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

Attached women do not like to see their single female friends unattached. For whatever reason it seems to throw off their scales of checks and balance. Since the ex-hubby and I parted ways every married friend that I have has come out of the woodworks to find me a man. I’ve been introduced to more potential prospects than I care to count, men raining down all over the place. Everyone I know has a friend who has a friend that I should meet. I have a male acquaintance who jokingly said that this has nothing to do with our girlfriend support network but more about the girlfriends being worried about some single honey in desperation mode coming after their man. Historically, meeting men has never been my problem, whether I was married or single. I have a great network of really close friends and most of them are male. I was never a woman who couldn’t find a date if I were so inclined or one was needed. Getting rid of a man has proven to be more of a challenge for me than attracting one h

I am in a serious look-but-do-not-touch kind of mood. It’s raining and although I should be thankful with drought conditions and that whole April showers – May flowers deal, I am instead so ready for sunny and hot that I could just scream. My father says this is good sleeping weather but I’m wanting to do something besides sleeping my time away. A really good friend called this past week to tell me about a man she thought would be just “perfect” for me. He’s educated, intelligent, established, and living just far enough out of the area that our seeing each other can be just as convenient, or as inconvenient, as either would want it to be. Apparently she’d already given him her sales spiel about me and he’d asked her to pass on his telephone number so that I might give him a call. He was in town at the moment and my friend thought it would be a good idea for us to connect over coffee. Since I was still reeling from my really good time with my really good new friend, I hesitated. I’ve ne

Okay, so like it’s been one week since my father decided to play Rambo and lost. By the good grace of God he is recovering very nicely and most of the family still doesn’t know anything at all happened to him. The criminal who shot him graduated from the school of stupid and stupider. The man pawned the stolen merchandise two days after the assault. He had to show a state-issued photo ID to do so. We’re now waiting for the police to pull the last of the evidence (fingerprint results) together to build a tight and solid case before they execute a warrant for the fool’s arrest. Until then we’re told that he’s being watched like a hawk. My crazy kin is finally acknowledging that she is indeed crazy. She’s decided to seek professional help. It seems that I am the source of all her consternation. She’s having delusions that I’m lurking around corners ready to pounce and attack her with a wooden stick. I make her unhappy and the happier it would seem that I am, the unhappier she professes to

Crime happens to other people. It isn’t supposed to touch those we know and love, and definitely not ourselves. When it does, you suddenly realize that none of us is immune and any of us can be a victim. Just hours ago my seventy-year old father was shot in a home invasion. He doesn’t live in a neighborhood that these things happen in. Some of the folks on his block still don’t even bother to lock their doors. But thieves entered the premises of his very affluent abode in the wee hours of the morning intent on stealing him blind. As the young criminal was attempting to lug away his loot, he didn’t expect to encounter the very large, very angry, black man that he did. And my father was angry. He was a man who’d worked hard his entire life to acquire the material possessions that he has. And through all of it, while waiting for a response to the 9-1-1 call my mother had made, all he could see was some career criminal was hauling away his stuff. Then anger made him turn stupid over some s

I love me some Stallion men! They’re each strong, solid, and sexy as hell. I know because I created them that way. My next book, TAME A WILD STALLION , is the story of the third oldest brother, Mark Stallion and Michelle “Mitch” Coleman. As the chief operating officer for Stallion Enterprises, Mark is an astute business negotiator, accustomed to doing some major league wheeling and dealing in the board room. But he’s much more comfortable in jeans and a sweatshirt than a business suit. With a penchant for fast cars and even faster women, Mark thrives on speed. A champion for relationships that start fast and end even faster, Mark’s not at all prepared for Michelle Coleman, the sharp-shooting mechanic who refuses to give him the time of day. Michelle “Mitch” Coleman walks on the wild side as readily as she breathes. A mechanic by profession, Mitch will readily get her hands dirty but cleans up nicely when the moment moves her. Mitch isn’t a woman who plays games and she doesn’t take kin

They are not friends. Neither is even sure they even remotely like the other. But their mother says they must love each other because that is what sisters are supposed to do. Supposed to do… Baby girl feels challenged by the large shadow her sibling has cast. She’s not much interested in the footsteps her sister has left for her to follow. The two women are like oil and water, mixing when family and friends shake them well, separating as quickly as they can once left to their own devices. Months can pass without the two women communicating with each other and then one conversation can turn the tide of times. A war of words ensued recently, one admonishing the other for forgetting the blood that binds them together. Blood was supposed to be thick enough to keep bad behavior from being called on the carpet. When water prevailed the two went at it no holds barred. Once words are put out into the universe they cannot be taken back. It was easy for one to ignore the text and tone

There’s a man in town who I’ve known for a few years now. He’s very good-looking, extremely intelligent, and single. I know that he is a divorced father of two adult daughters. I do not know why he is now single and unattached. We frequently bump into each other while running errands around town, our conversations typically very casual and very brief. Today was the exception. He and I ran into each other at the post office this morning. Standing together at the end of a very long line gave us much time to chat. I really like the dance that men and women sometimes do with each other. There is something about the hint of a smile, the warmth of unexpected laughter, and the flutter of a light touch when couples can sense the possibility of something more touching their lives. There is this magnetic energy in an innocent flirtation when you discern that such could make for the beginnings of something decadently sweet and wonderous. I like the rush of exhilaration folks get when embarking on