Category Archives: Book Spotlights

Abuse of Discretion by Pamela Samuels Young

A Kid’s Curiosity … A Parent’s Nightmare

The award-winning author of “Anybody’s Daughter” is back with an addictive courtroom drama that gives readers a shocking look inside the juvenile criminal justice system.

Graylin Alexander is a model fourteen-year-old. When his adolescent curiosity gets the best of him, Graylin finds himself embroiled in a sexting scandal that threatens to ruin his life. Jenny Ungerman, the attorney hired to defend Graylin, is smart, confident and committed. She isn’t thrilled, however, when ex-prosecutor Angela Evans joins Graylin’s defense team. The two women instantly butt heads. Can they put aside their differences long enough to ensure Graylin gets justice?

Unbeknownst to Angela, her boyfriend Dre is wrestling with his own drama. Someone from his past wants him dead. For Dre, his response is simple—kill or be killed.

Abuse of Discretion is a 5-Star Read!  Here’s what readers are saying:


The author made this story so real for me that there were moments I was actually sitting on the edge of my seat!!! As a parent there were times I wanted to grab Graylin and just shake him; however, this book served as a great lesson of trust and faith.

Urban Reviews

Pamela Samuels Young gives us a signature courtroom drama and mystery that is anything but typical. You get a bird’s-eye view of the confusing juvenile criminal justice system…This book drives the point home about knowing what your child is doing on their computers and cell phones at all times. Abuse of Discretion is a fast-paced, emotionally charged novel with surprising plot twists that Pamela Samuels Young is known for.

B. Eaves
Abuse of Discretion was a fantastic read…I had pre-ordered and was happy to see it on my Kindle..A page turner couldn’t put it down I loved this series. The stories kept getting better with each read with great characters.

This book took me a couple of hours to read. I could not put it down…This book had my emotions all over the place. I was mad. Sad. Happy. Disgusted. This book is definitely worth reading.

Author Pamela Samuels Young always write about our society’s problems, especially youngsters. She knows intimately what she is writing, always trying to open our eyes and be better parents, grandparents.

Great read! …This story is an eye opener and had me full of emotions. Kudos to Pamela Samuels Young on a wonderful story 🙂

Gloria J. Waldren
You have great characters that keep us on the edge of our seats. It is a wonderful book and I loved reading it. Please never stop writing you are an awesome writer.

Purchase Abuse of Discretion (Dre Thomas Series Book 3) by Pamela Samuels Young

Explore Legal Thrillers by Pamela Samuels Young




Chapter 1


“What’s the matter, Mrs. Singletary? Why do I have to go to the principal’s office?”

I’m walking side-by-side down the hallway with my second-period teacher. Students are huddled together staring and pointing at us like we’re zoo animals. When a teacher at Marcus Preparatory Academy escorts you to the principal’s office, it’s a big deal. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I’m a good student. I never get in trouble.

Mrs. Singletary won’t answer my questions or even look at me. I hope she knows she’s only making me more nervous.

“Mrs. Singletary, please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Just follow me. You’ll find out in a minute.”

I’m about to ask her another question when it hits me. Something happened to my mama!

My mama has been on and off drugs for as long as I can remember. I haven’t seen her in months and I don’t even know where she lives. No one does. I act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. I’ve prayed to God a million times to get her off drugs. Even though my granny says God answers prayers, He hasn’t answered mine, so I stopped asking.

I jump in front of my teacher, forcing her to stop. “Was there a death in my family, Mrs. Singletary? Did something happen to my mama?”

“No, there wasn’t a death.”

She swerves around me and keeps going. I have to take giant steps to keep up with her.

Once we’re inside the main office, Mrs. Singletary points at a wooden chair outside Principal Keller’s office. “Have a seat and don’t move.”

She goes into the principal’s office and closes the door. My head begins to throb like somebody’s banging on it from the inside. I close my eyes and try to calm down. I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s probably just—Oh snap! The picture!

I slide down in the chair and pull my iPhone from my right pocket. My hands are trembling so bad I have to concentrate to keep from dropping it. I open the photos app and delete the last picture on my camera roll. If anyone saw that picture, I’d be screwed.

Loud voices seep through the closed door. I lean forward, straining to hear. It almost sounds like Mrs. Singletary and Principal Keller are arguing.

“It’s only an allegation. We don’t even know if it’s true.”

“I don’t care. We have to follow protocol.”

“Can’t you at least check his phone first?”

“I’m not putting myself in the middle of this mess. I’ve already made the call.”

The call? I can’t believe Principal Keller called my dad without even giving me a chance to defend myself. How’d she even find out about the picture?

The door swings open and I almost jump out of my skin. The principal crooks her finger at me. “Come in here, son.”

Trudging into her office, I sit down on a red cloth chair that’s way more comfortable than the hard one outside. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it might jump out of my chest.

The only time I’ve ever been in Principal Keller’s office was the day my dad enrolled me in school. Mrs. Singletary is standing in front of the principal’s desk with her arms folded. I hope she’s going to stay here with me, but a second later, she walks out and closes the door.

Principal Keller sits on the edge of her desk, looking down at me. “Graylin, do you have any inappropriate pictures on your cell phone?”

“Huh?” I try to keep a straight face. “No, ma’am.”

“It’s been brought to my attention that you have an inappropriate picture—a naked picture—of Kennedy Carlyle on your phone. Is that true?”

“No…uh…No, ma’am.” Thank God I deleted it!

“This is a very serious matter, young man. So, I need you to tell me the truth.”

“No, ma’am.” I shake my head so hard my cheeks vibrate. “I don’t have anything like that on my phone.”

“I pray to God you’re telling me the truth.”

I don’t want to ask this next question, but I have to know. “Um, so you called my dad?”

“Yes, I did. He’s on his way down here now.”

I hug myself and start rocking back and forth. Even though I deleted the picture, my dad is still going to kill me for having to leave work in the middle of the day.

“I also made another call.”

At first I’m confused. Then I realize Mrs. Keller must’ve called my granny too. At least she’ll keep my dad from going ballistic.

“So you called my granny?”

“No.” The principal’s cheeks puff up like she’s about to blow something away. “I called the police.”

Read the rest of this entry »


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Black Hearts White Minds: A Novel by Mitch Margo

The year is 1964 and Carl Gordon is an ill-prepared New York Assistant U.S. Attorney who has lied his way into a transfer to Stockville, Alabama, where he is supposed to monitor and enforce the Civil Rights Act.

In a matter of days, the Ku Klux Klan takes aim at him, the outside agitator. Carl has agreed to represent Oleatha Geary, a black family matriarch who has inherited a mansion in an all-white, race-restricted neighborhood. Carl and Oleatha are engulfed in litigation that turns deadly. It’s anyone’s guess who will survive multiple assassination attempts, let alone whose integrity will remain intact.

Carl’s 12-year-old son, John, is unwelcome on Stockville’s white basketball team because of who his father is, and it seems there’s nowhere else for him to play. But ever-resourceful and impulsive Carl makes other plans for John, unwittingly putting John’s life, and the life of his new teammates, at risk. Ultimately, the young players don’t care as much about color lines as they do the lines on the basketball floor.

Praise for Black Hearts White Minds and Mitch Margo

“As I read Black Hearts White Minds, I was reminded by turns of Harper Lee, Willie Morris, and John Grisham. Like Grisham, Mitch Margo is an attorney; like Morris, he’s a former journalist, and like Lee, his writing is evocative with a moral center straight and true.”
-Richard H. Weiss, Former Daily Features Editor, St. Louis Post-Dispatch


“The early sixties are often thought of as a time of lost innocence. Margo reminds us that the era was anything but innocent in the American south. His novel rings with authenticity and his characters’ struggles in the fictional town of Stockville, Alabama foretell the problems we still face today. Stockville is not really so far from Ferguson.”
-Bill McClellan, St. Louis Post-Dispatch


“Mitch Margo enriches his story of the institutional and personal conflicts during the Civil Rights era with characters whose responses are always felt and are at times surprising.”
-Kenneth J. Cooper, Pulitzer Prize Winner


“Black Hearts White Minds transports readers to a time and place in American history when the Civil Rights movement was slowly gaining traction, and segregationists, including the Ku Klux Klan, would stop at nothing to trounce the efforts of blacks and whites fighting for justice. Margo has crafted a narrative that is equal parts engrossing, heartbreaking and hopeful, populated with richly drawn, compelling characters, and an overarching essence that captures the enduring nature of the human spirit, no matter the obstacles.”
-Ellen Futterman, Editor, St. Louis Jewish Light


“At once magical and poignant and terrifying… You will be enchanted by this powerful story.”
-Michael A. Kahn, Award-winning Author, Rachel Gold Mysteries Series


“Mitch Margo sets his first novel in one Alabama town, allowing him to explore the era on a distinctly human scale through ordinary people and not so ordinary events. Margo has a knack for dramatic structure and a sharp eye for contrasting, engaging personalities. And his plot twists manage to be simultaneously startling and entirely credible, no mean feat.”
-Eric Mink, Writer, The Huffington Post


“I simply loved this book, the story, the characters, and of course the basketball concept on his first time out, Mitch Margo scores a triple double.”
-Ron Himes, Founder and Producing Director St. Louis Black Repertory Company


“Mitch Margo did an awesome job making me feel the joy, pain, frustration and passion of each character. I felt like I was right there in Stockville experiencing the story myself…”
-Sharonda McMullen Director, Create A New You


“Black Hearts White Minds is a lively, engrossing novel about two families struggling with the brutality of Jim Crow, one black, the other white. The plotting is deft, the characters vivid, and the ambience as thick as Southern humidity. Mitch Margo knows how to tell a story.”
-David Carkeet, Author, The Full Catastrophe


“Mitch Margo tells a story that combines love, painful history, politics, childhood innocence, prejudice and courage. You will want to read it more than once.”
-Lenora Billings-Harris, Author, The Diversity Advantage: A Guide to Making Diversity Work


“Black Hearts White Minds is an important book that lances the boil of prejudice, peels away the crusted layers of historic bigotry, and reveals a purer sense of what’s possible when we see ourselves and each other as whole and valid. Mitch Margo’s own life experiences coupled with his mastery of story puts him in a league with John Grisham and Taylor Branch.”
-Mara Purl, Bestselling Author, What the Heart Knows and Where the Heart Lives


About the Author
A former reporter for The Detroit News and Los Angeles Herald Examiner and a syndicated columnist for 14 years, Mitch Margo is a native New Yorker and St. Louis trial lawyer. He’s witnessed the clash of cultures which are woven into his first novel, Black Hearts White Minds. Much of the story is drawn from his personal experiences, interviews, and hundreds of hours of research. He credits his eclectic law practice for a new storyline every few days.

As general counsel to the Missouri Valley Conference, and a former youth coach, Mitch has an insider’s view of basketball that enables him to write about it authentically. He’s also a member of the Washington University Sports Hall of Fame, at one time holding the school record in just about every baseball statistic. He’s proud of his days as a student/athlete, but hasn’t lost sight of the fact that you can’t get too much farther from Cooperstown and still be in a hall of fame.







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Beautiful Imperfections by Marjorie Vernelle

“Art, like love, redeems, and love, like beauty, is imperfect.” – Beautiful Imperfections

Wabi sabi, a Japanese term for finding beauty in imperfection, perfectly describes Keith James, “the girl with the boys’ names,” who travels from the Midwestern U.S. to Toronto and on into the world of fine art and big money. Like pieces of raku pottery amidst the porcelain, Keith, her mentor, a brilliant Haitian-born art historian, and the handsome Jewish art dealer who becomes her husband, are all standouts in a world that views them as outsiders. Through loss and love, they discover that art, like love, redeems, and that love, like beauty, is imperfect.


Top Amazon Customer Reviews

5.0 out of 5 stars By Darlini Martinion
I am so impressed with the writings of Marjorie Vernelle! Not only is this novel a page turner, but the amount of information revealed about the art world is amazing. In some ways, It almost feels like an art class! Not knowing much about Toronto, it was very interesting to not only learn a lot about Canada, but what its like to attend University outside of the USA. Woven in between and all around the story is a beautiful love story. I found Keith to be an amazing character and so admire her courage and strength to overcome all of the obstacles presented to her. Trust me, you will not be disappointed with the ending in this novel.


5.0 out of 5 stars By Galen Hazelhofer
This is a wonderful story especially if you are interested in art. If you are not, there is a lot you can learn here. The references are wonderful and you feel like you are in the middle of the art world yourself as Keith does her gallery work and hangs out in the upper echelons of society from San Francisco to Toronto and her visits in between. It is a wonderful story line and I would love to see the movie!


5-Star Review by Jack Magnus for Readers’ Favorite

Beautiful Imperfections is a literary fiction novel written by Marjorie Vernelle. Some might think that the Survey of Art History class that Keith James took to fulfill the Religious Knowledge class in her first year at the University of Toronto was the defining moment in her life, and indeed, in many ways, it was.

Dr. Lucien Montreux, the brilliant, assured and enigmatic Haitian professor and art expert, immediately enthralled her with his energy and fire, his intelligence that seemed to gleam from his eyes, like flashes of diamonds. He was the guardian of the mysteries of the art world and, in introducing them to her in his own inimitable way, he became her mentor, friend and inevitably her lover. The young Nebraskan sophomore’s eyes were caught not only by the lovely and charismatic man conducting the class as if it were a symphony, she was also drawn to the very pale and beautiful young man sitting just a few seats away and down one aisle. She was fascinated by his long, dark curls and lustrous black eyes, his intelligent and measured responses to Montreux’s lecture. David and the professor would become the two most important people in her life, satellites orbiting her world, but her defining moment had actually taken place some days earlier when Sadie Lee Celestine James attended the Frosh dinner as a new student, and in a moment of clarity and inspiration, had become Keith James, someone who was “jazz, sharp, modern, improvised, like a cool, clear note blown straight from the trumpet of Miles Davis and well worth consideration.”

Even more than that transcendent first lecture where Keith meets Montreux and David. I was stunned by the passage quoted above relating Sadie Lee’s transformation into Keith.

Marjorie Vernelle’s literary fiction novel, Beautiful Imperfections, is as grand and glorious as the Turner landscapes Keith loves so much and as complex and nuanced as Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain. The art lover and aspiring artist in me instantly felt at home in Keith’s world and loved learning with her the intricacies of her craft as an art expert and gallery owner. Vernelle’s descriptions of life in San Francisco had me feeling like I was back there myself, and the spell she weaves about Toronto made me almost consider braving those winters to experience that city first-hand. There’s music in these pages, and not just the jazz evoked by Keith’s brilliant name change — add a bit of Stravinsky and some discordant new classical works and then stir in some rich classical symphonies as those three lives swirl, clash and continue their endless striving to connect. But most of all there’s the art, the Turners, the five little De Koonings that mean so much in so many different ways and cause oh, so much pain, the hidden Old Masters that could save Keith from the total tragedy that befell after the San Francisco earthquake.

And there’s her own art, Keith’s own visions of light and color. All these things swirl and conspire to delight the reader. I love this book. It’s beautiful and perfect. Beautiful Imperfections is most highly recommended.

Purchase Beautiful Imperfections by Marjorie Vernelle
Women’s Contemporary Fiction




Chapter Excerpt: Beautiful Imperfections by Marjorie Vernelle

Keith James, a young black woman and her mentor Lucien Montreux, a Haitian art historian, are at a fundraiser in which people’s valuables are being appraised in hopes of finding some treasure. Keith finds her treasure in Dr. Montreux.

I set up the table for an appraiser, had reference books at the ready, and took the tickets of those who came, making sure that they matched the number of items they had paid to have appraised. Then I observed. It was painful really. The jade dish that someone’s great grandfather had brought back from his adventures on the China Sea turned out to be nothing but soapstone, proven when the appraiser could scratch the bottom of the dish with a coin and leave a tiny mark. The printed picture brought lovingly across the sea from Ireland by a great ancestor in the 18th century was just that century’s equivalent of a calendar picture: no value then, no value now. I had to admit that my aesthetic tastes, still developing at the time, let me know when some of these family treasures were just ugly junk, then, now, and forever.

I performed my duties professionally, though, without comment or expression. Lucien Montreux was there working on Saturday, just across the room from where I was. I was surprised to see him at this more ordinary event, as he had been very present on Thursday evening to work with the wealthy patrons of the gallery. After taking the ticket and getting each client settled for his or her appraisal, I would sit with one ear attuned to what the appraiser was saying and with both eyes on Montreux. I could not hear what he was saying, but I could watch his manner. Each appraiser received the next client in line, but I noticed that some of those shown to Montreux seemed to hesitate, showing reluctance. Obviously, it was a bit odd for them to see a black specialist sitting there, though Hamilton-Colbert only hired the best appraisers. Montreux for his part was completely unconcerned, greeting each client with charming and gracious manners. As he talked about the object they had brought to him, I would see them lean forward in interest. From time to time, an assistant for one of the other appraisers, someone younger and newer to the business, would come asking for advice. Seeing their expert be the man whom others went to for advice seemed to convince the skeptical. I found out later that Montreux always volunteered to be of assistance to those new to doing public appraisals, which created a visible acknowledgment of his talent that smoothed his way with the reluctant public. I marveled at his strategy. “Sly old fox,” I thought.

As I watched Lucien Montreux, a memory came to me of a Japanese raku teacup I had seen at Hamilton-Colbert. It might have belonged to Sen no Rikyu, the 16th century master of the tea ceremony and vassal of Lord Hideyoshi Toyotomi. Oddly shaped, that cup was far from the static, pure, porcelain beauty of Old Japan. However, its dark surface had an attractive shimmer. The irregular rises and falls in its form pleased the hand, finding a way to fit perfectly no matter how the cup is held. Sitting by itself it attracted the eye by its difference. Among other pieces of raku, it held its own, playing its unique part like an instrument in an orchestra. Lucien Montreux was that masterpiece of raku. He did not fit the porcelain model. The irregularity of his being in this setting caught the eye. The beauty of his talent and expression drew one to him, just like the soft shimmering finish and odd form of that teacup moved one to desire it. He was the prize, the rare object, by some standards imperfect in form, yet beyond measure in its beautiful allure.

I noticed from across the room that Dr. Montreux would look up from his appraisal work and smile at me. I had sent him a formal letter of thank you, but I had not contacted him otherwise since that windy day on campus when our paths had crossed. As things wrapped up on that Saturday, I excused myself for a moment to go across to talk to him. He looked up and watched me as I approached. Read the rest of this entry »


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The Wicker Diary by Wil Harris

From three generations of diary entries, follow the drama and intrigue in the lives of two families as they look to the future in a sometimes unfair America.


The Coffey family begins with black Civil War soldier Tanin Coffey, and his son, Tanin Jr., who struggled to survive as they came to grips with a postwar South, the failures of reconstruction, and the Great Depression.

The story continues with Darius Coffey, a World War II veteran, who moved to Florida to work for a group smuggling drugs from Latin America to the United States. His wife, Leona Mihan Coffey, reveals her family’s lies and secrets.

Daryl Christopher was raised by his Cuban mother and served in the Vietnam War before returning to Miami. After he becomes involved in organized crime, he meets Darius and Leona’s daughter Valarie and both of their lives are forever changed, as the next generation finds a place in the world, while making sense of their family’s tangled web.

Watch the video introduction for The Wicker Diary by Wil Harris, go here.



Excerpt: The Wicker Diary by Wil Harris

Hand of the Lord
Then he showed me Joshua the high priest standing before the angel of the Lord, and Satan standing at his right side to accuse him. The Lord said to Satan, “The Lord rebuke you Satan! The Lord who has chosen Jerusalem, rebuke you. -Zechariah 3:1-2


Darius D. Coffey: Part I

My name is Darius D. Coffey, and I was born in the heart of the segregated south on September 12, 1923, in Opelika, Alabama. I entered this world disposed to debt bondage, where acquired liability passed from one generation to the next. My story begins with my granddaddy Tanin Coffey Sr. He signed his name with an X on the contract for a piece of land that he would never own but would finally, one day, rest his body in.

My father always spoke of my granddaddy and the wisdom his life left behind. He was a slave who fled the Alabama cotton fields in 1863 after President Abraham Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation left the South in an uproar.

There is no record of his birth, but it is believed he was between fifteen to seventeen years of age when he escaped slavery. He made his way to Ohio by underground trails and safe houses, dodging slave trackers, and Confederate soldiers along the way. After shuffling through northeast Ohio for a few months, he found himself in West Virginia, where he got by on Christian charity and the efforts of a local abolitionist movement.

He slept in a bed for the first time in West Virginia. Before that it had been dirt floors and hay. He never knew his mother and father or any other family. He grew up among other slaves, who all spoke with different dialects from their region of the African continent and who all suffered the lash and worked at the pleasure of their owner. Granddaddy often thought about Boss Tom, who, as the overseer of the plantation in Alabama, was a brutal white man. Described as tall and burley, he had no troubles hanging any slave-man, woman, or child.

As rumor of the Emancipation Proclamation spread, revolt was at hand. More than 130 slaves rose up, including my grandfather, and killed the master and his family. My grandfather would tell the story of the main house going up in flames while white bodies hung burning in the apple orchard by the dozens. It was Boss Tom’s death that brought the most pleasure. He was alive when they castrated him with broken glass. Someone cut out his tongue and shoved his gentiles down his throat with a stick. He was finally hung from a banister of the main house before it was set on fire.

By this time the North was losing the war, and there was talk that President Lincoln would be raising a black regiment. When my granddaddy heard this, it was all he could think of. He reckoned if he and other black men fought bravely to end the war and bring the country back together, they could have a new and equal start in America. It was as though the ancestors were calling to him from the other side of the sun. Though he could not visualize it, he knew that it was there. Freedom. He had no one who had gone before him to prepare the way so his path was a mystery.

In 1864 he joined the all-black Twenty-Seventh US Infantry. My father would speak proudly of the time granddaddy heard Frederick Douglass speak at an army assembly: “Your granddaddy told me that when Frederick Douglass walked into the hall, there was a hush throughout. With his fiery-white hair and beard, he looked like a king. He told those in attendance that now was their time, and the future of all Negros rested on their shoulders. And those words had an effect on your granddaddy and he never forgot it.”

My granddaddy’s initial experience with army life was that of manual labor. In four months he went from cooking to digging graves for slain white soldiers. The carnage and blood he witnessed heightened his eagerness for glory and honor. There was a fear growing among the black soldiers that the North may lose the war before their opportunity to prove themselves would come. There was skepticism among some Northern white soldiers on how their black counterparts would fair in battle. Many said they didn’t have the discipline to stand and fight in an organized way or the sense to take and follow orders. Everyone got their answer in Virginia in 1864. My grandfather’s first skirmish was fought on a hillside.

A fresh snow had fallen the night before, which made it difficult for him to get his footing while shelling from the Confederate guns tore through the tall trees ahead as they advanced. Men were being shot down all around him as he marched forward. A Confederate bullet passed through his shirt, nicking his left side. He went down to one knee as the burning sensation took over. They were ordered to load weapons. He had done the drill hundreds of times but never to the thud of bullets hitting flesh. He tore open the powder and poured it down the rifle shaft. After dropping a single ball, he quickly packed it. “Fire,” the officers ordered, and he did. Read the rest of this entry »


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New Release: That Church Life 2 by Teresa B. Howell

That Church Life by Teresa B. Howell

The Church Gal Crew is leading the way to Salvation at Mt. Zion Holiness Church. Feisty Natalia Freemon is the “head” of the crew. Rebellious and outspoken, she has no problems challenging the church status quo. Years later however, her loss of faith will tragically impact her life.

Michelle Hanks, a country girl from a hardworking farm family is the peacemaker and “soul” of the crew. Although struggling with self-confidence she is wise beyond her years and can’t wait to escape the farm life and find success; even if it costs her soul.

Missy Jones, the “heart” of the crew, has the face of an angel and a voice sent from heaven. A pastor’s daughter raised in the church, Missy loves the ministry and her place in it. But the flesh is tempting, especially when it comes in the form of sexy church musician and Mt. Zion playboy Tommy.

In spite of her dedication to the word, Missy falls hard for Tommy, and then falls out of favor with the church. Trapped in a cycle of relationship abuse, Missy’s world is falling apart until Beanie, a reformed stick-up man turned Evangelist, shows her real love. But when tragedy strikes, Missy is torn between the truth, that could jeopardize every-thing she loves, or a lie that could be her damnation.

These three best friends drift away from each other and the church but come back together through spiritual downfall, relationship crises, drug addiction, and even murder. Can the crew survive the drama involved in That Church Life?

Purchase That Church Life Series by Teresa B. Howell



That Church Life 2 by Teresa B. Howell

Childhood friends Missy Jones, Michelle Hanks and Natalia Freemon are about to find their friendship tested like never before…

Missy has experienced the unthinkable. While she tries to be strong in front of her congregation, behind closed doors, she is suffering, and family secrets are haunting her.

Michelle can no longer hide from her bad decisions. Her secrets and personal agenda just might tarnish her life-long friendships for good and cost her everything.

Natalia is starting to see things in a different light—or is she? After years of being single, she feels her youth slipping away, and she’s reached a turning point. Will the friends’ spiritual warfare continue, or will they learn that just because you’re in the church, that doesn’t mean the church is in you?


Purchase That Church Life 2 by Teresa B. Howell


About the Author
Teresa B. Howell is an Educator in Durham, NC. Originally from Boston, Mass, she decided to make her literary appearance in 2015. She continues to write fiction christian suspense novels that are page turners and eye openers for her readers. She is the Author of “That Church Life” and has proven herself to be a creative, unique and suspense filled writer.



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Unfathomable Love by Linda Diane Wattley

Unfathomable Love by Linda Diane Wattley

“Charge of an Angel”, the first of the “Love and Redemption Series”, continues as Leona Tillard, the survivor of an uncensored childhood love, begins her journey into the heart of “Unfathomable Love”.

When Leona graduated from high school, she joined the United States Army.  It was then she learned there was plenty of love to go around; after all, the Army is one place men outnumbered the women.  Her only dilemma was figuring out which love was the best love for her to embrace.

Hearing the words ‘I love you’ heals our souls.  The ironic thing about it, very seldom do two people share the same meaning for love.  This is usually fine until someone else’s meaning of love changes our lives forever.

In “Charge of an Angel”, Leona Tillard asked for your help as she survived her daily childhood nightmare.  Today, she is asking you to help her to choose the right man to love forever.  Do I love the soldiers or do I love my big brother’s best friend?

Sounds like an easy task, doesn’t it?  Trust me, you too just might choose the wrong one.  Let’s see if we can save Leona once again.

Order Unfathomable Love by Linda Diane Wattley
Top Customer Review Written by Cold Coffee
Unfathomable Love (Love and Redemption Series Book 2)

Those of us who read Linda’s book ‘Charge Of An Angel‘ have been waiting to read ‘Unfathomable Love’. Main character Leona Tillard is now a young adult and on a journey to wholeness in her life. How does love factor into this journey and where does God fit into her life?

Meet the people in Leona’s young adult life including some from her childhood. You will be privy to letters and a narrative that might bring up memories of your own. I quote not to spoil the story, but to enlighten you so you will want to read further.

“The next morning when I woke up everyone was gone. According to the note I found in the kitchen, they had gone to the grocery store. As I looked around at our home, my heart was heavy. The pain-free home I once visited had become a place of progressive doom. Dennis and I had brought misery to this house. They called it evil, I called it pure darkness. While I was looking in the refrigerator for something to drink, the home line phone rang. At first, I didn’t want to answer it. I felt like hiding myself for a while, but the phone kept ringing. Reluctantly, I answered it.”

Even the description of Leona’s “Grandma Tillard” might carry you back to your own childhood when a grandmother’s presence and warm embrace brought a sense of belonging, even when you didn’t know how lost you were.

Follow Leona as she graduates high school and joins the Army primarily as an escape. The green uniforms and rigid routines brought some level of isolation, but ultimately a new world emerged. This new world is filled with attractive, buff, single men with desires. The problem, how is she to find the right man and will he embrace love the same way she does?

When you read, allow Leona’s story to waken within your sub-conscious to things that might need a healing touch. Healing is a journey that takes a lifetime to achieve.

I, (Theodocia McLean) endorse ‘Unfathomable Love’ (Love and Redemption Series Book 2). I encourage you to read ‘Charge Of An Angel’ (Love and Redemption Series-Part 1) by Linda Diane Wattley.

Excerpt: Unfathomable Love by Linda Diane Wattley

“Lord God, so much love, help me choose!”

While lying in bed I wondered about the God who created this world. What did this God expect for us to do with our lives after being damaged by the adults around us?  I wasn’t the only one hurt by Bruce. Mark and Dennis had suffered also only they both fled to avoid the pain, but I was still there. Trapped during the horrible wake of what Bruce created.

What did this God expect me to do? Run away, too?  All of this just when I was finally getting a chance to know my mother and real father, why?

As much as I hated it, I felt myself becoming angry with God.

“Leona, Mark wants to talk to you, hurry up he has a class to get to soon!” yelled Mom.

“Here I come,” I yelled down the hall, jumping out of bed.

“Mark, what’s up?  You’re still coming home, aren’t you?” I asked when I took the phone from Mom.

“Calm down, sis. I’ll be there.”

“You better,” I laughed. “So, what’s up?”

“I can sense something is wrong, Leona. What’s going on with you?”

My face grew hot. “What are you talking about Mark? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I know what’s going on.”

I didn’t want to say anything, but he was starting to freak me out.

“Mark, knock it off. What are you talking about?”

He let out a sigh. “I don’t want you to be angry with God,” he finally said.

My mouth fell open with shock. “How did you know? I didn’t tell anybody.”

“You told God. Now just listen to me for a minute.  One day you will understand. When we entered this world, we entered a pre-existing twilight zone. Duality rules here. If you don’t remember anything else, remember this; God is our true Father, and this is all that really matters.”

“Now you sound like the Mark I know and love,” I said with a smile on my face.

“You should feel stronger. In fact, our whole family should feel stronger. This is what happens when a link is empowered with truth.”

“Is it because we’re connected?” I asked.

“Exactly, we make each other weak or strong whether we know it or not. God is with us all the time.  We can’t be disconnected from Him. Whether we acknowledge Him or not, God owns us.”

“So, you’re saying no matter what happens to us, our connection with God keeps us heading right into His plan for our lives?”

“Exactly, wow we feel and think about our lives doesn’t matter. God sees His plan and He doesn’t deviate from it for anybody. To God, everything is on course. Girl, you got me running my mouth. Let me get off this phone. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, Mark!”

While lying in bed I wondered about the God who created this world. What did this God expect for us to do with our lives after being damaged by the adults around us?  I wasn’t the only one hurt by Bruce. Mark and Dennis had suffered also only they both fled to avoid the pain, but I was still there. Trapped during the horrible wake of what Bruce created.

What did this God expect me to do? Run away, too?  All of this just when I was finally getting a chance to know my mother and real father, why?

As much as I hated it, I felt myself becoming angry with God.

“Leona, Mark wants to talk to you, hurry up he has a class to get to soon!” yelled Mom.

“Here I come,” I yelled down the hall, jumping out of bed.

“Mark, what’s up?  You’re still coming home, aren’t you?” I asked when I took the phone from Mom.

“Calm down, sis. I’ll be there.”

“You better,” I laughed. “So, what’s up?”

“I can sense something is wrong, Leona. What’s going on with you?”

My face grew hot. “What are you talking about Mark? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I know what’s going on.”

I didn’t want to say anything, but he was starting to freak me out.

“Mark, knock it off. What are you talking about?”

He let out a sigh. “I don’t want you to be angry with God,” he finally said.

My mouth fell open with shock. “How did you know? I didn’t tell anybody.”

“You told God. Now just listen to me for a minute.  One day you will understand. When we entered this world, we entered a pre-existing twilight zone. Duality rules here. If you don’t remember anything else, remember this; God is our true Father, and this is all that really matters.”

“Now you sound like the Mark I know and love,” I said with a smile on my face.

“You should feel stronger. In fact, our whole family should feel stronger. This is what happens when a link is empowered with truth.”

“Is it because we’re connected?” I asked.

“Exactly, we make each other weak or strong whether we know it or not. God is with us all the time.  We can’t be disconnected from Him. Whether we acknowledge Him or not, God owns us.”

“So, you’re saying no matter what happens to us, our connection with God keeps us heading right into His plan for our lives?”

“Exactly, wow we feel and think about our lives doesn’t matter. God sees His plan and He doesn’t deviate from it for anybody. To God, everything is on course. Girl, you got me running my mouth. Let me get off this phone. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, Mark!”

( Continued… )

© 2017 All rights reserved.  Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Linda Diane Wattley.  Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.

Book purchase website: 

About the Author

Linda Diane Wattley is a proud veteran of the United States Army.  Born in Akron, Ohio attended the University of Akron majoring in Psychology. Over twelve years, a religious/philosophical columnist for the Frost Illustrated Newspaper in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

In 2016, she addressed PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder by writing, “Soldier with a Backpack, Living and Dying Simultaneously” which made her a nominee for the ‘Best in Nonfiction’ during the African American Literary Awards Show.

Currently, she shares her “Love and Redemption Series” a dramatically written series promising to get victims to healing.


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The Supremes Sing the Happy Heartache Blues: A Novel by Edward Kelsey Moore

When a late life love affair blooms between Mr. Forrest Payne, the owner of the Pink Slipper Gentleman’s Club, and Miss Beatrice Jordan, famous for stationing herself at the edge of the club’s parking lot and yelling warnings of eternal damnation at the departing patrons, their wedding summons a legend to town. Mr. El Walker, the great guitar bluesman, comes home to give a command performance in Plainview, Indiana, a place he’d sworn—and for good reason—he’d never set foot in again.

But El is not the only Plainview native with a hurdle to overcome. A wildly philandering husband struggles at last to prove his faithfulness to the wife he’s always loved. And among those in this tightly knit community who show up every Sunday after church for lunch at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat, are the lifelong friends, known locally as “The Supremes” —Clarice, facing down her longing for, chance at and fear of a great career; Barbara Jean, grappling at last with the loss of a mother whose life humiliated both of them, and Odette, reaching toward her husband through an anger of his that she does not understand.

Edward Kelsey Moore’s lively cast of characters, each of whom have surmounted serious trouble and come into love, need not learn how to survive but how, fully, to live. And they do, every one of them, serenaded by the bittersweet and unforgettable blues song El Walker plays, born of his own great loss and love.


Edward Kelsey Moore Book Reviews

“This lusty novel sings with life, saluting friendships through dreams, marriage and long-held secrets.”
—Minneapolis Star Tribune, “Summer Books”

“Moore’s bluesy, breezy novel takes readers through life’s highs and lows and in-between times when no one knows what is coming next; its air of folksy optimism should appeal to fans of Alexander McCall Smith and Fredrik Backman.”
—Library Journal (starred review)

“Edward Kelsey Moore, besides being laugh out loud hilarious, has a profound understanding of human nature. This gift, combined with his clear love and affection for his characters, makes him a truly remarkable writer. This book is a joy to read.”
—Fannie Flagg, author of The Whole Town’s Talking and Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

“Spending time with the Supremes is like slipping into a warm embrace of love and laughter, soul-searching and sass. There’s nothing these three strong women can’t handle, and that includes the legacy of the pain inflicted by fathers to sons, mothers to daughters. Edward Kelsey Moore has crafted a novel that beautifully illustrates the healing power of forgiveness.”
—Melanie Benjamin, author of The Swans of Fifth Avenue and The Aviator’s Wife

“The arrival of Edward Kelsey Moore’s new novel had me singing anything but the blues. Even better cause for celebration? Odette, Clarice, and Barbara Jean are back . . . and what a supreme encore it is!”
Julia Glass, author of A House Among the Trees and Three Junes


Chapter 1 (Excerpt)

It was a love song. At least it started out that way. The lyrics told the tale of a romance between a man and the woman who made his life worth living. Being a blues song, it was also about how that woman repeatedly broke the man’s heart and then repaid his forgiving ways by bringing a world of suffering down on him. The beautiful melody soared and plunged, each verse proclaiming rapturous happiness and gut-wrenching pain. Here, in a church, this piece of music couldn’t have been further outside its natural habitat. But the tune’s lovely mournfulness echoed from the back wall to the baptismal pool and from the marble floor to the vaulted ceiling and settled in as if the forlorn cry had always lived here.

As the song continued and grew sadder with every line, I thought of my parents, Dora and Wilbur Jackson. The blues was Mama and Daddy’s music. Nearly every weekend of my childhood, they spent their evenings in our living room, listening to scratchy recordings of old-timey blues songs on the hi-fi. One of those might have been as sorrowful as the dirge ringing through the church, but I couldn’t recall hearing anything that touched this song for sheer misery.

Mama preferred her blues on the cheerier and dirtier side—nasty tunes loaded with crude jokes about hot dogs, jelly rolls, and pink Cadillacs. The gloomy ballads, like this one, were Daddy’s favorites. I never saw him happier than when he was huddled up with Mama on the sofa, humming along with an ode to agony. He would bob his head to the pulse of the music, like he was offering encouragement to a down-in-the-mouth singer who was sitting right next to him, croaking out his hard luck.

Sometimes, before sending me to bed, my parents would allow me to squeeze in between them. They’ve both been dead for years now, but their bad singing lingers in my memory. And, because I inherited their tuneless voices, I remind myself of my parents every time I rip into some unfortunate melody. Whenever I hear a melancholy blues, I feel the roughness of Daddy’s fingertips, callused by years of carpentry work, sliding over my arm like he was playing a soulful riff on imaginary strings that ran from my elbow to my wrist.

I’d be ordered off to bed when Mama’d had enough of the dreariness and wanted to listen to a record about rocking and rolling and loving that was too grown-up for my young ears.

Even though the song rumbling through the sanctuary would have been a bit dark for Mama’s taste, she’d have loved the singer’s wailing voice and the roller-coaster ride of the melody. And she wouldn’t have let this song go unnoted. If she had been in the church with me, she’d have turned to me and declared, “Odette, your daddy would’ve loved this song. Every single word of it makes you wanna die. I’ve gotta write this in my book.”

My mother’s “book” was a calendar from Stewart’s Funeral Home that she kept in her pocketbook. The cover of the calendar showed a gray-and-white spotted colt and a small boy in blue overalls. They were in a meadow, both of them jumping off the ground in an expression of unrestrained bliss. Above the picture were the words “Jump for Joy,” and below, “Happy thoughts to you and yours from Stewart’s Funeral Home.” Whenever Mama ran into something that she felt was remarkable enough to merit celebration, she wrote a note on that day’s date so she’d never forget it. Read the rest of this entry »


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