THE SCALES OF CHECKS AND BALANCES

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 has ever been. I’ve had ex’s to hang on like they were on life support and I was the one and only line to the oxygen tank. I’ve been stalked, chased, hounded and otherwise annoyed by members of the male species when I least expect it.

I’m not much of a casual dater either. Dating Johnny for dinner on Tuesday, Bobby for lunch on Wednesday, while dancing with Pedro Friday night just does not move me. It typically doesn’t take me long to size a brother up to determine whether or not we’re going to hit it off. After being married for as long as I was I’ve discovered that I’m truly a one-man, long-term relationship kind of gal. It either works or it doesn’t and if it doesn’t, I’m not wasting but so much of my time. I've been there, done that, and I ain’t doing it ever again! If it does work I have no problems dancing in the moment to see just how far it will last before the flavor runs out.

My best friends says I need to use the time I have to myself now to do some self-reflection, to get to know me and what I want. I tend to disagree. Self-reflection is hardly what I need. Deciding to end a marriage that consumed my entire adult life left me more than enough self-reflection time. I know more things about myself than I probably care to, the good and the bad. And if I know anything at all, I definitely know what I do and don’t want in a partner.

Balancing the scales has its moments but I don’t have any problems being alone with me, myself, and I, either. I appreciate the efforts my friends are putting forth but I’d be just as content if they didn’t think I’d be compatible with every Tom, Dick, and Harry with a job. Desperate is not the mode I'm in right now!

LOOK, BUT DON'T TOUCH!

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 never been a woman who could juggle more than one man at a time. Well, maybe I could / did back in my days of being young and stupid but I’ve matured since then. Or at least I’d like to think so! Anyway, after contemplating it just long enough to know that the man had left town and wouldn’t be back for a while I decided not to call. I did not, however, toss away his telephone number. Just in case.

My really good new friend took me to dinner again, and again we had a really great time together. The man has got me giddy as hell and I absolutely love how I feel when he and I spend time together. He makes me laugh, the conversation is always on point and I simply enjoy being in the company of a man who makes me feel oh-so special.

Frustration had me putting my foot in my mouth this weekend. I was having an issue with a friend. I should have walked away from it for a while to gather my thoughts, collect my emotions, and just regroup before he and I had a discussion about it. But I didn’t. Instead I went on the attack and was left feeling slightly foolish after the fact. The friend knows me well enough that he let me rant and rave and then told me he still loved me despite my drama queen antics. We still have an issue between us but I know that once I get past my PMS moment then he and I will resolve it and move on.

Right now though I still have some major attitude so look but do not touch if you know what’s good for you. I am just not in the mood.
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DRAMA QUEEN PRODUCTIONS!

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 be. I hope therapy helps. I’m not much interested in attacking her. We fought those battles as children. Nor do I plan to be unhappy so that she can feel warm and fuzzy about her own life. Personally, if that’s what she’s looking for then as far as I’m concerned her butt can just stay crazy.

Last week I had a date. It was a VERY nice date with a VERY, VERY nice man. Friday, he called and invited me to spend the evening with his family. An aunt and uncle were visiting his father from out of town. They and his siblings were a really good time and I can’t say I wanted to leave when it was time for me to go. When we parted ways we both promised to give each other a call. A friend said I should wait for him to call me to see if he was really interested. I said to hell with that. I’m interested in him and so I called on the pretext of saying thank you again for our good time. We’re doing lunch today AND dinner again tomorrow.

I told my friend she needs to forgo half her dating theories. If she likes a man, say so. If she wants to talk to him, call. This is a woman who dated a man for over a year professing that he was just a gentlemen when he never once made a move toward any type of intimacy. Not even a good night kiss that involved more than her right cheek. After year one, we were all having dinner one evening and I, point blank, asked him if he was gay. Lo and behold, he hadn’t been holding hands with her because he’d been holding hands with their buddy Chuck. It seems that she was a good cover for the proper and conservative Catholic church they both belonged to. Although they’d never discussed it, he thought she knew. She didn’t have a clue. I keep telling her that no matter the subject most men will answer if you ask. But when it comes to men a woman needs to speak her mind without the games if she is to have any sense of what she is or isn’t working with.

And with all of this going on I’m writing. And the writing is really, really good. The characters are engaging, the plots are on point and I’m really liking the drama queen productions that are coming out of my head.

STUPID FOR SOME STUFF

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 stuff. Mind you my father suffered a massive stroke just a few years ago and a series of minor strokes shortly after. He walked away with his life, but with full paralysis of his left arm and partial paralysis of his leg. Anger made him forget his physical limitations and stupidity put him directly into the line of gun fire.

The young thief wasn’t prepared for the man he encountered. I imagine my father slamming full force into him threw him for a real loop. But daddy was determined that no thug was going to take his stuff without him putting up one hell of a fight.

By the good grace of God, my father only suffered a minor flesh wound to the leg. Losing his balance, Daddy fell to the ground, pulling the assailant down with him just as the goon pulled his gun and fired. Daddy walked away from this having only lost a few power tools and a nick of flesh. His attacker got away with a few battle scars of his own to show for his crime.

I’m thankful that tomorrow my father can go to Home Depot to replace the stuff that was stolen instead of my mother and I at the funeral home buying a casket to replace a stolen life instead.

LOVE ME SOME STALLION MEN!

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 kindly to any man who does. Mitch does fast her own way and her way doesn’t include the smooth talking billionaire playboy who’s use to commanding what he wants. Not only won’t Michelle allow Mark to get around her track, but getting out of the starting gate proves to be a major challenge for the man who’s accustomed to playing by his own rules.

Together Mitch and Mark love as hard and as fast as they play. Between setting the race track on fire and smoldering in the bedroom, these two will keep you reaching for a tall glass of ice water and a fan. Thought you might like a little taste of what’s to come! Enjoy!

Excerpt from TAME A WILD STALLION:

Marcus Shepherd was extolling the virtues of Coleman and Son’s star mechanic as Simon made his way back into the room. “I swear there is no one better,” the man was saying, Mark Stallion eyeing him with reservation.

Mark looked down to the watch on his wrist. “Well, my brother Luke highly recommended him,” he said. “Figured now was as good a time as any to see what the man can do.”

The doctor grinned. “You’ve never met Mitch have you?”

“No. Why?”

The men holding up space in the room all laughed but before the physician could respond, Simon closed the heavy metal door harshly behind him. “Mitch be right here,” he said, breathing heavily as if he’d just run a mile long race. “Doc, you ready to write that check now?”

“We figure out what’s wrong with my car?” the man questioned, an eyebrow raising hopefully.

“Like I’ve told you time and time again, nothing,” a deep alto voice responded from the entranceway to the work area. “Not one blessed thing.”

Like the others, Mark turned in the direction of the doorway and the beguiling tone that drew their attention. The female before him cut a quick eye in his direction, catching his gaze and holding it ever so briefly before moving to stand behind the office counter. Mark’s gaze followed her, taking in the silhouette that defined her femininity beneath the clothing that did nothing to flatter her very female figure. His eyes widened curiously, his interest peeked as she scolded the doctor, one of his brother John’s many fraternity brothers.

“Don’t bring that car back in here, Doc. And I mean it. I swear if I see you or that vehicle again in the next three months I’m pulling the engine and you won’t be riding in it ever again. You got me?”

Marcus chuckled. “Yes, ma’am!”

Michelle handed the man an invoice, holding her hand out patiently as he wrote her a check for her services. When their transaction was complete, the good doctor waving his good-byes, she turned her attention to the man who’d been eyeing her curiously, looking him up and down. The brother was one good-looking specimen of manhood, Michelle thought, admiring Mark’s rugged good looks. The leather attire added to his bad boy appeal, the ensemble complementing his mahogany complexion, full lips and shoulder-length dread locks. But good looking men in Dallas were a dime a dozen, she mused, barely allowing herself to pause to admire the line of his chiseled features and haunting eyes. “How can I help you?” Michelle asked, her gaze meeting his evenly.

“You’re Mitch?” he asked, the surprise gleaning in his tone.

Michelle dropped a hand to her hip, shifting her weight. “You have a problem with that?”

Mark shrugged, a sly smile pulling at the line of his full lips. “No. Not at all. I just wasn’t expecting a girl.”

“You didn’t get a girl,” Michelle snapped, annoyance creeping into her voice. “I’m a grown woman and don’t you forget it. So what can we do for you, Mr...?”

“Stallion. Mark Stallion,” the man answered, only a touch flustered by her contentious tone. He composed himself quickly, a wide smile filling his dark face. “My brother Luke said you’d be able to look over my bike for me. I’m headed to South Carolina and I just wanted to make sure she’s road ready.”

Michelle lifted her eyebrows, her head bobbing up and down ever so slightly. Her disposition softened ever so slightly. “So, you’re one of Luke’s brothers. How is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

Mark shrugged. “He’s well. How do you two know each other?” he asked curiously.

Michelle smiled, her eyes shimmering beneath the room’s dim lights. She didn’t bother to answer his question as she made her way from behind the counter to his side. As she paused in front of him, the top of her head barely reaching his chin, the light fragrance of a floral perfume mixed with a hint of motor oil teased his nostrils. Mark took a deep inhale, filling his lungs with the scent of her. He suddenly felt drunk with longing, the woman’s imposing stare, commanding demeanor and gorgeous smile taking control of his senses. The feeling was unsettling, leaving Mark speechless.

“Roll your bike into the garage. The third bay. I’ll get you on the road in no time,” Michelle said, gesturing toward the work area.

Nodding his head, Mark moved toward the exit. Tossing a quick look back over his shoulder he couldn’t miss Michelle staring after him. He also didn’t miss the fact that she’d not bothered to respond to his question and now his curiosity was seriously peeked. He couldn’t wait to talk to his little brother to find out what was up with him and that woman.

SUPPOSED TO BE...

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 of their own message when stung by the text and tone of the response. When the drama escalated, neither was happy, and now, they are not friends and their mother says the're supposed to be.

Hmmmmm......

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 a new relationship that starts off at the right time, in the right place, with the perfect friend.

This man and I caught up on local gossip, whose child was doing what where, and how work was going or not. We just enjoyed a brief moment in time that was easy and comfortable. He made me laugh and a time or two I even found myself blushing. Then it was my turn at the counter and our moment was over. I wished him a good day and turned to conduct my business.

He finished his transaction before I had finished mine. As he reached the exit door, he paused, stopping to call out my name.

“Yes?”

"The next time we run into each other at the diner, breakfast is on me.”

Then he winked and waved goodbye, but not before adding to his comment. “By the way, I’m there every morning at eight.”

I couldn’t help but smile and so did Sam the postal clerk, a low “Hmmmmm” spilling out of his mouth.