“The Color of Our Sky: A Novel” by Amita Trasi

September 13, 2017September 13, 2017 ~ Felicia Denise ~ Leave a comment

$1.99 at the time of posting!

Color of Our Sky cover

“The Color of Our Sky: A Novel“

Genre: Literature & Fiction/Asian-American/Indian

Release Date: April 18, 2017

In the spirit of Khaled Hosseini, Nadia Hashimi, and Shilpi Somaya Gowda comes this powerful debut from a talented new voice—a sweeping, emotional journey of two childhood friends in Mumbai, India, whose lives converge only to change forever one fateful night.

India, 1986: Mukta, a ten-year-old village girl from the lower caste Yellama cult has come of age and must fulfill her destiny of becoming a temple prostitute, as her mother and grandmother did before her. In an attempt to escape her fate, Mukta is sent to be a house girl for an upper-middle class family in Mumbai. There she discovers a friend in the daughter of the family, high spirited eight-year-old Tara, who helps her recover from the wounds of her past. Tara introduces Mukta to an entirely different world—one of ice cream, reading, and a friendship that soon becomes a sisterhood.

But one night in 1993, Mukta is kidnapped from Tara’s family home and disappears. Shortly thereafter, Tara and her father move to America. A new life in Los Angeles awaits them but Tara never recovers from the loss of her best friend or stops wondering if she was somehow responsible for Mukta’s abduction.

Eleven years later, Tara, now an adult, returns to India determined to find Mukta. As her search takes her into the brutal underground world of human trafficking, Tara begins to uncover long-buried secrets in her own family that might explain what happened to Mukta—and why she came to live with Tara’s family in the first place.

Moving from a traditional Indian village to the bustling modern metropolis of Mumbai, to Los Angeles and back again, this is a heartbreaking and beautiful portrait of an unlikely friendship—a story of love, betrayal, and, ultimately, redemption.

#Review “Black and White” by Ben Burgess, Jr.

September 13, 2017September 13, 2017 ~ Felicia Denise ~ Leave a comment

On Monday, September 11th, “Black & White” by Ben Burgess #Review” ran through my blog without the review. Oops! Evidently, I added it to the queue without adding the review and never double checked. This post contains the review. Really. It does. Read it. 😉

Black & White cover

Title: Black and White

Author: Ben Burgess, Jr.

Genre: Literature & Fiction/Suspense/Legal

Release Date: June 21, 2017

5/5 Stars!

Excellent Story on Real-World Problems!

Incredible read.

While a work of fiction, the scenarios played out in Black & White felt real.

Extremely real.

The author did a great job of dissecting multiple viewpoints and putting them on display. Even minor characters were well-developed.

A bigoted white law firm lands two huge cases—a black rapper accused of a quadruple murder (including two cops), and a white NBA star accused of raping a black stripper. Dangling a partnership as bait, the firm assigns the rapper’s case to Ben Turner… who’s also black; and the ball player’s case to Bill O’Neil… also white.

Let the games begin.

Both young men are determined to win and claim the partnership.

Despite their obvious differences, these two men had more than enough in common to be good friends—especially with Ben’s white girlfriend, Becky, and Bill’s black girlfriend, Ebony.

But that wasn’t the case. Preconceived notions, personal biases, and LIFE, itself make Ben and Bill adversaries. Combined with the personal drama of each of their lives, both men were fighting uphill battles battling the perceptions which guided their lives.

The son of two judges, privileged Ben dealt with being accused of “acting white”, “not being black enough”, “and never being good enough.” As a black woman, I completely understood Ben’s struggle, however, I felt he was too consumed with always trying to prove himself. Not saying Ben was wrong, by any means, but I believe he would have been happier if he spent more time living his life instead of constantly playing a role. Ben wanted to be seen as a good man and a good attorney without the element of race overshadowing everything he did. He would have saved himself a lot of grief and heartache by realizing nothing you do can or will change people. They have to want to change and invest in it.

Ben’s girlfriend, Becky, also worried about how people viewed her. Rebellious from a young age, Becky only sought to be taken seriously and respected by her white, wealthy family… which was never going to happen. Becky’s father, Steven Preston, considered himself nothing more than a pragmatist about race, but honestly, all he was missing was a hood and burning cross. I believe Becky loved Ben but allowed her father to overrule her too often because she still wanted his approval.

Gabby, Ben’s best friend, was also a piece of work. Once the object of Ben’s affection, all Gabby ever did was push him away, figuring he’d always be there. When Ben finally moves on with a relationship with Becky, Gabby becomes bitter, mean, and unkind. Her close friendship with Ben brings Gabby and Becky together often and Gabby doesn’t miss a chance to show or voice her disapproval of their interracial coupling.

I didn’t like Becky or Gabby. Not because of their personal views or opinions, but their personalities. Becky needed to get a spine and walk upright, and Gabby needed to shut up. She considered herself up front and “real” but Gabby was over-the-top rude and arrogant. I must give Becky props though for the scene where Gabby tells her black people cannot be racists and Becky stands her ground and schools her.

Bill’s life had been the opposite of Ben Turner’s. Abandoned by his father, he and his chronically ill mother found affordable housing… and eventually acceptance and family in Kew Gardens, a poor, black housing project. Bill overcame a lot as the only white kid in a black neighborhood, but I felt he was honest in his efforts and not simply just trying to get by. Bill’s friendship with Akeem and relationship with Akeem’s twin sister, Ebony, prove his character. He was genuine and not playing a role…at least not until he went to work at Wayne, Rothstein, and Lincoln.

After losing her brother to street violence, Ebony became a cop to help institute and implement change. She ended up mired in frustration and confusion when her own people saw her as part of the problem and hated her as much as they did white cops. Ebony also questioned her relationship with Bill—her first and only boyfriend—when she becomes attracted to a black male at work.

Add in Reggie and Johnny, the two men at the heart of each court case, and Black & White is a hot pot of racism about to boil over.

The author does an excellent job at maintaining balance in the story. No one is all right or all wrong. People are the sum of their experiences… mostly. That being said, Bill was the only main character I liked. While not an innocent, I felt his motivations were the most real and the purest. I also liked Simone, Ben’s cousin raised by his parents. Her dysfunctional background and issues with abandonment led her to look for love… and acceptance in all the wrong places. I understood the other characters and their motivations… I just didn’t like them.

Black & White is well-written and developed. The multiple viewpoints are not distracting but served to pull the reader further into the story. Grammatical and editing errors are minor and do not take the reader out of the story.

The quote from To Kill a Mockingbird which opens the story perfectly sums up the story’s theme. A work of fiction, Black & White is still an accurate commentary on the conversations about race NOT being had today. Not because we’re afraid of admitting our fears and prejudices about other races, but we’re afraid to accept certain truths about ourselves.

This is a must-read and I highly recommend it.

Enjoy!

Synopsis

When the prestigious law firm of Wayne, Rothstein, and Lincoln catches two major cases—a rape case where a White NBA star allegedly raped a Black stripper, and a murder case where a Black rapper allegedly killed a gay couple and two policemen—Bill O’Neil and Ben Turner are tasked to handle these racially charged litigations. The cases hit emotional chords with the two lawyers and force them to reckon with their interracial relationships and families. Will the racial tension of their cases destroy them or make them stronger?

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Kindle Unlimited

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~ Author Bio ~

Ben Burgess, Jr. is the author of the award-winning novels Monster, Wounded, Love and Happiness, Daddy’s Girl, and the new novel Black and White. He is an active performer of spoken word poetry.

Ben uses his love of writing to inspire and influence youths to strive for what they believe in and to never give up on their dreams. His novels Monster and Wounded are currently used in schools on the lower east side of Manhattan.

Ben Burgess has a BA degree in Business Management and an MA degree in Educational Leadership. He is the proud father of his daughters Jaelynn and Jaclyn and he is active in trying to improve urban neighborhoods and communities.

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~ Author Links ~

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“Touched” by Mara White #ChapterReveal

September 13, 2017September 12, 2017 ~ Felicia Denise ~ Leave a comment

-Does your sister let you touch her, Gemini?
-Barely, but, yes, more than anyone else. I remember even in preschool when the teacher would grab her hand, she’d stare at the spot where their skin connected as if it were an affront to her existence. Just stand there and glare like she wanted to hurt someone.
-Junipera suffers from a rare phobia.
-Please, what does June not suffer from?
-When did she start chasing storms?
-In third grade she started obsessing about the rain. Full blown? I’d say after hurricane Katrina she never looked back. And she didn’t just chase them, June became those wild storms.

Junipera and Gemini Jones, Irish twins born during the month of June, survive a childhood of neglect and poverty by looking out for one another. Destined for a group home, the girls are rescued by a rich aunt and uncle who move them from Northern Minnesota to Fairfield, Connecticut. One sister thrives while the other spins out of control. A violent assault leaves Gemini searching for clues, but what she finds might be questions that are better left unanswered.

Coming September 25th

August 28th, 2005

June drove almost all night. The farthest south she’d ever been was Oklahoma, going after a tornado, and she’d flown past the Louisiana state line around four in the morning. She wasn’t exactly sure where she would stay since she’d heard on the radio that all of greater New Orleans had been placed under a mandatory evacuation order. Experience told her that there would be at least one hotel open downtown where reporters were holed up. She’d followed their lead before, pretending to be chasing the story and not the storm. They usually had the best intel and she would leech off of them if she could. The storm had been given a name when she turned into a hurricane—Katrina, they called her, and she’d become a category three when she hit land in Florida. But now she had free rein over warm open water. That meant her hunger would gain and when she touched Louisiana, she’d do it with a vengeance. She was expected to hit land around six in the morning, as a category five. June had never actually seen a five before, but she knew roofs, cars and trees would go flying through the air like paper dolls, sucked up into the vortex and spit out indiscriminately.
Traffic snaked away from the Gulf in impossibly long lines of chrome and glass, rubber tires packed full of momentum wishing they could go faster. June had the speed they wanted as hers was one of the very few cars racing in the opposite direction. She came down I-55, and when she hit the I-10 bypass, the seriousness of the evacuation became apparent. Anyone who could was getting the hell out of New Orleans.
Storm excitement felt very much like a hormone—tipsy, punch-drunk and out of control. June got high off the anticipation; she tuned out the radio and the long line of evacuees and listened to the storm. She spoke its language. June lowered the windows in the Beamer so she could feel the pressure in the air. Her blood surged in her body like the ocean tides do in response to its pull. Her extremities tingled; so did her nose. She could taste the storm on the tip of her tongue, like a spike, a live wire, a sharp blade laced with coppery blood. Katrina called to her and June’s thigh muscles quivered.
June laid into the gas. Sometimes municipal law enforcement would block incoming traffic as well. June knew how to pose as a news reporter, but she wasn’t the most convincing candidate. Stringy blonde baby hair, lithe body like a cattail reed, clothing that was two sizes too big for her. She looked more like a painter or a homeless person despite driving a BMW. But her passion was always convincing, and her hope was that if Katrina was as big as she promised to be, whoever was watching would be too distracted to waste precious energy on just one life when hundreds of thousands were at stake.
“You a chaser?” the man asked her. He was a plainclothes officer, or maybe a reporter? She couldn’t be sure. He was the third person to stop her since she’d made it into the abandoned city. Anyone left on the streets was in transit, looking for a way out. More than one person had flagged her down and asked for a ride to the Superdome.
“No, I report to the Weather Channel directly,” June snapped. She stuck her anemometer on top of her small rolling suitcase. “I’ve got a room at the Riverside Hilton,” she said. She’d parked Uncle Ben’s BMW in the closest parking garage, reserved the room with his Mastercard. The receptionist only asked her if she knew there was a city-wide mandatory evacuation in progress. June looked up at her as if she were insulted. She smacked a press card on the desk. It wasn’t hers and the receptionist didn’t check it.
The cop or reporter was sold with the card. He figured hustlers or chasers couldn’t afford digs like hers. She walked briskly past him and flashed him her key card. What was he going to do? Arrest her and take her to jail? They had bigger things to worry about. This city was about to get slammed and everyone who’d stayed knew their lives would be in danger.
There were maybe a hundred or so of them in the Hilton. June recognized all the chasers, and not just because she’d seen them at other storms. It was their wily nature, their eyes holding the spark instead of the dread that was written all over the faces of the real press in the crowd. Some were there for the historic record and others, like Junipera, were there for the fix.
The wind started to scream at around eleven that evening. June wrapped her camera and her meter tightly in Saran Wrap, then stuck them in Ziploc bags along with her paper and pens. She packed all of the tiny water bottles and soda, peanuts and pretzels from the mini fridge into her backpack. Rolled up her blue tarp, Swiss Army knife, extra pair of underwear, waterproof pants and windbreaker and stowed them alongside the food.
The rain lashed the windows and splashed against them in sheets as if her hotel window were the windshield and she was moving slowly through a vigorous carwash. June stepped outside onto the balcony around two in the morning; the rain seemed to have died down but the wind was picking up, the trees across the way bending and straining, at times leaning almost horizontally. Her anemometer picked up wind speeds over eighty miles per hour. It’s the eastern side of the hurricane that packs the power punch. When that came calling, the hotel would be bending like the trees.
The television in the room blared with the constant evacuation warnings. June watched the Doppler radar image on a loop, circling toward the city like a hanging jaw going from red to purple. Hungry, angry wind and water were coming. June filled the bath tub, reinforced the metal stopper with Saran Wrap, did the same to the sink. She plunked down on the bed, splayed her limbs wide and stared at the ceiling.
The demon bared its teeth, and the windsong progressed from scream to roar, drowning out the warnings on the television. The beast was in the room, she was everywhere, surrounding them. June flinched every time she heard glass pop and shatter.
The window shook with the ferocity of a King Kong tantrum. Junipera imagined the tall Hilton as a toy in a child’s diorama reproduction of the French Quarter. Her fingers dug in and she held tight to the edge of the mattress. The room went black and the television silent when the power failed. The roar got louder, filling up her ears to find a way inside her skull.
At six-thirty in the morning her windows finally burst; the shades flew into the room and danced a madcap jig, wrenching themselves from the sliding track. June watched, eyes wide, as the one on the left took flight, a flash of soaring white in the dark sky before it flew out of sight. She crawled along the carpeted floor that was now soaked in brackish water, rolled to her back and filmed the macabre sky. The center of the hurricane looked like the center of a starfish, opening and beckoning, then folding in on its own hungry embrace. If there were Gods they were angry, monsters immune to the rules of give and take. June’s ears popped with the pressure while debris flew over her head, sometimes inches from her face. Then the rain began to plop down again in enormous drops. She stuck her camera under her shirt.
No sun rose and daybreak came in without color. From white to grey to a drab blue, the subdued tones of pigeons colored the horizon. When the roar finally moved far enough west to quiet, her ears still buzzed with its scream as if it had taken up house in her head. June could hear the beating of propellers—Army, she assumed, and not meteorological. The sound of periodic gunfire she decided to tell herself was exploding transformers and not ruthless people taking advantage of a ghost city with only a weary skeleton crew to protect it. She washed her face and armpits in the water she’d saved in the sink. Brushed her teeth, spitting in the toilet. She drank from the bathwater as if it were a baptismal font. It tasted as warm as the humid air around her.
It was still a good storm raging outside but June figured she’d head to the command center and hang with the reporters, hear their assessment of the damage. Running her fingers through her tangled hair was the best she could do for appearances. Nobody would care. The room, which had probably been a continental breakfast concierge haven, was now buzzing with reporters using an antiquated form of dial-up to communicate with the greater world. With a crashed electrical grid, the means for direct communication were severed. Someone had made coffee from instant crystals and bathwater. June helped herself to two mugs full as she listened to their chatter and took notes. Analog reporting, they were relaying messages like it was 1984. June heard reports of levees breeched, ruptured, possible flooding, but no one seemed to know for certain. She left the command center and went back to her room, pulled on her waterproof pants and rain boots, and put a sweater on under her windbreaker even though the humidity was stifling. She walked out the door with nothing more than her equipment and tiny rations in a backpack.
“Which way is the ninth ward?” she asked the security guard standing by the sliding glass doors. He looked her up and down reproachfully and Junipera tried to stand even taller than her already generous five feet ten inches.
“To your left. It’s a long walk, and believe me, from what they’re saying you don’t want to go there. Head to the Convention Center instead.”
“Thanks,” June said. She stepped out into the dense fog and turned left.
“There’s still debris flying. Hurricane ain’t over yet!” the security guard shouted after her.
She disappeared from his view, swallowed up by the insatiable mouth that wasn’t yet finished feeding on New Orleans

Mara White is a contemporary romance and erotica writer who laces forbidden love stories with hard issues, such as race, gender and inequality. She holds an Ivy League degree but has also worked in more strip clubs than even she can remember. She is not a former Mexican telenovela star contrary to what the tabloids might say, but she is a former ballerina and will always remain one in her heart. She lives in NYC with her husband and two children and yes, when she’s not writing you can find her on the playground.

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“Sweet Sacrifice (The Soul Mate Tree Book 9)” by L.D. Rose #BookBlitz

September 13, 2017September 8, 2017 ~ Felicia Denise ~ Leave a comment

Title: Sweet Sacrifice
Author: L.D. Rose
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Release Date: September 13, 2017
Cover Designer: Wren Taylor
Hosted by: Buoni Amici Press, LLC.

Former Navy SEAL Sebastian “Bash” Lockard died in Afghanistan after leaping on a grenade to save his comrades. Little did he know his act of heroism would grant him a ticket into Heaven’s elite army as one of the few and powerful Archangels. Struggling with his new existence, Bash still retains his human memories, leaving behind a wife he loves with all of his heart. Although he is forbidden to see her, he cannot resist her lure, or the mortal desires he harbors for her.

As a young widow and nurse, Irene Lockard still mourns her husband two years after his untimely death. His absence is everywhere, and when her best friend weds, she hits an emotional rock bottom. As if summoned from the skies above, Sebastian appears before her, and they share an unforgettable night. But when he once again vanishes, she wonders if she’s truly gone mad with grief.

The only way Sebastian can remain with Irene is if he makes the ultimate sacrifice. But will she overcome her fear of losing him again to another war?

Bash’s gaze caught on a couple on the dance floor, the sight of her sinking into him like hooks and bringing him to a standstill.

With her dark curls springing over her shoulders, she spun across the hardwood, her pale gray dress flowing around her. Much like in his recent vision of her, she tipped her head back and laughed, beautiful, stunning, her smile as bright as the yellow calla lilies tucked in her hair. She swayed with a man in dress whites, a Marine, another fucking soldier she didn’t belong with. And as the rain of realization became a downpour of comprehension, he remembered the engagement, where Claude proposed to Lucille—at their wedding—right before Bash left for another tour of Afghanistan.

“Bash?” Gabriel stepped in front of him, blocking his view, pale eyes narrowed.

Bash’s hand slammed into Gabriel’s chest, pushing him away as he lurched forward. Gabriel reacted faster, though, snatching his arm and wrenching him back at least four feet. Bash lunged again and the Arc’s hand fisted in his white button-down shirt.

“Don’t,” Gabriel growled, all humor draining from his angular face and setting his expression in stone. “Do not.”

Bash’s heart punched at the angel’s fist, every fiber of his being burning with the urge to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and feel her body against his one more time. Envy, rage, longing, and sadness blasted through him in a toxic tornado of emotion ready to whip this place into oblivion.

He nearly ground his molars into pulp. “Let. Me. Go.”

“You are dead, Sebastian. You’re no longer part of this world. All you’ll do is bring her pain, bring yourself pain. Don’t do this.” Twin streams of air whistled from the Arc’s nostrils as he shook his head. “I should’ve never brought you here.”

Bring him pain? More pain than he’d already endured? No.

No.

L.D. Rose is a neurotic physician by day, crazed writer by night, and all around wannabe superhero. She writes dark paranormal romance and urban fantasy, but she’s been known to delve into horror, sci-fi, and medical suspense on occasion. L.D. Rose is a PAN member of the RWA, FF&P, NEC-RWA and CoLoNY. She currently lives in Rhode Island with her studly hubby, her hyperactive Boxer, and her two devious cats.

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