Chelle Ramsey's Blog, page 11

The Strength To Withstand...

Welcome to a brand new week, a week of empowered living, Almighty God's amazing grace, and extended mercies. Today's Motivational Monday Moment comes from author, Sheena Binkley. Read on...
I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
 
-Philippians 4:13
 
In life, various obstacles can put a damper on your dreams, goals, or just on your everyday routine. Throughout my life, I have been through so much, and this verse has been significant to me in several ways.
 
Whether it’s concerning my books, my job, family, or just driving, I say this verse to help me get through the day. A lot can happen in a matter of seconds, so I need this motivation to help me overcome whatever I’m facing.
 
Although I use this verse a lot, it meant so much more to me when my mom passed almost seven years ago. My mom was my best friend, so when she passed, it rocked me to the core. I knew this verse was important, but during that time, it really did help me ease through the pain a bit because the Lord did conform me and gave me the strength to find a sense of peace with her passing.
 
Whether through a bible verse or a prayer, God can help you in various ways. For me, this is my go-to saying when I need strength and encouragement. I hope it can do the same for you all as well.

Thanks for joining us for another Motivational Monday Moment! Please leave a comment below,  Sheena would love to hear from you!
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20 Days of Love, Eartha...

Today's 20 Days of Love demonstrates a love between best friends and the frustration that sets up when one of the actors is pledged to someone else. Read Eartha Watts-Hicks, Love Changes...
Mia Love is struggling with a newborn baby, a live-in commitment-phobe, and a handsome, flirtatious best friend, trying to ease his way in. Torn between the father of her baby and her male bestie....LOVE CHANGES.
At the curb, I threw my arm up to hail a taxi, wondering if I had enough for the fare. Reaching into my purse for my wallet, I noticed I didn’t feel my keys. I ran my hand across the bottom. Nothing. I realized where they were. Taking a deep breath, I looked to my left. Less than half a block away a peanut vendor was roasting nuts from the cart, releasing a honey-sweet aroma, but the thought of eating the peanuts was not as appealing as the thought of hurling them at Romell and sending his ass into anaphylactic shock.I looked back at the doorway of Pookie’s just as Romell came stepping out, hands in the pockets of his black slacks, two plastic bags hanging at his left. Because he works out a lot, his posture’s erect but his swagger seemed looser than ever. Still, I saw tension in his face. No dimples now, he had lockjaw. He looked at me, cockeyed. “No cab? Or did you just realize you left your keys?”

I didn’t answer that, and I didn’t say a word to him in the cab; I tossed my head, flinging my hair back over my shoulder, twisted my body away from him, and crossed my legs. Romell tried to get my attention by whistling Marvin Gaye’s “I Want You.” When that didn’t work, he started pelting my feet with pellets of used chewing gum wrapped in foil, seven pieces in about ten minutes. I figured he was chewing all that gum and spitting it out just to annoy me, but I kept my back to him the entire ride and walked ahead of him into the building. We rode up to the thirty-seventh floor in separate elevators. As soon as he unlocked his door, I bolted into the living room. Even in my slim skirt and croc pumps, I was Flo Jo. My leg banged into his marble cocktail table, sending it spinning around on its axis until the halves formed a circle. I dented my shin, but I wasn’t rubbing my boo-boo. I jumped right on his Slinky sofa, leaned over it, reaching until I snatched my keys up off the rug. Then I made a beeline for the door, hoping I could run right out, but he blocked my exit. When I stepped to the left, he stepped to that side. When I tried to veer to the right, he kept right in front of me. I knew then he would not let me past; I had no choice but to get in his face, “What?”

“You don’t wanna be with me?”

I shook my head.

“You don’t wanna be with me?”

“No, I do not!”

“You show up in stilettos and a little skirt, and you expect me to believe you don’t want me?”

“I did this for Spider.”

“Well, Spider isn’t here now. Is he? And, what about your poem?”

“What about it? I wanted you to know how I feel.”

“Oh, so you admit you have feelings for me?”

“Pah–leese, Romell! That poem is about your situation.”

“My situation, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s the perfect solution.”

“If you think you and I hookin’ up would be the perfect solution, why don’t you just say you want me?”

“Are you mental?”

“How long have you wanted me, Mia? How long?”

“Now, I know you’ve lost it. What makes you think I want you?”

“Your poem! I’ve got it right here.” He patted himself down, pulled a page out of his back pocket and unfolded it in front of me. “There! You say all through this how you’re gonna melt my fears away and how you’re gonna make me feel.”

I looked, reading aloud halfheartedly, “Chocolate Love every day can melt your fears away and have you feeling new. That’s what Chocolate can do.” Then, I shook my head. “And?”

He smacked his baldhead, paced and then, banged the back of it into the wall. “Chocolate, your last name is Love!”

“So? I wrote this to motivate you to embrace black love.”

“Stop it. The only black Love you want me to embrace is you.”

Now, I read the whole thing through. I could see how he could make that assumption. The words
 “Chocolate” and “Love” were both capitalized all the way through the poem, but I didn’t do that intentionally. That connection didn’t even occur to me when I jotted the lines down; my mind was in a totally different place. I laughed, but he didn’t see humor in this, at all. His face was as stiff as steel.
I tried to explain. “I know how this looks, Romell, but that wasn’t the meaning behind this. I meant chocolate as opposed to vanilla or any other flavor. Chocolate is a metaphor for black, and Love is just love, the emotion. Not my last name. That’s just a coincidence.”

“This ain’t no coinki-dink! I told you once before. You won’t be happy until I’m with a woman who’s your height, your weight, and your complexion. What I should have said is you won’t be happy, until I’m with you. Why won’t you just admit it?”

“Hello! I am in a relationship with Spider. Remember him? Real tall, kinda goofy, I love him. Seriously, I was not coming on to you.”

He stood, huffing and puffing for a moment, then looked at me hard. “Did you eat any peanuts?”

“No! What the hell kind of question is—”

I didn’t finish my sentence. The next thing I knew, I felt his warm tongue, stroking mine and tickling the roof of my mouth....


(To see where this scene leads, please purchase the Complete Revised Edition of LOVE CHANGES).

CLICK HERE to PURCHASE
www.tinyurl.com/LoveChangesNovel

Eartha Watts-Hicks is the founder of Earthatone Publishing and Earthatone Books. Former director of publications for Cultivating Our Sisterhood International Association (COSIA), she is a NYFA (New York Foundation for the Arts) artist, a member of the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP), and the legendary Harlem Writers Guild. A fiction fellow of the Hurston/Wright Foundation, Center for Black Literature and North Country Institute and Retreat for Writers of Color, Eartha’s writings have appeared in several online publications, including Harlem World Magazine, TheUrbanBookSource.com, and Future Executives.org. Her writing advice has been featured in The Writer’s Guide to 2013. In June of 2013, she received the Just R.E.A.D. “Game Changer” Award in the fiction category from the NYCHA branch of the NAACP and was named New York City literacy ambassador. In 2014, she was featured in the Congressional Black Caucus as part of the Write It Down panel discussion. A PR writer and affiliate of BlackPR.com, she specializes in press releases for entrepreneurs, ministries, and nonprofits. Eartha is also a NYFA affiliated artist/entrepreneur. She leads writing, self-publishing, and publicity workshops for the New York Public Library, The National Writers Union, and The New York City Parks Department. Eartha is currently editor-in-chief at Harlem World Magazine.


CONNECT WITH EARTHA:

PREVIEW LINK: www.tinyurl.com/APlannerPreview


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Contact LinksFor more information, visit  www.earthatone.com  or connect across social media @Earthatone.
Thanks for joining us for another 20 Days of Love! Please leave a comment below, Eartha would love to hear from you!
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20 Days of Love, Nia...

It's another 20 Days of Love, and today Nia Forrester is dropping in to tease our imaginations with a tempting, sensual love. The kind of love that tickles our senses and causes us to keep turning the pages for more. A love between best friends. Read on...
About The Makeover...
Samantha has been best friends with Colton since they were toddlers. His NBA career has never impressed her, nor would he want it to. Their friendship is based on two things: a long, shared history, and Sam's tendency to keep things real with him, even if the rest of the world doesn't.
 
They’ve got the ‘friends’ part down pat. But after one reckless night, they have to learn how to be lovers. For him, it means they go on as before, except now … there’s sex. But for her, it means they need a total relationship makeover.
“Is this a habit with y’all?”

Sam looked up at Aidan. “Is what a habit? And who’s ‘y’all’?”

Inclining his head toward the other end of their table, he indicated Colt and Janelle, apparently deep in conversation.

“You, and your boy. Hooking up with folks and making a group date out of it.”

“Oh, are we on a date?” Sam asked. “I thought we were all just hanging out.”

Aidan shrugged. “I guess I just wish we were someplace quieter. So you and me could get to know each other better.”

They had all left Bar One and met up again at the tapas restaurant in Metro Center. It was larger, and noisier than the bar, and they had ordered a feast—ten small plates—with two pitchers of sangria, and a bottle of white wine for the table.

“We can do that some other time,” Sam suggested.

At that, Aidan grinned. He had been brazenly monopolizing her since they were seated, staking out his claim to the chair next to hers. His cousin, Rich and Rich’s fiancée had Janelle’s friend occupied; and Colt and Janelle were talking with heads close together at the other end of their table. Janelle’s hand had been resting on Colt’s arm, not moving for what had to be the past half hour. But who was counting?

“Lemme see your phone,” Aidan said holding out a hand.

Sam reached down and fished into her purse, pulling it out, and unlocking it. Aidan took it from between her fingers and entered his information before handing it back.

“Because I have a feeling you’re going to disappear like Cinderella at midnight.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because your boy down there? He’s not really into ol’ girl.”

Sam glanced in Colt and Janelle’s direction. To her, it looked like very much the opposite. The way they were leaning in like that, the whole thing. It was all very … cozy. She reached for her wine and took a long sip.

“What makes you say that?” she asked when she put it down.

“He’s looking down here. Out of the corner of his eyes. Been doing it since we got here. He’s not really paying attention to her.”

Sam looked again. And this time, she paid attention, seeing past the obvious and focusing on the details. Colt was leaning in to Janelle, sure. But his face was angled away from her. He wasn’t making eye contact.

And Janelle’s hand, though it rested on his forearm, now looked less than intimate. Now, it looked grasping, and almost desperate, like she was struggling to hold Colt’s attention, and knew that she wasn’t succeeding.

Sam almost smiled.

“See?” Aidan said.

Sam nodded wordlessly, then looked at her “date” again. “Interesting,” was all she could muster without sounding too pleased.

Aidan shrugged again. “I’m a dude. And I know how dudes act when we’re into someone. He’s not into her. The person he’s into, is down here.”

Sam pulled back. “Down where?”

“Here.”

“What makes you think …?” She shook her head, picking up her wine again, horrified by how much delight Aidan’s observation caused her. “Colt and I have been friends since we were kids. He’s just overprotective, that’s all.”

“Okay.” Aidan sounded unconvinced. “How about we make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?”

“If he makes it till …” Aidan looked at his watch. “If he makes it till midnight without telling you it’s time to leave, then we go on a real date. Just the two of us. If he asks you to leave before midnight, then we go on two dates.”

Sam laughed. “Wait. What? I don’t get how you lose with either option.”

“If he asks you to leave before midnight and you do it, then that tells me I’m going to need at least two dates with me to get him out of your system.”

“He’s not in my system,” Sam said. “He’s like a brother.”

“Cool. So then scratch the bet, and just agree to go out with me.”

Sam laughed again. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“Nah. Just determined.”

“We don’t need the bet,” Sam said. “I’d love to go out with you.” 
 
**********
 
Eleven fifty-three p.m.

That was a respectable time to head home on a Friday night. In just a minute, Colt planned to put the kibosh on this whole night. After fixing her latrine, he should have just posted up at Sam’s and watched ‘Homeland’ or something. Watching shows like that with her was as exasperating as it was amusing. She always lost the narrative thread and asked questions that she should have known the answer to if she’d been even half-assed paying attention.

‘Wait, who’s Nasir now? Is it that guy who just got blown up, or the curly-haired kid?’

What made it cute was that she always asked at a volume just below a stage-whisper, like they were in a movie-theater, instead of alone in her living room. And when something exciting looked like it was about to happen, that was always when she had to leave the room.

‘Pause it, pause it! I have to refill my glass. You want something?’

And then there would be an awkward freeze-frame on her television—a partly-exploded car, the main character’s face stuck in a farcical grimace, while Colt rolled his eyes. Then she’d return, settle on the sofa next to him and rest her feet in his lap, and asking, ‘Where were we?’ before un-pausing the show. Of course, by then, the dramatic effect was lost, and Colt would have to rewind a few minutes’ worth just to get in the spirit once again.

Colt reached for his glass of water and took a long sip. He had laid off the alcohol more than an hour ago, and now was just hoping to piss it all out, so he could be straight for his workout the next morning. Next to him, Janelle was still chattering up a storm. And he was dutifully nodding and responding when it seemed like a response was called for.

It was funny how he’d never known this about her—that she liked to listen to herself talk. But, why would he have known that? They met in the gym, where conversation was, by necessity, kept to a minimum. And maybe the talking wouldn’t have bothered him as much if the restaurant wasn’t already so doggone loud, and if he wasn’t preoccupied with Sam and her summer-suit-wearing Casanova down there.

Sam didn’t know men. She didn’t know game. But Colt did.

Dude was not the settling-down kind. You could tell by that suit, and his watch. The suit made him look like he was harmless, and that was probably by design. But the watch gave him away—it was showy and expensive, and, Colt believed, probably betrayed his true nature. All sizzle, no steak.

Colt wore a very sensible 88 Rue Du Rhone himself. Moderately expensive, but only expensive because it was high-quality. Not expensive because it was flashy.

He couldn’t believe Sam was falling for dude’s bullshit. And he knew she was falling for it because she was down there at the other end of the table, kiki’ing it up with him, in between guzzling that monster-glass of wine in front of her. By Colt’s count it had been refilled three times. Roughly eighteen ounces of wine. And that wasn’t counting whatever she had to drink at Bar One.

Yeah, it was definitely time to go. He turned to look directly at Janelle for the first time in maybe a half-hour.

“Excuse me,” he said before pushing back from his seat.
 
 
**********

About Nia...
Nia Forrester lives and writes in Philadelphia, PA where, by day, she is an attorney working on public policy and by night, she crafts woman-centered fiction that examines the complexities of life, love and the human condition.
 
If you reach her at authorniaforrester@gmail.com, she will respond.



Visit with the Author at: www.niaforrester.com
Twitter: @NiaForrester
Facebook: www.facebook.com/nia.forrester.1
And check out her books on Amazon: http://amzn.to/2EGAXPD
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February 22nd, 2018

On today's 20 Days of Love, Mary Finley is sharing a novel about a special love, All Right At The Same Time. That between a mother and a daughter. These relationships can be beautiful, or volatile filled with hurt and pain. Reaching beyond the scars to the true heart can oftentimes be difficult, but worthwhile in the eyes of a daughter.

I read this novel a while ago, and I loved it. It moved my heart to compassion and many scenes filled my eyes to tears. Read on...
About All Right At The Same Time...
Ray and Mary Ann Lewis are a young couple who have been married since they were seniors in college. As it nears their seventh anniversary their marriage is reaching a tumultuous level and both are tempted by exes, who seem to come from out of nowhere. Will they stay together, or yield to and scratch a seven year itch?  
 
Carrie and Jordan Barrett-Bennett are a middle-aged, lesbian, happily married, urban, professional couple who've known one another since they were first graders. When Carrie was a child her mother, Loraine, put her through a traumatizing ordeal that resulted in them becoming more estranged from one another as the years passed. Loraine even refused to attend Carrie's wedding. When fatal illness strikes will one of them step up and let bygones be bygones before it's too late? 
 
All Right At The Same Time is a tale of love, regret, heartache and forgiveness. Will love conquer all in the end?

Loraine returned to the living room with a small glass bottle in her hand and Carrie folded her arms. “Please don’t start with the crazy stuff, okay? I didn’t come here to be prayed over.” She scooted back on the couch. “I respect your beliefs, always have, but you can’t seem to respect mine.”

“What do you believe, Carolyn Marie?” Loraine gave Carrie a blank stare.

“Not this. My scars from that one night are . . . deeper than the ocean.” She closed her eyes. “It’s like it happened yesterday for me.”

Loraine started pacing. “If you would’ve had faith then, you wouldn’t be suffering right now.”

“Momma, I was twelve years old. If Daddy hadn’t heard about it and came to get me . . .”

Loraine looked at Carrie and grimaced. “He didn’t talk to me for almost a week after what you did.”

“What I did!” Carrie stood and made a beeline toward the door with Loraine on her heels.

“You chose to stay in your sinful ways and George didn’t make it no better. Acting like he approved of you putting on, having relations with women.”

Carrie did an about-face and glared eye-to-eye with her mother. “One woman. I was a virgin until age 19 when Jordan and I decided to live our truth, and not anyone else’s. She’s the only person, male or female, I’ve given my body to, yet you always talk about me like I’m a whore.” She cocked her head to the side. “So, how many men did you sleep with before marrying Daddy?”

Loraine pursed her lips. “Don’t ask me a question like that. It was too long ago and none of your business.”

“You’re right, and neither is it your business what goes on in my bedroom.” Carrie wiped her eyes. “I’m 40 now, but no matter how successful I’ve been personally and professionally, you’re still ashamed of me. That’s not real love.” She opened the door. “There’s a gift coming for you in the mail soon. I’ll keep you informed of my health situation.” She kissed her mother’s jaw and left.
Download...
About Mary...
Mary A. Finley is owner and CEO of MayRann Speaks Productions LLC and publisher for McCurtain Press. She’s author of the Thicker Than Blood novel series, and publisher/editor of The Jars of Clay Chronicles autobiographical series.

Contact Mary Finley: mayrannspeaksllc@gmail.com
Thanks for joining us for another 20 Days of Love! Please leave a comment below, Mary would love to hear from you!
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20 Days of Love, Suzette...

Joy Matthews isn’t afraid of risks. She’s quit her Fortune 500 job and enrolled in culinary school, chasing her dream. Joy wants her own couture cake boutique. Pursuing her dream by day, Joy pays the bills working nights at The Hourglass—an exclusive gentlemen’s club catering to patrons who enjoy a little extra fine on a woman’s frame. Joy’s catching up to her dream when a chance encounter reconnects her with Quinton Daley, a childhood friend. Mutual attraction throws the proverbial wrench in Joy’s relationship-phobic, happily agnostic life. A goal-oriented woman who ‘doesn’t do men with Bible breath,’ Joy sees in Quinton a whole lot of what she likes but doesn’t need. Tall, chocolate-skinned, and born-again, Quinton’s Christianity poses a risk even the tenacious Joy isn’t willing to take. But, Quinton Daley isn’t fazed. He’s a man of faith who’ll willingly wait on Joy to come to God…and him. When love and lust heat up, Joy and Quinton face a predicament. Will they indulge? Or abstain? Join this wild mix of custom cakes, a saved, sanctified and sexy man, and an obsessed patron from The Hourglass who’s determined to make Joy’s life a sticky mess. It’s a recipe for a read that’s wickedly witty and delicious.

That thought did a quick fade when I reentered the lobby to see our party had increased with Ronnie and this manly mountain of luscious chocolate that made me want M&M’s, something, to melt in my mouth and my hands.

“I thought you fell in,” LaVelle complained.

“Hey, Cuz.” Ronnie gave me his long, lanky embrace. “Come meet my frat brother, Que.”

I would if I could. The moment that man turned those candy bar-colored eyes on me, I was stuck on stupid.

Unfolding his fine self from that pleather lobby seat, he was casually dressed and looking like something from a calendar of Black Kings. “I’m Que.” He had a rich, velvety baritone that reached down deep, massaging me. “And you are?”

A woman with an egg in her ovary waiting on you.

“I’m Joy.” Accepting the hand he extended, I felt that zip-zap like when we were kids and intentionally rubbed our feet on the carpet then touched each other, hollering, “Zing!” Yeah, that. Static electricity. Wasn’t nothing static about it. That warmth seized my hand and was busy creeping. “I’m LaVelle’s cousin.”

“Beauty runs in the family.”

“So does diabetes, but I don’t want any.” Velle enjoyed her own foolery.

Que merely smiled, exposing a single dimple deep in his left cheek.

I wanted to lick it. Bet it tasted like Ghiradelli chocolate.

Thankfully, that little buzzer thing restaurants hand out decided to vibrate and kept me from jumping ridiculous.

“Table’s ready,” Yazmeen announced, like couldn’t nobody but her hear or see the buzzer flashing atop her lap. Hopping up, she chimed, “Joy…you coming?”

I wanted to punch Yaz in her throat for calling attention to the fact that I was right where I was moments ago, holding the manly mountain’s hand. I released a grip that wasn’t too eager to release me.

Ignoring Yazmeen’s grinning with all thirty-two teeth, I popped Candace on the arm. “Girl, wake up.”

The nut actually snorted. “I’m resting my eyes. I’m not sleep.”

“Tell that to the drool dripping down your lip.” I was shocked by the instant warmth washing down my spine when Chocolate Mountain laughed. I pulled Candace to her feet, needing something, anything to distract me. I was too old to feel flutters like a sweet sixteen.
 
As life would have it, I wound up across from Ronnie’s frat brother, which was worse than if we’d sat side-by-side. Now, he was in my line of vision, overloading it with his gorgeousness.

Woowee, somebody! That brother was everything. Not pretty-boy fine, but a bone-deep, manly-man kind of beautiful that made my uterus dip. Hair was low and lined. A neatly trimmed goatee and moustache caressed that chocolate skin. With high cheekbones, he was tall and built like he actually worked out, instead of letting his gym fees pay the light bill (like mine). When he excused himself to the restroom, I copped a good look at a muscled back and strong thighs I wouldn’t mind wrapping with mine. The jeans weren’t tight, but oh so right, handling that luscious behind. And that walk. Honey Bunny was slightly bowlegged, y’all! Downright swagalicious, he looked delicious and nutritious.
Download My Joy...
About Suzette...
Suzette D. Harrison, a native Californian and the middle of three daughters, grew up in a home where reading was required, not requested. Her literary “career” began in junior high school with the publishing of her poetry. While Mrs. Harrison pays homage to Alex Haley, Gloria Naylor, Alice Walker, Langston Hughes, and Toni Morrison as legends who inspired her creativity, it was Dr. Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings that unleashed her writing. The award-winning author of Taffy is a wife and mother who holds a culinary degree in Pastry & Baking. Mrs. Harrison is currently cooking up her next novel…in between batches of cupcakes.
 
 
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Thanks for joining us for another 20 Days of Love! Please leave a comment below, Suzette would love to hear from you!
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20 Days of Love, Suzette Riddick...

Suzette Riddick is warming up those cold, winter nights with her newest novel, Caliente Nights. When an accident between two unsuspecting people turn into something more than either of them bargained for, the ice around their hearts will melt, and they're both in for more than they can imagine. Check out Suzette's 20 Days of Love post and leave a comment for a chance to be entered into her giveaway for a copy of her book, Baby Love...
About Caliente Nights...
Nursery school teacher Jeanette Adams is struggling to keep her family owned business afloat. Working days at the school and nights as a department store clerk is taking its toll physically on Jeanette. When things couldn’t get any worse, she finds herself in a situation that will further burden her financially after she crashes into a luxury vehicle. Romance is the last thing on her mind; that is until she comes face to face with the owner, undeniably sexy, Alonzo Castro.

Professional athlete Alonzo Castro has had it with gold-digging women. All he wants is to meet a woman who isn’t interested in his status or bank account. Beautiful, car-wrecking, Jeanette Adams is the breath of fresh air he’s been craving. Determined to make Jeanette his, Alonzo pursues the sassy teacher despite his parent’s desire for him to marry within their nationality.

As the couple’s relationship is thriving their love is tested when Alonzo doesn’t come clean about his past. When his secret is outed by a trusted friend will Jeanette be able to forgive him?

Alonzo’s foul mood evaporated the moment his eyes locked with Jeanette’s. Beautiful was the first word that came rushing to his brain. She wasn’t the statuesque, leggy type he preferred to compliment his six-four height. Her petite stature, caramel complexion, hazel eyes, and full, kissable lips were magnetizing. He wanted to reach out and rub the shoulder-length two-strand twists between his fingers to see if they were as soft as they looked.

His gaze continued to roam as he took in her small breasts outlined in a teal long-sleeve tee shirt, her tiny waist, and snug-fitting jeans showcasing curvy hips. Childbearing hips. He tossed that crazy thought out of his head. His mother’s nagging earlier this morning to settle down with a nice Cuban girl and start a family was messing with him.

Alonzo suppressed the urge to lick his lips. Over sensitized by women throwing themselves at him, it had been forever since he desired a woman on sight. They all looked the same. Cosmetically enhanced breasts, fake eyelashes, caked on makeup, silicon-injected lips, and butts. This Jeanette Adams was on the other end of the spectrum. Her natural beauty was captivating.
 
Oh…my… God… Breathe…Jeanette… Breathe… Who in the world is this Laz Alonso clone? Jeanette wondered. She’d seen just about every movie or television show the sexy, Afro-Latino played in.
Jeanette was nervous as she approached the stranger who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. Gloria said he looked unhappy. Did something happen in such a short span of time? She had braced herself to deal with a grizzly bear of a man. Instead, his eyes were slowly taking her in as if he was interested in what he saw. Jeanette quickly shook off that foolishness. This man was here to squeeze money out of her that she didn’t have.

“Hi, my aunt said you were here to see me?’

“Jeanette Adams?”

Surely this angel couldn’t be responsible for the minor dent and scratches on his vehicle.

“Yes,” Jeanette answered, trying to control the shaking in her voice. His penetrating gaze was setting off flutters in her belly.

Alonzo reached into an inner pocket of the black, leather jacket he wore. Jeanette’s face flushed when he pulled out a recognizable piece of paper.

“You left this note on my car?”

“I’m … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit your car. It’s just that I was so tired after working my second job and I put the car in reverse instead of drive and—”

As Jeanette floundered in a feeble attempt to explain her unintentional carelessness, three-year-old Mya entered the room whimpering. On impulse Jeanette went to the child thankful for the interruption. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to take those sexy, dark eyes staring her down.

“Another bad dream, sweetie?” Jeanette softly asked Mya as she stooped down to lift the child’s tiny body into her arms.

Mya snuggled close, tucking her head in Jeanette’s bosom.

Yes,” the child whimpered wiping at moist eyes.

“It’s okay. You’re safe with me,” she whispered, reassuring the child as she made her way back to Alonzo.

Alonzo’s heart melted as Jeanette approached him with the child on her left hip. His mother’s words came rushing back at the uncomfortable pulling in the center of his chest. He came there prepared to lash out at Jeanette for being so careless. After her honest confession and witnessing her tender interaction with the child, there was no way he could go through with being outright mean. And there was no way this woman had purposely staged an accident to wiggle her way into his bed. Truthfully, with her incredibly sexy, petite body he wished that had been her intent. He would have been more than ready to indulge her.

“I’m sorry for the interruption.” Jeanette apologized as she continued to cradle Mya.

“It’s fine. Is she alright?” Alonzo queried with concern, nodding in Mya’s direction.

Jeanette tightened her hold on the tiny body. If she hadn’t, she might have dropped the child. The man’s voice was sexy and deep with a hint of Latin flavor causing her knees to slightly buckle.

“She’ll be fine in a few minutes. As I was saying, I’m sorry about hitting your car. I know what I did was stupid.”

Jeanette’s face turned a tinge of pink. She couldn’t believe she called herself stupid in front of the sexiest man alive. What she was about to say next sent her into a panic thinking about the money she didn’t have for an increase in her premium rate.

“I do have insurance. If you wait a minute I can go get my wallet and give you my information.”

Jeannette didn’t wait for a response as she rushed out of the room through another doorway.

Alonzo’s phone rang. Glancing at the name on the display he answered. “Hey, Julio. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Checking to see what time you’ll be by the restaurant. I have some numbers I want to run by you.”

“I’m in the middle of something. When I’m done here, I’ll swing through.”

“You caught up with the chick who hit your ride?”

“Young lady,” Alonzo corrected.

Julio chuckled. “That’s not what you were calling her last night.”

Alonzo cringed. He had thought the worst of Jeanette before meeting her a few minutes ago, and his colorful name calling hadn’t been too gentlemanly.

“Let’s just say she’s not what I expected her to be.”

“Is she ugly?” his younger brother teased.

This time Alonzo chuckled. “Far from it. Have everything ready for me when I get there.”
“Alright bro. See you later.”

“Later.”

As Alonzo was sliding his phone inside his pocket, Jeanette returned to the room with Mya now on her right hip. She handed him a slip of paper.

“I jotted down my information. I called my insurance company this morning to inform them I had an accident, so they’ll be expecting your call.”

While she was speaking another toddler, this time a little boy, wandered into the room leaning against Jeanette’s left leg. He stared at Alonzo with wide curious eyes.

An emptiness he couldn’t explain settled over him as he watched the children clinging to Jeanette for comfort.

“I can see you’re busy. Why don’t I come back after you close this evening so we can talk?”

What did they have to talk about? Everything he needed was on the paper she’d given him. Was he going to demand she pay out of pocket instead of going through the insurance company? She hoped not! She was dreading the five-hundred-dollar deductible she had to pay that was going to wipe her entire savings out.  Reluctantly, she agreed with a nod.

“Come back at seven.”

When he smiled showing a straight row of white teeth, her knees did that buckling thing again. 

“Seven it is,” Alonzo said as he turned and headed toward the door.

As he reached for the doorknob Jeanette called out, “Hey, what’s your name?”

With his back to her an amused grin curved his lips. She doesn’t know who I am. This could be interesting.

“Alonzo Castro.”

About Suzette...
Suzette Riddick is a wife, mother and nurse practitioner who enjoys writing romance novels with real life situations readers can relate to. Suzette is an Amazon bestselling author of African American Romance and was a featured author in USA Today ~ Happy Ever After. She is a native of Philadelphia, PA and enjoys spending time with her family and friends. To learn more about Suzette, her books, and to follow her on social media, visit her website at www.suzetteriddick.com.

CONTACT SUZETTE & DOWNLOAD YOUR COPY OF CALIENTE NIGHTS:

author@suzetteriddick.com and http://bit.ly/CalienteNights & http://bit.ly/suzettebooks
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The Woman That Fears...

Welcome back to Motivational Monday Moments. This week our featured writer is Kortni Renea and she's sharing some powerful insight into the vanity that we as women often hold. When I say she wraps it up in a nutshell...it would do us all well to learn this lesson she shares at a young age. So much heartache could be spared. Read on...
Hello everyone! I hope you are all having a great day, I’d first like to start by thanking, Chelle Ramsey for including me in her Monday Motivational Movement post! When it comes to scriptures and books of The Bible, it can be very hard to choose a favorite selection. However, I do have a favorite scripture! My all-time favorite scripture is, “Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised” (Proverbs 31:30 KJV).

For me personally, this is not only, a POWERUL scripture, but a very special one as well. When I was twenty-nine, my mother passed away. A month and a half later, I turned the big 3-0! I love watching my younger female friends turn thirty. It’s so fun to witness the transformation that comes with turning thirty, especially once you hit that thirty and a half marker. Once you arrive at that marker, it’s like life is finally starting to make sense! And what you realize, is that when it comes down to life, everything you’ve stressed about and thought was so important in the past, really means nothing. That’s right, in the grand scheme of life, those worries mean absolutely nothing!

What an ex says about you doesn’t matter, because you know who you are and you don’t have time to entertain someone who plays no lead role in your life. Acquaintances who have said things about you behind your back, oh well, it doesn’t matter what so and so thinks. All that matters is what I think! And so on and so forth. Trust, I could go on all day…but I won’t. For myself, I think with my mother getting diagnosed with cancer and passing away six months later at the young age of fifty-nine, I hit that marker earlier than the norm. If I’m judging my lifespan based off of my mothers, at that point, I’d already lived half of my life.

Wow! Talk about eye opener. So the little ish in life, became minute! Microscopic. I couldn’t see it, nor could I hear it. During this time, I started getting back into church and attended services regularly. One Sunday, I can’t remember what the sermon was on, but my Pastor read Proverbs 31:30 KJV. I can’t really put into words what I felt in that moment, but it was like I’d been stuck in the dark for months and suddenly someone flipped on their high-beam headlights.

This scripture not only, put into words everything I’d been feeling, but it also gave my feelings validation. It answered questions, I didn’t even realized I’d been asking myself. Proverbs 31:30, told me I was right in not caring what others thought of me - Favour is deceitful. If you’re seeking validation from others, you will one day find that most of those who smile in your face are actually praying for your demise. It was okay to leave the house without being dressed to the nines, hair on point, face on fleek and heels on deck! What?! Why? How can this be so?

Because beauty is vain. But hold on, how do I expect for a man to find me (I am of the mindset that he who findeth a good thing) and marry me? I don’t want to walk through life alone… If I don’t care what people think of me or pour umpteen hours into primping and pampering myself, how in the world do I expect to be blessed with my husband? Because He said, but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.

With Proverbs 31:30, being such a powerful and moving scripture, I can’t begin to think of how many different meanings and interpretations everyone has for it. Above is only a smidgeon of how this particular scripture speaks to me. It was there for me during a very rough and trying time. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised, became my personal mantra for the remainder of 2011 and through 2012.

Kortni ReneaYou can find my latest release @
http://books2read.com/ATL


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20 Days Of Love, Unoma...

Welcome back friends to another 20 Days of Love. Unoma Nwankwor os sharing a delightful story with is roday. Don't miss it... About To Live Again...


The devastation of Itohan Adolo’s tragic love story creates an anger at the world and distance from her faith. That is until Osaro Ikimi comes along. Although he wasn’t looking for love, he wasn’t one to let an opportunity pass him by.
Just when the couple tried to give love a chance. the opportunity for revenge against her ex falls in Itohan’s lap. Unable to let the opportunity go, she sets a plan in motion. However, the satisfaction she feels is short lived when she discovers that the plan will also destroy the new love she’s just realized she can’t live without.
​
Love isn’t supposed to keep records of wrong but that’s easier said than done. Will they lean on their faith to heal the damage or are somethings just beyond repair? Excerpt... “Now I see where you came up with your outlandish assumption.”

His voice caused her to stop digging in her purse for her keys and returned her gaze to him.

“May I?” He gestured toward the drawing.

She nodded, and he removed the tack that held it to the corkboard. She watched as he sauntered toward her. He stood before her. Any closer and his body would touch hers. She moved back, but he moved closer, until she was backed up against the Smart Board. Itohan decided right there and then, she was having a heart attack.

He stared down at her and she accepted his challenge holding his gaze. A vision of him taking her to the morgue because she’d died under the intensity of his gaze flashed through her mind. That could not and would not be her portion, so taking him on wasn’t in her best interest. He was testing her, and she was bound to lose. She should be running and not entering the ring with him. Warning alarms went off in her head. This was a dangerous game, so she gave in. With nowhere else to go, she stepped aside.

“Did that feel like I play for the other team?”

She was stuck. When she told her brother the story, he told her she had inadvertently questioned Osaro’s manhood. Right now, he was trying to prove a point and with the way her breath caught in her chest, he had accomplished his goal.

He bent down, putting his ear at the level of her mouth. “I didn’t hear you, Ms. Adolo.” His tone demanded an answer.
​
“No,” she whispered.
​
© Unoma Nwankwor 2018

Buy Links:
Kindle : http://bit.ly/ToLiveAgain
Print: https://gum.co/iYMOb About Unoma... Born in Akron, Ohio to Nigerian parents, Unoma Nwankwor is an international bestselling, award winning author of several fiction titles, and a champion of purpose. She is the recipient of the Nigerian Writers’ Award 2015 for Best Faith Based Fiction Writer. At the end of 2016, she was short listed for the Diaspora Writer of the Year. She was also recently named as one of the “100 Most Influential Nigerian Writers Under 40.”

When she's not writing fiction, she is passionate about empowering Christianprenuers to remain anchored in hope through the darkness of uncertainty by building confident expectations in the promises of God. She’s the host of the Anchor Talk Podcast, the COO of KevStel Group LLC and Founder of Living A Life of Expectancy.
​
Unoma resides in Atlanta with her husband and two children

Social Media
Want to know more about Unoma and her other works of fictions? Here is where you can find her.
Instgram: @unwankwor
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Website: www.unomanwankwor.com Thanks for joining us for another 20 Days of Love! Please leave a comment below. I would love to hear from you!
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20 Days, W Parks Brigham...

It's another 20 Days of Love and romance is in the air for Dana Mitchell and Fletcher Morrison. Today, 20 Days of Love is serving up a heaping dish full of sweet romance, W Parks Brigham/Texas style. Come on in and read a little...
Snobbish Diva, Dana Mitchell said she wasn’t desperate for a man even if her biological clock was ticking…or was she. She did accept a date to go out with greasy truck driver Fletcher Morrison to spite her mother, and had an unexpected life changing experience.

Everyone said he was crazy to think the spoiled Mitchell Princess would give him the time of day. Certainly wouldn’t consider dating him nor would she accept his family baggage. But she did and now has only one thing on her mind that even he couldn’t believe.
Dana pulled into the hotel for valet parking and was ready to make the best of the evening.  Like she’d said, after tonight it would be all over. 
 
Wow, thought Fletcher as he watched her enter the lobby.  She was absolutely stunning with her long, flowing hair hanging past her shoulders down her back.  Her dark-streaked, auburn hair color stood out against her dark, honey-colored complexion and her jeweled, black bolero sweater.  He loved the sway of her hips in the deep vibrant red dress which flowed seductively around her ample curves.  Pretty-shaped calves and thick ankles were visible in multi-strapped heels.  He should have been ashamed of himself, wishing the wind to blow so he could see more, but it didn’t.
           
            Dang, thought Dana, he was waiting for her just like he said as she stepped inside. He met her with his dazzling smile, sporting two adorable dimples. That was something she never noticed before. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his tall, lean body.  And he did look good in his black slacks, which had to be tailor-made, which fit his bowed legs perfectly, along with the red, collarless sweater that hugged his tone muscles.
           
            “Hi Dana, you made it.  You look pretty, as always,” he stated, taking her hand in his.
           
            “Thank you, Fletcher, and you also look nice,” she replied, staring up into his smiling face.  Dark molasses, Gramps’s favorite syrup, was what his skin color reminded her of.  His hair was neatly trimmed, including the light fuzz circling his mouth and chin.  He gave her a bigger smile with his thanks…
           
            For once Dana was not sure of herself and didn’t trust how she was feeling at the moment.  His closeness and male scent was overwhelming in a pleasing kind of way.  His smooth, savvy voice was absorbing on the phone, and now it was more spellbinding with a face to add to it.  Every nerve in her body was longing with desire and she was becoming too comfortable and relaxed.  Is this what it means to be in a vulnerable state? She wondered…    
 
            He leaned down and pulled up a medium-sized gold gift bag with red hearts. “This is for you.” 
           
            Caught completely by surprise, she said, “Thank you, Fletcher, but I wasn’t expecting anything, especially with this being so last minute.  I didn’t get you anything.”
           
            “You didn’t have to. You being my date is a gift within itself; besides, Valentine’s Day is for the ladies.  And a man gets a kick out of seeing his lady happy, right fellows?” 
 
The men agreed as she processed his last remark, seeing his lady happy.  Did he think because she accepted the committee’s decision and he’d bought her some inexpensive trinket that she was his lady? Really, I don’t think so.  She began to remove the tissue paper to see what he’d actually bought. The expression on her face and the perfect O shape her dark red lips formed, said she was caught by a sudden surprise, again.
           
            Gazing into his dreamy, dark eyes which held her gaze, she said, “Fletcher, I don’t know what to say, this is so unexpected.”  She leaned over and kissed his lips, leaving her ruby red lipstick behind.  Reaching up to wipe it off, he caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. Tingling sparks traveled all the way down her spine to her candy dish, which caused her to cross her legs as if everyone knew the impact his kiss had.
 
“Dana, he truly wanted you to have a nice Valentine’s Day.”  She silently agreed as her eyes followed his lean physique in the line.  Not only was he cute, he smelled and looked good in his clothes; he was thoughtful and considerate.  He actually took time to read her profile to learn what she liked and she was sure he paid attention to her dislikes, as well.  What was she going to do about Fletcher Morrison? He was not the one!
 
            “Dana, would you like to dance?” They were playing good stepping music.
           
            “Sure, let’s see what cha got, Bro. Fletcher.”
           
            “Is that a challenge, Sis. Dana?” 
 
She smiled and dropped her little red purse in her gift bag. Fletcher took her hand and they stepped in perfect harmony, matching each other’s steps onto the dance floor.  He threw in a little cha-cha-cha with her keeping up with his every move.  “Very good, Sis. Dana.” 
           
            “Thank you, Bro. Fletcher.” She rewarded him with her refreshing smile, and they got in step with the group. After the second line dance, the pace was picked up with an upbeat song that had the dancers shedding sweaters, jackets, and heels. She was glad she chose the right shoes for dancing.
 
            Fletcher was still holding Dana’s hand as they waited in the lobby with some of the other couples who had valet service. Everyone was talking about the wonderful time they’d had agreeing that the committee needed to be commended for their excellent planning.  He didn’t know about the others, but he hated that the evening had come to an end and secretly prayed this wouldn’t be the first and final date for them.  She was truly amazing and a joy to be with.  Not one time did she show that shallow side she’d been accused of possessing.  Now he needed to man up and ask her out to dinner or a movie for tomorrow night. Then, too, maybe he should keep it at a slow pace and just wait for them to be together again at the Sunday social.  Sadly, he saw the attendant pull her car up.
           
            “My car is here,” announced Dana as she glanced up at him.  She didn’t want to say so, but she was not ready to leave him.  Needless to say, she was raised as a prim and proper lady, and that was not the behavior she was to exhibit.  But she did remember what her two advisors had said.  So she did the next best thing, “Fletcher, I had a wonderful time tonight, and thank you, again, for my lovely gifts.  That was so sweet of you.  Maybe we can do this again sometime, you have my number.”
           
            He wanted to catch his flip-flopping heart before it jumped right out of his body.  She’d given him the okay to ask her out.  “Dana, it was my pleasure, and I’m happy you like your gifts.  I also had a fabulous time tonight and if you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow, maybe we can have dinner and take in a movie.”  He held his breath, awaiting her answer.
           
            “That sounds nice, Fletcher. I do have a few routine things to take care of, so after six will be good for me.”
 
Grinning like he’d just won the lottery, he told her after six would be great, but that he’d still give her a call. They embraced and exchanged kisses on the cheek.  He paid the attendant with a little something extra and opened her door. They said good night with him wishing for a real good night kiss from her, mentally promising himself it would happen the next time…
           
            Fletcher picked up his cell three times to call Dana. If nothing else, he could use the excuse that he was just making sure she arrived home safely. Then he thought that sounded dumb in Allanville, Texas.  He then thought of a better idea which would be best due to the time. He could send a text, instead. 
Just as Dana was about to put her cell away after ordering a special gift for him, she received a text. A smile surfaced as she read it: Makin sure u arriv saf / fletch… Good, she was on his mind as well, she thought.
 
She replied: safely in bed, thanks for being so thoughtful and sweet, again / good night. 
 
Fluffing their pillows, they both drifted off to sleep thinking of each other and their first and next date, which would truly be a surprise for him. ♥

Download Now...
W Parks Brigham would like to invite you into her world of women fiction with romance. She has penned thirteen of the sweetest tales with plus size women of all ages as the heroine, touching your every emotion. Her heroines are beautiful and sophisticated with high self-esteem. They are not looking for a man to validate their worth…just love them for who they are. Drama, the element of surprise with twists and turns, and of course sweet romance are featured in each story.
FB Author W Parks Brigham
Website: http://www.wparksbrigham.com/
W Parks Brigham Author Page: www.amazon.com./-/e/B00G4IPAMU

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20 Days of Love, Cheryl...

ISBN-10: 098471104X
ISBN-13: 978-0984711048
ASIN: B0778P6N72
Genre: Contemporary Fiction
In this journey into second-chance love, author Cheryl Robinson invites us to ponder whether we would rekindle a romance with someone who had broken a promise to forsake all others.
 
Meet Ray and Sarita Saint. In 1987, they pledged to love, honor, and cherish each other until death. When Ray goes missing a year later, Sarita wonders whether he’s dead or alive. While she was dreaming of their happily ever after, Ray was exploring greener pastures, a new relationship. Sarita—a virgin until marriage—took her vows seriously and believed Ray did, too. Instead, he left their marriage and their life in Detroit to reinvent himself. Sarita always held out hope that he would return one day. And he does. It’s twenty-seven years later, and Ray is determined to find his one true love. What he discovers has him question everything he thought he knew about Sarita, as well as himself. Sarita
NOVEMBER 19, 1988
 
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” I say from behind the wheel of my Sunbird as I make the sign of the cross.

It’s seven in the morning. I’m sitting in my car outside Ray’s mom’s house, a well-kept, red-brick fourplex on the corner of Santa Clara and Stoepel. Down from Tradewinds, the liquor store where Ray said his mom buys her alcohol and cigarettes. Ray loves that I don’t drink or smoke the way Miss King does. Ray loves me. And he’s everything to me. I hope nothing’s happened to him. Please, don’t let him have been carjacked. Then, it’ll be my fault because he didn’t even ask for that car. His Renault Alliance was old and always in the shop, and I wanted him to have something reliable. Because I love him and I can afford the car note.

I work at GM. So.
I have an MBA. Doesn’t matter.
I’m a CPA. Irrelevant.
I’m a wife. Ray Saint’s wife. And he’s missing.
My husband is missing on our first wedding anniversary.

“Lord, please lead me to him.” I wipe my tears away, and I take a few deep breaths. I thought about going to the morgue, but I can’t lose faith that Ray is still alive. So, instead, I came to Miss King’s house. The only relative of Ray’s that I know. I knew Paw Paw, Ray’s grandfather, but he passed away in August, and Ray changed not long after. He got real distant toward me. Death will do that sometimes. Wedge a gap so wide that those on the other side have no choice but to fall through. I refuse to. I hope Ray didn’t hurt himself. I keep thinking about what Graham said about mental illness being hereditary. I’m not sure if Ray is mentally ill, but I do know he gets depressed from time to time. I shake the thought from my mind as quickly as it enters. Ray’s fine. He’ll be home soon.

I take a deep breath and stare at the stop sign up ahead. Maybe I should stop. Don’t get out of my car. Don’t go up to that woman’s house. Leave, because something is going on with her, but I haven’t figured out what yet. The only thing Ray told me was that he doesn’t want us associating with her, but he didn’t say why. The one time I met her, shortly after Ray and I got engaged, she was very dry toward me. I also find it odd that Ray has to call her Miss King instead of Mom. Still, I have to let her know that Ray’s missing because she’s his mother, so I attempt to open my car door, but the strong winds blow it shut. I try again, and the same thing happens. I’m pretty sure it’s a sign. I look toward the multifamily home. There’s a wall unit sticking out of the second-floor window. Ray’s mom lives on the first floor, on the Santa Clara side that I’m parked on. On the Stoepel side, there’s a handicap ramp that leads up to another door with two more doorbells. This is where my husband was raised. There isn’t a wall unit on the first floor. Is that why Ray keeps our apartment so cold, even in the winter? Is he trying to make up for those years without air conditioning? I scoot across to the passenger seat and get out, and this time the wind doesn’t interfere. As I trudge against the gusts up to Miss King’s front door, I’m praying for a peaceful interaction with her. My armpits are sticky, even though the temperature is in the low thirties.

There are two doorbells, and I’m not sure which to ring. Logically, the one on top should be for the upper, so I ring the bottom one, and then I wait. She’s probably asleep, but this is important, so I ring the doorbell two more times, and not long after hear a woman shout, “If you not from Publishing Clearing House, don’t be ringin’ my damn doorbell this early.”

Miss King yanks the door open. She’s wearing a sheer, floral nightgown with a plunging neckline that exposes her large breasts. Her waist is small, and her hips are in proportion. I’m sure bodies like hers served as inspiration for the Commodores’ “Brick House.”

“Miss King, I’m so sorry to bother you—”

“And who are you?”

“Sarita Saint, your son’s wife,” I say matter-of-factly.

Miss King rests the side of her arm against the door, crosses her bare feet, and wiggles her toes, which are sparkling with pink glitter. She gives me the once-over, and then says, “You don’t look like her. Even though I only saw the thing once.” She puts her cigarette to her mouth, takes a long drag, and blows the smoke off to the side, into the hallway. “Did you put on some weight? ’Bout two pounds? And lettin’ your hair grow out?” She shakes her head and chuckles. “None of that’s gonna keep my son because he just like his daddy. They eyes roam so much I’m surprised they not crossed. What’s so important that you gotta be ringin’ my bell at seven in the damn mornin’? And where is Ray? Because if he told you he was over here, he a damn lie.”

“He’s missing, Miss King.” My voice is trembling from cold, fear of what may have happened to him, and my anger at being called a “thing” by my mother-in-law. “Have you seen or heard from him?”

Her expression is empty. She shakes her head and then grins and takes another long drag of her cigarette. “He done left your ass, girl. That’s all it is. If that boy ain’t just like his daddy, I swear.” She bursts out in laughter.

I shake my head. “No, he didn’t leave me. Something’s happened…
Cheryl Robinson has the Until Ray trilogy set in her beloved hometown of Detroit, Michigan. Cheryl currently resides in Central Florida. She has a Bachelor of Science degree from Wayne State University. This is her eleventh book. Connect Socially
Website: http://untilraytrilogy.com
Facebook:  Facebook.com/untilraytrilogy.com
Purchase Links
Ebook: http://a.co/iLA5iqA
Amazon Paperback: http://a.co/ehNCP35 Thanks for joining us for another 20 Days of Love! Please leave a comment below. I would love to hear from you!
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