Thought I’d pop in. I’ve been religiously “listing” the past few days, meaning not going to bed at night before I have the next day’s to do list sitting in the middle of my desk. I’m trying to get the work done, plus clear some space in my cluttered office. So, lots to do! I was sooooo efficient yesterday, I even wove a potholder for my dd! 🙂

Anyways, I wanted to let you know about the two stories I currently have up for pre-order so you have them in your crosshairs, or better yet, so you can pre-order the books! Below the books, take a look at 4 OPEN CONTESTS you still have time to enter, and at the very bottom, I’m sharing a spooky excerpt! Let’s get started…

Mambo’s Door

Coming August 30th! This one’s f/f erotica, but if you can get past that fact, it’s a very cool story about a fledgling witch who faces Baron Samedi in limbo—it’s part witchy tale, part voodoo lore, part horror (not too much, swear), and part romance, and it’s set in New Orleans! You have to read it to figure out how those things work together. LOL! Oh, and if you’re curious, read an excerpt below!

A f/f paranormal novelette…

Ingrid Kassel is a fledgling witch, uncertain and not in complete control of her powers, especially after drinking a double-shot of vampire blood. Charged with retrieving an object buried with a daughter of the Voodoo Queen—she angers the spirit guarding the tomb and finds herself entering a shadowy limbo, where she meets beautiful Marie, living in fear of a demon who also desires the black magic candle infused with the powerful mambo’s blood.

In desperation, Marie tricks Ingrid, capturing her and seducing her to charge the candle for her own bid for freedom.

Pre-order your copy here!

Montana Bounty Hunters: Quincy

And of course, there’s a bounty hunter coming on September 24th! One I had a ton of fun writing about in my short story, “Quincy Down Under“, which you can read at the back of Big Sky Wedding, inside Stranded: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology, or as a standalone shorty! You don’t want to miss how Quincy and his beautician-in-the-bunker first met!

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS: Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

Quincy James and Tamara Adams met under less than idyllic circumstances—trapped inside her doomsday-bunker-turned-beauty-shop while he was hunting a skip. Now that he’s settled into his new job with the Montana Bounty Hunters, he knows he’s dawdled too long asking her out on a legitimate date. But then, he gets a new case right in the pretty beautician’s neck of the woods. A dangerous new assignment he doesn’t want her anywhere near. However, NOT bumping into her proves tricky, and when they do cross paths, he blows it.

Tamara’s already feeling foolish over the fact she got way too friendly with Quincy when they were trapped together, but then, he never contacts her again. When she sees him on the street in her little town, she’s ready to give him a piece of her mind, but he acts like he doesn’t know her. What they hell?

When the pair find themselves trapped together again, there’s time for a reckoning…

Pre-order your copy here!

Open Contests

These contests are still open, so be sure to enter now before they’re gone! The oldest contest is at the top!

1. Caroline Clemmons: An Agent for Magdala (Contest, FREE Read, & Excerpt) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. A Puzzle & a Contest! — Win a download of a recent release!
3. Melanie Jayne: Decision Time (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
4. Flashback: Cochise (Contest & Excerpt) — Win a download of an MBH story!

Excerpt from Mambo’s Door

A drunk on the sidewalk bumped past Ingrid Kassel.

Instinctively, she turned her head and issued a hiss, baring teeth. Not that she had fangs to back up the warning, but her temper simmered at a slow, angry boil, and her reactions weren’t entirely her own. A single taste of blood had ignited a hunger for more, it seemed, and the loss of control pissed her off.

If this was what it felt like to be a vampire, it was a damn good thing she was a witch.

Ever since Magda, the coven’s priestess, had given her Elena Csintalan’s blood to drink to lend her strength for her quest, Ingrid had fought to retain a sense of self. Read the rest of this entry »

Just to remind you, these contests are still open…

1. BIG SKY WEDDING is almost here!!! (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Caroline Clemmons: An Agent for Magdala (Contest, FREE Read, & Excerpt) — Win an Amazon gift card!

And be sure to enter today’s contest (below)!

First, let’s play!

Contest

The puzzle is a cover reveal for an upcoming re-release of story I wrote a while ago. The romance is f/f. The concept is wicked cool—set in my fave city, New Orleans, and involves a witch and a dead woman and some scary voodoo loas… For a chance to win a download of one of my recent releases, NOT Big Sky Wedding, let me know if this is something you would read.

Hi everyone! I’m so happy to back.

It’s August… That means the stores are busting with back to school supplies. As a writer, you need pens, paper, etc. BUT I’m over the top on my ‘needs.’ I may be borderline addicted to Post It Notes. And notebooks with doughnuts on them .

These are just a few…

This is better than Christmas to me. I’ve always enjoyed shopping for school supplies, but I know it can break the bank. So, when my kiddos were in school (now, I just have one so I’m not sure how to set it up) we would have a supply treasure hunt. The treasure would be the items they needed. The hunt was the best deal and coupons. Each Sunday, they would go through the sales and coupon flyers looking for the best deal. On a piece of poster board, I’d make a treasure chest for each child. From the dollar store, I’d buy a couple of packages of gem stickers. Each gem color would represent a dollar amount (i.e., red – 1 dollar, green – 4 dollars, etc.).

At the end of the treasure hunt (we usually did it for three to four weeks), we’d add up the amount of treasure in each chest. The kiddo that saved the most on his/her treasure picked out the back to school supper and was treated to a trip to the ice cream place. Some serious ‘loot’.

While my story , Treasure Hunt, has nothing to do with school supplies, it does have to do with treasure, magic, sexy pirates and a familiar that happens to a Siberian tiger, because you know—go big or go home.

Treasure Hunt

DeLaney Black Heart is the captain of The Gypsy Princess, the most feared pirate ship on the Cannequ seas, until recently. Her long-standing enemy, Falken Sands, is making good on his threat to ruin her. She is in desperate need of a large bounty to soothe her crew and reclaim her title.

Raven Kinsley is a treasure hunter. He offers DeLaney the chance to redeem herself. Only their history is stopping DeLaney from jumping on the offer. Raven abandoned her a year earlier and disappeared.

Left with no other choice, DeLaney agrees to Raven’s commission. They begin their journey to claim the lost treasure of Midas, but soon trouble surrounds them. Raven and DeLaney combine forces to battle gryphons, the possessed Falken Sands, and other creatures.

DeLaney tries to convince herself what she feels for Raven is born out of battle, not love. Raven knows he loves DeLaney, but until an old enemy is beaten, he can’t make his claim on her heart.

As secrets are revealed, they realize this is more than a mere treasure hunt. It’s a battle for their lives.

Get your copy here!

Come and hang out with me, we’ll talk about doughnuts, vodka, and books.
My blog: https://lynceeshillard.wordpress.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LynceeS/

“Why do you write ghost stories?”

It’s a question I’m often asked, especially since my novels cross genres—contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and supernatural romantic suspense.

The answer is simple:

I believe in ghosts. Have I ever seen a ghost? Yes, and no.

I’ve sensed spirits, more than once, in more than one old, abandoned building. When the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms rise, and there’s no chilly air to explain it, I know I’m in the presence of something supernatural. I’ve caught fleeting glimpses out of the corner of my eye of . . . something. A figure, a shadow, a presence that, when I turn to try and focus on it, evaporates like vapor. More than once I’ve not been alone when this happens, and my companions have had the same experience.

So yes, I do believe in ghosts, or spirits, or whatever your preferred term is. I think there are at least two kinds of hauntings: residual and intelligent. Residual hauntings are shadows of people who lived in a time past (or perhaps in the future). These apparitions are like black-and-white frames from an old movie. They are visible, or can be sensed, but keep playing over and over in an endless loop of whatever they were doing or experiencing when they were alive. You cannot communicate with residual hauntings. Over time, they gradually fade away and eventually disappear.

Intelligent hauntings, however, I believe are spirits who are trapped between this life and the next. They are stuck here, in our conscious realm, for whatever reason: a child or other person dies but does not know they are dead; a person died with some unfinished business here in this realm; they are confused, and don’t know how to “cross over.” Some of these intelligent hauntings can be communicated with, under the right circumstances. Some, angry because they’re trapped in between, can be dangerous (like poltergeists).

“How, since you work in scientific research by day, can you believe in anything paranormal?”

That’s an easy answer as well. There actually is a scientific theory, in quantum physics, of parallel universes. We may well be existing in our own conscious realm alongside those who have passed, who lived long ago, or have yet to be born. In my mind, the quantum theory explains it. Just because we don’t fully understand how it all works doesn’t mean it isn’t the way things are.

“Are your love stories between ghosts? Or between real human beings?”

No, my love stories are between very real, very human, very flawed individuals who all have issues of their own, whether inside or out, they need to resolve. They meet in some location where spirits are trapped. Sometimes they have a hard time believing in the paranormal, but one way or the other, the spirits make believers out of them. And in their quest to free the trapped spirits, they also happen to fall in love.

“Why romance plus the ghost story? Why not just write about hauntings?”

Another easy answer: because I believe in true love, and I believe in a happily-ever-after. I know most people would like to think it can be reality (thus the popularity of the romance genre), but not everyone is lucky enough to find their special soulmate. I married mine over forty years ago and have never looked back.

Also, because these are the kinds of stories I like to read: heart-melting romance laced with the thrills and chill of the supernatural. I couldn’t ever find enough to read, so I started writing my own.

In my newest release, ELECTRICITY, my heroine, Mercedes Donohue, is an electrician who fled her home in Atlanta with her teenage son after a particularly bad divorce. She’s returned to Massachusetts, where she was born and lived up until her teens, when her adoptive parents moved to Atlanta.

My hero, Daniel Gallagher, is also an electrician who works on the same team as Mercy. He has avoided any serious relationships since his fiancé was killed in a car wreck twelve years ago, after stubbornly refusing to take his advice, driving off in a terrible storm. He’s not getting involved with another stubborn, independent woman ever again.

When Mercy joins the team, though, she short-circuits his plans. The electricity between them is simply too strong.

Their first big job together is an old mental asylum, which has its share of secret tunnels and lingering, tortured spirits. Neither Mercy nor Daniel believe in ghosts, so there’s no problem, right?

The spirits of Gravely Hall figure out a way to make them believers.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/K6m8T51ziFU
Buy Link: https://amzn.to/2MdeRIY

New Release!
ELECTRICITY: A Haunted Voices Novel

She’s an electrician starting over with her son. New job. New town. New life.

He’s a coworker who’s interested in more than her ability to run conduit.

The building they’re rewiring was once an insane asylum…but it appears some of the patients never left.

Mercedes Donohue pulled up roots in Atlanta when her marriage imploded. She’s come back to New England, to the place where she was born. Mercy’s focus is to stabilize her teenage son’s life—he took the breakup pretty hard—and to establish her place, gain the respect of Progressive Electrical’s team.

She never expected so many sparks to fly so soon, both on the job and after hours.

Daniel Gallagher has been alone since his fiancé’s death. He’ll never feel that way about any woman again, and certainly won’t try with another independent, strong-willed one. Then Mercy short-circuits his plans.

Although the asylum closed its doors over thirty-five years ago, it seems some of the patients never left . . .

If you like a heart-melting romance laced with healthy dose of supernatural thrills and chills, you’ll love Electricity.

Link to Trailer: https://youtu.be/K6m8T51ziFU
Amazon Buy Link: https://amzn.to/2IJr0BD

Excerpt:

Mercy had gotten to the very last wire when the lightning struck.

At least that’s what it felt like. A burst of blue light momentarily blinded her, and a deafening crack pierced her brain. The force of the jolt blew her backwards and set her ears ringing.

The next few seconds slowed surreally. Dizzy and confused, Mercy, ladder and all, careened away from the wall in silent, slow motion. As if in a dream. No pain, no fear.

Then she landed, flat on her back on the floor, the impact rattling her jaw. Pain shot through her then as the ladder bounced off her chest once, and then settled heavy on top, pinning her to the dust-laden tile.

“DAMN it!” Mercy’s oath blew out with the last of the air in her lungs.

“What the holy hell?” Conner was standing over her in seconds, yanking the ladder off with one hand. The other two men raced over, and Daniel dropped to one knee to hold Mercy down by one shoulder.

“Don’t try to move till you’re sure nothing’s broken,” he muttered.

“I thought you said we were off at the main, Bro! Holy hell!” Jacob was wild-eyed, shoving Conner with one of his gloved hands. “You tryin’ to get us all killed?”

Mercy felt as though a horse had just trotted over her ribcage, squashing one breast under each hoof. The back of her head throbbed even though her safety helmet had protected her from a possible concussion. Her breath was coming in short, shallow bursts. “Let me up, Daniel. I’m okay,” she barked through clenched teeth, wrenching her shoulder from under his grip and sitting up.

She could not, however, feel her left hand. She stared down at the blackened fingers of her glove. Were there still operable digits under the leather? Or just charred stumps?

As though he’d read her mind, Daniel locked a strong hand around her wrist. His eyes flashed to hers once before he said, “I’m going to see what’s going on under here.” Slowly, he pressed on each finger of the glove. “Hurt?” he asked.

Mercy shook her head. “No. They’re numb. Or gone. I can’t feel them at all.”

Daniel sucked in a breath and said, “Not unusual to be numb for a while.” His eyes slid toward hers again, and she hoped he couldn’t see her fear. His gaze was steady, intense. “I’m gonna cut the glove off. Stop me if it hurts, okay?”

Mercy watched, holding her breath as Daniel wielded a pair of snips from his belt and began clipping away at the wristband of her glove. He worked methodically, gently, cradling her hand on his knee the whole time. Once he’d opened the entire back of the glove, he turned her hand over and did the same on the palm side.

He took a deep breath as he slid the cutting tool back into his belt, then raised his eyes to hers. “You ready?”

Mercy swallowed and nodded. Daniel grabbed the edges of the leather and gently worked the covering free.

She let out a whoosh of relief when she looked down on five fingers, only slightly reddened, complete with intact fingernails. They were still numb but began to tingle as she flexed her knuckles.

“Good gloves you got there,” Daniel mumbled. He flashed her a narrow gaze. “Forgot to use your tester first, huh?”

Mercy snatched her hand away, fury flaring in her chest. “I used the damned tester on the main feed, and on the first three fuses, like I always do. How the hell was I supposed to know there was more than one source to the freaking panel?”

***

About Claire Gem
Contemporary, Romantic, Soul-Freeing

Claire is an award winning-author of supernatural suspense, contemporary romance, and women’s fiction. She also writes Author Resource guide books and presents seminars on writing craft and marketing. Her supernatural suspense, Hearts Unloched, won the 2016 New York Book Festival, and was a finalist in the 2017 RONE Awards.

Claire loves exploring the paranormal and holds a certificate in Parapsychology from Duke University’s Rhine Research Center. She earned her MFA in creative writing from Lesley University.

A New York native, Claire now lives in Massachusetts with her husband of 40 years. When she’s not writing, she works for Tufts University in the field of scientific research. She is available for seminars and media interviews and loves to travel for book promotional events.

Media Links
Email: gem.writer@yahoo.com
Website: http://www.clairegem.com
Blogs: http://www.clairegem.wordpress.com
http://www.hauntedpathways.wordpress.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/clairegem.author
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/gemwriter
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8284235.Claire_Gem
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2nabvbm
Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCO-vB7WDZhEQ8U4YpC937ng

So, now that I’m caught up, blog-wise (check yesterday’s post!), I’m taking a deep breath and moving forward to talk about what happened in July and give you a view into what’s coming (hopefully) in August. Bear with me!

My Awesome-Sauce July!

July was the month I got my writing mojo back. Since the start of the year, I struggled. My dad’s health was failing, and then he passed. I actually, for the first time, began to wonder if my nearly 200 published stories were going to be it, because I found way too many excuses NOT to write. And every time I did sit my butt in the chair and poise my fingers over the keyboard, every word that popped into my head was total shit. Sorry for my French! And now, I apologize to all French people for inferring that the French language is filled with cusswords. Who made up that stupid phrase anyway?

Anyway, things turned a corner for me in July. I think it was because I got out of my mole hole of an office (it’s in the basement, no windows, thus “mole hole”). For a week in July, I attended a writer’s retreat with some writer friends and my sister, and I blew out a book in 4-1/2 days! It was just there every time I sat. I made myself squirm over the sexy bits and laugh (a lot) over the humor. I knew I was back!

The result was Hot SEAL, New Orleans Nights, which released on July 14th!

Get your copy here!

Another thing that hung like a cloud over me since last Fall was being in KDP jail. Meaning, I couldn’t put stories on pre-order in Kindle. I failed to meet a deadline while my dad was ailing, so Amazon removed the privilege, which REALLY bummed me out. First, I need solid deadlines, or I find it really hard to motivate myself to produce. Also, with pre-orders, I tend to make more sales, so I really got hit hard in the pocket book.

When I returned from the retreat, where I was super-pumped with my success, I shot off a message to Amazon to ask them what specific date I was getting out of jail, because I wanted to make some plans, and they wrote me back and said they were doing me favor. THEY LET ME OUT OF JAIL! You have no idea how happy I was. I felt as happy as the first time I sold a book to a publisher, which to a writer, is like every Christmas ever, all rolled into one joyous moment.

So, of course, I set myself a deadline. Quincy, my next Montana Bounty Hunter story, is up for pre-order now! So, if you want to make me even happier and inspired to keep working hard toward that release, go ahead and put the book on pre-order!

Pre-order now!

I was ready to dive into writing again, but I had multiple editing jobs lined up in a row and two teenagers to corral for two weeks (read yesterday’s blog to see what that’s been like), but I rolled up my sleeves and went to work finishing the editing jobs all up. I have more deadlines coming, but not so many that they will keep me from writing my own new words, so I’m feeling pretty good about where I am this last day of July!

And, if you didn’t read yesterday’s blog, I had another new release, yesterday, the prequel short story to introduce you to my sexy man, Quincy!

You know you want it. Get your copy here!

What’s coming in August!

Just a few of hints…

We are made of flesh and blood, but also stories. The stories we hear, read, imagine, are as much a part of us as our make-up as our genes or the colour of our eyes. I wouldn’t be who I am today without the stories that shape me. I’d like to tell you a little about them.

The first stories were the Celtic legends that my Welsh grandparents and my older cousin told me. Tales of magic and monsters. Shape-shifting bards. Torrent spectres. And the mysterious Otherworld, always shimmering just out of reach… at the top of the hill… deep in the forest… at the point on the horizon where sea and sky merge. I loved the Ceffyl Dwr, the Water Horse, a mythical shape-shifting creature that lives in water, but can also appear on land. I loved the merfolk too. More about them later!

I also grew up with the Nordic myths that my father used to read to me as bedtime stories. I’d go to sleep with the sound of epic battles ringing in my ears. Thor was my favourite. I was delighted to meet him again recently in the Avengers films, played by the delicious Chris Hemsworth!

When I was twelve, I read The Lord of the Rings. That story changed me. I was so sad when I finished the book, I actually cried. No more Elves or Dwarves? That couldn’t be. I decided that day that I’d become a writer, and create stories like that.

OK… it took me thirty-three years… and I never wrote that big epic novel. But I did write my own books, and eventually one of them got published. I write fantasy romance, because I love fantasy, and I think I’m a romantic at heart. The stories I heard and read as a child and teenager are still with me. The Otherworld is in my head, with all its magic, and every time I read or write a new book, it gets a little richer, a little better.

My book A Merman’s Choice was published in January by Black Velvet Seductions. It is the hot and tender story of the forbidden love between a shape-shifting merman and a human woman. Read a summary and extract below!

The second book in the series, Music for a Merman, is due out later this year. I’m currently working on the third book, where a feisty shape-shifting mermaid teams up with a warlock to save London from a water monster. I have also written a short story, “The Sweetest Magic of All”, for the supernatural romance anthology Mystic Desire by Black Velvet Seductions – pre-sale 1 September, release date 1 October. I’m so excited about it, because it’s about a witch and a warlock who go back in time, and I love witches!

A Merman’s Choice
Book 1 in the Sea of Love series

For centuries the shape-shifting mermen of the Morvann Islands have lived incognito among humans. But one of them, Yann, has developed some bad habits. Like rescuing humans, even when doing so risks revealing his true nature. When he fishes Alex out of the sea, he doesn’t expect her to reappear eight months later, and turn his life upside down by asking him to be her guide.

Alex is determined to fulfil a promise to her dying grandmother, by gathering pictures and stories of the Morvanns. But she soon discovers that, on these remote Welsh islands, legends have a habit of becoming true!

Over the course of a few days, Yann and Alex grow close. But some mermen hate humans. Their hostility, and Yann’s secret, threaten to tear the couple apart just as they are discovering that they are soul mates. Can Yann overcome the obstacles in his path and make the right choice?

Buy here! Amazon: https://amzn.to/2QglyeI
Other retailers: https://books2read.com/u/31xw7a

Excerpt

Yann went to the dresser against the wall and picked up a bottle and two glasses. “Would you like a dram of whisky to warm you up?”

Alex slid back down the sofa. His ears registered the squeak of leg against leather, and his mind instantly pictured her sprawled on the cushions, her golden hair fanned behind her head, milky thighs open wide. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the maddening image.

Her voice dropped into a seductive purr. “I’m quite warm already, thank you. But I can cope with more heat.”

He poured a glass of the golden liquid and brought it to her.

“Thank you.” She sipped it and made a grimace, which turned into a smile. “Even better than cider.”

Her mouth glowed against her milky skin like a forbidden fruit. He thought of the first summer berries, tart redcurrants, juicy raspberries. Would she taste like them?

They needed food. If he didn’t get lunch down her soon, she’d get drunk. The demon voice in his mind whispered that Alex would be great fun if she lost her inhibitions. He tried to shut the demon out. What could he prepare quickly?

He strode to the trap in the floor by the front door and lifted it. The smell and sound of seawater, sloshing in the dark, rose up.

Alex padded over to investigate. “Oh, wow. You have a whole aquarium down there!”

The corner of her blanket brushed his bare arm, sending another twig to feed the fire that smouldered in his loins. “That’s how Islanders keep their seafood fresh. Why don’t you go and sit at the table, and I’ll open a dozen oysters for you?”

She didn’t need to see the tunnel on the side of the “aquarium,” that led to the lower floor of the house, the level that flooded at high tide and opened onto the sea. The level where a more respectable merman would spend most of his time.

She moved away, to the centre of the room where the oak table stood. Not far enough. He’d become so attuned to her that every one of her movements seemed to ripple across the space and lap against his body. He grabbed a knife and bucket from the tool shelf, snapped the first oyster open and dropped it in the bucket. Now she was crossing her legs, damn her. Did she know that the woollen fabric was opening, uncovering the ivory skin of her inner thigh? Was she flirting with him, or was it his imagination?

“I love oysters.” Her voice wrapped itself around him like a silk scarf. “Pity we don’t have any champagne to go with them, but this whisky is just as good.”

Too late, he remembered that for mainlanders, oysters weren’t a cheap, quick meal. On the mainland, oysters were the food of seduction. An aphrodisiac. What if Alex was misreading his intentions?

Or rather, what if she were reading them all too well?

She patted the bench next to her. “Come and sit here. I can’t eat all these oysters on my own.”

Her grin gave the lie to her words. Her grin said, “I can gobble them all up, and you with it.”

*~*~*

What about you? Which stories shaped your life? Do you remember a favourite story from your childhood? Did a book ever change your life? I’d love to know!

Post a comment below or visit my Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/AliceRenaudAuthorRomance/
Here’s to stories, and the folk that read them!

The saying goes, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” The connection between agency and self-sufficiency is obvious. It lends itself to more modern iterations like, “Don’t give a hand out. Give a hand up.” Ministering in inner city communities that most of the business world has abandoned, I love finding examples of agency/self-sufficiency projects that show them up. I found one of my favorite success stories in Liberia: the Liberian Womens Sewing Project.

Child Liberty, the son of an exiled Liberian diplomat, was inspired by the work of Nobel prize winners Leymah Gbowee, President Ellen Sirleaf and the Liberian Women’s Peace Movement, to return to Liberia determined to use his Silicon Valley tech experience to provide economic opportunity for women. In 2010, he co-founded Liberty and Justice which I learned is Africa’s first fair-trade-certified apparel manufacturer.

The workers in their factories in Liberia and Ghana are 90% female and are paid 20% more than others in the industry. They also own 49% of the business. This means women who are often locked out of opportunities for gainful employment are not just employed but owners of their employment. The cherry on the cake is that the remaining 51% goes back into community development.

Here’s a quote from a CNN interview with Child Liberty: “We did it in post-conflict Liberia where we have women from both sides of the conflict, affected by the conflict working together, singing together, praying together and doing all these great things but also exporting t-shirts for major retailers in the United States. In that process we hope those women will lift themselves and their families out of poverty.” You can read the full story here:

http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/africa/08/09/liberia.fairtrade.women/index.html

I’ve had to deal with banks in the inner cities where I’ve pastored that want credit for community development through Community Reinvestment Act investment, but you have to fight them tooth and nail to approve projects that are as community changing as Liberty and Justice. Having been a seamstress myself (alterations a specialty) and having a grandmother who supported her family doing piecework in clothing factories here in NYC, I love that women and sewing machines are providing their own happily ever afters.

“Put It In A Book”
by Michal Scott

The daughter of ex-slaves, Aziza Williams uses her freedom to teach slaves to read, a law-breaking activity that forces her to flee the United States for the Free and Independent Republic of Liberia where her independent and injustice-confronting ways garners the unwanted sexual attention of a dibia, Dulee Morlu. In a cruel twist of fate, Morlu uses Aziza’s love for education against her and imprisons her in a book no one will ever read. He declares she will remain there until she submits to him. After a month of imprisonment, Aziza despairs that Morlu is right. Fear that she may surrender to him begins to overwhelm her until one day she senses the unfamiliar touch of Sekou Caine, an audacious and inquisitive thief, leafing through her pages.

Excerpt:

A multiple volume encyclopedia stood on shelves at chest level in a far corner. Morlu would want his wealth within easy reach. Sekou pulled down the first volume and rifled through the pages. Paper currency of all types fluttered to his feet like leaves whirling from the branches of bombax trees in winter.

Clever, Dibia. But not clever enough.

Sekou chuckled and rifled through volume after volume. By the time he reached Z a pile of money lay on the floor. He scooped the cash into his swag sack, laughing quietly at his haul.

He thrust the last volume back into place, knocking a slender manuscript off the shelf.

The Story of Aziza.

He recognized the title of the book with which Morlu had taunted him. He picked it up, fanned the pages with his thumb. A sigh drifted past him. Startled, he crouched and looked left then right. Only the night breeze disturbed the silence. He fanned through the pages again. This time a scent – light like rain, sweet like honey – graced the air.

He stared at the face of a withered old hag on the book’s cover. The image had repulsed and fascinated him. The gaze in her eyes shone with intelligence and defiance, so unlike the villagers lionizing the dibia at this moment.

Sekou opened to the flyleaf. There the image of a black beauty stared back at him. Her skin was as smooth as the hag’s was wrinkled, but the same intelligent defiance shone in her eyes. He traced the outline of her chin jutting forth with pride.

“So, ladies…” He feathered his fingers along her full lips then examined the woman on the cover again. “To which one of you does this story belong?”

#

Aziza’s chest heaved. Warmth from the intruder’s fingers suffused the book’s cover, intoxicating her mind and her spirit with hope. The rapid flutter of her prison’s pages kindled arousal along her labia. She shivered as delight saturated her deadened limbs.

Once again the rapid rifling of the pages sent tremors of pleasure through her. She knew not whose hand cradled her prison, but the respectful caress told her this couldn’t be her captor. Dared she hope this might be a person she could trust to set her free?

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