The Jay Razor Series by Deon Hayes - Urban Fiction At Its Finest - Tribute to the First and Last Book in Series - Playlist - Deon, Hope You're Still Writing in Heaven...

 

“Oh, yeah, I feel you. I spent years just thinking, and reading, and honestly my only escape was dreaming and through books. You see, when I read, I would see myself as the people I’m reading about and I envision that it’s me that’s doing whatever it is they’re doing. Now I’m no longer that caged bird. I’m flying, living my dream, and living life by my own set of rules. I’m a slave to nothing, but a master of all my mind can conceive.” 

“Wow, that’s deep. That’s what I love about you; you know what you want and you know how to go about getting it, and that’s real.” 

“Look, Heidi, we’re only here for a short period of time. This life isn’t guaranteed to nobody, so it’s a must you do the damn thing while you’re here. All the time you spend bullshitting and fucking up is time wasted, no doubt. Just like a bad relationship; it’s pointless.” 

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I once heard that saying, ha, yeah, that’s funny.”  “You believe that shit?” “Yeah, kinda.” “Baby, that’s bull. God don’t make trash! If a man makes you feel that low, he was never a man in the first place. A man is strong, caring,responsible and loving towards his family. If a man feels he needs to break you down to make himself feel more like a man, then he was lacking in a few of those qualities himself.” 

“Hey, you feel like going to the diner for some coffee?” “Sure, babe, we can do that.” “Cool, well, let me jump into the shower first and then we out!” 

While Jay was in the shower, Heidi got a call from Mark. “Hey, girl, why haven’t I seen you in awhile?” “Mark, baby, I’ve been busy, but we can get together tonight. Is that cool?” “Yeah, meet me over at my crib in about ten minutes. Got it? And Yo, don’t keep me waiting, alright?” he barked his order. “Come on, baby. You know I would never keep you waiting; I’ll be there.” She ended the call. 

Jay got out the shower. “So, Heidi, you ready?” Jay had the water running but had come back out to retrieve a towel and had overheard the whole conversation so now he just wanted to see how she would squirm her way out of it. 

“Jay, baby, I’m going to have to take a rain check on that coffee. Something’s come up unexpectedly, so I have to run. Is that cool?” 

“No problem. It is what it is.” Jay walked past her and headed towards the car. She seemed a little pissed. “You’re not going to even ask why?” 

“Heidi, the set of rules I live by won’t allow me to.” “Really, Jay, and what kinda rules are these?” “Don’t ask for the truth if you’re not ready for it or you don’t want to hear a lie!” “Oh, so now I’m a liar huh?” 

“Okay, just this once. I’ll humor you. What came up all a sudden, Heidi?” he said with a sarcastic tone. “My mom wants to hang out and watch movies so I’m staying here. That’s all. Why, what did you think?” she asked, looking down at the floor. “Oh, you’re really going to play this thing through huh? Well, I know for a fact that’s bullshit! But like I said before it is what it is. I mean, really, your mom can’t wait for you to have a cup of coffee?” 

“Jay, I don’t spend that much time with my mom as it is. Damn, can I do this one thing?” “Like I said, are you ready?” “Yes, Jay, let’s go!” Minutes later she was dropping him off at his truck. Jay sat in her car until she got jumpy. “Damn, must be some movie. I’ll let you go so you can meet him, I mean, her. 

See ya!” She tried to kiss him on the lips, he dodged it and slammed the door. He didn’t even turn around to wave at her. She rolled down the window and yelled, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” He held up the peace sign and said nothing...

Deon Hayes was a native of Bronx NY. He was a happily married family man and a father of four children; one son and three daughters who were all born in Philadelphia, PA. Besides writing in his spare time, he loved spending time with his family and shooting pool with his friends. When asked about sports, Hayes loved Boxing, Basketball, and Football in that order. He also loved reading books and responding to his fans.

~~~

After thousands of books read, I met with a first, for me, I had been a member of the Gettin' It Facebook group and noticed the book cover of The Jay Razor Series. I thought I would read Deon Hayes book, since it was the first in series. I had already started to pull things together for my review when I saw that Deon Hayes, the author, had died recently. My heart immediately went out to his family. I have learned that he was just 27. However, I can attest to the fact that Deon would have had a future writing career, and, undoubtedly, a successful series. In fact, I had already gone out once the first book was read to get the next, only to see that it wasn't yet published. I decided I wanted to go ahead and review the book and post as normal. And include his full and extensive playlist that was used, practically from the first page of the book. For now, I'll stop to include the memorial song used on his memorial page...

https://www.knoxhighmortuary.com/obituary/Deon-SkeenoHayes

I had so many questions, thoughts and awareness as I finished the book, which was to be the first in a series about a boy named Jay Razor. Jay was just 17 when we first meet him as the book opens. Jay was frustrated, roaming around, unable to sleep, wanting to "do" something, but stuck in a prison they called a boys' home. He'd been having night sweats and bad dreams from memories that just wouldn't go away. He paced around his bed, hemmed in and suddenly stopped. 

I thought to myself, This can’t be life. I need something to look forward to. I felt like an unwanted stray that had been left on his own, similar to Oliver Twist in the Charles Dickens story. Without giving it a second thought, I reached under my bed, grabbed my book bag, and began packing. I grabbed the three hundred dollars that I hustled from some of the younger boys. It’s now or never. I’m ready to leave this filthy prison they call a boys’ home.

I knew about bad dreams, so I began to sympathize, but already knew that the type of dreams young Jay would be talking about were bound to be extremely different than mine which was caused by job burnout... Let's face it, there are many issues in America that is sadly affecting many of us, and, sadly, most of the Black Race. I went back to view the video of pictures of young Deon, who played football, and was in the navy...and clearly was loved by his family. So I find I am spending more time associating the boy Deon in his book, to the life of Jay.  I would have liked to have had the opportunity to meet Deon through his books, like I always do... I'll miss knowing about the life that Jay had...

For Jay was now free from the boys' home and on his own. Jay was a good-looking guy, surely, because the girls and women seemed to notice him. And, in his freedom, he met a young girl who seemed to match what he saw as his future lifestyle... For one, she immediately did her thing and went out and loaded up on new clothes for Jay--that was her grift, and she had never got caught, so she was dressed to...kill... The final story of Heidi turns dark quickly after she had left Jay to go meet another guy...

While Jay was into local hood passive money making activities, movin' cars, getting them in and out of the area and sellin' high. Jay soon had made a contact with a chop shop, plus a local gang and was promising a minimum number of vehicles hitting the shop. Money began to pour in and everybody was happy with the new moneyman, even if he was only 17 goin' on 18...

But Jay was in just for big bucks while playing it cool... But it got rough early when a guy tried to move in to his girl..

They finished their ice cream as they walked back through the park heading towards the truck. When they got to their truck this guy and this girl were leaning up against it. “Yo, excuse me. That’s my truck you’re leaning up against, if you’ll excuse us?” Jay stated, annoyed. The guy brushed Jay off, while he continued to lip lock with his girl. Pam looked on to see how Jay was going to handle this. “Dude! Don’t take this there. Get the fuck off my truck!” Jay yelled with venom dripping from his words. He stopped and looked up, “Yo, kid! You and your little friend need to go play somewhere ‘cause I’m busy.” Jay became furious by the level of disrespect the guy showed him and his face turned blood red. As he went into a rage, he spit out his razor into his hand. The guy had his hands around his girl; Jay took the razor across both his hands as the guy let out a loud scream. Everyone close by turned to look. The guy reached towards Jay but Jay moved with cat-like speed and attacked again. His girl saw the blood streaming down his arms. She started to scream, and Jay dipped the guy’s arm as he sliced him again from his wrist to his elbow. While he grabbed his new wound, Jay went across his face. He fell to the ground in pain as Jay stepped over him and got into his truck. As the shock ran off of Pam’s face, she quickly ran around and climbed inside as they pulled off. They rode along in complete silence. Once back at the hotel, Jay picked up the bloody razor off the front seat and went up the stairs. Pam thought to herself, I know he isn’t going to keep that? Jay went straight to the closet and pulled out a bottle of some kind of solution in a box and then he put the razor in it and it started to fizz. “Jay, what the heck is that?” “It’s a sterile solution; it get my razors clean like new!” “Are you telling me you’re going to put that razor you just sliced that man up with, back into your mouth?” “Well, not right now, but yeah. This is the stuff doctors clean their tools with! he bragged. Hey, I’m about to jump into the shower.” “Well, when you get out I’m going to take a bath. You want to get a movie? They have a few new ones on the list we can order.” “Yeah, yeah do they have Scarface on there?” “Sure, you want me to order that?” “No doubt. Hey, you feel like running to the store and getting us a bag of popcorn?”

And there you have it, Jay got his name by holding a razor in his mouth, always ready to...slice...and dice... And then went back for a shower...and...  prayer.

He let the hot water work its magic to relieve the stress from the fight. He thought about the guy he had just fucked up for life. He tapped his head, stomach, left shoulder, then right shoulder as he looked up, “God, I’m not sorry for what I’ve just done. I can’t live my life with regrets. It was either him or me, and I’m good. Amen.” Jay put his hands on the wall to let the hot water run down his back while brainstorming his next hustle. He quickly snapped out of thought when he heard Pam come back in. He soaped up, rinsed off, and got out. He washed out the tub and started Pam’s bath water. He walked out with his towel around his waist. “Hmm, what you got there?” Pam licked her lips. “I started running your bath water for you, he said while looking in the bag she had just got from the store, Hey, what else you got in here?” “I got your Slim-Jim and your Snapple peach tea!” “Cool that’s what I’m talking about. Well, go in there and take your bath so we can kick back and chill,” Jay ordered as he looked over at the cell phones charging. He went over and unplugged one then went over to his bag. 

And there you have the dichotomy of our main character, Jay Razor! He moved from being held in by society that would not help him except stick him in a boys home where he grew restless, certainly having been in danger often, and yet had little done to ensure he was prepared to enter into the adult phase of his life. He taught himself to always be prepared to keep himself safe by slowly learning how to maneuver a two sided razor blade in a corner of his mouth, so that he could whip it out whenever he needed...

And he used it only when absolutely necessary, at least for how he evaluated the specific situation, and then said a little prayer to God about what happened and his feelings about it... Almost daring God to disagree with his assessment, don't you think?

Jay was a boy/man who had the brains to move forward in any effort he would make, yet chose crime, at least until he had enough money to get where he wanted to me... Jay did what he had to do to protect the few friends he had made, but thought nothing if those with whom he'd been working started getting jammed up and were caught in death's grip...

And would just add that he'd have to pray about them as he left...

Jay loved music, ice cream and other junk food to watch with movies or he played both hip hop or pulled out from his collection of old soul players like Sam Cook, dependent upon his mood, or if he was sharing with his girl...

Or any other girl or woman who let Jay know that she was into him...

This Urban Fiction book contains many sex scenes, as well as an ongoing story of Jay's movements toward making him a rich man... And then? Well, sad to say that the book ends as a cliff hanger.... One that all of us will find, maybe, more than usual, since the series ended prematurely... thinking about how the story would move on...

So... I've added my own ending...Jay and his lady will continue on, finally walking away from all of the dangerous situations... and becoming just ordinary people... Perhaps a love story, not unlike any other?

For surely the music played gives the impression of Jay being in love, don't you think?

But here's how he ends.... in song...

He grabbed Jay’s hand and held it as he looked at Lulu. “He will have no fear of bad news. His heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. His heart is secure; he will have no fear and in the end he will look in triumph on his foes.” 

“That’s Psalm one twelve, verses seven and eight.” “You love the Bible huh?” Lulu asked Noah “Sweetheart, because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live.” Noah finished. “That’s Psalm one sixteen, verse two.” 

Jay shook his hand goodbye; Lulu did the same as they jumped into the truck and headed out. “So Jay, baby, why didn’t you tell me you were into the Bible like that?” 

“I’m not. I’m just a person who would rather know a little bit of everything, than a whole lot of nothing, feel me?”

~~~

This is a fascinating story of a young man who learns early that it will be a hard life without money, and is smart enough to figure out how to get enough to build a life. I am taking the liberty to share that the first thing he buys is a house for he and his girl... 

One thing I should mention, some of the videos on the playlist may not come through due to YouTube restrictions, but I wanted to include them so that you can, if you wish, click over to hear those that may not play here. I have to admit that my preference was for those older songs which were popular in my earlier years... Sam Cook, Marvin Gaye and others who sing words that just about any woman wants to "swoon" on... And that, dear readers, is also still listed in the Urban Dictionary as a very good thing... I hope you all will enjoy this post... And, like I said, in the Heading, I hope Deon is settled in his new golden threads and is writing stories for the angels now...

God Bless,

Gabbie

Please Welcome to Book Readers Heaven, Cameron Rascoe, Spotlight Author/Creator, Featuring Restless for Retribution, The Next Sister Act III - PH Block Party!?!

 

“Damn, when are you knuckleheads gonna get it right? Now take it again from the top! On me! One, two, three and pop. Yeah, that’s what I’m talking’ bout.” Chandler’s chastising turned to praise as he attempted to whip his latest boy band into shape. In his mind this group was no better or worse than any of the bands he’d created in the past. Chandler was convinced that if a group had the least bit of talent varied with vocal ability, he could groom them into stars. Very demanding Chandler was of his talent and often the protracted hours of form design wore him thin. Creating was overrated in Chandler’s mind; invariable persistent duplication is the key. Churning out the same with a little twist was Chandler’s greatest talent. “I’m the star! The music industry is filled with my puppets. I am the ultimate Geppetto; he had one dishonest puppet with a long wooden nose. Me on the other hand; my puppets deceive the whole world and entice them to join in the lie. They all sing a song and dance a dance of deception. This all, hatched from my brilliant mind, one mimics the other. Yes, I am a genius.” He would proclaim to anyone in the music industry who’d the misfortune of spending time in his presence fell upon. Overly impressed was Chandler with his own talent which caused him to be very persistent in his attempts to immerse them all in his superficial greatness.

Ras Cat grew to be a leader not only in the streets but also in community activism. He led a few boycotts and held town hall meetings in his twenties in protest of one injustice or another. Not much happened in Pine Hills without it being filtered through the “Mayor” at some point or another. He was dubbed the “Mayor” by some street rivals in an attempt to bring him disrespect for being so involved positively in community projects. The thug sentiment was that he was a hypocrite for getting money in the streets and then standing in front of the cameras and telling folks what to do. Ras Cat reasoned that we all have good and bad in us so why should we let the bad disallow us from utilizing the good we hold within us. “We all sin but doesn’t the Lord want us to go to church and repent if we do wrong. Are we to refuse to do good because we’ve done bad?” Ras Cat announced to an audience at a Pine Hills council meeting. The community latched on to the title of “Mayor” so the title was used by all when referring to the Ras Cat... He was a leader in music with the label Ras Cat Records. The label was owned by Ras Cat, a real Pine Hills G. A man in his mid thirties who knew the streets backwards and forwards; never committed a heinous crime, but been on the grind for decades. He’d done some of everything and never spent one day in the pen. Ras Cat was an intelligent man but he just decided to play the cards he was dealt. Smart enough to own three local profitable businesses but still had a real passion for Music, the one thing besides athletic competition he had to hold on to during his own painful childhood.

~~~

They called him the Mayor since there wasn't anybody in the position, but Ras Cat "earned" the title by doing anything and everything to help the people in the community of Pine Hills, also called Crime Hills by the rich and famous; but, a place where people of all races seemed to find a home, perhaps because of the atmosphere that was brought about by Ras Cat? Of course, there were still guns and drugs to be had and; based upon the family, sometimes, it depended how the teens would look forward to their future lives. If they favored a special uncle, who happened to find easy money through the sale of drugs, then they might wind up either hooked or in jail. While, others might recognize that they had to act on their own to get to the place where they wanted to be. And, if you were that type of boy or girl, and happened to have music in your blood, then Ras Cat just might be the role model they followed!

For surely  Ras Cat was the person to whom, when a group who was hoping to make a career in music, they came when they realized that they might have been "screwed royally" by their present manager. And, yes, they were under contract. The thing was that, the group wanted to go one way, even recording a song that they'd put together on their own; but their manager didn't even want to consider changing his routine method of dealing with groups... He saw himself as the puppet master and all of those he represented were to do exactly what he said, no matter what...

Ras Cat changed that... PH BOYZ were soon under Cat's wing and singing on tour and more! Of course, that change did not come easy and much of the behind-the-scene actions that both music fans and the rest of us never see (readers), are spelled out in the fantastic drama of Restless for Retribution!

And one scene was growing steadily toward eruption when a young boy, Ronnie, just 14, picked up a gun, and more, from his uncle who allowed his illegal activities to be seen and discussed with whoever happened to be visiting...

Ron was soon being mourned as still another Black boy was murdered...

Calls of warning were made to young Ronnie to no avail. He was engulfed in the embraces of his adolescent love, Tina. As the fall winds gently blew the pink white trimmed curtains in her bedroom window, the teens made sweet puppy love to the sounds of Chris Brown. After receiving one last dose of sugar from his number one girl, Ronnie exited her home and walked tall down Hastings Street. The cool winds blended perfectly with his mood of contentment and wooziness. Upon reaching the corner corner he took a right on Silver Star and made his way east to the Mc Donald’s. Damn this been a good night. He thought to himself as he entered the fast food establishment. After ordering a number three combo and saying hello to his Auntie Rhonda and her companion; he made his way out onto the patio to enjoy his meal by the beautiful Florida moonlight. Before the door closed behind him, booming gun shots rang out from the double barrels of a sawed off shotgun. Out of the front driver’s window of a black late model Impala leaned Tank taking aim once again at the youngster. With rims still spinning under the blaring lights in the restaurant’s parking lot, Tank pulled the trigger causing fatal wounds to the youngster’s head and face.

~~~

Of course, Ras Cat was soon in the mess of things as cries of family were heard in the streets, combined with police sirens and talk of...revenge... Ras Cat knew it could get worse...quick!

Among all that was to happen, music became a part of it, so here's a little of the major event that Cat brought to life... after...death...

This event named “THE FIRST ANNUAL PINE HILLS DAY - A DAY OF HEALING” by its creator and financer was to be like none other experienced in Pine Hills. The occasion would be part memorial service, part town hall meeting, motivational speaking, and concert. Accumulating into a joyous celebration of the tumultuous yet beautiful community embedded in the heart of Central Florida. Justly coaxed to take part in the event was a minister of Ras Cat’s home church in historic Eatonville Florida, the oldest black municipality in America. Minister Hunter, a long time friend and spiritual supporter of Ras Cat’s small dysfunctional family, was more than happy to speak at such a blissful and positive occasion. It was explained to him that it would be a secular event and there would be a lot of emotion in the air because of the recent tragic events occurring in their beloved Pine Hills. The minister replied. “You know I always go where I’m called to go and the Lord is telling me to come with you to spread this message of forgiveness, peace and love throughout this place that needs it so much right now...

Many beautiful women of all races and ages graced Barnett Park that day adding splendor to the festive fall morning. By 10:00 a.m. the park held more than six thousand people; light R&B played throughout the park from remote speakers. Students working with Ras Cat presented their own works... Then... DJ Chamber played Frankie Beverly and Maze, Earth Wind and Fire and Patty Labelle to the audience’s delight. Ras Cat greeted Reverend Hunter as people continued to pour onto the park grounds.

There's a lot more in this first book, actually it's set into different parts, which focuses on the "retribution" of the individuals in the book... But, as I was working to finish what I'd be sharing about this book, Ras Cat asked one of his former lovers, who was also a music star a number of years ago, if she would sing a song for the memorial part of the day. She was hesitant since she hadn't song publicly for years, but Ras Cat had written a song for the service and he thought when she heard it, she would want to help bring it to the event. Which she did. 

Now, for me, there wasn't a song for me to find...but as soon as I thought about it, another God Incident happened... I hope the following choice, Precious Lord, Take My Hand, will represent Cam's words that needed to be said, and heard, by those mourning the young boy...and moving on from their horrible loss... Besides the one I found by Beyonce, I wanted to also use Aretha...as well as others that are the greats that we all love to hear, don't we?

Gabbie's Thoughts: Spend some time as you listen to the songs presented as a part of the memorial. Book Readers Heaven cries out for all those Black men who are chased down the streets by vigilantes, by corrupt police officers and by those who hate because they are incited to hate... One thing I have realized since I've met so many writers and read their books, we are lucky that the majority of Americans who are not white, not christian, do not rise up like the white "christian" nationalists have done! I have watched and seen that, especially those who are Black have been held down for so long--hundreds of years--that they are, sadly, "almost" acceptive of it. Still it hurts. It enrages all those who follow our goal of loving our neighbors... And even, men who are leaders have not brought about such turmoil as the white nationalists have wrought on our nation. I am ashamed... I pray to God for reparation. (the making of amends for a wrong one has done, by paying money to or otherwise helping those who have been wronged.)

And Then It Hit Me as I was reading about preparations on the 2nd Annual Event...and remembered what had been said about Pine Hills being referred to as "Crime Hill!" Now, that's a location for...Whoopie Goldberg to set her Sister Act III location - PH Block Party! Pine Hills is a widely diversified community that, according to the story, is both a high crime area...but one in which a local non-political individual has pulled the community together to work toward improvement, and, emphasizing the youth living there! In fact, Cam Roscoe has already told the story in Restless for Retribution... including a grand finale such as we saw in Sister Act II 

I meet men creators like Cam, or poets like Manny Moreno, an indigenous citizen and see no anger strong enough to reek of the smell of hate sufficient to go out and murder... Doesn't that tell us something about just "who" is acting politically as opposed to Godly?

In one of the videos from Cam, there was a comment about individuals on Facebook who join groups and/or just speak in a nasty way to whoever and whatever they feel is their right to do. There is no decency, no moral code, no common sense--no feeling of Do Unto Others As You Would Have Them Do Unto You. In fact, this is one of the reasons I stopped doing book reviews, per se. because I have read some of those who share their opinion, without regard to the overall effort of the writer. I would rather share God's Truth, here...and it will be read by those God wants to share it with...

Cam's books I consider in the urban fiction genre. That is important. If you do not know what that means, then you, in my opinion, have no right to "review" these books. The only negative thing I could say is to  highly encourage Cam to get a proofreader... For me, that was the only problem I had with the three books of his I have read, so far. Having worked with hundreds of authors over the years, I know that many find it hard to read their own stories from an editing/proofreading standpoint. Kinda like me, when I read the words of a song, I automatically start singing them... So that, I have been told, when a writer goes back and rereads...it is his final words that are remember and, actually, read, rather than the true content that appears in the page. Yet, many do not have the money to pay for those services. I would not normally even write about this issue these days, except that Cam did a little public feedback for those who have felt the need to negatively respond to his work. 

Frankly I have found the words from Cam Rascoe more real, more open, more sincere than many of the books/public posts I've read. You can certainly tell, when you read as many books as I do, whether the writer is writing to "present" their words to the public, either for political or personal reasons, or whether the writer wants to share his words so much that he will overlook those tedious tasks of ensuring that errors are corrected... And, for some, like Cam, I also overlook them, because I have been captured by what he is saying--and why he is saying them... And, besides, errors can always be corrected...not so, the meaning of words...

And I believe that Cam is a writer that will speak to many of his race. I just wish that more white people would choose to read the words of Black writers... instead of banning those books that speak of the historical and present violence wrought against the Black and other non-white races in America. Thank you Cam, for continuing to speak...and write, even when some will see only errors rather than...words...

God Bless

Gabbie

Held within every problem in life there is an opportunity. Sometimes we focus so much on the troubles that we are going through that we miss the prospect of growth and development that comes attached to it. On the occasion that adversity enters your life, find what greatness you can achieve by overcoming it. A brighter day is on the other side of each storm; we just have to make our way through it. Our most trying tribulations can become our greatest triumphs if we only take the time to recognize the opportunity

--Cam Rascoe

Find him almost daily with words of wisdom and...more...

Coming...more book discussions, individual stories...talking with Cam...!!!

Carol Denise Mitchell Presents Noah: True Love Never Dies

In fact, I was a competitive girl, a tom boy, who prided myself on beating up boys. This included crying over hearing the incredible voice of Tina Turner, thinking she was hurt, until my grandmother explained to me, she was singing...
~~~


 I learned early on in my young love life I was like a man when it came to love. 

I had to be the pursuer or, it was hard for me to like a boy.
~~~

Based on True Story

I remember when I first began writing this novel and not knowing where to begin about my one and only love. Suddenly, my heart began to lead the way. Forgive me for being so candidly truthful about Noah. Baby, I love you so much the only way I could connect to those rare feelings was to draw up our love in vivid memories. Where are you, my love? I miss you so! If love truly is a hurting thing I am in critical condition for your love. While my heart aches all over the place, even after all of those years, love is the same. Your love was so amazing I can't even wait to share how it came about with the world. When lovers across the world hear about us, I am sure they will agree that no love in the world has ever matched the way I love you, honey. In fact, long after we first met, I still love you! Decades after it first happened, I still yearn for your tender touch. I need you so badly, I had to do something! So, I wrote a book that is propelled by my love for you. After considering numerous titles for the book, the only one that fit this saga was you! I need only to say your name darling for it all to come roaring back. Thank you my love for rising above all others I’ve ever met to maintain your role as my one and only love. Thank you, NOAH.

~~~

Noah

True Love Never Dies

By Carol D. Mitchell

Carol Mitchell is singing in Background... Cool, right?!

Noah is about a child, a woman, looking for love. What love was, it was quite obvious she didn't know, any more than the rest of us. Tiffany was from a large family with a single parent. Her mother worked continuously to provide for her family, which meant that she had little time for individual attention for simply being a mother and teaching them about things they needed to know as they grew. Luckily, until she died, Tiffany had her grandmother with whom she felt she could share anything... That helped her through her early years of school...
And, fortunately, Tiffany always met at least one girlfriend with whom she was able to share her secret thoughts...

The story is written in first-person and reads like the main character is sharing her life story with us. Like any woman who meets with her girlfriends, and they spend hours talking and often repeating what it is that has inspired their latest emotions... Do you remember the first little boys who you had a crush on? Mine were named Jimmy and Dale and we were in grade school. So, yes, I could empathize quite easily as Tiffany talked about a little boy, Kenneth, who wore a bow-tie, and was dropped off to school in a large black car. (Would you believe that my "first true love" was also named Kenneth!) 

Tiffany was devastated when she learned that her friend's family had moved... He had never gotten to see the new dress her grandmother had bought for her, which also had a little bow-tie at the top. She had worn the dress four days straight so he would see it and nobody knew why...

I liked it; in fact, it would take a few years 
for me to learn

 it was a French kiss. It was my first kiss, 

it was sweet and wet.

~~~

Tiffany was a competitive girl, and decided aggressively that when she was attracted to a boy, she was going after him. In many ways, she had developed a confidence that was perhaps beyond her years, maybe because of being in a large family with older children...

Her first puppy love, which she later learned how to differentiate, was sweet. But when she got to be older, she discovered things changing in her body, and she became what you might call obsessed with a fine young boy in her class... Her pursuit included paying a bribe to another girl so Tiffany could sit right behind him... Soon he was hooked up with a cheerleader...and she was still paying the little girl for the rest of the year... Bummer! This love thing was not going as well as she thought it would...

And then her first kiss... which was just that, with no ties to it whatsoever... Funny how our memories remember "the act" as opposed to the one who gave it...after all it was our first kiss... 

But nobody told her that she would be in the minority, and ridiculed, for still being a virgin in her school... She accidentally responded at a assembly one day and she and three other girls just automatically raised their hands. All the other girls were white; Tiffany the only black...After the ridicule that came and the losing of friends, she was out to "save her reputation" in the hood. Sad to say...

A pretty girl is often bombarded with offers of "love" relationships, but when Dean asked, she accepted immediately, to rid herself of the shamed virgin title, until she learned he was married... This story ends in a tragedy...sadly...

Before long, she had graduated and her mother told her she would have to leave home and make a living for herself... Although she was an intelligent girl and her goal was to go into real estate, she was not immediately prepared... She started dancing in bars...And seeing this fine sister, naturally, King Walker, the local Pimp, came around... Their relationship was quite unique... and I understood why Tiffany got involved...until he was murdered in front of her...

Tiffany went from one guy to another, most of them chasing her. And she was a special woman because they all fell in love with her... But the last one, he had wanted marriage almost immediately. But she kept him hanging...until he took her to meet his family... There it was made clear what would happened if Tiffany ever hurt their kin...  Tiffany was facing issues that were too tough to handle on her own...

But on the night before the wedding, while her dancing fool stayed on the floor, Tiffany went to the bar for her favorite drink... a coke with a cherry. Noah served her that night...

The black bow tie in front of the white background of a pleated cotton shirt was back. I was not in the first grade anymore. This time a little boy was not wearing that cute bow-tie. This was a real man. In fact, this man was a grown man presented to me in a form that only appeared to be a dream. 
He was perfect as his lean body bent down to make the perfect drink for a customer. To me, his skin was rich like chocolate fudge, while his perfect nose was sexy, long and pointed in an aristocratic manner, like a white boy. I had never seen a nose on a black man positioned so exact, so high below a perfectly round shaped black afro that was precision around a tall frame. His hair was filled with luxurious, shiny curls that cascaded around the world. They sparkled beneath the night light that lined the bar as he poured each drink with enough purpose as to not leave one spill behind. 
He walked gracefully, back and forth up then down the aisle behind a 4-foot glistening bar, meticulously serving drinks to patrons without blinking a beautiful long lash. At last, after all, I had gone through I was in love with Noah. 
Suffice it to say that, once I saw "him" for the first time, I knew instantly what the hoopla over my past loves was. So, from Kenneth to Ronnie, then onward to King plus beyond, they were all place settings on my way to finding my true "Prince Charming." In fact, from then, on I didn't care that the most significant love match I had ever experienced happened one night before I was set to marry another man...

!!!

No matter who you are, you will be pulled in by Carol Mitchell's story of Noah. But does True Love Never Die? Perhaps many of us can never answer the question. But, also, many of us will know, as readers, that the search for True Love may never happen. What was Tiffany to do when she felt she had truly fallen in love on the night before her "shot-gun" wedding? About that time, I was looking at the picture of Noah and thinking he was mighty fine... Could I deal with the potential danger of backing out of a wedding?

Mitchell includes some important issues in her book--not as a counselor, but as to how she saw each of the issues: education, prostitution, drugs, and parenting. While having to deal with some bad choices, she never once lost sight of the importance of these goals she had set for herself...and learned from them...

Mitchell is a storyteller that uses her personal experience upon which to build her novels. I suppose the story would fit into Urban Fiction...but it is more a biography of a woman searching for love, including in the wrong places. It reads very much like a diary that she has kept since grade school and the content matures along with her as she becomes older. It is intimate, revealing and yet a story that fills you with the possibilities... With a totally satisfactory ending! Teens through adults will enjoy Tiffany and Noah's story... Check it out!

GABixlerReviews

Carol Denise Mitchell is journalist and author.

Mitchell has a thirty-year writing career. She wrote What Happened to Suzy winning praise; and, a coveted (2011) book award, for its message of healing and hope.

Mitchell worked alongside slain newspaper Editor, Chauncey Bailey, as a news reporter.

Carol Denise Mitchell, was born sixth of sixteen children, is the daughter of Zebbie Thomas Charles, Sr., and Tasceaie Carise Charles. Mitchell was reared in Los Angeles, California, during the Civil Rights Movement, and she recalls how living in Watts, California, during this era in American history, was a motivating influence behind her writing career.

"I remember the Watts Riot, when the city imploded for three long, life-changing days. Encouraged by my mother; I knew this kind of degradation and Urban ruin, was not going to be remedied fast enough for the kind of changes the community deserved. One year after the riots, we moved thirty-five miles east to Pomona, California," says Mitchell. She concludes that being a living witness to an infamous part of Watts history left an indelible imprint on her wanting to be a part of change that helped her old community via writing and memorializing such events first-hand.

In 1977, Mitchell moved to the Northern, California, Bay Area, to launch her writing career.

Murder in Germantown! Street Lit at Its Finest - By Raheim Brooks

If you are not familiar with Street/Urban Fiction, and don't want to learn, in

my opinion you should return a book and not give a review... I found Brooks' book one of the best I've read in the genre and is well worth your consideration! If you want to begin learning about Ebonics, I recommend The Magic Pencil by Karen E. Dabney. In my opinion, it is a must-read for every child living in America...and I also recommended it on Amazon to those who gave this book a low rating... Of course, this is just my personal opinion...as well as one who wants to provide a professional review of what she reads... You decide... Note that one of the sentences pointed out on Amazon was one that I simply loved... To me, it flows with rhythm, specific relevant adjectives, and a play on police issues of today... dare I say with a little sarcasm to match... Anyway...

He was never without the Burberry trench, sneer, ethics stamped on his yellowish forehead, or adroit police impracticalities glued to his aura. He had deep eyes that were slanted. Not Asian slanted, but African American slanted. In the Germantown neighborhood where he had grown up, he had been given the street moniker, China.

!!!

Sometimes, my criminals are likable, but oftentimes they’re not. The current one I hated, but I represented him (and his money) without prejudice. His name, Mark Artis. 

I was interested in Artis’ trial verdict. More than the norm. He was an alleged con man and believed to be a serious threat to the Department of Commerce. I doubted that, and my investigators found evidence to prove me correct. But hey, I was bound by attorney-client privilege so I kept those details quiet. I credit my investigators because I actually did more than try one case per year. I did not suffer from the boredom of the unfolding discoveries of one case for months at a time.

I am busy on the Philadelphia criminal judicial circuit, and on the tip of every criminal’s tongue in the Federal Detention Center (FDC) in Philadelphia and in the Philadelphia Prison Systems. It was not the same as being chased down by paparazzi, but.... I could not report to every crime scene, interview every witness, or verify every alibi for all of the clients. I multi-task. So big ups to my detectives. 

The police have theirs and I have mine. I just defended Artis in a trial on the 9th floor of the United States Courthouse at 601 Market Street. The jury deliberated for two days and requested the transcripts of the government’s key witness: Tanya “Jewel” Stalin (Russian, but no relation to the communist). Too bad the jury could not have her transcripts, and had to rely on their memories. I managed to get them the police reports and notes to compare to her testimony, though. I imagined they believe her to be a vicious liar—she was—and I had brought out her lies. Called her a terrorist, too. Yes, I was way out of line, but hey, an acquittal was acquired by any means necessary.

The jury had a verdict, and I had to wait for them to deliver it. At 9:30, Artis had found me perched at the defense table. I had known I would be in the courtroom holding my breath, so I had downloaded the sports news on Carmelo Anthony returning from his famous 15-day suspension. He would join the recently-acquired Allen Iverson with the Denver Nuggets. 

I did not have to see Artis approaching me. The heels of his loafers crashed the hardwood and his handcuffs echoed. The unarmed Marshal sat him next to me.

“It does not take a rocket scientist to find me not guilty of all charges.” He proclaimed. “No prints or DNA of mine was found at the scene. Their whole case hinged on the testimony of a sleazy coke whore who would have sold her mother out. The jury is taking long.  Does that mean anything?”

“What do you mean?” I asked with a subtle hint of sardonicism.  What happened to a good morning pleasantry? This was one of the reasons I knew he had not played the federal agents. He had no class. Or grace. Mark, or whatever his real name was, had proven himself to be a pompous, self-centered bastard. I thought I needed my black ass fanned and fed grapes like royalty considering no Philadelphia tri-state area barrister wanted to touch him. 

I defended him. Offered my Harvard Law bookishness and sound experience to the noodle despite my disgust at how he allegedly devastated the government designed to protect moi. “Could they be wrestling with finding me guilty?”

What the hell did he think? Yes, they were. Guilty or Not Guilty? That was the question. 

“Mark,” I replied. “The length of time they deliberate means nothing. My best conjecture says they are worried about Jewel’s testimony.” 

“Ravonne, she botched a kidnapping after she had already gotten away with five others, and when the FBI swooped in on her for the mastermind, she fingered me. We had a one-night stand and my voice....” He paused and looked into the air. “My goddamn voice sounded like the man that had hired her. She should be on trial alone!” 

“Mark, please! I know the facts.”  It was my way of screaming shut the fuck up. After the comment, I studied him for a second. I checked for a sign that he was upset. He had a cold stare, but I stared back. I won the stare down and had no fear of him firing me. 

“So, you wanna hear about my date last night?” Mark asked me as if I desired to relive some bimbo flashing him her boobs outside the FDC cell window overlooking Arch Street.  

Picayunish should’ve been his last name.  I stayed up countless nights constructing a solid defense, and he did nothing but eat commissary, watch Sports Center, see enough flesh to play with his wiener, and had the audacity to think I wanted to hear about it. 

It was not easy to restrain my position, but I reduced my reply to, “Mr. Artis.”  I stopped and breathed deeply. He hated the nom de guerre and was adamant it was not his.  I continued with, “I am on trial for my life. So, no, I do not care to relish your twenty-five cent booth experience.” 

“On trial for your life?” he asked and paused. “Since when?”  Marky-Pooh’s words dripped with disgust. Jewel’s pet name for him, not mine.

“I will be further ostracized from practicing law in Philadelphia if I lose this case. And that is my life,” I said candidly. “Even if I obtain an acquittal, I’ll be the attorney who freed a con artist and duped the US out of $200,000, not including trial expenses.” 

Refreshing.  I had upset my client and then left him at the defense table. I walked to the window and peered down at the Mark Artis Circus taking place out on Market Street. The press had wanted the verdict. I was not usually perturbed by my clients, but there was a time when sound seriousness was mandatory. Being inside of a courtroom staring stoically down the barrel of a life sentence was a qualifier.

~~~

The author, in an interview, suggested that readers would either love or hate his new main character, Ravonne Lemmelle. What I felt was admiration for the character himself. For the author, I thought he created a strong character that told things like they were, believing in nobody but the law and his own desire to win--within the limits of the law. I wouldn't say I love him, but I believe he would make a perfect series character. Lemmelle is introduced in Murder in Germantown. The fact that he chose defense law was an interesting choice, I think...but then, the author writes in first person and also shares Ravonne's inner thoughts. I found this amusing and it added a depth to the character that you don't always learn about... Here's one comment I loved: I had been accused of being a twenty-dollar word showoff. I read every night and I asked Mr. Webster to define any foreign wordage. My adjective and adverb coffer was corpulent. See what I mean.

At the same time, Brooks does indeed create a number of significant, memorable characters that creates a flavor unique to the genre as well as the story itself. His movement from one specific character to another is easily discovered since each has been drawn with a personality that sometimes shocks, but then delights as readers begin to sink into the novel...

Although Leslie Jones started out as a comedienne, I could see her playing the role of Jewel, a kidnapper who takes wives of men for ransom...

"The name is Jewel."

 "Okay, Jewel. Why am I here?" he asked getting down to business. She stood and threw him a sardonic grin.  "Here's the deal," she said and then added, "your wife Samantha has been kidnapped."

"No! No! No!" He barked.  It was more of a scream than a masculine yell. Mark began to rise from the floor and Jewel flashed a chrome Colt .45. 

Mark thought long and hard about getting up off the floor. Hopefully, Sue was recording all of that. The thug had activated the hand set when the ear piece had lost signal. "It's 10:30 in the morning, Mark Artis. I shall have 200,000 unmarked, non-sequential, American dollars in my possession by the close of the banking business day. That's traditionally three p.m. And I adore tradition, Mark." 

"I do not have that kind of cash," he warned her earnestly.

 "Then you no longer have a f...ing wife!"

~~~

I saw Dule Hill on Suits last night and thought he makes a cool-looking lawyer, but it was in his performance on Psych and his dry humor that made me think he'd play a perfect Ravonne...

I then sat back down at the defense table and put on my smart pince-nez. They made me look fussy and intellectual. 

A man passionate about my craft of criminal defense.

I was!

 I whispered to Mark to behave when the verdict was read. Reporters rushed in to fill the available seats. The judge hit the bench with the jury in tow. They looked forlorn. Shameful. My mind immediately began to ponder errors and plot appeal strategies. 

I doubted if I would represent Mark in the appeals process because I was aware that he would conjure a reason I, Ravonne Lemmelle, was ineffective. Yes, that was the number one appeals ground, and Mark would desperately want to get back to the streets if he was found guilty, so he would try to make me the fall guy. It was highly doubtful that would work out for him...

~~~

The thing was, however, that Ravonne had unexpectedly gotten Mark Artis off...And that was not the plan... Now everything changed... Mr. 357 now appeared... One of my favorite character actors, Sam Jackson, seem to fit this villain...

Mr. 357 was his moniker. Mr. 357 was one gargantuan tandem of mystery, suspense, thriller, and a dose of comedy. He believed the FBI caper was comical. A parody. The joke was on...

 ...Who cared? 

He was by no definition invincible. He did strive for intelligent crimes, though, which helped him thwart arrest. His crimes were plotted with droplets of sex, brilliant gun play, and Hollywood pandemonium. A web site—www.mister357.com— was devoted to theorists, propaganda weavers, and conspiracy mongers regarding his identity. He was as famous as Deep Throat. He was fortunate. He was also a slick bastard who mailed bodies to the local FBI, Interpol, and Scotland Yard at his discretion.

~~~

Mr. 357's plan had been spoiled... He had gotten off and it was payback time... And Ravonne was picked to play a part in this important plot! This time he would become Skylar Juday. He looked forward to Act 1...

Ravonne's Ex, Ariel, came to stay...she needed a husband now... But Ravonne wasn't even willing to talk unless she spent time with their son... Of course, that would also present problems since he was quite happily involved in a gay relationship with Dajuan Jones, a popular singer... And he realized there would always be a place in his heart for Ariel--heartbreak!

I was not going to allow her to eat me alive, so I popped in TP3 (12-Play Part 3 by R. Kelly for all of the R&B remedial) and commenced a lonely drive to nowhere.

I had Beyonce's Irreplaceable booming as Dajuan walked in. I pretended not to see him and continued to sing the break up track. Dajuan's smooth and creamy peanut butter complexion glowed. His curly, close-cropped hair was disheveled and his bushy eyebrows rivaled Einstein's. He sat with his exposed six-pack on the love seat and hid his deep brown eyes in the palm of his hands.

It may be obvious by now that this book was character-driven for me and I enjoyed them all. I also enjoyed Brooks' writing style moving from character in character for street language, at the same time Ravonne and others went through the legalese for a legal case.  I hadn't yet mentioned the murder... The first shot was intended for somebody else, but a young boy was shot, Quincy James, by accident! It was the third recent shooting and with Quincy being a well-known popular student, there was bound to be trouble... The police needed to get on this immediately...

The book is complex, especially with Mr. 357 in his various roles, so readers will need to be alert. I had no problem since I was hooked by the first chapter and moving strong into the story when the ending was coming... Even with some things actually taking place within the story as readers are reading, still you will not have a clue as to what is coming...and...the action is just beginning. Got to say, I loved the book and hope to see Ravonne again soon! Highly recommended!

GABixlerReviews

An accomplished literary executive with 8+ years leadership experience and a flair for social media marketing and public relations.

Additionally, I have worked on the following freelance projects by other authors. 

Buffalo City Czar by James Scott (Editing/Typesetting)

Dedicated to Bmore City by Nigel Ali (Editing/Typesetting)

Hoeism by English Ruler (Proofreading/Typesetting)

High Rollers by Envy Red (Proofreading/Typesetting)

'Til It Happens To You by Kristofer Clarke (Proofreading)

My debut novel, LAUGH NOW earned 2010 AAMBC BOOK OF THE YEAR, and I was honored with 2011 AAMBC AUTHOR OF THE YEAR. LAUGH NOW won Most Creative Plot at the Creative Excellence Awards.

Specialties: developmental editing, reviewing, critiquing novels, and publishing coaching.