Wednesday, December 31, 2008


May you each have a safe and blessed New Year!!!!


I seem to get an unusual number of chain emails. Rarely do I pass them on. This one came from a dear, old friend who never passes chain mail on. I think she knew me well enough to know that this one would move me. Take these in and savor them a moment. Hopefully they'll move you as well.


1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

2. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.

3. Follow the three R’s: Respect for self, Respect for others, Responsibility for all your actions.

4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.

6. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great relationship.

7. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

8. Spend some time alone every day.

9. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.

10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and look back, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.

12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.

13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.

14. Share your knowledge. It is a way to achieve immortality.

15. Be gentle with the earth.

16. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.

17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.

18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

Friday, December 26, 2008


Eartha Kitt, the sultry-voiced songstress, actress and dancer who went from the South Carolina cotton fields to international award-winning stardom, has died at the age of 81.

During her lifetime, Ms. Kitt, a self-proclaimed “sex kitten”, purred her way into the hearts of many with versatile performances that won her two Emmys and a third nomination. She had also been nominated for several Tony Awards and two Grammys.

The woman was pure fire and ice, outspoken and unapologetic for her opinions and sexy as hell without even trying. She was the picture of vitality and I once heard her described as a woman who every man wished he could have and every woman wished she could be like. Don’t tell, but Eartha Kitt ignited my love of most things European and inspired my own deep, alto intonation and sultry swagger as I strived to emulate her grace and elegance.

Many of our young starlets today could learn a thing or two from Ms. Kitt. She will be sorely missed by many. Goodbye, Ms. Eartha...

Tuesday, December 23, 2008


Well, I'm off to the North Pole to snuggle with Santa. If I get lucky I may even get my elf-fix on!

May you each have a safe and blessed holiday and y'all know I couldn't kick off my Christmas vacation without sharing some holiday entertainment. I never get enough of the big guy!!!

Drop it like it's hot, Santa Baby!!!!
Just click the red button, enter your name in the little box, then click the arrow to start. ENJOY!

Friday, December 19, 2008


I use to give my kid a hard time for his obsession with the internet and the many interactive happenings that would inevitably put a stranglehold on his attention. Lately though I’ve needed to give my own self a swift kick for the time I’ve spent surfing the web. has become my nemesis. I’m sure most of you know that Facebook is this free-access, social-networking website started by this Harvard kid who thought Harvard kids needed a way to communicate with each other. Then he opened it to other colleges and high schoolers who had nothing better to do and eventually the rest of us old people joined in.

I initially joined thinking it would be a great promotional tool to network with fans and friends about my books. It has, instead, become this absurd playground that I find myself continually drawn to.

Currently, my most favorite thing to do on is FASHION WARS, a game designed by a company called Zynga. Fashion Wars is this fun, addictive, diverson that just enables me to waste massive amounts of time when I should be writing. Buying myself a diamond Benz with all that cash I’m making though is just far more entertaining.

And then my son turned me on to Pokey! Pokey! is another interactive game that allows you to adopt the cutest little puppy. Then you have to take care of it and it barks at you and you get to rub its tummy and there’s no poop to clean up! I adopted a very manly Rottweiler puppy that I named Biscuit. (ISN'T HE JUST THE CUTEST!!!) The problem I have now is friends have adopted puppies too but nobody is feeding and watering their pups and I’m having issues. The least of which is I probably need to be committed somewhere for a psych evaluation!

I also joined this book thing on Facebook too, but I haven’t played with it yet. I mean, like really. It’s books, right? I’m such a bad author!!

Either way, I’m having fun. Friends are invited to join in so if you’re so inclined, search for me on I’m always adding friends and you’ll definitely get invited to join my Fashion entourage.

Have a great weekend!!!

Sunday, December 14, 2008


Okay, so you had a little appetizer. Now that you’ve whet your taste buds, let’s see what other senses we might be able to tease. My book, Love in the Lineup, featured wild child Roshawn Bradsher and the ultra-conservative Angel Rios. Angel’s a man who plays games. Roshawn is a woman who’s mastered the art of playing. Together, both prove that there are more ways at winning in life.

Roshawn watched as he slowly sauntered in her direction. He stopped as he reached the edge of the dance floor, his gaze still entwined tightly with hers. He gestured with his forefinger, beckoning her toward him. Theirs was a silent conversation as Roshawn rose from her seat and made a path through the crowded dance floor to meet him halfway, her movements enticingly slow. The moment was surreal as Roshawn focused on nothing but Angel, and the sultry, hedonistic rendition of “Drift Away” billowing through the room.

As she stepped before him, Angel placed his right hand against her hip and slowly eased her against his body. Roshawn closed her eyes and dropped into the sensation as her body pressed hot against the lines of his. His hips were rocking slowly back and forth, and she moved with him, intent on following him wherever it was he planned to lead her. She leaned into him, her arms still hanging loosely at her sides as they navigated an erotic bump and grind to the beat of the music. She dropped her cheek to his broad chest and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of him. The cologne was a light musk, filling her nostrils and sweeping through her bloodstream like a sensual narcotic. The moment had taken full control of them and when she felt his lips brush ever so slightly across her forehead, The Miracles were whispering what a wonderful world it could be.

Roshawn lifted her gaze up at him, her arms reaching around to rest her hands against the shelf of his rear end. Angel smiled, never missing a step as his large palms wrapped around her back and pulled her tighter against him, his pelvis still rotating in sync with hers. Roshawn gasped as the sensations surging through her body threatened to drop her to the floor, her knees quivering in response. Her eyes fell shut once again as Angel tightened his grip around her torso, melding his body against hers. Angel pressed his cheek to her cheek and when the warmth of his breath blew lightly past her ear, Roshawn was no more good.

He could have lifted her off the floor with one hand, he thought as he held her tightly. She fit so neatly within his arms it was as if they’d been made just for her. As he held her, his body dancing easily against hers, he couldn’t imagine the moment when he would have to let her go. Her body was warm, her skin like satin beneath his palms as he slowly caressed her bare arms, his fingers tiptoeing across her back and shoulders. He savored each sensation, energy surging from one end of his body to the other, converging en masse at the apex of his manhood.

Angel resisted the urge to kiss her mouth, wanting to taste her, knowing that if he did there would be no stopping. He was barely holding on as it was as he stared down at her. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, her breath coming in short gasps, her eyes closed tightly to shut out everything but the emotions surging like fire between them. He was so hungry for her that he felt as if the heat that had risen between them was swallowing his entire being whole.

The song changed, shifting the mood as couples began to bounce around the floor beside them. Angel was still holding on, reluctant to break the bond between them. He felt her sigh, her body quivering ever so gently against him and his gaze met hers one more time. Neither said a word and the moment was interrupted as Nina stepped up to greet them.

Still hungry? Why settle for a just a taste. Click HERE and enjoy!


Shannon was on the prowl for some male attention. Girlfriend had donned her slinkiest dress, got her nails done and her hair did and she was rockin’ some serious leg and cleavage. She was determined to get her groove on and have a damn good time doing it. Instead, she was sitting alone at her table, sipping on a champagne cooler bemoaning her woes to me.

Shannon was having prowl anxiety. Guilt was spoiling her good time, big time. Shannon’s body language wasn’t giving off anything that said come hither. Her whole demeanor was screaming serious attitude instead.

Shannon told me she had a man. But her man was busy with other things and other people and always too busy for Shannon. To hear her tell it her man didn’t get up thinking about her in the morning or planning how they might spend their time. Her man thought about her when and if he had a few minutes left in his day and nothing else to do with his time. Shannon estimated that in a seven-day week they spent an average of six hours in each other’s company. Sex happened once, maybe twice, per month if she were lucky. She’d lost count of the number of dinner invitations that had been disregarded, the man not bothering to show up or showing up late, and their telephone calls had become less than amusing.

Shannon didn’t know how other couples did it, having no point of reference and so she asked. Was she wrong to want the guy she wanted to want her back? Seeing the hurt in her eyes I was reminded of my own journey when I thought desperate times called for desperate measures. When being one half of a couple felt worse than being single and alone ever did.

I explained to Shannon that her guilt came from not being honest with herself and her man about her feelings. She was unhappy but she was unwilling to say so. She was also looking for a bandage to ease the hurt of that unhappy. Clearly, boy toy winking his eye at her from across the room might make her forget how bad she was feeling but by the time her night was over, he’d be gone and she’d be right back where she’d started from.

Shannon’s boyfriend had her heart although we could argue whether or not he deserved it. But nothing about him or her was going to get better until she was ready to deal with what was wrong between them. Prowling for attention might have looked like it had its advantages but prowling still had Shannon feeling alone.

Friday, December 12, 2008


I love to share in other people's joy. And I love things of beauty.

My brilliant photographer friend, Ross Oscar Knight has this uncanny knack of giving me both, his work eloquently expounding the full magnitude of the human spirit. His visuals are so overwhelmingly breathtaking that I am reminded to view this world with all of my senses least I miss the embodiment of so many colors and textures. As I may have said before, he does with a camera what I strive to do with words.

Though we have never met, I consider Ross and his beautiful wife friends because he so readily allows us into his world, to partake of his experiences, and to share in his many blessings. He is also wise beyond his years and he just seems like a really decent guy. He brings me joy with the sheer magnitude of his talent and he makes it all look so darn pretty. Who wouldn't want to have someone like that for a friend?

As you roll into your weekend, enjoy this Ross Oscar Knight experience. I know I surely did! JOY & BEAUTY

And don't just look at the pictures. Make sure you play the slideshow too!!!!


It has been a good week.

Christmas came early and it was surprising and unexpected. I learned yesterday that my last book, Tame a Wild Stallion, has been nominated for the Reviewers’ Choice Award, Best Series Romance Novel 2008 from Romantic Times BOOKreviews. I also learned from my editor that both my Stallion books have sold out.

Earlier this week I was in angst about my career and panicked about my writing. I was concerned with whether or not writing would help pay the bills as we entered the New Year. I was feeling like my so-called career was truly out of my hands and not within my control to know whether or not things would go well for me. Y’all know it was just a few weeks back that I was bemoaning the two year window that would lapse between my last book and my next. I understood that no matter what I thought I could do, all I could truly do was write and pray. And pray some more. Inevitably, the rest would have to take care of itself. And when I let go, Christmas came early.

This had been a year of many blessings for me. The royalties didn’t roll in like water but the lights are still on and there is food in the fridge. My new dress might be rehabilitated from the consignment shop but it’s new to me. Cupid slammed one door shut, but he widely opened another and ushered me right inside. Love has truly been abundant and consuming. And no matter what my trials or tribulations have been, I can testify that my God is good all the time and he has truly been good to me.

It has been an exceptionally good week.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008


Okay, so maybe you missed it way back when. If you did, here's a little taste. Maybe you'll be inclined to try the whole meal. On the menu is Talisa London and Jericho Becton, a couple working toward a common goal in a world where danger lurks in every corner. They find themselves swept up in a wave of desire that leaves them both breathless and wanting more.

If you want more after your sample, please click HERE . I promise, dinner is divine and dessert, well, let's just say, love doesn't get any sweeter than this! This Wednesday's rewind is excerpted from my book IN THE LIGHT OF LOVE....

As Talisa turned toward the door, a tall man standing off in the corner caught her attention. His expression was pensive as he stood alone, knee-deep in thought. From the stern expression, his eyes narrowed to thin slits and his jaw locked hard and tight, the lines chiseled in his face, one could have mistaken his demeanor for brooding. But Talisa sensed that there was something more going on inside the man’s mind, something deeply personal and consuming. His face was familiar and she stopped short in her tracks as she stared blatantly in his direction.

The good-looking man suddenly jumped as if startled, his gaze locking tightly with hers. He stared at her boldly, appraising every square inch of her with obvious appreciation before lifting his mouth in a deep smile, nodding his head slowly in greeting. The silent exchange of eye contact spoke volumes, whispering promises Talisa suddenly found disconcerting. As a wave of recognition swept over her, nervous energy filled the pit of her stomach. She stood frozen, staring intently as the man slowly crossed the floor in her direction. Turning a quick gaze to the door, Talisa saw Leila and Mya waiting at the entrance, both staring curiously. Benita still stood chatting with the football player on the other side of the room.

Jericho Becton stopped directly in front of Talisa, smiling warmly. Standing well over six feet tall, he was dressed in an expensive black tuxedo. With his long and lean stature, the formal suit fit him to perfection. His thick hair, the color of black licorice, was pulled into a neat ponytail that hung down his back, stopping just below the line of his shoulder blades. Contrasting nicely against his rich, caramel complexion, his bright white smile washed over her, and Talisa suddenly found herself tongue-tied.

He extended a well-manicured hand. “Hello, my name’s Jericho Becton. Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

Talisa smiled back and shook her head, her gaze sweeping over the man’s face. Her name being called pulled at her attention and she glanced from Jericho to Mya and back again. She stammered, searching for her words, lost in the sensation of her small hand lost in the soft, warm palm of his.

“I…I was just…thinking the same…thing,” she finally managed to say, the room seeming to spin in a slow circle around her.

The man nodded, his head slowly bobbing up and down against his broad shoulders. “You didn’t look like you were having a good time,” Jericho said, his gaze flitting toward the newscaster and back.

Talisa smiled, a sweet bend to her mouth that made Jericho suddenly want to kiss the sugar from her lips. The sudden thought sent a chill throughout his body, a quiver of energy that set his nerve endings on fire.

“You were watching me,” Talisa asked coyly, her own excitement shining brightly from her dark eyes. Her hand was still lost beneath the clasp of his.

“I couldn’t help myself,” the man answered, his voice dropping into a seductive whisper.

Talisa finally pulled the appendage back, dropping her palm to her abdomen. The deep tone of his voice seemed to swallow her whole, her control lost somewhere in the depths of his intense stare. She inhaled a deep breath, willing the oxygen to calm her nerves….

…Jericho nodded, his intoxicating smile still caressing every nerve ending in her body. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Miss?...”

Talisa’s own head bobbed up and down. “London. Talisa London.”
Jericho’s gaze brushed warmth over her. Talisa felt as if she were on fire beneath his stare. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss London. I hope we’ll get an opportunity to talk more later.”

Talisa continued nodding, then turned on her very high heels to catch up with her friends. Behind her she could feel Jericho still staring, his ocean-blue eyes calling her back to him.

Monday, December 08, 2008



It the second and final week of the Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour and I'm up next with my presentation of To Love a Stallion at Y'all know I just had to plug my Stallion men with their pretty selves! So click here, My Presentation and enjoy. I can't wait to hear what you think.

And don't miss the rest of the week with the other great readings. Here's the schedule so, please, show them some love and have a great, great time.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008 - Farrah Rochon’s presentation of “A Change of Heart” in Holiday Inn at Virtual Book Tour

Wednesday, December 10, 2008 - Stefanie Worth’s presentation of “Can You Believe” inHoliday Inn at

Thursday, December 11, 2008 - Bettye Griffin’s presentation of Once Upon a Project at Virtual Book Tour

Friday, December 12, 2008 - Andrea Jackson’s presentation of Who’s That Lady at

Enjoy this final week’s tour!

Wednesday, December 03, 2008


I certainly hope you all are enjoying the start of the Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour as much as I am. Authors Donna Hill, Niobia Bryant and Dyanne Davis have brought some serious heat for your listening pleasure. I can't wait to see what the rest of the ladies have to offer.

Here's this week's schedule. Dyanne's on tap today but if you missed Donna or Niobia, make sure you go back and catch up. It's well worth it! Just click here The Literary Service or here, All The Buzz Reviews, then sit back and enjoy the ride!

Monday, December 1, 2008 - Donna Hill’s presentation of Seduction and Lies (Mature Audience)

Tuesday, December 2, 2008 - Niobia Bryant’s presentation of Make You Mine (Mature Audience)

Wednesday, December 3, 2008 - Dyanne Davis’ presentation of “A Continental Divide” in Lotus Blossom Chronicles, Book 2

Thursday, December 4, 2008 - Gwynne Forster’s presentation of A Different Kind of Blues

Friday, December 5, 2008 - Gwyneth Bolton’s presentation of The Law of Desire

Enjoy the tour!


Many of my fellow authors are very private souls, introspective by nature and sometimes painfully shy. We are very secure in our aloneness, with characters of our own design, manipulating scenarios to fill our spirits. Too many have no level of confidence with the public personas that are necessary to promote the words we hold in such high regard. I personally marvel at the authors who run from conference to conference, beaming at every book signing imaginable. Not all authors can claim the talent that must shine when they step to a podium or are spotlighted out of a crowd. For many, the magnitude of their words must simply be enough.

Writing is a very solitary art. Words come at their own pace, in their own way, and rarely can others move them along faster or maneuver a writer to get them out at a pace that is not purely of his or her own design. Writers spend hours in solitude with our words, leaning on them for nourishment as the moment moves us. And we can become addicted to that solitude, our need for it so great that the slightest intrusion can send us right to the edge. And then there are other times we so desperately crave companionship that we would readily push our words to the side and out of the way.

I am not overtly outspoken and I admire authors who are. And while my verbal skills might be lacking, I can write. In fact, I’m a damn good writer if I say so myself. But there are other traits I wish I possessed, traits that would likely benefit me in marketing myself and my books better.

Alone, I spend much time surfing the internet, following behind favored authors like a lovesick puppy. I maneuver from blog site to blog site, track book titles and reviews, anxiously seeking out words of wisdom or rants of the moment. One author in particular held my attention on a daily basis. Her introspections were thought-provoking and humorous. She was opinionated and unapologetic for being so. It was a joy to read her words and to know that she spoke from a place all of us writers, black female writers in particular, know so well.

And then she disappeared, dropping off the radar without a grunt or a groan. I understood that she was going through some stuff. We all were. I understood she was frustrated. I could commiserate. I could also understand her need to withdraw to her place of solitude, to regroup, reflect, and hopefully write. I’ve done so a time or two myself. But she didn’t come back and every day I’ve searched for something to let us know that she is well, googling for the latest news release that would affirm she had not gone far.

But she is gone and no one seems to know where she has disappeared to. Those of us who admire her tenacity and her drive, who work to emulate her talent, we would like to hear that she has taken this hiatus to bring us the next great work in literature to ever be written. We would just all like to hear that even if she’s not writing, that she is well. She’s been missed and many of us would like to know that she has found her way there.

So, if you know, and you can say, please tell me, what has happened to renowned author, Monica Jackson?

Saturday, November 29, 2008


The Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour is coming to a computer screen near YOU!

All The Buzz Reviews ( and The GRITS COM Literary Service ( have teamed up to host the Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour headlining some of today’s exciting African American romance writers, December 1-12, 2008! This exclusive ten-day virtual book tour will give avid romance readers, and new readers to the genre, a chance to hear from ten popular writers about their new and upcoming book releases just in time for the holidays!

This virtual book tour is inspired by the sultry sex-kitten, Eartha Kitt. Her Christmas song, “Santa Baby,” topped the charts in 1953 making her one of the most popular entertainers in the world. So we’re very excited to have her perform her chart-topping song just for you below (an animation produced by F. C. Snow) in celebration of this virtual book tour!

The same sensuous mix that Eartha Kitt brought to this Christmas song many years ago, is the same sensuous mix - Gwyneth Bolton, Niobia Bryant, Dyanne Davis, Gwynne Forster, Bettye Griffin, Donna Hill, Andrea Jackson, Deborah Fletcher Mello (Me!!!), Farrah Rochon, and Stefanie Worth -bring to their work and to this tour!

Romance novels made an astonishing $1.4 billion last year, making the genre one of the top sellers in the publishing industry. Though some complain that the formulaic plot and “happily-ever-after” endings in romances aren’t always indicative of real life; the staggering number of romances sold each year is testament to its popularity and staying power!

The Santa Baby 2008 Virtual Book Tour begins Monday, December 1, 2008. So get ready!

Friday, November 28, 2008


Connecting with family over the holidays is always an experience. After a meal of too much turkey and more than my fair share of pie I usually walk away with a full stomach and an even fuller heart. This Thanksgiving was no exception and it reminded me of holidays past when I’d bake and cook for days on end to prepare a mammoth menu that would inevitably be consumed in less than an hour’s time. The difference this year though was I didn’t cook a thing. What remained constant was that the fellowship was exceptionally heartfelt.

For over 26 years the ex-hubby never attended family functions. Correction. He never attended MY family functions. I can literally count on one hand the number of times he graced my family with his presence and I’d still have three fingers left over. This past summer at the family reunion, an elderly aunt asked me when I planned to marry. When I told her I’d recently gotten divorced she looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. The women gathered at her side had no recollection of any marriage involving me and another party and none of them had never ever met the man. Amazingly, within my own family ranks, those who knew he actually existed were far and few between.

I vowed that I would never again involve myself with a man who had no interest in socializing with my family. I don’t expect that every weekend and every holiday should be with my kin folk but there would need to be a willingness to at least sit across the table and break bread with them every now and again.

I understand that balancing two families can be a chore but I would hope that celebrating with one side and not the other wouldn't have to be the decision of choice. One reason I so readily cooked and hosted the holiday meals in the past was to bring our two families together to prevent the dissention that going elsewhere would surely have brought.

An acquaintance wasn’t totally happy with her holiday experience. She had hoped her boyfriend would at least stop by her parent’s home to say hello before they continued on to his family’s home for the holiday meal. She wasn't expecting him to stay for any length of time, but to just acknowledge the invitation that they had extended when they'd so graciously invited him to their home. Instead, he bypassed her folks altogether, not even suggesting they stop by for a quick hello.

I could only commiserate so much because I didn’t understand why, if that was what she wanted, she didn’t just make the suggestion herself and move on. She explained however that she didn’t want him to feel pressured and it had become clear over the past year, with each invitation that he'd disregarded or made excuses for, that her man wasn’t much interested in her family. I explained that there should have been no pressure in simply voicing what she wanted and that a man not much interested in her family wasn’t much interested in her.

I had much to be thankful for this year and I was much thankful for a perfect holiday that involved lots of family, lots of love, and a very special friend who made the whole experience one I’ll always remember. I could not have asked for anything more.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


I don’t know her real name. She would seem to be a very young woman but she has clearly not aged well. She’s fallen victim to her addictions and her whole carriage embodies the difficult times and rough roads she’s had to traverse in her lifetime. But she has an engaging smile and there is a buoyancy to her deep, alto voice that you don’t expect. There is an air of antiquity to her face, like that of an old soul and that makes me think she would have an old name, something simple and elegant, as I imagine she could have been under different circumstances. I call her Naomi.

Naomi walks the streets talking to herself. Her conversations always seem heated as she gestures with her hands, her head waving excitedly from side to side. Naomi never seems to notice the odd stares and deep frowns people toss in her direction. If you catch her eye she will be your friend, racing to your side to ask for a dollar to buy herself a meal. Naomi is always hungry and I suspect that what Naomi yearns for has little to do with a hot biscuit and cup of coffee.

Naomi rushed in to the store today to exchange four quarters for a dollar bill. Then she asked for two to tide her over for the holiday. Naomi was excited about her future. She’s headed to prison in a few short days to serve time for a number of charges. The only one she proudly claims is her drunk and disorderly conviction. Naomi was excited because it’s cold outside and in prison she’ll get three square meals per day and a blanket and bed at night.

“Gots ta’ be thankful!” Naomi proclaimed excitedly. “God is good,” she concluded as she waved goodbye, promising to come visit again as soon as she got out of jail. Naomi was grinning broadly, her face brimming with joy, gratitude shimmering from her eyes.

Naomi is grateful that prison will move her from the streets to a place with four walls and a cot. Watching her skip across the parking lot, waving excitedly at strangers as she shouted out Thanksgiving greetings, moved me to tears.

I called a friend to tell her about my experience with Naomi. Glenda was headed out of town, anxious to be as far from holiday cheer as she can get. She lost a cherished family member many years back and the holidays no longer hold any joy for her. Glenda will once again spend her holiday mourning her losses as she sits alone on some island getaway. She couldn't fathom that there are people in her life who want to share in her many blessings this year and have her share in theirs.

As you gather around your pretty tables with family and friends this season, be ever so mindful of all those little blessings that we sometimes take for granted. Few of us were privileged to have had an easy time this year. Most of us are still suffering through our individual hardships, understanding that we still have a long way to go. But even Naomi recognizes that there is always something to be grateful for. I wish my my dear friend Glenda could.

Happy Thanksgiving! May you each have a safe and blessed holiday.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008


Kelly and I were talking about being lonely. There was a hurt that resonated in her words and my heart when she asked if one ever truly gets over loneliness.

We rationalized that loneliness can be a cruel companion if you allow it to be. It can wear down your energy and beat away your spirit. Recognizing that loneliness isn’t about being alone is that light bulb moment when you have to admit that you’re not only unsatisfied with the people in your life, but that you’re also unsatisfied with yourself. Getting over loneliness begins with learning how to enjoy your own solitude. It’s about being confident with who you are, how you feel, and what you want for yourself. It's also about knowing who you want to share yourself with.

Both Kelly and I acknowledged that loneliness can move a person to look for illogical amusements. But temptations like drugs and alcohol only leave you numb, and meaningless sex becomes easy and empty. They almost always leave you unsatisfied, still craving something more meaningful that will make you feel whole and confident.

Reflecting back on our lives and our own moments of loneliness we both recognized that we’ve come a long way. Being alone no longer invokes feelings of doom and catastrophe, when being alone feels like a death sentence. Neither of us is desperate for attention or camaraderie. Not like before.

But we admit to still having our moments when companionship is missed and there are moments of longing. We’re proud that we’ve made great progress but we admit…we still have our moments.

Monday, November 17, 2008


Ginger has some issues. At the age of nineteen she’s already a single mother trying to raise a young child on her own. Ginger recently left her baby-daddy, unhappy with their situation. Ginger left, barely giving herself twenty-four hours before jumping from one man’s bed right into another’s. Ginger insists she didn’t leave her baby-daddy for her boyfriend but hey, you know what they say about it looking like a duck. Her story is quacking all over the place.

Now she’s confused and having doubts. Ginger proclaimed to the world that she might have actually made a mistake but it was too late to go back. I’m thinking that maybe Ginger should have thought about that before she pulled that other man and other people into her mess. And it has truly become one hell of a mess with battle lines being drawn and threats of war raging in the air.

The men caught up in Ginger’s mess are both naive, believing they’re the best and only for my girl. I, on the other hand, know they could both do better than Ginger if they were so inclined. I couldn’t help but note the lies Ginger so readily tells her baby-daddy, knowing that if she’ll lie to one, she will surely lie to the other. She’s telling them both just what they want to hear and not an ounce of it is based on truth. Sadly, neither man seems to have a clue.

I am remembering when a friend once told me to “never underestimate the power of the pussy!” It was her contention that pussy, in the hands of the wrong woman, could make the most intelligent man brain dead and bring him to his knees. Ginger is clearly that kind of woman, manipulating the two with the power of some pussy.

Ginger’s young, and dumb. Big words throw her for a loop and she’s perfectly content being barefoot and pregnant. I wanted to feel sorry for Ginger but I don’t. It’s becoming more and more apparent that Ginger knew full well what she was doing when she did it. One man wasn’t bringing the gravy to the table. Ginger has high hopes that the other will.

But sitting on the outside looking in, I can see something Ginger can’t. Something Ginger never bargained on. You see, boyfriend has a mother with experience Ginger can’t begin to touch. Boyfriend’s mama isn’t taking kindly to the mess Ginger has pulled her son into. Ginger has made herself an enemy and she doesn’t even know it yet. But she’ll soon learn that there’s not enough pussy power in the world that can keep a pissed off mother from trying to protect her baby boy. Hell will seem like a luxury vacation if mama goes on the warpath. I’m just hoping Ginger won’t have to learn that the hard way.

Friday, November 14, 2008


For those of you who are basking in the sexual revolution, getting your groove back or your freak on, be mindful. What you can do on the east coast of these here United States, might not be tolerable on the west coast.

Did you know it’s illegal to engage in oral sex in the following states: Alabama, Arizona, Florida, Idaho, Kansas, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Mississippi, Georgia, North and South Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, Utah, Virginia and Washington D.C.? (I’m sorry, baby, but we’ll have to move if you want me to lick your lollipop!!)

And don’t be getting’ your man all hot and bothered behind these here borders because it’s illegal for your man’s erection to show through his clothing in these states: Arizona, Florida, Idaho, Indiana, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Nebraska, Nevada, New York, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, South Dakota, Tennessee, Utah, Vermont, Washington D.C. and Wisconsin. (Really officer, I’m not happy, that’s a gun in my pocket. I swear!)

If you’re in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, don’t have sex with a truck driver in a tollbooth. It’s jail time for you if you do. (Now, you might be able to get around that one if you’re actually in a truck!)

It’s also illegal to have sex without a condom in Nevada.

Pity the poor girls in Willowdale, Oregon. Hubby can’t talk dirty in his wife’s ear during sex least he risk being arrested. (Yes, Judge, and then he starting moaning, "Oh, baby! Mud, slime, dust! I never heard such filth, your Honor!)

And for those of you in Newcastle, Wyoming, your fantasy of having sex in a butcher shop’s meat freezer is out of the question ‘cause the law says you can’t do the deed in the vicinity of frozen beef. (And I know that one was on the top of your fantasy list!)

So, if you’re traveling out and about and the moment should suddenly move you, tread on the side of caution. Don’t video tape a thing and deny it all.

Monday, November 10, 2008


Most in my inner circle know that my tastes tend to be very eclectic. My musical tastes in particular run the gamut from old school to hard rock. It all just depends on my mood of the moment what might be blaring from my stereo speakers and on occasion there are some strange things blaring. Lately I’ve been keeping my youngest child challenged with my musical selections as he strives to keep my ZUNE player up to my standards.

Sadly, one of my favorite performers, Miriam Makeba, the South African singer with the sultry voice that was at times like liquid gold passed away. Ms. Makeba was 76 years old and a true product of her environment. Her music reflected her experiences and it has touched my spirit many times since I discovered her some twenty years ago.

She was banned from her home country for more than thirty years under apartheid but she persevered, building a phenomenal musical career that touched millions. Nelson Mandela has said in a statement that, "her haunting melodies gave voice to the pain of exile and dislocation which she felt for 31 long years. At the same time, her music inspired a powerful sense of hope in all of us."

She was on stage, doing what she loved most as she performed in Italy when she collapsed. My deepest condolences to her family and friends. She will be dearly missed.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008


The people have spoken. We have an American president who is determined to change the status quo. Congratulations to Senators Obama and Biden. May they both, and their respecive families, be blessed in the weeks and months to come and may all of us come together for the greater good of our country.

Doing the happy dance, happy dance, happy dance. Snapping my fingers, whirling and twirling. Doing the happy dance!!!

Tuesday, November 04, 2008


Our right to vote came with much sacrifice. At the beauty parlor recently an elderly woman recalled the story of a young man she grew up with who years ago tried to register to vote. He was turned away and when he continued to try, refusing to accept the the ways of Jim Crow, he was lynched.

This old woman's health is failing. Her age has finally gotten the best of her. But she voted. She couldn't comprehend anyone not voting.

Men lost their lives, women suffered, and families endured overwheming travasties so that we could have a voice in our future. Honor our history and what was sacrified for us. Be a part of this historic moment is all of our lives. If you do nothing else today, go vote. If you've already voted, motivate someone else who might not. Do something!


Saturday, November 01, 2008


Don't ask me why, but I was having a memory lane moment. I posted this because when D'Angelo first came on the scene he so reminded me of my high school honey. SIGH!


Tuesday, October 28, 2008


Felicia was beating herself up, feeling selfish because a man had given her five minutes of his time and she had wanted ten. He’d favored her with one kiss and she had wished for two. She was feeling selfish and guilty for wanting more from the man she loved with all her heart.

Felicia couldn’t read between the lines when she wanted to share and her man said no, or hemmed and hawed his way out of responding to her requests. Felicia took his silences and distance, believing that it was okay for him to be busy with other things and other people when he didn’t ever seem to want to be busy with her.

Felicia needed to catch a clue. Felicia never stopped to consider that she deserved whole days and not just a few minutes of her man’s time. She never stopped to think that her man should have wanted to shower her with kisses, and hugs. Felicia couldn’t fathom that she deserved more from the man who claimed to love her. Felicia didn't understand that she should have demanded better than her man seemed able or willing to give.

Not until another man, interested in Felicia’s time and attention, pointed it out to her.

Thursday, October 23, 2008


I’m learning how to conduct a fight in a relationship. Damndest thing I've ever had to learn to do. When I was married, fights were typically these horrendous verbal assaults complete with name calling, hate-filled utterances, and accusations of wrong doing. Too frequently things (my things) would get thrown or broken with my home left in complete chaos. I would usually be left a blithering mess, sobbing until I was physically ill and unable to function. It would take me days to recover and it would sometimes take weeks for the relationship to return to some sense of normalcy.

My very special friend does not “fight”. He "discusses". There is no name calling, nothing filling with hate, no accusations. He makes his point and he moves on. Done and finished with the issue. Meanwhile I’m still readying myself for the blowup, feeling completely out of sorts when all is said and done. Only once was I reduced to tears and only because I was so frustrated by not being able to navigate my way through.

“Discussions” are proving to be a challenge for me. My verbal skills leave much to be desired. Put a pen and piece of paper in front of me and I have no problems expressing the emotions. Sit me down across a table and expect me to debate the topic and I shut down. Thankfully, my friend and I have only had two major “discussions” with each other. Both were resolvable but both times I found myself shutting down. And both times he refused to let me.

So, I’m learning. I know this writer guy who frequently blogs about his relationship with his new wife. It would seem that the two bicker and fight a lot. So much so I sometimes question how they manage to find any peace with each other. Their battles are almost always reduced to name calling. For me, that would be the kiss of death for a relationship.

Hopefully there won't be a whole lot of "discussions" for me to have to manuever. But when and if I have to, I hope I’ll do better because I'm learning.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


Much of my childhood and most of my adult years were marked with incredible disappointment and much heartache. “When things change…” became my mantra, the words spoken more times than I care to remember.

Catastrophic change came twice in my life. The first time was when I entered my marriage. I was seventeen. The ex-hubby was considerably older. I was running far and fast from an abusive situation that I didn’t believe I could tell anyone about. I ran to where I believed things could be different. I entered the marriage for the wrong reasons at a point where I had yet to discover a single, solitary thing of value about myself.

And change came. But it was nothing like I imagined or wanted for myself. I endured for over twenty-eight years in a relationship that became toxic to my spirit. I found myself existing and not truly living my life. Toward the end I was a mere shadow of the woman I knew I could be. And so I fought tooth and nail for change.

Leaving my marriage was the second catastrophic change to come into my life. I was suddenly challenged to discover and get to know this woman who stared back at me from my mirror in the mornings. And once again I experienced fear. This deep, gut-wrenching panic about where I was going and how I was going to get there. And for the first time since forever I was totally and completely alone and I was lonely.

Loneliness when you have a room full of family and friends can be devastating. But with family and friends you have the hope that things can be better and that loneliness might disappear. Loneliness when you have no one is simply debilitating because there is no hope to hold on to.

I’ve discovered much about Deborah. Most of it has been good. Much of it can be improved upon. Change has been good to me and even better for me but it has been nothing like I imagined or believed I wanted.

This past year and a half I have been blessed with many moments of overwhelming joy but I've come to realize that I’m still yearning and searching for something I haven’t yet found. It hit me as I was driving home from a friend’s in the wee hours of an early morning that for all the joy I’ve come to know I still have overwhelming periods of sadness and loneliness. And I still feel very much alone.

I’m still pretending to be well when nothing really is. I’m still lying to myself and others, trying to make all my circles fit into everyone else’s squares. And they don’t fit. I don’t fit. And I feel guilty because my many moments of overwhelming joy should be enough for a woman who’s never had any before. But they’re not and I’m desperate to figure out why.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008


Y’all want the good news or the bad news?

Based on history I presumed my next book would be released the earlier part of next year. It made sense to me most especially when agents and editors had to give me a swift kick to get them the manuscript ASAP and they got it.

Today, I reconfirmed my release date ‘cause y’all have been emailing and asking and I’ve been telling you February 2009 because that's what I was led to believe.

But today I was corrected. I was told that the next Stallion book would be released in May, not February. At first I was like, okay, three additional months, no problem. Then I reread the message. May 2010, not 2009!! That’s right, two years from now May. I got this explanation about schedules and things being completely booked for the 2009 year and the excuse list goes on.

So, unless something changes, it would now appear that there will be a full two-year window between my last Stallion book and my next Stallion book.

Maybe it's just me but I feel like me and the Stallion boys have just been given the kiss of death. If this doesn’t send my so-called career spiraling straight to hell I don’t know what else will. So much for all that damn numbers building I was supposed to be doing because it seems that there is no issue crashing and burning whatever progress has already been made. So who cares if in 2009 folks are asking, Deborah, who? Is she new? Stallion, what? Do I remember them? Hell, we all know how easy it is for a writer to pick up the pieces after a lengthy hiatus and start all over again. I'm sure my fan base will just be standing around ready to pick right up where I left them at. Who am I kidding.

And that was the good news. I told them to keep the bad. News worse than that may very well send me over the edge.

Sunday, October 12, 2008


Do you think it's chocolate all the way through?


Trina was sitting in this very nice restaurant, enjoying a very nice meal when she was suddenly consumed by an overwhelming sense of sadness. The emotion hit her like a tidal wave and before she knew it tears were streaming down her face. Trina had no words of explanation to offer her companion for her sudden mood swing. The man was taken aback like most men who hate it when a woman seemingly cries for no good reason at all.

The two had been talking about family, hers and his, and life in general, and out of nowhere she was devastated by a sense of loneliness and despair. Trina regretted the display of emotion, hating to have her friend see her in such a state, especially when she herself was having such a difficult time making sense of the moment.

In general, women are forever holding back their emotions. Expressing our true feelings is reserved for rare moments of solitude. We cry in the shower where no one will know, or scream at the top of our lungs while sitting in a closed car in an empty parking lot. There are times when our dreams and thoughts are these covert opinions that no one else can be privy to. And not because we don’t want to share them but because we are so busy shouldering other people’s stuff that there is no time or place for our own. Then the dam breaks and we explode in frustration or hurt or overwhelming sadness and we cry or scream and on that rare occasion someone bears witness to that side of us we would rather not share.

Trina cried and there weren’t enough words to explain why. And there weren’t enough words because Trina had been holding on to the wealth of her hurt for far too long.


Well, bless my sweet Martha Stewart, I have seen everything now, and much more than anyone really should have gotten a gander at. You have to wonder what this poor girl was thinking. Better still, I want to know what her new mother-in-law was thinking! If nothing else, the girl has some serious stones, and that's a good thing because I don't imagine the new hubby's brass pair are functioning at all...

My, my, my, my, my....


In the ninth grade we were required to take a second language – French or Spanish being our only choices. I desperately wanted to learn French. My father insisted I learn Spanish, refusing to sign the permission slip for French. Back then I had absolutely no use for Spanish. I thought it common. French, however, embodied the sultry, exotic lifestyle I dreamt of one day having. Today, my Spanish is good. I can read it and write it and on occasion, hold a semblance of a conversation in it. Speaking French, however, still remains my secret longing but “bonjour” and “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”, are the extent of the vocabulary I know.

Many years ago I was blessed to be able to travel internationally. I spent a few nights in Paris, courtesy of that hotel-owning company I was employed with. My command of the language was exceptionally limited and the French are not overly considerate of Americans who cannot converse in their native tongue. None the less I still held onto my youthful dreams of all the sensual pleasures the French language embodied for me.

This weekend I discovered the most adorable book that reawakened every fantasy I ever had about France and the French language. NAUGHTY PARIS: A Lady’s Guide to the Sexy City by Heather Stimmler-Hall took me on a sultry tour of the city on the Seine. It is the most adorable montage of history, facts, and steamy secrets on everything from intimate hotels to erotic museums. This purse-sized, coffee table book and travel guide is beautifully illustrated with some 216 full-color photographs. I was like a kid in a candy store as I consumed the titillating prose and sensual imagery that explored that side of Paris that is still whispering my name.

I don’t often recommend other people’s stuff but when I do you can trust that it truly touched my spirit. Naughty Paris seriously touched a nerve. Described as a naughty guide for good girls this book is also a handy planner for you wicked women as well. After reading it I may well find myself back in Paris sooner than I’d imagined.

Saturday, September 27, 2008


An old friend is having some relationship issues. He and the wife seem to have lost their balance with each other. Both brought two kids into the marriage. The wife is adamant he be a father to hers but she’s not much willing to be a mother to his. When they wage battle the wife tends to exacerbate the problem further by denying her man sex. She also tends to use her feminine ways to manipulate things she does or doesn’t want to happen in her home.

My brother has hit a wall of sheer frustration. The wife crippled his last nerve when in the throes of passion, while trying to avoid mussing up her new hairdo, she looks over her shoulder and asks him if he’s going to be there much longer. Seems there was something coming on television that she wanted to see and taking care of his needs was interrupting her flow. With one swipe of her tongue the woman annihilated the man’s self-esteem.

His partner in crime shook his head listening to him complain. Buddy-friend has never run into that problem with his wife. He had to brag that his wife is always excited to make love to him. He went on to explain thought that he’s only interested in making love to his wife every other month or so. I’m sure she’s damn excited if he’s only giving her some lovin’ once or twice every 45 days. Buddy friend seemed perfectly content with his arrangement. I had to ask if his woman was feeling the same way. Since he was so excited to share I didn’t mind pointing out that maybe the wife might be having her own issues with their arrangement. Personally, I know I’d have a lot of issues if my man, who was reasonably healthy and functioning, was only interested in making love to me once every other month. I gave him reason to pause.

I asked both men if they ever bothered to talk to their wives as readily as they talk to me. The two of them looked at me like I’d lost my mind. But talking to me wasn’t going to fix what was broke in their homes. Talking to their women, however, might.


Sharon’s Mr. Right would seem to have become her Mr. Right Now. The good as gold personality who’d captured her heart is now good and tarnished. And Sharon can’t figure out when it all went bad. Explaining the situation proved to be more of an emotional journey than a recall of exact instances. Sharon says what they currently share feels very different from what she use to feel. She insists that there is no longer any joy in Mr. Right’s eyes when she walks into a room. “He doesn’t get excited about seeing me,” she exclaimed in a small voice as if she were afraid someone might hear her. “We don’t spend any time together,” she extolled, reflecting back on the last time they’d made love. She shook her head when she’d run out of fingers and toes to count on, more days having passed them by than she was wanting to admit. “I never have his full attention,” she mused wishing away the other things and other people who seemed to have more of him than she did. “We listen to each breathe more than we talk and listen to each other,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I’m not happy,” she finally admitted, her eyes brimming sadly with tears.

Clearly, there is something there that keeps Sharon hanging on or she could have walked away. Those right now moments with her Mr. Right might be few and far between but Sharon is putting much effort existing in that realm of hurt and heartache that she keeps laying claim to. Sharon’s fighting for something and I had to ask. Is she really fighting for what she wants with this man or is she simply settling because she doesn’t believe she deserves what she wants?


I recorded the Presidential debates last night. I was just too tired and too unenthused to watch them. I may watch them later today. Then again I just might pass. I'm actually more interested in seeing Palin and Biden go toe to toe. And I say all this as I sit here remembering just how much I use to actually hate politics.


Okay, so let me get this straight. Suddenly, the economy is a mess. Folks can’t pay their bills and businesses are folding. I’m sorry…let me step back and clarify that…RICH folks can’t pay their bills and multi-billion dollar businesses and banks are suddenly folding. NOW the powers that be recognize that there is a problem with the economy. But no one was much concerned when average Joe was down on his luck with no job prospects, mortgage past due, and the collection man biting at his heels.

Now, the boys on Washington Hill are tossing ideas around to fix this mess but they’re having some issues coming up with a mutually agreeable plan of attack. Right now the plan they have has us po’ folk bearing a $700 billion dollar tax burden to fix this mess.

Our Presidential candidates decide to weigh in with their two-cents. Obama calls up McCain and says, “Hey, Johnnie, I think we should issue a joint statement to let the people know we’re on their side. We should show them we’re both committed to fixing this problem because it’s everyone’s problem, not a party problem.”

McCain calls him back and says, “’Bama, I got your back. Let’s do this.” Then McCain calls a press conference and says “I’m gonna’ suspend my campaign and ride my white horse into Washington and show them boys how we do this thing.” He then leans over to his personal secretary and says, “Give ‘Bama a call and tell him I can’t make that TV chat on Friday. I’m gonna go save America!”

Obama gets that message and raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t’ quite understand why McCain can’t keep us Americans in the loop about what he plans to do for us in 40-some odd days from now should he be voted Prez AND go help the boys in Washington tell their heads from their asses. I raised an eyebrow as well.

Now, I’m watching CNN and both candidates are in Washington, sitting in a room with Heir W and a few other over-paid suits talking tactics. So, I’m thinking, McCain suspended his campaign to go do some work in Washington while Obama didn’t and has gone to do the exact same work in Washington.

So, what happens in 40-odd some days if we’re in a crisis and while our Presidential Elect is working on that problem, another problem breaks out. Does he SUSPEND work on one until he can figure out the other? I don’t know about you but I would really like an American President who can walk and chew gum at the same time. If my President has to stop to chew, or not chew at all to walk, I’m going to be a little concerned.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


It is the opinion of my very special friend that a mother can prove to be a male child’s greatest liability. It seems that we are quick to excuse our baby boys’ bad behavior and we can be much too tolerant of their idiosyncrasies. He and I have had this discussion many times, me arguing that such is not true. Regrettably though I find myself having to own that estimation and it is killing me to have to do so.

I have raised five male children. I have to acknowledge that my parenting skills changed considerably with my youngest son. My baby boy didn’t get the same “tough love” his brothers experienced. The love he got was no less than theirs, but he was clearly spoiled more than them. That lack of “tough” love has not served him well.

After the success I’ve seen my older boys attain, I was not prepared for my baby boy to cause me any angst as he approached adulthood. I was not prepared because he was a model child, never causing me an ounce of grief. But my child is now causing me much anxiety and it dawned on me today that I am very much responsible.

Kids make mistakes. Lord knows I made more than my fair share. But my son seems to be racking up mishaps like he’s collecting trading cards. His last disasters have cost me much money and put me in a seriously compromising position with people who respect and trust my judgment. What galls me most is the kid is walking around like he doesn’t have a clue just how this has devastated me. He has shrugged it off, mulling along like throwing away money, time, and trust is no big deal.

And through it all I have been keep trying to make excuses for him. Today, however, the last straw snapped every ounce of my resolve away. I have to own as much of his mess as he does. I allowed him to continue to make mistakes because I didn’t put my foot far enough up his narrow behind for him to get a clue. Today though, he saw another side to dear old Mom and it wasn’t’ pretty. Right now my knee cap is firmly implanted in his colon and I might not see my toes again until they’re tickling the back of his throat.

I have been my child’s greatest liability. I own that. I have not clearly detailed my expectations of him. I gave him more slack than he should have ever had. But him trying to find himself has taxed my very last nerve. He is still young and there is much life ahead of him. He will not however weigh me down one minute longer to get where he needs to go. He may fall and I will offer the best advice I can to get him back up and on his feet but I will no longer lift him and stand him up like he is incapable of doing so for himself. Not allowing him to crash and burn when he’s been jetting out of control didn’t do him an ounce of good. He has grown comfortable knowing that no matter what, Mommy will pick up the pieces and make it all better.

Well, no more.

This mommy loves her baby boy beyond reason. But newsflash, kiddo, the Mommy Band-Aid store is officially out of business.

Monday, September 15, 2008


Last night I had one of the most stimulating movie experiences that I’ve had in a good long while. Tyler Perry has done it again with his newest release, The Family That Preys. This movie had me on the edge of my seat, talking to the screen. Y’all know how some of us can do!

The Family That Preys is a story of family, friendship and betrayal. Legends, Alfre Woodard and Kathy Bates play Alice and Charlotte respectively, two strong-willed friends and very Southern matriarchs. Both have children with some serious issues. Charlote’s son William played by Cole Hauser wants to steal away his mother’s control of their high-end construction firm. Alice’s daughter Andrea played with absolute brilliance by Sanaa Lathan is on a quest for the good life, looking to run fast from her humble upbringing. Andrea is less than satisfied by her stuttering, country-boy slow, construction-worker husband Chris (Rockmond Dunbar) and his many get rich quick schemes that lead to nowhere.

Preying on opportunity, Andrea gets a job working for William and soon lands on her back with her legs up, servicing him after hours. Things get interesting real quick as Andrea’s sister played by Taraji P. Henson and her husband, Ben (Tyler Perry) toss in their two-cents. As the drama brews, Charlotte and Alice embark on a cross country drive that had me wishing for a convertible VW Beetle to go cruising the Grand Canyons in to shake up my own life. Two life changing revelations and a slap that made my jaw drop made this one movie well worth the $9.00 ticket price.

Two lines in this movie have had my mind racing all night long. At one point William asks his mother if she trusts him. Her response. “It’s not you that I don’t trust, darlin’, it’s your private thoughts that give me pause!” The second line came from Alice as she pointed out a life lesson to her daughter. “Be careful how you treat people. You just might be entertaining an angel.”

Show my boy Tyler some serious love and just try to ignore the bad wig choice. Not everything can be perfect.

Monday, September 08, 2008


When you’re just minutes away from a deadline and you realize that you’ve completely botched the details of your storyline, it’s not pretty. In fact, it’s downright ugly, you get uglier and ugly starts raining down like a hurricane in severe weather mode. That’s where I’ve been for the past week. But ugly didn’t prevail and the fix came in the guise of a man whose calm, rational approach forced me to be calm and rational as well. Once that mess was cleaned up nice and pretty and the sun was shining and life was good again I found myself back in relationship mode.

I’m navigating this couple thing. I was operating under the assumption that I knew how to be one half of a couple. I mean, really, after 28 years with the same man you figure you’ve made enough mistakes to have learned some valuable lessons and with that experience you know what needs to be done. Right? How wrong I was!

Somewhere along the way someone changed the rules and I’m quickly discovering I don’t know how to play this dating game as well as I thought I could. I find myself seriously challenged. There’s timing to consider: how much time together is too much time? Not enough time? Then that prickly independence thing: How dependent should one be? Or not? And let’s not forget the compromising and sharing that needs to happen. My space or his?

Then of course there are the emotional bombs that are suddenly exploding when you least expect them. Jealousy has devastated some serious quality time. Frustration knocked us both on our collective butts a time or two. Toss in family and children and I’ll be damned if being a couple is suddenly a whole lot of hard work!

What I am discovering about my new relationship is that I want to work at it. I can’t fathom tossing in the towel and giving up. My very special friend inspires me to be better and do more and I like how that feels. He doesn’t give me any slack either. I’ve had to give up some bad relationship habits, forced to drop them cold turkey or else. I’m learning about myself and him and just how this couple’s thing should work versus how I might want it to work.

And, I am understanding much more about relationships as a whole. So in a nutshell, here’s my short list to navigate being the better half of any partnership:

You are each responsible for your own happiness.
You must respect the other’s differences.
Communication is KEY!
Every minute of the experience will be a learning experience.
The unarguable truth will never fail you.
Do nothing if it comes with an expectation of reciprocation.
Know how to forgive.
Know your own expectations.
Admit your mistakes and don’t hesitate to apologize.

I'm an expert at some of it. I'm working on the rest of it. I'm sure something else will need to be learned before all is said and done. Love is making it well worth the effort.

Friday, August 29, 2008


"America, we cannot turn back. Not with so much work to be done. Not with so many children to educate, and so many veterans to care for. Not with an economy to fix and cities to rebuild and farms to save. Not with so many families to protect and so many lives to mend. America, we cannot turn back. We cannot walk alone. At this moment, in this election, we must pledge once more to march into the future. Let us keep that promise - that American promise - and in the words of Scripture hold firmly, without wavering, to the hope that we confess."

Barack Obama's acceptance speech left me with a sense of civil responsibility and empowerment. A candidate who is genuinely interested in the well-being of Americans. How refreshing is that? If by some remote chance you missed his speech last night, then click HERE. It's well worth the effort.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


I imagine that the job of being the First Lady of the United States must be a bit daunting at first. It’s not like it comes with a clear cut job description. It does of course come with some exceptionally high expectations. When you consider that the First Lady must not only validate her husband’s character, but also her own, then it certainly makes sense that the journey to acceptance is not always easy.

Michelle Obama has become a very public figure and has accepted the role of aspiring First Lady with sheer grace. She has also accepted the uncomfortable scrutiny that comes with that responsibility. Since her husband announced his candidacy, she has taken some serious flack. I bet the conversation between the two to make that decision, as well as the subsequent conversations as the last few months have unfolded have been quite interesting.

For some time now she’s been hit by a wave of unflattering and sexist media portrayals. Critics have called Michelle everything from unpatriotic to cold. I’m certain some of the more disparaging remarks haven’t sat well with Michelle or Barack. They certainly haven’t sat well with me or many other black women who have been inspired by our sister’s strength and fortitude.

I was duly impressed with Michelle’s opening speech at the Democratic National Convention. She epitomized what many black women strive to be: strong, independent, and successful. She exemplified what a black woman with her own convictions can accomplish on her own if she sets her mind to it, independent of a spouse or partner. She also belied the stereotype that strong black women are also angry black women.

Michelle openly spoke of balancing a successful career with the responsibilities of raising two beautiful young daughters. I remember when Hillary Clinton was campaigning for her husband. The media ran with her comment about not sitting home and baking cookies. Having observed Michelle Obama these last few months I have no doubts that she’s home baking cookies with her babies as well as being a successful career woman and supportive helpmate to a man she loves and adores.

From the beginning Michelle committed herself to her husband and his dream but not at the expense of her marriage and her family. Nor has she been willing to compromise her principles or her beliefs. She stands independent of Barack while standing whole-heartedly by his side. She will undoubtedly be an admirable First Lady.

Friday, August 22, 2008


A good friend sent me this quote. It came at the right time. I pass it on hoping that it will move someone else the way it moved me. I pass it on as a reminder that there is always hope.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go. Things go wrong so that you can appreciate them when they’re right. You believe lies so that eventually you learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things falls apart so better things can fall together.
--Marilyn Monroe


It’s good sex. I mean really good sex! I’m not having it but my characters are. My third Stallion brother, the young, virile, 25-year old is rocking the sheets like there is no tomorrow. If y’all thought that brothers John (To Love A Stallion) and Mark (Tame A Wild Stallion) had it going on you haven’t read anything yet! Brother Luke has his girl changing religions and talking in tongue and all the while feeling like she is a queen sitting on top of the world.

When I first started writing romance, those sexual encounters were a challenge. Over the years I’ve learned to let myself go and in the process, let my characters go as well. The writing came much easier after that. So, brother Luke is having himself one heck of a good time. And Joanne Lake, the story’s heroine, is much enjoying the fruits of his labor.

And I'm so darn excited by it all that I just had to post and tell you!


Deanna’s memories don’t seem to be everyone else’s memories. And Deanna is now questioning if she’s the crazy one in her family. Deanna and her mother had a bitter argument. Her mother said some pretty hateful things. Deanna said some hateful things back. Their memories of Deanna’s childhood are two vastly different memories. Her mother claims it’s her daughter’s evil ways that twisted fact into fiction. Deanna understands the truth will destroy the illusion of the perfect parent that her mother fathoms herself to be.

Deanna doesn’t deny that she was loved. But she also accepts that she was not liked. Her mother didn’t like her. Her mother’s disregard began when her child was very young. Her mother’s issues took precedent over her daughter’s well-being. Deanna’s mother would claim to know everything about her daughter but their argument proved she didn’t know anything at all.

Deanna has chosen to walk away from the memories, and her mother, in order to keep herself whole. Their argument proved that her mother would rather see her child broken than risk being exposed. She was a good mother, her child the bad seed, and that’s the only truth mom wants told. Heaven forbid the secrets come out and bad mommy is exposed for the world to see.

Monday, August 18, 2008


I miss writing poetry. Thought I'd share a few old poems that were inspired by the artwork of a talented man by the name of Antonio Roberts. Antonio is out of Atlanta. He's a law enforcement officer by day and wild with a paintbrush at night.

For minimum wage
he'll work his fingers to the bone
to put a roof over his wife's head
and give his child a place to call home.
It's what he's willing to do
when love prevails for a woman
who says he is worthy of her soul and then some,
and a little girl wraps him around
her finger and he knows he is her first love,
and he sets the standards for all her future loves,
and a little boy calls him daddy,
while dreaming of one day walking in his shoes.
Minimum wage may not seem like much,
but then something is always better than nothing
when love prevails...

One day I turned away
And walked a path of my own making
I must sail sometimes against the wind
And anchor my burdens in harbors of hope
Heavy may be the footsteps that skip against the sand
Weighing down the clouds of expectation
And when I pass through the door that
Seemingly lead to no where
I will trust that grass
Does grow green on the other side
And bricks will mark the path that
Spins my destiny into the tide
And the path of my own making
Will land me in the port of heaven.

He doesn't sing just to make sound
Or write poetry only to have words to write down
There is more to his mind, his thinking complex
The issues involved are not from the text
He doesn't struggle just to lose
Nor shoulder his burdens to be made a fool
The defining spirit that cements his plans
Comes on the wisdom of men who ran
He doesn't hang his head just to rest
Or challenge his doubters as some sort of test
He strives to be the best he can be
To prove he has the right to be free
He does not ride on hopes and dreams
Or walk a path of make-believe
He will not yearn for what might be
But will hold steadfast to his reality
He doesn't build bridges just to lay bricks
Nor does he cut down trees for the logs and the sticks
He doesn't travel just to roam
He builds a house to have a home