...FIRST Wild Card Tours: Author- Tyora Moody

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Tuesday, April 9, 2013

When Memories Fade (Victory Gospel Series, Book 2) by Tyora Moody

Tour Date: April 10th

When the tour date arrives, copy and paste the HTML Provided in the box. Don't forget to add your honest review if you wish! PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT ON THIS POST WHEN THE TOUR COMES AROUND!

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<div style="font-weight: bold;">
 </div>
Product Details: 
List Price: $14.95 
Paperback: 288 pages 
Publisher: Urban Books; 1 edition (March 26, 2013) 
Language: English 
ISBN-10: 160162753X 
ISBN-13: 978-1601627537 
 
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
 </div>
 
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER: 

 
 
<div style="height: 307px; overflow: auto;">
 
PROLOGUE 
She gripped the steering wheel in fear as she calculated every move he made.  For the last hour, he held the gun in her direction. What if she jerked the car off the road? No.  She wanted to live. Still the car accident had to be better than what he would do to her. She had no idea where they were going. 
           “Pull over, right up here.” He turned his hot breath on her. “Do it now.” 
With as much ease as her trembling body allowed, she slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. There hadn't been another car for miles on this back road.  The sun had disappeared as cloudy, dark gray skies loomed ahead. 
He cocked the gun towards her chest. “Get out.” 
Her hands felt ice-cold as she struggled to grasp the door handle. 
“Come on,” he growled. 
             She yanked the door handle and scrambled out of the car to face her abductor. 
          The man waved the gun and yelled, “Start walking.” 
Sticks and leaves crunched as they walked into the mass of trees. From a distance, she saw lightning streak across the sky. A cool breeze whipped through the trees but it brought no comfort.  Her heart raced as if she had just run a marathon.  She choked back a sob. He was going to kill her. 
To think how much she had trusted him.  It never would have crossed her mind that he would hurt her.  More lightning split the sky followed by an intense rumble of thunder. The trees shook their limbs as if taunting her for being so naïve. 
“Stop.” 
She turned and noticed he’d cocked his head like he heard something. Was someone else out here? 
He swung the gun an inch from her temple. “Get down.” 
“What?” 
“Get on your knees,” he snarled. 
She fell on her knees, feeling the earth beneath her.  Her heart lurched as the thunder roared like an angry lion above their heads. Big drops of rain began to crash around them. She shut her eyes tight not believing this was her fate. “Please, God help me,” she prayed fervently. 
When she opened her eyes an answer laid near her, barely covered by leaves.  She glanced up at him. His eyes had grown wilder as he paced around her. He seemed to be having a conversation, but she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. The rain was falling harder now, soaking her clothes. She peered down at the ground again. Why not? What did she have to lose? She had to do something. 
She scooped the smooth rock from the muddy ground. Her dormant softball skills kicked in as she zoned in on his hand.  Not waiting another second, she swung the rock with all her might. 
      The rock smacked him square on the hand and he dropped the gun. “No, you …” 
       She leapt forward like a track runner and headed into the trees. As she ran, the oddest memory of a Sunday School lesson entered her mind. The one about Lot’s wife. God told her not to look back, but she did and lost her life. 
His voice bellowed behind her. 
“Don’t look back,” She told herself as she ran. “Don’t. Look. Back.” 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER ONE 
Charlotte, North Carolina, 2011 
  “We both know she’s dead.” Angel Roberts tightened her grip around the steering wheel, realizing too late, she’d destroyed a beautiful evening. A harsh silence sucked the air from inside the car. 
 After a minute, her grandmother responded softly, but firm. “Angel, I can never give up hope.” 
Angel took her eyes off the road to peer at her grandmother’s face. A warmth of shame washed over Angel as she witnessed the pain in Fredricka Robert’s eyes. Why now? It was my birthday. 
Less than fifteen minutes ago, Angel had driven away from Victory Gospel Church, still grateful for the love shown to her. A year ago, Angel would have never imagined herself regularly attending church, and definitely not Bible study. Tonight, the members of the Overcomers Women’s Ministry presented Angel with a surprise twenty-fifth birthday celebration. Angel had loaded the almost-eaten butter cream cake and birthday gifts into the back seat, not realizing her joy would be short-lived. 
Angel slowed the car down as she approached the red light. All was well until her grandmother said, “You look so much like your mother when she was twenty-five.” 
Despite confessing her faith in Christ nine months ago at Victory Gospel Church, Angel continued to struggle with resentment. It seemed like every year, Angel’s birthday turned into more of a memorial for her mother.  There was this gap between Angel and her grandmother, where her mother should have been. Angel barely remembered the woman who disappeared twenty years ago. 
The question that haunted Angel the most was the same one that brought her grandmother hope. What if her mother were alive? To Angel that meant Elisa Roberts had abandoned her daughter. That night after Angel’s fifth birthday party, her mother walked out and never returned.  Elisa had provided no clue to where she was going or if she was going to meet someone. Just vanished. Foul play or on purpose. Surely, her grandmother didn’t want to hope in finding the woman who did the latter. 
As she drove through the green light, Angel chided herself for getting angry with her grandmother. It was just her and Grams now. She cleared her throat, “Grams, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt out we know my mother’s dead. We don’t really know.” 
No response. 
She glanced at her grandmother. Fredricka’s face was turned towards the passenger window. Not wanting to upset her grandmother anymore tonight, Angel became engrossed in her own thoughts. What Angel didn’t want was for Grams to find out what she was doing. She was on a mission to find out what or who led to her mother’s disappearance.  Five years ago, she’d started working on a documentary of her mother’s life, before various circumstances led her off track. Now she was determined to complete the project. Anything to bring attention to her mother’s short-lived legacy. 
Her grandparents had raised her, doing their best to keep memories of her mother alive. Even though she was young, Angel remembered her mother being sad all the time. Angel was born a few months after a devastating break-up between Angel’s mother and father. It didn’t help that her mother, a protégée, struggled to regain her footing in a once promising singing career while trying to raise Angel. 
In many ways, Elisa showed signs of desperately wanting a new life or either ending the dismal life she had perceived she had.  Reaching her own breaking point four years ago, Angel longed for a connection with her mother. 
Angel maneuvered her grandfather’s old Buick into the driveway of the only place she called home. Her grandmother shuffled behind her as they made their way down the cobblestone walkway towards the front door. Once inside, Angel headed toward the kitchen to find a spot for the leftover cake inside the refrigerator.  She had an urge to leave the cake out and eat the rest of it, but weariness invaded her body. She slammed the fridge door shut and turned around. “Whoa, Grams-” Her grandmother had managed to sneak up behind her. Angel didn’t remember hearing her walk in the kitchen. 
Her grandmother sputtered, “Angel, we should have stopped by the store on the way home.” 
Angel frowned. Maybe she had agitated her grandmother too much with her outburst in the car. “I can go back out, Grams. It’s not a problem. What do you need?” 
“Aspirin.”  Fredricka held her hand to head. “I’m not feeling well.” 
Angel placed her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Why don’t you lie down? I will bring you some aspirin. I’m sure we already have a bottle.” 
Angel walked across the kitchen to the cabinet where they kept a medicine supply. She searched among the orange and white labeled bottles. There were so many bottles. A lot of the labels bore her deceased grandfather’s name.  She really needed to work with Grams to throw away his old medicine.  Finally, Angel saw a bottle of aspirin. “Here is the bottle.”Angel flipped the bottle in her hand to check the expiration date. 
A forceful thump startled her. Angel turned around. “Grams!” she cried out. She ran over and knelt beside her grandmother on the linoleum floor. 
The right side of her grandmother’s face twitched. “Ang…” 
Before Angel could stop them, tears sprang to life, blurring her vision. “Grams, hang in there. You are going to be okay.” 
Angel sprinted to the phone on the wall and with trembling fingers, she dialed 9-1-1. Oh God, please don’t take Grams yet. 
 </div>

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It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Tyora Moody

and the book:

When Memories Fade
(Victory Gospel Series, Book 2)

Urban Books; 1 edition (March 26, 2013)

***Special thanks to Tyora Moody for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tyora Moody is an author and entrepreneur. The second book in the Victory Gospel Series, When Memories Fade, will be released in April 2013. Her debut novel and the first book in the Victory Gospel Series, When Rain Falls, was released March 2012. Deep Fried Trouble, the first book in the Eugeena Patterson Mystery series will be released June 2013.

Tyora has coined her books as Soul-Searching Suspense. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and American Christian Fiction Writers. Tyora served as a judge for the Christy Awards for three years. She can be found online at TyoraMoody.com and Facebook.com/AuthorTyoraMoody.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

How do I let go of my past to receive God’s future for me?

Angel Roberts has embraced her new faith, but past memories remain fresh. When her beloved grandmother suffers a stroke, Angel sets out to investigate a mystery that has created family tensions and lingered since she was five years old. What happened to her mother?

She teams up with investigative reporter, Wes Cade, a man obsessed with his Alzheimer stricken grandfather’s remaining memories. As Angel lets her guard down with Wes, his determination to get the story could push her to the edge. Is his interest in her or the story?

Angel must conquer her fears to find the truth. Unknown to her someone close is working feverishly to stop Angel from unlocking the truth of what really happened to her mother. Who will win?

Product Details:
List Price: $14.95
Paperback: 288 pages
Publisher: Urban Books; 1 edition (March 26, 2013)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 160162753X
ISBN-13: 978-1601627537

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

PROLOGUE
She gripped the steering wheel in fear as she calculated every move he made. For the last hour, he held the gun in her direction. What if she jerked the car off the road? No. She wanted to live. Still the car accident had to be better than what he would do to her. She had no idea where they were going.
“Pull over, right up here.” He turned his hot breath on her. “Do it now.”
With as much ease as her trembling body allowed, she slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. There hadn't been another car for miles on this back road. The sun had disappeared as cloudy, dark gray skies loomed ahead.
He cocked the gun towards her chest. “Get out.”
Her hands felt ice-cold as she struggled to grasp the door handle.
“Come on,” he growled.
She yanked the door handle and scrambled out of the car to face her abductor.
The man waved the gun and yelled, “Start walking.”
Sticks and leaves crunched as they walked into the mass of trees. From a distance, she saw lightning streak across the sky. A cool breeze whipped through the trees but it brought no comfort. Her heart raced as if she had just run a marathon. She choked back a sob. He was going to kill her.
To think how much she had trusted him. It never would have crossed her mind that he would hurt her. More lightning split the sky followed by an intense rumble of thunder. The trees shook their limbs as if taunting her for being so naïve.
“Stop.”
She turned and noticed he’d cocked his head like he heard something. Was someone else out here?
He swung the gun an inch from her temple. “Get down.”
“What?”
“Get on your knees,” he snarled.
She fell on her knees, feeling the earth beneath her. Her heart lurched as the thunder roared like an angry lion above their heads. Big drops of rain began to crash around them. She shut her eyes tight not believing this was her fate. “Please, God help me,” she prayed fervently.
When she opened her eyes an answer laid near her, barely covered by leaves. She glanced up at him. His eyes had grown wilder as he paced around her. He seemed to be having a conversation, but she couldn’t understand a word he was saying. The rain was falling harder now, soaking her clothes. She peered down at the ground again. Why not? What did she have to lose? She had to do something.
She scooped the smooth rock from the muddy ground. Her dormant softball skills kicked in as she zoned in on his hand. Not waiting another second, she swung the rock with all her might.
The rock smacked him square on the hand and he dropped the gun. “No, you …”
She leapt forward like a track runner and headed into the trees. As she ran, the oddest memory of a Sunday School lesson entered her mind. The one about Lot’s wife. God told her not to look back, but she did and lost her life.
His voice bellowed behind her.
“Don’t look back,” She told herself as she ran. “Don’t. Look. Back.”

CHAPTER ONE
Charlotte, North Carolina, 2011
“We both know she’s dead.” Angel Roberts tightened her grip around the steering wheel, realizing too late, she’d destroyed a beautiful evening. A harsh silence sucked the air from inside the car.
After a minute, her grandmother responded softly, but firm. “Angel, I can never give up hope.”
Angel took her eyes off the road to peer at her grandmother’s face. A warmth of shame washed over Angel as she witnessed the pain in Fredricka Robert’s eyes. Why now? It was my birthday.
Less than fifteen minutes ago, Angel had driven away from Victory Gospel Church, still grateful for the love shown to her. A year ago, Angel would have never imagined herself regularly attending church, and definitely not Bible study. Tonight, the members of the Overcomers Women’s Ministry presented Angel with a surprise twenty-fifth birthday celebration. Angel had loaded the almost-eaten butter cream cake and birthday gifts into the back seat, not realizing her joy would be short-lived.
Angel slowed the car down as she approached the red light. All was well until her grandmother said, “You look so much like your mother when she was twenty-five.”
Despite confessing her faith in Christ nine months ago at Victory Gospel Church, Angel continued to struggle with resentment. It seemed like every year, Angel’s birthday turned into more of a memorial for her mother. There was this gap between Angel and her grandmother, where her mother should have been. Angel barely remembered the woman who disappeared twenty years ago.
The question that haunted Angel the most was the same one that brought her grandmother hope. What if her mother were alive? To Angel that meant Elisa Roberts had abandoned her daughter. That night after Angel’s fifth birthday party, her mother walked out and never returned. Elisa had provided no clue to where she was going or if she was going to meet someone. Just vanished. Foul play or on purpose. Surely, her grandmother didn’t want to hope in finding the woman who did the latter.
As she drove through the green light, Angel chided herself for getting angry with her grandmother. It was just her and Grams now. She cleared her throat, “Grams, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt out we know my mother’s dead. We don’t really know.”
No response.
She glanced at her grandmother. Fredricka’s face was turned towards the passenger window. Not wanting to upset her grandmother anymore tonight, Angel became engrossed in her own thoughts. What Angel didn’t want was for Grams to find out what she was doing. She was on a mission to find out what or who led to her mother’s disappearance. Five years ago, she’d started working on a documentary of her mother’s life, before various circumstances led her off track. Now she was determined to complete the project. Anything to bring attention to her mother’s short-lived legacy.
Her grandparents had raised her, doing their best to keep memories of her mother alive. Even though she was young, Angel remembered her mother being sad all the time. Angel was born a few months after a devastating break-up between Angel’s mother and father. It didn’t help that her mother, a protégée, struggled to regain her footing in a once promising singing career while trying to raise Angel.
In many ways, Elisa showed signs of desperately wanting a new life or either ending the dismal life she had perceived she had. Reaching her own breaking point four years ago, Angel longed for a connection with her mother.
Angel maneuvered her grandfather’s old Buick into the driveway of the only place she called home. Her grandmother shuffled behind her as they made their way down the cobblestone walkway towards the front door. Once inside, Angel headed toward the kitchen to find a spot for the leftover cake inside the refrigerator. She had an urge to leave the cake out and eat the rest of it, but weariness invaded her body. She slammed the fridge door shut and turned around. “Whoa, Grams-” Her grandmother had managed to sneak up behind her. Angel didn’t remember hearing her walk in the kitchen.
Her grandmother sputtered, “Angel, we should have stopped by the store on the way home.”
Angel frowned. Maybe she had agitated her grandmother too much with her outburst in the car. “I can go back out, Grams. It’s not a problem. What do you need?”
“Aspirin.” Fredricka held her hand to head. “I’m not feeling well.”
Angel placed her hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Why don’t you lie down? I will bring you some aspirin. I’m sure we already have a bottle.”
Angel walked across the kitchen to the cabinet where they kept a medicine supply. She searched among the orange and white labeled bottles. There were so many bottles. A lot of the labels bore her deceased grandfather’s name. She really needed to work with Grams to throw away his old medicine. Finally, Angel saw a bottle of aspirin. “Here is the bottle.”Angel flipped the bottle in her hand to check the expiration date.
A forceful thump startled her. Angel turned around. “Grams!” she cried out. She ran over and knelt beside her grandmother on the linoleum floor.
The right side of her grandmother’s face twitched. “Ang…”
Before Angel could stop them, tears sprang to life, blurring her vision. “Grams, hang in there. You are going to be okay.”
Angel sprinted to the phone on the wall and with trembling fingers, she dialed 9-1-1. Oh God, please don’t take Grams yet.

Monday, March 5, 2012

When Rain Falls by Tyora Moody

Tour Date: March 7, 2012

When the tour date arrives, copy and paste the HTML Provided in the box. Don't forget to add your honest review if you wish! PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT ON THIS POST WHEN THE TOUR COMES AROUND!

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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdT7neC65_evFoN5ybKnG8e-0qFvuQF8Qbyxc3fmqnD9hQr5F4ZOPZTcFkx6hO8B0JxukCCLKeu_0Cyiff4U79hSIMrYyjlkFxBy8S3V1oTP4tYcMYJ2VlW3YvH_VaZM981DmP1M8B-g/s1600/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg"></a><a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdT7neC65_evFoN5ybKnG8e-0qFvuQF8Qbyxc3fmqnD9hQr5F4ZOPZTcFkx6hO8B0JxukCCLKeu_0Cyiff4U79hSIMrYyjlkFxBy8S3V1oTP4tYcMYJ2VlW3YvH_VaZM981DmP1M8B-g/s200/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;" /></a>It is time for a <a href="http://firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com/">FIRST Wild Card Tour</a> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
 
 
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
 
 
 
 
<div align="center">
Today's Wild Card author is: 
</div>
 
<div align="center">
<a href="http://www.tyoramoody.com./">Tyora Moody</a>
</div>
 
<div align="center">
and the book: 
</div>
 
<div align="center">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1601628226">When Rain Falls</a>
</div>
<div align="center">
Urban Christian; Original edition (February 28, 2012)
</div>
<div align="center">
 </div>
***Special thanks to Tyora Moody for sending me a review copy.***
 
 
<div align="left">
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: </div>
 
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqyNtFk4XdL2sZP2WnMRuG77UsoLcJXisUU999GJ1hxlBN3ZXAt5TPkJdIWiRotDb3hqBlKPxuKnBpMZ_z4FRWWnmlN2dz35tINJTG1xH7Aaz-po0cjafr-I7GEkKSal495mxC6rZRvI/s1600/T_Moody_author-0305-smaller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqyNtFk4XdL2sZP2WnMRuG77UsoLcJXisUU999GJ1hxlBN3ZXAt5TPkJdIWiRotDb3hqBlKPxuKnBpMZ_z4FRWWnmlN2dz35tINJTG1xH7Aaz-po0cjafr-I7GEkKSal495mxC6rZRvI/s200/T_Moody_author-0305-smaller.jpg" width="148" /></a></div>
 
Tyora  Moody's debut novel, When Rain Falls, is the first book in the Victory Gospel series. She owns and operates Tywebbin.com, a design and marketing company. Her company’s niche is assisting authors with branding and developing an online presence. As an avid bookworm, she manages two book blogs, WrittenVoicesBlog.com and ChristianBookwormReviews.com. Tyora has also served as a judge for the Christy Awards. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and American Christian Fiction Writers. 
 
Visit the author's <a href="http://www.tyoramoody.com./">website</a>.
 
 
<div align="left">
SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION: </div>
 
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdvPNUy0RSo4PXuAxixd0bzxLItR8Dc5aIUSQ4asQ0MZvtPvUBt9nEeyiWf4I64vvFlK_Bb07Qwouz1lksn5tXJKKlQyl0R2i3xhJwRrdsyAGylZlv3TaJ51YmnA8hYNWplhWjGHXP4I/s1600/WHEN-RAIN-FALLS-FINAL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdvPNUy0RSo4PXuAxixd0bzxLItR8Dc5aIUSQ4asQ0MZvtPvUBt9nEeyiWf4I64vvFlK_Bb07Qwouz1lksn5tXJKKlQyl0R2i3xhJwRrdsyAGylZlv3TaJ51YmnA8hYNWplhWjGHXP4I/s200/WHEN-RAIN-FALLS-FINAL.jpg" width="131" /></a> 
 “Why does God keep taking away the people I love?” This is the lamentation of widow CANDACE JOHNSON when her best friend is brutally murdered. Ensnared by a deep-rooted bitterness, seeping her faith day by day, Candace is determined to seek justice. 
 
Detective Darnell Jackson is in need of clues fast. The police captain is coming down hard on him and his partner to find out who murdered Pamela Coleman, the daughter of a high profile judge. 
 
Darnell confers with Candace to get the inside track on events leading up to the murder. As the investigation heats up, his growing attraction for Candace plays havoc on Darnell’s judgment. 
 
Little does she know, Candace’s quest to find the truth has led her straight to the killer. She’s already lost loved ones. Now Candace must choose to completely trust God with her own life. 
 
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="301" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/j3OV19T9Cx8" width="400"></iframe>
 
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
 </div>
Product Details: 
List Price: $14.95 
 
Paperback: 288 pages 
Publisher: Urban Christian; Original edition (February 28, 2012) 
Language: English 
ISBN-10: 1601628226 
ISBN-13: 978-1601628220 
 
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
 </div>
 
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER: 

 
 
<div style="height: 307px; overflow: auto;">
 
Excerpt from WHEN RAIN FALLS  by Tyora Moody  
RELEASE DATE: March 2012 
ISBN-10: 1601628226 
ISBN-13: 978-1601628220)  
PROLOGUE 
Bronx, New York, 1981 
      Twisting her torso around, the girl strained against the seat belt to peek through the police car’s back window. Lights burned from several nearby houses, creating an eerie glow against the damp night sky. A number of sleepy-eyed neighbors lined the street, their attention focused toward a small white house, now decorated with yellow tape around the yard. 
      The front door opened, spilling bright lights onto the tiny porch. Two police officers walked out with a man between them. The cops were tall, but not nearly as tall as the handcuffed man, whose arms were muscular and huge. The girl tensed, her eyes drawn toward the man’s white tank top, which revealed more than his furry chest. Bright and dark reds merged into a strange starburst pattern around his middle. 
      He turned his head in her direction, his narrowed eyes hunting for her. The flashing blue lights danced across his face, highlighting his light brown eyes. His lips parted, showing off perfect white teeth. He’d found her. Like always, his smile stopped at the curves of his mouth, never reaching his eyes. She never knew if he liked or hated her. Sucking back air, she ducked below the window. A whimper escaped between her ragged breaths. She didn’t want him near her. Not ever again. 
      A wave of warmth, then cold, rippled through her body, causing her to tremble. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, feeling tiny bumps on her skin through the thin pajama top. The cheeseburger and fries she’d eaten hours before gurgled in her stomach, threatening to be released. Without warning, one of the back doors opened. She screeched and pressed into the corner of the seat, believing her worst nightmare had broken free. 
      Instead, a cop leaned into the car and asked, “Hey. Are you all right in here?”  
      No, I’m not all right. Can’t you see I’m freaking out? But her mouth wouldn’t cooperate with her brain. 
      The cop poked his head back out of the car. “Hey, where’s the social worker?”  
      A man with a rough voice yelled back something, but she couldn’t understand what he said. Staring at the cop, she pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her bony knees. Wait, something didn’t feel right on her face. Lifting her right hand, she touched the side of her face. The skin felt ragged and sore. When she pulled her hand away, she saw dark stains on her fingers. Was that her blood or . . . ? She dug her nails into her palm, hiding her hand behind her back. 
      Outside the police car, someone walked up behind the cop and handed him a plastic grocery bag. He didn’t pull out food. Instead, he pulled something gray and furry from the bag and extended it to her. The cop frowned. “Looks like you have an injury there. We’ll get someone to take a look at it. Right now, I think you could use a little buddy. I have a daughter. Got a room full of these things.” 
      Man, I’m not a baby. She’d always been too small or too short, and the cop must have thought she was a lot younger than her twelve years. She took the stuffed animal, anyway, not really sure what to do with it. The cop shut the back door and then jumped in the front seat. As the car engine cranked to life, she examined the fuzzy stuffed animal. With its round ears, it could’ve been a bear or a mouse. She didn’t really care. 
      Slowly, she opened her fist, almost expecting the stains to be gone. They weren’t. Her face grew warmer as she wondered what would happen now. Turning to risk another look at the house, she sniffled. Two men walked inside, rolling a stretcher between them. Tears clouded her vision. 
      The cop said something from the front seat, but she wasn’t listening. Using the back of her sleeve, she wiped away the wetness crawling down her cheeks. She wanted to scream. Again. Bringing the stuffed bear or mouse closer to her face, she squeezed with both arms and hid her face in the soft fur. As the car pulled away from the house, her head throbbed. She could still hear the screaming and shouting. 
      I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry. 
<div align="center">
CHAPTER ONE </div>
Charlotte, North Carolina, 2008 
      “What’s going on?” Candace Johnson sat up in the bed and waited. Either the cellular company had dropped the call or her friend was on the line, probably twirling a lock of hair, her mind elsewhere. She fired off, “Pamela, are you still there?” 
      “I’m here,” Pamela shot back. Her friend let out a deep sigh. “There’s a lot I’m trying to process right now. It’s late. Let’s talk tomorrow.” 
      Tomorrow. “You’re kidding me, right?” Nothing rattled Pamela Coleman, but only a few minutes ago Pamela had called with a shaky voice, saying, “We have to talk.” There was no way Pamela could leave the conversation hanging until the morning. 
      “I’m tired, Candace. To be quite honest, I may not be thinking straight.” 
      Candace pulled the covers up closer to her body. It wasn’t unusual for them to talk until the wee hours of the morning, but she knew not to push her friend. “Where are you, anyway? Are you still at the art gallery reception this late?” 
      “No, I’m on my way home.” 
      “All right, girlfriend. I hope you get a good night’s sleep. There will be no excuses tomorrow. I expect you to spill everything.” 
      “I hope I can. You get some sleep, too.” 
      The dial tone buzzed in her ear for a few seconds before she hung up the cordless phone. Sleep. That’s a joke. 
      Out of habit, Candace slipped out of the bed and walked over to the window. She lifted one of the blind slats to peer out onto the street. It had been over a year and a half since the police department had provided protection for her family during the night. Now it seemed the police no longer cared. Other cases took priority, she guessed. Maybe it was all her imagination, overcome by grief and loss. 
      Rain pelted the roof and windows. The kind of rain that could coax a person into a deep, restful sleep. Candace wished. A full night’s sleep had become a lost luxury, but she would try to close her eyes. As she climbed under her favorite quilt, uneasiness settled over her mind. Again. Another long night awaited her. 
       She could blame her sleeplessness on the late-night pizza session with the kids, but she knew better. Even Pamela’s ominous call didn’t help matters. It was the past that kept her staring at the ceiling, walking beside her like a maddening visitor, just hanging around, with no signs of departure. 
      Stealing her sleep, her peace. 
      She gripped the quilt, hugging it close to her body. Her aunt always said, “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Candace didn’t care about being strong. She wanted answers. 
      She stared into the darkness, beyond the clock, to where the glow illuminated a man’s features. The photo was barely visible, but Candace had it memorized. In her mind, she could see 
Detective Frank Johnson dressed in his uniform. Though his smile was serious, his deep dimples still made an appearance. 
      Almost seventeen years of marriage. Her protector. 
      Seemed like everyone these days told her the same thing. “Frank would’ve wanted you to move on.” How could she? Her Frank believed in justice. In the end, her husband received none. That haunted her. 
      She did need to get herself together. Her children had been through enough. She didn’t need Rachel and Daniel worrying about their mother. More than anything she wanted them to enjoy their youth. She didn’t want them to experience the pain she struggled through at their age from losing a parent. 
      So Candace meditated on the rain, willing her eyes to grow heavy. 
      Mama! 
      Her eyes flew open, and then she smacked the pillow. Even as she resolved to put the familiar memory out of her mind, questions lingered. Why now? 
      Almost thirty years had passed since that night. It seemed like every now and then Mama decided to visit her in a dream. Images of the beautiful, troubled woman who birthed her often were like a bittersweet reunion. But sometimes he would show up, too. 
      Candace was no longer afraid of him. She’d made sure to track down his whereabouts after Frank’s death just to be sure her childhood bogeyman had not returned. She knew he wasn’t a threat to her anymore. 
      Still, she knew sleep would not come tonight. She refused to close her eyes. Like that night long ago, it felt like God had stopped by to shake her around like one of those snow globes. Where would the pieces of her life fall like those flakes? Candace wasn’t sure she wanted to know. 
      Candace focused her thoughts on the earlier phone call. Pamela, what do you have to tell me tomorrow? 
      I will never leave you or forsake you. 
      He made sure to park the car a distance away. Then he walked, being careful to avoid the streetlights, closer to the house. He was in a crime-watch zone. No need to make neighbors suspicious. The night’s events had put him on edge. All he wanted to do was bury the past and move on. But no, she had dug it all back up again, practically accusing him. He would deal with the situation soon enough. 
      For now, it was time to visit an old friend. 
      With the stealth that he’d used many times to break into homes, he crept forward until he reached the oak tree located parallel to the house. He peered around the trunk and looked up toward the window. 
      The house was dark, but he knew. She’s awake. Thinking about me. 
      He smiled. 
</div>

***************************************************************************

Today's Wild Card author is:

Tyora Moody

and the book:

When Rain Falls

Urban Christian; Original edition (February 28, 2012)

***Special thanks to Tyora Moody for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Tyora Moody's debut novel, When Rain Falls, is the first book in the Victory Gospel series. She owns and operates Tywebbin.com, a design and marketing company. Her company’s niche is assisting authors with branding and developing an online presence. As an avid bookworm, she manages two book blogs, WrittenVoicesBlog.com and ChristianBookwormReviews.com. Tyora has also served as a judge for the Christy Awards. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and American Christian Fiction Writers.

Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

“Why does God keep taking away the people I love?” This is the lamentation of widow CANDACE JOHNSON when her best friend is brutally murdered. Ensnared by a deep-rooted bitterness, seeping her faith day by day, Candace is determined to seek justice.

Detective Darnell Jackson is in need of clues fast. The police captain is coming down hard on him and his partner to find out who murdered Pamela Coleman, the daughter of a high profile judge.

Darnell confers with Candace to get the inside track on events leading up to the murder. As the investigation heats up, his growing attraction for Candace plays havoc on Darnell’s judgment.

Little does she know, Candace’s quest to find the truth has led her straight to the killer. She’s already lost loved ones. Now Candace must choose to completely trust God with her own life.

Product Details:
List Price: $14.95

Paperback: 288 pages
Publisher: Urban Christian; Original edition (February 28, 2012)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1601628226
ISBN-13: 978-1601628220

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Excerpt from
WHEN RAIN FALLS
by Tyora Moody
RELEASE DATE: March 2012
ISBN-10: 1601628226
ISBN-13: 978-1601628220)
PROLOGUE

Bronx, New York, 1981
      Twisting her torso around, the girl strained against the seat belt to peek through the police car’s back window. Lights burned from several nearby houses, creating an eerie glow against the damp night sky. A number of sleepy-eyed neighbors lined the street, their attention focused toward a small white house, now decorated with yellow tape around the yard.
      The front door opened, spilling bright lights onto the tiny porch. Two police officers walked out with a man between them. The cops were tall, but not nearly as tall as the handcuffed man, whose arms were muscular and huge. The girl tensed, her eyes drawn toward the man’s white tank top, which revealed more than his furry chest. Bright and dark reds merged into a strange starburst pattern around his middle.
      He turned his head in her direction, his narrowed eyes hunting for her. The flashing blue lights danced across his face, highlighting his light brown eyes. His lips parted, showing off perfect white teeth. He’d found her. Like always, his smile stopped at the curves of his mouth, never reaching his eyes. She never knew if he liked or hated her. Sucking back air, she ducked below the window. A whimper escaped between her ragged breaths. She didn’t want him near her. Not ever again.
      A wave of warmth, then cold, rippled through her body, causing her to tremble. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, feeling tiny bumps on her skin through the thin pajama top. The cheeseburger and fries she’d eaten hours before gurgled in her stomach, threatening to be released. Without warning, one of the back doors opened. She screeched and pressed into the corner of the seat, believing her worst nightmare had broken free.
      Instead, a cop leaned into the car and asked, “Hey. Are you all right in here?”
      No, I’m not all right. Can’t you see I’m freaking out? But her mouth wouldn’t cooperate with her brain.
      The cop poked his head back out of the car. “Hey, where’s the social worker?”
      A man with a rough voice yelled back something, but she couldn’t understand what he said. Staring at the cop, she pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her bony knees. Wait, something didn’t feel right on her face. Lifting her right hand, she touched the side of her face. The skin felt ragged and sore. When she pulled her hand away, she saw dark stains on her fingers. Was that her blood or . . . ? She dug her nails into her palm, hiding her hand behind her back.
      Outside the police car, someone walked up behind the cop and handed him a plastic grocery bag. He didn’t pull out food. Instead, he pulled something gray and furry from the bag and extended it to her. The cop frowned. “Looks like you have an injury there. We’ll get someone to take a look at it. Right now, I think you could use a little buddy. I have a daughter. Got a room full of these things.”
      Man, I’m not a baby. She’d always been too small or too short, and the cop must have thought she was a lot younger than her twelve years. She took the stuffed animal, anyway, not really sure what to do with it. The cop shut the back door and then jumped in the front seat. As the car engine cranked to life, she examined the fuzzy stuffed animal. With its round ears, it could’ve been a bear or a mouse. She didn’t really care.
      Slowly, she opened her fist, almost expecting the stains to be gone. They weren’t. Her face grew warmer as she wondered what would happen now. Turning to risk another look at the house, she sniffled. Two men walked inside, rolling a stretcher between them. Tears clouded her vision.
      The cop said something from the front seat, but she wasn’t listening. Using the back of her sleeve, she wiped away the wetness crawling down her cheeks. She wanted to scream. Again. Bringing the stuffed bear or mouse closer to her face, she squeezed with both arms and hid her face in the soft fur. As the car pulled away from the house, her head throbbed. She could still hear the screaming and shouting.
      I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry.

CHAPTER ONE

Charlotte, North Carolina, 2008
      “What’s going on?” Candace Johnson sat up in the bed and waited. Either the cellular company had dropped the call or her friend was on the line, probably twirling a lock of hair, her mind elsewhere. She fired off, “Pamela, are you still there?”
      “I’m here,” Pamela shot back. Her friend let out a deep sigh. “There’s a lot I’m trying to process right now. It’s late. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
      Tomorrow. “You’re kidding me, right?” Nothing rattled Pamela Coleman, but only a few minutes ago Pamela had called with a shaky voice, saying, “We have to talk.” There was no way Pamela could leave the conversation hanging until the morning.
      “I’m tired, Candace. To be quite honest, I may not be thinking straight.”
      Candace pulled the covers up closer to her body. It wasn’t unusual for them to talk until the wee hours of the morning, but she knew not to push her friend. “Where are you, anyway? Are you still at the art gallery reception this late?”
      “No, I’m on my way home.”
      “All right, girlfriend. I hope you get a good night’s sleep. There will be no excuses tomorrow. I expect you to spill everything.”
      “I hope I can. You get some sleep, too.”
      The dial tone buzzed in her ear for a few seconds before she hung up the cordless phone. Sleep. That’s a joke.
      Out of habit, Candace slipped out of the bed and walked over to the window. She lifted one of the blind slats to peer out onto the street. It had been over a year and a half since the police department had provided protection for her family during the night. Now it seemed the police no longer cared. Other cases took priority, she guessed. Maybe it was all her imagination, overcome by grief and loss.
      Rain pelted the roof and windows. The kind of rain that could coax a person into a deep, restful sleep. Candace wished. A full night’s sleep had become a lost luxury, but she would try to close her eyes. As she climbed under her favorite quilt, uneasiness settled over her mind. Again. Another long night awaited her.
       She could blame her sleeplessness on the late-night pizza session with the kids, but she knew better. Even Pamela’s ominous call didn’t help matters. It was the past that kept her staring at the ceiling, walking beside her like a maddening visitor, just hanging around, with no signs of departure.
      Stealing her sleep, her peace.
      She gripped the quilt, hugging it close to her body. Her aunt always said, “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Candace didn’t care about being strong. She wanted answers.
      She stared into the darkness, beyond the clock, to where the glow illuminated a man’s features. The photo was barely visible, but Candace had it memorized. In her mind, she could see
Detective Frank Johnson dressed in his uniform. Though his smile was serious, his deep dimples still made an appearance.
      Almost seventeen years of marriage. Her protector.
      Seemed like everyone these days told her the same thing. “Frank would’ve wanted you to move on.” How could she? Her Frank believed in justice. In the end, her husband received none. That haunted her.
      She did need to get herself together. Her children had been through enough. She didn’t need Rachel and Daniel worrying about their mother. More than anything she wanted them to enjoy their youth. She didn’t want them to experience the pain she struggled through at their age from losing a parent.
      So Candace meditated on the rain, willing her eyes to grow heavy.
      Mama!
      Her eyes flew open, and then she smacked the pillow. Even as she resolved to put the familiar memory out of her mind, questions lingered. Why now?
      Almost thirty years had passed since that night. It seemed like every now and then Mama decided to visit her in a dream. Images of the beautiful, troubled woman who birthed her often were like a bittersweet reunion. But sometimes he would show up, too.
      Candace was no longer afraid of him. She’d made sure to track down his whereabouts after Frank’s death just to be sure her childhood bogeyman had not returned. She knew he wasn’t a threat to her anymore.
      Still, she knew sleep would not come tonight. She refused to close her eyes. Like that night long ago, it felt like God had stopped by to shake her around like one of those snow globes. Where would the pieces of her life fall like those flakes? Candace wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
      Candace focused her thoughts on the earlier phone call. Pamela, what do you have to tell me tomorrow?
      I will never leave you or forsake you.
      He made sure to park the car a distance away. Then he walked, being careful to avoid the streetlights, closer to the house. He was in a crime-watch zone. No need to make neighbors suspicious. The night’s events had put him on edge. All he wanted to do was bury the past and move on. But no, she had dug it all back up again, practically accusing him. He would deal with the situation soon enough.
      For now, it was time to visit an old friend.
      With the stealth that he’d used many times to break into homes, he crept forward until he reached the oak tree located parallel to the house. He peered around the trunk and looked up toward the window.
      The house was dark, but he knew. She’s awake. Thinking about me.
      He smiled.

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