she seemed to resent me for that.

Some days, she went from insulting me, my family, my upbringing and lifestyle in one sentence to embracing me and trying to nurture me, all in the space of a twelve-hour period. It was infuriating. I retaliated, resisted, rebelled and refused to accept. I’d already had a mother. She’d died when I was six, and no one could replace her. Various female members of my biological family had given me all the mothering I thought I would need so I saw no need to accept any from a stranger.

Over the years, our relationship changed and softened, especially after the children came, but I’ll admit I was never comfortable with her. When I divorced her son, I thought I was walking away from her family too and struggled with the link that lay between us and the desire to do the right thing. I was more compelled to stay in contact with family than my ex-husband was, but didn’t want to overstep my bounds by staying in touch with his family for my children. Divorce was a relationship quagmire I had a hard time negotiating. I wanted my children to know and love their family, all of it, but I didn’t want to be the uncomfortable bridge that made that happen. My mother-in-law didn’t care what I felt. She was always going to be here, and though my last name had changed, she still offered her opinion, advice and whatever else she felt like when we spoke, making me still more uncomfortable.

I knew she was ill, but I still felt as if I’d been knocked off my feet when I received the call that she was dying. Tears and confusion flooded my brain. At first, I couldn’t understand why I was not emotionless. My sister, the main mother figure in my life, explained my reaction to me and encouraged me to tell my mother-in-law what I had to say to her before I no longer could. She assured me that even though I was unwilling to admit it, I was close to this woman and couldn’t avoid being unnerved. We had developed a relationship over the years. My sister encouraged me to write down what I wanted to say to the woman before she died if I was unable to speak the words. The result was the letter that led to this book.

As I wrote, I realized that although she and I were very different, my mother-in-law had been mothering me all along and didn’t care whether I wanted to accept it or not. Because I had been raised to do the right thing, I started out treating her with respect, and even though my respect was peppered with defiance, it didn’t stop me from loving her. Over time, I treated her with respect not because I was supposed to, but because I had come to respect her.

I finished my letter and my mother-in-law died three hours later. I was as devastated as if she had given birth to me, but I did feel some relief that I had said to the universe the things I wanted to say but hadn’t been able to for the fifteen years our families had been linked by my marriage to her son. In writing my letter, I discovered that I had been so stressed by our relationship because I wasn’t open to mothering and mother-wisdom of the kind that we receive from the more seasoned members of the female community.

I don’t know why this was. Perhaps it was because my own wound from losing my mother so young had not yet healed, some thirty-plus years later. I read my letter over and over, and as I did, it occurred to me that I was not alone.

As females, we have a way of nurturing others, usually children and men, but we are often reluctant to nurture and share with each other. As young women, we are often mean girls (or the victims of them). We might make a few close friends as young adults, but throughout our lives, many of us are very slow to let new women in. Rather than embrace each other, we push away. We argue with and resent our mothers, and more often than not, fall prey to the idea that our mothers-in-law and stepmothers, all “outside women,” are evil rather than a source of support or knowledge. As we do so, we miss our lessons until finally we only see them in hindsight.
 
 

YA READ: Catfish by Nina Foxx

Catfish by Nina Foxx


Best Friends Dana and Damika share everything about each other, because that’s what best friends do, right? But when it comes to relationships, the high schoolers are keeping secrets in cyberspace. After Boy Crazy Dana meets the “perfect” guy, she figures the only way to get close is to tell little white lies. As their relationship flourishes, an inappropriate photo sent for his eyes only…ends up going viral, and threatens Dana’s reputation and her future. 
Tech nerd Damika is able to reinvent herself online and she’s created a cyber life that no one knows about but her. When she meets Rosheon, she’s thrilled at their budding relationship, until she discovers there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye because just as she can reinvent herself….so can others. As the lies become unmanageable, can Dana and Damika dig themselves out of a web of a mess before it’s too late?In this page-turning novel, Catfish,  Nina Foxx dives into a world where nothing is as it seems and danger takes on new meaning in cyberspace.

Excerpt from Chapter One

Dana

My father was not slick. I tried not to twist my mouth as I listened to him attempting to convince me that what he talking about was a good thing. We have a pretty good relationship since he and my mother got divorced, but sometimes he was just transparent as hell.

“Dana, you’re gonna love this new church.” He looked at me all starry-eyed and he talked in that voice he used on me when he wanted something. He looked and sounded the same way my boy crazy best friend, Damika did every time she met a new hottie.

I groaned. “Church?” Since when had he found religion? Our time together was limited and we didn’t usually spend it in church. I wasn’t sure he’d even been inside one since before my mother divorced him, and even then, he’d only gone kicking and screaming.

He wanted me to say something. So, I did.

“And what’s your new girlfriend’s name?”

My dad’s mouth dropped open. That probably wasn’t what he was looking for. I might have been sixteen, but I wasn’t born yesterday. The only reason my father would be talking about new churches and religion was behind a woman. I shook my head. He was going to have to text me from hell.

I couldn’t blame him, really. My father was a hot commodity. He’s a single, good-looking black man with a good heart. He owned his own home and paid his child support like clockwork. Plus, he had it going on – for an older man. Even though he had a teenaged daughter, he was still attractive and dressed well. He might not be all swole with underwear model abs, but he was a catch. Back in the day, he was really into fitness and now that he was old, it paid off. He didn’t have a potbelly like other people’s fathers, so I was used to women chasing him. They’d done that before, even when he was married, and it had only gotten worse since.

A lot of kids get messed up when their parent’s spilt up, but me, I was okay with it. It was a relief actually, because when they were together, they’d fought all the time. My mother said they loved hard and they fought hard, too. The problem was, I remember the fighting more than anything. If there was love, I never saw it. A few times I’d have to keep myself from throwing up when I heard the noises in their bedroom, but even I knew that sex and love wasn’t the same thing. Toward the end they would yell and scream way into the early hours of the morning.

“It’s okay. I’ll go if you need me to.” It almost hurt me to say that. I really didn’t feel like going to church, especially one all the way in Brooklyn, but it was easy to see how my words had made him happy. Unlike my mom, he was easy to please. His shoulders relaxed and the nervous look on his face was replaced by a smile.

“It’s not what you think. I actually used to go here with my mother when I was a kid,” he said.

I folded my arms across my chest and cocked my head to the side. “So, you’re saying that it’ll just be the two of us?” I knew the answer, but I couldn’t resist asking anyway. My father was just too easy sometimes. Clearly, I was the one running game here.

Dad fidgeted a little; similar to the way I did when I was about to tell an un-truth. “No. A friend invited me.”

“Um-huh. I knew it. You can’t put anything over on me, Dad. I’ve only been your daughter for sixteen years.”

He laughed. “You’ll like her. You’ll see.”

That remained to be seen. Lots of kids had hot moms, but having a hot father was another matter. Women threw themselves at him all the time, all kinds of women. They would hear that “boom-chicka-wawa” when he came in and it was all over. My parents fought about that often, like his swagger was something he could control. My mother would get mad and say it was my father’s fault. Now that they were apart, the women threw themselves at him and me, like they had to win me over, too. And they were right, they did.

I had to admit that I was going to miss the last one. She’d been a buyer for Macy’s, and let me tell you, that had its benefits for me. I owed the hot Baby Phat outfit I had on right now to her. She’d hooked me up with clothes regularly, but of course, the gear stopped coming as soon as they’d broken up.

“Dad, what happened to Susan? I liked her.”

“Too high maintenance. Can you go upstairs and put on a dress? If we’re going to get there on time, we gotta get going.”

I was a little upset that we’d be spending what was left of our weekend with someone that was practically a stranger to me, but it was obvious that my father really wanted me to go. I could overlook my disappointment just this once.

We picked up my father’s new girlfriend just a few blocks from the church. My dad was nervous as he introduced us. “Dana,” he said. “I’d like you to meet Wanda. My friend.”

I raised my eyes, but answered her politely as I was taught to do. “Nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

My father looked as nervous as the cat that just got caught with his paw in the fishbowl as she laughed. “You don’t have to call me Ma’am. Aunty Wanda will do.”

As if. My Mom had no sisters. I sat in the back so she could ride with my dad, and she was very polite. We’d been through a few girlfriends by now and I’d learned to watch and wait. If they made it past a few weeks, then maybe the two of us could be friends. Otherwise, there was no reason to get attached too early. One mistake, and poof, she could be gone, just like that.

If nothing else, this one was well-dressed, even if she was wearing one of those old lady knit suits. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her makeup was flawless. She looked a little uptight, but was tall and Top Model thin. Her navy suit fit her like a glove, and she smelled good. Two points for the new woman. My dad was into smell. The funny thing was, this one seemed as high-maintenance as Susan had been. Another mom-ism echoed in my head. What was that she’d say? The things that attract you also make you crazy later? It was like my father was attracted to the same woman, over and over.

I stared out the window of the car and tried to ignore her chattering as we made our way through the streets of Brooklyn. A glimpse into the rearview mirror told me what I already knew. My father had a grin plastered to his face. He liked this one, but then, they always started out good.

“Dana, I’m so glad you were able to join us. Our church has such a great youth program. You’ll be able to meet some nice young people. Young people that are doing things.”

I rolled my eyes and kept looking out the window. There was no need for all the noise. Now, did I look like I needed a “program”? She obviously had things twisted. It wasn’t like I was some kind of problem child. I went to school regularly and got mostly good grades, and I was generally respectful to my parents, wasn’t pregnant and didn’t do drugs. I’d said I would go today, but I wasn’t trying to enjoy it and I made no promises about going again. And I certainly wasn’t trying to hang out with no church kids. I had my own life, in Queens, with all the friends I needed. What could I possible have in common with any of these people? Brooklyn was just too far for anything. I didn’t drive, and taking the bus or train all the way across town was just crazy.

We pulled up in front a huge, white brick building that seemed to take up the entire block. Crowds of people walked toward it. I was speechless as my father maneuvered the car into a space and we got out. I don’t know why I’d pictured a tiny little cute church, in a storefront or something like that. This building was huge, very old on one end, but it got newer as it went down the block. The corner stone said 1902. There was nothing that old in my neighborhood. Across the street, there was a huge parking lot that took up another city block and that looked like it was filling up, too.

Both Dad and Wanda smiled and greeted people and I tagged behind them. Wanda was the only one that looked comfortable, while my father just looked embarrassed. He was about to be on display like Wanda’s new man-candy. All the church ladies were grinning at him while Wanda walked with her head held high and her huge pink bible tucked under her arm, without a care in the world as she showed off her add-water-stir family.

 
 

Let The Truth Be Told (4 Book Series) by Antoinette R. Davis

Let The Truth Be Told (4 Book Series) by Antoinette R. Davis

From Book 1: Claudia Ellison is straight out of Baltimore; she’s just graduated from college and ready to bring major changes to her social and financial situation however there are some missing pieces.

Claudia wants a husband, a baby and a successful career but living in Baltimore, Maryland men are not plentiful and the one man her heart longs for is in the federal penitentiary and the men she’s been dating are not up to part.

Claudia befriends the new First lady of her church and leans on her for advice and guidance when her world starts spinning out of control but it seems the First Lady of the church wants to put her own spin on Claudia Ellison.

Let Truth Be Told Vol 2 (Let The Truth Be Told) by Antoinette Davis
Vol 2, This is a thrilling novel about an upstanding family enthralled with lies. Claudia just said I do to pastor Terrence Madden and saying Good-bye to her worldly way of living. Transitioning into the First Lady has it’s challenges especially now that Claudia has a baby and a career. The Ellison family faces one obstacle after another and they are holding together by a thread. It’s going to take everyone in the family to pull together if they expect to survive.

Let The Truth Be Told Vol 3 (Let The Truth Be Told) by Antoinette Davis
We left off in Vol 2 with a new addition to the Ellison family, Constance Ellison. Hold on tight because she did not come in peace she came to take down her half-siblings with the help of a surprising source. Constance refuses to let go of the idea that her father left a will and his illegitimate child was left out of it. Constance came to get what is hers and take more in the process. Constance will touch each one of her half-siblings, one by one in an attempt to ruin them all.

Let The Truth Be Told Vol 4 (Let The Truth Be Told) by Antoinette Davis
Constance is ready to strike and the time is now. She has set everything into motion and Michael’s incarceration is just a mild technicality for her.

Constance has new plans with a new love and her new lover will surely to shake the foundation in which the Ellison are standing on. The near-death experience Phyllis had made Terrence revisit his former occupation but only this time he’s working it from another angle.

Lisa is done with trying to hide her sexuality and after a few sequences of events, she steps out of the closet completely and into an unexpected love affair that has her in a whirlwind. New unlikely alliances will be formed and some truths will be told however, lies will lead to a loss of life.

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Karma Series by Antoinette R. Davis

Karma by Antoinette R. Davis

He’s independent, successful and enjoying the fruits of his labor however with all of his new found success Elston Amos finds himself in a compromising situation after a night of celebrating with the boys that leads to a deadly outcome. He is torn between doing what is right and facing the consequences or hiding behind a lie. That’s when Brenda Vander a total stranger walks into his life from out of the shadows of darkness.


Brenda decides she wants Elston for herself and she will do whatever it takes to have him. Brenda seduces, manipulates and finally pushes Elston to the end of his rope with her lies and interference into his personal life so Elston devices a plan to get rid Brenda once and for all and get his life back on track so he can marry Samantha his true love of over ten years however the plans go all wrong and now Elston is life has taken a turn he was not prepared for.

Elston’s lost soul leads him to a pathway of destruction.

Elston Amos has just landed the job of his dreams; all of the effort and hard work he and his father sacrificed for has paid off. Elston plans a night of celebrating with his long-time frat brothers and friends; however, things turn deadly for Elston after a night of drinking and driving. What was a celebration has turned into a tragedy for Elston’s future, but there is one woman who can save Elston; however it could cost him his soon to be wife and his house in the suburbs.

Brenda Vander, a total stranger, walks out of the shadow of darkness and right into Elston’s life with a secret she uses to blackmail him with to get what she wants. Brenda seduces, manipulates and finally pushes Elston to the end of his rope.

Elston devises a plan that will remove Branda from his life permanently; however, his scheme fails and now Elston must face a judge and jury.

Download Karma by Antoinette R. Davis
https://aerbook.com/maker/productcard-4649530-8601.html


Karma II by Antoinette R. Davis

Greatness can rise from the ashes of horror.

Elston Amos learns the truth about Brenda Vander’s murder; and the fate t of his future. Elston is trying to pick up the pieces of his life; however, there are still skeletons in his closet that are making it difficult for him to live in his skin comfortably.Amongst the turmoil, lies, and deceit Elston has created, he decides to run for Mayor of Baltimore City and give back to the community he grew up.

A family crisis will rock the Amos family and Elston has to deal with one crisis after another. Elston thinks his ride to City Hall will be a breeze but a bittersweet reality shakes the core of his manhood and the foundation of his marriage becomes quicksand. Elston must now face the consequences of his past actions and it all resembles KARMA.

Order the Karma Series by Antoinette R. Davis (2 Books)
https://www.amazon.com/Karma-2-Book-Series/dp/B077XL96S7

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