African American

They Call Me Gomer...

By

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Synopsis

"Dear Diary, On September 3, 1982, two things happened that I'll never forget: I acquired an older sister, and I fell in real love. But tell me, what does an eight-year-old know about love?"

For nearly a decade, Hosea Felix and Gomer Williams were inseparable. She loved him from the moment she laid eyes on him. Their friendship was iron-clad until temptation rocked Gomer to her core. Somewhere along the way, she fell for another guy and traded young love for instant pleasure. Not only is Jeri Cole fine—he is a bonafide gangsta, unattainable, and off-limits. Jeri was all Gomer could think about, and the only thing she thought she wanted. Despite her big sister already laying claim to him, not much could stop Gomer from clawing at the possibility of love and diva status. Getting with Jeri felt right...but at what cost?

They Call me Gomer… JC Miller's sophomore spin-off novel enthralls readers with a deeply woven, emotionally heart-tugging take on the Book of Hosea. By examining rape culture, drug addiction, family secrets, and the vulnerabilities of Black girls in pursuit of fortune and fame, this contemporary tale gives those in search of a good dra-mance all the feelings!

JC Miller’s book, ‘They Call Me Gomer,’ is his spin-off that takes readers on a wild roller coaster trip through tunnels and hills filled with turbulent emotions, a thunderous array of drama and, of course, there are the secrets.


Aren’t there always secrets?


The story begin when two things happened that Gomer Williams never thought would happen – she fell in love, and got an older sister.


But then she was eight when it first started.


JC Miller enlightens readers with each page. Gomer’s story


First, there is Gomer and her best friend for a while, Hosea, have a strong story to tell. They had a rock-solid friendship, until … another man comes into the picture.


Imagine – Mr. Not Right. That would be Jeri – who is


Gomer’s travel into life takes her into a journey on the other side of the tracks – one that careens her into a world of crime, promiscuity and greed.


She wants what she can’t have, and finds a way to get it – at all costs – including to her dignity and respect. Relationships in her life change – some for the better and some for the worse – including her relationship to herself.


Miller’s writing style reminds me of a combination of the queens, Danielle Steele and Toni Morrison.


In looking at Miller’s writing style, I would have to say this story is so easy to read. Miller’s style is unique due to a smoothness in the transitioning of words – from the ‘narrative’ and change of perspective.


Miller’s diving into Gomer’s story is intricate in each step as the story is not told about Gomer, but dives into what makes Gomer tick. In fact, Miller’s writing is almost formulaic – as the story seems to involve the characters, Gomer, her sister, the men in her life, in moments of crisis.


Don’t we all like to read about others, their moments of crisis, to help us forget our moments of crisis?


Well, in JC Miller’s “They Call Me Gomer” readers get all of that and more – thanks to all of the twists and turns.


Grab on to a copy of the book, a weighted blanket and a warm cup of hot cocoa, and put on a stream of some 50s Motown love songs. You will enjoy the afternoon or evening you take to read the book, and you might find out a few surprises for sure.






Reviewed by

Becky has had a 'serious love affair' with books since she was old enough to know what the word 'love' meant.

A former award-winning newspaper editor with a bachelor's degree in English/journalism and a master's in psychology, her goal is to help you get your book out there.

Synopsis

"Dear Diary, On September 3, 1982, two things happened that I'll never forget: I acquired an older sister, and I fell in real love. But tell me, what does an eight-year-old know about love?"

For nearly a decade, Hosea Felix and Gomer Williams were inseparable. She loved him from the moment she laid eyes on him. Their friendship was iron-clad until temptation rocked Gomer to her core. Somewhere along the way, she fell for another guy and traded young love for instant pleasure. Not only is Jeri Cole fine—he is a bonafide gangsta, unattainable, and off-limits. Jeri was all Gomer could think about, and the only thing she thought she wanted. Despite her big sister already laying claim to him, not much could stop Gomer from clawing at the possibility of love and diva status. Getting with Jeri felt right...but at what cost?

They Call me Gomer… JC Miller's sophomore spin-off novel enthralls readers with a deeply woven, emotionally heart-tugging take on the Book of Hosea. By examining rape culture, drug addiction, family secrets, and the vulnerabilities of Black girls in pursuit of fortune and fame, this contemporary tale gives those in search of a good dra-mance all the feelings!

Prologue - My Dream Guy

"What the—?" Jeri spontaneously yelps, reaching for the gun strapped under his jacket as he enters his penthouse apartment. He's startled, but I dare not move an inch. I continue to seductively pose, standing in his hallway, buck-naked and awaiting him, glistening in my sister's oils. You would think that I would feel self-conscious, but nope, I don't have any shame. I'm nowhere near being fit, but my curves are all in the right places. 

"Why don't we stop playing games?" I coyly smile and strike another sensuous position against the wall.

"How the heck did you get in here?" He grills me, regaining his cool and lustfully staring like I'm a surf-and-turf meal that he’s about to indulge. He removes his mink-trimmed leather coat and tosses it to the floor. I inhale deeply. 

The smell of expensive stuff does something to me. A brisk chill runs down my spine. This could all be mine. Whoa. I exhale, attempting to play it cool but the excitement has already reached my breasts. I reveal the spare key that Rah, my sister, and his boo, made in case of emergencies, dangling from a rabbit-foot keyring hooked around my pointer finger. I bite down on my bottom lip. Eeeooowww, it's about to be on.

"Pfft! I should've known that key was a mistake." Jeri removes his pagers and then loosens his tie. There’s no doubt he's referring to giving Rah the key to his world when he should have given it to me. 


Earlier, at Jeri's strip club, Vixens, I witnessed him in what seemed like a vengeful ranting, pimp Rah out in an auction to the highest bidder. He was acting like she wasn't the girl he'd been boasting about being his ride or die for the past six years. Sensing a break-up, I quickly made my move and jumped on the chance to become my sister's replacement. I didn't stop to think of the consequences. From the moment I met Jeri, I craved him like chocolate. So when the opportunity arose, I tossed caution to the wind and left the club early with a plan of seduction in mind.

 

Strutting down the hall boldly, wearing only a pair of black patent leather stilettos, I stop to allow Jeri to absorb all my lushness, then I toss him the spare key. He catches it mid-air with one hand without taking his eyes off me. I swallow hard. Hmm, a multi-tasker. That's what I'm talkin' bout. 

"So, what you wanna do?" I pop my fingers and roll my neck. 

Jeri takes a step toward me. I can feel the rhythm of Jamaica beating in sync with his diddy-bop. He licks his lips and moves in fast. Oh, snap! I brace myself. This is really happening. His favorite rap group is Wu-Tang Clan. As he approaches, I swear I can hear the chorus to "Shimmy Shimmy Ya," by Ol' Dirty Bastard, playing from the back of his mind. Raw isn't what I was expecting. Naively, I anticipated something smoother like Denzel Washington's character Bleek Gilliam, with his sexy self, playing the trumpet. Some rose petals and candles scattered about, and Jeri lifting my big butt off the ground, but he doesn't. He rips off his shirt—the buttons and all. He's built like Adonis. I melt.

"Oh, damn!" I say out loud, mentally scanning his god-like image for future reference. 

Jeri's eagerness is making me nervous. I lead him into his bedroom, hoping the change of atmosphere can conjure up a more romantic and gentle side of him. I want this dream to play out in high-definition slow motion and not fast forward. The bedroom setting only excites him more. He doesn't give me a chance to become a part of the moment. Before I know it, Jeri is kneading my body like dough, but no shivers run up my spine. His strong clammy hands grab me but don't hold me in an embrace. His juicy lips are sweet but not as sweet as I imagined. His mouth is cold, and his kisses lack the transformative ability to carry me away. I'm still not where I'm supposed to be. Instantly guilt and remorse set in, but was too late for that. Jeri is grunting, humping, and speaking in tongues on top of me. I try to psych myself into enjoying the moment that I dreamt of all these years, but I can't. This negro is high, and he smells of too much tequila. My eyes are on my chocolate dream, but his eyes are not on me. Yo, don't you realize that this is us...or maybe it was only my dream? Jeri roars in prematurely released pleasure. Damn, I really should have had a V8...I mean like really. 

I’m just about to curse him out when Rah, who wasn't invited, but not altogether unexpected, hysterically yells from the bedroom door.

"Go-Go! What are you doing?" Her eyes frantically dot over the forbidden scene. Still, from her expression, I can tell that she hasn't fully registered what she witnessed.

Jeri and I scramble in shock. I shield my naked body with my arms, while he instinctively jumps for his pistol on the nightstand.

"Damn," he mumbles under his breath, placing the pistol down and picking up a cigar instead. "Well, isn't this a blip," he teases with impish laughter, leaning back on the plush white pillows that Rah decorated their bed with. He lights the stogie, laughing harder. Payback is written all over his face, and that's why I love him. We're the same kind of evil.

"How could you? Why would you?" Rah asks, mainly toward me. The betrayal is tearing her delicate heart apart, and I'm embarrassed but gloating nevertheless in my achievement.

I lean back into Jeri's outstretched arm. All these years, I waited for Rah to familiarize herself with the pain of defeat. Yup, I'm taking this front-row seat. An arrogant mien smears across my brazen face, but at the same time, I can't help but wonder, what am I doing? Our eyes lock. Suddenly, I feel like I'm 8-years-old again, and it's September 3, 1982. Two things happened on that day that I'll never forget: I acquired an older sister, and I fell in real love.

About the author

JC Miller lives in the Pocono Mountains. Raised by her mother in the Bronx, JC showcases the soul of the ghetto through faith-based novels. She dedicates her time uplifting women and creating content through Jess, Mo’ Books LLC. On days off, JC listens to songs from her vinyl record collection. view profile

Published on November 05, 2020

80000 words

Genre: African American

Reviewed by

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