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This is me.

This is me.
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I Write, I Breathe

I am a writer....a master and protector of words. "Like a knife, words should be handled carefully. They can cut deeply, the wound may never heal, and the scars may remain for an eternity. Or they can be used to make space to plant a seed - where fruition births legacy and feeds generations on hope, goodness, and love of humanity." ~Ey Wade

Reader's Giving Kudos

Reader's Giving Kudos
They like me. They really like me.
"Looking forward to reading more of Ey Wade's books!"Janet Brown

"Ms. Wade, WOW, that's my feeling right now, after reading your book...I will be reading more of your work. "Cassondra

"Ey Wade takes words and paints the picture..." SeaWitch

"Ey Wade is a talented author and I definitely will be reading more of her work and expecting more good works from her."Lisa

Ey Wade is genius! Keke Chanel

The first book I read by my next author spotlight blow me away. The way she intertwined her characters and the powerful message it conveyed caught me by a pleasant surprise. I experienced so many emotions reading the book, I didn’t understand why. Not until I realized one of the characters hit too close to home. Life happens. It will be okay. These are the things Ey’s book zapped me with. Since then, I have become a fan. Her writing style is different, different meaning, off the charts! Once you read one, you won’t be able to stop until you read them all. Kickin’ It With KeKe…


Beads on a String- nonfic.


There are millions of them

Tripping Prince Charming-ROMANCE

Tripping Prince Charming-ROMANCE
Romance to Squeeze Your Heart

When Clouds Touch - FATED ROMANCE

When Clouds Touch - FATED ROMANCE
Fixes the Fault in the Stars

Birth of Controversies #abortion #infertility

Birth of Controversies #abortion #infertility
Companion Novels


In My Sister's World series

Children's Favs

Children's Favs
The Amazing Jett(jet)

Read Debney's Journal- NA NOVEL

Read Debney's Journal- NA NOVEL
D.N.A-Nothing Would Ever Be The Same

TO VISIT IN THE CHAIR (characters)

TO VISIT IN THE CHAIR (characters)
Interviews with other authors, too.


Read interviews from some outstanding authors & their novel's characters.
Enjoy intimate, light hearted conversations with the characters from many of the stories in my ebooks. A way to really get to know the people you read about. They talk on Wednesdays and Fridays. Have fun reading the interviews with the characters.


So, since you are here, why don't you take a peek through each door and visit a couple of my blog sites.Bang on THE DRUMS and view book trailers. Touch THE BUG to go to my parenting site. Any and everything you want to know about Ey Wade /Wade-In Publishing, you learn by a few easy clicks. Email me at


Sharing Parenting/Homeschooling Tips


Grab Your Popcorn

I Write Book Reviews

I Write Book Reviews
Do you want your book reviewed?

Trying to get those sales up

Trying to get those sales up
Give me a hand- buy a book

My Book Store Is...

My Book Store Is...
Click pic. Come Get You Some!


Click picture above. BUY FROM MY E-BOOK STORE Please go there first. DISCOUNTS daily. And plus as author, I'll receive the full royalties.

All print publications by Ey Wade, can also be found at these locations. Go out and feed your reader or your thirst for print. Kindle, Smashwords , Sony or Kobo, Nook and iTunes

See Ey, Hear Ey at Various Venues on Pinterest.

Requesting Review Copies

If you’d like to request a review copy of one of my books, please contact Ey Wade at

Please put 'request for review copy' in subject line. I love working with bloggers and other reviewers!

You can see all of my new books (including previews) through the links on my Web site, Wade-In You can also grab pins @itsmeeywade on

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Ey on Amazon

Ey on Amazon
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Join Ey's Fan Group
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Those Who Jump Out of the Boat

Hi, I'm So Glad Stopped In....

Peeling Back the Skin #juneteenth #thisisamerica #thisisus #WeAreBeads #beyondblackhistorymonth #black365

"We, if only seen as a ‘casing’ or a vessel- we cannot change. As a thinking individual we can cause enormous changes. We just have to be accepting of the differences and learn from history. Remember history was written in more than Black and White."

Ignore the skin I'm in and get to know me for who I am. In saying this, I have to say I can't wait until February to make this point, there is so much to know about the Black race, all races, we should  shout out 365 days.

If we are honest we will accept the fact, tension in the world boils down to the color of a person’s skin, ridiculousness. We can do all, be all, live in the White House and in the end, those of us who are Black, continue to be seen as blight. Maybe it's because some never bother to get to know the true person, they only look at skin tone.

 In the history book Beads on a String-America’s Racially Intertwined Biographical History chapter three is titled Voices of Change it begins with this quote:

“There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them are without signification.” 1 Corinthians 14:10 and has a section dedicated to activism and the people who stepped out to confront the injustices directed at people of specific ethnicity.

As the author I started the chapter with a small bit of history pertaining to members of my family. These members, my father Adam Wade and cousin Robert Sampia, fought and succeeded in the desegregation of what is now Lamar University   in Beaumont, Texas. How many of us cannot find a single member of our family who has participated in the formation of history? It doesn’t matter the color of your skin or your belief system we have all voiced and accomplished a change. We are all significant.

This belief is the reason I wrote Beads on a String-America's Racially Intertwined Biographical History.

History.View Beads' Pins
This post was originally titled Dressing the Part and shared on with Literary Lunes Publications as my view of Black History Month.

With the removal of the warm, thick hooded coat of January’s obscurity, we exit the first month of the year and step into the blatant exposure of February’s stark cold reality. Where scars of old are unceremoniously ripped open, let to bleed and reawaken hurt and pain, all in the guise of history, recognition and celebration.
February, the only month of the year I have no choice, but to dress the part and look at myself as being more than just another human. In February I am no longer a common American or a mere woman. I am reminded I am different. I am a Black American.
This difference which in actual fact goes no deeper than the upper level of pigmentation of the skin, has been the determining factor of life and death. Success and failure love and hate.

I like to think of myself as a very free thinking open minded person. Never see myself as a color nor do I feel as if I should slot myself as a particular race…until someone or some event points it out.

In February, the event is Black History Month. In February I pull on my best Baptist Church Lady clothes, slap on the big hat, hold my head up high, poke out my chest and look down on the peons as I sit and watch the lives and deaths of my ancestors being exposed to the world. And I want to cry. I hurt for the ancestors of those who committed those crimes. I cry for the newer generation who do not follow the hateful discrimination of their family members. How disappointed they must be in their forefathers. How tired they must be of having to relive this year after year. I know I am. I’m tired of being seen as a color. I just want to be known for who I am.

I sometimes wonder if Black Americans fight a losing battle for equalization because the battle is not against ‘us’ per say, but against a sense of shame. Shame for an action is hard to wipe away. You can apologize for wrongs which have been done but as long as the object of shame is seen, the shame is still there and eventually shame is substituted with anger and irritation and the object becomes a victim again.  As long as we (Black people) have been in America you would assume we would now be an integral part of her structure. We shouldn’t have to be paraded in front of the world one month, no, a mere 28 days, out of a year.

We shouldn’t have to repeatedly shove the atrocities committed to our ancestors in the faces of all. These things are facts of history and should be taught to our children on the daily as are all aspects of things that have occurred in America.

Though we strive to be like our White counterparts, accepted unconditionally we are still fighting to be tolerated. I call this ridiculousness. In order to tolerate someone or something we have to step out of our comfort zone. The hardest thing in man’s mind is to be tolerant of another or to keep an open mind. We judge without thought because something or someone is different.  As an author of color I have to confess the trepidation I felt when having my books published. The doubts I harbor have nothing to do with my ability as a writer, but in the willingness of the non-colored world to accept my writings. To read the words and see people who live through the same kind of situations and handle things in the same way as any breathing individual. We don’t all gang bang, use drugs, or live the baby-mama drama. I laugh now at my wish to keep my face and bio off the back covers. Life is not fair nor is it equal in its praises or recognition.  Humans are a selfish entity believing we are better than another because of our race, religion or sexual orientation. The fight for racial and social equalization continues and will continue as long as man breathes. Our unification should grow because of our differences and if we are honest with ourselves we would accept the fact our differences are only skin deep. In religion, anyone can choose which path to follow. In education, we can all go as far as we choose.  In jobs or professionalism, whether or not to be a parent, or who to marry all are conscious choices.

We, if only seen as a ‘casing’ or a vessel cannot change, as a thinking individual we can cause enormous changes. We just have to be tolerant of the differences and learn from history. Remember history was written in more than Black and White.

The book is available in print or download on and ready for (whatever model) your eReader to eat it up.
Kindle, Smashwords , Sony or Kobo,
Nook and iPad.

Crash Into Me an excerpt from the novel When Clouds Touch #books #romance

“Even a chance acquaintance is part of one's destiny.”  袖振り合うも多生の縁
Two clouds, floating ever so slowly through the soft blue sky, one from  either direction, moved closer on a path towards collision. Angels,  their beautiful song filling the air like a lullaby, sat serenely on  separate pillows of softness, gently flapping their enormous wings to  deflect the heat of the sun's rays from the cloud's tiny inhabitants.
The tiny souls, cuddled within the silken folds, glanced across the gap and in lightening recognition, they reached out. Before their chubby fingers could touch, thunder boomed and a puff from their guardian’s breath blew the clouds apart. Continuing separate but in the same direction, the angels resume their soothing.

Both women reached the entrance to the Lamaze class at the same time. Neither paying attention to the other, one searching the contents of her purse, the other looking over her shoulder and urging her lagging husband to move faster. The collision of their large pregnant bellies causing a surprising halt to their forward motion. “ Whoa, Jesus Christ, did you feel that?” The purse digger rubbed her stomach. “I think she tried to jump right into you.”

“Whew! Yes, I felt it.” The other released a breath. “I thought my heart was going to stop, he jumped so hard. Look how he’s kicking.” She raised her top, exposing her trembling stomach. “He’s been so quiet lately, but he’s definitely awake now, Jaanu.” Turning to her husband, she stepped away from the door.
“I told you he was fine. Smart fellow,” The father pat his wife’s belly before pulling down her shirt. “already knows his attention should be on the ladies. I will do my best to teach him to respect them."
Three weeks later, Paisley lay in her little glass isolate, her face turned to her left and her eyes trying their hardest to focus on the face of the baby staring at her.
“His name is Malachi.”
Turning to face the voice whispering into her left ear, Paisley’s mother looked into the face of the mother from the Lamaze class.
“Oh, hi. So, that’s who he is. That explains it, I’ve been here ten minutes. The nurse has turned her face to the window three times and little Paisley always turns back to watch him. He’s quiet and content only when they're facing each other.”
“That’s so bizarre. Do you think infatuation starts young?”
“Sure seems that way.”
“I didn’t know you would be having your baby here.”
“I wasn’t supposed to, Paisley was in a rush. Seemed as if nothing was keeping her from coming. We go home tomorrow.”
“We leave in a couple of hours.”
And that's how they lived life, continuously rushing past destiny.
Accidentally enrolled in the same baby classes, same schools-brushing past, but never really meeting. For years Paisley and Malachi’s paths running parallel, but never crossing. In school she would have the urge to lookup, see him watching her from across the room, hallway, schoolyard and move in his direction...only to have something redirect their steps. Until many years later, when fate stepped in as they bumped each while trying to enter the revolving doors of an office building. Her huge red wagasa 和傘 falling from her hands and landing at his feet.
Paisley clutched the material covering her heart as Malachi released a rush of air. One of his hands holding her elbow to steady her while the other put the Japanese umbrella back into her hands.
“You’d swear we’ve been through this before. Feels like deja vu.”   
“I know. I felt it too, geese.” She laughed, head down as she lifted her backpack to her shoulder. “I thought my heart was going to stop.” And stopped, she thought it had when she raised eyes and found herself looking up, into the face lowered to her height. 
For years she’d imagined what she would do if she had a chance to meet him face to face and now that she had, all she could do was stand like a love-struck groupie and calmly try to get her heart rate to slow down.
“Well, don’t die right here, we’re already holding up the line.” He indicated the people behind them with a tilt of his head. “You go first.”
“Oh, gosh.” Turning, she hurried through the entrance.
Digging her hand into the side of her backpack in search of a pen, she never slowed her forward movement, knowing full well a pause would cause the rotating momentum of the glass doors to stop abruptly. She was so intent on getting the pen and a slip of paper, she never noticed the rotation ceasing until she ran full speed into the door in front of her- hitting her forehead with such force, the flesh broke. She felt herself tumbling backward and braced herself for the pain from hitting the floor.
Almost as quickly as she fell, she maneuvered her embarrassed form into a position where she could use her elbow to push into a standing position. Paisley was surprised to feel her body lifted from the floor and the contracting muscles of a powerful chest tighten under her cheek as the forward movement of his body started the rotation of the doors to open into the foyer of the building. Continuing across the foyer until he lay her on the seat cushion of the nearest settee. WHEN CLOUDS TOUCH

The Fishing Trip - Trapped Between Hero and Monster #thriller
What do you do when your character seems to have crossed the moral boundaries?
 What if your characters are stepping into roles many wish they could, in honest reality, apply to the deviant animals of life?
 Would you change their story in order to please society?
 In my  mind, my characters are heroes. In their world they bounce against the walls of what's right and what's wrong. As Durham says,
"I’m sure if a common person were to find out about what I am doing they would be torn between two minds. One side would negate me into the role of a murderer while the other side, the more truthful side, would applaud me for taking a stand and ridding the world of useless and dispensable trash.


 ~At ten years old, Durham plotted his first murder. He watched all of the after school specials, tried telling the adults in his life, but nothing good came from it. How could it when most of the adults were the problem? His mom in her drug induced world had refused to keep the guy out of their lives. Somehow or other he and his little sister always ended up being the ones punished, whether it was through the foster care system or being returned home to live in a worse scenario - they always ended up back in the clutches of the stepfather.
Decatur Pugh would taunt them by saying he had bought them from their mom for a few pieces of crack. He would laugh and say they were more than his children they were and would always be his property. He had them believing he could do whatever he wanted to them which was why they were always returned. Life had seemed hopeless. His little sister was eight years old when she jumped out of a third story window at school and killed herself.
At ten years old Durham succeeded in killing his stepfather.~

~From memory and constant practice he counted his steps. At his tenth step he shouted out the world ‘life’, a signal to Roman that he was on his way. They’d planned this scenario perfectly and at Roman’s response of ‘demanded’, he continued on to his next position with The Monster a few steps behind him. Swiftly zigging to the left and behind a tree he stopped, hand over mouth to stifle the sounds made from his effort to catch his breath.
The dark clothes he wore helped to make him invisible and The Monster continued in the direction of Roman’s voice. Everything was going as planned. Moving quickly and quietly he counted his steps to be in place for the next shout out. Thirty steps, around the fallen tree, and then crouch beside a row of bushes. This would put him in the most dangerous and vulnerable position, on the edge of the raven.
He could hear Roman’s light steps approaching instantly followed by the heavy thumps of The Monster’s shoes and his verbal tirade of obscenities and threats. At the sound of Roman’s shout of the word action’, he jumped out of his hiding place at the same time Roman made it through his maze and paused at his side. Throwing Roman one of the rods they had hidden during one of their practices they swung at the monster. Purposely smacking the back of his legs until his forward steps of attempted escape caused him to fall over the edge.
His screams and the final thud of his body as it hit the ground below released the tension from their bodies and they cheered in triumph. When the celebration ended, they did their best to clean any evidence of their involvement before running back through the dark, placing the rods to their places in the garage and creeping into their beds. The next morning they continued life as usual or as usual as living in Shiningbal permitted.~
“Boy, I should kill you for that.”
“You can think you could, but you would be deceiving yourself. I’m going to tell you this one time,” Durham moved to press his nose directly into the man’s nose. “This girl here is mine and if you try to hurt her, you will die on the spot. If she doesn’t want to do this the deal is off. No if ands or buts. You will have to find your own kid.” He turned to her. He could see she was afraid and having her beat on was not and would never be a part of the plan. “You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to.”
“I’m sorry. I promise I won’t hurt you.” The cretin stood up straight and offered his hand in apology, not a single sign of sincerity anywhere in his eyes. Penny put her hands in her pocket and looked toward Durham.
“Girl, you know what we came out here for.” Durham looked straight at her, making sure his steady gaze would not sway her decision. “All I can do is promise I won’t let him hurt you.”
“Alright, that’s good enough for me.”
Moving to stand on the other side of Durham and furthest from the guy’s reach, Penny stood until the deal was settled and then moved to get in the car. Durham had already slid under the steering wheel and started the car and she, as was habit got in the back and assumed the guy was to get in the front. But he climbed in the back next to her and slammed the door shut.
She was immediately made aware the freak was the violent type of pervert who got his kicks from the brutality of the sexual act he would force on a child. Before she could get her defenses up he threw her on her back and practically had her pants off before the car was shifted into drive.
Totally engrossed in the fight to protect herself she was unaware of Durham pulling over or getting in the backseat. One minute she was in a struggle for her life and the next she was sucking in the last putrid gusts of breath the creep gasped. Durham, lifting the man's dead weight off of her, pushed him to the floor without saying a word until he was back behind the steering wheel.
"Listen, Penny. You can stop during this anytime you want. This is far more dangerous for you than it is for me. I don’t want anything to happen to you
"I’ll be alright.” Taking a deep breath she wiped the tears from her cheeks as she straightened her clothing. “Do you ever get tired of doing this Durham?" Feeling as if she would break down and cry in torrents, Penny kept her head down and out of his field of vision through the rearview mirror.

Publishing Info You Need to Know

Publishing Info You Need to Know

Writer Beware™ Blogs!

About the Craft of Fiction & Writing

Writer Unboxed

Submissions. Published to Death

Publishing ... and Other Forms of Insanity

Book Marketing

Book Marketing


Build Book Buzz

Build Book Buzz
Sandra Beckwith

Build Book Buzz

For the Love of Marketing

For the Love of Marketing
Reach Your Promotional Goals

Creating Social Butterflies

Stay Prepared

Stay Prepared
how to, games and flash fiction

Indies Unlimited

Southern Writers Suite T button

Southern Writers: Suite T

She Writes

She Writes
Women Writers

A Newbie's Guide to Publishing

Rachelle Gardner, Literary Agent


Enjoy This Gift

Enjoy This Gift
MP63V (code)

Internet Radio Interviews. Your Chance to Hear Me Live

Internet Radio Interviews. Your Chance to Hear Me Live
Sometimes I'm nervous.

The Reading Circle Interview

Ey Wade Visits Through the Looking Glass

"A Saturday Night Special" with John T. Wills

Chatting With Nefertari

Chatting With Nefertari
Really easy going. Comfy.

Ey on Cypher's Den

(Pinterest)Interviews With Bloggers

(Pinterest)Interviews With Bloggers
See Ey Hear Ey

Giggling With Joey

Giggling With Joey
This fellow is so funny.

Ey on The Author's Nook

Listen to Ey Wade with Joeygiggles on Blog Talk Radio

1st Visit With Joey Giggle's on Authors Nook

Second Intervew with Ey Wade by Joey Giggles

Wade-In Publishing Disclaimer:

The author of Wade-In Publishing publishes her opinion. The tips and advice offered, including, without limitation, any advice on disciplining your child (ren), is undertaken at your sole discretion. Should you decide to follow all or any part of the advice provided on this site you and they do so entirely at your own risk, and by voluntarily undertaking such risk, you hereby release Wade-In Publishing, its agents from any and all claims, actions, damages, obligations or liabilities based upon any acts or omissions in connection with the advice provided herein. We make no promises or guarantees regarding the outcome of the situation for which you have sought our advice. We provide: Guidance, Not Answers.

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