SNEAK PEEK | Deadly Charm
Deadly Charm
by Claudia Mair Burney
Rocky showed up at my apartment door with an offer that, in his words, I “no coulda refuse.” Or maybe those were Marlon Brando’s words. I couldn’t be sure. My blond, dreadlocked former pastor slash ex-boyfriend locked me into a stare with those big, brown puppy eyes. He’d puffed out his jowls to utter the Godfather’s most famous line, while grazing his cheek with the back of his fingers—an excruciatingly amiss imitation. I’ve seen newborn babies’ smiles more intimidating.
“You look more like a hamster than a mobster, Rock.”
“Hamsters are cool.”
“But less compelling, you must admit.”
SNEAK PEEK | John’s Quest
The loud banging at Monica Crawford’s front door awakened her. Forcing herself out of bed, she glanced at the clock and saw it was two in the morning.
“I’m coming!”
She ran to the door. Looking through the peephole, Monica saw her little sister Gina smiling at her.
Her heart pounded as she opened the door, gripping the knob. “What are you doing here?” Playing an internal game of tug-of-war, she wondered if she should hug her sister or slam the door in her face. Humid heat rushed into the air-conditioned living room. She stared at Gina, still awaiting her response.
SNEAK PEEK | The Bishop’s Daughter
The Bishop’s Daughter
by Tiffany Warren
Darrin
I’m snatched from my sleep by voices.
They’re coming from the living room. The first voice is Shayna, my lover, although she likes to be called my girlfriend. She is not my girlfriend. Haven’t had one of those since high school.
The other voice is coming from the television. It’s way too loud, but not unfamiliar. I concentrate for a moment until familiarity becomes recognition. The voice belongs to that preacher Shayna likes to watch every Sunday morning.
Is it Sunday already?
SNEAK PEEK | In Charge: Finding the Leader Within You by Myles Munroe
Chapter 1
“I’m In Charge”: The Battery and the Wire
Who’s Got the Power?
“The value in each human is the gift they were born to deliver to humanity”
Which one of these is the most important part of a car: the battery or the terminal wire? You’ve probably never heard of the little red wire that connects the battery to the rest of the engine in the car. If you’re like most people you will say, “The battery. It has the power.”
Your car has about 60,000 parts. The battery says, “I’m in charge of all of them. Nothing starts without me. I’m the battery. I have the power. Power! Power! Power! I’m the one who starts everything. Nothing starts until I arrive. I’m the power. I’ve got the power to start the engine.”
SNEAK PEEK | The Enemy Between My Legs
The Enemy Between My Legs
by Stephanie L. Jones
MY INNOCENCE STOLEN
“The beauty of the past is that it is the past. The beauty of the now is to know it. The beauty of the future is to see where one is going.” ~Unknown
HOW DID I GET HERE?
After all of these years, it’s as clear in my mind as if it happened just last week. I was about five years old, and it was a beautiful summer night. Because the weather was so nice that evening, all of us children were allowed to sleep outdoors in our sleeping bags and make-shift beds. It was a simpler time, and adult supervision wasn’t necessary for such an outing. The memory of his touching me between my legs is so vivid because it was coupled with another embarrassing event; I had peed the bed. I remember lying there wrapped in those wet sheets until the next morning. I don’t know if I was more ashamed of wetting myself or of the abuse that had taken place.
SNEAK PEEK | Heavenly Places
Heavenly Places
bu Kimberly Cash Tate
I told Hezekiah I wanted to live in Potomac or Chevy Chase or North Bethesda, someplace with cachet, where people had money and minded their own business. I didn’t know this for a fact, of course—that they minded their own business—but it sounded good and gave me one more reason to tick off in favor of living there. If I had had my druthers, I wouldn’t have lived anywhere near the D.C. metropolitan area. But if we had to be there, the where had to be Montgomery County, Maryland.
Montgomery County had seasoned money and grand old homes—or, in Potomac, breathtakingly newer homes. Exquisite shopping. And neighbors who would be concerned mostly with themselves and, perhaps, the fleeting question of how another black family amassed enough nickels to break bread among them. They wouldn’t get to know me, I wouldn’t get to know them. And we would revel, the neighbors and I, in perpetual aloofness.
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