The Garden Experience: Snippet

Hello my followers!! It has been a while.

I have been working diligently on a few new books that follow the Damia Willis, FBI Series.

Today, I’m sharing a short snippet from book two of The Garden Experience; this part shares how men should be thinking when serving as well as being married.

Peter looked off into the distance; up towards the sky as the moon was very bright. He gathered his words in his mind before he spoke. “We have a responsibility as husbands to take care of our wives. Everything that happens with each given day brings us closer to the end of our assignment; the assignments we’re on for that particular day and we are still HUSBANDS.”

“No matter who I am or whom I was, I’m married to Jasmine under the eyes of the Lord; still serving still living and-”

“Still leading.” Anthony interjected

“Still leading.” Peter agreed. It was a long day and going into a longer night.
“Peter,” Reed started, “You are not alone. We have never been alone in anything we need to do for the kingdom. Peter, God’s got this and us.”

Get ready for book two before Black Friday!


Dana Williamson

B.A.D. Books


Voices: Little Sister Best Friend

Another snippet of a story from VOICES.

Charlotte answer the phone groggily, “What?” She knew it was Carl as he was the only one to call her in the middle of the night. Plus, he had a different ring tone from the others in her contact list.

“Open the door.” He said.

“Yep.” She replied getting out of bed. Charlotte walked down the hallway towards the foyer not concerned she was half dressed. He long t-shirt barely covered her thighs and her lack of underwear didn’t bother come to mind either; she stopped at the closet and grabbed a robe. As she rubbed her eyes trying to free her contacts of the cloudy film of being sleep, she looked through the glass door and saw Carl’s face. Throwing open the door she screamed, “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE??”

Pushing past Charlotte, Carl walked through the dining room into the kitchen before he answered, “She had a boyfriend.” Carl packed some ice into a towel and put it on his face. Sitting at the kitchen table he looked up and around; Charlotte was in her room getting dressed.

“I don’t know who this broad thinks she is, but no one punches my friend and gets away with it. I mean seriously!!!” She pulled on sweaters, gym shoes, a hoodie and grabbed her cell phone. Charlotte turned towards her room door and looked at Carl staring at her.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“I’m going to handle my business.”

“What business is that?” Carl sat down in the hallway chair across from her room; bedrooms were off limits for friends especially of the opposite sex. “You are not the one to go fighting anyone on my behalf.”

“You’re kidding me?” Charlotte started pacing, “How bad are you hurt? Was it one punch?”

Looking at his left hand Carl answered, “I think my hand is broken. My head hurts. I’m not sure how…I…got….here.” He ran to the main bathroom and started votimiting.

“I’m calling staff.”

“No….no.” Carl could be barley talk as he couldn’t stop throwing up. Charlotte was concerned as she went into the guest bedroom and called Peter while getting clothes for Carl.

“He’s been beat up, Peter. He may have a concussion. I’m ready to kill this broad……what?….she had a boyfriend or something.” On the other end, Charlotte could hear Peter getting up and getting dressed. He told her to call two other staff members and wait on a driver to take them to the hospital; they would handle the rest.

At the hospital, while waiting on x-rays, Carl laid in the bed allowing the pain killers to take hold of him. Before he could become someone he wasn’t, he looked at Charlotte texting frantically on her phone.

“Lottie…” He whispered. He only called her that when the time called for it; this was the time. Charlotte turned to him and smiled, “Lottie, you’re my best friend. You take care of me. You make sure I’m good.”

“Yes, yes, I do. We’ve been friends for a long time.” She replied to him looking back at her phone.”

“You were going to fight her weren’t you?”

“Yes. You stopped me.” Charlotte said frowning at him. “I’m not the little sister for just any reason.”

“Right, you’re my little sister.” He said with his voice fading. Carl was falling asleep fast.

Peter walked in before Carl could fully get to sleep, smiled at his friends and said, “No, buddy, she’s our little sister and she makes sure it’s handled.”

“So?” Charlotte started.

“It’s handled.” Peter stated looking at Carl fall asleep smiling. He looked back at Charlotte and continued, “No one is dead, but truly hurt. The girlfriend knows you’ll be seeing her this week.”

“Good. I have a lot to say.”

“Sis, we’re out of here in thirty-days. The business is moving. Do you understand? Don’t break any laws!” Peter stated walking out the door.

“I wont.” Charlotte whispered. “Maybe.”


Voices: The Strong Woman

When you come here and read what I have shared in books and in life, there is a part of me left behind on these pages. Today is not different as I share another part of the current project Voices. Are you ready for the strong woman?

Five people were running toward her in the hall; she never moved. She didn’t flinch and she didn’t blink. Her best friend, her boyfriend and three of her colleagues were running towards her with looks on their faces she couldn’t read. Yet, she didn’t move.

“You must-”

“Come now-”

“It’s not good, babe-”


They all spoke at once causing her head to spin. She put her head down and calmly said, “Kara, please tell me what’s happening.” As she slowly rose her head and looked into Kara’s eyes, she saw a sadness so deep it caused her heart to stop.

“Babe,” Stan, her boyfriend, started, “This is going to sound strange from me, but-”

“Please get on with it.”

“Your ex-husband was just admitted to the hospital. He’s had a heart attack.” Stan said now walking with her towards her office.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Ms. Childs we have moved your appointments to Mr. Bower and sent all calls to voice mail.” Her colleagues were shutting her computer down as she walked in and grabbing her belongings. Kara was behind Stan whispering under her breath.

“I’m not leaving.” She said putting her coat back and turning her computer back on, “It’s my ex-husband, not my now boy friend.” Who shouldn’t even be my boyfriend she thought to herself.

“It’s important to be there.” Stan stated.

“Yes, important to be there.” Kara said sarcastically.

“Kara, stop.” She responded leaning her head into her hands.

“He was a significant part of your life; you can’t just not go. Your kids, your other mother.” Stan was pacing the office, the colleagues left  shaking their heads.

David Bower stood in the doorway of her office and leaned on the door frame. Kara turned to him and he motioned for her to leave. He stepped into the office and whispered to Stan who shook his head and left the room closing the door behind him.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Yes you are.” David said walking towards the window in the office. “You’re going and I’ll take you; no I’ll send Kara. Do you want to know why? I’ll tell you why.”


“Oh no, let me tell you why. I hated that guy; your husband. I hated him while you guys were married and I wanted to choke him a few times. Every time he came in this office, I wanted to choke him. And then today, your daughter called me. My girl called me and was very panicky. I don’t like panicky and THAT’S MY GIRL; she’s just like my daughter-”

“We know.” She said full of sarcasm but smiling.

“Nonetheless, she called me; I heard the grand-kids in the background screaming. She called me and I heard what she didn’t say. I hated the guy, but he’s not going to make it. I heard what she didn’t say. He’s not going to make it. The specifics don’t even matter right now, just that he’s dying; twenty-four hours or less, you ex is over.” Turning towards her, he started yelling when he continued, “YOU CANNOT BE BIG MAN ON CAMPUS TODAY. You just CAN’T. Someone else needs you today and tomorrow they will too; that means you better GO HELP  someone else. Go. Go now. HE’S ABOUT TO LOSE HIS LIFE!”

They were married for ten years and divorced for five helping the children and grand children. They took trips. They had parties. They made mad, passionate love. Every argument, every event, every smile and every memory started to flood in; she stood up.

The chair flew back into David catching him off guard causing him to wince in pain. Pacing was the answer for her; pacing until talking was the option.

“I was more excited about the divorce than he was. I was more excited about alone time with him than he was. I was more excited about him stopping by the office than he was. In our marriage, we only had 20% time together. But you know what David, I was strong through it all. I allowed him to treat me like garbage. LIKE GARBAGE, and you all want me” Her voice started to break and the tears started to burn in her eyes.


“No, no, you’re right. I hated him, too. I hated him and then there is this, you all want me to go to him and say what?” She continued to pace as she thought about everything her marriage wasn’t, “What the HELL, am I supposed to say? and why?” The tears were flowing.

“Cameron…” David knew what was coming next. They had worked together for years, and he knew the emotions were going to overwhelm her.

“Oh my GOD. I can’t do this, David. HE’S ABOUT TO DIE.” Screaming now and falling to her knees, David caught her and sat on the floor with her while she cried. “He can’t die. We’re friends now. He won’t die. I’ll go pray. He can’t die, David.”

“You’ve been strong for him, for your kids, for us here at work; Cam, you’ve been strong and now, those you’ve been strong for are breaking down and need to be strong for you. Cameron, I’m being strong for you; on this floor right now. FOR YOU.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet and said, “Now get up and go to your family. To your friend the ex-husband.”


“Kara, come take her.” David started to cry hugging Cameron, “Come take her now.” Kara ran in and grabbed her friend to take her to the hospital.

In the car, Kara felt the need to express her feelings in one full sentence. “Bestie, I’ll be strong for you this time.”

They both cried all the way to the hospital.


A Vision of Protection

I love you guys! All of you that come by read, like and share from this blog. I need your help. Tell me if the below start to my recent story line intrigues you. I am working on another project, but want your insight before I finish it.

She was running away from the commotion; trying to help all of the people near her. She turned and felt compelled to go back; to see what was really happening and what she was running from. 

At the end of the hallway, she noticed a man in a black suit with his back towards her. She started to tiptoe; slowly walking towards the man. He turned and smiled at her. In her spirit she heard do not come any further go and hide. At that point she noticed she was wearing a long white dress. She turned to get behind a marble banister. Looking back towards the man she heard in her spirit I’ll protect you. Other men grabbed her from behind the banister as the door the man in the black suit was standing in front of blew open and he disappeared.

Thank you for your time.

I welcome your comments.

Dana Williamson

Voices: The Other Woman

Voices is a series of blog posts I’m sharing from my book of the same name:

VOICES: The truth, the pain, the love and the choice. 

Ladies, some of us have been the side chick; you know the one that plays second to the main chick and get all of the left overs from a man WE CAN’T EVEN CHEAT ON??

Yes, well today, I’m writing from the voice of the other woman. Not just the side chick, piece of pie waiting in the rafters but the woman YOUR MAN is in love with.

Step inside the bedroom and listen on in this conversation.

“We are not having this conversation, Paul.”

“We must, Sara, we must.”

Sara was speaking to Paul, on speaker phone, while getting ready for bed.

“Paul, this is just a ploy to get over here; it’s not happening.”

“I want to talk about leaving my wife.” Paul’s voice sounded strained.

“Paul, you are not leaving your wife.”

“I am.”

“Whatever, I’m going to bed, Paul. I might even have company tonight.” Sara said sacastically while sipping on some wine.



“I’ve been doing this all wrong, and I’m sorry. We need to talk; please open your door.” It was after 11pm; Sara looked towards her bedroom door and down the hall as Paul said, “I’m outside, in the rain, please open the door.”

Sara trotted down the stairs to the front door and looked through the glass to see rain pouring down and Paul in it. She threw open the door and said, “You didnt?”

“I left my wife Sara. I told her about you and how I was-”

“What? You were what? What could you possibly have told her?” Sara was truly stunned. Late night conversations or lunch dates once a week weren’t an affair; adultery maybe but not an affair.

“I’m in love with you Sara.”

“How? By Conversation?”

“Sara…” Paul stood on the uncovered porch with sad eyes, “My marriage has been over since before I met you. When we met and started to have lunch and, yes, conversations, I realized what I was missing. My entire falicy of a marriage is my fault. We married out of college, started great careers, scheduled sex, and never had time to consider kids or anything that looked like fun. Her work meetings turned into weekend vacations in other countries and my work meetings consisted of me staring at the walls in my office.”


“I didn’t leave my wife because of you, but becasue you helped me see my faults. I”m not here to say I want you, let me in your bed. I don’t even know why you said that but, I’m here to say, we need to talk about this…I love you. You Sarah..not your body, but YOU.”

Sara stood looking at home not thinking he was soaking wet from the rain and her hardwod floors were beginning to show signs of flooding. Sara was stunned.

“Look, I’m checking into the Hilton for an unprecedented amount of time; I just thought you should know, by seeing my face no doubt, how I feel. I’m sorry I bothered you. Good night Sara.” Paul turned and started down the steps of the porch when Sara stopped him.

“Pauli,” She spoke his given name in almost a whisper but he heard her. He turned back with a hopeful look in his eyes, “I love you, too.” Sara released the statement from the pit of her soul scared of what this meant for them both.

Paul walked back to the door and leaned in to kiss Sara on her cheek. He whispered in her ear, “We’ll meet for lunch this week like we always do, and I’ll call you from time to time, until we know it’s right to go to the next level. I will respect you, Sara. ”

“Thank you, I agree.” She whispered back.

Paul drove off heading to the Hilton hotel; Sara didn’t close the door until the tail lights faded in the distance.

Voices, (c) 2017, B.A.D LLC dba Destined Publishing

Jemma…isn’t her name

I write books.

When I write, I tell the stories God gives me; some of those stores don’t make sense.

When I first started writing, I was a teenager, actually a preteen and the story just continued. To this day, 30 some years later, it has not been finished. I can’t even tell you why but right now there is a new story. A story I started writing for a contest and, then, it took a life on of it’s own.

Not true.

God redirected the path of the character. Jemma. Jemma is the character, but it’s not even her name.

“You’re not going to meet her.” Edward stated. 

“Yes, I am. She is the piece to this puzzle we don’t have.” Jemma said grabbing her coat. 

“No, we don’t know her, what she does; come on Jemma.” He pleaded. 

“Mr. King said we needed to meet. I didn’t think she would drop her life and be here in London at the blink of an eye.” 

“Right! Who is she? What does she need to say that couldn’t have been said over the phone.” 

Jemma plopped down on the couch and sighed. Edward was right. She couldn’t say why Damia Willis, was coming to meet her.


“Edward, that isn’t even my name.”

“It’s the name you have lived with; you can’t leave it behind.” Edward sat next to her and put his hand on her knee. “Who is this woman?” 

“Who am I? Who am I Edward that she dropped her life and is on a jet HERE RIGHT NOW?” Jemma started to cry, “Who am I?” 

(From Book 2 of the Her Journey to the Truth)

Get ready for the book launch of book one of Her Journey to the Truth


The Day You Wake Up: Own Your Story

I cooked a big meal, set up audio for my tribe, and recorded a ministry message on social media. Then I had company. As soon as they walked into the house I got tired. Every bit of energy was drained from me. I excused myself in order to take a nap, but it wasn’t necessary; once I got out of their presence I WASN’T drained any longer.

I woke up not knowing I would have to tell my own story every day in order to meet the needs of my roof; meaning I would have to share my experiences in order to get the point across. When I first wrote Damia Willis, I thought it was a different view of the Prophetic Patterns.

I was wrong. 

I wrote my story. God gave me words to write there ended up being my story. Everything I wrote and the experiences while I wrote was DIFFICULT to handle. I had to OWN MY STORY. Every prophet started to tell me what I already knew and I didn’t own it.



and then, again..

This is part of books 9 and 10 of the Damia Willis, FBI series. There is never an ending to the story God creates.


“It’s not our problem.” 

“It’s always our problem; everything we do for God is our problem.” 

It’s not OUR problem, Reed; go and be with your wife-

“THIS IS ABOUT MY WIFE!!!! Your friend, Anthony. I guess  you forgot how you were called away almost 5 years ago. How we all have traveled across the world with money that just SHOWS UP, and now-“

Anthony stood up while pounding his fists on the table screaming back at Reed, “I KNOW!! SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND; YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND. DON’T YOU EVER FORGET I WILL KILL YOU ABOUT HER.” 

Peter calmly walked into his dining room. He looked at his friends screaming at each other, both holding back the tears and anger. Peter chose his words wisely, while praying.

“Friends,” Peter started. 

“Bullshit!” Anthony said turning to Peter, “Friends don’t lie to each other. We’ve been through sh-“

“Watch it, Anthony, you will not catch me slipping again.” Anthony sat back down at the table. Peter turned to Reed as he leaned on the door frame. “Reed-“

“Where is my wife, Peter?” 

Peter hesitated looking at Reed’s back avoiding Anthony’s glare.

“Peter.” Reed said in a normal tone without turning around. 

“She’s in London.” 

“On her own.” 

“On HER OWN??” Anthony screamed. 

“Who is this woman? Why did she go? What do we know? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” Reed said turning to Peter. 

“I’m still doing the research.”

“No, no-” Anthony started.

“No, Peter, that’s not true. You know something.” 

“Reed,” Peter shook his head and sat at the table, “I can’t even begin to explain this woman, my life, my service.” 

Reed sat down at the table and said, “Start with anything we don’t know, Peter; we have all the time in the world.” 

“We need Damia back.” Peter said. 

“Not in the middle of a lie we don’t.” Anythony stated. 

“Fine, but first of all, this is not our problem.” 

“BUT MY WIFE, is in LONDON, and she won’t TAKE MY CALLS.” Reed’s cell phone started ringing; looking at the caller ID it was Damia. “Babe? Where are you? What are you doing?” 

“I love you, Reed. I’m so sorry I left without saying  a word. I had to get here. I needed to help. I’m sorry you woke up and I wasn’t there.” 

“It’s okay.” Reed said looking at Anthony, “What’s wrong?” 

“Reed, tell Peter, he’s wrong. This is our problem. This is spiritual. I can’t do this alone.” 

“What is it?” Peter asked.

“She said you’re wrong.” 

“Is he there?” Damia asked, “Let me speak to him?” 

Reed handed the phone to Peter, “Yes, love?” 

“PETER!!!! My God, who is this WOMAN??? Peter, she’s dying.” 

Peter stood up abruptly knocking over his chair, ” What? What?” He motioned to the others to follow him. They got in the chauffer driven car, “Airport. Keep talking Damia, I’m putting you on speaker.” 

“She’s dying. I met her at the restaurant and as soon as she laid eyes on me she started clutching her chest. She’s had a major heart attack.” 

“OH my God.” Anthony said. 

“Yes, wait, what are you doing there, Anthony? No never mind. According to her boyfriend, this is the second heart attack in four monhts. The doctors are doing what they can, but she’s dying.” 

“Damia, get to my house, now. We’re getting on a plane.” 

“But what about Jemma?” Damia asked.

GET TO MY HOUSE NOW.” Peter screamed then ending the call.

Everything leads to Damia

Once Upon a Time: A Test of Wills

Every year I seem to find myself in a new challenge; the challenge to accomplish a goal set by my Lord and savior. This challenge, this year, is a test of WILLS; Mine and my past.

I am a writer. I write blogs, books, Christian fiction, speechers, and sermonettes. I create responses in my head which push me pass the drama that surrounds my life. I am an ex-wife, a mother, a niece and a cousin; the past comes to Push me OFF THE COURSE.

Once upon a time is really  TODAY.

My will is to do it God’s way, hence HIS WILL NOT MINE, but at a weak point in my life I find the will of my past comes to turn that. My past is like the bully on the playground that doesn’t want you to do anything. For me the past shows up 4 times a week in my life like the bully on the playground.

The discovery of this means, I know it is challenge, but it is someting I’m prepared for; the very thing I know I can do is lean on God and not allow my past to keep me stagnated. As a writer, I will write and let the test of wills fail…..TODAY

My History

When I started this blog, it was because of my book of intimate poems ‘the lock on the door’; I never expected to share some of my Chrisitian fiction or insight for husbands and wives. I never thought I would come to this point in my life where I would have to site down and share my history. THIS HISTORY.

I wrote the poetry book while my husand and I were going through challenges and changes in our marriage. I wanted so mush to fall in love all over again to finish raising our kids, and have a happily every after. IT DIDNT HAPPEN.

I found out later that year he was cheating on me and wrote my testimony in ONE WEEK after that; I had allowed myself to be a victim and then decided NO LONGER.

Now that I am six years older, spiritually wiser, and a walking understatment, I have no time for the past. It is time for me to create new history.

I started writing this blog post because of a sinking feeling I was having; I know now that everything happens because of, and in, time.

My history is still being made, how about you?