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  GUMBO

  Written by Tiana Laveen

  Edited by Natalie Owens

  Cover by Travis Pennington

  BLURB

  Tony Romano’s life was torn apart at age fifteen when his father died. His mother moved him and his brother from New Jersey to Belle Glade, Florida, a place rife with crime and bleakness. With his widowed mother working two jobs to support them, she was rarely home and the streets were soon raising Tony.

  Cassidy Macklin was raised by her grandmother for most of her life. Smart, creative, and kind-hearted, she does her utmost to prevent her circumstances from bringing her down. Reading helps her escape to a different life and place, even if only in her imagination. And Grandmama’s soulful food is the balm that heals her heart and keeps her world afloat.

  Tony and Cassidy form a connection, which deepens as the days pass. But soon, darkness rears its head and things fall apart, bringing havoc and turmoil. Years later, the two cross paths again and both must come to terms with the monsters of their past. Their discoveries trigger emotions they’ve never faced before.

  Secrets, pain, and old habits—some of those die hard. Will Tony and Cassidy be able to finally have the life together that they so deserve, or will they be forced to part again, this time forever? Read ‘Gumbo’ to find out!

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2019 by Tiana Laveen

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. PIRACY IS AGAINST THE LAW.

  IN OTHER WORDS: If you do any of the above, the karma bus is waiting for you. If you steal this author’s work and illegally loan and/or share it, request illegal/free copies online and/or in printed version, you are no better than a burglar that breaks into someone’s house while you think they are away. You are a criminal. A thief. A cheat. You don’t work for free, so why should authors?!

  WE WORK HARD. SHOW SOME APPRECIATION.

  DEDICATION

  This amazing rendering of Ermias Joseph Asghedom, known professionally as Nipsey Hussle, was created by, Darrell Seignoret. He goes by, 868portraits on Instagram. I am pleased to share his work with my readers, for it fits perfectly with the dedication of this novel.

  “Gumbo” is dedicated to Ermias Asghedom aka Nipsey Hussle, a rapper, entrepreneur and community activist who was recently gunned down in a senseless act of violence in Los Angeles, California. Nipsey’s vibe, lyrics in his music, swag, and humanitarian ways positively colored and influenced not only an entire community, but the whole country. Some people say they didn’t know who he was before this incident, even though he’d been nominated for a Grammy. Well, I believe one reason for that is because he came across as quite humble. He wasn’t overly flashy, loud or flamboyant. In a short while however, his star power would have superseded that, and I honestly believe everyone would have known who this man was had his life not been taken far too soon. His music catalogue was not really my attraction – it was the lyrics in his later songs that grabbed me and the way he articulated himself, his thought process, his business acumen, his love for others and the way he changed his life for the better. He was a mentor to so many. Back to his words though… You know as a writer myself, I am a lover of words. They were incredible. He was writing things that for me, pulled at my soul strings. Yes, he was a Crip. He was no longer active in that lifestyle, however, and was in fact giving back to his community tenfold.

  Remember, a Saint was once a Sinner who fell down…

  I am dedicating this book to his memory, for many reasons.

  This story takes place in an impoverished part of the country, a small municipality in Florida that is rampant with violence and destitution, but many members of the community still hold on to hope. In their own way, these characters have travelled a similar path to that of the real life Nipsey Hussle; they came from so little, made choices that were a matter of survival, born from pressure and a feeling of being lesser than, only to pray for a second chance at life and wait to see if they could receive it. All of this, so that the second time around, they could improve not only their lives, but the lives of those around them.

  Nipsey Hussle, your living wasn’t in vain.

  I’ve got the blueprint. I’m running the marathon. I’m passing it on…

  Before we begin this tale, I have an announcement.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  About this Book

  Copyright

  Dedication

  A Bit of Incorrect Country Grammar

  Love Letter to the Reader

  Prologue

  PART 1: Gathering the Ingredients

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  PART 2: Following the Recipe

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Music Directory

  About the Author

  A BIT OF INCORRECT COUNTRY GRAMMAR

  ALERT: I said this in my previous book, “Le Roi Du Sang”, and I am now also saying it here. I know that the correct swear term is, ‘Goddamn.’ I have always hated writing that word, although I have done so many times in the past, in order to keep things grammatically correct. However, going forward, please allow me to spell this wrong, for my own comfort. I am now using, ‘Gotdamn.’ I will repeat this statement in future books for the benefit of new readers, so no one reads it and thinks, ‘Well, that isn’t right!’ Reader, I know … but I am using creative license. We all have our triggers and pet peeves. I am not religious, but I am a spiritual being with important beliefs and this word has always rubbed me the wrong way. So it doesn’t sit well with me to keep writing it.

  Thank you for your understanding!

  Tiana Laveen

  NOTE: This is a two part book all in one volume. No additional purchases are needed.

  Both parts are included in this one book.

  LOVE LETTER TO THE READER

  Dear Kings and Queens of the reading world, thank you for having a seat at my table…

  I had taken a few weeks off … not fully by choice. You see, I have written practically every day for years, even while on vacations. I am not talking about the stay-cations or sleeping in. I am talking about the airline ticket
s, packed luggage and such vacations. It’s been one book after another, after another.

  My latest release was “Le Roi Du Sang.” That book was such a heavy, intense ride. Whew! Although it was a paranormal tale infused with a touch of realism, at the end of the day, it turned out as a violent vampire romance tale chock full of fierceness and pandemonium. I enjoyed writing that book and am very pleased with the final outcome. This book, “Gumbo,” is a step back into ‘reality’, so to speak, but what began as a soft, fuzzy idea turned into a profound, deep tale about shattered childhoods, first loves, troubled souls, and reconnecting to what and who we love most in adulthood. As usual, the initial idea I have for a story changes, morphs and matures as I allow the characters to take control and tell their story to me. They went deeper than I had outlined, thought out, drafted and initially believed. These characters need to live inside of me for a minute before they hit the keyboard running.

  I had taken a couple weeks off from writing after “Le Roi Du Sang.” I had the basics already finished with Gumbo – a skeletal outline, the bare bones of what I envisioned for the tale, so the preliminary work was already complete. So, the plan was, no more back-to-back writing for at least 10-14 days. It was time to step back and address my life. My kitchen pantry looked like a tornado had hit it. The children’s laundry was piled up. The guest bathroom had a collection of bins filled with girly things—hair bows, makeup etc.—that needed purged or sorted and organized, and the closet containing all the cleaning products and gift bags, candles, tools and paper wrap was in complete disarray. I walked into my master suite bedroom closet and screamed… Oh yes, it was time to roll up my sleeves and get myself organized. I had been writing without a break all last year and the state of my home showed it.

  I had come off writing the 12-book romance series (The Zodiac Series), when I was releasing a full-length novel every 25-30 days featuring a hero who embodied the key characteristics of that month’s sign, falling in love with a heroine of his choosing. Never mind the two boxsets I was also involved in, as well as other writing engagements. 2018 was an amazing year, please do not get me wrong, but I worked so hard that I have no idea how I even got through it all. Taking on the task of writing a novel per month was an undertaking, but that taught me a lot about myself, as well as helped me hone my craft even more.

  But look at my house?! Look at my other responsibilities and my life?! I had sacrificed a LOT to do that project. I had a much smaller social life; uh, let me rephrase… it was nonexistent. I was in seclusion, working for days, weeks, months on end. I am not trying to garner sympathy because I wouldn’t change a thing. Then, as soon as I got my house in order, I got hit with a nasty allergy infection and had to crash in bed with a sore throat and horrible cough that I couldn’t shake. I tried to rise up, but was quickly slammed back down. This just goes to show that sometimes, when you don’t do what is best for you, you are made to do what is best for you, one way or another.

  While ill though, some amazing ideas filled the halls of my mind, so I still came out on the winning end as far as I am concerned.

  But there were still pressing matters to address…

  Chores had piled up around the house, the family wanted to spend some time with me, and honestly, after years of saying I was going to take a REAL vacation from writing and regroup, it just never happened. I always had the best of intentions, but would find myself back at my desk, hammering out chapters in my next project, within 48 hours of a book release. I would be out of town and writing, or jotting down notes, or sending myself a text message about an idea or something I needed to add to such and such scene. I can’t turn that part of me off, unfortunately. The same thing happened when I said after writing “Le Roi Du Sang” that I would take at least 2 weeks off… but Maury Povich determined THAT was a lie.

  I would then catch myself hauling ass to my desk, turning on the laptop, and typing away, only to feel a sense of disappointment a few minutes later. Then I’d have to tell myself: ‘No. Seriously, Tiana, you have to refresh your mind. You just finished writing a very intense story and let’s face it, you need a breather.’

  At that point, I would begrudgingly close the laptop and head back to my list of obligations and laugh out loud moments: household chores, do my daughter’s hair, go over my son’s homework, chat with my mother and listen to her latest update about the folks feeding the noisome ducks causing all sorts of mayhem in the neighborhood, pick up around the house for the 3rd time, and hunt for the missing socks that had evaded capture in the last few weeks, get lost in laundry land, joke with my father who I’d been avoiding due to his snarky sense of humor at my expense, pick up my husband’s favorite snacks from the store (then hear him tell me how he had no clue they were in the pantry after he’d wolfed down something he really didn’t want and felt somehow betrayed about not being informed regarding the new bag of his favorite popcorn in the cupboard).

  That’s a long list! But there’s more…

  I would then cook dinner, something fragrant to fill me with guilt and a desire to exercise (add an extra 15 minutes for that). I used avocado oil for Pete’s sake, but it was still fried to a golden crisp. I’d pour my third cup of tea, pop some vitamins, and veg out on YouTube videos, the ones showcasing pranks, true crime, and road rage dashboard camera videos being my favorite. In the end, I’d fall asleep while my ‘library scented’ candle burned, only to be awakened by my daughter yelling, ‘Mommy! Wake up! Watch this magic trick I can do!”

  Why can’t she make this unfolded laundry disappear? That’s the kind of magic I want to see. Then I’d be impressed!

  (Of course, I’d ignore that her finger is jammed into the cup via a crudely cut hole she made with her dull craft scissors, and feign being awestruck and wowed! Amazed at her enchanted skills!)

  So that’s what I did.

  Why?

  This was a vacation, damn it! It was time to do the things I normally raced through to get back to writing, or didn’t have time to do at all. I love writing, so a vacation in the traditional sense of the word seemed silly to me for some reason. Look, some people are addicted to alcohol. Some are addicted to working out. I am addicted to writing – so, there was of course that issue, too.

  I push and push and push myself, but I don’t want to wake up one day and see my small children grown, my husband looking lonely and haggard, and regret all the missed laughs, trips, and life passing me by. Life is to be lived. Writing is a big part of my life, but I also become a better writer the MORE life that I have experienced. I can pull from those occurrences and journeys and pour them into my work. I can use them as fuel, ammo, gumption and launching pads towards the next book, feeling refreshed and raring to go! My life doesn’t have to be exciting every day, but it should be appreciated at the very least, and this book, “Gumbo,” truly embodies that ideology.

  It’s about putting out the energy that we wish to receive back.

  It’s about loving someone at times more than we love ourselves, even when we know that’s wrong, but it simply can’t be helped.

  It’s about self-discovery and realizations, some of which are far from pleasant but must be accepted at face value.

  It’s about being true to one’s nature, both the light within and the dark shadows that dot our hearts.

  It’s about pure love and painful loss and everything in between.

  It’s about ME. It’s about YOU. It’s about each and every one of us. We’re all here experiencing this thing called life. We’re all connected, whether we like it or not. It’s a bounty of broken promises, unrealistic expectations, and dashed hopes. It’s granted wishes, answered prayers, and a favor granted when least expected.

  I hope you came hungry.

  I am now passing the platters of food around the table, and I want you to get your fair share.

  Take whatever you wish, pile your plate up high until your heart and soul are content. There is no such thing as giving and receiving too much love. There are no diets
here, just gifts of gratitude and overflowing grace.

  Thank you for allowing me to serve you.

  Come on, friend. Let’s eat…

  PROLOGUE

  Tony outstretched his hands and dragged them over the small table. The guard stood behind him. Seconds had turned to minutes, the silence broken up by sniffing and the silent crash of broken promises hitting the floor of their hearts.

  On the other side of the glass sat Cassidy, her red eyes swollen, the light gone from them… a darkness within the ring of illumination, a broken spirit that didn’t have the motivation to rise up again.

  This was what he’d done to her; this was what life had delivered. Justice was swift, but not for either of them. It lingered, like a maniac slowly torturing its victim.

  “Please don’t say that, Tony.” She blew her nose into the tissue.

  “But it’s the truth, baby. Look, I’ve talked to two different lawyers. It’s clear. There is no way out of this.”

  “Then get a third attorney! And a fourth!”

  He shook his head. “The law is clear. The least amount of time I am going to get is ten years. I can’t have you waiting around for me for ten fuckin’ years.”

  “I can! I will! I don’t want to go to California without you! I love you!”

  “Cass, I love you too, but I need you to face the reality head on, okay? This isn’t a game! I can’t talk myself out of this! I killed a man, point blank range, with intent. That’s not including the breaking and entering and other charges… The lawyer tried to argue temporary insanity, but I knew damn well what I was there to do so I made him nix that.”

  She dropped her head. “Now look, I have some important information for you, so I need you to hear me out. I was going to surprise you, but I already got us an apartment in California. Saw the advertisement in a paper at the library and secured it.” She slowly looked up at him again. “I did this a couple of months ago. I paid the first six months… I want you to take your plane ticket that I already bought, give the other ticket to Danica so she can help you get moved in and—”