Authors: Marian L. Thomas
L. B Publishing
A Novel by:
Marian L. Thomas
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Color Me Jazzmyne
My Father's Colors
Published By L.B. Publishing
Copyright © 2011 by Marian L. Thomas
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011944482
This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray, or represent any particular real persons. The characters, places, incidents, and dialogues are based on the Author’s imagination, or if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Printed in the United States of America
My friends & family
My spoiled but playful Dog
Thank you for your love and support!
To my husband, this journey continues because I have you with me.
To my mother, I thank you for your constant support, encouragement, and endearing words.
To my mother-in-law, I thank you for helping me to see this through.
To my friends, please know how thankful I am to have each and every one of you! Your support, love, and encouragement gave me the inspiration I needed. You have been there for me.
Love to my sister and all those in my family.
To the book clubs that have read my books, invited me into their amazing groups, and showered me with support—thank you!
Thank you to the literary organizations, reviewers, authors, and those in the publishing and marketing industry who provided me with support and assistance.
To Ella Curry of EDC-Creations—you have been a pillar of support. Thank you.
To my readers—you are my motivation. Thank you for allowing the work of my pen to come into your heart.
Marian L. Thomas
"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."
onight 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.
. 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.