Even Sinners Have Souls Too
Introduction by National Best selling author, K’Wan, with four stories by Darrell King and Essence Magazine bestselling authors, Michel Moore, Tysha and Victor L. Martin.

Meet author and editor E.N. Joy
E.N. Joy is the author of Me, Myself and Him, which was her debut work into the Christian Fiction genre. Formerly a secular author writing under the names Joylynn M. Jossel and JOY, this author has fully dedicated her writing to Christ. She is currently working on the “New Day Divas” series as well as completing the “Sinners Series” project.

Intimate Conversation with Ella Curry of EDC Creations

Ella: Introduce us to the book, Even Sinners Have Souls TOO.
E.N. Joy: Even Sinners Have Souls TOO is book two from the “Sinners Series”. As editor and publisher of this project, it was my goal to share with the reading audience well written and compelling stories by some of the industry’s most respected and authority authors in the Urban Lit genre.
 

Ella: Why was it important to produce this work today?
E.N. Joy: Books and authors of books that are categorized as urban, erotic, street, ghetto, gangster, Hip-Hop fiction, or whatever else they are being labeled, are taking hard hits in the industry, especially by these so-called “literary writers”. Why is it that whenever black people bring the life they live front and center and turn it into art, society goes crazy? Are we that afraid and offended of the ghetto and the projects to the point where we ridicule those who talk about it? Is growing up in the hood that taboo?

E.N. Joy: Despite popular belief, everything that comes from the ghetto isn’t all bad. There are some good products of the ghetto. It produces great individuals, some even authors. But because of the type of genre that these authors choose to pen, they are stigmatized and rumored unable to create literature without glorifying a trigger happy, drug dealing thug, or a burgundy micro braid wearing, gum poppin’, promiscuous gold digger, or a television stealing crack head (in addition to at least two curse words per paragraph).
 

Ella: Will this book change how Urban Lit is protrayed as a industry?
E.N. Joy: There is a huge misconception that authors who write Urban Lit, referred to as Street Lit by many, can’t pen a decent story that doesn’t include foul language and explicit sex scenes. These authors are even often accused of glorifying street life. The “Sinners Series” forces critics and skeptics alike to take a different stand when they read the storylines contained in the “Sinners Series.”

Ella: What are some unique aspects of the Sinners Series?
E.N. Joy: Even Sinners Have Souls Too offers more of Urban Lit’s finest take a walk on the other side in book two, Even Sinners Have Souls Too, of the three book Sinners Series. Darrell King and Essence Best-Selling authors, Victor L. Martin, Tysha and Michel Moore bring you four smashing tales, but not before National Best-Selling author, K’Wan, hits you with the powerful introduction, “Oh Sinner Man.”

E.N. Joy: The authors bring to life the same raw and gritty characters found in some of their other works. There are the dope boys, the hood rats, the promiscuity, homosexuality, the gang bangers, abuse, drugs, alcohol, etc…; all the things that exist in real life on the streets. But what makes these tales so phenomenal and unique is that in the midst of it all, just like in real life on the streets, there is also, God, prayer, and sometimes a praying grandmother. What pleased me the most about each and every story is that they never, for one moment, lost their authenticity. The authors still walked away from this project with their street credit, so to speak.

Ella: What impact with the Sinners Series have on the community?
E.N. Joy: The “Sinners Series” is going to shatter the myth about urban and street literature and its authors once and for all. This project is not so that authors have to defend their work, or even compromise it.

The purpose is to show that they are multi-talented with a natural gift to pen what flows through their spirit and not just what’s selling, and at the same time to add a creative twist on their already original writing styles. In doing so, we pray that readers will be touched and moved by every single character; every single story…that they won’t be the same person as they were before reading these works.

Website: www.enjoywrites.com

ISBN-10: 0970672659 | ISBN-13: 978-0970672650

Pick up a copy at Amazon

“Just come open the door. I’m outside your apartment.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The phone landed somewhere as I ran to the door faster than I did before.  This time when I opened it, Sheree stood before me with a long red coat on and a pair of thigh high red boots. She breezed past me and dropped her coat to the floor. The floor mat to the game Twister was wrapped around her body. She unwrapped it and let it fall. No other covering was on her. There was nothing that could do her justice. I closed the door.

“Take off your clothes.”

Without questions my ragged jogging pants and tee shirt came off. We faced each other naked – like a stand off, with her boots giving her more leverage than me.

“I want you to do what I say and do it well. Do you understand?”

My head shook up and down, then again, up and down, then again. I was dizzy within her.

“Go and get the ice bucket.”

Sheree’s voice came to me like a dominatrix in training. She spoke like she had one more test to pass before she could hold the crown. Her voice was forceful, soothing, and pleading from within for love. I listened.When I returned to the room with the bucket as she requested she had spread the mat out, and was standing at one end of it.

“Lay the bucket in the center of the mat on the yellow circle.”

I obeyed.

“Stand in the middle of the mat with my p**** over the bucket.”

As I began to move I heard My, My, My from the CD. I wanted to cry out that I was in love. A figure eight, a coke bottle, her waist, her thighs, her breasts, I, I…I couldn’t believe she stood before me. Her legs were spread a bit and I noticed a small tattoo high on her inner left thigh. I wanted to suck it.

“Left hand blue.”

The blue circle was to my rear so I bent back and placed my hand on it.

“Right hand green.”

The green circle was also to my rear. My bending more to the rear made my middle come down low over the ice bucket. I held my head back and let it hang. My body was open wide to her. She had me. Finally, I was hers.

The touch of her tongue blazed me to my heart. It pumped with anticipation. Sheree was between my legs teaching me how to love us. The ice gliding around me gave me a sensation of hot, cold, cool, and flaming at the same time. My mind ran far and came back close as she gently crawled over my body. My position was the same, my back was inner arched and my legs were open wide. She kissed my chest, my breasts, my belly button, and came back up to my neck. A tear escaped me.

“Right foot red.”

I slid my foot forward not knowing where it was going to end. I didn’t care; I just wanted to please Sheree.

“Left foot yellow.”This time the motion left me laying flat on my back with my eyes facing my baby. We took each other in within a twisted rhythm of euphoric colors. Her tender breasts lay on mine and my tears continued.

“Don’t cry, lover.”

Our lips met. I wrapped my arms around her trying to press her into me. Her hips, her ass, and her back belonged to me. I squeezed them all. My, My, My, our love came in yellow, red, blue, and green. A game so simple, yet so complex. The bucket tipped and a sensation came. More sensations followed. A game that taught me to release my fears in love.

The game taught Sheree to love the one her release is with.  That night we played more than a mere child’s game. We dealt our cards, we rolled our dice, and ultimately we hit the Lotto. We won them all and have never stopped pleasing each other.  We decided that night that we would work on having a relationship. Sheree thought all a relationship consisted of was sex, freaky or not. I didn’t know sex was a major part of one. That was seven years ago. To this day, Sheree makes me proud to say that my rhythm is rated L. 

***************

Alright, that’s it! The excerpt above if from the erotic/romantic short story collection, LuvMe! Get LuvMe as a part of The SEXY Special! Buy Wait for Love: a Black Girl’s Story – LuvMe is FREE! Awww, Lawd, the hot choco-latte is coming! Don’t miss out
Wanda D. Hudson
Wait for Love: A Black Girl’s Story
LuvMe – Because Everybody Needs A Little Luv
Coming Soon – A Sheltered Life
http://www.wandadhudson.com 
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/wandasway
http://www.wandasway.blogspot.com
http://www.cafepress.com/wandasway
http://www.facebook.com/wandadhudson
http://www.twitter.com/@wandaluv
http://www.myspace.com/wandaluv
Contributing Author -
Succulent – Chocolate Flava 2
Purple Panties – An Eroticanoir.com Anthology

I would like to introduce you to a fantastic new book, Color Me Jazzmyne. Readers of Color Me Jazzmyne have been captivated by the depth of the emotional journey that the book takes them on. It digs deep into what it takes for women to embrace who they are no matter what size, color, educational background or social status. Sisters will learn to love themselves despite what society says or the voices that surround them!

Author Marian L . Thomas not only delivers her first novel but takes on real-life topics that are affecting society today. The topics that are discussed throughout her book are ones that are often rejected by mainstream publishing houses. She cuts to the core of serious subject matter: rape, the mental health of young women, self-esteem issues with women and the cutthroat world of the music business and lands the reader into the thick of a good story.

Color Me Jazzmyne – By Marian L. Thomas
Listen to Chapter 1 and tell us how you feel about this topic.
http://www.hudsonaudiopublishing.com/player.php?file=Chapter1.mp3

“Color Me Jazzmyne” is an unconventional, yet fascinating first novel by Marian L. Thomas.  At the frighteningly young age of thirteen, Naya Mona (later to be known as the famous jazz singer Jazzmyne) is raped by her own father and eventually gives birth to her son who is taken from her, his whereabouts unknown for many years. At seventeen, she escapes the intolerable household of her father to live in the city where her voice is discovered by the wrong people.

She meets struggle after struggle; people take advantage of her talent nearly wrecking her spirit, people she thought to be friends use her to get ahead in their own lives. But she does not break spirit, in spite of her many hardships. Later in life, as the story opens up, Jazzmyne meets her adult son for the first time since his birth. Many surprising facts are revealed about her past and her son’s past.

Jazzmyne likens her existence to a box of crayons. Each color expresses a different emotion, strength or weakness that makes up the essence of Jazzmyne. Thomas’ writing is so reflective and interesting.  But this is the purpose of the novel, to find out what color is Jazzmyne, which I still do not know or maybe do not understand her completely. Perhaps honesty is her color. In a world of hiding behind fame and from a past of deception from those who were supposed to be the closest, she wants only to be honest and real, especially concerning her son.

Thomas definitely cuts to the core of serious subject matter: rape and incest and the cutthroat world of the music business. The shocking reality of it all mixed with Jazzmyne’s relaxed and melodious voice makes “Color Me Jazzmyne” a true reading pleasure. The book is written in a kind of free flow, stream of consciousness style that one can hear her melody singing through the pages.

ISBN-10: 0615270670;  ISBN-13: 978-0615270678

Pick up a copy from Amazon , Barnes & Noble.com , or a Kindle download

Email: larrita@lbpublishingco.com ;  Website: http://www.marianlthomas.com

Snippet of a Review by Hudson Audio Publishing
http://www.hudsonaudiopublishing.com/featured.html

Pat G’orge Walker on Gospel Interviews with Larry W. Robinson

Pat G’orge Walker, author of “SOMEBODY’S SINNING IN MY BED” shares with Larry W. Robinson, host of http://www.gospelinterviews.com about her latest book which EXPOSES a Mega Church Pastor CAUGHT “In the Act!!!”
For more visit http://www.gospelinterviews.com

SOMEBODY’S SINNING IN MY BED by Pat G’Orge Walker
ISBN-10: 0758235402 | ISBN-13: 9780758235404
Available wherever books are sold

Pat G’Orge-Walker delivers a wickedly funny, uplifting novel of love and betrayal…good karma and bad karma…sin and redemption

Chyna and her sister Janelle are always moments away from a catfight. They love each other, but Janelle has never forgiven her sister for swiping her first love, Cordell. That was ages ago, and now Chyna is showing off as the First Lady of New Hope Assembly, a church that’s caught between the old ways of Holiness and new ways of serving its community. New Hope’s leader, Reverend Grayson Young, is also caught…in the infamous Sweet Bush lounge, an establishment well-known for adult pleasures.

With the church congregation running wild in the aftermath of her husband’s scandalous behavior, Chyna turns to her sister Janelle for guidance. But if Chyna thinks she’s getting sympathy from Janelle, she’d better think again, because Janelle’s got her own crisis. And when Cordell suddenly comes back into the sisters’ lives, what follows are squabbling, chaos, and surprises that show just how hard the road to salvation really is…

—

“Author Pat G’Orge-Walker is a comic genius! She’s woven a brilliant netting of both comical and loving characters that will cause readers to ’spill their guts’ with ‘out loud’ laughter.”

-Dawn Carter, Fox Pictures Diversity, Executive Producer, Contradictions of the Heart, Donlyn Pictures

One Night with You by Francis Ray New York Times bestselling author Francis Ray continues her captivating series about the Grayson family and their circle of friends with One Night With You, as two people with no plans for romance find themselves blindsided by desire…

One Night with You by Francis Ray New York Times bestselling author Francis Ray continues her captivating series about the Grayson family and their circle of friends with One Night With You, as two people with no plans for romance find themselves blindsided by desire…

Latest Release: One Night with You
November 03, 2009
Series: Grayson Friends Series
ISBN-13: 9780312365066; ISBN-10: 0312365063

When you first started writing, did you think you would ever write as many books as you have and have such a loyal following? Did you know this would become a “business venture” for you?
Francis: I had no idea I would write this many book or have such a loyal following when I started writing. I simply keep trying to write the best book possible, and was blessed to find an editor who kept buying my books. Yes, I always knew that you had to take the business side of writing seriously to stay in this industry for years. It requires a great business head for book promotions and even more professionalism to handle the contracts.

What has been the best and the worst experience you’ve had on your literary journey?
Francis: The best is after I sold my first book, I’ve never had a book that was rejected. The worst was walking away from one publisher and unsure if I’d find another publishing house that wanted my books. Scary. Scary.

How long does it take you to write a novel?
Francis: The time frame differs. I wrote ONE NIGHT WITH YOU, my November 03, release in 3 months. IT HAD TO BE YOU, Book #4 in the Grayson Friends series, and the last book I wrote took six weeks.

Have you always wanted to be a writer?
Francis: No, the writing bug didn’t hit me until I read SHANNA by Katherine Woodewiss. By her third book I knew I wanted to write similar books. The difference was I wanted people of color to take center stage.

How did you get started writing?
Francis: I joined my local chapter of Romance Writers of America, North Texas Romance Writers of America. I’m proud to say I won the first service award, The Yellow Rose. The friendships and mentors were invaluable. I can honestly say that without them I would not be published now.

Do you remember the very first story you ever wrote? What age were you when you wrote it? Was it romance even then?
Francis: I had no idea I wanted to write until Woodewiss’ third book. The first story I wrote was Wife For Hire for Black Romance. I was an adult.

Since romance novels have a pretty set formula that they follow, how difficult do you find it to continue to write stories that will make loyal romance readers overlook that aspect of the book?
Francis: The only set formula I can see is that hero and heroine are at odds, but by the end of the story they’re in love and the writer has tested that love so the reader knows that whatever happens in their lives their love is strong enough to endure. I’d say the possibilities are endless. My plotting skills, not the parameters, is the challenge I face.

Several romance authors have ventured into writing in other genres such as mystery, etc. Have you ever considered taking that step also?
Francis: I wanted to write Christian fiction and was blessed to have been given that opportunity when Harlequin publishes, HOW SWEET THE SOUND. I’ve thought of writing young adult but I haven’t gotten past three pages.

What is your favorite part of the writing process?
Francis: The actual writing is probably my favorite part. Starting a new book is always scary. I plot slow. And despite my best intention, I always have loads of research on my character’s profession, the setting, even the cars they drive..

What is the hardest part of writing for you?
Francis: I guess the hardest part of writing is plotting. If I can’t see it, no matter how wonderful the story might be, I can’t write it.

What challenges have you faced in your literary journey? How did you overcome them?
Francis: Probably the biggest challenge in my literary journey was finding a publisher who wanted to publish African-American romances. Then, when I did find a publisher, distribution was spotty at best. If the book did make it to an outlet, the challenge was getting readers not to think the book was badly written because it was written by an African-American. I overcame the challenge by continuing to write and believing that I had a story to tell that people wanted to read.

What are your best and worst experiences as a writer?
Francis: The best is after I sold my first book I have never had a book that was rejected. The worst was walking away from one publisher and unsure if I’d find another publishing house that wanted my books. Scary. Scary.

What is the one thing that has surprised you the most during your writing career?
Francis: That people think all published authors are wealthy.

What authors influence your work?
Francis: Katherine Woodewiss, Elizabeth Lowell, Amanda Quick, and Nora Roberts.

What are you currently working on?
Francis: I’m working on BECAUSE OF YOU, Book # 6 in the Grayson Friends series.

How may we contact you online?
Website: www.francisray.com
Blogspot: www.francisrayblog.com
Myspace: myspace.com/francisray
Fanclub: readersoffrancisray@yahoogroups.com

Pick up a copy at Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/One-Night-You-Grayson-Friends/dp/0312365063/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1256167034&sr=8-1

Pick up a copy at Barnes and Noble
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/One-Night-with-You/Francis-Ray/e/9780312365066/?itm=3

One Night with You by Francis Ray —Read the First Chapter Excerpt

Link to read full screen:
http://www.docstoc.com/docs/document-preview.aspx?doc_id=13513498

Terrance started a fight with me that morning over my use of water. He said I should pay the water bill, along with the rent, because I was bigger than him and used more of it. It was early and I was cranky from not having much sleep the night before. He had his friends over for an all night party on a Tuesday. None of them had jobs, so no one had anywhere to be but where they were. I didn’t feel like hearing what he had to say, so I replied with a smart quick tongue, hoping to silence him.

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve said to date. I guess you expect me to pay the cable, gas, light, and phone bill as well since your pathetic ass isn’t man enough to do it. Shut up, Terrance. It’s too early for your mouth.”

 My response caught him off guard because his reply to me was that of silence. I started walking towards the bathroom to get dressed when I heard him running up behind me. My face was met with his head when I turned towards him. The fool head butted me. His exact target was my eye. I fell backwards on the floor and grabbed my face in pain. Gray stars and filthy vultures circled my face and moaned a song of gloom; it hurt so bad. While I was on the floor crying and screaming how sick I thought Terrance was, he started kicking me in my back, sides, and face, while yelling in crazy man lingo.

“Don’t you ever talk back to me, you fat, sloppy bitch! Your stupid ass is going to pay every bill that comes into this house whether I have a job or not! Now get your sorry ass up and fix me some breakfast!”

He stopped kicking me and walked away muttering words under his breath that only a psychotic nut would understand. I managed to get up and went into the bathroom to look at my face. My left eye watched my right eye swell up, and my right eye noticed my left eye was red and puffy. My black eyes were on their way.

I took my nightgown off and looked at my stomach in the mirror. It was bruised and I imagined my back was, as well. There was no need to look because I’d felt this way before. I wanted to call into work, but I was already absent two days that week and couldn’t afford to miss anymore. My right eyeball was no longer visible, and I’d have to wear a pair of light colored shades all day as I’d done before. I was at the point of not even bothering to put on makeup to try and cover it up, knowing what I was hiding, as did everyone else. I’m not sure who was who, but I came out of the bathroom to see Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde standing in my living room in the form of Terrance’s body.

“Hey, baby. I have some interviews to go on today, so I’ll drop you off at work. I put your purse and jacket in the car, and I want to stop and grab you some breakfast, so hurry your sweet self up.” He walked out the door and I stood in the middle of the room waiting for an answer. Someone needed to tell me Terrance was sick and I wasn’t the person that had his cure. Sure, I had the answer; I just didn’t feel like talking to myself.

************************************************

Alright, yah’ll! It’s about to go down! Did you order your copy yet? The SEXY Special is still in effect! Buy Wait for Love: A Black Girl’s Story – LuvMe is FREE! Mmmm, I smell hot chocolate

Wanda D. Hudson Wait for Love: A Black Girl’s Story

LuvMe – Because Everybody Needs A Little Luv

Coming Soon – A Sheltered Life

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Contributing Author – Succulent – Chocolate Flava 2

Purple Panties – An Eroticanoir.com Anthology

 Meet Multi-Award Winning Author… Kimberley White
Kimberley White resides in metropolitan Detroit where she is a nurse practitioner during the day and a writer of steamy romances at night.  Visit her website at www.kwhitewrite.com.  Write to her at P.O. Box 672 Novi, MI 48376. Email: kwhite_writer@hotmail.com

I Need More by Kimberley White – New Release Blog
http://edcmagazine.blogspot.com/2009/10/all-way-by-kimberley-white.html

I Need More by Kimberley White
Paperback; ISBN-13: 9780758222107; ISBN 10: 0758222106
 

She Has Everything She Wants. . .
Dr. Erika Johnson’s life couldn’t get any better. Her practice is flourishing and her hunk of a husband Brock can’t keep his hands off her–until the day he suddenly leaves her without a word of explanation. Stunned, Erika has no choice but to cobble together a new life on her own. When she serves Brock with divorce papers, Erika is certain he’ll sign them so they can both move on. But that’s when the surprises really begin. . .

Except The Man She Loves…
Brock is sure he did the right thing. All he ever wanted was to bring joy into Erika’s life, not pain and sorrow. But when rumors reach him that Erika is seeing another man, he’s torn between what he thinks is right and what he feels is right. Despite everything, there’s no denying the fierce attraction she and Brock have always shared is burning hotter than ever. And when Erika finally learns Brock’s secret, they must decide if they will face the uncertain future together-or apart. . .
 

Preview Chapters from the book here.
 
Buy the book today!

Different times call for different initials. Most of us remember the catchy hook; yea, you know me. Well, it can surely fit today. I’m down with NPP! The Noble Peace Prize was awarded to our President Barack Obama! Next phrase – are you ready for some football?

Is it sad to say that our President now has to stick diligently to a plan for every move he makes? Stick to the playbook, Sir, because if you sneeze during a speech at the United Nations, a statement will be released detailing the severity of it. Aww, Lawd, he got the swine! He’s trying to infect his views on the world! Impeach is ass! After all, a Nobel Peace Prize winner does not have any flaws. Some say he won to soon – he hasn’t done anything. I guess they weren’t on the nominating committee.

We all live history; some of it is printed in text books, most of it isn’t. This particular day, Friday October 9th, 2009, is a part of my minds legacy. See, on this day I volunteered at a fund raiser for Northeast Public Radio – NPR. I was a part of the valiant personnel who answered telephones, and recorded pledges from people who desired to keep NPR going strong. Giving up money in a recession? Some folks need to mind their own recession business and stop inflecting negative views on others – just my opinion. Broke isn’t always Poor. Poor isn’t always Po’. Yah’ll know what I’m saying…

The enthusiasm that filled the room was amazing. Not just for seeing the station reach its goal, but also for our President winning the Nobel Peace Prize. I received calls from people pledging amounts that ranged from twenty-five dollars to one thousand dollars. Amazing. The part of the pledgers and my conversation that made me feel validated was not the fact that they so effortlessly divulged personal information, but that they wanted to leave a comment to be read over the air – name included. They wanted people to know that they enjoyed the station AND that they were so proud of OUR President for being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

I noticed that I was the only black volunteer during the time that I was there, which was between the hours of 8am and 3pm. There were maybe 25-40 people in room at various times. Did they notice, too? I’m sure they did, but I got the vibe that on that day it didn’t matter. The more things stay the same, the more they change. I know, I said it “backwards” but I meant it moving forward. Many times I have been the only black person in the room and it mattered, and it was noticed. I filled the quota. Somebody’s job had been done.

Twenty years later I wasn’t a quota – I was a welcomed addition to a cause. A cause to keep an informative station on the air, and a valuable asset to show that we as a people desire the same things. Validation. Shoot, I want a cup of coffee and a donut for breakfast sometimes just like everyone else. I want to provide for my family and have job security just like everyone else. I want to commend our President on his achievement just like everyone else.

I do believe that certain things will always be present between races. There are differences that, well, make us different. It’s okay. Racism, hmm, well, it exists. To finally physically see people of a different race applaud and rally behind a man that my race let the world borrow because he is ours, is incredible. WE (and WE encompasses yah’ll, too) voted for him. WE support him through all adversity. WE all are united and can sing the jingle proudly – You Down With NPP? Yea, you know me!

Wanda D. Hudson
Wait for Love: A Black Girl’s Story
LuvMe – Because Everybody Needs A Little Luv
Coming Soon – A Sheltered Life
http://www.wandadhudson.com
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/wandasway
http://www.wandasway.blogspot.com
http://www.cafepress.com/wandasway
http://www.facebook.com/wandadhudson
http://www.twitter.com/@wandaluv
http://www.myspace.com/wandaluv
Contributing Author -
Succulent – Chocolate Flava 2
Purple Panties – An Eroticanoir.com Anthology

The Making of In the Land of Cotton by Martha A. Taylor

Hello Martha!  It is such a pleasure to have you on The Black Authors Network author’s tour. The Give the Gift of Knowledge tour is used to expand the variety of books that our readers receive each month. Your book is a welcomed edition. Tell us a little about you and your passion for writing.
MAT:  I am a sixty year old grandmother of four. My writing career, until the last few years, has been one of those “don’t quit your day job arrangements”. I am a  tax professional who discovered early on that my creative writing skills came in handy when writing client letters to the IRS.  My passion for writing becomes evident in my books. It is a blessed opportunity to give birth to a character and watch them grow throughout the development of the story.

 Introduce  us to the story behind  the book, In the Land of Cotton:

MAT: As a child growing up in Memphis I could not have known that the Boyd family, the main characters in In the Land of Cotton, would have such a haunting effect on me. Last fall, their indelible personas became overwhelming. They were all I could think about. I sat down one afternoon and the book began to flow to paper. I still had vivid memories of Cypress Grove, a primitive farm the Boyd family had lived on since the days of the Civil War. They had no electricity, no running water and certainly no refrigeration yet they wanted for nothing. It was a step back in time but, as a child, I wanted to be part of that. As the reader journeys through the 1960’s, they travel along side the Boyd family as they experience the historic events of that decade. You will find as a reader that you will become immediately vested in the characters. The Boyd’s have the voice for every Black American that lived through those turbulent times.

We would like to explore some of the Intimate moments in the book. Read on as Martha takes us inside.

Martha, in your own words, tell us why this book was meant to be written.
MAT: In the Land of Cotton is a provocative and emotional chronicle of a young, inquisitive white girl coming of age in the color divided South of the fifties and sixties. My story places you smack dab in the middle of the Civil Rights Movement. It’s a heart-felt journey through American history that weaves a tale of forbidden friendships, misconceptions and human nature… human nature at its best and worst. 

 After all of these years I suddenly became compelled to write the story of Silas and his family. I wanted this new generation to know that it hasn’t been that long since black families lived in seclusion with no electricity…no running water or sanitation…no telephones or refrigeration. My heart is always in my words as I define that sole-mates are forever and true love..really is colorblind.  I wanted to remind the people of my generation of how long this journey has been; and to the younger generations, I wanted to present a time capsule of events so they would never forget the anguish, fear and tremendous sacrifices of their ancestors. In light of this year’s Presidential Election, In the Land of Cotton defines a beacon of hope for any individual, who has ever felt different or longed for more out of life.

Beside Lucy, the part-time maid for the family,  what made you so drawn to the woods? MAT:  It was the “not knowing”. It was the excitement of going somewhere no white person had ever been. It was the wanting to belong to something bigger than myself.   (Snippet From Cotton) Not smoke like the woods was on fire but smoke like came out of a fireplace; soft, mesmerizing smoke that called you to come explore the woods, smoke that carried your imagination and made promises of a different life, far far away from the one you were living.  

When did you know you were in love with Silas your childhood friend? MAT: One evening after Silas walked me back to the “white neighborhood.” We were always terrified someone would see us. It would have been tragic. Silas, who was an African American male, could have been killed but, we always took the chance.   (Snippet  From Cotton) I stood there holding my bike like some anchor that tethered me to the ground I was standing on. I watched Silas until he completely disappeared into the woods then waited a few more minutes after that, in case he returned.    

At the peek of the Civil Rights Movement when did you realize there still remained tension between the North and the South? MAT:  When martial law became the order of the day. When southern Governors stood chained to university doorways. When buses were bombed and almost daily we heard about some southern Black school that had been burned.   (Snippet  From Cotton) Martial law was declared in the South. Robert Kennedy, the Attorney General got involved and once again, Walter Cronkite had a television camera in every nook and cranny, capturing every slur and clubbing. For days he regurgitated the entire travesty right into our living rooms. The majority of country was enraged but here in the south, it was just another day in Dixie.    

Did Silas share your feelings and deep emotional bond? MAT:  Silas always appreciated the unspoken line in the sand. Inter-racial marriages were against the law in most states and prejudice ran high. “The Dream” was spoken of often by everyone; trouble was it was totally out of everyone’s reach and we all knew it.   (Snippet  From Cotton) We finished our picnic with small talk about his daily routine and the friends he’d met. Even Silas used color as a first descriptor. We were a long way from Martin Luther King’s dream. We were certainly a long way from mine.  

Was there a sense that time was short for you and the Boyds? Did you feel complete racial equality would ever be realized

? MAT:  The country had come so far in such a short period of time I knew we had reached the point of no return. Civil Rights and racial equality were marching through the streets of the South. At the same time, I felt it would be generations before racial equality would become the way of life.   (Snippet  From Cotton) I thought about what Lucy had said about poverty being generational. I thought the advancement of civil rights would most probably be generational also.

I thought that the Wallace’s (Governor of Alabama) of the world would eventually die off and each generation that followed would be raised to be less prejudice. I thought surely at some point all the seedlings that had been planted would eventually grow into strong trees and under their branches we would all live in harmony. I hoped that would be in Silas and my lifetime.  

Thank you Martha for sharing with us!  How may the readers contact you?
Martha A. Taylor, Author, “In the Land of Cotton”
Email: Taylortsg@Aol.com ISBN:978-1432734718

Purchase is In the Land of Cotton by Martha A. Taylor from Amazon

Join Author Monique D. Mensah on a virtual tour…

EDC Creations and the Sankofa Literary Society announces the official virtual book tour of Monique D. Mensah, the award-winning author of the dramatic fiction, Who Is He To You. From September 1 to October 30, 2009, follow Monique D. Mensah on an interesting journey all over the Internet from the comfort of your home. Readers will be intrigued by the intelligent exploration of sensitive issues such as cutting, emotional abuse, depression, and drug-addiction.The first page which is filled with intense emotion and a descriptive setting that pulls the reader right into the scene. This virtual book tour is brought to you by EDC Creations Media Group. To learn more about our virtual tours, visit  www.EDC-Creations.com.

Give the Gift of Knowledge Campaign

EDC Creations announces the launch of the 2009-2010 Give the Gift of Knowledge Campaign, bringing readers and authors together to help improve literacy and change lives through the gift of books. A sincere thank you to all of our tour hosts, wonderful readers and book club members who continue to support us and our authors and business owners. During our travels, we meet so many wonderful people and we look forward to meeting more of you, and getting to know you and providing what you need to satisfy your literary appetite. If you have not done so already, please sign up for our newsletter to stay abreast of new literary events and the latest book news, reviews and author tours. We select 4 newsletter subscribers each week to review newly released books for us. Register here for the  Sunday News from EDC Creations.

Prizes for Bloggers and Reviewers

We offer special gifts for those who support the authors during our Intimate Evening reading series on BAN Radio and to those who respond to the posts! To become eligible to win 1 of 5 copies of Who Is He To You by Monique Mensah, follow author Monique Mensah on her virtual tour and leave comments at the blog stops and interviews. The lucky winners will be announced on EDC Creations’ Black Pearls magazine blog on November 7, 2009!    http://www.blogtalkradio.com/Black-Author-Network

Read Chapter 1 Who Is He To You by Monique Mensah 

How to Join the  Who Is He To You Book Tour

If you would like to follow the Who Is He To You virtual book tour, visit theonline media center frequently at http://www.blackpearlsmagazine.com/moniquemensah.htm  for the tour schedule. Meet her on the sites listed and add your comments or reviews. If you would like to host author Monique Mensah on your site, blog, radio show or magazine, please visit the online media center and select promotional material that will Give the Gift of Knowledge to your network.
 
Thank you all for Giving the Gift of Knowledge! Make sure to check out our bookshelves for gifts and books that change lives!

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Ella Curry, president of EDC Creations
Website: www.edc-creations.com

A child’s favorite pastime during summer months is the infamous ice cream truck. To hear the delightful bell, horn, or looped melody approaching causes a thunderous amount of unexplainable joy. The feeling is one that never leaves your senses. As an adult, even after the onset of lactose intolerance, one still feels a slight urgency to purchase one or two scoops.

Having a small child means you must have money each time the top ten melody goes into rotation. Recently my family changed zip codes, but in all of my sexy years on this earth, I have only known Mr. Softee. A blue and white truck with a cool looking cone dressed up to every child’s fancy.  Mr. Softee definitely isn’t prejudiced, he serves everybody. You don’t need a number, just get in line and watch your toes – eager children could care less about your twenty-five dollar pedicure.

 The truck is equipped for the hearing impaired – the loud top ten hit that can be heard from miles away, and the blind. – the looped music that continuously plays over and over, so don’t worry if you make a few wrong turns – keep tapping that walking stick until you find it.

 My new zip code doesn’t include Mr. Softee but the new and improved text message aged Mr. Ding-a-Ling! WHAT? Yes, Mr. Ding-a-Ling! Is it just me or when you read this did your mind go kiddie playground porn-tastic?

 The first time I saw the truck thankfully I was alone. The laughter that exploded from me! My goodness, a person laughing alone could be categorized as a bad drug mix. “Oh, she must have taken some of the good stuff’” is the statement that I looked like.

 Am I a horny woman looking for a quick orgasm at each corner? Hmmm, I don’t think so. The thought that ran through my mind after my laughter subsided was, “And we wonder why our kids feel that oral sex isn’t sex! We hear the dayum bell and they run to the truck with our money to get their licks on!”

 Yesterday Mr. Ding-a-Ling stopped on the street that we live on. My daughter and I ran down the stairs, but unfortunately he pulled off before we made it. My child cried an anguished, “No!” and continued to cry as we made it back up the stairs. It took me at least ten minutes to console her. My untold thought, “Shit, I didn’t want you licking none of his stuff anyway.”

 Mr. Ding-a-Ling had his way. He returned three hours later. I heard him, grabbed my wallet, yelled out to Doobah, “Come’on!” and dayum near broke my neck getting down the stairs. Doobah yelled, “Don’t leave me!’ but I was already down the stairs on the sidewalk. Mr. Ding-a-Ling would not leave us this time.

 Maybe I am a horny woman. Although Mr. Softee is the keeper of some of my life’s most fond memories, I really don’t want to meet a man that proudly says, “Hi, my name is Mr. Softee.” Mr. Ding-a-Ling is straight to the point. That name on an ice cream truck, though, for me, keeps me asking, Uhm What Are You Selling?

Wanda D. Hudson

www.wandadhudson.com

Okay, WHY is the ice cream truck called Mr. Ding-a-Ling? And we wonder why our kids feel that oral sex isn’t sex! We hear the dayum bell and they run to the truck with our money to get their licks on…LuvPing is SEXY!

LuvTweet, LuvPress, LuvSpace, LuvBlog and now LuvPing! Dayum…It’s all SEXY!

Long time no see, where have you been? These are a few of the questions that I have been asked lately. I usually answer that I have been here, but there is no set definition of my here. The middle of last year crashed for me. Many of you know that I lost my father on June 4th, 2008. Within weeks shortly thereafter my life began to collapse. There were no battery cables to hook up to for a reviving jump.

There is a paragraph in my first novel, Wait for Love: A Black Girl’s Story that details the characters feelings on grief. I had never experienced grief, and wrote it believing that her reactions were how someone would feel. The words were on point. Your mind wanders; your heart aches, and you continue to break down while hateful blood churns through your veins. Bluntly put, that shit hurts.

My 2008-2009 has been difficult. I lost my drive to write or to do anything productive for my personal gain. The post below mentions my daily routine. That particular routine came to an end in late June. That was it – I had enough. I will always miss my daddy, but grief can kiss my ass. I’m so sick of it handling me like I’m a foolish punk. It told me what to say, when to say it, and when to shut my mouth. It allowed me to tolerate behavior that is absolutely unacceptable in my professional, and personal life.

Why do people do you dirty? Why do people set out to do you dirty? Why do people think that you don’t know they did you dirty?  Some of the things I put up with – please… This post is not written to belittle anyone or bring negativity to light. A few months ago I let it go. My life was tired of waiting on me. The inner turmoil that I caused myself was enough stress for three strokes. I thought my child would find me dead and there would be no one here for her.

We all suffer through something. As long as we have the ability to get THROUGH it, we can continue to prosper. Some of us don’t. Wallowing in misery and blaming everyone else was simply not it for me. My father died. I said it. I knew he was sick, I knew he was going to die, but I didn’t want him to. My father died. I said it again and I’m okay. I can still function on this earth. I can still be here and not feel guilty because he isn’t. I still love him.

Coming to grips with the fact that life will roll on whether you can hang or not was rough. I have struggled financially, mentally and physically. Making the wrong decisions, whew, that gets old. The past ten years have been a serious lesson. I was scored on a curve and barely passed. I’ll never say I may be black, I may be ugly – we love you Celie, but I’m still here. I’m SEXY, I’m talented, and I’m still here.

Sometimes when we make a purchase there is a small piece of paper inside of the item with an inspectors number on it. If there is a problem with the item you can exchange it or get your money back, but you may never meet the inspector. I was Inspected by God; you can’t exchange me and I‘m priceless. My inspector is available whenever I need Him.

I’ve been stretched to the limit and have returned better than before. I’m not refurbished, damaged or rebuilt. Just upgraded. The original version gets the job done; this version – keep breathing and you may understand. When you step out on faith, He takes all of your doubts, fears and mistakes. He will forgive you.

The SEXY One has been Inspected by God; are you ready? 

Wanda D. Hudson
Wait for Love: A Black Girl’s Story
LuvMe – Because Everybody Needs A Little Luv
Coming Soon – A Sheltered Life
http://www.wandadhudson.com 
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/wandasway
http://www.wandasway.blogspot.com
http://www.cafepress.com/wandasway
http://www.facebook.com/wandadhudson
http://www.twitter.com/@wandaluv
http://www.myspace.com/wandaluv
Contributing Author -
Succulent – Chocolate Flava 2
Purple Panties – An Eroticanoir.com Anthology

AUTHOR BIO

She also edited and contributed to the anthology Age Ain’t Nothing but a Number: Black Women Explore Midlife, which was published in the U.S. (Beacon Press) and the U.K. (Souvenir Press). She is author of Lead Me Home: An African American’s Guide Through the Grief Journey (Avon/HarperCollins). Her book Walk Tall: Affirmations for People of Color, an Essence bestseller, was in print with traditional publishers for 10 years and sold 100,000 copies. It is currently available through iUniverse and Louis Gossett Jr.’s Eracism Foundation. Carleen and her husband live in Colorado.

Book Intro
Trish Taylor’s white ancestry never got in the way of her love for her black ex-husband, or their mixed race son, Will. But when Trish’s marriage ends, she returns to her family’s Denver, Colorado home to find a sense of identity and connect to her past. What she finds there shocks her to the very core: her mother and newborn sister were not killed in a car crash as she was told. In fact, her baby sister, Billie Cousins, is now a grown woman; her grandparents had put her up for adoption, unwilling to raise the child of a black man. Billie, who had no idea she was adopted, wants nothing to do with Trish until a tragedy in Billie’s own family forces her to lean on her surprisingly supportive and sympathetic sister. Together they unravel age-old layers of secrets and resentments and navigate a path toward love, healing, and true reconciliation.

Children of the Waters: A Novel by Carleen Brice
One World/Ballantine; Price $14.00
Pub date: June 23, 2009 ISBN: 978-0345499073

EXCERPT: PROLOGUE

They were coming for her, Jocelyn and John, her husband, both dead. She dreamed of them so much now that sometimes she could swear they were really here in this room, whispering their secrets to her. They were coming for her. If they weren’t already here, she knew they were just over the other side waiting. And even though she was only sixty years old and her granddaughter Trish was only seventeen, she was ready to join them. But she had one last thing she had to do. She had secrets of her own to tell. She looked at the Polaroid picture she’d kept hidden for thirteen years.

Not even John knew she had proof of this moment. There was Jocelyn, blond and movie-star gorgeous even after just giving birth, holding the baby, only hours old with a cap of thick dark hair. And Trish, smiling wide, skin, teeth and hair white as cream, on the hospital bed next to them. Both girls marked with a stain that couldn’t be washed away. Maxine wished she had done things differently. But wishes are for the living. She sighed and pain rippled through her as her lungs pushed up against the battlefield of her ribs and the space where her left breast used to be. She raised the pen with the same amount of exertion that it used to take to lift a gallon of milk and began to write. The nurse said don’t worry. But how could she not?

What would they think of her? Would they hate her or would they be glad to know the truth? Probably both. But she would do this one last thing for them. She would make things right. As soon as Trish came home, Maxine would give her the letter. I should have told you this a long time ago, she wrote to her granddaughter, putting everything that was in her battered heart onto the page so that when the time came cowardice wouldn’t seal her lips. Each word, a lifetime. Just as she finished, she heard the front door open and close. Or she thought she did. Lately it was hard to tell what sounds were real and what sounds were memories sweeping over her like ocean waves.

But if it was Trish coming in, Maxine knew she did not have the strength to see the look on her granddaughter’s face after she read this letter. She didn’t have the strength to answer the question she knew would come no matter how hard she tried to explain: How could you? She opened the box, put the letter and photo inside, and replaced the lid. After she was gone, Trish would find everything she needed to know. When Maxine was buried, her lies would be unearthed. It wouldn’t be long now. She was sipping life from a glass that was neither half empty, nor half full, a glass emptying so rapidly she could see it in the eyes of the hospice nurses and the few friends who came to visit her at home.

The bedroom door opened, and Trish poked her head in. “Nana, you awake?” Maxine nodded, thinking For now, and, Please God let them forgive me.

——————

Carleen Brice, Author of Children of the Waters, June 2009 www.carleenbrice.com