Blog Visit: Office Intern by Deep

OIntern

Blurb:

Kya Garner is back and ready to take on Corporate America.

She has a summer internship in which she is determined to become Morgan, Tesson & Associates’ brightest star but if there is a way to mix business with pleasure, Kya will surely find it. Being fully awakened to her sexual power, Kya attempts to figure out exactly what to do about it and with Ray no longer readily accessible, that leaves her with a lot more time to play; in and out of the office.

Office Intern – the second book in this series – explores what happens when a young woman has taken her sexual journey to the next level.

Excerpt:

What was it about a fine black man in a suit and tie that made me clench?
I mean, it couldn’t just be any shirt and tie considering suits were all I spent my time around these days. At Morgan, Tesson and Associates, the dress code was always professional with the exception to the company’s casual Fridays that most didn’t observe and neither did the summer interns.
To my dismay, the interns never had a reason to have much contact with Mr. Macklin since Shannon did the supervising of interns; but today, I had been called in to speak with him about the project I just completed. Which was why I was wondering how I would keep my fast ass seated instead of jumping onto his lap to ride him.
“Kya Garner, 3.8 GPA, active member of Sigma Eta Xi, entering your senior year at the University of Chester. That’s quite impressive, Ms. Garner.”
“I’m glad I can impress you, Mr. Macklin.”
“Call me Josh, please. Everyone else does around here,” he said, reclining back into his black leather executive chair. A chair big enough to hold us both up if only he’d allow me to show him.
“If it’s okay with you, sir, I’d rather not. I respect people put in positions of authority. Call me a good girl … in that regard.”
He stared at me for a while, his dark bedroom eyes quickly shifting to my crossed thighs before returning to focus on my warm face. Though I really wanted to unbutton my blouse just to cool off and to give him something to really fucking look at, I resisted and remained well behaved.
For now.
“A good girl, huh?” He chuckled, but those eyes shifted to my cherry painted lips.
“Yes, sir. I know how to be good at everything I do. Which is why I’m so glad to be working under you, sir. I feel I will do my very best work with you to guide me through each and every step. Don’t you, sir?”
I watched as he shifted in his seat, the only sign that my words might be having any effect on him at all.
“I believe you’re right, Ms. Garner. Shannon mentioned that your insight into the microfiltration project was masterful and I thought maybe you needed to advance ahead of your peers for the remainder of the summer.”
“Thank you, Mr. Macklin.”
“You have another four weeks in the program and due to me shifting some work to George in his new role as Project Manager, it’s freed up a bit of my time. So, I’ll be able to work with the brightest star on our associates’ team … one on one.”
With my pulse racing, heart thumping inside of my chest, I bit my bottom lip out of excitement, not at all anxious. This was perfect.
“That is if you’d be interested, Kya,” he went on to add.
Hell yeah, I was interested in any and all one-on-ones with this fine man.
“The opportunity sounds too perfect to pass up. I’m all yours for the next four weeks, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Damn.
I really wish we could get started right away.
But be a good girl, Kya.

Links:

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The Christening- Nameless Couple In Paradise

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“So what do you think?”
“I think you did mighty fine. Mighty fine. This is perfect.”
And it was. Plush grass, big beautiful palm trees lined the property providing protection from the bright hot sun. Protection they were taking advantage of— him with his back against the tree and her leaning back into him from between his long legs— as they listened to the sound of the tide. She’d never tire of that sound; not for as long as she lived.
When he surprised her with this beach house, she’d thought he was playing around; convinced that there was no way that their vacation spot could turn into a secret hideaway they could run to anytime they wanted. But he hadn’t been playing—in fact he was nothing but serious. Having already taken care of some of the preliminaries, they were able to finalize the sale quickly, leaving her to wonder how in the hell he could do all of that without her detecting it. But would she complain about this man’s ability to keep the most beautiful secret? Absolutely not. They’d been making love all day, all night, and had barely eaten the groceries she insisted they buy in order to avoid having to go anywhere just so that she could show her appreciation.
“You’re daydreaming again. Aren’t you?”
“It’s hard not to in a place like this. Matter of fact, I think you may have made a mistake buying this house. Now I’ll never listen to you when you talk.”
Giggling followed as he tickled her sides, forcing her to pull away from their protected space from under the tree.
Smiling, he stayed put, looking so relaxed and sexy, his current spot was in danger of being christened. Who cared about twigs, and dirt and bits of sand cutting into your knees when you could ride your man hard and fast then slow and carefree to the sound of ocean waves? She sure didn’t.
“You look like you have a plan,” he murmured but he obviously knew the plan because as she moved closer to him, he began to unbuckle his pants, sliding them down just enough that when she straddled him, he was erect and waiting.
“I always have a plan, when it comes to you,” she breathed out as she slid her wet sheath down and around him.
“Oh really, and what might that be?” He husked out the question.
“Loving you.”

© Aja 2017

If you want to know the start of their story click here.

Love Stages is on Sale Now!

 

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Two stories in one great book about love.

Excerpt from Good Old Soul by Aja

Amina

 

When I woke up, my eyes were trying to focus on my surroundings, which were unfamiliar. I knew enough to know that I wasn’t at my home and then I realized my head wasn’t on my pillow either. I was lying on him. He was asleep just as I had been. His features were relaxed and at peace.

As I took in the details of his handsome face, I thought he was truly a specimen; all male and delicious. The grey hairs sprinkled at his temple only made him look more distinguished and made me want to wake him in a way that would be satisfying to him but being this was our first time together, I didn’t want to be too forward. Even though we both know why we came back here together. It wasn’t for coffee, or wine, or to listen to music as he suggested.

I looked at the time on the clock on his cable box and realized it was safe to head out and not get jacked since it would be light outside shortly. But when I made a move to grab my shoes from next to the couch and put them on, he stirred beside me.

I watched as he looked around and then he noticed me sitting there staring at him. “I guess I’m a poor host, huh,” he mumbled around his smile.

“You were alright. It seems we both fell asleep for a few hours.”

He looked at the time and then back at me with hot intensity before he said, “Then I guess I should let you go, right.”

“Yeah, I’ll be going.” But neither of us made a move to get up, we just looked at each other. The air between us was crackling with some force that I couldn’t describe. It was not something I’ve experienced before and I didn’t want to examine the why either.

He reached out for my face, his hot palms engulfing it as I leaned forward to accept his kiss that was sweet as it was hot.

Okay, this is where I admit that I was a bit nervous. Yes, I accepted his offer to come back to listen to some music knowing full darn well he wasn’t talking about the kind that required any metal or wood instruments. And yes, I strutted up into his beautifully decorated condo like a big girl with not one insecurity. And trust me, I didn’t have many anyway, but he was older. I mean judging by what I can see, old enough to maybe not be my dad since my parents are in their mid-sixties but shoot, maybe an older cousin or uncle or something. You get my point. And here I was with about six good years of sexual experience to his probably twenty-five. But I’d pretend I had enough experience if it killed me.

But it didn’t kill me unless I considered how out of breath I was with him standing in the middle of the floor with my ass now situated inside of the big palms of his hands that lifted me up and down on his hot hard shaft. My legs, wrapped around his waist, provided me with some leverage to do some arching, twisting and rocking but mostly he handled it and me like a pro. He was so damn thick and ready and I was so wet for him. Wet enough that I could feel my essence ooze out of me on each impale.

I never had a man do this to me and I admit that all my jitters were now gone as he pulled me back and forth hard and harder, manipulating my body so expertly that the tension building had to release somehow, someway or I would die … I exploded around him, screaming out a strangled cry, falling apart in his secure hold. He paused then, allowing me a moment to stop shaking, and I noticed that the only sign of his hard work were the beads of perspiration on his brow and the clench of his jaw, but he had amazing stamina, which dispelled a myth I held about older men.

He leaned into me, the taste of my honey from being spread open by his mouth earlier, in his kiss. I accepted the unique flavor and his tongue before he let me down to get on my unsteady feet.

I stood there grinning at him like an idiot and to my credit, he grinned too before he said, “How was that for starters?”

 

Excerpt from Begin Again by Angel

 

Plopping down on one of the leather chairs, Malva let out a deep breath. She was exhausted but she had gotten everything set up as she wanted it. She could now start working whenever she chose. The door opened, startling her and a man walked inside. Hurriedly, she stood, flipping on the lights with a remote. Soft lighting filled the room and she could see a tall, bulky but fit man with milk chocolate skin and bald head. Her breath literally caught in her throat.

“Can I help you?” Malva asked. The man stood, staring at her openly before responding.

“Good evening, I am Desmond Trainor. I own the lighting shop next door. I heard I had a new neighbor and wanted to drop in. I have been traveling the past couple of weeks.”

“I am Malva, Malva Oscar and welcome to my small studio. I’m an artist and I’m planning shows and there will also be art for sale, African, mostly Ethiopian, since that is my home and African American.” She said quickly.

“That’s cool. There are several cool shops moving in. I specialize in unique lighting. I also sell standard lighting to contractors. Next to me is a Middle Eastern grocery store that also has a restaurant and next to that is a shop that specializes in ethnic toys. What’s the name of your place?”

“I have no idea.” Malva admitted. “I thought of The Artist’s Lair…”

“That’s catchy. My spot is Get Lit… would you like to take a look?”

“Sure, let me grab my bag and lock up. I’m tired anyway.” She said and gathered her things feeling self-conscious. Desmond’s eyes were all over her.

Walking into his shop Malva gasped at the lighting and how he had everything arranged. He had removed the second floor and the ceilings were over twenty feet high. There were lighting fixtures, table lamps, floor lamps, outside lighting, and floor lighting. More than she ever knew there was to light.

“Oh, my goodness, this is amazing! How does one decide to have a business such as this?” Malva asked as she turned to face Desmond and she startled because he was only inches away from her and smelled of man, soap and French cologne.

“My dad was an electrician and trained me as a young kid. I was always fascinated by lights and lighting. I majored in history, believe it or not, but this was always what I wanted and aspired to. Most of my clients build homes and want something unique but I also have a nice clientele who roll through and shop for lamps and such. There is also significant online purchasing.  I travel the world looking for unique lighting. You are so damn pretty.”

“Thank you. I need to go. I’m so hungry…” Malva said, suddenly feeling heated.

 

Buy Link: http://amzn.to/2kH1xLy

New Release: Love Stages is on Sale Now!

 

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Two stories in one great book about love.

Excerpt from Good Old Soul by Aja

Amina

 

When I woke up, my eyes were trying to focus on my surroundings, which were unfamiliar. I knew enough to know that I wasn’t at my home and then I realized my head wasn’t on my pillow either. I was lying on him. He was asleep just as I had been. His features were relaxed and at peace.

As I took in the details of his handsome face, I thought he was truly a specimen; all male and delicious. The grey hairs sprinkled at his temple only made him look more distinguished and made me want to wake him in a way that would be satisfying to him but being this was our first time together, I didn’t want to be too forward. Even though we both know why we came back here together. It wasn’t for coffee, or wine, or to listen to music as he suggested.

I looked at the time on the clock on his cable box and realized it was safe to head out and not get jacked since it would be light outside shortly. But when I made a move to grab my shoes from next to the couch and put them on, he stirred beside me.

I watched as he looked around and then he noticed me sitting there staring at him. “I guess I’m a poor host, huh,” he mumbled around his smile.

“You were alright. It seems we both fell asleep for a few hours.”

He looked at the time and then back at me with hot intensity before he said, “Then I guess I should let you go, right.”

“Yeah, I’ll be going.” But neither of us made a move to get up, we just looked at each other. The air between us was crackling with some force that I couldn’t describe. It was not something I’ve experienced before and I didn’t want to examine the why either.

He reached out for my face, his hot palms engulfing it as I leaned forward to accept his kiss that was sweet as it was hot.

Okay, this is where I admit that I was a bit nervous. Yes, I accepted his offer to come back to listen to some music knowing full darn well he wasn’t talking about the kind that required any metal or wood instruments. And yes, I strutted up into his beautifully decorated condo like a big girl with not one insecurity. And trust me, I didn’t have many anyway, but he was older. I mean judging by what I can see, old enough to maybe not be my dad since my parents are in their mid-sixties but shoot, maybe an older cousin or uncle or something. You get my point. And here I was with about six good years of sexual experience to his probably twenty-five. But I’d pretend I had enough experience if it killed me.

But it didn’t kill me unless I considered how out of breath I was with him standing in the middle of the floor with my ass now situated inside of the big palms of his hands that lifted me up and down on his hot hard shaft. My legs, wrapped around his waist, provided me with some leverage to do some arching, twisting and rocking but mostly he handled it and me like a pro. He was so damn thick and ready and I was so wet for him. Wet enough that I could feel my essence ooze out of me on each impale.

I never had a man do this to me and I admit that all my jitters were now gone as he pulled me back and forth hard and harder, manipulating my body so expertly that the tension building had to release somehow, someway or I would die … I exploded around him, screaming out a strangled cry, falling apart in his secure hold. He paused then, allowing me a moment to stop shaking, and I noticed that the only sign of his hard work were the beads of perspiration on his brow and the clench of his jaw, but he had amazing stamina, which dispelled a myth I held about older men.

He leaned into me, the taste of my honey from being spread open by his mouth earlier, in his kiss. I accepted the unique flavor and his tongue before he let me down to get on my unsteady feet.

I stood there grinning at him like an idiot and to my credit, he grinned too before he said, “How was that for starters?”

 

Excerpt from Begin Again by Angel

 

Plopping down on one of the leather chairs, Malva let out a deep breath. She was exhausted but she had gotten everything set up as she wanted it. She could now start working whenever she chose. The door opened, startling her and a man walked inside. Hurriedly, she stood, flipping on the lights with a remote. Soft lighting filled the room and she could see a tall, bulky but fit man with milk chocolate skin and bald head. Her breath literally caught in her throat.

“Can I help you?” Malva asked. The man stood, staring at her openly before responding.

“Good evening, I am Desmond Trainor. I own the lighting shop next door. I heard I had a new neighbor and wanted to drop in. I have been traveling the past couple of weeks.”

“I am Malva, Malva Oscar and welcome to my small studio. I’m an artist and I’m planning shows and there will also be art for sale, African, mostly Ethiopian, since that is my home and African American.” She said quickly.

“That’s cool. There are several cool shops moving in. I specialize in unique lighting. I also sell standard lighting to contractors. Next to me is a Middle Eastern grocery store that also has a restaurant and next to that is a shop that specializes in ethnic toys. What’s the name of your place?”

“I have no idea.” Malva admitted. “I thought of The Artist’s Lair…”

“That’s catchy. My spot is Get Lit… would you like to take a look?”

“Sure, let me grab my bag and lock up. I’m tired anyway.” She said and gathered her things feeling self-conscious. Desmond’s eyes were all over her.

Walking into his shop Malva gasped at the lighting and how he had everything arranged. He had removed the second floor and the ceilings were over twenty feet high. There were lighting fixtures, table lamps, floor lamps, outside lighting, and floor lighting. More than she ever knew there was to light.

“Oh, my goodness, this is amazing! How does one decide to have a business such as this?” Malva asked as she turned to face Desmond and she startled because he was only inches away from her and smelled of man, soap and French cologne.

“My dad was an electrician and trained me as a young kid. I was always fascinated by lights and lighting. I majored in history, believe it or not, but this was always what I wanted and aspired to. Most of my clients build homes and want something unique but I also have a nice clientele who roll through and shop for lamps and such. There is also significant online purchasing.  I travel the world looking for unique lighting. You are so damn pretty.”

“Thank you. I need to go. I’m so hungry…” Malva said, suddenly feeling heated.

 

Buy Link: http://amzn.to/2kH1xLy

Blog Visit: Erotica author Deep discusses New Debut Release, Naughty Girl

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I enjoy my erotica with a storyline so when I was given Naughty Girl to read I was not only pleasantly surprised, I was also turned on. Find out why…

Me: Where did you come up with the name Deep?

Well one must keep some secrets but let’s just says it describes a few things. Physical, mental, even spiritual. I’m deep; and I hope my readers are too. They need to be, to handle it.

Me: Well okay. How would you describe Naughty Girl or your writing in general?

My writing in general can be described as honest, highly erotic, not romantic though there are elements that make you feel that there is some emotion taking place between the people I’m writing. I want my readers to experience pleasure.

Naughty Girl specifically is a chronicle. Kya, the main character is a young woman going through her sexual experimentation phase of womanhood. The result is pulse pounding and hot, sex because Kya seems to have a knack for finding the right partner to screw with. Readers may not like all of the decisions Kya makes, but will have a hard time admitting that each are not worth it for her at this point in her development.

Me: Are there any other projects on the horizon for you and how can readers get in touch with you?

Yes, I have a few projects I’m working on; one is a follow-up to Naughty Girl that will be released by summer. Please look out for it.

I can be found on Facebook as EroticAuthor Deep. Become my friend.

It was a pleasure having you here Deep; thanks for coming.

Here’s an excerpt from Naughty Girl which is on sale NOW!

Ray was my dad’s friend and I wanted him. Despite the twenty-year difference in our ages and the fact that he obviously had so much more experience than my twenty-year-old-self, I still wanted him.

Well my wish came true tonight. The get-together was cancelled. My mom wanted my dad to take her to a natural hair convention. He wasn’t too happy about having to forgo his usual guys’ night, but he never wanted to make my mom unhappy, so he agreed to.

Apparently, my dad wasn’t able to get in touch with everyone to cancel so he instructed me, “If Ray calls or stops by, tell him I’m sorry and I’ll be in touch later to reschedule.”

With an innocent daddy’s girl smile, I told him, “I’ll take care of it, Daddy. Have a good time.”

I had a feeling Ray wouldn’t be calling anyway, and I was right. Ray seemed like the type of guy that wasn’t attached to devices. He showed when he showed, and left when he left.

That night, after mom and dad left, I took a shower and put on my favorite mango scented body butter before dressing in my black skintight boy shorts and a tank top that read Juicy. I made sure my straight long hair was out and flowing around my shoulders and put on my favorite red lip gloss that made my lips look like ripe cherries.

When the doorbell rang at eight on the dot, I took my time going to answer it. I wanted to seem unbothered and unrushed, even though I was giddy and so fuckin’ horny inside. I even went through the trouble of pretending to be on my cell phone, talking to my best friend, Tiana, when I answered the door.

I opened the door with one hand, holding my phone up to my ear with the other and smiled when Ray stood there looking at me like he had been punched in the gut.

“Yeah, I know. We can always go some other time, Tiana,” I said to my fake caller. “I was in the middle of getting dressed, but it won’t be a big deal to come out of these clothes, so don’t even sweat it.”

I looked at Ray and mouthed sorry, as he finally picked up his bottom lip and came through the door and shut it behind him. I pretended to be listening, but I watched as he checked out my ass before I turned to him completely. He looked away quickly and started to move towards the kitchen, which led to the playroom. Now I knew I needed to hurry through my fake call.

“So hey, you go ahead and take your meds and get some sleep and call me when you get over your cold.” And I quickly fake ended the call.

“Hey, sorry about that,” I said to him as I followed him into the kitchen.

“No sweat,” he said, but then turned back around, being sure to keep his eyes up high on my face. “Where’s your dad, Lil Girl? Where’s everyone else?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Your game night is cancelled. He went with my mom to the hair show. She begged him to go …” I trailed off.

“Oh,” he said, seeming troubled. He had no idea what trouble I could get him into if he let me.

“Yeah, he said if you wanted to hang out for a while, you could. He knows you like to get away from the house for a few hours. He thought I’d be going out anyway. But I don’t mind if you stay.”

He seemed even more disturbed for a moment and I hoped I hadn’t pushed too far too soon.

But then he said, “Alright, I’ll hang out for a little while, but not too long. I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

I suppose he wasn’t in a rush to go home to Miss Mousy and I didn’t blame him. Not when he had all of me to look at.

“Now why would you think that? I’ll probably just go upstairs for a little while anyway. But do you want me to get you anything? Anything at all?” I hoped my eyes said what I was thinking. He could have anything he wanted right now. I would be putty.

“Nah, you go ahead, Lil Girl.”

“One of these days you’re going to stop calling me that. I’m not a little girl anymore. Can’t you tell?”

I placed my hand on my curved hip, making sure he got the full picture. There was no little girl in this house. She was long gone.

Ray looked at me more fully then. It was as if he had been trying not to look at me for a long time and he’d finally been granted permission to have his fill.

His eyes trailed a hot path from my cat eyes to my lush lips, to my big tits to my hips and thighs and finally down to my legs. And then he was back to my eyes again.

“No, you aren’t a little girl anymore, are you?”

My lungs could barely fill up with air. This man had made me so slick for him and all he did was look at me. My nipples became rock-hard beneath my tank top and I watched his eyes move down to them. As if sensing my arousal, his nostrils flared, before his dark brown eyes were back to looking into mine.

“But I think I’ll keep calling you that for now.”

Naughty Girl
By Deep

©Deep 2017

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N37CMNE

 

Amara from I Am Yours

I Am Yours

 

Two days had passed since I acted like a cat in heat in my office and Noah was only too happy to take me out of my misery. We’d moved from my desk to the wall, then to the floor, barely stopping to breathe in between sessions. Sex between us had always been a marathon where we teetered between sprinting and going long distance. Whatever way we came together it was always in sync. We instinctually knew what to do to please each other. He knew how to bite my neck at just the right place right as I was getting ready to climax. I knew to pull his ass into me just as he was close to murmuring or hollering my name.

We know each other and I know that I’m falling and falling fast.

When we finally stopped to rest, me straddling him on his lap, our breathing slowing, he rubbed my back and I snuggled and sighed into his neck breathing in the musky scent of him. That moment was what it was all about. That moment when you know you are with the one that brings you peace. When you feel most like yourself and not like an imposter. When you feel love and know you are loved.

I drove out to Cami’s apartment in Highland Park that Saturday, to join her for a jewelry party she was hosting. Cami had an entrepreneurial spirit that showed itself in the form of her selling jewelry, candles, and skin care products. Me being the wonderful friend that I am, I supported each venture stopping short of signing up to sell the products too. I just don’t have the time to invest in all the parties and stuff. Or maybe it’s because of all the social contact involved in the hours I’d rather be alone. Either way, I enjoyed these things with her handling it and me chewing on tasty hors d’oeuvres while selecting items I had no real use for but ended up being displayed in my house. Cami is my girl.

I entered her apartment with my key, the smell of Mexican cooking hit me, smiling as I listened to her singing off key to Beyoncé’s Crazy In Love. The big bright pink fiesta sign that said, “Hola” let me know what her theme was for the evening. I moved toward her small galley style kitchen and surprised her when I joined in on her singing “Got me lookin so crazy right now. Your love’s got me lookin so crazy right now!”

“Girl you scared the mess out of me!” She was holding onto her chest and I might have been worried if she wasn’t grinning. She gave me a quick hug before going back to her grilled chicken pieces.

“Need help with anything?” I asked hoping she had it covered while moving to sit down before I fell down. Having hot sex for the first time in a long time tended to wear you out. I was worn o-u-t. You hear me? Well. Fantastically worn. The way his hands held my hips, pulling me into him on each deep thrust. I had to do a mental head shake just to clear my head of the image of our skin sliding against each other as we worked our way to another mind-blowing orgasm.

Pretty soon my hands would start to tremble if I didn’t stop thinking about him. But his constant texts with my responses back to him were a reminder of what we’d done and that we wanted to do it again, preferably today. But I was avoiding the look he’d given me before he walked me to my car the other night. It was the look that said he wouldn’t accept just this. There had to be more.

“What did you do, girl?” I looked over at Cami who was observing me intently.

“What are you talking about?” Dang. She didn’t miss a thing!

“Well for one, I told you I was cool that I just needed you to help me greet folks when they start rolling in at five. And the other thing is you have this “he fucked the shit out of me” look that I haven’t seen since. . . wait, since you were with Noah.”

I couldn’t hide my grin; unable to contain it despite the consequence of her asking me more questions I really didn’t want to answer.

“Did you hook up?” When I nodded she sat down next to me at her bistro table. “I mean did you screw him?”

“Yes! And why must you be so, so, crude about it. We had sex.”

“Amara, you and Keith have sex. You and Noah, screw. Y’all go hard, heavy. Get it in. He blows your back out.”

I busted out laughing. “You are a mess. Okay, yes. We screwed and it was good.”

“I can tell. You are glowing,” She smiled.

Her words were sincere. Not one bit of sarcasm which made me admit, “I’m afraid though.”

“I knew you would be when this happened,” she said and when I gave her a look she said, “Come on; the whole world knew you’d make it back together. You just needed to stop fighting it, Sis. So tell me, where did you do it? Some broom closet somewhere?”

“No,” I laughed. In my office. On the desk. Against the wall. Sideways, upside down. You name it, we did it. But I kept that to myself. Some stuff you just didn’t share—not even with your closest girlfriend.

“So what comes next?” I shrugged, because admittedly, I really had no idea. When I said I’d worry about picking up the pieces afterwards, I never anticipated there’d be no pieces. I didn’t feel pulled apart really. Only fantastically whole, like he was what I needed in order to feel alive, and again, I was terrified and giddy at the same time.

I watched her get up to take the chicken off the fire and move it to the side and start chopping veggies for the fajitas.

“I have to give that more thought, Cami. This man, has me all wrapped up and we’ve just started again. That’s what terrifies me about him. That he can do that to me. It’s like he pulls the strings. But where will he try to pull me, if I let him?”

She sighed while now sautéing the peppers and onions. “That’s called love, Amara. When you love, you have to trust. There is no other way to do it. See where it takes you. If it falls apart, you will have had one of the greatest times in your life. If it lasts forever, you’ll never have to know what it feels like for it to end. But until you take a chance, you’ll never know.”

She kept her back to me but her posture was so tense like she was holding back something and I realized it had been a while since I asked what was going on with her. The project, Noah, my mom. My father. All of it had kept me in my own feelings.

“I hear you.” Wanting to change the topic and to become a better friend I asked, “So what’s been going on with you?”

“Nothin’,” she said while her back was still to me.

“Which tells me everything. You always have a million and one things going on.” And she did. She was a kindergarten teacher, she volunteered at the senior citizen’s home in Glendale. She was an active member of her sorority, running fundraising events every month. And she had all these side hustles.

She turned to me then and leveled with me finally. “Okay. I’m seeing someone but before you ask me a lot of questions, it’s new and I’m not sure about him yet.”

“So how can you tell me to trust and go full steam ahead?”

“Because you and Noah are like two halves of a whole—that’s why. This guy is new and I need to see if he’ll do the things he says he’ll do. Been down that road before.”

“I know.” And we both remained silent reflecting on the man that left her pregnant with a black eye and broken heart. Timothy was the reason I was putting the brakes on Keith and I. When that loser found out she was pregnant, he got violent and she ended up staying with me for a few months before finding a place on her own. While she was with me, she’d lost the baby.

She always claimed it was a blessing in disguise and I guess I could understand that. Not wanting to be tied to a person with such ugliness inside of them. But still to lose both things you wanted, had to be hard. And hard seems like too simple a word.

“Well, whoever he is, he needs to treat you right. And when you’re ready to tell me more, I’m here to hear about him.”

She gave me a small smile but it never reached her eyes. She seemed a little sad but intent on not talking about it which I understood all too well. When you weren’t ready to talk, no one could pry it out of you. They needed to just let you be, and that’s what I had to do for her. I let it go and finished helping her set up even with my awesomely sore limbs.

That night after I left her place, having ordered three pairs of dangling silver earrings and a sterling silver bangle bracelet, I thought about what Cami had said. Love and trust must come hand in hand. Otherwise it doesn’t work. And Noah wanted my trust along with my love. He already had one from me. Could I risk it all and give him the other?

I got in the house and started a bath. While I waited for the tub to fill with Vanilla scented bubble bath and some Epson salt, I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Noah. “I’m ready. At least I’d like to try.”

Before I could even put my toe in the water he replied with, “I’m happy to hear it. Can we start right now?”

“I’d love to,” I responded while hoping he’d at least allow me to soak so I could be ready for more of his sweet punishment.

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Be With Me- Available Now

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Even after two years, I still loved being around him which was why I was excited to get home to him. Home. Home had become a blend of his house and my house. We spent most of our time together although it was mostly at his house, because he tended to cook more and we’d eat, sit in front of the fireplace, sip wine, listen to the oldies, talk, laugh and make love.

Even after all this time, he made me feel nervous around him and by nervous I mean, he made me feel like I felt in the beginning. Never sure how to be with him because he was so spontaneous, honest, raw, silly, funny and so damn fine that I still got wet when he called me in the middle of the day.

But it’s not always been easy. There have been challenges that we overcame together because we both decided to grow up a little. Me, I became less rigid and accepted fun in my life, which he is always full of; him, he became more patient.

There was a time when I thought I would have to dropkick a few chicks from his past, but I’m happy to report that no blows were thrown. I managed to hold onto decorum. Like when Lisa was over his house when I arrived one evening. Roman told me that Lisa was a friend and only a friend, but I knew better. To me, Lisa seemed like the type of chick that stayed around much longer than she was welcomed. In fact, that day she was not invited, according to Roman, but she showed up anyway. They were talking when I arrived to spend the night.

Before Roman could tell me he had company, I came upon Lisa reclining on the couch where I usually sat and where we made love many times. She looked too damn comfortable, but I said ‘hi’, introduced myself and told them both to have a good time while I went to his bedroom to unpack.

See here’s the thing, Roman was not going to tolerate me going all psycho on Lisa; not in his house. So the best route was the high road. I claimed my territory and let her know I wasn’t threatened by her being there. And I wasn’t threatened … okay, maybe just a little, but the fact was, I didn’t like her there. And Lisa left not too long after I left the room, because I think she realized that she could no longer have the friendship she wanted to have with Roman.

Women keep at least three or four options until they get married and even then, she still has a couple just in case shit doesn’t go well. Later that night after Lisa left, I was quieter than usual and Roman knew it had to do with Lisa. So he asked me straight up, what was wrong. I said nothing, but the truth was I was pouting over the fact that he allowed another woman to come over unannounced.

You see, to me, it had nothing to do with a woman per say, just that she seemed to have privileges reserved only for me, or so I thought since he used to trip about the idea of women showing up like they belonged there. He claimed that she had a man.

And?

That’s what I asked him, “And?” and he said nothing.

So yes, I was a bit spoiled. I admit to that. I was feeling a certain kind of way despite the front I put on for him and Lisa’s benefit. Roman knew it too. So in no uncertain terms that night, Roman made me see that I was his one and only woman.

He started to undress me as I pouted. Even if I was determined to stay a little ticked, I let him pull me close. I let him love my negative feelings away.

His lips and his kiss were hot and demanding. My lips opened beneath his, taking his tongue deep. He tasted incredible, like he was mine, made just for me. He explored the inside of my mouth with slow and sensual strokes, licking and tasting me until I moaned with pleasure. He sank one hand into my hair, while his other hand held me tightly to him. I gasped, feeling his hard erection nudge me between my thighs.

When Roman shuddered, I knew I wasn’t alone in how intense this moment was. With a rough sound, he seized me and lifted me onto his lap to straddle his strong, muscular thighs making me grind, writhing against him. Roman groaned, his voice harsh and ragged. Cradling my face in his big hands, he kissed me hard and hungrily. I kissed him back with equal fervor, afraid to even breathe and lose this groove between us.

As his lips moved across my cheek and down my throat, my head fell back and my eyes drifted closed. He kissed my neck and suckled the pulse at the hollow of my throat, while his hot breath caressed my skin and made me wet with his tongue.

His lips trailed a path down my chest to my breasts. He pressed them together with his callused hands, drawing both nipples into his warm, wet mouth. I cried out, heat flooding me, my swelling clit making me grind harder against his dick. He used his tongue, lips, and teeth to tease and torment the tips of my flesh, causing my spine to arch and my hands to grip the back of his head, holding him tightly against me.

“Oh God Roman…” I whispered, aching for more as desire pounded through my body.

In one fluid motion, he had me on my back and covering my body with the weight of his. His heart beat hard against mine, and his breathing was as rapid as my own. I looped my arms around his neck as he leaned in and gave me his tongue to flick and them I opened up more for his ravenous kiss. Reaching between our bodies, he cupped my wet sex. I moaned, arching against his hand and opened my legs. I wanted him inside me, wanted him to assuage the urgent, pulsing ache between my thighs. When he lowered his head, flicking his tongue over my breast, I whimpered his name.

“Roman.”

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured, the deep, masculine timbre of his voice vibrating through me. He blew gently on the swollen bud of my nipple, and I shuddered in his arms. “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” I breathed. In one thrust, he was inside of me thrusting hard and deep. He was relentless.

“Don’t ever question whether I love you or whether you are the only woman that I want or have ever needed in my life. You hear me, Maya?” Each word punctuated by a deep thrust.

Because I hadn’t responded, he hit it harder.

“Understand, Maya?”

I nodded, my breath too labored to speak, but that was enough for him to be satisfied. He kissed me again, pumping in and out, with no mercy, giving it to me how I like it. Before I knew it, my body started to warm from the inside out. My womb clenched hard and then released in spasms around his hot length. We both screamed out as we came together in a rush.

So anyway, after that night, Roman and I seemed to have a smoother time. The women of the past stopped calling, Lisa mysteriously became ghost, and he and I had peace.

Be With Me

By Aja and Roy Glenn

 

© Aja Graves 2016

© Roy Glenn 2016

She Loves Words Publishing

 

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Sensually Erotic Interview with Aja…

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If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it. — Anais Nin

 

Many of you may not know this but I used to interview authors quite a bit before I picked up my pen for serious. One of my co-interviewers was Deloris Harper and we worked hard to make the chats we ran, interesting, engaging and of benefit to the people with the pen. So, it’s quite an honor for Deloris to shine some light upon me, asking me a few questions about what I do. Please continue to read what I like to call me sitting across from Barbara Walters but this lady is much more beautiful and so dear to my heart.

 

1. As an avid reader, I have noticed most authors have their own writing style. How would you describe yours?

 It took me a while to figure it out Deloris, but I’d say my writing is sensually erotic passion mixed with realistic, and soulful interactions.

 

2. Wow that’s a mouthful Aja! How do you go about writing a story like that? Where do you get the inspiration to write sensually erotic passion mixed with realistic, and soulful, interactions?

 Inspiration for me comes from life and art, music, and my own interactions with people and with the man that loves on me. I take all of that, which is stored in me and write the stories that my characters want me to tell.

 

3. Can I test you on your writing style? Let’s say I give you an object and you make it sensually erotic passion mixed with realistic, and soulful, interactions. The object is a key, but this is a two-part question. First make the key sensual as you do when you write. 2. Tell me how that key could play into the sensually erotic passion of one of your books?

 I may be cool to touch on most days since almost no one thinks to warm me up. I’m hard, unyielding and only created to serve someone else’s needs which I do gladly time and time again without any praise for getting the job done. But Friday he treated me differently. I felt him reaching around for me, the sounds of his frustration palpable with each huffing breath he took but then he located me. His callused brown hands rubbing over me and clutching me tightly as if I saved his life. The time spent in his palm was glorious. Warm, intoxicating and then he placed me in a pocket of fabric close to his chest which kept me in my current heated state. The silk of his shirt caressed the metal of my skin and I shivered as I moved to some destination. If only he could touch me again like I mattered again. A few moments later, I got my wish. He kissed me, the soft texture gliding against me before he placed me into the lock which I quickly disengaged from sheer joy. And then I was tossed on a hard surface again. Cold, unneeded…discarded until I have a purpose again.

The key description could easily be a heroine from one of my stories until she finds the love of her life.

 

4. When did you know you wanted to be a writer? Did you know what kind if stories you wanted to tell? When did your writing become sensual?

 By the time I was six-years-old I knew I wanted to be a writer but I also wanted to be a neonatologist. I pursued a life in medicine until my sophomore year in undergrad. By then, the struggles of organic chemistry convinced me that maybe being someone’s surgeon wasn’t for me though I probably could have stuck with it. I was taught I could do anything I put my mind to but the lack of passion I had for it was the answer I needed to change my path. Writing didn’t come back into my life until about 4 or 5 years ago. That was when I started to share my words and a few years later I was writing a book for completion.

I didn’t start off knowing the stories I wanted to tell. I had always been a short story writer and most of those stories came from sparks of inspiration. Usually love was involved and maybe the implication of sex but as I became more woman, and my experiences became more adult, sensuality which is embedded in me, came out in my words.

 

5. Who was the first character who caught your attention? When I ask that I mean, what character did you feel the need to expose how sexy he could be and if it wasn’t the male character which female?

 In everything I publish, I focus on the woman. I always want her to be my story because it is within us as women, that we attract the right or wrong man for us. So I would say Amara was the woman that caught my attention first in a way that I wanted to expose her layer by layer. And boy, did she have some layers. In her innermost deepest layer was a highly sensual, sexual, sensitive, intensely loving and vulnerable woman and I love her for being her.

 

6.Three men walk into a bar; you see them — you feel a connection to all three. Of course these men are Roman, Noah and Joseph. Each man offers his own kind of sexy soulful erotic magnetism. Tell us what attracts to each man individually?

 Roman- His confidence-borderline arrogance. It’s sexy on him and it makes me take notice of him when no one else would likely stand out like that, without saying a word. I’d want him to tell me what time and where to meet him.

Noah- His smile, slow, easy. His ability to approach me with something witty and stimulating would be all I would need to want to sip my drink slowly so that I could catch every word he drops as we talk. He’d likely get me to go out with him later.

Joseph- His boyish charm, but intensity that says there’s nothing young about him would have me wanting to dance all night with him and when he grabbed me by my waist to pull me close to him, I’d want to go with him wherever he takes me. I’d trust him for some reason.

 

7. Amara, Savanah and Maya are out for ladies’ night; men see them and are drawn to their sensuality, what specific thing about each woman has men eating out of their hands?

 Maya- How well put together she is. From her looks, to her quick come backs, she’s the type of woman that could bring a man to his knees. He should have a cushion to soften the impact.

Amara- Her cat eyes, lush lips and soft curves makes them come to her like bees to honey but once they are talking to her they realize how brilliant and intelligent she is. They could talk to her for hours and not get bored.

Savanah- She screams sex. Long sexy legs, deep dark brown skin that illuminates from within. Her laughter tinkles and kicks men in the gut. She is freedom and they want to experience it with her.

 

8.The males are the star of the show in romance novels, but it’s important to make the women memorable too; how have or how do you plan to make your heroines memorable?

 The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do is write the story my characters tell me, the way they give it to me. If I stay authentic to who they are, flaws and all, whether anyone likes the people they are, matters less than me being genuine. Do readers connect because they see a bit of themselves in the flawed character and that brings about emotion? Likely; and that is art for me.

 

 

You can connect with Deloris through A Place For Books book club on Facebook. And you can find me just about anywhere doing what I do…

If you enjoyed this interview, say so… until next time. Live and Love.

 

-Aja

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hard to Love

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Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope. -Maya Angelou

 

I’ve often been accused of writing complicated women. Women who don’t react in a way that would make it easy for the hero to love her. It’s the harder way to tell a story of love but surprisingly I’m not just telling a story of love but one of life also. None of us do exactly as we are told. If you’ve read the Good Book (read: Bible) even just a little bit, starting at the beginning, you know we’ve been working against our best interests since the beginning of time yet we are still here, living and loving, creating by Grace. We are more than just an existence; we are the manifestation of all that is good and yes sometimes, what is bad in the world. Because of that fact, as a writer who likes writing people as they are, I have to show the good, the bad, and that ugly we’d wish didn’t exist in a romantic love story. Yet, it’s the only way to see if the love that I insist they both pick up and try, is genuine; if it is worth fighting for.

So yes, I will agree to choosing the most hard to love people at times because I in fact believe she or he is worthy of that love. She is worth the patience, kindness, goodness in the world and if there is a person who has not only the fortitude but the desire to embark on the journey of life with her, I want to write about them. What a fantastic story to write, really. Imagine the life they go on to have; one in which they have grown, have perfected in such a way that these two individuals are better than before. Why wouldn’t I want those people? Not perfect in the beginning; but boy when I get done with them…

I’m telling you this as a warning that those sticking with me won’t get easy but you will get life, love, and all the goodness you deserve.

 So tell me, who is the most hard to love character that you found you loved anyway?

 

-Aja

Recommended Reads: Give Me All by Roy Glenn

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Chapter One

Sydney

“Don’t be late for your cousin’s wedding,” those were the last words that my somewhat repressive mother said to me before we got off the phone this morning.
And I wasn’t going to be late.
I had my hair appointment that morning at eight and was out of there by ten. I did the mani-pedi-wax thing before going to get my makeup done by Tia at the MAC cosmetics counter and was back home before noon. I put on the cutest red sleeveless Likely Pentz dress with an alluring cutout detailed halter neckline, cutout front and vented back. I was out of the house by three and since the wedding wasn’t until four, I had plenty of time to make it to Victor and Natasha’s wedding.
That was until Bambi, my 1998 Toyota Celica, began shaking and spitting right before smoke began seeping out from under the hood. She rattled, shook and popped before the car shut off and I struggled to guide it to the side of the road.
“Great! Just great,” I said as I got out of the car. “This is all I need.” I walked around to the front of the car, as smoke billowed from under the hood.
For a hot second, I thought about opening the hood to see if I could see what was wrong, but I quickly moved on from that idea. I knew absolutely nothing about cars, so my opening the hood to have a peek would have been more than pointless.
My next thought was to call somebody to come pick me up and see about Bambi. My shade tree mechanic cousin, Paul has been keeping Bambi running for years. But he was going to be in Victor’s wedding, so calling him was out of the question.
And besides, I really didn’t want to call anybody to come rescue me. For a number of reasons, some of them I admit are well deserved; I have a reputation in our family for being undependable and just a bit flighty. A reputation I’ve been working really hard to live down, but it’s hard. Once your family sees you a certain way, it’s hard for them to see you any other way no matter what you do.
The last thing I wanted to hear was, somebody had to go get poor, unreliable, can’t get herself together, Sydney. And I am so tired of that talk that I don’t know what to do. So if I had to walk to the church, that’s what I would do.
Just then, a new black Infiniti Q60 with New York plates drove by me and pulled over on the side of the road. When the vehicle started to back up and then a man got out, I got ready to say thank you for stopping and that I appreciated his offer to help, but somebody was on their way there to get me. You know, because there are crazy people in this world. But when he started walking toward me, I reconsidered whether I wanted to amend that speech.
This man coming toward me was like hot sex on a beach. Sexy, delicious and probably against a few laws, but worth the risk. The closer he got, the more I realized that I knew this man. “Rod?” I said tentatively.
“Sydney?” he said in the same manner.
“Yes,” I said as I continued to eye Rod’s chocolate brown skin, rich brown eyes, framed by thick eye brows and a tall, athletic build that was the feature for many of my wet dreams.
Seeing him coming toward me, casually dressed in black shorts, a black Batman T-shirt and black flip-flop sandals, reminded me of the recurring fantasy I had about him. I’d run into him at some city-sponsored event and we’d talk and mingle with other people, continuing to make eye contact. Since I rarely drove to events back then, when it was time for me to go, I’d call a cab. He’d come out at the same time and say, “Would you like a ride?”
And I’d bite my bottom lip, look at him hard and say, “I’d love to ride.”
We’d go to his car, one with enough space in the front seats so that when he pulled over, I could climb over to his seat and straddle his lap.
For some reason, his legs always made me want to climb on top of him and ride him so hard and fast that when he leaned me back to catch my tight nipples in his hot wet mouth, I would barely hear the car horn as I leaned back onto it. He’d given me that ride in my fantasies more times than I can count, and it was the best fantasy ride I’d ever had.
“I thought that was you, Sydney. How have you been?”
“I’m fine, Rod,” I said and he nodded his head.
His name was Rod Greenwood. He and I used to work together for the city of Jacksonville when I was a code compliance officer and he worked as a contract compliance inspector about five or six years ago. At the time, I was deeply involved with Devondre, but I always thought that Rod was fine as hell, so we had this kind of a smile, wave and flirt thing going on until he abruptly quit and announced that he was moving to New York.
“Having problems with your car, I see.”
“Yes. I was on my way to my cousin’s wedding when Bambi decided to quit on me.”
“You want me to take a look at it?” Rod offered.
“Actually, no. But you’d be doing me a big favor if you would take me to the wedding.”
“No problem,” Rod said and extended his hand toward his Infiniti.
We walked to the car and Rod opened the door and held it while I got in. I love a man that knows how to treat a lady. It’s an art form that is lost on a lot of men these days, but it was apparently alive and well in this man. Once he closed the car door, I watched him walk his sexy chocolate ass around to get in the car and thought about my fantasy.
“The interior is certainly big enough for me to ride him,” I said aloud as he got in the car.
“What did you say?”
“I said nice car,” I lied quickly.
“Oh, thank you,” he said and started it up. “Where to?”
“Open Arms on Dunn Avenue.”
“I know exactly where that is,” Rod said confidently and drove in that direction. “So, how’ve you been, Sydney?”
“I’ve been doing fine, Rod, what about you?”
“Me too, doing fine. You still working for the city?”
“No, I quit about a year after you did. I work as a commercial leasing consultant for Prime Commercial Realty now.”
I didn’t think that he needed to know that I quit that job after Devondre brought Candace Navarro into our world to break my heart, or the fact that I’ve had three other jobs in between. That would be too much information for the purposes of this conversation.
“You like that better than being a code compliance officer?” Rod asked with the same smile that he used to get me all hot and bothered with back in the day.
“Yes, very much. In this job, I still get to be out and interact with people while making them happy about their new office space; not making them miserable by telling them that their wiring, lighting, and air conditioning are not up to code and needs to be redone.”
“I’m sure.”
“What about you? Last time I saw you, you were headed for New York to take a job in the mayor’s office.”
“Yeah, well, I stayed there for about a year, and then I got a job in the private sector with a major construction company. But when they started downsizing mid-level managers like myself, I was ready to do something else, so I accepted the buyout package they offered me and came home.”
“How long have you been back?”
“Three weeks, and I gotta say, it is good to be back. I loved New York, but it was too cold, it snows too much and the beaches were nasty.”
I laughed. “Well, welcome back, we missed you while you were gone.” I started to say that I missed him, but I thought that using ‘we’ was safer. Even though Mr. Rod Greenwood had been the subject of my fantasy life back then, the truth was that I knew nothing about him and certainly didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.
I snuck a quick glance at Rod’s strong brown legs as he drove. His muscular thighs were speaking to me, saying that maybe I should get to know him.
When we arrived at the church, wedding guests were arriving and going inside. I saw my Aunt Anita and Uncle B along with my twin cousins, Desana and Dior, walking toward the building. Rod put the car in park, grabbed his cell phone, which let me know that he was planning to ask me for my number, got out, came around and opened my door for me.
When he extended his hand, I accepted it and got out. “Thank you,” I said because, as I mentioned, I do love being treated like a lady.
“You’re welcome.”
Instead of saying goodbye and jumping back in his car, Rod surprised me and escorted me to the door. When we got to the entrance of the church, Rod turned to me with those eyes of his. “Well here we are.”
“Yes. And thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“It was my pleasure,” Rod said and laughed a little. “When I saw that it was you in that dress, I didn’t have any choice. You looked so amazing that I had to stop.”
“Is that your way of saying I look nice in the dress?”
“Sydney,” he said and took a step closer to me. “You look incredible in that dress and I apologize for it not being the first thing out of my mouth. You are even more beautiful now than you were when I saw you last, and you were drop dead gorgeous then.”
“Nice recovery.”
“Thank you. I was worried that it was too much.”
I laughed.
“Well, Sydney, it was good seeing you again.”
“Good seeing you again too,” I said as more of my family arrived and were giving us the evil eye.
“We should get together sometime soon and, you know, talk about old times.”
“Sounds good,” I said and he handed me his cell phone. I quickly entered and saved my number and handed him back the cell phone. “I gotta run, but call me.”

Chapter Two

As my Uncle B, my favorite aunt, Anita and my cousins Desana and Dior walked up, I watched Rod as he walked back to his car. I’d never seen him in shorts and he definitely had the legs for it. Rod looked back and stopped when he saw that I was looking at him. We stood there briefly exchanging the type of glance that we shared when we worked together. As my Uncle B held the door for me, Rod and I waved to each other before going into the church.
“He’s cute,” Dior said as we walked to our row.
“Nice legs,” Desana added.
“I love that dress, Sydney,” Aunt Anita said.
“Thank you.”
“Bet your mama hates it,” she said.
“I know she will,” I said and giggled as we took our seats on the groom’s side of the church. “Some days it’s hard to believe that the two of you are sisters that grew up in the same house.”
“Patrice has always been uptight like that, even when we were kids. Never wanted to have any fun; always telling on me and your Aunt Susan.” Anita shook her head. “She was a mess.”
I just nodded my head because I had heard the stories before and even if I hadn’t, I had firsthand experience in how my mother was. After all, my brother James and I grew up in the house she ran with an iron fist. All of us, including my father, had to look and act a certain way, especially in public to be able to exist in her world or else there would be consequences.
Having to hear her mouth.
Believe me, her tongue was sharp and nobody wanted to hear it and we went out of our way to avoid it.
It had the effect of making us into people that we actually weren’t. My brother James is gay. It’s the family secret that everybody knows, but nobody talks about, and that includes my mother, but she is in denial about it. When he is around the family, which he goes out of his way to avoid, he dresses and acts the way she expects him to.
I developed a reputation of being a bit of a prude and giving the nickname the Virgin Sydney, which I always thought was hilarious. I was a tale of two Sydney’s; the conservative dressing, prudish acting Sydney and the freaky, want to do it all the time Sydney.
“But I can tell you are working to break out of your mother’s mold. It’s showing, Sydney.”
“Shhhh. Don’t tell anybody, Aunt Anita.”
It was then that I saw my mother coming toward us.
“Hello, Mommy. You look nice in that dress,” I said just to get a rise out of her and she chose not to comment. Aunt Anita covered her mouth to keep from laughing as her sister smoothly changed the subject.
“I was beginning to think I’d have to send someone for you,” my mother said.
I wanted to say something smart, but had learned long ago that it would only lead to more backlash. So I took the high road. “No need to come get me, I’m here now.”
And I left it at that. Had I mentioned my car trouble, she’d likely start in on how I knew better than to try to borrow money from her for repairs. Little did she know, I could handle my own even if it would put me back to zero.
“I know how you like to be fashionably late, but you were cutting it kind of close,” she said and cut her eyes at Aunt Anita, who made a career of arriving everywhere late.
“Hello, Anita.”
“Hey, Patty,” she said. “Doesn’t Sydney look beautiful in that dress?”
“Yes,” she grudgingly and quietly said before returning to her seat.
The wedding was beautiful. Natasha wore a Galina Signature chiffon dress with a low V-neck and back. Her best friend, Vanessa was matron of honor and her sisters, Victoria and Katharine were her bridesmaids and they looked beautiful in their peach strapless crinkle chiffon dresses with a sweetheart neckline and ruched detail.
The groom, my handsome cousin Victor, wore black tails by Joseph & Feiss. His brother Stevie was his best man and the groomsmen were James and Paul; their tails were grey and they looked very handsome as well.
Instead of sitting at the table with my Mom and Dad and being subjected to my mom’s negative comments, I sat at the table with my cousin, Rhonda in the seat the she was saving just in case her mother showed up, which she didn’t. But if she had actually come, I was prepared to move.
I’ve never met Rhonda’s mother; I wasn’t born when she left her children for a man. To my knowledge, even though they’ve talked to her, they haven’t seen her since she left. At that point, Rhonda had to grow up to help our grandfather raise Stevie and Victor.
“I meant to tell you earlier that your dress looks so cute on you,” Rhonda said as I slid in the seat next to her.
“Thank you”
“I was hoping you’d be able to sit next to me.”
“Oh, really. Why is that? So you can get on me about almost being late to your brother’s wedding. No need, my mother beat you to it.”
Rhonda laughed. “I figured she would and no that is not why I wanted you to sit here. It’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to spend any time together. I’ve been so busy with work and … well you know. So, are things going good for you?”
“Well, things were going well until this morning.”
Rhonda is not only like a big sister to me, she was big sister to all of us. See, we are a very close family, so we all grew up together and Rhonda being the oldest was very much in charge of her little cousins. I was the youngest until Desana and Dior, who are ten years younger than I am, were born. They were the babies in the family for years, until Uncle Willie got married to Tina and now they have five little kids.
I looked up to Rhonda, she had it all together and I wanted to be like her. She and I got really close about three years ago when nobody had seen or talked to me in weeks. My brother, James came by a couple of times to see about me, but I wouldn’t answer the door, even though he knew I was there, so he told Rhonda.
When she got there, Rhonda could hear music playing in my apartment. But Rhonda being Rhonda, she didn’t knock on the door, she called me and because it was Rhonda calling, I answered.
“I’m sorry. I’m not at home and I probably won’t be home until late tonight,” I tried to tell her.
“Open the door, Sydney?”
“How can -”
“Stop it. I’m standing outside your door; you were listening to Sade until you just turned it down to answer my call. So stop playing with me and open this door.”
Since it was Rhonda, I let her in. The first thing she noticed was that I was drunk and I hadn’t bathed in four days. After fussing at me for the way I looked, smelled and the condition of my apartment, she asked me what was wrong with me. I tried to lie to her and say that I was fine, but she wasn’t buying it. So I told her the truth.
Devondre. What was wrong was that I loved him, but he loved somebody else. We had been together for six months when he started telling me that he wanted to have a threesome, like every other man I’ve ever met. And since I was in love and was a little bi-curious, I agreed. It was fun the first few times we all did it and when it was over, we’d send the woman home and we’d be so turned on that me and Devondre would do it all night. Then Devondre brought Candace Navarro into our world and all of a sudden, she’s invited to spend the night with us and after a few more times, she’s sleeping next to him. Next thing I know, he’s telling me it’s over because he feels trapped and he’s not ready for a commitment.
I called him for weeks, but he didn’t answer his phone. I was calling him every day, leaving messages telling him how much I loved him and begging him to please take me back. But he never would speak to me. What was so bad about that was knowing that he wasn’t alone. Knowing that while I was begging him to take me back, he was with someone else.
After that day, me and Rhonda have gotten a lot closer, finding that we had more in common than either one of us thought we did. Rhonda told me about some of the things that she had gone through with men so I knew she could relate. She told me that it was going to hurt for some time and she damn sure was right about that. I also found out that I wasn’t the only woman in the family that liked to do it all the time.
“I heard that Bambi quit on you on the way to the wedding,” Rhonda remarked.
“Yeah, Bambi started shaking and smoke was coming from under the hood.”
Rhonda laughed. “That’s how Bambi rolls, ain’t it?”
She’s been telling me for a while now that I needed to get a new car, and I keep telling her that I’m not trying to get a car note.
“Usually, but this time she shut off on me.”
“So, you gonna tell me or are you gonna make me ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Who was the cute guy with the nice legs that brought you to the wedding?” Apparently, Desana and I weren’t the only women who noticed his legs.
“His name is Rod Greenwood.”
“This somebody new?”
“No. I’ve known Rod for years. We used to work together when I worked for the city. When Bambi quit on me, he just happened to drive by and was nice enough to give me a ride to the church, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” was Rhonda’s only response.
“What?”
“That’s all, huh? He just happened to drive by and was nice enough to give you a ride to the church.”
I smiled. “That’s all.”
But there was something about bumping into him today that made me feel less certain that that was indeed all there was to it. I wanted to see him again, and I hoped he would call me.
“I didn’t just meet you, Sydney.” Rhonda rolled her eyes and looked away, but turned back quickly. “That’s all for now, you mean.” As I said, Rhonda and I are a lot alike. She and I shared the same … let’s call it ideology about men and relationships.
Based on past experience, I think that there is a definite shelf life on a relationship with a man. Then it’s time to get some fresh meat, and even though she is in an interesting kind of relationship with Randall Washington, Rhonda agrees … for the most part, I guess.
You see Rhonda has never been married and has no children of her own. She loves children, so she has really become close to Randall’s two daughters, Taylor and Ashley. Where it gets interesting is that she’s also gotten very close with his ex-wife, Susanna.
“We are three working professionals and it’s all about doing what’s best for the girls,” she says, but the three of them appear … how should I say this, very familiar with one another each time I’ve seen them together.
“Where’s Randall,” I asked more to get the conversation away from Rod, “And is the ex-Mrs. Randall joining us today?”
Rhonda did that thing she does when she is acting like she’s trying not to give me the finger. “No, Sydney, Susanna and the girls are not coming and Randall is over there talking to that man.” Rhonda pointed and I followed her finger to this fine ass specimen of a man that I’d never seen around before. He must be part of Natasha’s family.
“Hmmm.”
“As soon as he walked in the church, Randall’s entire mood changed,” Rhonda informed me. “I’ve never seen him look so … so scared before,” Rhonda said and I could tell she was troubled by it.
“What do you think it is?” I asked as the two men separated and Randall started for the table.
Rhonda stood up. “I don’t know, but I bet you I find out,” she said and started walking in the man’s direction.
I found out later from Vanessa that the man was some big-time gangster from New York and his wife, Sandy is Natasha’s cousin. Later at the reception, I met a very handsome man named Napoleon who told me that he was their bodyguard.
He and I hung out for a while and he tried to get me to come back to the Ponte Vedra Inn, where they were staying, to have mindless sex with a man I just met, who was leaving for Italy in the morning and I would never see him again.
I declined the invitation. But he did have me feeling him, with that smooth West Indian accent and that package I felt when we were dancing, but no. Napoleon did get me and a guest added to the VIP list for The Regulators tour, which was coming to Jacksonville soon at the Veterans Memorial Arena.
When the reception was over, I rode with Paul and Vanessa to check on Bambi. Paul got in and tried to start it up, but it wouldn’t turn over. “I think that she’s finally quit on you for good,” he said.
“I have Triple A so we can get it towed,” Vanessa said. “The card is in my purse,” she said and went back to their car to get it.
When she did, Paul slipped me a card. “Tell her you’re my cousin and she’ll hook you up with something,” Paul said quietly after Vanessa walked away.
I looked at the card. It belonged to Bria Abbott. She was the woman that he used to mess with before, and some say after he married Vanessa. So you know that I had to ask.
“You and her aren’t still … you know?”
“No, Syd, I’m not still fucking her, but we still talk sometimes.” I looked sideways at Paul. “Now put that away before Vanessa sees it,” he said as Vanessa came back.

© Roy Glenn

On Sale Now!
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01LWDJDX7

Book Spotlight! Raynetta Manees’ All For Love: The SuperStar

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The SuperStar is ready to go home with you!  My new book “All For Love: The SuperStar” (Book 2) is now up for Kindle advance sales! The link to it on Amazon is  http://amzn.to/2cS0it1  

 

For your sampling pleasure I have posted Chapter One of the novel to my website, http://www.RManees.com.   My hero, Darryl Bridges, speaks directly to you, in his own voice!  (It was mind-blowing writing as a man!).  As Darryl will tell you, “I have a hundred million fans but very few friends.”

 

All For Love: The SuperStar – (Darryl’s Story) (Book 2)

“International pop superstar Darryl Bridges counts his fans not in the millions, but in the billions, yet he sleeps alone due to the private tragedy that broke his heart.  Then, in one surprise encounter his world is turned inside out!  But will the very lifestyle that brought him untold fame and fortune cause the destruction of the love he would give his life to save?

 

Widowed businesswoman Angela Delaney has suffered abuse and tragedy as well, and after years of struggle has finally achieved financial stability for herself and the child she was left to raise alone.  The love she thought she would never find miraculously materializes from the most incredible source.  But how much of her present life must she sacrifice to sustain it?

 

Two people so different on the surface, but such soul mates underneath.  But can they survive the multitude of forces conspiring to not only tear them apart but to literally destroy them in the process?  Forces willing to go to any length to demolish their love, even if it includes…murder?”

 

[Book 1 of The SuperStar Series is “All For Love: The SuperStar’s Lady” (Angela’s Story).]

 

Darryl’s  Story is a syncquel to Angela’s story.  It’s not a prequel or a sequel because it takes place not before or after but in the exact same time frame!

 

All advance buyers will have the book automatically downloaded to your Kindle on the official release date, Sept 23.

 

These two books form the foundation for The SuperStar Series, with Book 3 coming in 2017.

SAMPLE SUNDAY: Be With Me

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Here is a sample from Be With Me, Roy’s and my latest release. If you are familiar with Maya and Roman from Unexpected, you’ll find them now in a 2.5 year relationship and extremely happy. It seems… But it wasn’t always smooth sailing.

 

 

After a while, drama like that was no longer an issue, my former female associates stopped calling, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the last woman that Maya had to endure. There was Lisa.

Now I’ve known Lisa for years and over those years, she and I have been varying degrees of friends, but there had always been a physical attraction that was just beneath the surface. We met when I first started working at Abraham, Hall & Associates; Lisa was already working there. She’s an accountant as well and a damn good one, but Lisa is a free spirit who likes to come and go as she pleases and will quit a job and go do something else at the drop of a dime. I remember one afternoon, Lisa called me and said that she told her current boss that she was going home to take a nap and would decide whether or not she wanted to work there anymore.

Anyway, like I said, Lisa and I had varying degrees of friendship; from work friends, to hang out partners, to past occasional fuck buddies, to the best of friends, which is the space we occupy now and have for some time now. In fact, prior to Maya, Lisa was the only woman that ever violated my no unannounced and uninvited visitors at my place rule. Which got to be very interesting a few times when she dropped by unannounced and uninvited while I had company, but that is a story for another venue.

Anyway, a couple of weeks after Tammy, Lisa made one of her unannounced and uninvited visits to my house to announce that she had finally married her longtime boyfriend, Tony. So picture this, she and I are sitting back having a drink, listening to Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers, A Night in Tunisia CD. Lisa had come out of her pumps, made herself comfortable and I’m telling her about this great new relationship that I’m in with Maya.

“You’re right, Roman, Maya sounds wonderful,” Lisa said and genuinely seemed to be happy for me which honestly surprised me a little since she never seemed to think any woman would manage to scoop me up.

“She really is, and the best thing about Maya and I is that we get each other and we allow each other to be who we are. We accept each other for who we are and more importantly, who we aren’t.”

“You really do love her, Roman. I can hear it in your voice and I can see it in your eyes,” Lisa commented.

“I do. I can honestly say that she is the best thing that ever happened to me,” I said and the doorbell rang.

I got up to answer the door, thinking about what I told Lisa about Maya and how perfect we are for each other. When I opened the door, there’s Maya.

At first, my tongue was tied and she looked at me, waiting for my usual response of pulling her in for an embrace and then dragging her into the house to make love to her, but seeing that I had company, I kissed her before pulling back.

“You gonna let me in or just stare at me until I get tired and leave,” she teased.

“Come in, smarty pants.” I kissed her again before closing the door behind her. She did what she always did. Moved towards the bedroom quickly to drop off her bag, not giving me a chance to prepare her for the company I had.

I heard her say, “Oh,” and then Lisa said, “Hi, you must be Maya,” as I was rounding the corner into the living room.

“I’ve heard so much about you. My name is Lisa.”

Maya held her smile in place, but I could tell by her eyes that Maya was more than curious about who Lisa was and I felt horrible for not mentioning her before since we had started sharing everything after our break up and make up. But honestly, since Lisa had moved into the friend stage, I forgot about her. Yeah, men sometimes will forget they have a female friend especially if we’re not screwing her anymore.

Once I explained that Lisa and I were old friends and was sure to say that she stopped by to announce her recent marriage to Tony, Maya said, “Cool. Why don’t I get settled in for the night while you two talk?” And then she moved on.

She effectively let Lisa know a couple of things. You can sit here on that couch with your feet up all you want, but I’m the one that will be here with my man long after you’re gone. And two, that she was not threatened. We could talk all night long, because she had shit to do. And that incident said a lot about the type of woman Maya was: possessive, but secure. Committed without being obsessed. Maya was all of that and for a man that doesn’t like being pinned in, it worked for me.

And maybe that’s why it’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had with a woman.

 

© Aja Graves 2016

© Roy Glenn 2016

Purchase on:

Amazon

B&N and other retailers coming soon!

 

Be With Me is Now Available!

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“I’ve heard so much about you. My name is Lisa.”
Maya held her smile in place, but I could tell by her eyes that Maya was more than curious about who Lisa was and I felt horrible for not mentioning her before since we had started sharing everything after our break up and make up. But honestly, since Lisa had moved into the friend stage, I forgot about her. Yeah, men sometimes will forget they have a female friend especially if we’re not screwing her anymore. Once I explained that Lisa and I were old friends and was sure to say that she stopped by to announce her recent marriage to Tony, Maya said, “Cool. Why don’t I get settled in for the night while you two talk?”  And then she moved on. 
She effectively let Lisa know a couple of things. You can sit here on that couch with your feet up all you want, but I’m the one that will be here with my man long after you’re gone. And two, that she was not threatened. We could talk all night long, because she had shit to do. And that incident said a lot about the type of woman Maya was: possessive, but secure. Committed without being obsessed. Maya was all of that and for a man that doesn’t like being pinned in, it worked for me. And maybe that’s why it’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had with a woman.

Be With Me
Available Now!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01KYQ4R62

Be With Me- Excerpt- Chapter One

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Chapter One

Maya

“Mnnnnn,” he moaned as I continued to work my mouth up and down his hard length, slobbing and bobbing and working my jaw as if I could get a promotion for such talented work. But the truth was, I just loved the taste of having him in my mouth. I know this might lose me some cool points amongst women everywhere, but I loved this more than his deep penetration of my body.

I know, it’s a shocker, but being dicked down comes a very close second, mind you. I mean, having him balls-deep inside of me as he’d been before the sun broke the night before, was just sublime, but this is what I enjoyed most. The look on his face, the intensity in his deep brown eyes as I worked my way down his body, the catch of his breath as I hovered over his hard flesh, teasing and taunting him with what’s to come. The way his eyes rolled back in their sockets when he’s fighting for control as I pull him into the hot sheath of my mouth, and I begin to pay homage to the man I love.

I know I’m good at it. While I may have always enjoyed the act before with him, for the past two years, I’ve learned important things about him. Learned how to take him where I want to take him, and I serve it like a menu, each day and night. Roman can have it differently without even asking, because I know what to offer him based on our moods.

Mostly mine.

His hand palmed my head, holding me tightly to his tensing body as I worked, signaling he was close to letting go if I would just speed up a little and because he made me come so hard this morning, I decided to end his torture.

A little later that morning, while I was making our breakfast, Roman took a shower. I had already been in and out of the shower, to allow him his long hot shower in peace while I started on the Denver omelets. Just as I finished placing the food on the plates, he walked into his kitchen, dressed in his suit and tie, looking every bit as delectable as he tasted earlier.

“Stop it, Maya. I’m not going to make it to my nine o’clock with you looking at me like that.”

He might have said it playfully, but his eyes said differently. Roman’s eyes said that he liked how I made him shake and convulse, grabbing my hair caveman style before I immediately straddled him, rocking on top of him until we were both too spent to move. The look in my man’s eyes screamed that it wouldn’t take much for him to forget breakfast, bend me over this counter, lift up my lounge dress and take me like he knows I like to be taken.

But okay, I’ll behave.

I had things to do too and wasn’t going to get them done if I begged him to fuck me harder like I had earlier. So I smiled back at him, and allowed him to kiss me before he went and sat down at the table, checking his email on his phone. I said nothing as I took a seat and waited for him to finish saying grace before digging in.

This omelet is damn good, I thought.

“So what’s the meeting about anyway? You seemed so intense when you spoke about it being called at the last minute.”

“Yeah. I’m not even sure that this is what the meeting is about, but have I ever told you about Idea Solutions?”

Thinking about it, I said, “No, I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned them.”

“They’re the parent company of Lancaster Steaks.”

“Oh right, me and Stacy used to eat there all the time. The food was good and it wasn’t that expensive for lunch.”

“The company is owned by a quote, family values Christian couple, Curtis and Clare Timmons.”

“I see.”

“They’re not extreme like some of the companies that you hear about on the news that discriminate against people for their lifestyle choices,” Roman chuckled. “Curtis is too much of a businessman to let his personal views interfere with him making money.”

“Can’t let that happen. Money reigns supreme for most people.”

“And that list would include Curtis,” Roman said as he nodded in agreement. “But he does insist that the people working directly with them share his values.” He took a bite of his omelet. “This is good,” he said with his mouth full, not noticing me smiling at his compliment. I loved that he liked my food when he let me cook at his house. He always said this was his castle and he was the chef in it.

“Anyway, a few years … I guess it’s been five years now, the firm was working to earn their business. He and Clare met with the entire staff and once they had, it came down to me or Jake Tyler to handle their accounts.”

“I think I see where this is going.”

“Maybe not. They invited each of us to spend the weekend with them at their house outside of Akron.”

“Hmmm. And how did that go?”

“It went well. Curtis and I got along great; turns out, he’s from Detroit too.”

“Really. That’s a nice coincidence.”

“He grew up not too far from where I did. Naturally, the neighborhood had changed by that time. And that’s what we talked about, how much the city has changed over the years.”

“I imagine that it did change a great deal. Not much unlike inner-city neighborhoods all around the country.”

“And his wife, Clare and I,” he paused like he was thinking deeply about how to describe her. “She is an amazing woman.” He smiled. “We’d sat and talked about everything, from the Bible and her love for Paul’s epistles to being a closet Beyoncé fan, from her views on gay marriage to her wild college days.”

“Seems like a great interview, what happened?”

“The following weekend, Jake goes out there and he took Yvonne and the kids with him. In the end, they went with Jake, because he was married and they thought that was more reflective of their values.”

“They discriminated against you because you’re single.”

“Yeah, but I got a call from Clare. She called because they agreed that I should hear it from them. She said that I was her choice but like I said, in the end they picked Jake to handle the account.”

“Well, when it really comes down to it, it worked out as it should have. You’ve landed some big accounts that have pushed you ahead some and given you those billable hours without Clair and Curtis. Not to say that where you are, is where you must remain, but hopefully you get my point. I do have to ask though, what does that have to do with the meeting?”

“I’m glad you asked, lovely lady, because we are just getting to the juicy part of the story.”

Laughing because I thought the story was already juicy I said, “Okay, lay it on me then.”

For a moment, his eyes went dark as if he was remembering how he did lay it on me this morning. I smiled and looked away, waiting for him to continue.

“Turns out that, shares-our-family-values Jake was having an affair with Amy Stewart.”

“Who’s that?”

“She was their shares-our-family-values personal assistant.”

“I’m sure she was all too happy to assist with all his personal matters, huh?”

“Yep. She got pregnant and it was Jake’s baby. Her husband got a blood test when the baby was born with red hair just like Jake’s. Test came back zero possibility that the husband was the father.”

“That sucks.”

Roman nodded before continuing. “Both Jake and Amy tried to keep it from Curtis and Clare, but they did find out about the baby, and now they are threatening to pull the account. I know Alan and John were on a conference call with them most of the afternoon before I left.”

“So you think that’s what the meeting is about?”

“It might be, but I’m not ruling out it being about redistributing the work after Fred Tapper quit without notice. The meeting is probably about how we are being impacted by it. I was told not to worry, so I’m not going to worry. But you know that I’ve heard that before.”

“I know,” I reached out to grab his hand before he could reach for his cranberry juice, “It will be okay.”

“Everything is always okay in the long run,” Roman said and it seemed that my reassurance did little to get rid of that look on his face.

The tension around his mouth that I thought I could remove when I took care of him this morning was back. I wouldn’t push. I knew better than that so I listened as he talked about how recently his firm’s Senior Accounts Manager, Dana Morris, had gotten on his nerves with an assignment that wasn’t originally assigned to him but he’d be responsible for it anyway. I listened to him speak calmly about it although I knew he was stressing over it, because not once did he ask about my plans for the day like he usually did before he kissed me and left out.

I cleaned up the kitchen and then went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth before going to his room and dressing in the last of the clothes that I brought with me when I arrived a couple of days ago. The turquoise wrap dress fell right above my knees and with the black patent leather wedge heels on my feet, I looked every bit of the cute and professional accountant I had turned into. I’m sure Stacy would be proud of me when I arrived and saw me dressed chic like she had been trying to get me to do for years. I had hoped Roman would see me before he left since he said he loved this color against my skin, but this morning had been a little different. We didn’t leave at the same time since he needed to be in a little earlier to prepare for this meeting. I’m just glad we had time to make love.

So after I dressed, I grabbed my overnight bag and left out, making sure to engage his home security alarm and locking up the way he showed me.

I arrived at work by nine-thirty and was sitting in front of my computer looking at my tasks for the day when Stacy stepped in the door, glowing as if she had gotten some that morning too. I didn’t really want to know those details, so I wasn’t going to ask.

“Good morning, Stace.”

“Morning, Maya,” her singsong voice making her sound every bit like the recently laid woman I thought she was. “You look great, girl. Did you get that dress while you were out with me last week?”

As if I didn’t know how to buy one item of clothing without her.

“Nope, I got this all on my own. I found it on the site that sells dresses at close to wholesale prices. I can share it with you—”

“No, thank you,” she interrupted. “I like to shop at retail price. It makes me feel, I don’t know, like I’m accomplished or something. One of these days I’m going to get you to lighten up.”

“I have and you know it,” I laughed at her. She was a mess. How was wasting money, lightening up? I guess it was, as in lightening up your money.

“I guess so,” she looked at me like she was inspecting me for lint before carrying on. “So you got some this morning, huh?”

“That is none of your business, Stace!”

There was no way I was telling her how Roman had me clawing at the sheets before giving in and grabbing his ass as he thrust in and out of me. Damn that man knew how to work me.

“You did. I can tell. Looking all shiny in the face.”

Because of her antics, I was now reaching for my compact mirror in the top drawer of my desk. Once I had it in front of me, I wanted to deny her point but yes, I was shiny and not even wiping my face with Kleenex was helping.

“It’s called a glow, Maya,” she said sounding very amused on my account which perturbed me. “If I didn’t know you like I did, knowing you calculated your most fertile time of month like clockwork, I’d say you were pregnant, but I do know you better,” she added as I started to dry cough, “So it’s just bomb sex.”

“Yes, it’s just bomb sex,” I wheezed out.

“So now that we settled that, let me tell you about my bomb sex last night. Remember DeShawn that I met last weekend when I went out with Cathy, the one that can’t dance. I don’t know how I thought I could go out with someone that has to count to stay in rhythm. Well anyway…”

Stacy went on about her time out with Cathy, but how the only bright spot was meeting a fine dude that she had already told me about last Monday when she made a similar stop in my office. Once she got through what I knew already, she shared how he invited her over for dinner and when I thought I might hear about how he fixed her a meal worthy of five-star restaurant placement, she went on to say how he laid out a menu full of toe curling, orgasmic samplings. By the time she was through, it was eleven AM and I hadn’t gotten a damn thing done, so I scooted her out of my office by lying and saying I had to go to the bathroom. I loved the girl but I had work to do.

But when I returned and checked my phone, I saw that I missed a call from Roman so I returned his call before doing anything else.

© Aja  2016

© Roy Glenn 2016

 

Preorder your copy of Be With Me here.

 

Breaking Her Rules

Her hips moved on their own accord and when his large hands held her to him, where she could feel the hard length between their bodies; her breath caught in her throat.

The vibe was hot between them. Both of them knew it; neither needing to say a word.

Finally, skipping the pretense that they didn’t know where this was leading, he asked her, “Would you like to come to my room?”

There was only a moment’s hesitation on her part. The moment she needed to decide whether he would be the exception to the rule she created about one-night stands. It only took that one moment to decide that he was worth the risk.

He wants what I want.

She responded, “I have an even better idea…let’s make it mine.”

© Aja Graves 2016

 

Have you preordered your copy yet?

You’ll meet Savanah Burnett and Joseph Farrington; sizzling in paradise.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1TKuLoc

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Hot Undercover Bosses featuring BREAKING HER RULES by Aja

 

I’m usually pretty quiet right before I share something with you all and this something I’ve been extremely quiet about. Maybe it’s because I’m in the company of such great authors who’ve teamed up to give you a hot, sexy, romantic box set for just 99 cents. Yes,that’s all. So pre-order it so that you can read stories by industry greats along with a sexy tale about Savanah Burnett and Joseph Farrington who both get more than either of them know what to do with, while seeking fun on a beautiful balmy island. And yes, that is Joseph, Noah’s brother, from I Am Yours. A snippet will come soon!

In the meantime find the preorder link below.

Hot Undercover Bosses for Pre-order

-Aja

 

A Good Morning

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My favorite time of day is morning. Early morning before he awakens. I like to look at the planes of his face, the sharpness of his cheekbones and strength in his jaw as he rests. The curve of his lips that I love to kiss. I love to listen to him breath, knowing life still moves in and out of his body; giving me another day to be in love with him. I love the silence that surrounds us in those moments, knowing that it signals a clean slate and no matter what yesterday was like, today will hold new lines added to our story.

I love to watch wakefulness take over and the stretch of his big body that is followed by a yawn before deep brown eyes open to settle upon my face. I love watching him come back to himself, leaving the world he spent the night in, and realize I’m here with him and the look of pleasure that passes his features with the revelation. I love being the thing or person he is happy to see as the dawn breaks. I love him reaching for me to show me his appreciation letting me know there is no other place for me but right here with him.

“Open up,” he whispers to me, the warm air caressing my ear as he hovers over me, his head in my neck.

I comply. Not just by parting my thighs but letting him into my heart.

The day has begun and I’m still in love.

-Aja

I Am a Writer … wait am I?

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I don’t know if you all remember my very first blog post. If not, here it is.

In that first post I made sure that I told the world that I AM a writer. I asserted it to you and to myself. Let me just tell you that even as I typed those words and shared them, I had a tinge of doubt. Okay, a lot of doubt. And there are still days after having been published as an author, that I still am not sure I Am a writer. Some days, there is not one good sentence I’ve been able to string together and don’t get me started on the days that turns into a week of nothingness. No writing, no story, no snatches of time being revealed to me. I mean, why didn’t they tell me that being a writer didn’t actually mean I’d be able to write all of the time? I mean, being a mother doesn’t ever go away, right?  My skills at motherhood only seem to grow with time and it’s to the point now, that I need no more convincing because my children are alive. They lived past day one, two, and after they talked back to me. They are still living. So yeah, I’m a mother but writing? Not the same thing.

So I only wrote this post as an addendum. I’m a writer, some days, somedays, not so much.

With that said, I am still working on a few projects for release. I so hope that the wait for not just you, but for me also will be worth it. This thing inside of me takes it’s good time to work through me, but it’s necessary for my survival. I have to get the words out. So wait… I have to be a writer, right?

-Aja

After The Sunrise (Nameless Couple in Paradise)

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Later that day, after an intense bout of lovemaking where he showed her the wonders of how else his talented tongue can be used to make her toes curl, they relaxed on their balcony— sitting in their chairs sipping ice cold water and sharing their dreams.

“You see that house over there,” he said with his long finger pointing out at a two story bungalow facing the beach.

“Yeah,” she responded. She was so satiated that she barely looked at the light blue house with the white storm shutters less than a block away, before her thoughts took her back to not too long ago. Her mind had been blown away by some of the things he explored with her for those hours after they watched the sunrise. He had kept his promise of only allowing her breaks to snack and nap when he napped and so far, napping had been out of the question.

What had started as a quiet intimate moment shared between lovers turned into stolen hot kisses and rubs against his hard length that by the time they made it back to their suite, she was panting and he was ordering her to quickly undress and get into their walk-in shower with six pulsing shower heads. As steamy hot water pelted down their brown skin, her hands were splayed against the marble tiles and his hands held her hips in a firm grip keeping her from melting and falling to the floor of the stall. His well-timed thrusts sent her keening and arching back against him, allowing the water to wash down her face; into her open mouth and against her swinging breasts. As he grabbed one tender globe, she reached back to grab his firm cheek to feel him tense and release on each pump; exhilarated by the slapping sounds of the splashing water. The shower didn’t take long because as soon as she tightened around him crying out his name, he led them out into the bedroom where they dried off and he placed his mouth in delicate places no other man but him had ventured before.

“Are you listening to me, Beautiful?” She looked over at him and smiled, giving away how she hadn’t been listening at all. Just remembering the almost sinful pleasure of what they had done made her shudder.

“I am now. What were you telling me?”

“I wanted to show you the house I’m going to buy you,” he said simply. His words made her give the house her full attention. It was large enough for them both and for their needs. It was in a place she could only dream of living full time. But she would not point out that a home at this location would cost more than both of their annual salaries a year. No; she wouldn’t do that because that’s what dreams were for and she knew that if anyone could find a way to make their dreams come true, it was this man. Besides, she had already proclaimed that this would be their vacation spot every year when they could get away.

“It’s lovely; whimsical almost. I like the palms lining the property.”

“Me too.”

“Shade,” they said at the same time making them both smile.

Still smiling he said, “Yeah and a breeze.” That made her remember earlier; him blowing his cool breath against the wet stinging pebbles at the tips of her breasts.

Crossing her legs tightly, she asked, “When do we move?”

That made him sigh and sit back. It was almost funny to watch the transition from his previously excited and erect state give way to reality and resignation.

Or so she thought.

“If all goes well, after the next sunrise . . .”

© Aja

The Embrace (Nameless Couple in Paradise)

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“Do you like it, B?” The anticipation of his response could be heard in her eager lilting voice and he was happy it pleased her to please him as much as he was happy to please her. This is who they were. Givers of love to each other.
“It’s perfect,” he responded and then gave her that delicious nipple hardening smile before he turned back to look out at the expanse of the deep blue ocean in front of them. As they stood out on the 6th floor balcony of their oceanfront room, their bodies side by side, he admired each detail of God’s love for them to partake in and he couldn’t wait to take her out there come morning to catch the speck of golden light before it exploded and lit the brilliant sky. And to listen to the sounds of the water running over fine sand and earth colored seashells—the smell of seawater filling his lungs on each breath.
Pulling her to his front and wrapping his arms around her soft waist he said, “And we’re perfect too.” She sighed dreamily and nuzzled inside of the cocoon of his safe and sure embrace; realizing she never wanted this moment to end. Never.
“So what do we do now?” She asked him looking up into his deep brown eyes.
“We love,” he replied simply.
Giggling she turned to him completely and poked him in his hard chest. “Now what does that mean?”
“You know what it means. You knew what it meant when you reserved this suite with a Jacuzzi tub in the middle of paradise island. You knew it meant I would have you in that bed every single day all day long only allowing you to break for a snack and a shower. And to catch the sunrise.” it would be her first sunrise at the ocean.
“Well I’m glad I at least get to shower. Can I get a nap? Can I also soak in the tub?”
“You’ll sleep when I sleep and the tub will be used for more interesting things,” he smirked before drawing her in closer to him. She wanted every bit of what he wanted and the tease in her wide brown eyes told him so.
“But if you want to do what all the other ordinary people are doing and spend our getaway touring, we can do that too. It’s up to you, darling.”
She didn’t buy it; not him being happy with touring for one moment but then thought maybe she should see. As much as she loved how much he loved making love to her and truly did want to be wrapped around him all week, she didn’t want him to miss out on what this place had to offer.
“I did see some interesting tours we could take in the brochure when we checked in.”
“Then arrange it,” was all he said as he went back into the room. Turning back to the calming water, she contemplated his response and didn’t want to dismiss it even if she had been ready to ride him slow and hard since she saw that huge king sized bed. He was just trying to give her what she wanted and here she was trying to give him what he wanted. Smiling, she headed back into the room and found him seated on that luxurious bed, reclined partially. His dark eyes gave away his hunger and his thick hard shaft gave away his desire.
“I thought you wanted to tour,” she said just above a whisper while pulling off her peach sundress and slipping out of her flip flops.
“Baby, everything I want to see is right here with you.”
She climbed atop of the bed and straddled his waist, her wet and ready body welcoming him.
As she rolled to the rhythm he led her in she whispered, “You’re right. This IS the best thing going on here.”

©Aja

It’s Only Love by Roy Glenn- Part 2 of Chapter One.

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“Who is that?”
“That is Natasha Edwards. And that, cuz, is her man she just sat down next to,” Paul said, putting his arm around me.
“Whose guest is she?” I asked, staring at her.
“Mine,” Vanessa said. “Natasha and I used to work together.”
“What about him?”
“He’s cool,” Vanessa said, and Paul cut his eyes at her. That let me know that I would hear a different story from Paul. “The four of us have gone out a few times.”
The deejay played Always and Forever by Heatwave.
“My wife loves this song. My wife . . . I like the way that sounds.” Paul grabbed his wife’s hand and started to lead Vanessa to the dance floor.
While they danced, I sat there listening to the music and couldn’t take my eyes off of her. The first thing I noticed about her was her eyes. They were exotic; wide and tilted at the corners of her small brown face. Her long, thick lashes framed them perfectly. Then my gaze moved to her berry tinted lips that looked so soft, and ready to be kissed. And we’re not even gonna talk about that body in that black and red dress that draped every curve the way I wanted my hands to. To say she was perfectly formed would have been an understatement, having high, ripe breasts, and a lush-rounded ass. Perfect. Now, if only her personality matched.
I had to meet her.
“She just may be the one.” I laughed out loud. Unlike Desiree; who was definitely not the one.
After Paul and Vanessa left the dance floor, she went to talk to some people while Paul headed back toward the bridal table.
“What’s really up with them?” I asked when he sat down.
“Who?”
“Natasha and whatever his name is.”
“Him and her are cool. But I get the impression that she doesn’t like the way he treats her.”
“How does he treat her?”
“Like he doesn’t respect her.”
I looked at him. He looked weak. “She looks like she is definitely more woman than he can handle.”
“But he’s paid.”
“What’s his name?”
“Lloyd Parker.”
“Sounds weak.”
“He is weak, Victor,” Paul said, like he was stating the obvious. “But like I said, he’s paid.”
“You think that’s what she’s all about?”
“No, she really is cool people; and she makes good money, too. But he sets it out for her. She says most men are intimidated by her ’cause she’s so fine.”
“That what she said?” I asked, glancing back over my shoulder to look at her.
“She referred to herself as attractive.”
“She is that.” I said, still looking back in her direction. Natasha was still watching me. “She got a good team, Paul, but she needs a new coach. Introduce me to her, Paul.” I started walking toward the table.
“Slow down, man Don’t be so obvious.”
Paul was able to slow me down long enough to introduce me to his boss Ralph, and his wife, Adrianna. In addition to working at Leimert Beckford Marketing, Ralph had a few other business interests he was pursuing. We talked awhile about me doing some freelance work for him. Ralph said it would be a couple of months before they would be ready to move. We exchanged cards, and Ralph asked me to give him a call in September. I looked at Natasha; she was still watching me. I quickly agreed, accepted his card, and promised to call in September.
Once I got finished talking with Ralph, Paul was nowhere in sight; so I begged Vanessa to walk me over to her beautiful friend. Since she had promised a group of her coworkers that Paul had plenty of single cousins for them to dance with, she willingly agreed.
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You really gotta dance with them.”
I looked at the single ladies at the table and then at Natasha. My heart beat just that much harder. “Deal,” I agreed—because at this point, I was desperate for an excuse to get close to her— and we headed for the table.
Not wanting to disrespect Lloyd when we got to the table, Vanessa introduced me to everybody at the table. With eyes focused on Natasha, I politely spoke to everyone, taking my eyes off her only briefly. Finally, Vanessa got to her.
“Natasha, Lloyd, this is Paul’s cousin, Victor. Victor, this is Lloyd Parker.”
I shook Lloyd’s hand. His handshake was as weak as I thought it would be.
“Nice to meet you, Lloyd,” I said with my eyes still focused on Natasha.
Once Vanessa had introduced us, Lloyd went back to talking to the man sitting next to him, so he couldn’t see the way I was looking at his woman. And more importantly, the way his woman was looking at me.
“Victor, this is Natasha Edwards.”
I reached for Natasha’s hand; it felt soft and warm. I bowed at the waist and kissed it. Our eyes locked and it was like the world stopped. For a second or two, it seemed that she and I were all that mattered in the world.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Natasha.”
Her facial expression told me nothing. She squeezed my hand. Although her expression didn’t change, her light squeeze to my hand confirmed what her eyes had already told me. She let go of my hand and I felt like all the energy had just left my body. I knew then that, despite the man sitting next to her and whatever was going on with them, this woman belonged with me. I knew then that I would do whatever I had to do to make this a reality.
I stood up straight and looked around to the other ladies at the table. “Perhaps each of you will do me the honor of dancing with me later.” And then I returned my gaze to Natasha.
“Why wait until later,” Robin, one of the women at the table asked and got up. “This is my jam!”
I smiled and took her hand. “Well then, let’s dance,” I said, but I didn’t stop looking at Natasha. I danced a couple of songs with Robin. She was kind of cute and she made a play, which I politely ignored, before I escorted her back to the table. When I got there, Lloyd was still deep into his conversation, and still ignoring Natasha. From where I was standing, it looked like she was only half into the conversation she was having with the woman sitting next to her.
I looked at her and gestured toward the floor. She smiled like she was considering accepting my offer to dance; then Natasha cut her beautiful eyes at Lloyd and she shook her head no. As if she was saying “I would but, the only reason I’m not, is out of respect for the man I’m with.”
I respected that.
I did.
It made me want her more.
“I’m ready for my dance now, Victor,” another of the women at the table said.
I leaned close to her. “I’m ready, too,” I said and hit the floor, because I really do love to dance.
But when I got back to the table Natasha was gone.
My heart began pumping hard in my chest.
After quickly promising to come back to dance with the rest of the ladies, I excused myself and went looking for her. I didn’t know what I would say or do, but I was driven to find her. Once I came to the conclusion that she had left for the night, I set out in search of Vanessa. She knew Natasha, they were friends. She could tell me everything I wanted to know about her. I didn’t find her either; and it left me feeling empty and I couldn’t understand why. I’ve been interested in plenty of women before, and it never had me feeling like this.
It was just then that my cousin, Sydney, walked up to me shaking her head. It was like she could see what I was feeling on my face and she was laughing at me.
“What?”
“You need to go get your cousins,” Sydney said.
“Who?” I answered; happy that she was clueless about my anxiety.
“Desana and Dior.” They were my Aunt Anita and Uncle B’s twin girls. And those two are a trip!
“What they doing now?” I asked, because it was always something with those two.
She grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor where a crowd had formed a circle. Sydney and I pushed our way to the front.
Sydney pointed. “See.”
I looked and saw Desana and Dior, our two baby cousins, twerking with some man.
“I mean, look at them! Squatting and thrusting their hips like that.”
Granted, Sydney is a bit of a prude, but I have to say that those two seventeen-year-olds were doing the most sexually provocative twerking I had ever seen.
“Where’s Uncle B and Aunt Anita?” I asked.
“Come on, Victor. You know Aunt Anita was feeling no pain before the wedding; so you know she was drunk and Uncle B got her up outta here.”
Sydney and I got the twins off the floor to a round of boos from the crowd that had formed around them. But once that minor crisis was averted, my mind returned to Natasha. Even though she was gone and I had no way of contacting her, I knew in my heart that I’d see her again. And you know what? I knew it wouldn’t be long before somehow, something would bring us together.

© Roy Glenn 2015

Find Chapter Two in next week’s edition on November 25th.

For Sale at major e-tailers including here on Amazon.

The Male Voice in Romance . . . It’s Only Love by Roy Glenn Teaser #1

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Chapter One
My name is Victor It was Saturday afternoon and my brother, Stevie and I were in the room that we used to share when we were kids. We were there getting ready to go to our cousin Paul’s wedding. After five, sometimes volatile years together, he was marrying Vanessa. I was his best man and Stevie, as well as two of our cousins were groomsmen. I was dressed and ready, relaxing on my old bed while he was in the mirror putting on his bow tie.
“Look at my two men,” my sister Rhonda said when she walked in the room.
It was the first time that the three of us have been together in—wow—almost three years. I got up from the bed before she told me to.
“You both look so handsome,” she said smiling and looking at the both of us in our charcoal grey suits.
“And you look beautiful,” I said as she walked up to Stevie.
“I can do that, Rhonda,” Stevie said as she adjusted his bow tie.
“I know,” she said, but she didn’t stop until the tie was just right.
Rhonda couldn’t help herself; she’s been taking care of my brother and me since I can remember.
“I’m just so happy to see you two; for all of us to be together. Even if it’s just for the day,” she said and cut her eyes at Stevie. “Since one of us has to leave tomorrow. But it’s so good to see you two.” Rhonda held out her arms and we shared what we called our circle.
“All we got is each other,” she said softly the way she used to.
“That’s all we ever needed,” Stevie said.
I never knew my father and I was five years old when my mother met a man and she moved away to DC. After that, Rhonda pretty much raised us.
“I can’t believe you kids still do that,” our Uncle Don said coming in the door, interrupting our moment. We broke our circle. “You know I always wondered what you were saying to each other.”
“Some things you were meant to wonder about,” Rhonda said and kissed him on the cheek.
“We haven’t told you in all these years, no reason to believe that we’d tell you now,” I said as I followed Rhonda past him and out of the room.
Uncle Don shook his head. “You got something smart to say too?”
“No, sir. There’s nothing else to be said,” I heard Stevie say.
The three of us rode together to the church. On the way there, we talked a little about Uncle Don. Him and our Aunt Michelle have three children; Paul, who’s getting married today, and his sisters, Maggie and Angie.
“Uncle Don is a good father,” Stevie commented. “Not only to his kids, but to us too.
“I’m sure both of you will be great fathers one day,” Rhonda said.
“Not me. I don’t want any kids,” I laughed. “I’m not even interested in getting married.” Understanding that one wasn’t necessary to do the other.
“You gotta have a baby to be a father,” Stevie said. He is an FBI field agent or at least he was until he recently took a desk job. His wife, Sharon, said that him being in the field so much was putting a strain on their marriage, so he made the change.
“Now that you’ve given up working in the field I’m sure that you and Sharon will have a baby soon,” Rhonda said. “I need some nieces and nephews.”
“No, we won’t be having a baby.”
“Why you say that?” I asked.
Stevie took a deep breath. “I might as well tell you.”
“It’s about time,” Rhonda said. We both noticed that he’d been acting kinda funny since he got here this morning. “Tell us the truth. Save me the trouble of asking.”
“Sharon and I are divorced.”
“What?” I asked. “But you just gave up field work for her. I thought that was the point?”
“I did too,” Stevie said and looked out the window.
“I was right, wasn’t I,” Rhonda said and I wondered what she was talking about. She moved closer and put her arm around Stevie. “She was cheating on you the whole time.”
“Yeah.” He turned and faced her. “She was.”
“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Rhonda said.
“Me, too, Stevie. I’m sorry to hear that. Damn, that’s fucked up.”
“It’s all right.” He kissed Rhonda on the cheek. “All we really got is each other.”
“That’s all we ever needed,” I said and it reminded me once again that the only people that would never let any of us down were all in that limo.
And that was sad, but true.
The wedding went off, well, as well as a wedding can go. Vanessa made a beautiful bride in her simple white dress with elegant lace train and Paul looked pretty cool in tails. Paul and Vanessa decided they would make a few changes in the conventional church wedding ceremony.
Paul came down the aisle flanked on either side by Uncle Don and Aunt Michelle. And Vanessa did the same with her parents. They wanted to be—as they put it: presented—by both of their parents; which made perfect sense to me. Well, as much sense as a wedding can make.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not anti-marriage. I’m sure when the right two people get together it can work. My grandfather loved my grandmother until the day God called her home. So I know that it can work. I’ve just never seemed to find the right one for me. And believe me, I have tried— though unsuccessfully—to find the one, but each relationship ended with me still looking for what I am now starting to think doesn’t exist.
Not the perfect woman; just perfect for me. And me being perfect for her would be great too.
My grandfather told me once that loving a woman is hurt and disappointment. When he told me, I was too young to know what he was talking about. But it stuck with me. Maybe because it’s turned out to be true. Honestly, the only women I’ve ever known that didn’t disappoint me was my grandmother and Rhonda; the best sister in the world. She’s always been there for me. She was there to fight for me when I couldn’t fight for myself. And she was always there to hold me when I used to cry.
It’s okay, Victor. Don’t cry. She didn’t mean it.
Once the ceremony was over, we were all rushed into another room to take pictures. When the last picture was snapped, we headed for the reception that was being held at The River Club. Vanessa chose the venue because of the exquisite view of downtown and the St. Johns River.
We were sitting at the bridal table and I was congratulating Paul and his new wife Vanessa, when she asked me when I was going to find a woman and get married.
“When I find the right one,” I said and hoped that Paul, since he knows how I feel about getting married, would help me out and change the subject.
“You just need to find the right type of woman,” Paul said and kissed his wife.
“I don’t have a type.”
“Yes you do,” Vanessa insisted and picked up her champagne glass.
“Okay, what’s my type?”
“You’re type is that you don’t have a type. What you have, Victor is a style.” Vanessa paused. “And before you say it, there is a difference.”
“Okay, what’s my style?”
“You like personalities. Not any particular type of personality, they just have to have one. You like a—how should I say this—” Vanessa paused. “—you like a very feminine, very lady like woman. Like every other man in your family, you’re a gentleman, so you know how to treat a lady.”
“Anything wrong with that?” I asked.
“Worked for me,” Paul said and it required a fist bump.
“Not at all.” Vanessa leaned close and kissed Paul on the cheek. “And it is still working for you. But because you’re a gentleman, Victor, you like a woman who knows how to appreciate it.”
“So far, I can’t argue with you.”
“Because it’s pointless to try,” Paul said, and his new bride took a playful swing at him, but he was right. Vanessa is a force to be reckoned with when she wants to be.
“And you like your very feminine, very ladylike women to be attractive,” Vanessa said; and then she laughed. “But it’s not a disqualifier.”
“I’m glad you said that.” Paul drained his champagne glass. “’Cause you’ve had some very feminine, very ladylike—bats,” he said and laughed.
“They all had personality though, Paul,” she said quickly. Then she tried to stop laughing. “Seriously though, you’re a nice guy, Victor. You just never let anybody get close enough to you to find out.”
“And those are the ones he likes best,” Paul added.
“Who’s that?”
“The ones that don’t try to get to know him. They have—” He looked at Vanessa. “How should I say this?” Paul paused. “They seem to find other purposes for him.”
“Whatever,” I said, more to end the conversation. And that’s when I saw her.
I watched in wide-eyed wonder as she crossed the floor on the way to her table. The way she seemed to glide effortlessly across the floor when she walked. Poise, elegance, grace; she was absolutely phenomenal.

© Roy Glenn 2015

Find the continuation of Chapter One in next week’s edition on November 18th.

For Sale at major e-tailers including here on Amazon.

Introducing Soulmate by Deatri King-Bey

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The heart of the Precious Jewels Security Agency, Pearl Nicolas’s life has become one undercover assignment after the next. Happy, yet jealous, that her sisters are finding their soulmates, Pearl reluctantly accepts there is no soulmate out there for her… Or is there?

Tariq Suárez Anzar’s life changed when he became a single father of a teen. When a possible drug ring is suspected on his daughter’s prep school campus, the Precious Jewels are called in to find out exactly what is going on. But Tariq discovers so much more—Pearl. From the first moment they met, everything within him screamed, “She is your soulmate!”

Timing would be perfect for Tariq to go after his soulmate except one tiny thing—his daughter is Pearl’s only lead in the case. Patient as much as he is determined, he will not let this once in a lifetime chance slip by to have the family he wants.

Available in:
Kindle http://tinyurl.com/p55huf8
Nook: http://tinyurl.com/qfbtq2s
Print: Coming soon

SAMPLE:
Amber had never been more right in her life! Pearl continued staring at the headshot of Tariq Suárez Aznar in the Newton Academy’s staff gallery on the school’s website via her iPad. Teachers were not supposed to look like this. Had Professor Suárez been her math instructor, she wouldn’t have learned a thing from dreaming about him all day.

Sincere hazel eyes to gaze into, strong facial features to admire, lips plump enough for kissing, short wavy hair to run her fingers over—if his body were half as nice, she’d never solve the case from drooling over the man.

Resisting the urge to conduct a background check on him, she turned off her tablet and put it away. He’d hired them and deserved his privacy. This was business. Plus a man like him had to be married. Then again, what would she do with a boring teacher anyway? Good looks be damned, she needed a man who could keep up with her. One whose lifestyle matched hers enough that they wanted to share their lives together. She wanted someone who didn’t exist—her soulmate.

Disheartened, she walked from the bench in the main office over to the bulletin board. Pep rally, fundraiser, Halloween party, volleyball game schedule, football game schedule, math club meetings, science club meeting… nothing out of the ordinary.

“Excuse me, Ms. Nicholas?”

That soft, sexy voice had to belong to the new star of her fantasies. Much calmer than she felt, she turned and smiled politely. “Yes. Oh, Mr. Suárez.” Following Spanish tradition, she said his middle name, which was his father’s family name.

Appreciation burned in his bright eyes as he took her in from head to toe. She knew when a man was attracted to her, and Mr. Suárez definitely was.

Deatri King-Bey
http://www.DeatriKingBey.com

Inspire

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“Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.” ― Suzanne Weyn

Those of you that have been following me or know me may know I’m an introvert. I sometimes say I’m shy but reality is, I can be outgoing if needed; it’s just not what I want to be. I like my time to myself and I don’t usually make small talk or tell things about myself that are unnecessary for the purposes of filling in space with groups of people.

Recently, folks at my day job found out that I’m a writer and it’s been a conversation starter since then. Folks I don’t even want to have small talk with want to talk about what I write, and all my writing habits and I have even had the embarrassment of an old director of mine opening my book up here at work and randomly selecting a page to read. It had the words nipples and *uck on it. I assured her that the second word was only for keeping in character and she wouldn’t find it anywhere else in the book but I was mortified because the first word would most certainly be found all over the place even if I’m using euphemisms in place of it.

What I do is fascinating to them. Not as much to me because I’m living my dream now; not dreaming about it. So no, not as fascinating until I’m speaking with someone that has that same spark in their eye I’m sure I had once. I recognize it when I see it and then I start my sales pitch. The one that encourages them to live out their dream. To pick up their pen or tap those keys. And most of the time I get a shy smile, not unlike the one I used to have and I get the feeling they won’t be having small talk with me ever again. But every little once in a while, there’s one that is so inspired by my success and I use that word loosely (because success in this world of mine is writing every day or finishing a chapter, or finishing a book. It has nothing to do with my sales reports or popularity amongst fans and readers even though that’s nice; trust me). But they are inspired and they take that step. They sit down and write, all because I spoke up and came out of my shell for a moment and let them see that inner light in me that comes from many things but most certainly comes from me living my dream and being who I am. A writer.

I received a text today from a person who retired from my company recently. I provided services to her and her team of employees and she was one of my favorite managers to work with. I mean, I really liked her so when it was her last day, I gave her a hug and she handed me two Solid Gold Soul vinyl records. Yeah, she has a sense of humor. . . . though I’m wondering how I can get a record player from my mom? Anyway. . . I got a text from her saying, “Check the paper. The editor published my letter.” I read it and wow. She’s a writer too.

Inspire folks . . . Inspire.

Stepping Away From the Ledge

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I’m generally a cautious person; carefully measuring my steps to make sure I don’t stumble and fall but if you have been paying any attention to my blog posts over the last couple of years, you would know that when it comes to writing, I’m a different animal. Much more impulsive, definitely not confined by rules and standards. I teeter on what’s appropriate and what is edgy. This is in my thinking, mind you. My behaviors are pretty much the same. Ah shoot, who am I fooling, certainly not you. The truth is, I’m an enigma. I have a hard enough time figuring myself out; so you can forget about it.

Anyway . . . I sometimes bite off more than I can chew. I become a bad-ass. At least that’s how it seems.

I’m working on a new novel. In a way, it’s a follow up to I Am Yours that featured Amara Harper and Noah Farrington, two former lovers destined to love each other through all space and time. They had an interesting set of support characters that readers inquired about and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I had a story for any of them. I knew I wanted to see some of them again. And I knew there were a couple that were much more damaged than I had originally thought when I started to write the book.

Cami, Amara’s best friend and surrogate sister, is one of those characters. In truth, Cami represents every woman as much as Amara did. Their emotional paths are very different but both are responsible, hard-working women. But their hearts are different. As I developed Amara, Cami’s story kept screaming at me because in it, I could see myself had I made different choices. If I let my impulsive self, rule my actions throughout my younger youth. If I gave way to caution. If you read I Am Yours, you can see how these two women, Amara and Cami, are like opposites, but in fact there is a part of them that is exactly the same. Both are worn out by heartache. One chooses to hide, the other chooses to make self-sabotaging decisions. And of course, I would see that as an opportunity to help guide her along. So I bit in. A big HUNK too. Bad ass.

Then add to that, Logan. Logan’s story didn’t unfold much in I Am Yours but you get the hint of there being something behind his humor and something in those hours he puts into being an emergency medical technician. He has a story that is almost as deep as it is painful. It took some time to get to know it but once I did, I realized Cami was for him and that it would not be easy leading them into their collective story, nor would it be easy to heal them individually. So I took another bite without chewing and swallowing the first one.

I’m saying all of this to say, at some point, I realized how big of a bite I took and I panicked. How do I write myself out of this? Why do I choose to write stories that aren’t easy to tell? Amara was not easy to love. She wasn’t easy to write or understand either. She was frustrating but she was her. I couldn’t change that about her. All I could do was write and then hope for the best. She was criticized for being so difficult (which I understood) because she was a woman. How many men have taken a woman back and forth through the paces and in the end, they live happily ever after and no one questions it because he’s a man? We are harder on our female leads I think and so I know Cami will be taken through the fire for her decisions. The ones we know already and the ones we’ll learn about in time.

But in the end, I was talked away from the ledge. I was encouraged to continue to write the stories as they come to me because believe it or not, the women we hate, are sometimes who we are. They make the decisions we sometimes wish we hadn’t. They are sometimes as difficult and hard to understand as we are. And our story is still meant to be told. Not just the fairytale version we wish had been our life.

Love will be what’s needed for both Cami and Logan. I’m going to have to love them through their story and hopefully my reader will learn to love them despite their past and their present demons.

Love’s Required will be released sometime this fall or as soon as I can finish chewing and get to really writing.

Have you ever bit off more than you can chew? How did you write your way out of it?

-Aja

Sneak Peek of Trinidad and April’s AMELIE by Angelia Vernon Menchan

Angelia

 

Excerpt:

He was no longer startled by her resemblance to April. Having a baby and getting sober had added pounds to her and these days her hair was shorter and curly unlike her sister’s long waves. Strolling in, she took a seat and Smith sighed. “Hello Amelie. How are you Amelie? I’ll get you a check Amelie.” Since the courts had given Jamie back to his mom, Smith gave her money to help raise him, normally he mailed it but had been too busy the past week. She was working for barely above minimum wage and he loved Jamie as his own. He knew April wouldn’t approve but he had been unable to deny Amelie’s request or Jamie’s needs. “Thank you!” She said smugly, crossing her legs. Smith quickly took out his personal checkbook, writing Amelie a check. He slid it across the table and she quickly picked it up, placing it in her oversized bag. “Is that all Amelie and how is Jamie?” “He’s fine. Are you going by the daycare to see him?” “I plan to. But today I’m going home to my wife.” Her brow arched at his words. “Will she even know you’re there? Last I heard from daddy she was looking zombie-like and crying.” Rage filled him but he sucked it down. Amelie might be clean and sober but she was not a good person. “Anyway, thanks for the stipend.” She muttered. Standing, she adjusted her snug dress, staring at her brother in law. He refused to make eye contact with her. She made her way from the office and he could hear her laughter trail behind her. Shaking his head, he put away his checkbook and prepared to go home to his wife.

Available on Kindle.

I Am Yours is available now!

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Amara Harper and Noah Farrington have a history. A passionate, emotion-filled, pleasurable history. Despite how good it felt to be in his arms, being with Noah terrified Amara and because she is good for running from the things she fears, she runs from him, leaving him brokenhearted and with a newfound determination to become the man he knew he could be if she’d only given him the chance.

Two years later, and in line for a promotion, Amara uses a project she’s put in charge of as a means to get in contact with the man who stole her heart. She’s afraid of what might happen but moves forward anyway and despite his resolve to deny her when she comes calling, he gives in and agrees to help her with it.

Naturally when two people meant for each other come together even for work, passion ignites, and Amara is sent on a journey that forces her to beg these questions: What if? What if I allowed his passion to consume me and not run from it?

There are obstacles though; like she is practically engaged to Keith, the safe choice for Amara, and again, she doesn’t truly trust love. Can Amara overcome her fears and give into what makes her feel whole? Can she finally begin to trust the love that Noah has always had for her?
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Sample Sunday: Noah from I Am Yours

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I looked at my brother while he drove. Joseph was waist deep in an anti-woman rant. “I don’t understand women and they don’t understand me.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve never really been in love with a woman.”
“You’re right. And that decision alone has saved me hours of sitting around looking and feeling like you do right now.”
“Not gonna argue with your logic,” I said, but still felt the urge to defend love; the love I have with her.
“Because you can’t. You were at college, but I had a front row seat to watch all the ridiculous changes Alexis took Abe through.”
Abe is our brother Abraham and Alexis is his wife, but while they were dating, she was something else. “Here again, not gonna argue with you, baby boy.”
“’Cause here again, you can’t,” Joseph said and pointed at me.
“You just keep your eyes on the road.”
“I don’t understand why a woman in love does the things she does. Why so many equate love with orgasms. Why they call you on the telephone and say, ‘I didn’t want anything’. Then why did you call!” he shouted.
“You’re asking the wrong man today.” But I had a feeling I did know. Because when you are in love, everything is about love. The call, the orgasms, the smiles; it’s all about the one you’re with and you wanting more of it and them. Like I wanted Amara.
“And maybe you can tell me why hearing those three words mean so much.”
Even though I knew this too, I asked, “What three words?”
“I love you.”
“Like I said, you’re asking the wrong man today.” They mean so much because she needs her senses to experience it. You have to say it so she can hear it; show her so she can feel it in her heart. All of it, I was willing to give her.
“Three words that never were true,” he continued. “Words are meaningless. Anyone can invoke the words without meaning them,” he said and I was glad when he parked his new car in the driveway of the house we grew up in because when I said those words to Amara, they were as true as anything I’d ever said. I was true to her.

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Sample Sunday: Amara from I Am Yours

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Sample Sunday: Amara from I Am Yours:

Two days had passed since I acted like a cat in heat in my office and Noah was only too happy to take me out of my misery. We’d moved from my desk to the wall, then to the floor, barely stopping to breathe in between sessions. Sex between us had always been a marathon where we teetered between sprinting and going long distance. Whatever way we came together it was always in sync. We instinctually knew what to do to please each other. He knew how to bite my neck at just the right place right as I was getting ready to climax. I knew to pull his ass into me just as he was close to murmuring or hollering my name.

We know each other and I know that I’m falling and falling fast.

When we finally stopped to rest, me straddling him on his lap, our breathing slowing, he rubbed my back and I snuggled and sighed into his neck breathing in the musky scent of him. That moment was what it was all about. That moment when you know you are with the one that brings you peace. When you feel most like yourself and not like an imposter. When you feel love and know you are loved.

I drove out to Cami’s apartment in Highland Park that Saturday, to join her for a jewelry party she was hosting. Cami had an entrepreneurial spirit that showed itself in the form of her selling jewelry, candles, and skin care products. Me being the wonderful friend that I am, I supported each venture stopping short of signing up to sell the products too. I just don’t have the time to invest in all the parties and stuff. Or maybe it’s because of all the social contact involved in the hours I’d rather be alone. Either way, I enjoyed these things with her handling it and me chewing on tasty hors d’oeuvres while selecting items I had no real use for but ended up being displayed in my house. Cami is my girl.

I entered her apartment with my key, the smell of Mexican cooking hit me, smiling as I listened to her singing off key to Beyoncé’s Crazy In Love. The big bright pink fiesta sign that said, “Hola” let me know what her theme was for the evening. I moved toward her small galley style kitchen and surprised her when I joined in on her singing “Got me lookin so crazy right now. Your love’s got me lookin so crazy right now!”

“Girl you scared the mess out of me!” She was holding onto her chest and I might have been worried if she wasn’t grinning. She gave me a quick hug before going back to her grilled chicken pieces.

“Need help with anything?” I asked hoping she had it covered while moving to sit down before I fell down. Having hot sex for the first time in a long time tended to wear you out. I was worn o-u-t. You hear me? Well. Fantastically worn. The way his hands held my hips, pulling me into him on each deep thrust. I had to do a mental head shake just to clear my head of the image of our skin sliding against each other as we worked our way to another mind-blowing orgasm.

Pretty soon my hands would start to tremble if I didn’t stop thinking about him. But his constant texts with my responses back to him were a reminder of what we’d done and that we wanted to do it again, preferably today. But I was avoiding the look he’d given me before he walked me to my car the other night. It was the look that said he wouldn’t accept just this. There had to be more.

“What did you do, girl?” I looked over at Cami who was observing me intently.

“What are you talking about?” Dang. She didn’t miss a thing!

“Well for one, I told you I was cool that I just needed you to help me greet folks when they start rolling in at five. And the other thing is you have this “he fucked the shit out of me” look that I haven’t seen since. . . wait, since you were with Noah.”

I couldn’t hide my grin; unable to contain it despite the consequence of her asking me more questions I really didn’t want to answer.

“Did you hook up?” When I nodded she sat down next to me at her bistro table. “I mean did you screw him?”

“Yes! And why must you be so, so, crude about it. We had sex.”

“Amara, you and Keith have sex. You and Noah, screw. Y’all go hard, heavy. Get it in. He blows your back out.”

I busted out laughing. “You are a mess. Okay, yes. We screwed and it was good.”

“I can tell. You are glowing,” She smiled.

Her words were sincere. Not one bit of sarcasm which made me admit, “I’m afraid though.”

“I knew you would be when this happened,” she said and when I gave her a look she said, “Come on; the whole world knew you’d make it back together. You just needed to stop fighting it, Sis. So tell me, where did you do it? Some broom closet somewhere?”

“No,” I laughed. In my office. On the desk. Against the wall. Sideways, upside down. You name it, we did it. But I kept that to myself. Some stuff you just didn’t share—not even with your closest girlfriend.

“So what comes next?” I shrugged, because admittedly, I really had no idea. When I said I’d worry about picking up the pieces afterwards, I never anticipated there’d be no pieces. I didn’t feel pulled apart really. Only fantastically whole, like he was what I needed in order to feel alive, and again, I was terrified and giddy at the same time.

I watched her get up to take the chicken off the fire and move it to the side and start chopping veggies for the fajitas.

“I have to give that more thought, Cami. This man, has me all wrapped up and we’ve just started again. That’s what terrifies me about him. That he can do that to me. It’s like he pulls the strings. But where will he try to pull me, if I let him?”

She sighed while now sautéing the peppers and onions. “That’s called love, Amara. When you love, you have to trust. There is no other way to do it. See where it takes you. If it falls apart, you will have had one of the greatest times in your life. If it lasts forever, you’ll never have to know what it feels like for it to end. But until you take a chance, you’ll never know.”

She kept her back to me but her posture was so tense like she was holding back something and I realized it had been a while since I asked what was going on with her. The project, Noah, my mom. My father. All of it had kept me in my own feelings.

“I hear you.” Wanting to change the topic and to become a better friend I asked, “So what’s been going on with you?”

“Nothin’,” she said while her back was still to me.

“Which tells me everything. You always have a million and one things going on.” And she did. She was a kindergarten teacher, she volunteered at the senior citizen’s home in Glendale. She was an active member of her sorority, running fundraising events every month. And she had all these side hustles.

She turned to me then and leveled with me finally. “Okay. I’m seeing someone but before you ask me a lot of questions, it’s new and I’m not sure about him yet.”

“So how can you tell me to trust and go full steam ahead?”

“Because you and Noah are like two halves of a whole—that’s why. This guy is new and I need to see if he’ll do the things he says he’ll do. Been down that road before.”

“I know.” And we both remained silent reflecting on the man that left her pregnant with a black eye and broken heart. Timothy was the reason I was putting the brakes on Keith and I. When that loser found out she was pregnant, he got violent and she ended up staying with me for a few months before finding a place on her own. While she was with me, she’d lost the baby.

She always claimed it was a blessing in disguise and I guess I could understand that. Not wanting to be tied to a person with such ugliness inside of them. But still to lose both things you wanted, had to be hard. And hard seems like too simple a word.

“Well, whoever he is, he needs to treat you right. And when you’re ready to tell me more, I’m here to hear about him.”

She gave me a small smile but it never reached her eyes. She seemed a little sad but intent on not talking about it which I understood all too well. When you weren’t ready to talk, no one could pry it out of you. They needed to just let you be, and that’s what I had to do for her. I let it go and finished helping her set up even with my awesomely sore limbs.

That night after I left her place, having ordered three pairs of dangling silver earrings and a sterling silver bangle bracelet, I thought about what Cami had said. Love and trust must come hand in hand. Otherwise it doesn’t work. And Noah wanted my trust along with my love. He already had one from me. Could I risk it all and give him the other?

I got in the house and started a bath. While I waited for the tub to fill with Vanilla scented bubble bath and some Epson salt, I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Noah. “I’m ready. At least I’d like to try.”

Before I could even put my toe in the water he replied with, “I’m happy to hear it. Can we start right now?”

“I’d love to,” I responded while hoping he’d at least allow me to soak so I could be ready for more of his sweet punishment.

To Be or Not to Be—That should be the question . . .

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Inspired by a recent intellectual exchange . . .

We spend a great deal of our years figuring out who we are and what we want to do with our lives. That’s most of us. Some of us, don’t spend any time contemplating this and do whatever, whenever, without any real direction. Depending on how you go about it, you either waste a fair amount of time thinking about life when you could be living that life, ultimately ending up on the path you were always destined to be on. There really is no right or wrong way. And I’ve been a hybrid—going between thinking and living, thinking and living. The living is a lot more “fun”, for sure. But I gotta say, some things are not for play. They are not about seeing how you do at it for sport; they are about realizing yourself and planting that spectacular gift in rich soil. Some things you either are or you aren’t.

We all have a special gift given to us from our Creator. Matter of fact, we usually are gifted with such an abundance of His gifts, that we spend our lifetime discovering them all. Being a writer is one of my gifts. It may have taken many years for me to come to grips with this gift of mine but the signs were always there. I dabbled with it, and I talked about that in my very first post on this blog right here. But I always knew even in my denial, but probably before I knew—no I’m sure of it actually, someone else knew. My mother knew I was given this gift. Then my teachers saw it. Then my friends who received long-winded notes when the question was simple, knew. Then, my first boyfriend knew it when I responded to his letters with, well, that’s my secret.

When you reach that place where you’ve either thought about it too much or when you’ve played around so much, and you still haven’t figured out whether to be or not to be, pay attention to the clues. Has it always been inside of you? Have others noticed it too? How does it make you feel when you use this God-given gift of yours? Chances are each response will tell you whether you should be . . . whatever it is.

For me, the answer was a resounding yes. Because nothing else allows me such freedom, than sharing my soul with words. I mean, absolutely nothing else. I can’t talk about my characters enough. I can’t dream about them enough. I HAVE to write about them. There is no other way. And I don’t only have my story to tell. Matter of fact, my life isn’t interesting enough, to sell it.

Someone said to me once, that everyone has at least one book in them and I can understand that. I think this is why you have to ask yourself, to be or not to be? Writing fiction is not about, I had this experience and I want the world to hear about it, so I’m going to write a book and maybe fictionalized it a bit, but it’s really about me. At least I don’t think being a fiction writer is about that. No. I think if you do that, you will never continue because of the long nights and discipline it requires. You’ll always talk about writing something but never actually write. Writing won’t be your gift as much as needing to inspire someone with your story. And inspiring may be your gift. It’s a great gift needed in this world.

If I told my story and I have, in a short story I wrote that only one person read, I’d be done. Finished. No more writing for me. I would never have published any work and wouldn’t be on the brink of publishing another. Because this isn’t about me when it all boils down to it. There are way too many stories to tell and I wish I was given enough time to get them all out. That’s how excited I am about this realized gift of mine.

This is not for play, although I feel absolutely liberated in doing it. Writing for me, is me.

So ask yourself, to be or not to be? And then be it.

Are you following the clues? What’s your gift?

-Aja

Use Your Imagination

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The man who has no imagination has no wings. -Muhammad Ali

random . . .

I’ve been writing practically my whole life and the majority of my writing have been stories of fiction with the occasional bouts of poetry. Since I became an adult, sex decided to make an appearance in pretty much all of what I write even if it’s not the topic and even if it’s not graphic. Most people like the sex that I write; they enjoy it enough that they want me to write more of it but I get a few who make remarks that lead me to do what I’m doing now. Blog.

I’ve been asked if I was a naughty girl (and I think they are putting that nicely) because it so happens that a few of my characters choose to do naughty things with folks. It doesn’t matter that up until this point in my writing journey, they are in love, probably going to marry the other person in said story- the fact remains, they are getting busy and I am to blame for it. Even as delicious as it is. But I digress. How is it that what I choose to write or what comes to me in this creative brain of mine is a reflection of who I am? I’ve been asked are you still married? What does he think of my words and the implication is that I can’t be the wholesome buttercup people believed me to be before they read my stories because my stories shed light on the sexuality of women and men that is sometimes not so wholesome.

When I was in the fourth grade I was a Stephen King and Dean Koontz fan. Yeah, I have always been a heavy, voracious reader. I read them until I became an adult and added others into the mix; more diverse genres and writers. But I never wondered if King or Koontz were crazy or whether they were murderers. I thought maybe weird and brilliant and excellent storytellers, something I aspired to be, but psycho? No. Why; because it’s called an imagination. Remember that? Remember having to come up with an idea for some school project and the teacher instructed you to use your imagination?

My mother told me to use my imagination plenty and often. Being an only child pretty much guaranteed I’d need to unless I wanted to really be crazy or make her crazy so I played and pretended and when I could form paragraphs, that imagination was displayed in my words.

Folks, I think there is a deeper issue here that I would want a prolific writer like Nia Forrester to tackle and that is, sexism. Because I’m a woman who writes sex, my moral compass is being put to judgment and I’m sure many female romance or erotica writers can relate because love in the physical expression of sex is a part of what we do. We show our characters’ feelings in the way they stroke each other’s skin, the way they devour each other’s mouths, the way they grope, fondle and eventually penetrate and receive. It’s what we do but it’s not the story . . . all of the time . . . nor is it who we are. Now that’s not to say that my imagination doesn’t come from some experiences or some fantasies that have been fueled. I’d be lying if I said that. My imagination comes from my brain which has lots of memories stored in it and for me, since I’m an emotional writer, also from my heart which has felt a lot. But that’s not all of me. It’s an extension of me and not at all a testament to what my plans, hopes and dreams are.

I’m not defending myself (because I wasn’t attacked only questioned) here, nor would I want to, because I happen to love that my brain has contemplated things that the person Aja may never think to try. And so does the man who loves me. And I am also certain that this creative, imaginative brain of mine is a gift from God and I plan to use it to entertain for now. No, this is no defense, but I thought I would take the time to attempt to help shed light for those of us that may not understand how to use your . . . imagination.

-Aja

BLOG STOP VISIT: It’s Only Love by Roy Glenn

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Ladies aren’t the only ones that worry about the first date. Men do too. Listen to Victor.

From It’s Only Love:

It was finally Thursday; and I gotta tell you, these have been the longest two days of my life. I was getting ready to leave for the night, thinking how each hour seemed to drag on endlessly. How performing one important task, now seemed menial, tedious and boring.

I woke up Tuesday morning feeling so much enthusiasm about the new day. I felt energetic and eager to start the day. When I got to work, I felt like there was some type of magnetic field around me that I couldn’t explain, even if I tried. Some of you may find this hard to believe, but instead of concentrating on the preparation of complex financial analysis and models to aid in investment decisions, I was thinking about the night before. When I should have been focused on identifying potential markets and market trends, I was on Instagram looking at the wedding pictures that Paul and Vanessa had posted. But I didn’t find what I was looking for.

Yesterday and today I’ve been at a marketing event for the company; in meetings all day, preparing marketing strategies, describing the key attributes of client companies, and making client presentations. This is where the money is made. So you can imagine how important my undivided attention was, or at least it should have been. Was it?

No.

I spent my day half-listening to what people were saying to me, because I was thinking about what is and is not, appropriate first date dinner conversation. Trying to remember what was on the menu at Seasons 52, before excusing myself from a meeting to go in the hallway so I could look it up on my phone. I thought about what I should wear. It was a casual spot, but I didn’t want to be too casual, which led me into an internal discussion about what is and is not casual, and whether or not I should just go buy something new to wear.

But it didn’t stop there.

I was thinking about ducking out early on Thursday so I could get my hair cut. Whether or not I needed to get the car washed; should I bring flowers?—I had to stop myself there ’cause I knew I was tripping. I was excited and apprehensive at the same time. I felt stimulated when everything around me was totally uninspiring.

And the reason was Natasha Edwards.

Purchase on Amazon here.

Time For Letting Go

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In the spirit of Lent . . .

I’m possessive. There I said it.

What’s mine is mine and it’s no one else’s. At least in my mind that’s how it is. Don’t get me wrong, those things that are mine I take care of. I take great care of my possessions. In a way I’m this way about the people I love too but because I love them I tend to loosen my grip so they can experience the world the way they want to. You know, love is like that. It’s not supposed to be stifling.

This isn’t always easy however, because in addition to being possessive, I am pretty darn protective and if I see things going south for said loved one, I’ll want to hold on tighter to keep them from harm. And because I’m also unnaturally intuitive, I tend to see these harmful things before anyone else does. Sigh.

The thing is, I’m not God. I’m not in control. I’m not in control of I Am Yours any more than putting the words from my heart down on paper and doing my best to make sure it’s the best story I’ve ever told.

Eventually, I have to let it go.

Let it go to the content editor to critique and advise on changes; let it go to the copy editor to critique my errors and advise on changes; let the proofreader take his jabs at it . . . let –it – go . . . and give it to you, to read, then critique and make a decision about whether you enjoyed it.

I Am Yours is not mine anymore. Not my possession. It will be yours. I am working through the process of letting it go no different than I’ve had to learn to let go of people or things that have worn out their welcome or want to seek other, more glorious, opportunities.

I am letting go because that’s what this is all about. No matter the dangers that may lie ahead, I can’t protect my story from you. I have to let you have it and do with it as you please. Why?

Because I love it and in loving, I have to let go.

-Aja

I Am Yours

IAmYours

I am working hard to bring you Amara’s story to you. For now, here’s a taste of what’s to come.

“Did I say something wrong? You look like you’re clamming up.”
“No.”
“Yes. It’s always that way. You played shy and aloof.”
“I’m not playing at anything, Noah.”
“Maybe I should call it peek-a-boo.”
I laugh, my curls falling in my eyes. That was a cute way of putting it.
“See. You’ve come out again because I see you, Amara.”
My laughter died. And then we just stared at each other, the tension crackling between us like it always did, making it clear that no matter how long it’s been, this thing that we have will never die. Not even over business talk. But it was wrong. I’m not available to him that way anymore. I shouldn’t be. And I didn’t need my heart broken again either.
I brushed my hair away from my face, making it neat again.
“It’s not right, Noah.”
“It’s not.”
“This is why I retreat and you know it.”
“I know the reason. But I don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“So you think we can work on this project?”
“Why wouldn’t we be able to?”
“Because if you hold back, it’s in my nature to pull you out. And you’re going to hold back, Amara. I know it. I feel it now.”
“I know that.”
“And you’re still in?” His thick dark brow raised in question.
“Yes,” I said confidently, although I admit, my gut instinct had been in direct opposition with my intellect for a week since I called him. It must know something, something I refuse to admit. That by contacting him, I was bringing back the spark I tried so hard to dim for the past two years.

Unexpected’s New Cover

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“So you came over here to dispense worldly advice?” I shot at him. Being a smart ass was my defense mechanism. Maybe it would disarm him.
But he surprised me by saying, “No. I came over here to talk to you, because you were the only person here who stood stiff through every song until they played a good one.”
I laughed at that. He was smooth.
“Yeah, pop music isn’t my thing.”
“Mine either. I like music that makes me wanna move. I like to dance.”
His eyes ran the length of me slowly; like his view of me from across the room didn’t allow him to get a good look at me in my cream sequined open shoulder top and black sateen pencil legged pants. My toes wanted to curl inside my black leather Manolo pumps- all courtesy of Stacy’s makeover, when his eyes returned to mine before murmuring, “How about you Maya? Do you like dance?”
I picked up my Shirley Temple and took a long sip which made him chuckle.
“Let me stop messing with you. You seem a little—how do I put it?”
He seemed to be searching hard for the right word. So hard that I suspected I wouldn’t like it if he had just spit it out.
“Whatever you say, it shouldn’t be offensive unless you are looking forward to this conversation ending.”
“I was going to say, you seem a little serious. Does that offend you?”
I shook my head, denying it. But there was a sting; he was a stranger and in less than five minutes he knew to label me as serious. My outfit, coming to this event was supposed to show that I was living a little; not being so serious. Now I felt like my mission failed.
“You seem a little bothered by my observation.”
His gaze was unwavering and made me a little uncomfortable that he could see deep enough inside of me to read me. To read what I’d prefer to stay hidden; how I really felt.
Not sure why I felt comfortable enough with him to share this but not unnerved by it, I said, “Let’s just say that this isn’t generally my approach to life, at least not in the last couple of years. Mixers, dressing up, all of this is my friends idea.”
Matter of fact, where was Stacy? I looked around and saw her nowhere. She was up to something.
“You look beautiful,” he said drawing my attention back to him. “But you’d look even more so without the permanent scowl on your face. Who took the smile away?”
“That would be another topic that would end this conversation quick.”
His eyes narrowed while he contemplated his response. He didn’t seem pleased with me shutting him down. As long as he got answers, got to see inside of me, albeit temporary, he was content. Well I’m not that open of a book. A few pages will have to do.
“I see.” He looked away and it was as if the music, which was back to pop, the murmuring voices, the environment all came back to me. For the time we’d been talking, he had been my only focus and his focus on me was unquestionable.
I missed it already. How can I get that back when now that he couldn’t get me to open up more, he seemed to be done with me, but maybe we could talk more later. Somewhere else about something less. . . painful.
I watched as he nodded at his sister over by the DJ table, who I no longer thought of as Ms. Stilts.
“What’s her name?” I asked hoping to begin again.
He seemed distracted as he focused on me again. “Huh?”
“Your sister with the legs. What’s her name?”
“Bianca.”
“Okay.”
I was just about to give up when it seemed like he wasn’t interested in talking anymore. Maybe I wasn’t that desperate. Chasing after men, was also not my style and this event and my new found courage to live just a little wasn’t going to change that.
“Maya?”
“Yes.”
“I was thinking, you might be a little too intense for me. . .”
My mouth fell open. The nerve of him!
“But I always liked a challenge,” he added with an arrogance that quite frankly, turned me on. “I’d like to get to know you. How about a drink sometime?”
If looks could kill, this man would be lying at my feet. I know I gave him the death stare because that was my intent and I was always told my face, particularly my eyes, were expressive. But truth be told, his honesty was invigorating. Refreshing. Different. I liked it. He and I were a contradiction. And in spending some time with this man, I’d be living a little. Right?
“That would be nice, Roman.”
“Cool. Give me your phone; I’ll give you my number.”
“Shouldn’t I be giving you my number?”
“Who says?”
That’s a good question. Someone had made those rules up and I’m not sure who. But most women followed them.
“Fine.” I pulled my phone out from my clutch on the table and handed it to him. He took a few moments to enter in his info and then handed it back to me. He surprised me when he pulled his phone out of his pants and asked for my number. I laughed and recited it to him.
“See. Don’t make assumptions about me, Maya. Now come on and dance with me. We shouldn’t pass up an opportunity to dance to Funkadelic, should we?”
I liked him. I liked his take charge attitude and how he kept me on my toes and didn’t back down. In this brief exchange I felt he was the man to help me live a little. I looked forward to his call and to this dance with him.
The mission had not failed, the mission was on target.

Unexpected
By Aja
With Roy Glenn
© Aja Graves 2014
© Copyright Roy Glenn 2014

Purchase at Amazon.

Sample Sunday: I Am Yours – Coming in January

IAmYours

The next day could be been labeled mundane. Mundane tasks, mundane people. Keith.

After spending the afternoon remembering what happened in the car following dinner, spending the evening with Keith just seemed like a poor follow-up. With Noah, I always felt the passion between us even when were in denial about it but with Keith I always felt like there was something missing. Honestly I know our relationship was me settling for something safe, something that wouldn’t force me to change, to open up. Keith was content with allowing me to be this person and that was comforting. At least it was for a while.

With Noah, even last night, I felt like he wouldn’t accept the safe, the ordinary; he wanted to bring out the passion inside of me and passion was a dangerous thing. Just ask my mom.

So even though it would be another dull evening, when Keith called to cash in on last night’s rain check, I agreed to go over to his house. He was making dinner for me; chicken fettuccine alfredo- one of his specialties. So once we dispensed with the usual talk about our day he asked the question I was hoping to avoid.

“So what did you do last night?”

“Uh. . . well I went out for dinner last night.” Keith slowed his movements for a moment before stirring his sauce a little more vigorously.

“Oh- who’d you go out with or did you go by yourself?”

“Well that’s the thing; I went to dinner with Noah last night.”

Keith had stopped babying his sauce altogether and turned around so swiftly I worried he’d fall.

“You did what?”

“Let me explain-“

“Yes, please explain.”

“There’s a project in our division. We took bids for it. I’m sure you know about the integration project with training and development.” I waited for him to nod before continuing. “Well he put in a bid and won it. Dinner last night was business since we have to work together on it.”

Keith returned to his sauce and I fiddled with the pearls around my neck hoping he’d say something, anything, that would make me feel better about this crazy excursion I’ve decided to go on.

“You know he’ll want you back, Amara?” He asked the question so softly, I almost didn’t hear him. But I did hear him and knew he was right. Last night in the car proved that. It also proved that I was weak for Noah. I couldn’t even last five minutes in the car before my legs were up on the dashboard and he was fucking me with his talented fingers.

“You don’t know that,” I lied. “Noah is a professional, babe.”

“You know that, right?” He repeated it as if I hadn’t just tried to reassure him. This time he turned and looked me directly into my eyes. His stare was penetrating. It seemed to see through me and the bullshit but I couldn’t break under pressure.

I stared back; my eyes unwavering and responded, “Even if he does, he won’t get it. It’s me and you, Keith and you know that.”

The words tasted bitter on my tongue and were too thick to swallow at first. I’d never told such a boldface lie before and here I was lying to the man that had given me security, that had given me a place to hide when I’d almost allowed a man to make me weak for him.

Keith was a sure thing. Noah was not.

“Well, you remember that when you are spending time working on the project.” And with that he returned to the sauce and to the rest of the meal which was good. It was comfort food.

Comfort because I was familiar with it but there were times I’d like to try something new or eat Thai or Mexican. Keith didn’t like non-American food. When I pointed out that Alfredo sauce was Italian he deftly moved around that and claimed he was steak and potatoes kind of man.

We ate in relative silence and after I cleaned up the kitchen, my responsibility since he cooked, I moved to his bedroom and removed my clothing. I slid under the covers and waited for him to join me there. When he got to me, we kissed, he squeezed by breasts which had been ripe and tender for days now, and then he rubbed my clit until he felt I was wet enough for penetration. He moved in and out of me, gently at first and then rough like he was trying to fuck something out of my system but it was all in vain.

I’d never been able to rid myself of Noah, so Keith had no real chance to either.

I Am Yours

Coming in January

© Aja
Available for pre-order on Amazon now!

I Am Yours is available for Pre-order and a little teaser . . .

IAmYours

With a few presses of buttons on his console, James Brown’s Please, Please, Please poured out of the speakers.

He made a turn at the intersection, his large hand gliding against the leather of the wheel. Something about him controlling the vehicle with ease was not only soothing but made me think of all the delicious ways he controlled my body in the past. In fact, Noah had the ability to control me, if I’d let him but that was out of the question.

I squirmed in my seat, hoping to relieve this persistent ache with the friction, but knowing it was futile. Nothing but him being buried inside of me would do.

When we stopped at the red light, I felt his gaze on me. I peeped him from the corner of my eye and could see his attention on my bare thighs. I resisted the urge to open them for him to slip his hand inside to stroke the wetness that was there for him.

Please, Please, Please James Brown begged.

When we pulled off, I heard him groan before feeling his fingers begin to do the thing I’d been fantasizing about. His palm grabbed my thigh and squeezed it before quickly pushing my dress out of the way.

Before I knew it we were pulling over to the side of the desolate road. Instead of telling him to stop, like I should have, I watched as he pushed my thighs apart and then I became his look out to make sure there was no one coming down this stretch of highway.

Why would I want him to stop? Why stop the man that has given you the greatest most fantastic feeling over and over again? Why stop the man you were designed to be with but were too terrified to stay with? No, you don’t stop him. You assist him. You spread your legs wider and scoot forward so that he can pet it like you’ve been missing.

Soon he discovered I had on no panties, something he requested I not wear in the past, then he slid his finger along the seam of my slit as I started to writhe in the seat. Hell no. I wanted – – -no, needed this. No stopping it.

© Aja
I Am Yours
Coming in January

Pre-order on Amazon today!

I Am Yours on Amazon

Why Not Romance?

An Oldie but Goodie. Why not Romance?

Aja

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The word ‘romance,’ according to the dictionary, means excitement, adventure, and something extremely real. Romance should last a lifetime. -Billy Graham

Anyone who truly knows me, shoot let me stop right there. Anyone that has spent any time conversing with me on FB or in person, knows that I am a fan of the Romance genre of books. I don’t hide it and I am absolutely in love with the idea of people falling in love and staying there. I like to see the couple end on a happy note, whether that’s with a wedding, or major commitment that in the beginning didn’t seem like it’d be a possibility and if they throw in a baby?? That is awesome(in my singsong voice)!

I know many who won’t ever read a book as I’ve described, but to each his own. I don’t particularly care for murder mysteries or any mystery now…

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Going the Distance . . .

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I am having the hardest time with I Am Yours. I know that’s not what you want to hear right now but it’s true and it is not because I don’t love the people or the journey these two people (Amara and Noah) have embarked upon. It’s because it’s taking so darn long to tell their story. They are complicated and in a complicated predicament and I’ve grown a little impatient with them.

I didn’t realize it until someone pointed out to me that I am the kind of writer that gets an idea inspired by something and then I sit down and run with it. I can come up with something from a prompt which is highly creative of me but that does not a novel make. A novel takes the discipline to stay with the story even when that inspiration has fizzled and died. This is not a sprint, I remind myself.

Lately I’ve been working through these tough times and it occurred to me while I trudged through, that writing a novel is a lot like a relationship. In the beginning it’s passionate and you can’t get enough of each other. You sneak hot kisses and gropes to body parts when no one is looking just to get through a long day. When you walk in the door from that long day, you’re too impatient to set the mood with candles and plush down bedding, no, you yank off your clothes and get it on right there, against the wall, on the rough carpeted floor or on the couch. And in the middle of the night when you both shift and brush against each other, it’s seen as an invitation to start all over again; slipping it in from the side so you don’t have the unpleasantries of sleep filled eyes and dank, stinky breath. When the sun’s rays filter through the blinds, you are rocking into each other over and over to start the day right. A sprint.

After a while though, you settle in, getting used to each other and not that you feel any differently, you just don’t go out of your way like you used to. Those stolen moments filled with passion that kept you going in the mundane tasks of life are almost lost. However, it would be a mistake to get lulled by the fact that you are with “the one”; that the passion will be there when you are good and ready because he or she requires the same effort today as they did yesterday and even when you feel like things have settled, we are in a constant state of flux as individuals; the only way to survive it on the other side together is to give it all you’ve got now. Always. Never give up. I’ve got to give my story all I’ve got always and forever so we both can make it to the other side.

Funny thing is, as I was closing this post up to share with you, I thought about the difference in the sprinter and the long distance runner. That long distance runner gives all they have until completion but the pacing is just so. It’s just right so that the energy is there until the end. So it’s all in the pacing, huh?

Maybe rather than be worked up about it not coming as quickly and as intensely as before I should be happy to have the reserves (which means it’s still there) to keep going and use them until I can see the finish line and sprint my way there. Until completion.

Your thoughts?

-Aja

The Writing Process Blog Tour

IAmYours

What am I working on?
I am currently working on I Am Yours.

It’s an erotic romance about a woman, Amara, afraid to lose control with the man that she’s loved for years. She does everything to avoid what’s inevitable but a project brings them close together and the wheels start to turn. The only kink, besides the kink between the sheets, is that she is practically engaged to a man she’s been playing it safe with.

How does my release differ from others of its genre?

I’m not sure if it differs much from other erotic romances; there will be love and plenty of hot sex but what does differ about my brand of romance in general, is that it’s real. You can expect that whatever happens in the scene is something I’ve either experienced or I know is possible for regular folks. Even if the heroine did something completely stupid, it’s the kind of stupid thing that real people do. There’s no fantasy here only that these people will most likely make it- flaws, stupidity and all.

Why do I write what I do?

I write it because it comes to me with enough strength that I can’t ignore it and writing is my way of expressing it. Characters have a way of making me stop what I’m doing and sharing something they are up to. I pay attention long enough to gauge whether they deserve their own story or whether they are there to help me with another. Lately, my characters are involved in sticky love situations but I have other genres waiting to flow out of me.

How does my writing process work?

After I receive enough from the character and that one poignant scene in my head, I think about the rest of the story, if there is one. I jot down all of what comes to me and work on organizing my thoughts. Most of my process is in my head. I am currently working on developing a better outline plan, including character outlines, because it became necessary for this particular story.

My tag picks are:

Michele Kimbrough, Author Allyn Lesley, and Melissa Blue

-Aja
Author of Unexpected

Unexpected by Aja w/Roy Glenn is now also available at B&N!

Unexpected-Cover

He slid his hands into his pants pockets looking even more relaxed. One thick brow rose, “How do you know what I need?”
“I don’t; not really. Sorry for my presumptions.”
“Lighten up—what’s your name?”
“Maya.”
“Nice name, Maya. My name is Roman Newsome.”
“Nice to meet you, Roman.”
“Very nice to meet you too, Maya.” He shifted his weight from one leg to another and then he leaned closer to me. “But like I was saying; you think too much. Anyone ever tell you that?”
I smiled. “Yes, but I have a brain. That’s what it’s there for. Thinking”
“Yes, but you also have a heart. And it’s there for feeling. Use it and give your brain a chance to rest.”

Available at:

Amazon

B&N

Smashwords

Unexpected by Aja w/Roy Glenn is now on Sale!

Unexpected-Cover

He slid his hands into his pants pockets looking even more relaxed. One thick brow rose, “How do you know what I need?”
“I don’t; not really. Sorry for my presumptions.”
“Lighten up—what’s your name?”
“Maya.”
“Nice name, Maya. My name is Roman Newsome.”
“Nice to meet you, Roman.”
“Very nice to meet you too, Maya.” He shifted his weight from one leg to another and then he leaned closer to me. “But like I was saying; you think too much. Anyone ever tell you that?”
I smiled. “Yes, but I have a brain. That’s what it’s there for. Thinking”
“Yes, but you also have a heart. And it’s there for feeling. Use it and give your brain a chance to rest.”

Available at:

Amazon

Smashwords

Reflections

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photo credit: Lauren Muscarella

One year ago. . .

I sat at my desk contemplating my intended action. Should I post this? Should I let people into my own private world? They would know too much about me or they’d think they would. Too many words, too many scenarios will be shared if I were honest and raw with my thoughts and with my stories. Can I truly reveal the real me; the real Aja?

I clicked “post”, scheduling it to appear the following day, May 1st. I allowed the “world” to know something about me that had been very private, almost lying dormant inside of me since I was so use to not sharing it with others.

It was scary, terrifying; exciting and invigorating. I was torn between wanting to run away from the computer the following day to needing to check my blog every five minutes to see what would happen with this announcement that the Aja they’ve known for so long to be someone, was actually someone else entirely. She is a writer. And had always been and the ideas that threatened to come out in every day conversations would either bore you, fascinate you, terrify you, make you blush or make you run home to your fine-behind man.

Yeah, there are some stories in me that would do that.

One year ago I was afraid of my own shadow and one year later I am now about to click “publish”.

This is no longer a game. Whether no one likes the stories I tell, whether I receive no positive reviews on my effort; I made an effort. I actually went from dreaming to doing. I created then completed it. I am preparing to let you and everyone know this is not a figment of my imagination.

One year ago tomorrow, I told you “That writer is me. I am a writer”.

Soon, very soon, I will be a published author.

-Aja

UNEXPECTED – A short story coming soon from Aja with Roy Glenn

Unexpected-Cover

Unexpected

Maya Taylor has been left stung by the arrow of love one too many times for her liking. Swearing off heartache she decides that the staid and boring life is just fine for her. But a well-meaning friend points out that she isn’t really living at all and helps Maya embark on a journey with a new attitude. This leads to a chance encounter with a handsome gentleman that is all about living in the moment.

Roman Newsome has constantly been on the search for the perfect woman. She needs to look beautiful, have something to talk about other than herself and be able to keep up with his prowess in bed. But having found out that most women pretend to have it all only to reveal their true unappealing colors, he’s decided the perfect woman must not exist. Until he meets Maya. . .

Can these two fundamentally different people make their romance work? Will he settle his spirit long enough to realize that “perfect” really just means, perfect for him? And will Maya accept that she has to take a chance at love in order to truly live the life she’s destined to?

What happens between them may just be . . . unexpected.

Book It Author Spotlight: Aja The Writer

Check me out!

Book It Chicago

aja-graves-book-bandit

Aja is the writer of sensually erotic women’s fiction. Her stories allow readers to experience realistic, inspiring and soulful interactions between her characters and intense passion between couples overcoming life’s challenges. With two published series of books already, including the Unexpected series penned with Roy Glenn and Love Stages with Angelia Vernon Menchan, she is currently working on Love’s Required.

Book Euphoria Q1: What is your writing process? Do you have a routine or must be in a zone before you write?

Aja The Writer A1: My writing process begins before I sit down to write. I spend my early morning as I get ready for my day, thinking about my characters in my next scene. I want to see them move around and hear them speak before I sit down to write. I’ve already reviewed the next chapter I’m writing so once I sit down, I know what and…

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