Path to Promise 
by Sherryle Kiser Jackson


Sequel to Land of Promiscuity

There’s a difference between running scared and running free.  Rebecca Lucas is on the run again, running from rumors, running from reality, and most of all, running from Will, her best friend and soul mate. This time Rebecca is ready to reclaim the life she left behind in Salisbury before the burial of her mother and the handling of her mother’s estate. Time away, however, has done little to alleviate her biggest problem—her coworker Kenny Burke and the indecent proposal he pitched to her before leaving town. She’s back, and he uses every resource at his disposal to get her to go along with his plan.

Will Donovan, the man left in the trail of Rebecca’s taillights and exhaust fumes, has a few problems of his own. His father’s secrets have left the senior Pastor Donovan ousted from his longtime position as leader of Grace Apostle Methodist Church, and Will with one foot in the door. As a mandate of the church board, Will must apply and compete for his dad’s job. His competition is the very charismatic and well-connected Danny Glass Jr., heir of a televangelist empire. Will seems to be the only one questioning why Danny is on his turf when he has his own father to succeed. He struggles with the integrity of his decisions in an effort to carve out his own identity in ministry. 

For Will and Rebecca, the
Path to Promise is far from a utopian street paved with gold. Will their paths, marred with their own obstacles, cross and lead them to the promises of God?

Excerpt from Path to Promise

The next day Rebecca clung to her sixteen-ounce Colombian roast as life support to get her through the day. She practically had to reintroduce herself to the firm’s fifth-floor administrative assistant, Celeste, after she called out to the slightly older woman to hold the elevator on the ground floor. No greeting and no apology came from her colleague when they came face-to-face after Rebecca sacrificed her umbrella handle to prompt the door to open again.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said sarcastically before the elevator car became crowded with associates, who were just as rude, pushing them farther back with their wet umbrellas, their lawyer-speak, and their arrogance.

Their building had ten floors; the top five were occupied by the largest law firm on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. When the elevator reached the fifth floor, an older man in an all-weather coat pushed the close button so quickly that Rebecca and Celeste couldn’t move forward and get off the elevator in time. The man acting as the lift operator then spoke loudly into his cell phone, letting the person on the other end of the line know his estimated time of arrival in the suite of offices on a higher floor. Having missed their floor, an indication of how insignificant they were on the firm’s totem pole, Rebecca and Celeste shared a perturbed look.

They rode to the top, stopping on practically every other floor, and then rode back down to the very bottom before they could move to the front and take control of the roving beast that was their elevator.

“I see nothing has changed around here,” Rebecca said once she was off the elevator and heading with her traveling companion to the administrative suite of cubicles and waiting rooms.

“Not a thing. I am glad one of us knows somebody that has enough pull to get a substantial vacation before vacation week.” Celeste smirked.

Apparently, Celeste hadn’t gotten the notice as to why she had been out, Rebecca thought. A “How are you doing?” would have been in order. Rebecca decided her business wasn’t worth telling. They weren’t friends. They had the same strained relationship Rebecca seemed to have with all women, one based on assumptions, envy, and petty arguments. She was thought to be worthless throughout high school because she didn’t hang in a clique of girls that had boyfriends, gossiped, or had a fashion obsession. Then she was considered a wanton threat because the boyfriends of those same girls got wind of the fact that she had contoured her body and wasn’t afraid to use it.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Celeste said, walking ahead to her command post, apparently in a hurry to grab something. Celeste grabbed a pile of papers and file folders with one arm. She turned at the precise time and practically shoved the stack into Rebecca’s midsection. “Now you can pull your own weight.”

Rebecca stepped back, not so much from the impact, but from the splash of her coffee. She fought to maintain her grip on the coffee cup. They were in a staring match, and it would continue, as far as Rebecca was concerned, until Celeste realized her hands were occupied. Still holding the pile of papers and folders, Celeste sighed heavily and begrudgingly followed Rebecca, whose gait was purposely slow. Celeste’s shoes squeaked due to the slickness of the floor from the spilled coffee and the cheap polyurethane material her shoes were made from. Before even attempting to retrieve what Celeste had for her, Rebecca sat her coffee down and draped her fur-trimmed sweater on the hook to the right of her desk once she was inside her cubicle. They exchanged smug looks and the load of papers before Celeste turned to leave.

What was her problem? Rebecca thought. No amount of coercion or sweet talk could make Celeste fill in for a paralegal. On numerous occasions, she had let attorneys and their lackeys alike know she was an administrative assistant. She worked with Windows software, not Workshare, and she absolutely wasn’t running back and forth across the street to the courthouse. Bethany or any of the other three paralegals in the building might be called upon to assist in her stead, but definitely not Celeste.

Rebecca’s desk was neat, and the pile of depositions and files that she now held would give her a time line of what had gone on in her absence. She walked to the break room before taking on the task of going through the pile and devising a to-do list from it. She needed to refresh her cup of coffee and, in doing so, checked off her first assignment. It was her duty to start a pot of generic roast for clients and guests who would check in on their floor. A sad cutout of a Christmas tree, tacked up on the huge memo board and cluttered with generic cards from random staffers, was the only reminder of the holiday that had just past. Rebecca concentrated on setting the coffee machine to brew so she could forget how she had spent Christmas day sulking and sorting through mail of her own.

She backtracked now to her desk to grab her calendar to confer with Celeste. Like a chess player did a chessboard, she studied her calendar and kept it up to date at all times. She had to know where all the major players were. Jacobs, God help him, was no doubt in court. That left Minor and Burke, whom she was uncertain about.
Burke. The thought of him gave her shivers. She used to think the way he looked at her was sexy, but now it brought a curl to her lip. Would he be in today or out wooing some client? Maybe he had started his vacation. Would he be looking for her to help him entertain his potential client list, like he had implied before she left? Hopefully, he had found someone else to harass.

Maybe she could get a reprieve today. Yeah, who came in between Christmas and New Year’s, anyway? she told herself. Then she thought of all the attorneys in the elevator this morning. She bent back the corner on her agenda book, just thinking about it. It was crazy to keep dwelling on Burke’s proposition to befriend his client, Walter Calhoun that had happened just one time and would more than likely not happen again. Her plan was to attack the pile on her desk while attacking her anxiety. She did a one-eighty back to her desk, but like a revolving door, she spun around again with a favor in mind to ask Cruella De Vil at the front desk.

Rebecca stopped at Celeste’s desk and inhaled deeply as she waited to be acknowledged. “Celeste, since it’s my first day back, I’m really, really, really trying to play low key today. It’s like I’m not here. I wasn’t even going to report until Monday, anyway. Until I can weed my way through this pile and get things in order, I’m no good to anyone, anyway. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Burke that I’m back here. I’m not saying to lie, but just don’t make an announcement.”

“Oh, no way, sista. Then he’ll be loading me up with things to do, or he’ll have me searching for Bethany, who, between the two of you, hasn’t worked a weekend’s worth of time this month.” She leaned in, and although Rebecca found that odd, she leaned in as well to catch the apparent scoop Celeste was dishing. “You know, she’s nearly four months pregnant.”

Rebecca blinked several times as she digested the news, and wondered for a moment how much of her own business Celeste shared in this same manner with friends and foes alike. “Please, Celeste. I don’t ask you for much.”

“So you’re hiding from Burke?” Celeste gave her top molars a satisfied suck.

“Not hiding. I’m just a little disoriented. See,” she said, holding out her agenda book. “I don’t know where anyone is in any of their cases. Jacobs . . .”

“Is due in court at nine,” Celeste said, finishing Rebecca’s sentence for her.

Rebecca shrugged and shook her head at the same time. “They do that to him on purpose.”

“He does it to himself. He’s served more court time than a repeat offender, but he’s on a winning streak now. If he was smart, he’d hook up with seven and eight, like Minor is doing, working on a corporate bid. It should be interesting to see who between Burke and Minor wins an office upstairs first,” Celeste said, referring to the status of senior attorneys, who were housed on the seventh and eighth floors.

Rebecca had underestimated Celeste’s knowledge of office politics. Rebecca didn’t want to play them, but it was good to know the house rules.

“He’ll be in here, all right, without me saying a word,” Celeste said.

Rebecca gave her a quizzical look. “Who?”

“Burke. That’s who you’re worried about, aren’t you?” Celeste snapped.

Rebecca leaned in as Celeste had done to get her to pipe down. “What makes you so certain?”

This time Celeste backed away, as if Rebecca had some sort of disease. “One thing Mr. Kenny Burke can do well is sniff out fresh meat and money. In your case, meat he hasn’t fully picked over yet.”

Rebecca watched Celeste suck her teeth again, as if to dislodge remnants from her breakfast, before turning on her swivel chair. Rebecca was thoroughly disgusted. What did that mean? And what did she know?

( Continues... ) 

Copyright © 2013 by Sherryle Kiser Jackson. All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Sherryle Kiser Jackson. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the publisher's written permission. Copyright infringement is a serious offense. Share a link to this page or the author's website if you really like this promotional excerpt.

About the Author
Multipublished author, wife, mother and teacher, Sherryle Kiser Jackson strives to be a fresh voice in Christian Fiction. Born in Prince Georges County, Maryland, Sherryle went on to get a degree in Elementary Education from from Salisbury State University. Her triumphant debut novel, Soon and Vey Soon (2007) was followed up by her sophomore release, The Manual (2009), Soon After (2010), Taylor- Made (2011) and Land of Promiscuity (2012) for Urban Christian Books. She lives in Marylad with her husband and children.

Sherryle Kiser Jackson
Thrive in God's grace and abound in His love


Land of Promiscuity
by Sherryle Kiser Jackson

The Land of Promiscuity, a story about indiscretions,
broken promises and a crazy twist of unrequited love.


Her biggest sin was her squandered promise.  Death of her mother and town martyr, Madame Ava Lucas brings Rebecca Lucas back to a land she would rather forget where she reunites with the only one man who has dared to love her as a true friend. Fifteen years later, that man, William Donovan is now the assistant Pastor of Grace Apostle Methodist Church adjacent to her family’s home estate. He’s devoted to helping Rebecca heal old wounds and rediscover her passion when she returns home. What they do not expect is in settling her mother’s estate that they would unearth a generational curse that threatens to dismantle their carefully built love affair.

The Land of Promiscuity deals with generational curses and forgiveness.  It's a crazy twist of unrequited love that will leave you wondering whether there are circumstances that make it impossible for even love to survive.

Land of Promiscuity
Available in audio book too!

Purchase Land of Promiscuity  by  Sherryle Kiser Jackson
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Meet Sherryle Kiser Jackson
Multi-published author, dynamic speaker, teacher, wife and mother, Sherryle Kiser Jackson hails from Prince Georges County Maryland. Trained at Salisbury State University, she’s a teacher by profession, but a writer by pure passion. Dubbed as a relationship weaver that is like the Terri Mc Millian of Christian Fiction, her writing style reflects an honest commentary on her life with Christ. She strives to be a fresh voice in Christian Fiction.

Her triumphant debut novel, Soon and Very Soon (2007) was followed up by her sophomore release, The Manual (2009). Her highly anticipated follow up to SAVS titled, Soon After(2010) and Taylor Made (2011) rounds out her bookshelf. Sherryle has plans and storylines to keep her busy for the next two decades. Her fifth novel, The Land of Promiscuity releases in 2012, and she’s hosting Write Away weekend, an intensive writer’s residency the first weekend in October.



Social Promiscuity 
by Sherryle Kiser Jackson

Whose business is it anyway?

“There are certain things you don’t say or do in mixed company.”  When I said that to a group of middle schoolers, they laughed.  Some out of ignorance to what the phrase means.  Still others laughed because surely, I was the uneducated one and hadn’t been schooled in the rule of the day that everything goes.  I got that apparently dated adage from my mother.  Albeit, she was from a different generation, but she knew there was a distinct difference between what is public and what should be kept private.

We’re a socially promiscuous society.  We’re voyeurs of the highest order.   We demand other people’s embarrassing, lewd and unfortunate circumstances served up with our morning corn flakes then think we’re entitled to expound upon it.  Let’s take social media for instance.  We are like the kid in the public domain sandbox baring his/her private parts and daring someone to show theirs in return.  Think about it.  How many times have you seen a picture or post on Facebook or Twitter that made you blush?  Who here is willing to admit you speak too candidly about the details of your life or that of a celebrity.  And isn’t it the most inappropriate, shocking or vulgar reality-based snippet that you feel compelled to share or have seen reposted multiple times.

I was even baited into clicking on a video that would prove the rumors about the sexual orientation of a specific celebrity true once and for all.  Although I had on many different occasions exclaimed, “That was their business.”  I watched it because it was shared on the FB wall. I was horrified to see it branded on my page as videos I’ve recently watched.  Hold up now, that’s my business.

Facebook seems to be sprouting feeds.  Feeds on the side of the wall, tracking your every move and that of your friends on the matrix officially makes Mark Zuckleberg the biggest brother of them all.  Instead of a covert operation to watch you through bugs and phone taps we’ve given him and potential employers a panoramic view.  I knew it was a new day when at the Back to School welcome address for teachers, we were urged to clean up our online presence because students and their parents alike would surely Google us before they buy the last item on their school supply list.

“Don’t ever put anything down in print that you don’t want to come back and haunt you.” Yet another pearl of wisdom from a nearly eighty year old mom that couldn’t possibly conceive the speed at which messages are carried.  Thank God for the “Delete post” option.  I have said some stupid stuff that was grammatically incoherent in an attempt to post-the-most.  It’s none of your business that I am a blabbermouth presently on hold with Mark Zuckleberg to add an automatic spell-check feature to each of my post.  Thank goodness it was added! 

Social Media is not solely to blame for our loose ways.  Trust me, I am a consumer as well and not some radical living in a bunker.  I was amazed at how old acquaintances from the old neighborhood, my graduating class and a couple of cousins twice-removed were drawn to me like gnats on fly paper just days after joining the FB revolution.  I know the benefits and savings of updating my loved ones online as opposed to updates by mail or the occasional face to face visit. 

Who can forget the golden-rule, Thou shall not air dirty laundry, particularly thine own. Clearly this was in effect circa BRW (before The Real World).  Reality TV is about as unscripted as Mitt Romney’s running mate introduction.  Are we to believe they call a take and yell cut 30 minutes later.  I mean who thinks and then eventually says, “ Tee Tee and Trina haven’t been getting along since their big fight at the club, so I invited them to lunch to talk it out. Can you say cue WWF Smackdown music? 

Tabloid-TV like TMZ fill our TMI* meter to the brim if not overflowing.  Whose business is it anyway?  Why do I need to know that the one of the two ghostly Twilight movie stars stepped out on the other?  And why have some waited with baited breath until Jennifer Anniston got engaged as if she was the only pretty girl dumped by an equally pretty boy.  Lastly, it was oh-so or shall I say,  Ocho-wrong of me to watch the HBO release of the Miami Dolphins coach canning Chad Ocho-Cinco after head bumping his wife.  Wait, did I say, me?

“You are what you say you are.”  Modern day translation, you are what you say, share and admit to watching.  I wish I had all the boy band charm and talent to sing like Justin Timberlake, but instead of bringing “Sexy Back.”  I want to bring conservative back.  Discretion back, not as-sexy as the original, I know, but needed.  Leave something to the imagination.  As I suggest in my latest novel, 
Land of Promiscuity, there is a price to pay for being indiscriminate. You’re squandering something of your own when you’re preoccupied too long with someone else’s matters. Mind yours. Mine or tap into yours. What is the something that I am referring to – well that’s your business!

Sherryle Kiser Jackson is a wife, mother and author of four books: Soon and Very Soon, Soon After, The Manual and Taylor-Made. Her newest novel, Path to Promise will be released in the fall of 2013. She calls her brand of fiction, Christian chronicles sprinkled with embedded truths from a timeless Word. She has also edited her first anthology, Weary and Will and will host her first retreat called Write Away Weekend by year’s end. Get to know Sherryle’s Lit World at 

*Too Much Information



Intimate Conversation with Sherryle Kiser Jackson


Multi-published author, dynamic speaker, teacher, wife and mother, Sherryle Kiser Jackson hails from Prince Georges County Maryland. Trained at Salisbury State University, she’s a teacher by profession, but a writer by pure passion. Dubbed as a relationship weaver that is like the Terri Mc Millian of Christian Fiction, her writing style reflects an honest commentary on her life with Christ. She strives to be a fresh voice in Christian Fiction.

Her triumphant debut novel, Soon and Very Soon (2007) was followed up by her sophomore release, The Manual (2009). Her highly anticipated follow up to SAVS titled, Soon After(2010) and Taylor Made (2011) rounds out her bookshelf. Sherryle has plans and storylines to keep her busy for the next two decades. Her fifth novel, The Land of Promiscuity was released in 2012, and she’s hosted her 2nd Annual Write Away Weekend, an intensive writer’s residency the first weekend in October.

BPM:  We want to start reading your latest book in the series, Path to Promise, 
but we need to know about the first book. Tell us about Land of Promiscuity and the topics you discuss in the book.
Land of Promiscuity is about indiscretions, broken promises and a crazy twist of unrequited love.I wanted to write a book about squandered promise. The Land of Promiscuity is a literal title but also a play on words. You hear the word promise very clearly, almost like a root word, when you pronounce promiscuity.  
If you take out the sexual connotation, promiscuous means careless, casual or haphazard. I believe a good many of us are too casual about our passion, promise and potential.

BPM: You believe in:
I believe if you're not pressing toward your promise, then you're headed toward promiscuity.
BPM: Three artists on your playlist: 
Maxwell, Marvin Sapp & Miles Davis. I love neo-soul, classic soul jams and gospel because they are all soul stirring. I also like instrumental jazz and Latin music because you can tell your own stories to the melodies.

BPM: The greatest threat to literary freedom are:  
Copy cat writers who take the latest trend whether, street lit, christian or erotica and try to write to a formula rather than write from the heart. It perpetuates the notion that we are not diverse and we all read the same thing.

BPM: How has your writing evolved: 
I now know that I don't have to hammer my message. Even God doesn't hammer us with His word but allows experiences to sculpt and change us. I'm more subtle now. I layer my novels and trust the reader will find the themes.

BPM: The first thing you do when a book is released:
I buy a copy from th local bookstore, online retailer or bookclub and read it from cover to cover. This year I plan to go past bookstores with a gift for the sales associates there. They are the first advocates of your book to undecided readers.
BPM: Do you view writing as a gift or a career:
Writing is an extension of my faith. I am gifted as a wordsmith, so upon profession of my faith, I vowed to make my faith my profession. Although  I am a teacher by profession, I am a writer by pure passion.

BPM: Your greatest accomplishment as a writer:  
I write for my church magazine, Kingdom Living. I was proudest as a writer when I gave voice to the exceptional people of my congregation like my son labeled as Speical Needs.
BPM: If this world were mine:  
If this world were mine more African American writers would have more opportunities to exploit their copyright in various mediums so we won't be seen as one note artist and market successfully across color lines.
BPM: Will the printed book ever become obsolete: 
I don't think so unless paper becomes scarce or the price of printing and binding becomes expensive for the average American. Reading is a sensual experience, not just with the emotions the words on the page evoke, but the actual feel, and even the smell of a book that readers new and old still crave.

BPM: What legacy do you wish to leave: 
I want to leave a legacy of writing contemporary embedded with truths from a timeless Word of God.

Land of Promiscuity available in stores and online.
Promise, Promiscuity, where do you fall?

Purchase Land of Promiscuity  by  Sherryle Kiser Jackson

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