Cheris Hodges's Blog, page 26

The real Pat McCrory is standing up

I moved to Charlotte in 1995, a freshman at Johnson C. Smith University. At that time, current North Carolina governor Pat McCrory was the mayor of Charlotte. Throughout the 1990s, the Duke Power employee was the "leader" of the Queen City.   (In case you were wondering how that law suit against the power company got settled so fast.)





Are you happy with your vote?

McCrory hated Raleigh -- so he said. He even led a convoy to the state capital in 2007, demanding that the General Assembly did more to fight crime. He told WSOC-TV:

McCrory says, "This is a citizens' grassroots effort to go to Raleigh to
say, ‘To hell with partisan politics. It's inexcusable to get in a
partisan fight over crime.'" He added, "This is not a political issue.
This is a life and death issue."

Fast forward to 2013, he is the partisan asshole politician that he allegedly couldn't stand. We're barely into the first year of King McCrory's reign and he's making South Carolina governor Nikki Haley look like a genius. That meas McCrory is a royal fuck up. And to think, Charlotte leaders had such high hopes for McCrory when he took office.

Now that former Charlotte mayor Pat McCrory is governor of North
Carolina, Queen City leaders react to what lies ahead. Several Charlotte
City Council members say they have high hopes for the new governor but
some wonder if he will hold his ground in Raleigh.

"Pat McCrory is the right man at the right time," said City Councilman Andy Dulin.

Charlotte leaders are not only confident he can do the job, but some also said this is a day the city can be proud of.

"Having
a former mayor of Charlotte serve as governor is an honor for our city
and says a lot about the leadership we bring to the state," Councilman
David Howard said in a statement Friday.

"May we all working
together be a beacon of hope and progress for our nation and of course
for our great state," said Gov. McCrory in his inauguration ceremony.

While City Councilman Michael Barnes says McCrory was moderate as mayor, he hopes that holds true as governor.

Moderate? Yeah, that went out the window with his attack on the poor, women and minorities. Pat Mac has repealed the racial justice act , cut unemployment benefits and took over Charlotte Douglas International Airport. Something he said would've never happened while he was mayor.



Yes, little girl, I'm going to ruin your life.



In 2008, the first time he ran for governor, not too many people outside of the Charlotte area knew who in the hell he was.

Obviously, Charlotte had no idea of the bigot who lurked inside the former Democrat. Yes. Pat Mac used to be a donkey. (Some might argue that he is still a jackass, but I digress.)

Bensalem resident Evelyn Hill admits that she doesn't know a whole lot about McCrory, but she's not voting for him.



"What little bit I know about him is that he's a moderate Republican,
and I won't vote for him ever," she says. "A moderate is just like a
Democrat. And when you can't tell the Saints from the Ain'ts, what's the
purpose of having two parties?"

Well, Ms. Hill, I'm sure Pat Mac 2.0 is meeting all of your conservative needs.

This is what kind of Governor he said he'd be in 2008:

"I have stepped on the toes of the far right and the far left," he says. "I anticipate doing the same thing as governor."



He says that the mass-transit and light-rail issues in Charlotte are examples of him doing what's best for the future.



"Many of the people in my party strongly disagreed with that, but I
felt it was the best long-term thing to do for our city and region. I
didn't waver, and I think in the long term we will find out that it's
the best decision; and we're finding out that it's the best decision in
the short term. And ... I've disagreed with the political left on many
issues, such as the death-penalty moratorium to the living wage to
certain tax increases. I do what I think is best and I'm not going to
try to appease every interest group."

 He lost to Bev Purdue. So, he came back cloaked in conservative Tea Party clothes and beat the hell out of Walter Dalton. Now, the state of North Carolina is suffering. It's enough to make you want to move to South Carolina. The New York Times was right, North Carolina is in decline.

The Only Option. . . Deatri King-Bey drops by with her new novel

Last week I received an email from a reader
who said she loved my latest title, The Only Option and wondered where I got
the idea from. I explained to the reader that an event usually occurs that
sparks an idea for the plot, but that didn’t happen with The Only Option. It
just came to me organically. I explained this on my blog also,
but now I really want to know where the idea came from.




I often say I have voices in my head, and if
I don’t write their stories, they will drive me crazy, so I put my psychosis to
work. But something has always happened that woke the voice up.  A triggering event. Yeah, I know I sound
crazy, but you’ll find many authors are a little touched in the head.




The best I could come up with was fifteen
years ago I had several friends whose marriages had been arranged. Back then I
had been fascinated by the topic so asked a gazillion questions. That must have
planted the seed. Then a few years ago, the opening of the novel popped into my
head. It played out in my mind like a movie on the big screen. That’s all I
had. I knew nothing more about the plot. Since I didn’t have a full novel in my
head, I carried on writing, but a few months ago, Jonah and Isis said, “It’s
our turn!”




Did I tell you I’m a little touched in the
head? LOL. So I began writing without knowing where the story would go. That’s
my story and I’m sticking with it.




The Only Option features
a new cast of characters I hope you all enjoy. Here’s the back cover blurb:

Sane
upwardly-mobile women don’t agree to enter into arranged marriages… Or do they?

Control freak Jonah
Tazi comes from a long line of arranged marriages, but the thought of his
parents picking his bride never sat well with him. Time is working against
Jonah, so he reluctantly agrees to allow his father to find him a proper bride.
Then he meets Isis and becomes infatuated with the vibrant, funny, and talented
woman. A powerful man used to getting exactly what he wants, exactly when he
wants it, he is unprepared when Isis doesn’t agree to his proposal immediately.
Now he is determined to convince her (and everyone else) that he and Isis
belong together. Jonah intends to be her only option.

Isis Michaels has
always been sheltered by her father. The tables have turned, and now she must
shelter him. Isis rearranges her life and will do whatever it takes to please
her father during the time he has left—almost anything. It becomes clear that
he wants to see her settled before he passes. Is marrying Jonah, a man she’s
emotionally and physically attracted to but just met, her only option?

Here’s the portion
that was in my mind all of those years.




                                                               Chapter
One




“Dad,
you’re not choosing my wife.” Adjusting his earpiece, Jonah exited the
elevator. Fifteen minutes early for an acquisition meeting, he considered
himself late.



“You’re a lot closer to forty than thirty. People are starting to talk.”



“I don’t care.” Artwork lined either side of the hallway. The priceless
collection had taken Jonah years to build and there were more pieces to
acquire.



“Well, I do. Three years. Three years ago you promised to dedicate time to
finding a wife.”



“I’ve been busy running a multibillion-dollar corporation.”



“I was just as busy as my father and his father before him. We’ve always had
arranged marriages. That didn’t change when my father moved to this country. He
did an excellent job of choosing my wife.”



“You’re divorced.” Jonah’s grandfather had moved his wife from Morocco to the
United States shortly after their marriage. The majority of the family remained
in Morocco and Spain along with many of their traditions. Jonah’s selection of
a wife went beyond tradition. As the only son, Jonah believed it was his duty
to produce at least one heir to carry on the Tazi name. Time had slipped by too
quickly for him to find a wife. A control freak, he hated the idea of his
father choosing his wife, but he didn’t see an alternative.



Attracted to the maturity of women his own age, if he waited much longer, the
type of woman Jonah wanted wouldn’t be of childbearing age. “Fine, I’ll get
married. I take it you have suitable options in mind?”



“Of course I do. I’ll have your assistant set up the meetings.”



“Speaking of meetings, I have one in thirteen minutes. We can talk later.”
Jonah disconnected and continued along the hallway. Originally, he’d tried to
acquire D. M. Solutions two years ago, but the owner wouldn’t consider his
offer.



He rounded the corner, then stopped in his tracks. Few people had access to his
private floor, so seeing a woman standing dangerously close to his Auguste
Rodin sculpture shocked him. What drew him even more than her presence were her
legs. Quite tall himself, he rarely met a woman who reached his shoulders. He’d
give his Rembrandt to have her legs wrapped around him as he pushed into her.



Soon he’d be selecting a wife and other women would be off-limits. Currently a
free man, Jonah had no intention of allowing the long-legged lovely to pass him
by.




I hope you give The Only Option a chance. It’s
available in Print, Kindle, and Nook/ePub (via Barnes & Noble) formats.

Thanks for the continued support everyone. I
hope you enjoy Isis and Jonah’s story.  And please help spread the word.

You can find me online at: http://www.DeatriKingBey.com,  https://www.facebook.com/deatri, http://www.Twitter.com/DeatriKingBey my dangerously-sexy suspense is written as L.
L. Reaper http://www.LLReaper.com




Cheris, thank you so for the continued support. I
appreciate all you do.

Insignificant Others. . .significantly sexy

What happens when you pair two of the hottest voices in erotica? You get






Insatiable Press's Insignificant Others. 





Pynk and Carol Taylor bring back some of their popular characters in two sexy novellas. 




 Pynk takes readers to Miami in Erotic City: Miami. 



It’s 2012 and what happened in 2008 at the controversial Erotic City
swingers club in Atlanta is a distant memory. Now, with a second club
located in Miami, Milan Kennedy and her heavyweight boxer husband,
Lavender Lewis, have moved to Miami to raise his son. Lavender’s loony
baby’s mama is serving time in prison for the attempted murder of Milan.
For now all seems quiet, that is until Milan and Lavender are served
child custody papers, and also, a test of fidelity arises just as the
couple plans to add to their family, and expand their thriving business.
Milan questions the very meaning of the lifestyle itself, and doubts
the purpose of her own career as a swingers club owner, providing
significant others a playground for fornication. Big Booty Trudy, Tamiko
Kennedy, Jarod Hamilton, and Nancy Clark Kennedy all return, and a
couple of freaky additions are added to the mix. The newest location,
Erotic City: Miami, is a huge success, but at what cost? Will the
wife-swapping lifestyle change Milan and Lavender forever, or will they
survive the very temptations that their own sex business brings?



Carol Taylor revisits the complicated lives of four women who are looking for Mr. Right in the Big Apple.










The Ex Chronicles: Plan B --Funny,
erotic, sexy, and insightful, The Ex Chronicles: Plan B reveals
the darker side of desire, when four women must overcome their lust or be
trapped by it. Bourgie Hope, the editorial director of Shades magazine,
fell in love with Derrick, a single dad from the projects, while at her
wits end caring for her sick mother and handling her own high-powered career.
Derrick proposed to Hope and she was ecstatic. But she’s now wondering if
it's too much too soon, especially when she meets the sexy and seductive Max.
Precious, a Shades editor, left her fiancé Darius after
finding him in bed with another woman. She’s now back with him; hoping that
this time he really will change. Bella, the overindulged wild child of
rich parents, burned out, not only drugs and alcohol but also on her enabling
ex Julius, and went into rehab. Now her parents are threatening to cut her off
if she doesn’t get a job, something she’s never had to do. Half-Jamaican,
half-British Zenobia sacrificed a successful modeling career for her ex
Malcolm, but his constant cheating made it impossible for her to stay with him.
Now she’s with David, but Malcolm wants her back. As we follow these best
friends from New York, to London, and Amsterdam, they must cope with not only
their careers and their past, but also their cheating exes and the love they
still have for them. They each need a Plan B.
 



Get your ice tea, cold wine and fans ready as you read these hot novellas. From steamy love scenes to exquisite story telling, you won't be disappointed by these tales.





Enter to win a copy of this hot e-book! Comment below and leave your email address!

Yeah, remember what I said about Lolo Jones. . .

I felt bad for Lolo Jones.

We mocked her. Even her teammates got pissy about the attention that Lolo received --even though it was negative attention.

Now, I don't feel anything but disgust. Over the last few days, I've been off social media for extended periods of time because of the vile things people are saying about the Trayvon Martin trial and Rachel Jeantel.  

She is the young lady who heard Trayvon Martin die. Ignorance on social media about this young lady is heartbreaking. And Jones, who was mocked because she failed to win a medal in the Olympics, joined in. Comparing Jeantel to Tyler Perry's Madea.



Not funny Lolo. You whined and cried about the negative attention you received last year, but you're quick to mock a young lady who has to relive some real trauma?  Please have an Olympic stadium of seats. Please sit down and shut the f*** up.

Lolo Jones        ✔

@lolojones

Rachel Jeantel looked so irritated during
the cross-examination that I burned it on DVD and I'm going to sell it
as Madea goes to court.









4:49 PM - 27 Jun 2013

dream hampton

@dreamhampton








How classless of you to mock a young girl who's experienced trauma your privileged ass will never know @lolojones

 Boom! Dream Hampton shut Lolo down.

I applaud Rachel Jeantal for having the courage to take the stand and tell the truth. I hope she ignores ilk like Lolo and the other ignorant assholes hiding behind Facebook and Twitter to make fun of her when many of them have never had to listen to the death of a friend.



It's time to remember what your mama should have taught you, if you don't have anything nice to say, shut your pie hole. Looking and pointing at Lolo Jones and many others.

Waiting For The Other Shoe to Drop: The end. . .For Now

Now, your
girl is not a drinker so one bottle of wine knocked me out. Knocked me out to
the point that I overslept and was three hours late for work the next day. And
I picked the wrong day to show up late with a hangover. Deanna
looked at me and shook head when I walked in the office with a wrinkled shirt
and a pair of khakis on. “Bad look, Mimi,” she whispered then pulled me into
the vacant conference room. “What?” I
asked. “Sonia just
quit. And I mean she went out of here like Angela Bassett in Waiting To Exhale.
It would’ve been beautiful, but the City Manager wants to meet with us in about
six minutes to determine what’s going to happen with the staff.”
“Well, isn’t this
just the rotten cherry on top of a shitty sundae,” I muttered.
“Are you still drunk?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“I smell wine.”
I sniffed my shirt. Damn, I guess I’d spilled some wine on my laundry. But I still wasn’t
drunk. Didn’t matter, if today was my last day then so be it. I had an idea anyway. If Steve Harvey could
make millions telling women how to think like a man – in other words aim low –
then I was going to put my research skills to use. I was going to get to the
bottom of the age old question – why did they all cheat on Mimi. Maybe if I made
peace with my past, I could stop fucking up my future. I was ready to begin my
adventure. After all, I had both shoes on the ground now.

Waiting for The Other Shoe to Drop: Part 35

Driving
home, I cried a river of tears as I replayed David’s so called apology. I
almost missed the entrance to my building because my tears clouded my vision. I
know I’d been sitting in the parking lot for a half an hour before I pulled
myself out of the car. And I didn’t give a damn that it was dark outside, I
covered my red rimmed eyes with a pair of sunglasses. I couldn’t remember the
last time I’d spent the night at home. That last time that I’d fallen asleep
without his arms around me.

Then I
wondered, when was the last time he fell asleep holding her. That motherfucker
made me believe in love and crushed my hopes like a half smoked Newport.

If I wasn’t
afraid of jail or a random drug test, I would’ve found some smoke of my own.
But I wasn’t that girl and I was not going to let him do this to me. What did
men get out of playing these games? There was something that I needed to know
and the answers were in the heartbreaks of the past. Maybe I did something to
every man I’d ever loved or lusted after that made me feel this way at the end
of the slow dance.

“It’s all
good,” I muttered as I unlocked my front door. “I’m not even going to trip.”

Heading
for the refrigerator, I grabbed the bottle of Duplin wine that I had bought for
a special occasion. Then I remembered why it had been in there so long, I didn’t
have a cork screw. Damn! Oh well, a steak knife would have to do because I
needed this alcohol. I wanted to drink this wine and pretend that tonight was
the result of a hangover. Pretend that I didn’t know who the fuck David was and
. . . wait.  He hadn’t even called.

He
seriously didn’t give a shit. I stabbed that tan cork and managed to push it
down into the wine. Great! This bottle of wine was just as fucked up as my love
life. Oh well, bottoms up.



Now, your
girl is not a drinker so one bottle of wine knocked me out. Knocked me out to
the point that I overslept and was three hours late for work the next day. And
I picked the wrong day to show up late with a hangover. 

When Authors behave badly on the Internet

Ten years ago this month, my first romance novel, Revelations, was released. I thought everyone would love it. Would send it to the top of the New York Times best seller's list. 

That didn't happen. Everyone didn't love it. I didn't get glowing five star reviews on Amazon and you know what -- I was OK with that. Before I started writing novels, I had been a full time journalist. And this was before the online comments, back when disgruntled readers would call you or email you. Their comments ranged from -- you don't know what you're talking about to you're stupid. 

A thick skin was developed pretty quickly.




Here's what you need to know as an author -- everyone isn't going to like what you write. Even if you love it, every reader who picks up your book or downloads your ebook, is not going to like it. If someone reviews your book and it's not a five star review (I don't believe in saying positive or negative reviews because we can learn from everything someone tells us) don't argue with them. 






This. Makes. You. Look. Like. An. Amateur. 

This. Stunts. Your. Sales. 




Think about, the best of the best don't argue with people about their opinions about their books. 




I read reviews, but I don't respond to them. You know why? I believe if your respond to the glowing five star reviews, you have to acknowledge the dim one star reviews. I appreciate both -- but if I spent all of my time online fussing with people about their opinion, when would I have time to work on my craft and finish my books? 




It's wasted energy to argue with someone who doesn't like your book. The only thing that will accomplish is that the reader(s) will not like you either. 




Some examples of what not to do (names will be withheld): 


WOW.. I am the author of********** and although I cannot please every reader I know for a fact that this book is a GREAT book that I put my all into. Now being that you said you're not a fan of urban tales I think you should read the descriptions and or before you purchase a book that is in the URBAN fiction category you should download the sample to see if it something you would enjoy reading! Thank you for taking a chance on my book, but I'm an artist and I'm sensitive about my craft!!
******** issued a blog entitled "Dear Negative Reader" where she addressed a growing number of readers on the Internet that was expressing disappointment in the series's changes. In the blog ******told the readers that "life is too short to read books you don’t like" and that if they found that the current subject matter pushed "you past that comfortable envelope of the mundane" then "stop reading" and speculated that some of the readers were either "closet readers" or comment based on others' opinions. The blog entry was negatively received by some readers.
I am think you skimmed the book, sitting in an auto place, worry about big bad men sniggering, and didn’t bother to see why the characters did things, just took surface reactions. You are keying into ******POV, which at many times is not accurate to what was really happening.

Charlotte Stein wrote it best in the post: Authors Behaving Badly:

Here’s a sample of some responses you should never give to a bad review:

“Dear Mr Reviewer, I’m sooooo glaaaaaaaad you hated my book. And your review was just great! In case you can’t tell, I’m being sarcastic. You STINK. You are a senile, buck-toothed old mummy with bony girl arms, and you smell like an elephant’s butt! Not sincerely, BB Author.”*

But the one above? Yeah, it’s obviously a terrible response to a reviewer. Absolutely terrible! I mean, the author has called the reviewer an elephant’s butt! You can’t get much worse than that. Even the silliest of authors would know that’s a bad, bad response. 

Waiting For The Other Shoe to Drop: Part 34

When I
made it to David’s place, I was overwrought. Looking over my shoulder every
time I heard a noise, felt a breeze or just felt as if something was lurking in
the shadows. I jumped, ready to pounce. Taking the elevator up to David’s, I
wondered what had I done to deserve this bullshit? Not to whine and pretend
that I’m Miss Innocent. But Karma – haven’t I suffered enough?

Before I
could knock on the door, David opened it. Normally, I would’ve hugged and
kissed my man. Something was different and I didn’t want my lips anywhere on
him.

“What’s
going on, Mimi?”

I threw
the note under his nose. “How about you tell me? What’s going on with you and
this bitch, David?”

“Nothing,
not now anyway.”

“Not.
Now. Anyway?! The fuck does that mean?”

“You need
to calm down,” he said and looked at me as if I were a stranger. As if I was
the one who had let another man fuck me and stalk him. He was the motherfucking
stranger. He was the one who made me an unwilling participant in a ménage a
trois. And I needed to calm down?

“Calm down? Tell me this, if the shoe was on the other foot and you were
getting notes on your car – what would you do?”

“Mimi. .
.”

“Answer
the damned question,” I boomed. “This shit, right here, the lying, the
stalking, the hoes in hiding, I don’t do this very well and I’m not doing this
with you.”

This motherfucker
shrugged. You know the kind of shrug you get when you as –French fries or onion
ring. Oh. Hell. No! I stopped moving, breathing and for a second my heart
stopped. “Fine.” I started for the door. I wasn’t going to give him a chance to
see the tears of disappointment and anger that welled up in my eyes.

“Wait,”
he said. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

I whirled
around, my cheek flaming with white hot hate. “Try the truth. Want me to define
that for you because you seem to be having a problem with it.”

“You and
me, I never expected this. Never knew I was going to come back home to find you
. . .”

“Then the
note is true? You came back for that bitch? Was I a speed bump, David?”

“No, not
at all. Just damn. I fucked up, OK.”

My mind
screamed, it’s not OK. The tears fell, I couldn’t hold them back and I couldn’t
hide my pain from him. I felt like one of those spaghetti spine heroine in an eighties Lifetime movie. Get it
together, Mimi! “That’s all you got?”

“What
else do you want? I’m sorry, I can’t change the past. I was selfish and
ungrateful.”

“You know
what you are?” Even I was surprised by the calmness in my voice. “You’re a
snake ass bastard. You made me believe in you because you said I don’t lie. You
said you had nothing to hide and I believed you.”

“Mimi, I didn’t mean  . . .”

“To GET
CAUGHT! You didn’t mean for your porky jump off to stalk me. And you surely
didn’t mean for me to find out that I was fucking community dick.”

My mama
always told me to keep my hands to myself and in that moment, I wished that
lesson hadn’t stuck. I wanted nothing more than to pick up David’s lamp and
bash his face in. Selfish. Ungrateful. Bastard.

“I ain’t
shit,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I needed
him to stop talking. I couldn’t listen to any more excuses. You don’t accidentally
hurt people. It’s a choice. He made his choice and I was making mine. I was
going to walk away. Storming out of the front door, it became clear to me that
I’m a girl who should walk alone with a pocket full of rechargeable batteries. If
I do a relationship wrong, I end up alone. If I do a relationship right, I end
up alone.



I could’ve
forgiven David and tried to rebuild the trust. Walking out on him had been the
hardest decision I could make, but what choice did I have? This drama was for
the fucking birds. But if that bitch touched my car again, I’d shoot her hefty
ass.

First Look: Love After War, coming November, 2013

Love After War is coming in November. The story of Adrian Bryant and Dana Singleton is one of my favorite love stories that I've ever written.




When club owner Adrian Bryant
discovers his biological father is hotel magnate Elliot Crawford, his life
unravels. Shunned by Crawford while he and his mother struggled, Adrian hatches
a high-profile plan to destroy the Crawford name—and the reputations of his two
half-brothers. But
to shield the woman he loves from the hell he intends to unleash, Adrian has to
let her go.






Photographer
Dana Singleton is heartbroken and confused by Adrian’s
behavior. But just when she’s
given up on their relationship, she begins to discover the truth—and
a dark side of Adrian she never knew existed. As the stakes get higher, she will
have to ask herself if she can love a man who is capable of such vengeance—or
if he can learn to forgive...










Now allow me to pull back the cover and give you a sneak peek inside: 




Chapter One




The last thing Dana Singleton ever
wanted was to find herself alone with the man who’d broken her heart two years
ago. She’d put three thousand miles between them twenty-four months ago only to
find that the moment she returned to Los Angeles, she was trapped with him in
the middle of a brownout.

Adrian Bryant.

 God, she thought, why do you hate me?

            “This
is insane,” Adrian said, then looked over at Dana. And a slow smile spread
across his face when he recognized her. “Long time no see.” When he reached out
to embrace her, Dana pushed back.

            “Don’t
you dare touch me,” she said. “How dare you even look at me or expect me to be
thrilled to see you?”

            “Don’t
act like that,” he said, offering her a sizzling smile. In the near darkness of
the coffee shop, his smile damn near lit up the place.

            “Act
like what? Like I can’t stand to be in the same room with you? Trust and
believe, it is not an act,” she snapped. Oh, she hated him and the way he still
made her heart flutter with a powerful yearning to fall into those strong arms
and press her mouth against his while he slowly kissed her until her body
melted against his. Looking away from him, she forced herself to remember being
dumped by text message. It’s for the
best. I’m moving on and you should do the same, the message had read. She
closed her eyes and rubbed
her temples. That
night replayed in her mind like a bad movie in a broken DVD player. She’d felt
stupid, confused, and disappointed. But she had taken the hint and left. If
only she’d told Imani and Universal Studios no. Then she’d still be in New York
and not running into Adrian on his home turf, Los Angeles.

 She expelled a frustrated sigh because when
she opened her eyes, he was still there. Still staring at her with that
spectacular smile on his face.

            “Dana,
I know I owe you a huge apology and an explanation as to why—”

            “You
don’t owe me a damned thing, and I definitely don’t want to hear any apology
you took two years to come up with.”

            Adrian
stared at her, soaking up Dana’s unique beauty. The long dreadlocks were new
and very sexy. She had caramel-colored skin that made him salivate as he
thought about all the places he used to lick and how sweet she tasted between
her thighs. Letting her go had been the worst thing he’d ever had to do. But it
was necessary. He only wished he could come clean with her now. But his mission
wasn’t complete and the last thing he wanted was to get her caught up in his
plan.

            Dana
snapped her fingers in Adrian’s face. “Thinking of a pretty lie to tell me?”

            “Can
we talk about it over a cup of coffee?” he asked, smiling at her and making
Dana snarl in response.

            “You
know what, Adrian? I’ve grown up since the last time I saw you. Decided that I
deserve someone who knows how to treat me and that isn’t you. So, hell no. I
don’t want to talk to you over coffee. I don’t want to talk to you period.”

            “I
was trying to protect you, Dana,” he said, his voice low, a sexy growl that
made her body twitch. The same voice that he used to whisper sweet promises in
her ear. Turning her back to him, Dana tried to pretend she wasn’t affected. As long as he doesn’t touch me, I’ll be
fine, she thought. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he
said. “Sorry for what I did and the way things looked. But it was for the
best.”

            “It
was. And when the power comes back on, we can pretend you’re still gone.”

            Adrian
spun her around, drinking in her delicate features. Though her eyes flashed
anger and resentment, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
The love of his life. The only thing not touched by his need for revenge. What
could he say to her to explain what his life had become?

“What?” she snapped,
locking eyes with him.

            He
knew the right thing to do when it came to Dana was to leave her alone, to walk
away and continue his quest. But at that moment, in the silence of the darkened
coffee shop, all he wanted was a sweet taste of his past. A kiss from Dana. He
leaned in, pressing his lips against hers. He felt her heat, passion, and want.
When her lips parted and his tongue slipped inside, her sweetness nearly
brought him to his knees. Closer. He had to be closer to her, and he wrapped
her in his arms as if he were a blanket. She didn’t resist him, didn’t push him
away. Instead, she kissed him back as if no time had passed since their lips
last touched. She made him feel as if her mouth had been waiting for his. That
couldn’t be the case . . . could it?

            Dana’s
brain clicked and she realized she wasn’t dreaming about kissing Adrian; she was kissing him. Relishing in the touch
of his tongue against her lips and savoring the hint of mint that his mouth
always held. She wasn’t imagining that his fingers were gliding up and down her
spine; it was actually happening. The man she loved. The man who’d broken her
heart with a text message. Kiss over. She pulled back, snatched away from him,
and angrily eyed him. “What in the hell is wrong with you?” Dana demanded.

            “Me?
I didn’t kiss myself and from what I felt, you’re happy to see me.”

            “You
cocky son of a—”

            “I
know I am. Glad you agree,” he quipped.

            “This
may be a game to you—one kiss and I’m supposed to bend to your will and let you
back between my thighs because you think you belong there? Go to hell, Adrian.”

            Between her thighs . . . was that
supposed to push him away? That was his place and he would reclaim it, just as
soon as he put his father where he belonged. “Dana, Dana, Dana, you wanted that
kiss, needed it just as much as I did, if for nothing more than closure.”

             “How about you close your mouth?” Dana
snapped. Before she could say another word, the power popped on and Dana bolted
out of Starbucks and away from Adrian. But the memory of that kiss haunted her
and reminded her of hot LA nights on the beach when they were in love. When
things between them had been easy and sunny, bright and filled with the promise
of a future filled with love. A future that Dana thought would mean her as a
fashion photographer and the wife of Adrian Bryant. The latter dream ended with
a text message. Still, she wanted to know why and what changed his mind. She
knew his mother’s death changed him, but the coldness she’d seen on his face
the day of the funeral and later at his penthouse kept her awake at night. Was
someone to blame for Mrs. Bryant’s death?

            Did
Adrian believe he’d done something to cause his mother’s death? She’d wrestled
with these questions for two years, and the moment she’d resolved to forget
about him, there he was. Sexier and more mysterious than ever. But not this
time. She was not, in no way, shape, or form, going to allow him to suck her
into his atmosphere again. Not when she was about to embark on her biggest and
most exciting assignment of her career—shooting publicity shots for one of the
biggest film studios in America. Sure part of the reason why she’d gotten the
gig had been because of her best friend and current Hollywood it girl, Imani
Thomas, but the fact of the matter was, Dana’s career was on the uptick and
Adrian Bryant could go to hell, twice. She had her closure, even if the taste
of his kiss burned in her mouth.

Paula Deen, chile please!

Sixty-six year old Paula Deen was a culinary hero to a lot of people.

I was not one of them.

There was always something about the buttery cake queen that I didn't like. I couldn't quite put my finger on it -- then her deposition was released.



There it is!



Paula says she used the N-word because she just doesn't know what offends people. News flash, Paula, the n-word is offensive. Now her old ass senile behind wants everyone to forgive her because she's an elderly Southern lady.



I call BULL!

And basically,
she's hoping that her age and her southern heritage will make her fans
pretend that all this never happened. Here's a statement released
Thursday from her legal team, via ABC: 

“During a deposition where she swore to tell the truth, Ms. Deen
recounted having used a racial epithet in the past, speaking largely
about a time in American history which was quite different than
today...She was born 60 years ago when America’s South had schools that
were segregated, different bathrooms, different restaurants and
Americans rode in different parts of the bus. This is not today...To
be clear Ms. Deen does not find acceptable the use of this term under
any circumstance by anyone nor condone any form of racism or
discrimination.”

Deen, in case you forgot, underwent a
deposition related to an employment discrimination lawsuit. During it,
she answered a question about whether she's used the N-word with "Yes,
of course...It’s just what they are — they’re jokes... most jokes are
about Jewish people, rednecks, black folks... I can’t determine what
offends another person."  

Maybe
Deen, 66, has put her N-word uttering days behind her, at least after
entering the world of celebrity. Except, according to the deposition,
there's the other part of Deen's tone-deaf take on how to be a not
racist person living in the present: in 2007, she fantasized about
hiring an all-black staff to for what she admits to characterizing as a “really
southern plantation wedding." While Deen has denied saying the content
of the specific accusation in the suit, including that Deen used the
N-word to describe the men, she did describe a scenario that doesn't sound much better: 

“I remember telling them about a
restaurant that my husband and I had recently visited. And I’m wanting
to think it was in Tennessee or North Carolina or somewhere, and it was
so impressive...The whole entire wait staff was middle-aged black men,
and they had on beautiful white jackets with a black bow tie. I mean, it
was really impressive. And I remember saying I would love to have
servers like that, I said, but I would be afraid that somebody would
misinterpret.”

Paula, honey, stop talking. As an old ass Southern lady, you know damn well that what you said was wrong. And people with sense won't forget that. Now, I need you to admit that you stole your recipes from that black lady who cooked for your family.