Synopsis:
Life can
grab a hold of you like captivating strings of color. It is a lesson
that four women will learn as they each travel down a journey filled
with lies, betrayal, and shocking secrets.
Simone. Is
immensely talented, yet everything she has ever known will be ripped
apart. Her love will be tested. Her heart will call out for a strength
that could only exist in moments like this, and her tears will carry her
through the storm. Will she be able to give her heart to the love of
her life while fighting to open her heart to a mother she has never
known?
Naya. While
facing her greatest loss, will she be able to find the key to strength,
the will to continue on, and the endurance to make it through one of
the darkest moments in her life?
Monà. Within
her heart is a secret so deep that it could shake the very foundations
of two lives. Will she be able to finally look into the eyes of a
daughter she has only known from a distance?
Misty. Two
paths are set before her; one could lead her back to the life of fame
and prominence, which she so desperately wants; and the other could give
her the love she so desperately needs. Will she choose the path that is
best for her future, or for her heart?
Excerpt:
“Dear life, he knew that I wouldn’t have thirty more years of him. But
tonight even as I lay here with tears soaking the floor, I would give
thirty seconds just to feel his touch again.”
Thirty Seconds
Tonight I almost died…Naya thought to herself.
As she walked into her foyer, she dropped her purse, removed her shoes,
and slowly allowed her eyes to follow the curve of the stairway until
they met up with the oil painting which hung in the center.
Wrapped in a thick walnut wood frame, painted in the soft hues of crisp
blues, creams, and specks of red, were herself and Chris.
His
chest stuck proudly out. His smile was as wide as the sunshine. His
blue eyes sparkled with the color of the ocean. Arms wrapped around her
waist.
Chris. She could feel her fingers reaching out to toward him.
She remembered that day. How good it felt to be his wife.
The tears
began to run down her cheeks as the weight of the day caused her legs to
surrender to the pull of the rich mahogany wood floor.
Trembling. Heart pounding.
I’ve got to catch my breath, she whispered to herself.
Ten
seconds later, she began to scream. The walls responded. The chandelier
shook as the realization of what had happened began to sink deep into
the pit of her stomach.
Less than
two hours ago…I was sitting in a worn out chair watching a spider crawl
up the wall. I had listened to the splatter of raindrops beat against
the dirty windows. I had been staring at the moon for hours. Staring at
the walls and then counting the tiny cracks in the floor. There were
three hundred and forty-two. Crying for what seemed like days.
My tired
body was heavy, ragged and empty. The whiff of dirty mop water had
consumed my lungs and I had often found myself dabbing frantically at
the corners of my red and swollen eyes. The lights had been dimed and
the curtains slightly drawn shut but I could still see him.
Every touch we shared had flashed in my mind, every smile and every kiss.
I could hear the machines.
As I sat there, I remember feeling like my heart had begun to mix with the slow and methodic beeping noises they made.
My mind had just about settled and my eyes had finally closed when I heard it.
The noise penetrated the entire room.
Louder and louder it got, like a banging in my head. I began to scream
as I ran to him and wrapped my fingers around his bed rail.
“Chris!” I shouted.
My body was calling out for strength. Darn near begging for it.
For him, I would give everything, anything. I would reach down into bottomless wells just to find a speck of it.
“Find me strength; find the darkness that I am in,” I kept repeating over and over in my mind.
A teardrop fell upon his face.
The doors flew open. Three nurses came charging in.
One tried to pry my fingers from his bedside but I fought with all that I had to hold on.
I was like a mad woman. I kept thinking that if he could just feel my touch, it would give him the strength to fight.
“Please, ma’am,” she said to me. “You’ve got to let go so we can try to save him.”
I had watched her lips moving, but my mind had failed to register the reality of the situation I was in.
“Let go ma’am, we’re losing him!” The tone of her voice had finally broken through and I somehow began to find myself again.
I remember staring at her, and then back at him. I remember thinking to myself, “Did I hear her right?”
Dizziness hit me like the strike of a lightning bolt. My palms had begun to sweat.
“Ma’am,” she said again.
Finally—I blinked.
“Please save my husband,” I whispered.
“We’re trying ma’am, but you’ve got to let go.” The nurse had been forceful but kind.
My fingers let go but my heart was still with him as I was gently moved out of the way.
There was rapid movement, loud voices, and machines being brought in.
I stood against the wall clutching my shirt and watching his motionless body.
When the doors flew open again, the doctor rushed in.
I think she glanced my way for a moment. But now I can’t remember.
What
I do remember is that there was no slow and methodic beeping noise from
the machine penetrating deep into my ear lobes anymore. It had vanished
as if it had somehow been carried off into the wind.
“Come back, come back.” I whispered.
I wanted to hear it again. I needed to hear it again.
His blanket was pulled back; a nurse was cutting open his gown. I watched as the scissors grazed his skin. A chill came over me.
Strong and forcefully tears began to streak down the sides of my face.
The doctor was yelling, or was that me? I think I remember the doctor’s voice.
“On my count of three, go!”
“Clear!”
“He’s still not responding.”
“Get the machine ready again!”
“It’s ready Doctor.”
“Clear!”
Still the machine was silent.
“Come back beeping noise. I won’t complain about you anymore. Please come back to me.”
I stared at the window as if it would open and the sound would return.
There was nothing. Not one single beep!
Fear and anticipation filled the air as more nurses and doctors came rushing in.
The last thirty years of my life was slipping out through the crevices of my fingers.
Meet the Author:
Exciting
Atlanta novelist, Marian L. Thomas, is gearing up for the release of her
third Clean Fiction title, “Strings of Color” on April 2, 2012. Ms.
Thomas’s “Strings of Color” probes the ever-intriguing themes of race,
family strife, love, teen pregnancy, friendship and abuse. And yet, her
tales which seem to pre-sage current tabloid headlines are spelled out
in ways that suit delicate moral tastes. While Ms. Thomas is a dynamic
story-teller with three romantic and dramatic novels to her credit, she
distinguishes herself by refusing to lace her work with profanity and
sexually-explicit themes. Her third installment in the ‘Jazzmyne’
series— “Strings of Color” is quickly filling up book club calendars and
she is a prominent personality on nationwide motivational speaking
circuits. Published in paperback by L.B. Publishing, “Strings of Color”
will be sold at Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, Books-a-Million.com and
will be available for the Amazon Kindle and Barnes and Noble Nook,
electronic books. Avid readers can order this dramatic novel at
bookstores, nationwide or through their local library.
Get to Know Marian:
1.)
How long have you been a writer? Marian: I wrote my first book
manuscript in high school. I also did some writing in the sports and
news fields during college, but didn’t really put “writer” on my
resume. Then, 2009 hit and Color Me Jazzmyne was released. Things
began to change. A thought I once had in high school became a dream.
The dream became a reality and that reality turned me into a writer.
2.) Did
you always know you wanted to write? Marian: The concept of writing was
always in the back of my head — lingering there patiently. The words
“just get it done” were a phrase my old boss use to say to me whenever
we discussed my finishing my book manuscript. It felt great to finally
say, “It’s done.”
3.) What
inspired you to write this specific storyline with Strings of Color?
Marian: Readers, and the fact that I didn’t feel as if the main
character had come full circle with her own inner feelings. Sometimes,
when a relationship ends, people need and want a sense of “closure.” I
suspect book characters are no different.
4.) I’ve
always wanted to write my own Novel. For myself, and others with this
dream, what is some advice you could give? Marian: Publish yourself
first! Build a solid platform. Get your name out there via social
networks, blogs and published articles. Then write your book.
5.) Are the
character names in your books important to you? Without giving too
much away, is there a reason you made the characters’ names so closely
related? Marian: They are extremely important and I love that
question. When I read a character’s name, I like to think that the name
given simply couldn’t be anything else. That it fits the character’s
personality so well, that to change it—would be changing the character.
My character names display the depth of the connection within the
family. When it comes to family, I think we sometimes forget how
connected we really are to each other.
6.) Tell
us about your writing environment. Do you need it to be really quiet,
or do you have to have background noise? Are there any specific foods
or drinks you need available? Marian: No background noise. At least
that’s what I keep reminding my hubby when I’m writing. It’s hard for
me to stay focused, and any little thing tends to throw me off my
writing game. Did I mention that I like popcorn?
7.) When
you’re not writing, what are some other hobbies, or things you like to
do? Marian: I love to draw and paint. One day, I would like to open a
gallery that combines art by me and books by me. Is that too much…me?
Maybe. Then again, maybe not.
Web-links:
Face-Book: http://www.facebook.com/MLT.ColorMeJazzmyne
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MarianLThomas01
Author Site: http://www.marianlthomas.com
Purchase Link: Amazon .com :http://tinyurl.com/purchansestringsofcolor
Book Trailer: Link: http://youtu.be/8ZuWqlo3bac
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