Do What You Gotta Do by Christine Young-Robinson

Purchase Your Copy Today!   Do What You Gotta Do   A compelling story about three sisters who come from a family of wealth-and whose lives are shattered by tragedy, scandal, secrets, and betrayal. The three Houston sisters, Milandra, Noelle, and Kenley, are enjoying a regular day out with their mother, when they come home to find their father lying on the floor-dead! Overcome with shock, their mother falls down the stairs and dies at the feet of her daughters. Despite their grief, the sisters start to make discoveries about the shadowy past of their father-one of South Carolina's wealthiest men. Soon questions arise: Is there really a fourth Houston sister? And what are the true identities of Tessa, their former housekeeper, and Aniyah Sanchez, a mysterious and seductive woman who shows up at the funeral? Worse still, the sisters are devastated to find out that Aniyah has inherited their home, the Houston Estate, and they must move out. Will Milandra, Noelle, and Kenley fight back, or will their fortune stay in the hands of this wild woman from their father's past?   Order Do What You Gotta Do by Christine Young-Robinson  http://www.amazon.com/Christine-Young-Robinson/e/B00J86VYBQ   Excerpt: Do What You Gotta Do   Chapter 1  At last, Aniyah Sanchez would no longer be like a lion locked up in a cage. After spending four years in a South Carolina prison for fraud and kidnapping, she was being released. As she stepped out of her cell, a male prison guard whispered in her ear, "Fruitcake, I'll see you when you get back." Sniffing the fish odor that escaped from his breath, Aniyah turned up her nose. Didn't he know after lunch to eat a peppermint? "Goodbye, Slut," an inmate yelled from another cell to her. "You better get your last feel, Officer Mann," another inmate added. The inmates laughed throughout the ward, including the guard who sported a broken front tooth. He cupped Aniyah's left breast with his right hand. Then he took the club he held in his other hand and placed it between her legs. "I don't think so!" Aniyah snapped her head, brushing him away. "Your time has expired." During her prison term, she had fulfilled the guard's sexual needs in exchange for protection from conflicts that she had endured with other female inmates. Aniyah, almost jogging, hurried ahead until she came to a point where she met up with another guard and other inmates that were being released. Once the official documents were finalized, the guard let Aniyah out of the last door that gave her back her freedom. A chill ran through her body, but it quickly disappeared once the doors were slammed shut behind her. Turning around, she took one last look at the place of residence she had called home. The fourth inmate in line wearing loafers donated by church volunteers, her feet made contact with the concrete ground. Aniyah adjusted her eyes to the sunlight that blinded her. She pulled down on her red spandex dress that had risen up to her hips. It was the same dress she had worn before she became a part of the prison system. Her once slender hips stretched the dress to its limits, but Aniyah strutted as if the garment was brand-new. She faulted her excessive weight gain from her no longer being able to shake her hips in the nightclubs. In prison, she mostly sat on her rear in her cell or in ongoing therapy sessions. Under her armpit, she carried a plastic bag of her belongings and a pair of pumps. Her hands free, she twisted her flowing black hair up in a bun. Other released inmates stopped to say farewell to each other, but Aniyah kept walking, too afraid that she might be called back by one of the guards. Two female inmates ran past her, once they saw familiar faces of loved ones waiting to take them home. Aniyah was not looking for any family to come to her rescue. She would not know her father from any other black man on the streets. He was her mother's one-night stand with no name. Julia, her mother, had died two months ago in Mexico, during the time dyed eggs were given to inmates for holiday treats. Aniyah remembered the day the warden delivered the news to her. Guilt troubled her, since she had run away from home at the age of sixteen, leaving her mother behind to suffer a broken heart.   The only family she had left was her mother's sister, Tessa Sanchez-Chavis. And she was not counting on her self-righteous aunt to come to her rescue. Where am I going? I have no idea. As the heat beamed down on her forehead, sweat dripped down her neck. The spandex dress felt like rubber against her body. "Rosie Aniyah Sanchez." She heard the name echoing in her ears. Her eyes lit up, when she recognized the familiar voice. She locked eyes with her aunt. The solemn look on her face turned into a bright smile. "Aunt Tessa." She studied her aunt, noticing how much she had aged. Streaks of gray highlighted Tessa's jet-black hair. Aniyah, elated, ran into her aunt's arms. "I can't believe you're here." "You're family," her aunt said humbly in her Spanish accent and giving her niece a kiss on the cheek. Together, they strolled to a parked black Mercedes-Benz. Admiring her aunt's ride, before prison life and without hesitation, if a man were driving the Benz, Aniyah would have easily flagged down the ride. She would have unraveled her bun to let her hair fall past her shoulders, propped one hand on a hip and batted her dark brown eyes. Then she would have worked her charm on the man behind the wheel, giving him her middle name instead of using her first name, Rosie. Played him for a sucker. After all the counseling, her former lifestyle of being an escort and manipulating people, especially men, was supposed to be her past, but only time would tell.  Tessa unlocked the car door, hopped in and quickly Aniyah jumped in and took a seat on the butter-colored leather seats. A free ride from her aunt would do. "How did you know I was getting out?" Tessa reached over and gave her niece another loving hug. Then she became emotional. "I've been keeping up with you. And although I can't forget what you did to the Houstons or me, you're still family. I have made peace with it." "How about your lawyer-hubby, Baron?" "He's Mr. Chavis to you from now on. And, he'll never forgive you for what you did to the Houston family, nor him," Tessa admitted with a hint of bitterness. "It's not like it was his money." Reaching down between the seats, Aniyah picked up a bag of boiled peanuts. She cracked open the peanuts, tossing a few in her mouth. While chewing, she continued to speak. "The Houstons are garbage people. Mr. Houston was a male whore. How can you defend him?" "Don't speak of the dead in a bad way," Tessa argued. She recalled working as a young woman in the home of Rupert Houston, owner of Houston Commercial Construction Company. He was a man who loved to have his way with his beautiful female workers. Aniyah sucked her teeth. "Mr. Houston can rot in hell. And so can his spoiled-ass daughters." She slouched back in the seat. In past years, Aniyah had crossed paths with her aunt's prior boss, Rupert. Her greed for money led her to become his mistress. He had promised her a false dream on Lake Murray, South Carolina, to later do away with her.   Aniyah vowed to get revenge on him. To keep her quiet, Rupert included her in his will.  Aniyah took a few more peanuts, folded the bag, and placed it back where she got it. "I still say you were more loyal to his spoiled-ass daughters than you were to me." Staring at her aunt as she drove, Aniyah wanted to grab and shake her. Rupert's unexpected death had left her a happy and wealthy young woman, instead of his three daughters, until Tessa discovered her wrongdoings. Instead of living the life of royalty, Aniyah had landed in prison. Tessa sensed Aniyah was still bitter. "I believe in doing what's right. You had no right to do wrong."     "I didn't want to be a maid like you and mama. I could have sent plenty of money to Mama." Aniyah lowered her voice. "Now she's dead." Tessa was surprised. "I asked the warden to not tell you about Julia." "You should have come and told me yourself." "I didn't want you to be hurt. You couldn't go to Mexico to your mama's funeral." "Did you go?" Aniyah asked sadly. "I went to visit her in her sickbed a month before she went to her heavenly home. She wanted so much for you to come to her bedside. I simply couldn't tell her that I found you. You were in jail for doing bad things. It would have destroyed her. I stayed by her side to the end." Tears flowed down Aniyah's face. "I'm glad you didn't tell her." Tessa softly patted her niece on the hand. "Your mama loved you with all her heart." "I know...I miss her." Aniyah wiped away her tears. "Let's go shopping. You don't need to dress like you're a loose girl." Tessa had witnessed her niece's dress code. The dress had risen up on Aniyah. It resembled a tunic shirt. "I'll go shopping. But I'm not throwing away this dress." "It's too little." Aniyah saw her aunt glancing at her. She tugged at her dress, trying to cover her exposed thighs. "So I gained a few pounds. No big deal." "After shopping, you'll trash it." "This hot dress stays with me." Tessa concluded that it was going to be a long day for her. The sooner she took her niece shopping and got her settled, the sooner she would be rid of her. She sighed. "Aniyah, you have always been difficult." "I think for myself. No one tells me what to do." *** After shopping, Tessa drove Aniyah to a two-story apartment complex in nearby downtown Columbia. Aniyah looked out at the buildings as Tessa parked. Startled, she said, "This is where you and Baron live now. What happened to his house?" "We still have our home. This is where you're going to rest." Aniyah's voice escalated. "Are you for real? Here?" "I'm sorry, but there's no way Baron will let me bring you into our home." "I'm your niece. He can now trust me." "I'm afraid not." Aniyah marveled. She heard the nervousness in her aunt's voice. She was flattered that her aunt thought of her as a threat. In the past, she had seduced her aunt's husband, prior to their marriage, in order to manipulate him to get to his client's fortune. They got out of the vehicle, carrying shopping bags by the handles. Aniyah followed her aunt to the front door. Unlocking it, they entered the one-bedroom apartment. She proceeded to the middle of the living room, while Tessa, clenching her handbag, stayed put near the door. Aniyah felt her aunt's eyes piercing on her, well-informed that she was uncomfortable being alone with her, but her attention was focused on her living arrangements. Next to a small wooden table, she tossed the bags that she held on a futon. Then she headed to see where she would sleep; leaving her aunt on edge to figure out if she would show any signs of psychotic symptoms. Inside the bedroom, Aniyah spotted a four-drawer chest and twin-sized bed that was the bottom half of a bunk bed. Secondhanded crap. "I hope you like it." Tessa dropped the other bags on the linoleum floor. Aniyah mumbled under her breath, "No bigger than a jail cell." Returning back into the living room, Aniyah decided not to complain. She was convinced without her aunt rescuing her, she might be sitting on a bench like a homeless person. Aniyah grinned. "It's good." "There's food in the refrigerator. I've stocked it with a few things, sodas and sandwich meats. In the cabinets, there're cans of corn, black beans and a five-pound bag of rice." "Any steaks, lobster tails or shrimp?" Tessa laughed. "There're frozen foods, and chicken for you to cook. Tonight you can heat a frozen chicken TV dinner." Aniyah went directly into the kitchen adjacent to the living room. She looked in the freezer to see that few products loaded the freezer, including one ice tray. She slammed the door shut. Then she opened the refrigerator section. Removing a can of orange soda, she snapped it opened and took a swallow, quenching her thirst. Tessa entered. As she watched her niece's every move, she noticed the spandex dress Aniyah wore had risen up her thighs. "I say you should change into something more appropriate." Aniyah tussled with the dress. "Stop looking at my clothes. It'll fit fine once I lose a few pounds. I'll get sexy-looking again." Shaking her hips, Aniyah looked around the kitchen, noticing something was missing. "Hold up...no microwave?" "You can use the stove to heat a TV dinner." "Whatever." Aniyah rolled her eyes. "Change your style of dressing. Start off fresh by getting yourself decent work. And, find a good man that you can start a family with," Tessa lectured with an air of sophistication. Aniyah stared at her aunt as though she were a hated prison guard. She had not thought about a job. She twirled around. Cheerfully, she said, "I can use a money man." "It's nothing like making your own money." Aniyah walked past her aunt, stepping back into the living room. Tessa followed behind her while Aniyah searched for any sign of communication technology. "No telephone in here?" Tessa shook her index finger at her. "When you get work, you can buy one." "If you want me to get a job, at least get me a cell phone." "For now, no phone. I'll be coming by to check on you." Aniyah slouched down on the futon. She shoved her fist into the cushion, feeling the steel frame underneath. "I hate being broke." (  Continued...  ) © 2015 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Christine Young-Robinson.  Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author's written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only. Christine Young-Robinson is the author of the novel We Didn't See It Coming and the short story "Miss Amy's Last Ride," which was featured in the anthology Proverbs for the People. A wife, mother, and grandmother, Christine resides in South Carolina. She is the co-chairperson of the Eleuthera Book Club. Purchase Do What You Gotta Do by Christine Young-Robinson Genre:  Fiction. Suspense Released  on August 11, 2015 Thank you, Glenda, Charlie and David Cates

Song of a Dead Star by Zamil Akhtar

This is another review I am conducting for Enchanted Book Promotions so before I share my thoughts on this book I would like to let you know I was sent a copy for free in exchange for the review I am conducting.

This is not the type of book I usually read but David enjoys these types of books. So once I applied to review it I gave it to David to read. But since he has trouble reading we sat down at night and read it together.

Once we finished it I asked David what he thought of it and he says he enjoyed the plots and the characters inside the books. He says it reminds him of some of his favorite books he read as a child.

I liked it as I saw how much David enjoyed it. I also like the characters in the book. Plus the plot keeps you on the edge of your seat. It is a book that you would read again and again. I will look for more of Zamil Akhtar's books to give to David as a gift as I know he will enjoy them.

So if you have not head Song of A Dead Star I hope you take the time to as I am sure you will enjoy it just as much as David did.




Just saw this on Amazon: Song of a Dead Star by Zamil Akhtar for $2.99               http://amzn.to/1TMNhvn via @amazon

Title: Song of a Dead Star

Author: Zamil Akhtar

Genre: Science-Fiction / Fantasy

When Kav sleeps, a firefly whispers in his ear that his wife is not

dead. But to find her he has to kill the three Magi that protect

the land of Eden.

The same Magi destroyed Kav’s hometown four years ago to

crush a rebellion, and he hasn’t seen his wife since.

As Kav plots to kill the Magi, a flying armada bent on conquest

and destruction invades Eden. Only the Magi and their ability to

turn sunshine into magical energy can stop them.

Granted the same power by the firefly, Kav must either kill the Magi to reunite with his wife, or let go of

his longing for the sake of Eden and its people.

Zamil Akhtar is an indie science fantasy author and blogger living a location-free lifestyle. He can be

found in Boston, Dubai, or Manila depending on the time of year. Of Pakistani-heritage, he grew up in

the Middle East and moved to Western Massachusetts when he was thirteen, and his varied upbringing

colors his fiction. He has a BBA in Marketing from the University of Massachusetts and an MA in

International Relations from Johns Hopkins University. His loves are videogames, science-fiction and

fantasy novels, HBO dramas, and Southeast Asia.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Zamil-Akhtar/166211690075437?ref=hl

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/533050

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Song-Dead-Star-Zamil-

Akhtar/dp/151155097X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1431456423&sr=8-

Kav stared at the fireflies whirling around the otherworldly tree. Their light strengthened as they

whirled, more luminous than the sun. Fixated by their motion, Kav began to wonder.

The grass was muddy and soft. The dew was cool, wetting his lips and eyelids. The breeze seemed to be

Then the otherworldly tree groaned and opened its mouth. The garden shook with fury, the tree parted,

It was dark inside the tree, until a firefly fluttered next to him. Kav followed its light as it zigged and

zagged its way through the tree’s innards, toward its swarm, where hundreds of fireflies lit the end of a

hallway. They glowed around a throne made of shadows, upon which someone was sitting. From the

shadows grew snakes, and they slithered across the one on the throne, holding him in place. No, it was a

she. Her pale skin sank beneath the snakes, strangled by their coils. Her blue hair was slowly devoured.

Kav pulled at a snake, but their mouths were inside her flesh. He feared he would hurt her by yanking

More snakes bit her. There was hardly a spot on her that wasn’t bloody. Then a message appeared in

Who sent it? There was no frequency, but he could still respond.

And hundreds of snakes grew out of the throne and bit Layla, until she was entirely eaten. Another

Soon, I will come to you with an offer. Accept it if you wish to save the one person who ever mattered to

Shar didn’t really miss prison. Four years ago, the day the Continentals came for him, he was resigned to

what had to be. Locked in chains, aperture clamped, they tossed him into the brig of a levship. One

His cell there was dirt and puddles of mud, enclosed by rusted iron bars. He wasn’t afraid of the time,

nor the execution date. He sat in his cell, made a pillow of mud, and stared at nothing.

Drip. Drip. A leak in the ceiling swelled the puddle. It expanded its territory in this tiny barred world.

His neighbors, surely, weren’t so positive. Eyes were downcast, expressions limp, gazes lost. Despair

welled through the air like a collective current.

The baby one cell over cried. Its mother, an Almarian girl, “shhd” it to stop. But it wailed and wailed.

“Aaaash ghhh tammm.” She began to sing a Kalamic lullaby. “Aaaash ghhh tamm.” Whatever it meant.

Shar closed his eyes. Sleep knocked on his skull. Out — his soul flew somewhere. Images of that place

whirled onto his vision. He was back in that Keldanese city, but nothing was there. Entirely flat, it was

just a slab of concrete — the whole island. Wiped clean by the Magi.

When Shar woke, he was hungry. Not for food or water. This was a hunger for what sustained his sanity.

Empty, his stomach curled in. He breathed in and out to regain himself, but the pain became worse.

It felt like something inside his brain wanted to come out. Like a monster imprisoned in his skull was

Shar wailed, then screamed. And wailed some more. With blurred vision, he saw a man at the door of

The man had a gut that stuck out of his buckled trousers like a ball. He wore a piss yellow Almarian

constable uniform. The Emblem of Two Rivers shone over his bulging left breast.

Shar grabbed one of the bars and pulled himself onto his knees. “Get me something. I’ll make it worth

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go get a stick to beat your ass with.”

“Listen, I can pay you. I’ve got a man on the outside with the stuff already.” Colonel Aasad had set it up

— the least the man could do. “In Qindsmar. You go get it for me, and he’ll pay you, equal to what you

The guard banged Shar’s hand, sent him thudding back. “Shut the hell up. I’m a man of honest labor.”

“Do it, you know you want to. My guy’s a pharmacist, works in one of the hospitals. Okay?”

 “No, not okay. Shut your mouth and do your time.”

Shar spent the next few hours in pain. He listened to the baby wail and its mother struggle to shut it up.

Later, the guard came back. He bent down, brought his face close to the bars. “Okay, where do I meet

Shar gave him the info, and the guard left.

A UHR of hell ensued. Writhing in pain, Shar listened to that baby go on and on. Shouting at it made it

louder. So he splashed his face in the mud puddle.

Somehow he managed a few drops of sleep.

The next day, the fat guard returned. He threw a tiny vial through the bars. Shar grabbed it, opened the

He wanted it inside him, all of it. He inhaled, until the monster in his skull calmed, the blur in his vision

lessened, and he could grip his world again.

“That’s all you’re getting,” the guard said, “once a week.”

“Once a week? Listen, he must’ve given you more than this!”

The guard walked away. Shar sniffed and sniffed. Control yourself. He needed to savor this morsel for

“You’re worse than my baby here, without your drug.” It was the girl in the next cell. The baby slept in

her arms. The tree oil’s life giving scent staved off the smell from that child. No change of diapers in

“You’re smiling like it’s your birthday. Is that little vial really bringing you so much happiness?”

Shar hadn’t realized. “Why not? It’s all I got now.”

Guards brought food. They pushed a bowl of water through the bars and tossed a piece of bread on the

Shar chugged the water. He chomped the bread, a brittle and harsh crust, as his stomach unknotted.

For the girl and baby, only one piece of bread and one bowl of water were given up by the guards.

“Please, give us a little more, for the child!”

The guard laughed. “The little shit isn’t gonna survive anyway.”

Shar watched as the girl tore off little pieces of crust, until they were tiny grains. One by one, she

dropped those grains in the baby’s mouth. In that way, all the bread finished. With the baby on her lap,

she poured the water down its throat, then kissed it on the cheek. Saved nothing for herself.

The boy grabbed onto an old cedar, and as he pulled onto a branch, shedding leaves whirled around

“You damn fish! We’re gonna bleed you!” His three pursuers were yards away. “And paint this forest

The branches of the tree stretched to the sky. The boy climbed, panting.

“Your kind ain’t worth the shit on our soles!” one of his pursuers shouted. “The higher you climb,

The boy climbed higher. His pursuers appeared below.

“There he is.” One of them pointed at the old cedar. He had a puffy-blister on his lip, courtesy the

boy’s elbow. “Listen Kav, how about you spare us the drama and come down?”

Kav grinned. “You come up. Plenty of room for a party.”

“You wanna play it like that? We’re giving you the choice of walking away, and you’re choosing to

have your ass beat up on some tree?” The one with the puffy lip approached.

So Kav broke off a branch as big as a sword. “Since it’s my party, I’ll dish out the beatings.”

 “Hey, let’s talk this out,” said one of the wiser boys. He removed his glasses and put them in his

pocket. “Listen Kav, here’s our offer. You purposely lose the next match, and we leave you well

alone. Remember who owns this place and who owns your people. No use fighting us, so you best

While the boy ran his mouth, Kav climbed onto an even higher branch. He put his arm behind his

head and sat against the bark like nothing mattered. “I got a question. Is your man Tusir really

gonna feel satisfied winning without a fair fight against us islanders? What does that say about you

Shirmians? Can’t beat an islander fair? Truth be told, winning the tournament don’t matter to me,

but I have principles. The travesty of a fixed fight doesn’t sit right.”

“Travesty? Wanna know what’s a real travesty?” This guy, clearly the idiot of the trio, sounded like a

fresh arrival from some hill village. “How the hell do I get assigned to infantry when a fish from

some shit island gets to be a pilot? I’m gonna die in that infantry group while you’re flying high,

“You die,” Kav said, “and I’ll say a little prayer for your soul while I’m in the sky.”

The boy with the puffy blister on his lip took out something from his sash. The shameless ass. He

held a six- inch blade — standard close-quarters weapon. It goes against the rules to use one in a

mock battle. “Yeah, you know what comes next. I’ll cut the log down easy with this. Then you’re

gonna fall back to earth for your beating.”

The puffy-lipped boy charged the blade with heat. A blue flame immersed the blade.

Then the puffy-lipped boy flung the flame from his blade onto the bark. The tree caught fire.

“Come on down,” he said, “or you gonna burn.”

Kav jumped and landed on his sore feet.

They seized him. The idiot grabbed Kav’s left arm, the wise one his right. The puffy-lipped one

punched him in the jaw. A tooth tore out; blood surged from his gums. Kav wrestled his arms free,

but not before the wise one kneed him in the gut.

The idiot picked up a rock. “Poor fishy. You gonna love this next part!” And he bashed Kav’s

Glenda, Charlie and David Cates

Witches Protection Program.

Witches Protection Program by Michael Phillip Cash

Wes Rockville, a disgraced law enforcement agent, is given one last chance to prove himself and save his career when he's reassigned to a 232 year old secret government organization. The Witches Protection Program. His first assignment: uncover a billion-dollar Cosmetics company’s diabolical plan of using witchcraft for global domination, while protecting its heiress Morgan Pendragon from her aunt’s evil deeds. Reluctantly paired with veteran witch protector, Alastair Verne, Wes must learn to believe in both witches and himself. Filled with adventure, suspense and a rousing good time, Michael Phillip Cash creates a tongue-in-cheek alternate reality where witches cast spells and wreak havoc in modern day New York City.http://www.michaelphillipcash.com/home

Pages: 238

Cost: $10.59 

Read 5 star reviews at @amazon and goodreads

Blog: http://www.michaelphillipcash-officialblog.com/

Check out Michael's other books:

Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island,

The Flip,

The After House,

Brood X: A Firsthand Account of the Great Cicada Invasion,

The Battle for Darracia: Books I, II. III Anthology,

The Hanging Tree.

Coming Soon: Pokergeist

About the Author: Born and raised on Long Island, Michael has always had a fascination with horror writing and found footage films. He wanted to incorporate both with his debut novel, Brood X. Earning a degree in English and an MBA, he has worked various jobs before settling into being a full-time author. He currently resides on Long Island with his wife and children.

 Glenda, Charlie and David Cates