I Ain't Said Nothin' But A Word...

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE December 26, 2006 ISBN: 0-37386-006-4 Price: $5.99 / $7.99 AUTHOR ANNOUNCES RELEASE OF SIXTH NOVEL AND ROYALTY DONATION INTENTIONS: IN THE LIGHT OF LOVE National best-selling author, Deborah Fletcher Mello, is pleased to announce the release of her sixth contemporary romance novel, IN THE LIGHT OF LOVE. Known for her insightful, entertaining and poignant story-telling, Ms. Mello continues to enthrall her readers with her newest tale of love and seduction. Leading a college youth ministry on a mission trip to the motherland, Talisa London is convinced that her destiny doesn’t include the incredible man she encounters at an Atlanta hospital fund-raiser. But when she and the magnanimous Dr. Jericho Becton find themselves working side by side in a war-torn African nation, both donating their services at a Ugandan children’s orphanage, they quickly discover that destiny’s plans go beyond both their imaginations. As danger lurks where they least expect, both are swep

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR! I'm off for the holiday and probably won't post again until after Christmas. There's just too much to do and I am quickly running out of time. But please come back again next week. There will be much going on and plenty of announcements. Until then, my best wishes to you all for a safe and blessed holiday season. Thought I'd leave you with a little holiday entertainment. Just click the red button, enter your name in the little box, then click the arrow to start. ENJOY!

The press release for the new book has been written and approved. The January newsletter is almost finished and just about ready to go to print. Promotional packages are laid out with the envelopes addressed just waiting for my quarterly newsletter. And, I still haven’t done an ounce of holiday shopping. No , take that back. I have only completed an ounce of holiday shopping. My marketing plan for the next book has come together quite nicely. I’ve got book signings scheduled from the beginning of February and running pretty well through the month of March. I fully intend to come off the holiday season hitting the ground running. I have a lot riding on my next book and not only for myself but for others as well because I’ve made the decision to donate a significant percentage of the royalties I earn on this book to others. Details of my donation intentions will come within the week. I’m in a giving mood but I’m not interested in standing in some long department store line to

Mr. Ben stopped by for a visit. He’s been under the weather lately and was very apologetic about having stayed away for so long. He was excited to share that the problem he was having with his “Johnson” (see Strictly Dickly – 9/16/2006) has been somewhat resolved. I didn’t ask how and thankfully he didn’t feel a need to tell me. He did however want to share his experience with his new lady friend’s daughter. The lady friend (who’s moving much to fast for his liking) has three children, a “hellion" of a daughter and two “lazy ass” sons. Recently, the daughter had invited the two of them to her home to have dinner with her and her husband. Now bear in mind the daughter is probably in her mid to late forties. They had a very nice evening and after dinner the husband wanted to show Mr. Ben his gun collection. As men do, the two headed for the gun room to talk man talk, leaving the two women to their own devices. Some time later the women come to check on the two of them. The lady frie

As a little girl, weekend trips to my granny’s house were like traveling to wonderland. After my grandfather’s death, my granny lived with her older sister. The two women were like night and day. Granny was the free spirit who allowed you to stay up until the wee hours of the morning watching horror movies while snacking on chocolate cake and popcorn. Granny always prepared my favorite foods, and with her, there was only one rule: Break all the rules! Her older sister, Aunt Janie, was the conservative sibling with many rules and regulations. She took me to church on Sunday mornings and insisted I sit through Sunday school. She dictated bath times, insisted at least one vegetable (usually collard greens) be consumed during a visit and dolled out punishment if she deemed such necessary. Aunt Janie taught me how to play bidwhist. Granny taught me how to play poker. Aunt Janie taught me proper etiquette. Granny taught me flirting skills. They balanced each other nicely and I have

Being cute is hard work. It also involves a degree of time and effort that’s not so easy to come by. A modicum of vanity doesn’t hurt either. With a to-do list that is already miles long, I don’t have but so much time to worry about being cute. And I’ve never been particularly vain. I remember my mother admonishing me once as I stared at my reflection in the mirror that my face wasn’t going to keep me from being hungry. “Worry about what’s in your head and your heart,” she’d exclaimed, “‘cause pretty won’t take you but so far.” It was probably one of the last times I remember worrying about what I looked like and more importantly what others might have thought. But I realized, as I was struggling to get through my resistance training this morning that I’ve been spending a lot of time lately worrying about being cute. And for the life of me, as I fought to get through that last set of chest presses, I couldn’t remember when the concern about my weight, and my hair, and my looks

I can't even begin to tell you what I was thinking when I wrote this. Then again, I probably could. But I won't. I'm sure it would only serve to get me in some trouble. Enjoy! She sat on the side of the public pool, Lycra pretending to be a bathing suit stretched over her ample frame. Her thighs flapped thick like two sides of ham, breasts pushed up and out like large watermelons threatening to burst free and flap in the wind. Dark shades covered her eyes so no one would know who or what she was watching. But everybody knew. Aretha lusted after them teenage boys with their very manly bodies who played ball in the water at the other end. She’d sigh with much appreciation whenever one or more of them would race from one end to the other, hormones raging in bikini bottoms that nicely outlined candy Aretha longed to taste. Smooth flesh in shades of midnight, chocolate, burnt sienna, toast and honey caused Aretha to breathe heavily with wanting. Aretha heaved a heavy sigh, air r

I survived a new stylist and although I left the salon looking like I had a poodle on top of my head, I couldn’t complain. I had been thoroughly entertained. And of course, I proceed with the usual disclaimer: All names have been changed to protect the guilty. Sandra, a very young twenty-something with two kids still in diapers, has been dating Tom, Dick, and Harry. And it would seem that Tom, Dick, and Harry have now fathered Sandra’s soon-to-be-born third child. Tom, Dick, and Harry are thrilled, each of them joyously contributing to the new baby’s needs. Tom purchased the stroller. Dick bought an assortment of nursery supplies, and good old Harry shelled out the bucks for a brand new SUV outfitted with three baby seats. Sandra was hardly fazed by the fact that she has now fabricated a bold face lie for these seemingly loving and responsible fathers-to-be. Her dilemma was how to keep Bob, the real baby daddy (she thinks) from ever finding out ‘cause Bob ain’t got no job, live