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

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

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 navi

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 cata

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 lik

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

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