Thrillers by Pamela Samuels Young
“Mysteries That Matter!” written by Pamela Samuels Young
Failure to Protect by Pamela Samuels Young
The author of the NAACP award-winning thriller Anybody’s Daughter is back with an addictive read that tackles bullying and its devastating aftermath.
What Really Goes on Behind School Doors?
When the classroom is no longer a safe space for her child, a grieving mother is determined to seek justice for her bullied daughter. Enter hard-charging attorneys Angela Evans and Jenny Ungerman. From the very start, the two lawyers face more than an uphill battle.
An ambitious school principal is far more concerned about protecting her career than getting to the truth. She flat out denies any knowledge of the bullying and prefers to sweep everything under the rug. But just how low will she go?
As the battle enters the courtroom, the attorneys fight hard to expose the truth. But will a massive cover-up hinder their quest for justice?
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Excerpt from Failure to Protect
Excerpt from Failure to Protect by Pamela Samuels Young
Nobody cares about me. Not even God.
Just because I’m a kid, grown-ups think I don’t have problems. They tell me stupid stuff like, Bailey, you have to learn to stand up for yourself. Or Just ignore them and they’ll leave you alone. And the lamest one of all, Just pray about it. God’ll handle it.
I tried that last one about a thousand times. But like I said, God don’t care about me.
Even if I reported Kenya Jackson to my new teacher, it wouldn’t help. Mrs. Phillips is really nice, but all she’s going to do is send me to the principal’s office. Then Kenya will be even meaner to me for getting her in trouble.
That’s what happened when I told on a girl at my old school. After she got in trouble, she waited until there weren’t any adults around and pushed me into a restroom stall and stuffed my book bag in the toilet. I never told anybody about that.
I want to tell my mom what’s going on at my new school, but she’s got enough to worry about. She just got promoted to be the first black marketing manager at her company and now she works even harder than she did before. After she gets home, she still has more work to do on her laptop. The other night, she fell asleep right in the middle of helping me with my science project.
Since we moved to our gigantic house in Baldwin Hills with the dope view and a supposedly better school, she thinks everything’s all good and that makes her happy. I’m glad to see her smiling again. We were both super sad for a long time after my dad died. I guess she hasn’t noticed that I’m not smiling yet.
At my old school in Inglewood, when the principal told her that maybe I’d be “more successful in another environment,” my mom almost lost it. I was ready to lose it too. Anybody would be more successful if they weren’t being bullied all the time.
I wish my mom could understand what I’m going through. She wants me to be more like her, but I can’t. Sometimes she says stuff that really hurts my feelings.
I just don’t understand why you can’t make friends.You have to try harder to meet other little girls. When I was nine years old, everybody wanted to be my friend.
Well, nobody wants to be friends with me.
One time, I almost told my mom what was going on at Parker Elementary. But then I got scared that she would say it’s my fault because I don’t know how to make friends. So, I just keep it to myself. Every morning, right before I walk into school, I get the worst stomach ache you could ever have. It feels like a bunch of hot rocks are playing foosball in my stomach.
If my mom knew about Kenya spitting in my face, it would be one hot mess. She’s usually very professional, but if she found out what was really going on, she would turn straight ghetto and go off on everybody at the school. Then she’d end up in jail and I’d have to go into foster care. That’s what happened to my friend Trey in first grade when his mom slapped the cashier at Walmart.
Okay, I wouldn’t really have to go into foster care. I would probably have to go live with my granny in Oakland or my Uncle Marcus in Atlanta.
If I had my choice, though, I’d rather stay with my Uncle Dre. He’s really my godfather, but I pretend like he’s my uncle. One time, when he picked me up from school, I tried to tell him about Kenya always roasting me. I was surprised that he didn’t even know what roasting was. After I explained that it means dissin’ you real hard, he just hugged me and told me I had to toughen up.
You’ll be okay, he said.
But he’s wrong. I’m definitely not going to be okay.
“Please, Uncle Dre, let me stay home with you today. Maybe you can homeschool me. Please!”
Dre scratched his shaved head and laughed. “Unfortunately, I’m not smart enough to homeschool you or anybody else.”
“I’m serious,” Bailey pleaded, her face twisted in terror. “Please don’t make me go!”
As his Jeep inched along behind the line of cars doing drop-offs in front of Parker Elementary School, Dre looked over his shoulder at the cute little girl sitting in his back seat. Bailey’s stress level was way too high. She’d had a few run-ins with a bully at her old school, but he assumed the transfer to Parker had fixed everything.
“What’s going on? Why don’t you want to go to school?”
Bailey hugged her book bag to her chest as if it was a life raft that might slip away. “I just don’t.”
“C’mon, talk to me. Is somebody bothering you here too?”
After a long beat, Bailey slowly raised her head up and down.
Dre had intentionally used the word bothering, not bullying. He was tired of hearing all the hoopla about bullies. Kids getting picked on was nothing new. It happened in his day and would keep happening until the end of time. Sometimes life is just hard. Kids need to know that sooner rather than later.
Truth be told, today’s kids were just too damn soft. People turned backflips to protect them from the realities of life. Like everybody getting a trophy just for participating. That was the stupidest crap he’d ever heard.
“Please don’t tell my mom,” Bailey begged, her brown eyes glassy with tears. “She’ll fuss at me for not standing up for myself.”
Dre reached back and gave Bailey’s foot a playful squeeze. “No, she won’t. But you do need to learn how to stand up for yourself. If somebody’s being mean to you, you have my permission to be mean right back.”
He wasn’t condoning violence, but if another kid started some mess, the only way to show ‘em you weren’t no punk was to clap back twice as hard. Most bullies were nothing but wimps anyway. Once you stood up to them, they backed off. That’s what he’d taught his son to do and Little Dre had never had a problem. He just had to teach Bailey to do the same.
“You don’t get it,” Bailey huffed, her shoulders drooping. “That won’t help.”
They were almost at the drop-off point, when Dre steered his Jeep out of the line of cars and made a hasty U-turn in the middle of the street.
Bailey sprang forward in her seat. “We’re going home?”
“Nope.” Dre pulled to a stop along the curb across the street. “I’m walking you inside. I want you to show me the kids who’re messing with you.”
Bailey flopped back against the seat, her lips puckering into a stiff pout. “That’ll just make it worse.”
Turning off the engine, Dre hopped out and jogged around to open the back door. “Let’s go.”
He took Bailey’s hand as they stepped into the crosswalk. The closer they got to the school doors, the slower Bailey walked. By the time they reached the entrance, Dre felt like he was tugging a sixty-pound bag of potatoes behind him.
“Please, Uncle Dre,” Bailey whispered in a panic, glancing all around. “Please don’t make me go!” Her tiny hand clutched two of his fingers.
Dre took Bailey off to the side, squatted until they were at eye level, and caressed her shoulders.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s no reason for you to be this stressed out about going to school. If somebody’s messing with you, I need to know about it. What’s the kid’s name?”
Bailey hung her head as a tear slid down her right cheek. For a second, Dre thought she was finally about to come clean.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled, hoisting her book bag higher on her shoulder.
“Yes, it —”
Bailey jerked away from him and dashed inside the school.
He was just about to go after her when a woman took a side step, blocking his path.
“I’m sorry, sir. May I help you?”
Dre flinched at the suspicion in the woman’s caustic voice. He pointed behind her, growing anxious as he lost sight of Bailey. “I was dropping off Bailey. Bailey Lewis.”
Lifting her chin, the woman folded her arms at the waist. “And you are?”
“I’m Bailey’s”— he paused— “uh, I’m Bailey’s godfather.” He’d started to introduce himself as her uncle to make himself sound more legit.
“Your name?” Her tone conveyed all the warmth of an ice chest.
Dre pegged the woman to be in her early-forties. Her straight black hair fell just below her chin in a blunt cut that matched her funky disposition. She was wearing a sleeveless, form-fitting red dress that hugged every inch of her curvy frame. Actually, she was kind of hot. Taraji P. Henson with a bad attitude.
“Bailey’s mother didn’t tell us someone else would be bringing her to school today.”
She looked him up and down like he was some pedophile on the prowl for a new victim.
Dre couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away. Despite an innate seductiveness, the woman still managed to carry herself with the spit-shine polish of a CEO. If professionalism had a smell, she would reek.
“Erika had a meeting in Irvine and asked me to drop her off.”
Dre shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was rare for someone—especially a female—to make him feel this degree of uneasiness. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“I’m Ms. Freeman. The principal.”
He should’ve guessed. A sister with a little power.
“I’ll be dropping Bailey off and picking her up from time to time,” Dre said, anxious for the chick to move out of his way so he could go after Bailey. “Erika just got a big promotion. So her job’s a lot more demanding now.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep, that’s right.” What’s up with this chick?
“Please ask Ms. Lewis to email Bailey’s counselor to verify that you’re authorized to pick her up from school.”
Dre nodded. “Will do.”
He still wanted to go inside, but the woman stayed put like a queen guarding the gates of her castle.
Without saying goodbye, Dre pivoted and headed back across the street. As he opened the door to his Jeep, he made a mental note to have a talk with Erika. She’d been thrilled about getting Bailey into Parker Elementary because of its stellar reputation. But the place might not be any better for Bailey than her old school.
Dre also couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. And not just with Bailey.
( Continued… )
© 2019 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Pamela Samuels Young. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.
About the Author
Attorney and award-winning author Pamela Samuels Young writes fast-paced mysteries that tackle important social issues. Her thriller Anybody’s Daughter won the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Fiction. A former journalist, Pamela also writes sexy, sassy romantic suspense under the pen name Sassy Sinclair. Visit her website at http://www.pamelasamuelsyoung.com.
A Kid’s Curiosity … A Parent’s Nightmare
The award-winning author of "Anybody’s Daughter" is back with an addictive courtroom drama that gives readers a shocking look inside the juvenile criminal justice system.
Graylin Alexander is a model fourteen-year-old. When his adolescent curiosity gets the best of him, Graylin finds himself embroiled in a sexting scandal that threatens to ruin his life. Jenny Ungerman, the attorney hired to defend Graylin, is smart, confident and committed. She isn’t thrilled, however, when ex-prosecutor Angela Evans joins Graylin’s defense team. The two women instantly butt heads. Can they put aside their differences long enough to ensure Graylin gets justice?
Unbeknownst to Angela, her boyfriend Dre is wrestling with his own drama. Someone from his past wants him dead. For Dre, his response is simple—kill or be killed.
Series: Dre Thomas Series On Amazon
Paperback: 352 pages
Mystery, Thriller & Suspense > Thrillers & Suspense
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Young Adult Editions
PAMELA SAMUELS YOUNG’S COURTROOM DRAMA TACKLES TEEN SEXTING EPIDEMIC
PAMELA SAMUELS YOUNG’S COURTROOM DRAMA TACKLES TEEN SEXTING EPIDEMIC. Read the entire article: http://bit.ly/2ic5JFR
Author and attorney Pamela Samuels Young still remembers the exact moment she decided to take on the subject of teen sexting in a legal drama.
“My law school classmate was griping about yet another teen client charged with possession of child pornography as a result of sexting,” Young explains. “I was absolutely floored when he told me that prosecutors were not only charging kids, but requiring them to register as sex offenders if convicted.”
Abuse of Discretion, Young’s eighth mystery, provides a shocking look at the consequences of teen sexting and also takes readers inside the juvenile criminal justice system. In the book, 14-year-old Graylin is charged with possession of child pornography. The A-student and his father soon find themselves embroiled in a legal nightmare. Abuse of Discretion is the sequel to Young’s thriller, Anybody’s Daughter, which garnered her an NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Fiction.
Before writing Abuse of Discretion, Young had no idea that a teen who sends a naked picture of themselves or another minor could be charged with distributing child pornography. “I’m a lawyer and I didn’t know this,” Young says. “Parents need to talk to their children and be aware of what they’re doing on their computers and cell phones. When the police show up at your door, it’s way too late.”
Young feels strongly that society sends mixed messages to children. “Today’s kids are inundated with sex,” Young notes. “It’s everywhere: on TV, in music, in movies, in advertising. Our teens watch shows like The Bachelor and see a guy making out with three or four nearly naked girls in less than an hour. So when they hit puberty and start exploring their own sexuality, of course they don’t think it’s any big deal to send a naked picture. We shouldn’t penalize them with life-altering criminal penalties for being too immature to fully comprehend the consequences of their actions.”
NOTE: Abuse of Discretion is the sequel to Young’s thriller, Anybody’s Daughter, which garnered her an NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Fiction.
“Mysteries That Matter!”
Pearl Pages for Pamela Samuels Young
Anybody’s Daughter by Pamela Samuels Young
Listen to Pamela read from the book: http://www.audioacrobat.com/note/CR50mX54
Lawful Deception by Pamela Samuels Young
Listen to Pamela read from the book: http://www.audioacrobat.com/note/C2BvMP1x
Buying Time by Pamela Samuels Young
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Lawyers in Lust by Sassy Sinclair
Listen to a reading from the book: http://www.audioacrobat.com/note/CphW02zX
Sexting is defined by the U.S. court system as “an act of sending sexually explicit materials through mobile phones.” The messages may be text, photo, or video. Sending or receiving a sexually suggestive text or image under the age of 18 is considered child pornography and can result in criminal charges. Watch the video as Pamela explains why she wrote the book.
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Singletary? Why do I have to go to the principal’s office?”
I’m walking side-by-side down the hallway with my second-period teacher. Students are huddled together staring and pointing at us like we’re zoo animals. When a teacher at Marcus Preparatory Academy escorts you to the principal’s office, it’s a big deal. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I’m a good student. I never get in trouble.
Mrs. Singletary won’t answer my questions or even look at me. I hope she knows she’s only making me more nervous.
“Mrs. Singletary, please tell me what’s wrong?”
“Just follow me. You’ll find out in a minute.”
I’m about to ask her another question when it hits me. Something happened to my mama!
My mama has been on and off drugs for as long as I can remember. I haven’t seen her in months and I don’t even know where she lives. No one does. I act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. I’ve prayed to God a million times to get her off drugs. Even though my granny says God answers prayers, He hasn’t answered mine, so I stopped asking.
I jump in front of my teacher, forcing her to stop. “Was there a death in my family, Mrs. Singletary? Did something happen to my mama?”
“No, there wasn’t a death.”
She swerves around me and keeps going. I have to take giant steps to keep up with her.
Once we’re inside the main office, Mrs. Singletary points at a wooden chair outside Principal Keller’s office. “Have a seat and don’t move.”
She goes into the principal’s office and closes the door. My head begins to throb like somebody’s banging on it from the inside. I close my eyes and try to calm down. I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s probably just—Oh snap! The picture!
I slide down in the chair and pull my iPhone from my right pocket. My hands are trembling so bad I have to concentrate to keep from dropping it. I open the photos app and delete the last picture on my camera roll. If anyone saw that picture, I’d be screwed.
Loud voices seep through the closed door. I lean forward, straining to hear. It almost sounds like Mrs. Singletary and Principal Keller are arguing.
“It’s only an allegation. We don’t even know if it’s true.”
“I don’t care. We have to follow protocol.”
“Can’t you at least check his phone first?”
“I’m not putting myself in the middle of this mess. I've already made the call.”
The call? I can’t believe Principal Keller called my dad without even giving me a chance to defend myself. How’d she even find out about the picture?
The door swings open and I almost jump out of my skin. The principal crooks her finger at me. “Come in here, son.”
Trudging into her office, I sit down on a red cloth chair that’s way more comfortable than the hard one outside. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it might jump out of my chest.
The only time I’ve ever been in Principal Keller’s office was the day my dad enrolled me in school. Mrs. Singletary is standing in front of the principal’s desk with her arms folded. I hope she’s going to stay here with me, but a second later, she walks out and closes the door.
Principal Keller sits on the edge of her desk, looking down at me. “Graylin, do you have any inappropriate pictures on your cell phone?”
“Huh?” I try to keep a straight face. “No, ma’am.”
“It’s been brought to my attention that you have an inappropriate picture—a naked picture—of Kennedy Carlyle on your phone. Is that true?”
“No…uh…No, ma’am.” Thank God I deleted it!
“This is a very serious matter, young man. So, I need you to tell me the truth.”
“No, ma’am.” I shake my head so hard my cheeks vibrate. “I don’t have anything like that on my phone.”
“I pray to God you’re telling me the truth.”
I don’t want to ask this next question, but I have to know. “Um, so you called my dad?”
“Yes, I did. He’s on his way down here now.”
I hug myself and start rocking back and forth. Even though I deleted the picture, my dad is still going to kill me for having to leave work in the middle of the day.
“I also made another call.”
At first I’m confused. Then I realize Mrs. Keller must’ve called my granny too. At least she’ll keep my dad from going ballistic.
“So you called my granny?”
“No.” The principal’s cheeks puff up like she’s about to blow something away. “I called the police.”
“We haven’t heard much from you this afternoon, Dre. How’ve you been making out?”
I instantly straighten up from my slouched position on the therapist’s too-soft couch. This clueless chick has no idea how much I hate being here. Her suffocating, windowless office with its mint green walls, inspirational sayings and shiny cement floor make me feel like a caged animal. Almost like it felt when I’d been caged up for real.
“I’m making it.” I squeeze my niece’s hand. My sister Donna is sitting on the opposite side of Brianna, looking as worried about me as she is about her daughter.
Having to participate in this kumbaya session with this over-articulate sister who keeps pressing me to bare my soul—something I ain’t gonna do—is almost painful.
If I’d met her in a club, she definitely would’ve piqued my interest. Cute face, nice tits, and thick around the hips, just the way I like my women. But as I stare across the room, that’s not what I see. She might as well be one of those annoying, yellow happy faces because that’s how she comes off.
The therapist folds her arms and rests them on her enormous boobs. “Oh, c’mon, Dre. You can surely dig a little deeper than that.”
If this chick tells me to dig deep one more time, I swear I’m gonna kick her ugly-ass purple coffee table across the room. She seems to believe that constantly picking at my scabs will cause my pain to seep out and float away like the excrement that it is. Everyone in this room knows that’s bull. Nothing—not even time—can heal this hurt.
My lips curve into a tight smile. “As long as Bree’s good, then I’m good.”
This is only our third family counseling session, but it feels like the thirtieth. Whenever the urge to bolt hits me—like now—I tell myself that after everything Brianna’s been through, spending an hour a week listening to this psychobabble is the least I can do.
“But we want to know if you’re good,” the therapist presses. “Brianna wasn’t the only victim. This was a traumatic experience for you too.”
I inhale as the silver plaque on the wall above her head catches my eye. Life is lived forward but understood backwards. Yeah, tell me about it.
“As I’ve said before, I’m dealing with it.”
“Actually, he’s not dealing with it at all,” my sister volunteers. “The Shepherd’s in prison, but Dre wants him dead. To be honest, I’m more worried about my brother than my daughter.”
My baby sis is such a drama queen. Except this time, she’s right on the money.
As much as I’ve tried, I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that children like my thirteen-year-old niece—babies really—are being sold on the street like dime bags of weed. Before Brianna’s kidnapping over a year ago, I knew nothing about the world of child sex trafficking. Now I could teach a college course on the subject. My niece was literally snatched off the street as part of a Facebook scam run by a thug called The Shepherd.
It pisses me off that the dude only got a measly twelve years. He’s even in a low-security federal prison. From everything I’ve heard, that’s basically summer camp.
The therapist is waiting for me to say something. Unlike most people, she’s quite comfortable with silence. To get her off my back, I pretend to open up.
“Most of the time I’m fine.” I fake a long sigh and lower my head, but my voice starts to quiver all on its own. “Then I think about what Brianna went through and I get pissed off.”
Brianna pats my hand. “I’m okay, Uncle Dre. And you’re gonna be okay too.”
A warm sensation sweeps across my face and my heart. This little girl has such a hold on me. I lean down and kiss the top of her head.
The therapist gives Brianna an encouraging smile. “I’m proud of your progress, Brianna. How’s everything between you and your mother?”
“Um, pretty good.” Brianna gives her mother a quick sideways glance. “But she still won’t let me have another cell phone or an Instagram account. She won’t even let me sleep over at my friend Kendra’s house.”
“I’m with your mother on the cell phone tip,” I say, turning to my sister. “But you could back up off her a little bit. Why don’t we give Instagram a try and see how it goes? All the kids do is post a bunch of pictures on it. I trust her not to do anything crazy. Right, Bree?”
“Right,” Brianna says eagerly.
“Yeah, okay, I guess,” Donna says, full of reluctance. “But I’m getting one of those programs so I can monitor everybody you’re talking to and everything you post.”
Brianna gives her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Mommy!”
“But I’m still not ready for a sleepover,” Donna insists. “Whenever Brianna’s out of my sight, I still get nervous about somebody kidnapping her again. I can barely handle her being back in school.”
“Let’s try this,” the therapist suggests. “How about having Brianna spend the night at her grandmother’s house first? Then we’ll go from there.”
“You do trust your mother to take care of her, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Brianna’s face lights up. “And when you and Angela get married,” she says, nudging me with her elbow, “I can have a sleepover at your house too. Don’t you think it’s about time you bought Angela an engagement ring?”
Outwardly, I chuckle, but on the inside, dread slithers through my veins like a warm shot of heroin. My girl Angela is the best thing about my life these days. But the timing of us finally getting together couldn’t be worse.
Neither Angela nor my family knows about the call I received from my cousin this morning. From behind prison walls, The Shepherd put the word out on the street that he’s gunning for me.
This poses a problem on multiple fronts. I promised Angela that my life of crime was behind me. And, at the time, I meant it. But The Shepherd’s threat changes things. Angela’s a lawyer who walks the straight-and-narrow. If she knew what was going on, she’d want me to report it to the police. That ain’t my style. I’m gonna handle my situation my way.
My top priority for the moment is keeping myself and everyone around me safe. Unfortunately, Angela and I recently decided to move in together. She texted me this morning about checking out a rental house in Leimert Park. I have to find a way to slow her roll, at least until this situation is resolved. If we shack up now, she could end up as collateral damage.
Brianna’s voice punctures my thoughts. “And when you propose to her, you better get down on one knee.”
“You’re a little smarty pants. You know that?”
“Yep. And I’m also smart enough to know that you’re going to be okay. Just like me.”
Brianna presses her right cheek against my chest and hugs me tight.
My niece’s words are soothingly prophetic. I will indeed be okay. As soon as I find a way to kill The Shepherd.
Abuse of Discretion (Dre Thomas Series Book 3) by Pamela Samuels Young
Explore Legal Thrillers by Pamela Samuels Young
LET'S WRITE TODAY!
Pursue Your Passion at Any Age by Pamela Samuels Young
Read the entire article: http://letswritetoday.blogspot.com
Passion is defined as “an intense desire or enthusiasm for something.” That’s how I feel about writing. My love for it is so intense, I couldn’t not write.
I'm blessed in that I’ve never been afraid of hard work or change. After several years as a TV news writer, I chucked that career and went to law school in my thirties. Reading legal thrillers soon became my favorite stress reliever. Disappointed by the lack of diversity in legal fiction (I never saw an African-American lawyer, rarely a female lawyer), I set my sights on filling that void. To my surprise, mystery writing turned out to be my most challenging career choice. But I stuck with it and published my first novel, Every Reasonable Doubt, at the age of 47.
Whether your dream is to write a novel, start your own business or go back to school, you can make it happen—at any age. Here are a few tips to help you get started.
About the Author
Pamela Samuels Young has always abided by the philosophy that you create the change you want to see. While growing up in Compton, California, Pamela set giant-sized goals and used her talent, tenacity and positive outlook to accomplish them. She consequently achieved success in both the corporate arena and literary world simultaneously.
An author, attorney and motivational speaker, Pamela spent fifteen years as Managing Counsel for Toyota, specializing in labor and employment law. While still practicing law, Pamela began moonlighting as a mystery writer because of the absence of women and people of color depicted in the legal thrillers she read. She is now an award-winning author of multiple legal thrillers, including Anybody’s Daughter, which won the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Fiction, and her new release, Abuse of Discretion, a shocking look at the juvenile justice system in the context of a troubling teen sexting case.
Prior to her legal career, spent several years as a television news writer and associate producer. She received a bachelor’s degree in journalism from USC and earned a master’s degree in broadcasting from Northwestern University and a law degree from UC Berkeley School of Law. She is a frequent speaker on the topics of teen sexting, child sex trafficking, self-empowerment and fiction writing.
To invite Pamela to a book club meeting or speaking engagement, visit her website at www.pamelasamuelsyoung.com.
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