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

How cool is this! The cover for the anthology All I Want Is You is a finalist in the contemporary category of Cover Cafe's annual romance cover contest.  The anthology contains my story, Her Holiday Gifts , one of my favorite short stories of all time.  The cover contest will open for voting this Wednesday, May 2nd. Readers will be able to vote for two weeks, from May 2nd to May 16th and the contest organizers hope to announce the winners in early June. All I Want Is You is up against some stiff competition because there were some really great covers produced last year, but I think we'll have a winning chance if everyone VOTES HERE!! Thanks in advance for the support!!

This past week I was in Little Rock, Arkansas for the 2012 ROMANCE SLAM JAM.  Romance Slam Jam is the premiere writing conference for authors and fans of multi-cultural romance.  It was started by Miss Emma Rodgers, Miss Ashira Tosihwe and Miss Francis Ray in 1995, the trio wanting to acknowledge what author Nikki Giovanni described as “The Power, Passion and Pain of Black Love.”  Talk about a good time!  Not only was I able to meet icons whose works I've loved and admired for many years, but book fans and author friends who reminded me why I love writing what I write.  The event was informative, with workshops and author sessions galore.  I reconnected with some old pals and made a host of new friends.  I left with a whole other appreciation for what I do, how I do it, and those that are doing it with me. Historically, romance has been written by women, but with time and change, men are now able and willing to toss their collective hats into the mix and give readers l

I’m writing at the airport.   My flight from Little Rock, Arkansas to Dallas has been delayed due to the wave of storms bruising the country.   Airports are interesting places, a menagerie of personalities passing from point A to point B.   I watch families clinging to each other as they say goodbye.   And couples wrapped in deep embraces when one is returning from being gone.   Then there are always the kids, many an awe of their surroundings, holding tight to parental hands.   This morning there was a little guy in costume although I had no understanding of his pig nose, the batman pajama bottoms and doctor’s smock for a coat.   But he was happy with laughter and it made me smile. Many are consumed by their schedules or change in schedules on this particular day.   I understand the frenzy because when I travel I am obsessed with the timing of everything.   I must arrive early enough to not feel rushed.   Heaven forbid I have to run to a departure gate in the wrong cute t

They called him Jewel.   Lean and lanky with weathered hands and salt and pepper hair, he was neatly attired in his guest services uniform.   I had an issue that needed resolving.   I sought help from three persons on the hotel’s staff and each pointed me in Jewel’s direction.   I posed my question and he paused for a brief moment as he contemplated resolutions.   Then with a quick nod and a shy smile, he gestured with his index finger for me to follow him. It was a short two block ride through downtown Little Rock.   He shifted from rescuer to tour guide and historian, pointing out the architecture.   His Southern drawl was comfortable and easy, like flannel fabric on a cold night.   His laugh was contagious and abundant, something found when I had not even known it was missing. In our brief encounter I heard a story of land and service, of generosity and blessings.   My spirit was nourished and a weight of sadness was lifted from my shoulders.   I felt renewed.   Problem res

April 15, 1915 – April 2, 2012 Elizabeth Catlett, renowned sculptor and artist, whose depictions of social issues and the politics of gender, race and deprivation made her one of the 20th century’s most important artists, died on Monday at her home in Cuernavaca, Mexico.   She was 96-years old. In 2001 I had the honor of meeting Ms. Elizabeth Catlett at an art event here in North Carolina.   With a career that had spanned over five decades, she gave a lively presentation sprinkled with anecdotes and memories of the events that had inspired her work over the years, work that honored the strength and dignity of Black women. In the fall of 1932, fresh out of high school, Elizabeth Catlett showed up at the School of Fine and Applied Arts of the Carnegie Institute of Technology in Pittsburgh, having been awarded a prestigious full scholarship there. But she was turned away when it was discovered that she was “colored.”   She returned to her home in Washington to attend Howa