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

I’ve frequently been asked why I chose to write romance and not some other genre. The truth is I didn’t choose romance, romance chose me. I knew at a very young age that I wanted to write. I started scribbling poetry when I was in grade school to deal with some childhood traumas. In the seventh grade I had an incredible science teacher in a really horrible science class who saw something in me that I hadn’t yet seen in myself. One day after I’d spent months in her classroom scribbling stories and poetry in the margins of my science workbook she pulled me aside and told me I’d been blessed with an incredible gift. It was her words of encouragement and motivation that followed me through school and into adulthood. I am writing today because this teacher made me understand that I could. My first manuscript was not a romance. At least I didn’t think so. (Neither did die hard romance fans but that’s another story!) I was blessed though that an astute editor at BET Books liked what she read

Tara says that it is a blessing. She truly believes that if her parents had never taught them any other lesson, then she and her sisters should be grateful that they taught them about love. Donna, the oldest, doesn’t necessarily agree. The two of them and Angie, the middle child, sat cuddled in the room they’d grown up in. Together they were walking down memory lane, reflecting back on the cards that life had dealt to them. They’d laughed at the life lessons a loving mother and father had taught them, the lessons they were living as adults. It was Tara the youngest who first voiced her opinion and once said, neither Angie or Donna could deny the truth of the statement. “Love hard and love completely,” she’d said, “or don’t bother to love at all.” That’s when Angie broke down and cried. Donna didn’t have any more tears to cry with. Both women had learned that lesson well and had lived it daily. What their mother and father had never bothered to teach them was how to handle the hurt tha

I said this once before and after the South Carolina primary, I'm inspired to say it again. I want an American president. I don’t care about his race or his religion and I sure don’t give a flying fig about his sexual predilections as long what he does is done in the privacy of his bedroom with a consenting partner. But I do care that he cares about America and Americans. I want an American president who is concerned about American children and childcare and working parents. Who spends American money on America. I want an American president who will fight for my rights and your rights and not just the rights of corporate business and international entities. A president who will treat the poor as well as he will treat the wealthy. I want an American president whose presidential promises will be about feeding our hungry, helping our homeless, and protecting our elderly. I want an America president whose campaign promises will actually be kept. I want an American president who believe

My old friend Mr. Ben invited me over to sit in front of his fireplace with him. The smell of freshly backed cinnamon cookies and Ben Gay filled the warm air. The old man has slowed down considerably in the past few months but that twinkle is still shimmering brightly from his eyes. Mr. Ben’s mind has been wandering back to the past more and more lately. He seems to be drawn to another time and another place when things were good with him and his. We sat together and talked for a good little while as we watched that fire crackle in the most brilliant shades of red and orange. Miles Davis was playing softly in the background. Mr. Ben is a big fan of Miles Davis. Mr. Ben knows that I’ve recently had to go through some things. I took much delight in telling him that I could finally see the light at the end of that dark tunnel I’ve been traveling. And then he told me a story, reaching out to hold onto my hand as he did. Most know that Mr. Ben and I met working for the same employer many, m

They are only seventeen and eighteen and they’re so “in love” with the idea of being “in love” that neither can think straight. They’ve latched on to each other much like an infant latches on to a pacifier, both refusing to let go. Their love is that giddy high that has you believing everything imaginable is possible. Young love has no rules or boundaries. It is the best of everything with whipped cream and a cherry on top. I’ve watched these two reveling in the innocence and joy of each other and even as I peek into their grander moments I can’t help but think that I wouldn’t want that for myself ever again. Those of us who have been there before know that when you’re that age and “in love” that at some point in time, in a place where you least expect, the rules will kick into high gear and all that “young” love will be filled with the responsibilities of adulthood. There is something much more delightful about finding love after you’ve dealt with some serious life experiences. I thin

It’s expected that a man will obsess over his penis. I mean, it’s his penis. If he can’t obsess over it then who can? You don’t however expect to see any woman obsessing over a penis. But Miranda ( BLIND FOR SOME DICK ) is back at it again, allowing dick to get all up in the way of what she needs to be doing for herself and her children. Miranda’s in jail. Sister-girl got herself locked up behind bars because dick was more important than her babies. To add insult to injury the penis she was obsessing over wasn’t even attached to the husband the child had married. This dick was attached to some other fool who’s been telling her lie after lie about what he intends to do for her. When the authorities locked that cell door neither penis came to bail her blind butt out. I can’t fault the penis she’s married to for leaving her locked away and there are no words for the penis who had her so focused on him and his that she neglected the fact that babies #2 and #3 needed some mommy attention th

So much for the snow. They say we got a burst of it at 4:00 AM that dusted the ground. Unless you were the milk man making your morning deliveries, or working third shift and clocking out for the day you didn't get to see it. When the majority of us got up this morning it was raining. It's still raining. Hibernation is looking better and better. Can anyone say island retreat?

Some areas of the country have no true experience with snow. My small town here in the South is one such area. When I first moved here I was running as fast and as far from snow as I could possibly get. I absolutely hated the stuff. I hated the cold and the wet of it, and slipping and sliding my way to work wasn’t my idea of something fun to do. Every time the weather man predicted the onslaught of a Nor’easter, known for dumping heavy amounts of rain and snow with hurricane force winds, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and go into hibernation. Sleeping away the winter seemed far more appealing to me. My last winter in Connecticut we’d gotten hit with over four feet of wind-blown snow over a three day period. That was the first storm. If I recall correctly there seemed to be another two or three major accumulations after that. In the North, folks go on with business as usual. Delays are relatively short and folks go to work and school. Here, the entire town shuts down and people d

Lord, have mercy! Holidays and family have had me on my toes, ducking, dodging, and just having one heck of a time! Spent Christmas with family and friends and genuinely had a good time. One of the cousins was sulking because she had hoped to spend her holiday with her new beau. He however spent it with his baby’s mama completely oblivious to the fact that she had hoped they might spend that time together. I’ll just let you imagine the drama that ensued ‘cause that did not go over well with my girl at all. I had an opinion about the whole mess but since no one asked me I kept it to myself. But if it had been me…. The old people were in an uproar over some more family mess. Uncle This announced he was getting married. The man is well in his 70’s. The fiancée is barely 55. This wouldn’t have been a big deal if he hadn’t just buried his first wife right before Thanksgiving. The old women were fit to be tied that he’d gone out and bought the girlfriend an engagement ring before he’d bothe