Ever wonder what it feels like to be haunted? I hadn’t…until this past Fall.

Inspired by my visit to the African Burial Ground, I took the self-guided African-American Freedom Trail walking tour. The National Park Service has compiled twenty-one sites commemorating places/events of significance to African American history. From south to north (1 Bowling Green to 67 Lispenard Street) and east to west (Roosevelt Street between Cherry and Oaks Streets to Chambers and West Streets), I visited where slave revolts and draft riots took place, where the original sites of Mother A.M.E Zion and Abyssinian Baptist churches were located, where notable African Americans lived changing history. Black abolitionist Thomas Downing used the cellar of his Oyster House, and David Ruggles used his rooming house as stops on the Underground Railroad.

I’d expected to find plaques like the one on St. Peter’s church in memory of former slave and Haitian philanthropist, Pierre Toussaint or actual edifices like Fraunces’ Tavern, owned by Samuel Fraunces, a West Indian of French and African ancestry. Instead, I arrived time and time again at a corner with no marker or an address that no longer existed. So I tried to imagine the boys and girls who learned at the African Free School or the free blacks who owned farms situated north of the African Burial Ground as far as 34^th Street. I felt their spirits accompany me as I moved from site to site.

I worked as a secretary in a law firm on lower Broadway. I walked these streets to and from work or window-shopped or ate on my lunch breaks, unaware of all this history. How easy it is for one’s story to be lost or erased, not always intentionally or maliciously, but simply because life goes on.

My self-guided tour took me from contemplating the centuries-old histories of Africans and African Americans to wondering about other people and their histories. Where were their plaques, their walking tours? The Gustave Haye Museum of the American Indian is now a Smithsonian museum relocated in 1994 to the Alexander Hamilton U.S. Custom House near Bowling Green. Beautiful as its new location is, I was glad I took my Sunday school class to visit the collection in its original home on 155^th Street and Broadway. I hope one day to visit The Tenement Museum at 97 Orchard Street and learn about the lives of European immigrants who came to New York in hopes of a better life.

I ended my day by taking the 2 train from Wall Street to Court Street in Brooklyn and sitting on the Promenade where a wreath hangs memorializing the September 11 Broken Sky event. Two beams of light displayed against a night sky to symbolize where the Twin Towers once stood and to honor the lives lost that day.

As I sat staring at Manhattan across the East River, a line from the musical Hamilton came to me: Who lives, who dies, who tells your story? That line haunted me then. It haunts me still. What haunts you?

One Breath Away

Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. Never having been courted, cuddled or spooned, Mary now fears any kind of physical intimacy when arousal forces her to relive the asphyxiation of her hanging. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.

Wealthy freeborn-Black Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing a relationship with Mary was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex.

Then just as Eban begins to win Mary’s trust, an enemy from the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…

Excerpt:

“It’s a really hot night.” He turned his hand palm up in a silent plea. “Perhaps you’d find a waltz more cooling.” He eased his fingers into her clenched hands. “May I beg the honor of this dance?”

“Beg?”

“Yes, Miss Hamilton.” He tilted his head, slanting his smile to the right. “Beg.”

“You don’t strike me as the begging type, Mr. Thurman.”

“To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.” He tongue-swiped his full lips as if he’d just tasted something he wanted to taste again. “I know when it’s time to beg.”

She pursed her lips into a frown, fought back the urge to grovel and won. Barely.

The fingers around hers, clean and huge and strangely slender, hadn’t moved, hadn’t trembled. Their stillness aroused her. His stillness aroused her. Her lips quivered. She inhaled deeply against the surrender summoned by that tiny tremor.

Resist the devil and he will flee.

Silently she called upon the truth in this scripture for rescue.

The devil waited. She stared at the hand on hers, helpless against the appeal, the allure of temptation.

She swallowed hard, opened her mouth to say no, but her tongue refused to cooperate. She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “I—I can’t. I don’t know how to waltz.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” His lips bowed in a smile, full, broad, and hypnotizing. “I’m an excellent teacher and I bet you’re a fast learner.” He gave her fingers a squeeze. “Shall we?”

He really wanted to dance with her. She blinked, speechless. A warning voice protested.

Resist.

Her heart countered.

Surrender.

She firmed her lips, heaved a sigh then accepted his invitation. Felicity’s sputtered shock and Widow Hawthorne’s happy cackle accompanied them to the middle of the dance floor.

He placed his fingertips respectfully but firmly above the rise of her buttocks and held her in place against him. A tickle invaded the wool of her skirt where the tip of his middle finger rested at the head of her crack. Pleasure tripped up her spine and trickled between her thighs. But, from the recesses of remembered experience, a voice of caution persisted.

He wants something, Mary. Beware.

*~*~*

Buy links: 

Wild Rose Press: https://bit.ly/2Oog1Ny
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2DmrZWC

About the Author

A native New Yorker, Michal Scott is the pen name of Anna Taylor Sweringen, a retired United Church of Christ and Presbyterian Church USA minister. Using the writings of the love mystics of Begijn for inspiration, Michal Scott writes Christian erotica and Christian erotic romance (i.e. erotica and erotic romance with a faith arc), hoping to build a bridge between the sacred and secular, spirituality and sexuality, erotica and Christ, her readers and a well-written spiritually-stimulating and erotically-arousing story. As an African American, she writes stories to give insight into the African American experience in the US. She has been writing romance seriously since joining Romance Writers of America in 2003 and had her first novel published in 2008. She writes inspirational romance as Anna Taylor and gothic romance as Anna M. Taylor. You can connect with Anna on Twitter @mscottauthor1 and learn more about her and her writing at her various websites: www.michalscott.webs.com, www.annamtaylorwebs.com and  www.annataylor2678.webs.com.

That’s how I feel anyway. Hot, cold, nauseous. I’m going to let my dd pamper me today…

What is that, you ask?

That’s my pie-in-the-sky plan for December. I keep a calendar like this every month to keep track of what I have to accomplish. Always, always, something drops off because I’m always too ambitious. But I’m a dreamer.

If it’s not too tiny on your screen, you’ll see I plan to have three releases this month: Wolf, this Friday; Stepbrothers Stepping Out — With His Client, on the 18th; and maybe, if I finish it in time, the last of the Stepbrothers Stepping Out —With His SEAL Team stories (just in time for the holiday!) on December 24th.

Days 1-3, you’ll note there’s a lot of light blue. That denotes what I’ve already accomplished. The red numbers? Words I wrote. See the bright green? That’s a FREE class I’ll be teaching for authors, called “Write 50 Books a Year!” So, yes, amid all the writing, I’ll be teaching. And I don’t have any editing tasks reflected here, but I expect two books in this month to edit—two long ones! And when they get here, my plan will likely have to be rejiggered again.

Why am I sharing? Because, sometimes, I wonder if folks think I sit eating bon-bons all the time. Not reflected in this schedule are the following: blogging, organizing critique rounds, reading-answering a gazillion emails a month, organizing promo for releases, sending out newsletters, etc.

I work. And it’s more than a full-time job…

It’s that time of year—regardless of what holiday, if any, you celebrate—it’s time for family traditions. I don’t have much in the way of extended family by blood, but I’ve cultivated a strong family by choice because I wanted my kids to have things I didn’t have growing up. Part of building that atmosphere was to develop traditions.

I have two major traditions that we count on this time of year. One is seeing The Nutcrackerwith my two daughters. We usually see the ballet, but every now and then, we mix it up. A couple of times we saw The Nutcrackeron horseback (the performers all ride horses and do tricks). Yes, it’s as weird as it sounds. This year, we’re going to see a hip-hop version. I’m not sure how well that’s going to go over with my youngest, who dances ballet, but she’s willing to check it out.

While seeing The Nutcracker is a tradition for my daughters, the other tradition is all mine. Every year, my best friend and I get together and bake Christmas cookies that we then give away to everyone we know. We started doing this when we were teenagers, and now, more than 30 years later, we’re still going strong. Through college, dating, first jobs, marriages, babies, divorce—you name it, we experienced it and still got together for cookie baking. It’s quite the production. We usually bake about 25 different kinds of cookie. I’m not sure how many batches total, but it’s a lot.

Over the years, our kids have all had a hand in cookie day. Unwrapping Hershey’s Kisses, rolling dough, sprinkling or decorating, and of course, sampling everything. They count on cookie day as part of their traditions, but it’s a special day for me and my best friend. Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

Because of my own fractured family experiences, I’ve always been drawn to big, rambunctious families. That’s why I write what I do. I believe family gives us grounding and connection in life. Found family is as real as born family and I think my books reflect that.

I am currently re-releasing my O’Learys series about a big, Irish-American family in Chicago. Next month, the beginning of my Daring Divorcees series will launch about friends who all met in a divorce support group and are now ready for the next phase in their lives.

For a chance to win a digital copy of More Than This (O’Learys #1), leave a comment sharing your favorite tradition or your favorite cookie.

I will draw a random winner from the comments by the end of the week.

Social media links:
Web site — https://www.shannynschroeder.com
Goodreads — https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6575201.Shannyn_Schroeder
Twitter — https://twitter.com/SSchroeder_
Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/shannyn.schroeder
Book and Main Bites — https://bookandmainbites.com/Shannyn

More Than This

A sexy bartender stirs up a daily lesson plan for an adventurous teacher…

 When she discovers her ex-husband is about to be a father, Quinn Adams is on a mission. Determined to get pregnant without the commitment of a man, Quinn sets out for her own adventure. But everyone seems to think she need to focus on herself first. With a list of challenges compiled but her sister and their friend, Quinn embarks on some life-altering fun.

Her first challenge is to go on five dates within two weeks. After a few disastrous attempts, Quinn’s ready to give up—until sexy bartender Ryan O’Leary offers his assistance. Ryan is the go-to person for everyone in his large family, so it’s natural for him to want to help Quinn. However, as they get to know each other better, friendship with Quinn isn’t enough for him. Now, it’s time for him to show her how serious the Irish can be. Will the bartender quench Quinn’s thirst by mixing up more than she ever imagined?

Buy links:

Kindle https://www.amazon.com/More-Than-This-OLearys-Book-ebook/dp/B07K28MMGH/

Nook https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/more-than-this-shannyn-schroeder/1113633559?ean=2940161775912

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/more-than-this-24

Apple https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/more-than-this/id1440685177

The past few days have been sooooooo stressful! I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote, but I finally got to THE END!

And none too soon! Wolf releases this Friday! I shouldn’t admit this, but I wasn’t sure I’d get there. The main reason? I didn’t know where the story was going. Most times, I have notes jotted, a plan of some sort, but for Wolf I just had no idea!!!!!

Every day I sat in front of my computer and thought, What happens now? And somehow, when I placed my fingers on the keys, the story came. I was helped along quite a bit by Reaper. Do you remember him? The hero of the first book in the Montana Bounty Hunters series? He plays a major role in the story. His gruff, cranky, attitude-filled voice was hovering beside my ear. I heard his voice, and he led me forward every time I thought I was empty, without words.

It’s weird to say it, but it’s true. Sometimes, I feel as though I’m not the author at all. And there you have it. Like a lot of authors, I’m sure I have a mental illness or somehow I open an alternate universe where these “characters” slip through and reveal themselves. All I do is sit, let my fingers hover over the keys, and let them come.

I hope you’re looking forward to Wolf! I can’t wait to see what you think!

It always seems impossible until it’s done.
~ Nelson Mandela

I’m in the middle of the last chapter of the book I have to finish by tomorrow! So until then—my head’s down and my fingers are poised…over the keys!

Not what you thought this blog would be about reading that subject line, right? Tsk-tsk!

Later! DD

Here I am again. Crunching up against a deadline. I have a story to wrap up by Sunday. No wiggle room at all.

So, today’s post is shoooorrrrrrt!

I have my head down but have no idea where my story’s going. I need a cup of coffee to clear the sludge from my brain. So, I’m heading to the pot now!

Any encouraging words for me, y’all?

(Told ya this would be short! 🙂 )