Friday, September 30, 2011


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—and can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have such sweetness in his life all year…

Holiday Seduction Kayla Perrin

Mikki Harper isn’t looking forward to going home for her sister’s wedding—especially since she’s just been dumped. Then she runs into “Boring Barry” from high school and soon the two are catching up on old times—and Mikki discovers Barry is anything but boring. Mikki doesn’t expect to see him again, especially not at a dinner hosted by the groom’s family. It turns out Barry wants to relive their fling. But will Mikki run into his arms—or back to her ex, who’s suddenly had a change of heart?

Kayla Perrin is a USA Today and Essence® bestselling author who resides in Southwestern Ontario with her daughter. She has a bachelor of arts in English and Sociology and a bachelor of Education, having entertained the idea of becoming a teacher—but she always knew she wanted to be a writer. Kayla's novels have received plenty of accolades and awards. She has twice had books voted onto Romance Writers of America's Top Ten Favorite Books of the Year list, and has also been the recipient of a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times magazine. Her books have been profiled in Entertainment Weekly, Ebony, Essence, and Cosmo. Visit her online at

Wednesday, September 28, 2011


"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. 

Saturday, September 24, 2011


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 defensive and she can wallow in the hurt of that heartbreak.  She can be ugly and he can be ugly back.  In a romance novel, the hero would not be a hero if he wasn’t fighting tooth and nail to get his girl and keep her as close to his heart as possible. In real life, there might be no interest in the fight for a couple’s future together.  Real life is about the tears that get you to the laughter and sometimes, it’s about the tears that get you nowhere at all.
I need to be thinking about the pretty, polishing all the players until they’re perfect.  But with everything that can happen in real life I’m really not interested in writing another pretty story. 

Thursday, September 22, 2011


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 her husband had moved to her side, gently taking her hand into his. He met our collective gazes and mouthed an apology for the intrusion.

“Nancy, dear,” he said softly, “Come back to the table. Everyone wants to talk to you.”

For a brief second she looked confused, unsure of the man’s intentions and then her smile returned, recognition seeping into her eyes. She laughed softly, her head bobbing with excitement.

“Frank!” she said, clutching tightly to his fingers.

“Yes,” he said as he led her back to her seat. “Come with me, dear,” he intoned as he lifted her hands to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.

“Enjoy your dinner,” I said to the couple.

We all watched as they made their way back across the room. My friend and I smiled.

We were all learning.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


Today is the last day to VOTE for my 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’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 career. But I am still well out of my comfort zone and this experience has finally convinced me to hire a publicist to do that leg work for me. While reflecting, what I kept coming back to was my writing. All I wanted to do was write. And so, as you may have noticed, I did. I wrote what inspired me, three posts coming back to back. I wrote because it felt good to do so and because that is my strength. It’s what I’m great at. It’s what I absolutely love most.

I would still love that billboard and the opportunity to spread the word even farther about my writing, so I’m giving one final push for as many more VOTES as I can muster up. Today I’m beat-feeting it to the library, my favorite book stores, the hair salons and anywhere else I can think of to go beg for VOTES. It’s going to be a great day and until 11:59pm ET tonight, I hope that you will take one opportunity to VOTE for me. Thank you.

Click HERE or any of the VOTE links to VOTE one last time!


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 since his older siblings were all out of the house by his fifth birthday. Him, I commanded. Luckily, he followed willingly, motivated by the prospect of mixing elements in a bowl and hoping that they might explode.

By the time Baby Boy was ten he could run circles around me in the kitchen. At the age of thirteen he volunteered to cook for his grandparents for the first time, delighting them with a restaurant-quality shrimp and fettuccine alfredo. By then, I’d nicknamed him Chef Boy-U-Good. He had a talent for mixing flavors and colors so that the food not only looked pretty on a plate but tasted like a definite serving of more. I miss my Baby Boy’s cooking.

I cooked dinner earlier tonight. The things I think about while making cornbread from scratch.

Monday, September 19, 2011


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 essentially said, “I don’t think so! Find another profession if you plan to remain a child of mine!” But he didn’t say it quite that nicely. After that my Playboy Bunny ambitions were relegated to knockoff Halloween costumes at some very dodgy holiday parties.

For me, with 60’s era shows like Mad Men, and now The Playboy Club and Pan Am, there seems to be a resurgence of all things I consider classically feminine. I have always been enamored with those classic Grace Kelly/ Beverly Johnson/ Jacqueline Kennedy/ Talitha Getty stylings.  It brings to heart a bygone era that was last seen in old family photos of our mothers and grandmothers. Had I been old enough, (and I wasn’t, thank-you-very-much) it would have been an era I would have rocked like nobody’s business!

So I can’t wait to trip down memory lane wondering what might have been. It’ll be my guilty pleasure, along with the ten or twenty other fall shows premiering this week that I just can’t wait to see.


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 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 with a passion that exceeds all comprehension. I reserve sweating for mind-blowing sex and only mind-blowing sex. I have no desire to sweat at any other time and definitely not while I’m on a treadmill next to an adolescent half my age and a third my size. But I plunged head first into an exercise routine designed by the cutest little trainer who’s old enough to be my child and I did it with a smile. When all was said and done I left feeling accomplished and thankful that my baby boy had left me with his Zune player and playlists of some really great music.

Really great music just transforms my disposition. It transformed that hatred for exercise into a strong dislike.  And it got me through a really great sweat.  It wasn’t mind-blowing but it put that jiggle on some serious notice.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011


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, or wherever books are sold.

So, once again, please know how much I greatly appreciate everyone’s support. Thank you so much for voting! And thank you for passing the word to your family and friends asking them to VOTE as well.


Sunday, September 11, 2011


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.

Saturday, September 10, 2011


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.


Friday, September 09, 2011


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.

So again, thank you, thank you, thank you!

And again, would you please VOTE for me?

Wednesday, September 07, 2011


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 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?

Friday, September 02, 2011


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!!!!

Thursday, September 01, 2011


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 strangers about myself and my books. By card number 25 I’d hit my groove and was doing it like an old pro, easily asking folks to visit my website and to vote for me at

The first few times I couldn’t help but think about my mother and her admonishments when I was a little girl and we would go visit family and friends. “Don’t get in there and ask for anything,” she’d say, her index finger shaking inches from my nose. Or my personal favorite, “Act a fool if you want to and see if I don’t act a fool on your behind when we get home”. Asking for votes these first few times has felt like I was begging for a cookie when I knew it would not bode well back at home. But the more I thought about my mother, I couldn’t help but remember each time she loudly announces to anyone who’ll listen that I am her daughter the writer with eleven published books. My mother would have passed out cards, sold books and had people voting like their lives depended on it.

I am very much responsible for promoting my books because as a mid-list author, whether I have national, best-selling acclaim or not, there is no one else out here promoting me and my mother can't always be there. And, truth be told, before this I wasn’t doing but so much promotion. I’m really didn’t think that I was any good at that sort of thing. I would blush and get tongue tied and I can’t begin to tell you why but perhaps it has something to do with my extremely shy personality. Now I have friends who’ll raise an eyebrow at that statement, but I truly am very shy in certain situations. Not all of them, but most of them.

In the last few years my books have done very well but I imagine that they’d have done even better if I’d been out on the road promoting myself along with them. In the past I’ve avoided the writer’s conferences and it’s been a rare occasion where I’ve done book signings. But that too has to change. I understand that if I really want to expand my audience then I need to get out here and meet people one on one. Readers need to know that I’m really not as uptight or as annoying as I might seem. And I know I've been some sort of annoying the past few days. But probably not as much as I'll be until September 20th and I win me a billboard! I’m also quite funny when I don’t try to be and I can be pretty engaging when the moment moves me.

Writing is hard work and when all is said and done, promoting that writing experience is even harder. I’ve been wading through it all like one might dip their toes into a kiddy pool just to get wet. So now I’m pulling on my hip boots so I can walk thigh high in the midst of the Promo River. So, please, wish me luck as I go wading in the promotional waters. And as I get myself good and wet, please do VOTE! Thank you.