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The Gospel Singers: Grace Christian, #1

The Gospel Singers: Grace Christian, #1

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The Gospel Singers: Grace Christian, #1

114 pagine
1 ora
Jul 1, 2019


International gospel superstar, Azuri, has fallen madly in love with choir director/playboy Jawaan, so much so, that she's blind to his actions, even after her best friend Greg exposes him. But after a litany of signs, she comes to reality; however, it may be a little too late. Jawaan, as Azuri is completely unaware, is beyond the bounds of regular cheating. When the lies and deceit hit the fan at Grace Christian, the community, as they know it, will never be the same. It's going to take more than prayers and faith to save the souls of its spiritual leaders.

Jul 1, 2019

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The Gospel Singers - J.C. Presley


Chapter 1


Jawaan is gonna love this meal. Tom Yum Goong, a spicy shrimp soup with a spring salad and kobe, and steak was on the menu for dinner. Jawaan loved my cooking. Being on tour for half the year, I’d picked up a few fine culinary dishes from across the globe with my signature dish being authentic Thai food.

Being a star was in my DNA. My name, Azuri, derived from a precious stone found only in Africa. I knew early on in life as a kid growing up in Memorial Village, an affluent neighborhood in Houston Texas, that I would be someone very special. The world just needed to meet me. Gifted with a natural stage presence and a voice that could calm a hurricane, I always knew my worth and would effortlessly grab attention when I entered a room. Blessed beyond measure, I signed a lucrative recording contract with one of the most successful gospel companies in the country at the tender age of 19. Now, at 25, I topped the charts as one of the most successful solo gospel artists ever, plus I wrote many other hit songs for lots of other big names in the industry. My life was perfect.

Money didn't motivate me. Inspiring people with my music is what got my juices flowing. It helped a lot that both my parents came from money though. Certain doors only opened for certain people, and cash was the key. My dad's people got filthy rich dealing in blood diamonds back in his home country of Botswana, Africa's third leading producer of the precious stones. His grandfather had owned 70 percent of the diamond mines throughout the entire country in the 1900’s. Off the record, my great grandfather ran Botswana, giving political contributions to those he saw fit to be in office. While the country starved, my family thrived. My mother's side of the family was also from Botswana. They ran the largest bank in the country. Rumors had it that my mother's father had ties to the Russian mafia and even helped fund the civil war in Rwanda. I was extremely proud of the fact that I knew my lineage. A lot of people I knew had no knowledge of where their bloodline started. I loved my African heritage. It was something I could look up to as a kid in my all-white Houston neighborhood.

Struggling was something I knew nothing of. If I desired anything, I got it, despite what it might cost. Money grew on trees in my dad's 10 thousand square foot greenhouse is what I thought as a kid.

My parents came to the states a few years before my birth. Settling down in Houston, they soon joined Grace Christian Baptist Church. My father became the church's treasurer, and my mother was a long-time usher and secretary. Dad even donated most of the money to get our new church building erected in Sugarland.

Since before I could remember, my folks wanted me to date a nice, wholesome church boy. I’d had a brief wild streak during my high school days but quickly outgrew it. I knew my parents just wanted the best for me. Four years ago, I and Jawaan, the church choir director, started dating, and my parents couldn't be happier. They loved him as much as I did. My father even referred to him as son. He treated Jawaan like the child he never had, often taking him on fishing trips and to football games.

Dinner done, I decided to listen to some music and do some cleaning.

I was straightening up the living room when the front door opened. Hey love! How was your day? I asked. Jawaan had just arrived over to my place from choir rehearsal. The expression on his face made it seem as if he was aggravated about something.

He sighed. Long.... Deacon Parks has a huge problem with not getting the lead solo for Sunday service, Sister Nelson has the flu, and my head is killing me.

Awww, you want me to make you feel better?

He took a seat on the couch. I brought him a plate.

I just need a minute to get my thoughts together.

Lately, Jawaan had been a bit distant. Almost standoff-ish. We hardly spent much time together, and our sex life was null and void. But I loved this man. When we’d first met in church a few years back, he would shower me with compliments. He often made me feel like the most cherished person on the planet by the way he looked at me. I loved this man with my entire soul. He took my virginity at 20, and I had no plans of sleeping with anyone else. I didn't want to get it in my head that there could be another woman and be wrong, but the way things were looking said otherwise.

Okay, sweetie. Well, I hope you feel better. Enjoy.

Jawaan devoured the meal, and later that evening, we made love for the first time in weeks.


Earlier That Evening

We were just about done with our fifteen minute restroom break at choir practice. Sister Stacy, could I please see you after rehearsal? I asked.

Sister Stacy was a tall shapely woman. She and her family were long-standing members of the congregation. Her walk demanded attention. When she entered choir rehearsal late, her ass swayed in that floral print sundress she wore, which had me completely sidetracked with a mind filled with lustful thoughts. I knew she did it on purpose. For the past few weeks, we were seeing a lot of each other. It’d started as most of my flings usually do, a suggestive stare with a couple bold words, and the rest is history.

Sure, she replied and casually crossed her legs. I caught notice that she wasn't wearing any underwear. She winked.

Since middle school, I’d had a way with the ladies. My charismatic approach had females eating out the palm of my hands. Even my high school economics teacher had a thing for me. The fling lasted almost my entire junior year, until a staff member spotted us leaving a hotel room one night. It ended her ten year career as an educator and propelled me into legendary playboy status.

Being the youngest child of my single mother’s five kids, I possessed a piece of each of my older siblings.

From my eldest brother, Derrick, I’d obtained my leadership skills. People naturally gravitated towards us and loved being in our company. Derrick was captain of his high school football squad and prom king. He probably would have made a great politician, however, he died in a fatal car accident his sophomore year of college.

My sister Karen taught me patience. We were both blessed with the ability to deal with all kinds of people, adapting to situations like a chameleon. She’d become a counselor for our old high school.

Henry, the middle child, was a natural-born hustler. Straight

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