Book Excerpts

Comment by Robert "Digger" Cartwright on August 20, 2012 at 4:51pm

Here is a PDF File of my novel "Murder at the Ocean Forest" Enjoy!

Murder_at_the_Ocean_Forest_Excerpt.pdf

 

 www.diggercartwright.com

Comment by Lara Biyuts on August 28, 2012 at 1:57pm

on my blog, you can read several fragments of my latest historical fiction A Handful of Blossoms, using links to the book latest reviews

http://revueblanche.blogspot.com/2012/08/from-stories-of-traveler.html

Comment by Garry Edward Lewis on September 5, 2012 at 8:38am

Loved your sample piece Patricia! 

Comment by Shirley Ann Long on June 25, 2013 at 6:33am

Suzanne, I love the excerpts from your book.  I saw the video and

it is wonderful.  I wish your book all the success.  May God bless your

efforts because you are putting something good out into the universe.

This is something people need to hear.

Comment by Deborah Hall-Branch on February 24, 2015 at 10:35pm

http://http://www.amazon.com/Through-Eyes-Abuse-Forgiveness-Redempt...  Hello, my name is Deborah Hall-Branch.  The title of my non-fiction book is Through the Eyes of Abuse, A True Story of Forgiveness, Healing, and Redemption which was originally traditionally published in 2009, and now as an E-book available on Kindle.  I've also, co-authored a book Words From the Low Place, and at the present time working on a fiction inspirational romance novel; all at the same time just completed my short inspirational novella which is now in the editing process.  Whew!  I'm looking forward in gleaming from you guys and sharing.  

Comment by Anna L. Walls on February 25, 2015 at 2:27am

That's great news. I'm sure your book will be of great help to many people. Good luck.

Comment by Deborah Hall-Branch on February 26, 2015 at 12:07am

Through the Eyes of Abuse

Prologue - From South Carolina, he came to live with us at the birth place of our parents and many of our ancestors.  I had never met this cousin before, but inside of me, excitement bubbled.  He was Lillian's twin sister's son.  He and my mother were first cousins.  Mommy said he would be with us until he could find a job and a place of his own.  

Sitting there in my room, I wondered how long it would take him to find a job.  Does he like children?  To me, at eight years old, that was important.  If he liked me, maybe he would play my favorite game, Monopoly, with me.  Mommy never liked playing it because I always won.  She simply would say, "It takes too long to end."

Everything in my life changed on one beautiful summer morning.  The sun shone brightly, but a subtle vileness had entered my bedroom and darkness invaded our loving, Christian home.  Dazed by sleep, the heaviness of his body became lighter as he lifted himself off my body.  Ignoring the tears that moistened my pillow, he had quietly committed his sin and violated me.

Where was my mommy?  In a home that sheltered several adults and children, what made that morning so different from any other?  No one knew what was happening on the third floor.  There were no visible signs of life.  No little cousins were running up and down the stairs with breakfast cooking in the kitchen.

Somewhere during the night, all signs of life had disappeared.  It seemed the only ones left were my abuser and me.  I had been contaminated.  The innocence of my youth was stolen like flowers snatched from a neighbor's garden.  His stench remained in my memory even as I washed away the assault.

Devoid of conscience, he left my room silently, carrying with him something I could never reclaim.  Why did he hate me so?  We were family.  I had never wronged him the way he harmed me.  Who had convinced him to climb those stairs and commit such a crime?  This abomination would remain a secret for years before God's display of vengeance.  My numbed heart plummeted into fear.  How does a child handle fear?  Whom can she turn to when no one is really there?  Most of all, who could make him not do it again?

What happened to me had to be my fault.  Maybe Mommy should've put me away before he came, and then perhaps temptation would not have found him.  As fear began to envelop me, I attempted to resist it.  Despite my efforts, the events played back in my mind and wrenched my torn heart.  While I was hiding under the bed, my hair became tangled in the coils of the box spring mattress.  I prayed that he wouldn't find me again.  That day under the bed, my fingers gripped my skate key.  I was known for being the fastest skater in my neighborhood.  Next to Mommy, my skate key was the most important thing to me.  Had I been skating that morning, he never would've caught me.

Fear is a demon.  It holds you in the belly of a stronghold, determined not to let you go.  Fear steals from you the very breath you breathe, leaving you vulnerable and weakened.  Unable to understand the relationship between cause and effect, the only recourse for me lay in either running away or waiting in fear on the front steps each day until Mommy returned home.

The bedroom I slept in was no longer comfortable for me.  I no longer felt safe within its walls.  A thief of my free will and comfort, he remained with me even in his absence, holding me silently in mental bondage.  Some ask, "Why didn't she tell?"  You may be wondering the same thing right now.  But, after you've finished reading my book, maybe you'll come to understand the fear of a battered child.

Comment by Christopher Tiller on March 30, 2016 at 5:21pm

Hi all, I'm new here and would like to showcase my book. Not too sure where I should post it or how. Hope you can help,

Chris 

Comment by Anna L. Walls on March 31, 2016 at 11:58am

Go up above and open a discussion. You can showcase your book best there.

Comment by Christopher Tiller on March 31, 2016 at 4:52pm

Thank you, Anna. appreciated.

 

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