Raven St. Pierre's Blog, page 3
January 21, 2014
New Release!!!
Coming February 1st, 2014!!!!
*****:::Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob:::*****
African-American/Urban Romance/Women’s Fiction
Standalone novel; 495 pages
With the unbearably sexy Sinclair brothers living right next door, Shanelle Harper never stood a chance…..
The sudden death of Shanelle’s father lures her back to the small town she thought she escaped years ago. Returning to Barrow County, Georgia means living under her mother’s roof again, although only to help make ends meet. Frustrated and seeking comfort following her loss, Shanelle quickly falls back into an old habit she thought she kicked years ago – a neighbor by the name of Abraham Lorenzo Sinclair, more affectionately known as “Zo”. Realizing that her feelings for him were practically woven into her DNA, Shan throws caution to the wind and jumps in headfirst – no matter how many warnings and signals her intuition has fired off.
The next six years of Shanelle’s life are a whirlwind of sex, lies, and betrayals that will leave your mind reeling from one enthralling chapter to the next. Family secrets, scandalous affairs, and enough sexual heat to ignite a fire……Shanelle’s emotionally charged story has it all.
In the end, will Zo turn out to be the love of Shan’s life? Her biggest regret? Or will she find love and affection in the arms of someone that neither she nor Zo would’ve ever expected?
***Check out an excerpt of this novel on my blog! youaresowrite.wordpress.com or right here on Goodreads!!***
http://youaresowrite.wordpress.com/20...
*****:::Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob:::*****
African-American/Urban Romance/Women’s Fiction
Standalone novel; 495 pages
With the unbearably sexy Sinclair brothers living right next door, Shanelle Harper never stood a chance…..
The sudden death of Shanelle’s father lures her back to the small town she thought she escaped years ago. Returning to Barrow County, Georgia means living under her mother’s roof again, although only to help make ends meet. Frustrated and seeking comfort following her loss, Shanelle quickly falls back into an old habit she thought she kicked years ago – a neighbor by the name of Abraham Lorenzo Sinclair, more affectionately known as “Zo”. Realizing that her feelings for him were practically woven into her DNA, Shan throws caution to the wind and jumps in headfirst – no matter how many warnings and signals her intuition has fired off.
The next six years of Shanelle’s life are a whirlwind of sex, lies, and betrayals that will leave your mind reeling from one enthralling chapter to the next. Family secrets, scandalous affairs, and enough sexual heat to ignite a fire……Shanelle’s emotionally charged story has it all.
In the end, will Zo turn out to be the love of Shan’s life? Her biggest regret? Or will she find love and affection in the arms of someone that neither she nor Zo would’ve ever expected?
***Check out an excerpt of this novel on my blog! youaresowrite.wordpress.com or right here on Goodreads!!***
http://youaresowrite.wordpress.com/20...
January 6, 2014
Die Enormous
“I’d rather die enormous, than live dormant.” ~Jay-Z
Over the years, I’ve gone through somewhat of a metamorphosis. I instantly just thought of Franz Kafka’s disgusting allegorical visuals, but that’s not quite what I mean.
Back in the day, I was an extreme introvert. I’m still not exactly a social butterfly, but only because I’ve come to realize that being selective when it comes to friendship keeps down the riffraff. It’s more of a decided defense mechanism than anything else, but I digress. Coming from being a shy little girl to the strong, self-confident woman that I am today was not an overnight change. Today, I decided to reflect on how those changes came about.
I love lists. I’ve even posted a few in my blog over the past few months. They’re easier to digest, concise, and effective. So, I’ve compiled a list that breaks down some of the tactics, practices and beliefs that I've adopted that have helped me transform over the years.
1) Learn to live for YOU…..not everyone else.
It’s hard for us to accept that we can’t always make everyone around us happy, but it’s the cold, hard truth; pleasing everyone around you is an impossibility. For that reason, when faced with the decision of doing what works for you and doing what works for others, you should win that toss-up every time. Disclaimer: I’m not promoting selfishness, but I am promoting self-awareness. Be aware of what sacrifices you are and are NOT willing to make for someone else’s happiness.
2) “He who says he can, and he who says he can’t, are usually both right.” ~Confucius~
Found this quote yesterday and it spoke to me instantly! Truer words have never been spoken. We have to move past a place of doubt to a place of belief in our own capabilities. We can literally…..LITERALLY do anything that we put our minds to (as long as our goals don’t involve defying the laws of physics and all that jazz. Be realistic.) I don’t care if EVERYONE you share your dreams with tells you that you’re crazy. They’re only right if you let them be, which brings me to my next point
3) You can’t tell everyone where you’re going.
I heard a quote somewhere that went something like “Don’t go to the hardware store expecting to buy milk”. Abstract, I know, but it’s really quite profound. What I took from it is that you can’t go to people who are notoriously unsupportive looking for support. If you’re surrounded by dream killers, expect them to try to kill your dreams too. Sometimes, you have to keep your journey and destination to yourself to avoid being discouraged.
4) You’re not really successful until you’ve taught someone else to do what you do.
I think it’s an abomination to learn a skill, identify all the stumbling blocks and shortcuts, achieve success…….and then keep alllllllll that knowledge and insight to yourself. Who does that!?!? If I figure something out that works, I can’t WAIT to tell people how I did it. I’m a firm believer in bringing other people up with me and helping them learn to become self-sufficient to the point that they too can help others achieve their goals. Remember where you came from. Whether you did it all on your own, or you had help along the way, you understand what I’m saying here.
5) Think it true.
This is my last point (not because I don’t have more to say, but because I don’t want you to think I’m rambling). Set your mind on where you’re going, not where you’ve been, or even where you are today. I watched this documentary on Netflix called “The Secret” (pretty sure it’s on YouTube too) that really, REALLY changed my life. It changed the way I think entirely. I began to envision myself as a success and achieving my goals, and what I found is this: it doesn’t have to be some big mystical event, but once you focus on your goals, you’re more aware of staying the course. After watching the film and letting it sink in, I was less easily distracted by outside interference, more motivated to work, and more optimistic – all factors that directly relate to being successful.
That’s it for now, but I’m definitely interested in what others have to say! Feel free to add to the list or give me your feedback! Also, if you’ve seen the film, what’d you think?
~Raven
Over the years, I’ve gone through somewhat of a metamorphosis. I instantly just thought of Franz Kafka’s disgusting allegorical visuals, but that’s not quite what I mean.
Back in the day, I was an extreme introvert. I’m still not exactly a social butterfly, but only because I’ve come to realize that being selective when it comes to friendship keeps down the riffraff. It’s more of a decided defense mechanism than anything else, but I digress. Coming from being a shy little girl to the strong, self-confident woman that I am today was not an overnight change. Today, I decided to reflect on how those changes came about.
I love lists. I’ve even posted a few in my blog over the past few months. They’re easier to digest, concise, and effective. So, I’ve compiled a list that breaks down some of the tactics, practices and beliefs that I've adopted that have helped me transform over the years.
1) Learn to live for YOU…..not everyone else.
It’s hard for us to accept that we can’t always make everyone around us happy, but it’s the cold, hard truth; pleasing everyone around you is an impossibility. For that reason, when faced with the decision of doing what works for you and doing what works for others, you should win that toss-up every time. Disclaimer: I’m not promoting selfishness, but I am promoting self-awareness. Be aware of what sacrifices you are and are NOT willing to make for someone else’s happiness.
2) “He who says he can, and he who says he can’t, are usually both right.” ~Confucius~
Found this quote yesterday and it spoke to me instantly! Truer words have never been spoken. We have to move past a place of doubt to a place of belief in our own capabilities. We can literally…..LITERALLY do anything that we put our minds to (as long as our goals don’t involve defying the laws of physics and all that jazz. Be realistic.) I don’t care if EVERYONE you share your dreams with tells you that you’re crazy. They’re only right if you let them be, which brings me to my next point
3) You can’t tell everyone where you’re going.
I heard a quote somewhere that went something like “Don’t go to the hardware store expecting to buy milk”. Abstract, I know, but it’s really quite profound. What I took from it is that you can’t go to people who are notoriously unsupportive looking for support. If you’re surrounded by dream killers, expect them to try to kill your dreams too. Sometimes, you have to keep your journey and destination to yourself to avoid being discouraged.
4) You’re not really successful until you’ve taught someone else to do what you do.
I think it’s an abomination to learn a skill, identify all the stumbling blocks and shortcuts, achieve success…….and then keep alllllllll that knowledge and insight to yourself. Who does that!?!? If I figure something out that works, I can’t WAIT to tell people how I did it. I’m a firm believer in bringing other people up with me and helping them learn to become self-sufficient to the point that they too can help others achieve their goals. Remember where you came from. Whether you did it all on your own, or you had help along the way, you understand what I’m saying here.
5) Think it true.
This is my last point (not because I don’t have more to say, but because I don’t want you to think I’m rambling). Set your mind on where you’re going, not where you’ve been, or even where you are today. I watched this documentary on Netflix called “The Secret” (pretty sure it’s on YouTube too) that really, REALLY changed my life. It changed the way I think entirely. I began to envision myself as a success and achieving my goals, and what I found is this: it doesn’t have to be some big mystical event, but once you focus on your goals, you’re more aware of staying the course. After watching the film and letting it sink in, I was less easily distracted by outside interference, more motivated to work, and more optimistic – all factors that directly relate to being successful.
That’s it for now, but I’m definitely interested in what others have to say! Feel free to add to the list or give me your feedback! Also, if you’ve seen the film, what’d you think?
~Raven
January 3, 2014
They ALL Do This Stuff......Right?
Okay, so I’m a mom of three, ranging from ages 6 to 9. Anyone with children knows that you CANNOT always filter what they say or catch them before they do something completely embarrassing out in public. Right? Right. So, to make moms and dads everywhere feel just a little bit better about their own children’s buffoonery, I’ve decided to share a few of my kids’ slip ups and tomfoolery that I’ve had the “pleasure” of witnessing over the years. Enjoy! And feel free to share some of your own experiences too in the comment section below. I'd love to hear them!
1) “Mommy? Do midgets have to drive minivans?”
2) My son to the cashier at a store that I am NEVER VISITING AGAIN: “Heyyyy…..where’d you get that moustache? My dad has one of those!”
3) “Mommyyyyy…….my butt’s sick”
4) At the doc’s with my oldest (age 3 at the time), “Mommy! That lady looks like ‘Big Momma’s House’!”
5) My youngest walked up to a girl whooooooo……mmmmmm…….isn’t the most attractive girl in the world? Yeah, we’ll say it like that. After tapping the girl on the leg, she asks, “What happened to your face?”
6) “Why do some men have boobs too?”
7) “I don’t wanna have a wife. It looks like too much work.”
8) “Do babies come from your bellybutton?” Followed up with the question, “Well how do they get in there?”
9) “Mommy? What are those ‘packets’ boys have behind their privates?”
10) Sniffing random chairs when people would get up from them
11) My oldest sleepwalks. She woke up from a dead sleep, came into my bedroom at 2 a.m., slaps my husband on the leg and yells, “Tag! You’re it!" Once we stopped laughing, we got her back to bed.
12) Right after a bath, my youngest (2 at the time) dug her Winnie the Pooh lifejacket out of the closet and proceeded to sit in the toilet while wearing it – fully clothed. I walked in to find her with her arms propped up on the seat like she was in a hot tub.
13) At age 2, my son was bathing in the tub in my bedroom while I was on my laptop writing at the vanity. I looked up at the precise moment that he’s placing a log of his own feces on the edge of the tub. I’m still bitter about that…..
14) For a month straight, my son would scale the stones of our fireplace pretending to be Spiderman.
15) I got a call from the school a couple months ago from the principal, informing me that my son (age 7 now) was in the clinic complaining that his heart stopped beating a few times in class and he needed me to come take him to the doctor.
Out of the mouths of babes, I guess! Remember to comment or share!!
Raven ~
1) “Mommy? Do midgets have to drive minivans?”
2) My son to the cashier at a store that I am NEVER VISITING AGAIN: “Heyyyy…..where’d you get that moustache? My dad has one of those!”
3) “Mommyyyyy…….my butt’s sick”
4) At the doc’s with my oldest (age 3 at the time), “Mommy! That lady looks like ‘Big Momma’s House’!”
5) My youngest walked up to a girl whooooooo……mmmmmm…….isn’t the most attractive girl in the world? Yeah, we’ll say it like that. After tapping the girl on the leg, she asks, “What happened to your face?”
6) “Why do some men have boobs too?”
7) “I don’t wanna have a wife. It looks like too much work.”
8) “Do babies come from your bellybutton?” Followed up with the question, “Well how do they get in there?”
9) “Mommy? What are those ‘packets’ boys have behind their privates?”
10) Sniffing random chairs when people would get up from them
11) My oldest sleepwalks. She woke up from a dead sleep, came into my bedroom at 2 a.m., slaps my husband on the leg and yells, “Tag! You’re it!" Once we stopped laughing, we got her back to bed.
12) Right after a bath, my youngest (2 at the time) dug her Winnie the Pooh lifejacket out of the closet and proceeded to sit in the toilet while wearing it – fully clothed. I walked in to find her with her arms propped up on the seat like she was in a hot tub.
13) At age 2, my son was bathing in the tub in my bedroom while I was on my laptop writing at the vanity. I looked up at the precise moment that he’s placing a log of his own feces on the edge of the tub. I’m still bitter about that…..
14) For a month straight, my son would scale the stones of our fireplace pretending to be Spiderman.
15) I got a call from the school a couple months ago from the principal, informing me that my son (age 7 now) was in the clinic complaining that his heart stopped beating a few times in class and he needed me to come take him to the doctor.
Out of the mouths of babes, I guess! Remember to comment or share!!
Raven ~
January 1, 2014
We Should Have Had More Time.....
For a number of reasons, I’ve been holding on to this particular post for quite some time. When I started blogging not too long ago, I didn't want to only blog about writing or my books because there is sooooo much more to me than that. That part of my life is really secondary in the big scheme of things. I'm a real woman, with real problems, and I go through real situations just like everyone else, which is why I always strive to keep it one hundred ALL the time. However, I simply didn’t have it in me to make public this deeply personal memory that is still a very sensitive topic of conversation for me to this day. A close friend was the one who inspired me to be “completely open”, so I'm about to take her advice for a test drive.....here goes.
My last words to her were so meaningless that I can’t even recall what they were. It was late on a Tuesday and I was straightening up my house while balancing the phone on my shoulder as we talked. She wasn’t feeling well, but that wasn’t out of the norm, so I assumed she’d be back to herself in a few days. Upset stomach. Cold sweats. “Do you think it’s your ulcer acting up again?” I asked at some point, to which she answered, “That’s what I’m thinking, but…….I just don’t know.” In hindsight, I should’ve heard that something was different in her tone when she said that. It was like she knew something wasn’t right, but didn’t want to alarm me or didn’t want to admit it even to herself. We chatted a little while longer, even laughed a bit, and then her phone dropped the call mid-conversation. As I mentioned, I was busy with my domestics and thought it’d just be easier to call her back later when we were both settled. Thinking back, I struggle with so much guilt for not trying to get her back on the line then, but remember…..I thought we had more time.
While her evening SHOULD have ended with a kiss to each of her sons’ foreheads and a sleepy conversation beside her husband in bed, instead she spent this night in a cold, unfamiliar hospital, conscious for only a while before slipping into a coma that she’d never wake up from. Days passed. I remember standing by her bedside thinking – “Any minute now, you’re gonna wake up, and we’re gonna get to talk about how crazy this has all been.” I imagined the way the conversation would go and everything. To me, she had way too much fight in her for this to be the end. Trust me, we’d fought with each other enough for me to know that she doesn’t give up easily. Her hand was still warm when I held it, but machines were the only thing keeping her here with us. This wasn’t what she wanted.
A couple weeks before this sudden decline, there were two key conversations that took place between us that, again, should have let me know that she felt this coming. First, she showed me her life insurance papers and said that she was going to be changing her will, leaving her two most precious gifts (her sons) in my possession if something were to happen to her and her husband both. Second, she called one afternoon with sadness in her voice as she expressed a sudden fear of dying after reading a Facebook post in a lupus awareness group that she’d joined. A fellow member whom she conversed with often, passed away suddenly, leaving my sister all too aware of how fragile life can be. “I’m afraid that this will happen to me,” she said, choking back a tear or two.
As the chance of her waking up and coming back to us seemed to drift further and further away, all I could think about was what a tragedy it was that she’d brought two beautiful boys into the world and would never get to see them become men. Never get to see them become husbands, fathers, and would never get to hold her grandchildren. An absolute tragedy.
On a cold morning in February, surrounded by so much love and sadness, she slipped away quietly on her 33rd birthday. Losing my sister is one loss that I will NEVER get over. It took months to stop reaching for the phone when something funny, or sad, or random would cross my mind. I’d constantly have to relive the realization that she isn’t here anymore. In dreams, she’d come to me and we’d talk and laugh and hug, but waking up brought back the sting of her death morning after morning. I found solace in John Mayer’s “Dreaming with a Broken Heart”; I know he was talking about romantic love, but the words fit my state of mind so well.
Almost two years have passed and it still hurts like it did on day one. I should have called back. I should have listened for the deeper meaning in our last conversations. I just should’ve known. Somehow it all went over my head and I ended up saying my final “I love you” while she lie unconscious in a hospital bed. I guess what I’m trying to say is, make the most of the chances that you get to tell the ones closest to you how you feel while they’re still here. No matter how much time we THINK we should have to say and do what we need to, the bottom line is, our days here are numbered. So, because no one can predict the future or alter the past, the best time to say ‘I love you’…..is right now.
As always, feel free to share your thoughts.
God bless,
Raven
My last words to her were so meaningless that I can’t even recall what they were. It was late on a Tuesday and I was straightening up my house while balancing the phone on my shoulder as we talked. She wasn’t feeling well, but that wasn’t out of the norm, so I assumed she’d be back to herself in a few days. Upset stomach. Cold sweats. “Do you think it’s your ulcer acting up again?” I asked at some point, to which she answered, “That’s what I’m thinking, but…….I just don’t know.” In hindsight, I should’ve heard that something was different in her tone when she said that. It was like she knew something wasn’t right, but didn’t want to alarm me or didn’t want to admit it even to herself. We chatted a little while longer, even laughed a bit, and then her phone dropped the call mid-conversation. As I mentioned, I was busy with my domestics and thought it’d just be easier to call her back later when we were both settled. Thinking back, I struggle with so much guilt for not trying to get her back on the line then, but remember…..I thought we had more time.
While her evening SHOULD have ended with a kiss to each of her sons’ foreheads and a sleepy conversation beside her husband in bed, instead she spent this night in a cold, unfamiliar hospital, conscious for only a while before slipping into a coma that she’d never wake up from. Days passed. I remember standing by her bedside thinking – “Any minute now, you’re gonna wake up, and we’re gonna get to talk about how crazy this has all been.” I imagined the way the conversation would go and everything. To me, she had way too much fight in her for this to be the end. Trust me, we’d fought with each other enough for me to know that she doesn’t give up easily. Her hand was still warm when I held it, but machines were the only thing keeping her here with us. This wasn’t what she wanted.
A couple weeks before this sudden decline, there were two key conversations that took place between us that, again, should have let me know that she felt this coming. First, she showed me her life insurance papers and said that she was going to be changing her will, leaving her two most precious gifts (her sons) in my possession if something were to happen to her and her husband both. Second, she called one afternoon with sadness in her voice as she expressed a sudden fear of dying after reading a Facebook post in a lupus awareness group that she’d joined. A fellow member whom she conversed with often, passed away suddenly, leaving my sister all too aware of how fragile life can be. “I’m afraid that this will happen to me,” she said, choking back a tear or two.
As the chance of her waking up and coming back to us seemed to drift further and further away, all I could think about was what a tragedy it was that she’d brought two beautiful boys into the world and would never get to see them become men. Never get to see them become husbands, fathers, and would never get to hold her grandchildren. An absolute tragedy.
On a cold morning in February, surrounded by so much love and sadness, she slipped away quietly on her 33rd birthday. Losing my sister is one loss that I will NEVER get over. It took months to stop reaching for the phone when something funny, or sad, or random would cross my mind. I’d constantly have to relive the realization that she isn’t here anymore. In dreams, she’d come to me and we’d talk and laugh and hug, but waking up brought back the sting of her death morning after morning. I found solace in John Mayer’s “Dreaming with a Broken Heart”; I know he was talking about romantic love, but the words fit my state of mind so well.
Almost two years have passed and it still hurts like it did on day one. I should have called back. I should have listened for the deeper meaning in our last conversations. I just should’ve known. Somehow it all went over my head and I ended up saying my final “I love you” while she lie unconscious in a hospital bed. I guess what I’m trying to say is, make the most of the chances that you get to tell the ones closest to you how you feel while they’re still here. No matter how much time we THINK we should have to say and do what we need to, the bottom line is, our days here are numbered. So, because no one can predict the future or alter the past, the best time to say ‘I love you’…..is right now.
As always, feel free to share your thoughts.
God bless,
Raven
December 19, 2013
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.....
:::::Warning! This post is for the 18+ crowd ONLY::::::
Okay, time to step out of my comfort zone and share a scene from my upcoming standalone novel, ‘Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob’. Despite the title, there’s nothing even REMOTELY religious about this book, so just let go of that notion now before you go any further.
At the start of the book, Shanelle is a 21 year-old woman who’s just moved back home to help her struggling mother make ends meet. By the time you reach the end, 490 pages later, she’s 28 and her life has totally changed. I won’t give away too many details, but her story is definitely one that will keep you wondering what the heck is gonna happen next between Shan and the infamous Sinclair brothers. I’m beginning to think that I enjoy the art of writing messy characters/plots, but I can’t help it!
Unlike the other titles that I’ve released to date, this particular story has an all African-American character lineup. I like to switch it up, letting my heroines sample EVERY flavor of the rainbow. Sometimes it’s Asian, sometimes it’s Hispanic, sometimes it’s Native-American – just depends on my mood. This time, as it turns out, the object(s) of her affection happen to be strong, complex, incredibly sexy, African-American men.
I’m planning to release this one in between books 2 and 3 of the ‘Free Falling’ series just to break up the monotony a bit. Feel free to comment and ask questions! Hope you enjoy it! If you don’t, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF! LOL Just kidding.
*****
Complete silence. I saw his back tense as he shook his head, wondering why I was bringing all this up now after so much time had passed, but I had my reasons. Of everything that was wrong with my life, namely the newly severed tie with my mother, my lost relationship with him was the only thing I could attack head on. I’d said all I could say to my mom, but there were still a few things that I felt Zo needed to hear.
After several seconds, he turned and looked me in my eye and my breath caught in my throat, instantly leaving me to regret making such a request. My emotions came flooding down and it took more effort than I care to admit to hold my composure. I missed him, still loved him, and found myself constantly fighting back feelings of jealousy knowing that he was occupying his time with other women. I clenched my fists and pretended not to care as much as I did, but I was sure he knew better.
“I’m listening,” he breathed casually.
I exhaled too. “I just want to understand, Zo. What was it that kept you from loving me?”
He looked at the ceiling and shook his head in exasperation. “Who says I never loved you?”
The question made my heart skip a beat. “Your actions say it.”
“Well then maybe you’re just not as observant as you think, because I did.”
He was lying and I knew it. A tear welled in the corner of my eye.
“Don’t. Don’t do that,” I said quietly. “It’s more hurtful to lie about it; just be straight up.” Realizing that I knew the truth, he lowered his head.
When he heard me sniff, we locked eyes again. “I know you think I planned it this way all along, Shan, but I didn’t.”
I heard his words, but they did nothing to soften the blow. It still didn’t make sense to me that I could feel all of these emotions toward a man who felt absolutely nothing for me. Nothing. How could I feel so full while he stared back with nothing but emptiness in his eyes? This broke what was left of my tattered heart.
Tear after tear fell and I didn’t bother trying to quench them. For weeks now, I’d held in all the hurt from finding out the truth about my father, all the rejection from Zo, and it started to spill out now. I was too broken to try to stop it. I pulled my hands to my face, attempting to hide from Zo and took a step toward the garage exit to make a getaway. I wasn’t ashamed for him to see me cry, but it wouldn’t do any good anyway, so why stand here with him watching me?
A warm pair of hands touched my shoulders and I was forced to stand in place, preventing me from running away. All I could do was shake my head in protest when words wouldn’t come out. I didn’t want him to touch me; that would only make it hurt more when he let me go again. Filled with desperation, I attempted to pull away for a second time and choked out a sob when I opened my eyes and looked at him. Why couldn’t I make him love me? What was it that I did, or didn’t do, that kept him just out of my reach? Secretly, I hated myself for not being enough. As badly as I wanted to, I couldn’t change him.
I stared at Zo, a mixture of love and hatred spewing from my soul with each tear that fell. I shivered watching him as he struggled to figure out why he, of all people, had made such an impression on my heart. I’m sure girls have been infatuated with him, maybe some had real feelings for him too, but no one had ever loved him like I did. I was sure of that. He stared with confusion in his eyes and I wished with everything in me that he would finally get it. However, I knew it was useless. To him, I was still harboring some childhood crush that I was mistaking for more. But he was so wrong about that.
Unexpectedly, he leaned in and embraced me. It was gentle and tender which made me cringe. Here he was again giving me himself halfway just to appease me. I hated it. Maybe even hated him. I gasped and leaned away when he pressed his lips to mine. Why was he doing this to me? Just because he could? Playing with my emotions was worse than not reciprocating them. It was downright cruel.
“Come on,” he breathed against my lips in a whisper.
I shook my head no, but didn’t fight against him as hard as I should have. I knew what he was doing. He saw an opening, a weakness, and was getting ready to exploit it because he knew that I wasn’t strong enough to tell him no. Without asking, or even considering that leading me on even further than he already had, Zo took my hand and led be through the back door, into his house. Beside his bed, he kissed the side of my neck down my shoulder to my bra strap before laying me down. This was a first. Usually it was outside in the garage, or around at the back of the house, once in a motel even, but never in his bed.
I stared as he pulled off his wife-beater and oil-stained jeans that he always worked in. Hastily, before I could come to my senses, he pulled down my shorts and panties, carelessly tossing them onto his dresser alongside a half-empty bottle of coke and the trophy he earned in high school when they won the state championship. I couldn’t breathe, both from crying and from trying to find my voice to stop him. I couldn’t do this again – get lost in him like I always do. The weight of his body quickly covered me, the scent from his sweat and the faint hint of soap on his skin. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. I wanted this and hated that I was this willing to give myself to him knowing that he didn’t deserve it.
Zo tasted my neck and then eased himself between my thighs where the heat from his shaft made me wet like usual and he’d barely touched me yet. When he slammed his way inside, I was grateful that no one else was home because I yelled out so loudly that I wasn’t sure my mother hadn’t heard me from next door.
Waves of emotion washed over me and I couldn’t grasp onto a single one as they pummeled my senses. One second I was in heaven, the next this felt more like torture. When I lapsed and allowed myself to enjoy our tryst, I was quickly reminded that when it was all over, he’d go back to pretending like I meant nothing – because that was the cold hard truth; I didn’t mean anything to him.
I wouldn’t let myself hold him – the less we touched the easier the disconnect would be afterward. Instead, I gripped the headboard to his bed while he had his way with me and made love to my body like it still belonged to him. I don’t know, maybe it did. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that it didn’t feel good, but I couldn’t lie to myself or to him. He knew me better than I knew myself.
I made the mistake of opening my eyes and looking at him which was all he needed to pinpoint how to break me. He reached up and pulled one of my hands away from the wooden post of his bed and kissed the center of my palm and each finger one by one as the strong façade I’d cast up began to fall. I felt the slight ease of tension in my other hand as I involuntarily removed it from the other bedpost and gripped his back. Once I began to kiss him back he knew he had me.
“Stop fighting it,” he breathed. But what did that mean? Stop protecting myself from his predatory ways? Stop keeping my distance from the one person who’d hurt me the most aside from my mother? Of course I was going to keep fighting.
“I don’t wanna do this,” I whispered, not saying the words sternly enough to
make him believe that I meant them.
“Feels like you want to.”
I closed my eyes and squirmed a little. What we were doing felt 100% wrong and 100% right all at the same time. How could I have been so stupid to let this man know that he alone is my weakness?
“You know why you love me so much?” he whispered, lips to my ear. His hips rose and fell quickly in between my thighs in a stirring motion that left me breathless.
I didn’t respond. I was entranced by him and wasn’t even sure if I could talk anyway.
“Because nobody gives it to you like I can.“ He paused to let a slick smile spread across his face. “Mmm hmm. You love me because this pussy loves me.” He glanced down momentarily to where our bodies connected in the most intimate of ways. He was right, ‘she’ did love him, but it was my hope that one day I would outgrow such feelings. They hadn’t gotten me anywhere but to his bed.
My head was pounding as I tried to cipher through what was real and what was a mirage. I knew he didn’t love me, but it at least felt like he did for now. I allowed myself to go there. Maybe it was the gentle way he pushed my hair away and kissed my face. Maybe it was the way that he looked at me when he made me moan and squirm beneath him. Whatever the cause, I capitalized on the moment and reveled in it. I imagined that I was the one woman in this world that he couldn’t live without. That was what I needed. I needed to believe, even if only for a fleeting moment, that I was loved. I was starving, and having him here on top of me made me feel greedy, like I could go back to being nothing more than a convenient lay for him if that was the only way I could have him. Was I really that desperate? Did I really not hold myself at a higher standard than that? I mean, I’d seen with my own two eyes that Zo had moved on – multiple times – with other women. Was I willing to share him? To share…..this?
“Yessssss!” I yelled as I climaxed, answering this question and celebrating the end of my drought – not just for sex, but for feeling some sort of a connection with someone. I was long overdue for both.
I watched him release and felt him shutter in my hands. As his high came down, his weight rested on me and we lay there kissing long after it was over. We rolled onto our sides and I could still feel him inside of me – limp and spent – but somehow this moment was more satisfying than the deed itself. This kiss. It wasn’t driven by lust; we’d already taken care of that. This kiss was possibly the most real display of emotion he’d given me in a while. It wasn’t to get me to sleep with him. It wasn’t to get back in my good graces. There was no ulterior motive behind it at all which made it that much sweeter.
His lips stopped moving and I opened my eyes to find him already staring at me. He didn’t move anything but his hand to my hip to pull me in a little closer.
There in his bed, in his arms, I made a decision that I was sure would one day be the death of me. I didn’t want to push him away again and made the choice not to, no matter what it would cost me. I didn’t want to just be the girl next door. I wanted to be more than that – even if only someone to fulfill his physical needs while tricking myself into believing that I was getting what I needed emotionally.
*****
That’s it for now! I may or may not post other excerpts at a later date. Haven’t decided yet, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know:)!! Don’t forget to leave a comment!
Raven~
Okay, time to step out of my comfort zone and share a scene from my upcoming standalone novel, ‘Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob’. Despite the title, there’s nothing even REMOTELY religious about this book, so just let go of that notion now before you go any further.
At the start of the book, Shanelle is a 21 year-old woman who’s just moved back home to help her struggling mother make ends meet. By the time you reach the end, 490 pages later, she’s 28 and her life has totally changed. I won’t give away too many details, but her story is definitely one that will keep you wondering what the heck is gonna happen next between Shan and the infamous Sinclair brothers. I’m beginning to think that I enjoy the art of writing messy characters/plots, but I can’t help it!
Unlike the other titles that I’ve released to date, this particular story has an all African-American character lineup. I like to switch it up, letting my heroines sample EVERY flavor of the rainbow. Sometimes it’s Asian, sometimes it’s Hispanic, sometimes it’s Native-American – just depends on my mood. This time, as it turns out, the object(s) of her affection happen to be strong, complex, incredibly sexy, African-American men.
I’m planning to release this one in between books 2 and 3 of the ‘Free Falling’ series just to break up the monotony a bit. Feel free to comment and ask questions! Hope you enjoy it! If you don’t, KEEP IT TO YOURSELF! LOL Just kidding.
*****
Complete silence. I saw his back tense as he shook his head, wondering why I was bringing all this up now after so much time had passed, but I had my reasons. Of everything that was wrong with my life, namely the newly severed tie with my mother, my lost relationship with him was the only thing I could attack head on. I’d said all I could say to my mom, but there were still a few things that I felt Zo needed to hear.
After several seconds, he turned and looked me in my eye and my breath caught in my throat, instantly leaving me to regret making such a request. My emotions came flooding down and it took more effort than I care to admit to hold my composure. I missed him, still loved him, and found myself constantly fighting back feelings of jealousy knowing that he was occupying his time with other women. I clenched my fists and pretended not to care as much as I did, but I was sure he knew better.
“I’m listening,” he breathed casually.
I exhaled too. “I just want to understand, Zo. What was it that kept you from loving me?”
He looked at the ceiling and shook his head in exasperation. “Who says I never loved you?”
The question made my heart skip a beat. “Your actions say it.”
“Well then maybe you’re just not as observant as you think, because I did.”
He was lying and I knew it. A tear welled in the corner of my eye.
“Don’t. Don’t do that,” I said quietly. “It’s more hurtful to lie about it; just be straight up.” Realizing that I knew the truth, he lowered his head.
When he heard me sniff, we locked eyes again. “I know you think I planned it this way all along, Shan, but I didn’t.”
I heard his words, but they did nothing to soften the blow. It still didn’t make sense to me that I could feel all of these emotions toward a man who felt absolutely nothing for me. Nothing. How could I feel so full while he stared back with nothing but emptiness in his eyes? This broke what was left of my tattered heart.
Tear after tear fell and I didn’t bother trying to quench them. For weeks now, I’d held in all the hurt from finding out the truth about my father, all the rejection from Zo, and it started to spill out now. I was too broken to try to stop it. I pulled my hands to my face, attempting to hide from Zo and took a step toward the garage exit to make a getaway. I wasn’t ashamed for him to see me cry, but it wouldn’t do any good anyway, so why stand here with him watching me?
A warm pair of hands touched my shoulders and I was forced to stand in place, preventing me from running away. All I could do was shake my head in protest when words wouldn’t come out. I didn’t want him to touch me; that would only make it hurt more when he let me go again. Filled with desperation, I attempted to pull away for a second time and choked out a sob when I opened my eyes and looked at him. Why couldn’t I make him love me? What was it that I did, or didn’t do, that kept him just out of my reach? Secretly, I hated myself for not being enough. As badly as I wanted to, I couldn’t change him.
I stared at Zo, a mixture of love and hatred spewing from my soul with each tear that fell. I shivered watching him as he struggled to figure out why he, of all people, had made such an impression on my heart. I’m sure girls have been infatuated with him, maybe some had real feelings for him too, but no one had ever loved him like I did. I was sure of that. He stared with confusion in his eyes and I wished with everything in me that he would finally get it. However, I knew it was useless. To him, I was still harboring some childhood crush that I was mistaking for more. But he was so wrong about that.
Unexpectedly, he leaned in and embraced me. It was gentle and tender which made me cringe. Here he was again giving me himself halfway just to appease me. I hated it. Maybe even hated him. I gasped and leaned away when he pressed his lips to mine. Why was he doing this to me? Just because he could? Playing with my emotions was worse than not reciprocating them. It was downright cruel.
“Come on,” he breathed against my lips in a whisper.
I shook my head no, but didn’t fight against him as hard as I should have. I knew what he was doing. He saw an opening, a weakness, and was getting ready to exploit it because he knew that I wasn’t strong enough to tell him no. Without asking, or even considering that leading me on even further than he already had, Zo took my hand and led be through the back door, into his house. Beside his bed, he kissed the side of my neck down my shoulder to my bra strap before laying me down. This was a first. Usually it was outside in the garage, or around at the back of the house, once in a motel even, but never in his bed.
I stared as he pulled off his wife-beater and oil-stained jeans that he always worked in. Hastily, before I could come to my senses, he pulled down my shorts and panties, carelessly tossing them onto his dresser alongside a half-empty bottle of coke and the trophy he earned in high school when they won the state championship. I couldn’t breathe, both from crying and from trying to find my voice to stop him. I couldn’t do this again – get lost in him like I always do. The weight of his body quickly covered me, the scent from his sweat and the faint hint of soap on his skin. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. I wanted this and hated that I was this willing to give myself to him knowing that he didn’t deserve it.
Zo tasted my neck and then eased himself between my thighs where the heat from his shaft made me wet like usual and he’d barely touched me yet. When he slammed his way inside, I was grateful that no one else was home because I yelled out so loudly that I wasn’t sure my mother hadn’t heard me from next door.
Waves of emotion washed over me and I couldn’t grasp onto a single one as they pummeled my senses. One second I was in heaven, the next this felt more like torture. When I lapsed and allowed myself to enjoy our tryst, I was quickly reminded that when it was all over, he’d go back to pretending like I meant nothing – because that was the cold hard truth; I didn’t mean anything to him.
I wouldn’t let myself hold him – the less we touched the easier the disconnect would be afterward. Instead, I gripped the headboard to his bed while he had his way with me and made love to my body like it still belonged to him. I don’t know, maybe it did. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend that it didn’t feel good, but I couldn’t lie to myself or to him. He knew me better than I knew myself.
I made the mistake of opening my eyes and looking at him which was all he needed to pinpoint how to break me. He reached up and pulled one of my hands away from the wooden post of his bed and kissed the center of my palm and each finger one by one as the strong façade I’d cast up began to fall. I felt the slight ease of tension in my other hand as I involuntarily removed it from the other bedpost and gripped his back. Once I began to kiss him back he knew he had me.
“Stop fighting it,” he breathed. But what did that mean? Stop protecting myself from his predatory ways? Stop keeping my distance from the one person who’d hurt me the most aside from my mother? Of course I was going to keep fighting.
“I don’t wanna do this,” I whispered, not saying the words sternly enough to
make him believe that I meant them.
“Feels like you want to.”
I closed my eyes and squirmed a little. What we were doing felt 100% wrong and 100% right all at the same time. How could I have been so stupid to let this man know that he alone is my weakness?
“You know why you love me so much?” he whispered, lips to my ear. His hips rose and fell quickly in between my thighs in a stirring motion that left me breathless.
I didn’t respond. I was entranced by him and wasn’t even sure if I could talk anyway.
“Because nobody gives it to you like I can.“ He paused to let a slick smile spread across his face. “Mmm hmm. You love me because this pussy loves me.” He glanced down momentarily to where our bodies connected in the most intimate of ways. He was right, ‘she’ did love him, but it was my hope that one day I would outgrow such feelings. They hadn’t gotten me anywhere but to his bed.
My head was pounding as I tried to cipher through what was real and what was a mirage. I knew he didn’t love me, but it at least felt like he did for now. I allowed myself to go there. Maybe it was the gentle way he pushed my hair away and kissed my face. Maybe it was the way that he looked at me when he made me moan and squirm beneath him. Whatever the cause, I capitalized on the moment and reveled in it. I imagined that I was the one woman in this world that he couldn’t live without. That was what I needed. I needed to believe, even if only for a fleeting moment, that I was loved. I was starving, and having him here on top of me made me feel greedy, like I could go back to being nothing more than a convenient lay for him if that was the only way I could have him. Was I really that desperate? Did I really not hold myself at a higher standard than that? I mean, I’d seen with my own two eyes that Zo had moved on – multiple times – with other women. Was I willing to share him? To share…..this?
“Yessssss!” I yelled as I climaxed, answering this question and celebrating the end of my drought – not just for sex, but for feeling some sort of a connection with someone. I was long overdue for both.
I watched him release and felt him shutter in my hands. As his high came down, his weight rested on me and we lay there kissing long after it was over. We rolled onto our sides and I could still feel him inside of me – limp and spent – but somehow this moment was more satisfying than the deed itself. This kiss. It wasn’t driven by lust; we’d already taken care of that. This kiss was possibly the most real display of emotion he’d given me in a while. It wasn’t to get me to sleep with him. It wasn’t to get back in my good graces. There was no ulterior motive behind it at all which made it that much sweeter.
His lips stopped moving and I opened my eyes to find him already staring at me. He didn’t move anything but his hand to my hip to pull me in a little closer.
There in his bed, in his arms, I made a decision that I was sure would one day be the death of me. I didn’t want to push him away again and made the choice not to, no matter what it would cost me. I didn’t want to just be the girl next door. I wanted to be more than that – even if only someone to fulfill his physical needs while tricking myself into believing that I was getting what I needed emotionally.
*****
That’s it for now! I may or may not post other excerpts at a later date. Haven’t decided yet, but if I do, you’ll be the first to know:)!! Don’t forget to leave a comment!
Raven~
December 8, 2013
***SUNDAY NIGHT CONFESSION (#1)*** “You did WHAT??????”
As a woman who is, as we speak, ALL the way grown, I get a kick out of telling my mother reckless/stupid/ childish things that I did as a teenager. I mean, what’s she gonna do about it now? Ground me? Confessing these things to her is freeing; It’s even entertaining to see that look on her face. And the best part? It draws the two of us closer and we’re left with some very interesting things to discuss.
“You did what?” Those were her exact words when I confessed to her that, at the tender age of 16…….I was “involved” with a 29 year-old man. Now…..I know you’re probably thinking all sorts of things about this right now, starting with “What was this man thinking?” Honestly? I can’t answer that question. He’d be the only one who could shed any light on what would make him engage in ANY type of relationship with a child only six years older than his own child at the time. But what I can tell you is where MY head was.
I’ve always, as far back as I can remember, looked grown for my age. I’d somehow manage to draw the attention of the twenty-something crowd in the neighborhood just as easily as I would the boys I passed in the hallways at school. I’m only mildly ashamed to say that I lied about my age on occasion as not to scare off the ones that I was actually interested in (Was I the only one who did that?). This man, however, was not one of the ones that I deceived. He knew before even asking for my number that I was barely old enough to drive.
To make this easier, let’s call him J. J worked in the warehouse of an appliance manufacturer nearby. We met on a fluke. One of my girls was dating one of J’s co-workers, and we noticed each other immediately. He was VERY attractive in the face, tall (about 6’3 or 6’4), caramel complexion just like me, nice lean build, and he had this mysterious vibe about him that always left me wondering what he was thinking. It didn’t take him long to make his way over to the car where I sat waiting – my mother’s car of course – to make his move.
No time was wasted; he put my cell phone number to use that first night. I don’t remember how long we talked, but I do remember loving the sound of his deep voice and how mature his conversation was. (Duh, stupid, you were talking to a grown man – how else was he supposed to sound?) I blushed a lot, laughed a lot, and, in the long run, did a lot of sneaking around to hide the REAL identity of the man I’d been spending so much time with on the phone.
I was like a moth drawn to a flame. He’d call, I’d come running. There were secret meetings and late night chats that make me cringe now that I’m a mother. I think of how easy it was to get away with it all and the countless other things I kept to myself. What if he’d been even more of a predator than he was? What if I hadn’t been such a chicken and gave in to his sexual advances? What if…….my own daughters find themselves in a similar situation and I don’t hear about it until THEY’RE 30? Hmm……maybe it wasn’t as funny as I thought it was when I told my mother about this one.
How’d it all end you ask? I’ll tell you. That still, small voice inside my head eventually grew loud enough to get my attention over the sound of J’s addictive baritone. In subtle ways, I began to realize that “maybe he’s not the one for me”. There were unnatural interactions that made me uncomfortable, like the time I was complaining about not being able to find something and he told me that I’d probably be able to get to it if I cleaned my room – just like my mother would’ve said. Long story short, I distanced myself and eventually stopped answering his phone calls.
Was he sick? Did he have malicious intentions? You’re guess is as good as mine on that last one, but I’d have to say that, yes, there is something deeply wrong with a man who would entertain the thought of involving himself with an underage girl. Was there something wrong with me? Since this is my Sunday Night Confession, I’ll keep it one hundred. At that time in my life, I definitely needed some guidance. I was looking for love in all the wrong places which landed me in some questionable situations. Stories like these always baffle my mother because, in her eyes, she kept a tight rein on me. This is true, but she worked full-time and went to school full-time which left a lot of hours unaccounted for in terms of my whereabouts. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a bad kid, but I had the tendency to take advantage of the limited freedom that I had on occasion.
So there you have it, my confession for the week. I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is, right? Comment, ask questions, share….whatever floats your boat! Thanks for reading!
An excerpt from 'Gravity', the first book in my 4-part (BW/AM) interracial romance series titled 'Free Falling' -
"Suddenly, the doorknob to the attic rattled, causing me to jump. Stupid me forgot to lock the door! AJ lifted himself off the couch instantly and we pulled on the clothing that we had time to grab. I heard footsteps on the stairs and I could hardly control the shaking in my hands as I struggled with my shirt. By the time my mom reached the top of the stairs that was all I had on and AJ stood beside me wearing nothing but his jeans. My head was down as she flicked the light on and came to her own conclusions about what AJ and I were doing. The embarrassment that I felt was unbelievable. I couldn’t lift my eyes to look at either one of them. She took a minute to speak, but then finally whispered my name in a disappointed tone. There was no mistaking what was taking place. I imagined that she was observing my pants and AJ’s t-shirt slung carelessly onto the floor – plus my hair was a mess. A tear ran down my cheek as I sat before my mother in the most compromising of situations."
- Looks like I wasn't the only one getting into trouble.......
Raven
“You did what?” Those were her exact words when I confessed to her that, at the tender age of 16…….I was “involved” with a 29 year-old man. Now…..I know you’re probably thinking all sorts of things about this right now, starting with “What was this man thinking?” Honestly? I can’t answer that question. He’d be the only one who could shed any light on what would make him engage in ANY type of relationship with a child only six years older than his own child at the time. But what I can tell you is where MY head was.
I’ve always, as far back as I can remember, looked grown for my age. I’d somehow manage to draw the attention of the twenty-something crowd in the neighborhood just as easily as I would the boys I passed in the hallways at school. I’m only mildly ashamed to say that I lied about my age on occasion as not to scare off the ones that I was actually interested in (Was I the only one who did that?). This man, however, was not one of the ones that I deceived. He knew before even asking for my number that I was barely old enough to drive.
To make this easier, let’s call him J. J worked in the warehouse of an appliance manufacturer nearby. We met on a fluke. One of my girls was dating one of J’s co-workers, and we noticed each other immediately. He was VERY attractive in the face, tall (about 6’3 or 6’4), caramel complexion just like me, nice lean build, and he had this mysterious vibe about him that always left me wondering what he was thinking. It didn’t take him long to make his way over to the car where I sat waiting – my mother’s car of course – to make his move.
No time was wasted; he put my cell phone number to use that first night. I don’t remember how long we talked, but I do remember loving the sound of his deep voice and how mature his conversation was. (Duh, stupid, you were talking to a grown man – how else was he supposed to sound?) I blushed a lot, laughed a lot, and, in the long run, did a lot of sneaking around to hide the REAL identity of the man I’d been spending so much time with on the phone.
I was like a moth drawn to a flame. He’d call, I’d come running. There were secret meetings and late night chats that make me cringe now that I’m a mother. I think of how easy it was to get away with it all and the countless other things I kept to myself. What if he’d been even more of a predator than he was? What if I hadn’t been such a chicken and gave in to his sexual advances? What if…….my own daughters find themselves in a similar situation and I don’t hear about it until THEY’RE 30? Hmm……maybe it wasn’t as funny as I thought it was when I told my mother about this one.
How’d it all end you ask? I’ll tell you. That still, small voice inside my head eventually grew loud enough to get my attention over the sound of J’s addictive baritone. In subtle ways, I began to realize that “maybe he’s not the one for me”. There were unnatural interactions that made me uncomfortable, like the time I was complaining about not being able to find something and he told me that I’d probably be able to get to it if I cleaned my room – just like my mother would’ve said. Long story short, I distanced myself and eventually stopped answering his phone calls.
Was he sick? Did he have malicious intentions? You’re guess is as good as mine on that last one, but I’d have to say that, yes, there is something deeply wrong with a man who would entertain the thought of involving himself with an underage girl. Was there something wrong with me? Since this is my Sunday Night Confession, I’ll keep it one hundred. At that time in my life, I definitely needed some guidance. I was looking for love in all the wrong places which landed me in some questionable situations. Stories like these always baffle my mother because, in her eyes, she kept a tight rein on me. This is true, but she worked full-time and went to school full-time which left a lot of hours unaccounted for in terms of my whereabouts. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a bad kid, but I had the tendency to take advantage of the limited freedom that I had on occasion.
So there you have it, my confession for the week. I’m not proud of it, but it is what it is, right? Comment, ask questions, share….whatever floats your boat! Thanks for reading!
An excerpt from 'Gravity', the first book in my 4-part (BW/AM) interracial romance series titled 'Free Falling' -
"Suddenly, the doorknob to the attic rattled, causing me to jump. Stupid me forgot to lock the door! AJ lifted himself off the couch instantly and we pulled on the clothing that we had time to grab. I heard footsteps on the stairs and I could hardly control the shaking in my hands as I struggled with my shirt. By the time my mom reached the top of the stairs that was all I had on and AJ stood beside me wearing nothing but his jeans. My head was down as she flicked the light on and came to her own conclusions about what AJ and I were doing. The embarrassment that I felt was unbelievable. I couldn’t lift my eyes to look at either one of them. She took a minute to speak, but then finally whispered my name in a disappointed tone. There was no mistaking what was taking place. I imagined that she was observing my pants and AJ’s t-shirt slung carelessly onto the floor – plus my hair was a mess. A tear ran down my cheek as I sat before my mother in the most compromising of situations."
- Looks like I wasn't the only one getting into trouble.......
Raven
December 5, 2013
Why I Write
As much as I DREAM about being able to write for a living, that definitely isn't what motivates me. Why do I carve out the time to do the oh-so tedious tasks of plotting out physical attributes and personality traits? Research locations for my settings into the wee hours of the night? Take hours toiling over names for these faceless characters who live inside my head until the day that they choose to claw their way onto a fresh Word document? The answer is fairly simple - because it keeps me as close to sane as I'm capable of being by giving me a much needed outlet from....well....real life. I get high off the way a story unfolds as it progresses from one page to another, transforming itself into something completely different than what I originally intended for it to be. The beauty of witnessing what can transpire when you take that first step into the boundless world of writing is somewhat addictive.
When I write, I can be whoever I want to be. My characters (yes, all of them) are nothing more than segments of who I really am. None of them completely embody my personality as a whole, but there's always a little bit of me in there. Even the bad ones? Yup! Them too! Isn't it like that for everyone, though? I mean.....you have the chance to be that girl who wasn't afraid of what would happen if she went after that guy even though everything but her heart told her not to. You get to be that guy who makes his living breaking the hearts of women based solely on the fact that he's got the balls to do it. Writing gives us all the freedom to, mentally at least, cast aside our natural inclination to abide within the confines of social norms and step over to the dark side that we work so hard to suppress. Admit it :)
So, yeah.....that pretty much sums it up. I write because, when I do, I'm free. Free to do what I want, say what I want, love who I want, love as MANY as I want, as OFTEN as I want :), hate who I want, be who I want.......and nobody can tell me that I did it wrong. The reason? Because every line, be it triumphant or in err, is mine. For those who write, do it because you love it and never give it up based on someone else's opinion of you or your work.
Favorite writing quote by an unknown contributor: "writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards." Love it!
When I write, I can be whoever I want to be. My characters (yes, all of them) are nothing more than segments of who I really am. None of them completely embody my personality as a whole, but there's always a little bit of me in there. Even the bad ones? Yup! Them too! Isn't it like that for everyone, though? I mean.....you have the chance to be that girl who wasn't afraid of what would happen if she went after that guy even though everything but her heart told her not to. You get to be that guy who makes his living breaking the hearts of women based solely on the fact that he's got the balls to do it. Writing gives us all the freedom to, mentally at least, cast aside our natural inclination to abide within the confines of social norms and step over to the dark side that we work so hard to suppress. Admit it :)
So, yeah.....that pretty much sums it up. I write because, when I do, I'm free. Free to do what I want, say what I want, love who I want, love as MANY as I want, as OFTEN as I want :), hate who I want, be who I want.......and nobody can tell me that I did it wrong. The reason? Because every line, be it triumphant or in err, is mine. For those who write, do it because you love it and never give it up based on someone else's opinion of you or your work.
Favorite writing quote by an unknown contributor: "writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards." Love it!
December 4, 2013
20 Completely Random Facts About Me (because all other topic ideas elude me at the moment). And.....WHY NOT!!
1) I still use the same hair scarf from high school. Mind you, I graduated in 2001, so…..
2) Mushrooms gross me out because I can’t get past the fact that they’re fungus
3) I’m 30 and have been married for 11 years this coming February
4) Twenty years later, I still haven’t adequately dealt with my parents’ divorce
5) I just learned how to swim the summer of 2012 (sad, right?)
6) I’m only 5’4 and wear a size 11 shoe – Apparently God thinks it’s funny to give a short girl big feet
7) I wrote my first book in 2009 and just FINALLY got the nerve to publish it – hence the reason I have like 7 other fully written novels weighing down my hard drive.
8) Favorite movie: I am Legend…..and not just because I love Will Smith either.
9) Top 5 celeb crushes: 1) Idris Elba; 2) Channing Tatum; 3) Columbus Short; 4) Adam Rodriguez; 5) Charles Michael Davis (the dude who plays Marcel on CW’s “The Originals” – Whew!!). I’d have each one of their babies and deny, deny, deny…...
10) One of my biggest fears is regret. I hate the idea of missing an opportunity and doing the whole “woulda, coulda, shoulda” routine later.
11) If I could live anywhere in the world it would be New York City
12) I get amped about video games like men do
13) I was born with twelve fingers LOL (of course they were removed shortly thereafter)
14) I can’t say the word “balls” without giggling
15) My mother’s afraid to read my books because she’s knows there’s sex involved
16) Birds freak me out
17) Embarrassing moment: I lived in an apartment building on a busy street for a while as a teenager. I fell down the front steps during rush hour
18) I’ve never broken a bone which is a miracle because I despise milk
19) I swallowed a quarter when I was 4 and my brother saved my life.
20) When I was 9-ish, I bred gerbils for a local pet store. The most I had at a time was 60 in 6 separate cages. Looking back, that was pretty gross, but I made 40 bucks a month selling them to the store owner!
I think I totally just “over-shared”, but it was fun!
2) Mushrooms gross me out because I can’t get past the fact that they’re fungus
3) I’m 30 and have been married for 11 years this coming February
4) Twenty years later, I still haven’t adequately dealt with my parents’ divorce
5) I just learned how to swim the summer of 2012 (sad, right?)
6) I’m only 5’4 and wear a size 11 shoe – Apparently God thinks it’s funny to give a short girl big feet
7) I wrote my first book in 2009 and just FINALLY got the nerve to publish it – hence the reason I have like 7 other fully written novels weighing down my hard drive.
8) Favorite movie: I am Legend…..and not just because I love Will Smith either.
9) Top 5 celeb crushes: 1) Idris Elba; 2) Channing Tatum; 3) Columbus Short; 4) Adam Rodriguez; 5) Charles Michael Davis (the dude who plays Marcel on CW’s “The Originals” – Whew!!). I’d have each one of their babies and deny, deny, deny…...
10) One of my biggest fears is regret. I hate the idea of missing an opportunity and doing the whole “woulda, coulda, shoulda” routine later.
11) If I could live anywhere in the world it would be New York City
12) I get amped about video games like men do
13) I was born with twelve fingers LOL (of course they were removed shortly thereafter)
14) I can’t say the word “balls” without giggling
15) My mother’s afraid to read my books because she’s knows there’s sex involved
16) Birds freak me out
17) Embarrassing moment: I lived in an apartment building on a busy street for a while as a teenager. I fell down the front steps during rush hour
18) I’ve never broken a bone which is a miracle because I despise milk
19) I swallowed a quarter when I was 4 and my brother saved my life.
20) When I was 9-ish, I bred gerbils for a local pet store. The most I had at a time was 60 in 6 separate cages. Looking back, that was pretty gross, but I made 40 bucks a month selling them to the store owner!
I think I totally just “over-shared”, but it was fun!
November 29, 2013
Quickest Way to Lose a Good Friend
Guys have the “Bro Code”, an all encompassing set of rules that suggests how one ought to govern himself in the dealings of a friendship. But.....what about women? Shouldn’t we have standards that we abide by when it comes to lines that we can and cannot cross too? A set of clear-cut requirements that we must maintain? Of course we should. Trust me, I’ve been burned enough by “friends” to know that not everyone has their eyes tuned to see the proverbial lines drawn in the sand. So, to clear things up, I thought of a few and made them plainer.
1) Don’t make it a point to make her feel/look like a tool in front of the opposite sex. Not okay.
Not only do you make her look bad....you make YOU look bad....and extremely insecure on top of it. Usually, this is a sign that you’re intimidated by someone’s shine – afraid that, when in their presence, your splendor will go unnoticed.
2) It’s not okay to date her ex! Not even the ones she didn’t sleep with!
Who cares that she said it’s over and she never wants to see him again? Who cares if he’s the one pursuing you? Who cares that she’s moved on and is way happier with Boyfriend #2 than she ever was with “what’s his face”. All of these facts are beside the point if at any time she considered this man to be HERS! I don’t care if it was long distance, short-term, high school……doesn’t matter. The bottom line? There are soooooo many other men out there that she hasn’t had her pretty little manicured fingers on. GO GET YOU ONE OF THEM! This will save so much stress and heartache in the end. Think about the possibilities – you could lose a good friend over a fleeting relationship; old feelings could begin to stir if they’re forced to be around each other more thanks to you, resulting in an inevitable hook up; you could end up losing other friends in your circle who think that your disloyal! Just…..no. Bad idea.
3) Don’t get into the habit of only telling her what she wants to hear all the time.
Who else will tell it like it is if not you? That’s one thing people get twisted. As friends, we’re not obligated to say things that will make our comrades feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside all the time. Sometimes, a friend needs the cold, hard truth – and nine times out of ten we’re the only ones who know them well enough to give it. I look at it this way, eventually someone will tell (insert made up name here) that her dress is tucked in her panties. Better to be the informant than the bystander accused of letting her make a fool of herself.
4) Keep her secrets like you’d keep your own.
It’s kind of an honor when someone trusts you with intimate bits of information. Don’t screw it up by blabbing it to anyone who’ll listen. Be better than that. Be honored that someone actually thinks you’re trustworthy and loyal enough to hold their reputation in your hands. There’re very few things as hurtful as finding out that someone you thought you could trust stabbed you in the back.
5) Gas her up!
Jealousy has no place in a healthy relationship – including friendships. Learn to be proud of her accomplishments instead of getting down about those milestones that you haven’t quite reached just yet. Let her achievements be your motivation, not a breeding ground for resentment. She just bought a new car and you can’t even get a ten-speed? Don’t sweat it. Tell her how great she looks behind the wheel and ask for the number of her debt counselor. She met the man of her dreams and has plans to wed as soon as the snow thaws, meanwhile you can’t even get the mailman to flirt back? Awesome! Go with her to pick out bridesmaids dresses that are sure to help you find your new boo at the reception. My point is, don’t rain on her parade simply because yours was a bust. If she’s got something you’re trying to attain, find out what it takes to make things happen for you too. All the while, being conscious of letting her know how proud you are of her and that she doesn’t have a bigger cheerleader than you.
Raven
1) Don’t make it a point to make her feel/look like a tool in front of the opposite sex. Not okay.
Not only do you make her look bad....you make YOU look bad....and extremely insecure on top of it. Usually, this is a sign that you’re intimidated by someone’s shine – afraid that, when in their presence, your splendor will go unnoticed.
2) It’s not okay to date her ex! Not even the ones she didn’t sleep with!
Who cares that she said it’s over and she never wants to see him again? Who cares if he’s the one pursuing you? Who cares that she’s moved on and is way happier with Boyfriend #2 than she ever was with “what’s his face”. All of these facts are beside the point if at any time she considered this man to be HERS! I don’t care if it was long distance, short-term, high school……doesn’t matter. The bottom line? There are soooooo many other men out there that she hasn’t had her pretty little manicured fingers on. GO GET YOU ONE OF THEM! This will save so much stress and heartache in the end. Think about the possibilities – you could lose a good friend over a fleeting relationship; old feelings could begin to stir if they’re forced to be around each other more thanks to you, resulting in an inevitable hook up; you could end up losing other friends in your circle who think that your disloyal! Just…..no. Bad idea.
3) Don’t get into the habit of only telling her what she wants to hear all the time.
Who else will tell it like it is if not you? That’s one thing people get twisted. As friends, we’re not obligated to say things that will make our comrades feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside all the time. Sometimes, a friend needs the cold, hard truth – and nine times out of ten we’re the only ones who know them well enough to give it. I look at it this way, eventually someone will tell (insert made up name here) that her dress is tucked in her panties. Better to be the informant than the bystander accused of letting her make a fool of herself.
4) Keep her secrets like you’d keep your own.
It’s kind of an honor when someone trusts you with intimate bits of information. Don’t screw it up by blabbing it to anyone who’ll listen. Be better than that. Be honored that someone actually thinks you’re trustworthy and loyal enough to hold their reputation in your hands. There’re very few things as hurtful as finding out that someone you thought you could trust stabbed you in the back.
5) Gas her up!
Jealousy has no place in a healthy relationship – including friendships. Learn to be proud of her accomplishments instead of getting down about those milestones that you haven’t quite reached just yet. Let her achievements be your motivation, not a breeding ground for resentment. She just bought a new car and you can’t even get a ten-speed? Don’t sweat it. Tell her how great she looks behind the wheel and ask for the number of her debt counselor. She met the man of her dreams and has plans to wed as soon as the snow thaws, meanwhile you can’t even get the mailman to flirt back? Awesome! Go with her to pick out bridesmaids dresses that are sure to help you find your new boo at the reception. My point is, don’t rain on her parade simply because yours was a bust. If she’s got something you’re trying to attain, find out what it takes to make things happen for you too. All the while, being conscious of letting her know how proud you are of her and that she doesn’t have a bigger cheerleader than you.
Raven
November 26, 2013
Love At First Sight
Love At First Sight?
I suppose the best place to start would be to ask what your definition of love is. For you is it that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach whenever you think that person’s name? Is it knowing that he/she accepts you just the way you are? Is it being able to sit in a room and exist peacefully together without having to say a word? Is it flowers and candy and expensive dates?
Everyone’s perception of love is different, making it difficult to define or classify. But still, whatever your definition is, do you believe that two people can meet one day and fall in love, REAL love, without really knowing one another? I do.
To me, love is relative – situational. In other words, it may take an act of God to make you fall in love or stay in love with the man on the left, but the man on the right can do everything wrong and still have your love and devotion. That kind of touches on what I mean. That same factor that makes you differentiate your feelings from one individual to the next could also cause you to fall for someone sooner than usual – whatever the “usual” may be for you. But why? Is it science – pheromones and symmetry and all that jazz? Or is it something more mystical and spiritual than that? Fate? Kismet even? There’s no way to tell, but I do know that I believe in it. I myself have fallen victim to this sort of captivation. And no, it has nothing to do with a person’s physical appearance or status or anything like that. Sometimes a person just has that…..special something that grabs you and holds you prisoner.
So what happens when this feeling hits you and you’re already in a relationship? Do you leave the one you’re with and follow your heart? Or do you go in the direction that your moral compass is leading you? Tough call. At any rate, love is meant to be enjoyed and shared. Don’t let it become the source of your misery. If it does, you might want to reevaluate and figure out if what you THINK is love is really another emotion cloaked in love’s innocence. Beware.
On that note, I’ll leave you with food for thought: In the situation I just mentioned above, if you stay put and possibly let the love of your life get away, does that make you a martyr? Are you essentially sacrificing your own happiness for the happiness of another?
An excerpt from ‘Gravity’, book one of my series entitled, ‘Free Falling’ –
“I’d never in my life experienced such a rush. In those moments, I was crazed for him – obsessed with this feeling. I knew what it must feel like to get high. It was like I’d been trying to get here – to him – all my life even though I didn’t realize that it was him my world was missing.”
– My personal take on love at first sight…….
Raven
I suppose the best place to start would be to ask what your definition of love is. For you is it that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach whenever you think that person’s name? Is it knowing that he/she accepts you just the way you are? Is it being able to sit in a room and exist peacefully together without having to say a word? Is it flowers and candy and expensive dates?
Everyone’s perception of love is different, making it difficult to define or classify. But still, whatever your definition is, do you believe that two people can meet one day and fall in love, REAL love, without really knowing one another? I do.
To me, love is relative – situational. In other words, it may take an act of God to make you fall in love or stay in love with the man on the left, but the man on the right can do everything wrong and still have your love and devotion. That kind of touches on what I mean. That same factor that makes you differentiate your feelings from one individual to the next could also cause you to fall for someone sooner than usual – whatever the “usual” may be for you. But why? Is it science – pheromones and symmetry and all that jazz? Or is it something more mystical and spiritual than that? Fate? Kismet even? There’s no way to tell, but I do know that I believe in it. I myself have fallen victim to this sort of captivation. And no, it has nothing to do with a person’s physical appearance or status or anything like that. Sometimes a person just has that…..special something that grabs you and holds you prisoner.
So what happens when this feeling hits you and you’re already in a relationship? Do you leave the one you’re with and follow your heart? Or do you go in the direction that your moral compass is leading you? Tough call. At any rate, love is meant to be enjoyed and shared. Don’t let it become the source of your misery. If it does, you might want to reevaluate and figure out if what you THINK is love is really another emotion cloaked in love’s innocence. Beware.
On that note, I’ll leave you with food for thought: In the situation I just mentioned above, if you stay put and possibly let the love of your life get away, does that make you a martyr? Are you essentially sacrificing your own happiness for the happiness of another?
An excerpt from ‘Gravity’, book one of my series entitled, ‘Free Falling’ –
“I’d never in my life experienced such a rush. In those moments, I was crazed for him – obsessed with this feeling. I knew what it must feel like to get high. It was like I’d been trying to get here – to him – all my life even though I didn’t realize that it was him my world was missing.”
– My personal take on love at first sight…….
Raven
