Join Lynn at the National Black Book Festival
View the hour-by-hour schedule for 2023 NBBF weekend HERE.
Watch the 2023 NBBF promotional video HERE.
Learn more at: https://www.nationalblackbookfestival.com/
View the hour-by-hour schedule for 2023 NBBF weekend HERE.
Watch the 2023 NBBF promotional video HERE.
Learn more at: https://www.nationalblackbookfestival.com/
If I had a TARDIS oh the places I could go. Of course Doctor Who and Captain Jack Harkness would ride with me. You gotta admit a big blue police telephone box with a perception field around it is a lot cooler than a flying Delorean. I’ve nothing against Doc Brown, but who wants to tote around a bag of garbage to fuel a car? Doctor Who has that nifty sonic screwdriver, and he can travel ANYWHERE!
So where would I go if I could Time travel?. Are certain events a fixed point in time as Doctor Who has said on numerous occasions? Or is it more forgiving? Would I go back and not let President Trump win the election, view the dinosaurs, meet Malcolm X or the real Betty Boop. Maybe something more personal like having a conversation with my younger self and tell her to avoid the young man and choose a worthier man, or better yet, stay home the last three weeks of school freshman year. It’s so easy to get caught up in the personal and change your own path. Many of the things that have occurred in life help shape who we are now. With that said I would go back and sit at the feet of Jesus. To witness firsthand his humbleness, power, love, and ministry would be a game changer. If I couldn’t see him, the I’d visit Lot during the time he and his family were fleeing Sodom and Gomorrah. I’d love to see his wife turn into a pillar of salt.
On Wednesday, September 21, 2022, get these free books at your preferred ebook retailer, for FREE, no strings attached. This is just a helpful collection of free-for-a-limited-time romance novels!
GET STARTED BY SELECTING YOUR PREFERRED RETAILER: Click on any one of the links below!
Future “Stuff Your Kindle” events: December 26, 2022. Mark your calendars!
In a small town, in a popular bar, beautiful women disappear. This could just be a coincidence, but private investigators, Carson, Matt and Nathalie don’t believe in them. So they go undercover.
However, when one of the missing women turns up dead, the trio is disturbed to learn the woman bore a striking resemblance to Nathalie; they increase their efforts. When Nathalie disappears from the same bar, Carson and Matt will do anything to find her.
*Contains explicit descriptions of sex, strong language, and descriptions of violence.*
Weeping, the kind which does its best to go unnoticed, filled the ominous silence. The constant whimper invaded the consciousness of the woman sprawled half on half off the bed. With effort the woman forced her heavy lids open and blinked in the frail darkness. She shifted, then toppled to the hard packed earth with a grunt.
Gripping her pounding head, she sat cross legged on the floor and rested her back against the wall. She rolled spit around her mouth in an effort to loosen her swollen tongue from the roof of her mouth. What the heck happened?
“Sean?” she croaked. Her voice was low and rusty from disuse. Had she passed out? They, she and her fiancé Sean, hadn’t even had that much to drink.
“No Sean here,” came a shaky singsong voice.
Had she passed out somewhere else? She shifted, moaning when her stomach shifted and slid like old grease on water. “This isn’t funny, Sean.” Finally she looked upward.
Not home. No where near home.
Weak sunlight filtered through the dingy mullioned glass block windows. From somewhere, a woman wept as if trying to do it in secret. The dirt floor was hard, and sported a colorful rug, a camped with a stingy mattress and rolled sleeping bag sat in one corner. While a toilet and shower, well more like a hose with a nozzle occupied the other corner. At least that section of the room had an actual floor. The faint stench of sewage gave her an idea of what was supposed to go on there.
Definitely not at home.
Rough gray cinder blocks formed the walls and thick wood and bars made up the front of the cell. A soft, soothing alto sang an old Cyndi Lauper song, something about girls having fun.
She was not having fun. She wanted to go home. She didn’t want to be in this dirty, filthy, hovel waiting for God knew what or even worse for whoever had grabbed her to come back and and do what? Her heart pounded at the question.