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

Only four more days until the release of ALL I WANT IS YOU , a novella featuring two stories by me and my author-friend Kayla Perrin.  Kayla's tale was a sheer delight to read and my holiday story was an absolute hoot to write.  I am absolutely tickled that both offerings have already gotten great reviews.  As we slowly slip into the fall season and prepare for the holidays to come, slip ALL I WANT IS YOU into your must-read  pile.  You won't be disappointed.   Romance was the last thing on their minds—until the holidays brought these two women face to face with the men of their dreams… Her Holiday Gifts Deborah Fletcher Mello Commissioned to bake a towering cake for the Whitman Corporation’s CEO at their New Year’s extravaganza—Malisa Ivey is mortified when she gets trapped inside. Even worse, the cake is then transported—with Malisa inside—to Gabriel Whitman’s office. The sexy business tycoon is shocked when a beautiful woman pops out of his dessert

"It takes pain to be pretty....I hurt all the time!"  Dolvett Quince - Celebrity Trainer I hear ya' talkin', good lookin'.  And I'll be thinkin' of ya' in the morning as I master that elliptical machine.  Biggest Loser is some serious motivation!  And I post this for no reason other than I imagine my next male character will look just like my new friend Dolvett. 

I ’ve been trying to finish the proposal for a new book and it’s not coming together the way I need it to.   Publishers need their romances to be pretty.   Even the conflict needs to come with designer wrapping paper and a pretty bow tied so pristinely that it really doesn’t feel like conflict at all.   Publishers don’t like real life.   No discussion about finances and personal issues that might ring true.   The hero and heroine can have no flaws that can’t be easily buffed away to get to that happily-ever-after.   Both must be polished until they are picture perfect.   But real life never plays out like that.   A happily-ever-after can come with some serious bumps in the road.   In real life couples can get ugly with each other.   Things can be said that can’t be taken back.   The hero can tell his girl he wants her out of his house so he can have some space to fix some things.   In real life, if he tells his girl he no longer wants to be with her she can get angry and

On September 21, 2011 at 11:08 pm, Troy Anthony Davis saw the face of God for the very first time. Davis was executed by the state of Georgia for the 1989 slaying of Savannah police officer Mark MacPhail. Davis maintained his innocence until the very end. And despite the reasonable doubt that existed the courts repeatedly upheld his conviction. Hours earlier, at 6:21 pm, the state of Texas executed white supremacist gang leader Russell Lawrence Brewer for the brutal murder of James Byrd, Jr.  There was absolutely no doubt at all about Brewer’s guilt. If the bitter hatred that compelled Brewer and his friends to chain a man behind his pickup truck and drag him to his death, remained in Brewer’s heart at the time of his death, I can only imagine whose face he saw for the very first time.

Her name was Nancy. One might describe her as fragile, age having taken control over her petite frame. With her mane of snow white hair pulled into a neat bun and the pallor of her ivory complexion, she was delicate, like fine porcelain. Out of sync was the GPS tracker that circled her ankle like a bracelet. We were celebrating a beloved relative’s birthday when she casually strolled to our table and came to a stop. She had wandered from her family’s side, strolling through the restaurant to investigate the offerings on other people’s plates. She smiled sweetly, the gesture illuminating her face and brightening the moment. We smiled back in greeting. My dinner companion asked her how she was doing. The melodic tone of his deep voice drew her attention from the strawberry shortcake that sat table center. Her smile brightened even more as she nodded. “I’m learning,” she said, her voice barely a soft whisper. “Learning is good,” my friend replied. By then

Today is the last day to VOTE for my About.me  profile, ending my efforts to win a billboard in Times Square. Right now I’m in the top 5%, but I’ve been stuck there for the last two weeks, never seeming to be able to pull myself any higher. I think that’s About.me’s way of playing with my head. Yesterday I spent hours in reflection, wondering what else I could have done / could do, to promote Deborah Fletcher Mello and her books. I approached the process as if I were a client and I felt satisfied with all that I did do. I’ve been a one-woman promo machine pushing flyers about my books, meeting and talking with complete strangers, and forcing persuading acquaintances and friends to vote. I enlisted help from those I love most and they didn't fail me, stepping up in ways I couldn't have imagined.  I don’t remember campaigning this hard to be my high school senior class President. Admittedly, I have done more in the last month than I have ever done in my entire care

I was eight-years-old when my mother taught me how to make cornbread from scratch, baking it in a cast iron frying pan. Back then, everything my mother cooked was made from scratch and she demanded that I learn and learn early. I remember my mother’s delight when Jiffy cornbread-in-a-box hit the shelves, cutting down on her cornbread-making time, but once learned I have never had the itch to shortcut the mixing of finely ground yellow cornmeal, self-rising flour, that tablespoon of sugar and the butter and milk. I will probably always make cornbread from scratch and bake it in a cast iron pan. I didn’t demand that my older boys learn how to cook. Their wives would probably like me more if I had. And the one girl child of ours had about as much interest in the kitchen as the man in the moon. She was too busy chasing after her big brothers to care about anything "girlie" going on in our house. My youngest son, however, was not so lucky. He’s like an only child sin

It is premiere week and I am about to go on TV overload. The DVR will not be able to handle everything I am determined to watch and keep up with. The guilty pleasure I am most looking forward to though is NBC’s The Playboy Club which premieres tonight at 10:00 PM. Back in the day, (and it really isn’t important how far back), I secretly wanted to be a Playboy Bunny and not the naked kind in the centerfold of the magazine, but the kind who got to wear that cute, velvet/satin bunny outfit. Because my mind couldn’t connect being a bunny with waitressing, my goal was to be a dealer at the blackjack table at one of the Playboy Club casinos. Blackjack, poker, and cards I knew, thanks to my granny. And there was no way I was going to risk having food spill on my very cute, velvet/satin bunny suit. No one can say I didn’t have ambition! Ambition sunk like a rock though when I casually mentioned my intentions to my daddy. After staring at me like I’d lost my mind the man

So, I have a membership at this really great gym. It’s that one decorated all in purple and yellow that passes no judgment and just encourages members to come in and have fun. It’s been some time since I was last there. Over the last three weeks or so, my excuse has been that I had to be out and about promoting myself and hopefully encouraging people to VOTE for me at About.me to win a billboard in Times Square with my face on it. We won’t mention the other 365 days that I might have missed, thankful of course that when I do/did return, no judgment was passed especially since I’ve paid faithfully every month without complaint or refund for being a non-show. But this morning I was determined to get back to my exercise routine to tighten up some stuff that has started to jiggle and to tame the other stuff that’s determined not to fit into my favorite pair of denim jeans. Back in the gym though I was quickly reminded why I stopped going. I hate exercise. I hate it wi

There are only seven (7) days left for the ABOUT.ME  competition to get my face on a billboard in Times Square. And since friends, family, and fans can vote once per day, that’s seven votes each to support me and my writing. SEVEN!! Seven multiplied by however many more persons I can convince to support me may actually get me to my goal. I can only hope and pray. So once again I’m extending my reach even further to ask for support. (Thank you Troy from AALBC.COM !) I also realize that many of you may never have read anything I’ve written. All you know is some crazy woman has been bugging you insistently for the last two weeks. To remedy that I hope you’ll enjoy the first chapter of my latest release, Rested Waters, HERE . My writing is important to me. It speaks to who and I am and everything I strive to achieve. I’m a storyteller and if I can say so myself, I’m pretty damn good at it. So, if you enjoy the first chapter I hope you’ll consider buying it from HERE , HERE

September 11, 2001 was a turning point in our history. Believing ourselves untouchable we could not fathom the impossible happening and then it did, sending the country into a tailspin. But in the aftermath of tragedy, we demonstrated the very best of our selves. We exemplified our resilience, our giving natures, our dedicated spirits and we rose like the phoenix from the ashes, born anew, stronger, and better, from the experience. A decade has passed, and today, we pay tribute to the 2977 individuals who lost their lives. We also honor the countless heroes who gave tirelessly of themselves on that fateful day and in the weeks and months that followed. And today, we celebrate the very best of who we are as a nation, the world taking note that on this day, in our history, we still stand. PLEASE CLICK HERE TO VOTE FOR DEBORAH

Even in times of great sadness, there is no greater joy than to be surrounded by family. I was surrounded by family this weekend, a host of us gathering to celebrate the life of a beloved uncle who passed on earlier in the week. And despite the heartache and the tears, there was no denying the wealth of love that flowed abundantly with much laughter. We embraced the remembrances of times long since passed, that path of memories a welcome journey. We welcomed the prospect of bright futures in newborn babies and the pattering of little ones who had no understanding of what they had just lost. We rejoiced in our love for our Higher Power and bonded together in prayer. But even in our grief, there was hope, and promises of a better tomorrow and brighter futures. And it came on the wings of family and the greatest joy imaginable in our simply being together. PLEASE VOTE FOR ME!

I really have to take a quick moment to express my sincerest appreciation to everyone who has voted for me and to all of you who continue to faithfully vote for me every day. This entire process has been a challenge. Marketing myself has really taken me out of my comfort zone. Historically I’ve allowed my writing to speak for itself. My audience grew by word of mouth with little input from me if it wasn’t written on the pages between a cover. And every time I beg for votes I have to fight the feeling that I’m being a complete and total annoyance. I question how many times I can say please vote for me before everyone tires of hearing it. But I have to keep asking to reach my ultimate goal. And my goal is that billboard in Times Square. Because attaining that billboard means I’ve gotten myself noticed and if I get myself noticed then I get my books noticed and ultimately if I can steer people to my books and my writing, then I’ve reached my ultimate goal.

The things I find in the middle of the night when insomnia is in control. This was a little disturbing.  Even though the little cheese thing looks totally terrified, I couldn't stop myself from laughing.   Then I was singing at the top of my lungs.  (I believe in miracles...you sexy thing...) Okay, it's 3:00 AM and I am officially out of my mind.  Feels like a story coming.  Just as soon as I...and yes, I'm going to say it.....just as soon as I VOTE ! You really didn't expect me to be brilliant at 3:00 AM, did you?

It's FRIDAY!  And the cutest old man who resembles Barney Fife just killed  the Sugar Hill Gang's Rapper's Delight  at karaoke!!  The guy even had his dance moves on lock!   The polyester suit wasn't doing much for him though. They're having a party over here and I'm having a great time.  I can't wait to get my slide on!!  'Dem 'der lessons done started to pay off!!!  Step left/right/left/Slide up/Slide back/Dip down/Roll up/Spin it back/And do it all again! Enjoy the Labor Day weekend and if you happen to think about it, please VOTE  !!! Everyone's support now has me in the top 5% with 92 votes.  Wouldn't it be cool if I could triple that by Monday?  Might as well dream big if I'm going to dream at all, right?  So, thank you all.  I greatly appreciate the love!!  And I wish everyone a safe and happy Labor Day weekend!!!!

I don’t know from one day to the next what I may blog about. I may wax philosophically one day and ponder the dynamics of dryer lint the next. Then there are those days when I don’t write a darn thing, nothing sparking an ounce of motivation. Pursuing a billboard in Times Square has sparked much motivation. I’m so far outside of my comfort zone that I don’t know if I’m going to be able to find my way back once this is all done and finished. And that might not be a bad thing. Today, I passed out promotional material about myself and my books. I’d designed and ordered promo cards months ago and they’ve been sitting pretty on an end table waiting for attention. The few that actually made it into my purse had to be tossed, the edges so weathered that it was darn right embarrassing. But today, I pulled up my big girl panties, sucked in a deep breath, and passed out over a hundred of them. I pushed cards wherever I went. Doing so pushed me to engage in conversation with complete str