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  That could have easily been the headline in the Oakland Post in 1963, but as far as I know there were no stories written about the little girl who sat on her bed looking at a picture book being scalded with a bucket of boiling water. Nor were there any published psychological profiles about the little girl’s neighbor who threw the water through an open window. The girl and her mother weren’t featured guests on any of the morning news shows at the time; there were no fundraisers by those in the community, or visits to the hospital by any sports stars or celebrities. The story was relatively irrelevant. However, although decades old, the story does touch me deeply, because I’m the little girl. Rarely do I think about that day, but last night while sitting at my dining room table reading the draft of the third installment of the Cass and Nick trilogy, I flashed back to the morning I was sitting on my bed in our small duplex apartment flipping through the pages of my sister’s school book. My sisters and already gone to school and my mother was mopping t...
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Last week I took a trip to the ATL. It’s been close to fifteen years since I stepped foot in the city that’s home to one of my many guilty pleasures. You guessed correctly—Atlanta Housewives!  I was previously on vacation, but this time I was there to support one of my closest girlfriends, who also happens to be my stylist. I knew I would be flying. That’s my mode of transportation for all long-distance travel, but it’s not necessarily one I enjoy. It’s definitely the fastest and surprisingly the safest  (according to statistics there are more than five million traffic accidents per year compared to twenty airplane accidents per year) way to get cross-country, but with invasive security checks and invariable delays, it’s not necessarily the most convenient. And in spite of the stats, flying can still be quite unnerving. So when I fastened my seat belt I said a prayer, asking God to watch over the pilot, co-pilot, me, and the rest of the brave souls who were taking to the cloudy gray skies that morning. I peered out the window, looking at the rain,...
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Posted by on in Married in the Nick of Nine
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A month ago my sister told me she had wrestled all night because God had given her a message to pass along to me.  As I stood in the Honda dealership waiting for my car to be serviced, I wondered what God had told my sister that he chose not to tell me.  It didn’t take her long to tell me that in order to get my new novel “Married in the Nick of Nine” to the next level I would have to look deep within because the answer was inside of me.  “What?” was my immediate response. My sister is very spiritual, much more than I am, but like her, I do believe God can speak to us. It’s that inner voice. So I closed my eyes and a giant wedding gown filled my entire being and in that moment I had the answer. I was supposed to organize a wedding march. I was so excited that I ran out of the dealership onto the parking lot talking a mile a minute. The car salesmen probably thought I had gone bonkers. After the initial excitement wore off, reality began to sink in, and I was gripped with fear. What in the world was I thinking?  A wedding march? How am I g...
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  If you’ve ever listened to me being interviewed or read one of my interviews, you’ve most likely heard me refer to my books as my babies. Well, that’s actually very true. I wasn’t blessed to have children for various reasons. By the time I found “The One,” I was in my late thirties. When my husband and I decided to start a family, my doctor told me my fibroids were not an issue, but my age was! Like a lot of women, I had bought into the Hollywood myth that a woman could get pregnant and give birth at any age. Not! After exhaustive research, I discovered that many of the forty-something actresses who were bearing their protruding bellies on the covers of popular magazines were using surrogates and Invitro. After trying out some of the latest technology myself, and failing, I finally gave up and accepted that God did not want me to have human children. What a gracious God we have. When one door closes, another one opens. God allowed me to still create, but with words. Thus, my books take on special meaning and like every mother, I’m protective of my chi...
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Posted by on in Married in the Nick of Nine
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For the past nine years, my husband has dreamed about owning a grand piano. Well this past Monday, his dream came true. Around nine o’clock, a truck pulled up to our house and delivered his beautiful Yamaha. However, little did either of us know that his dream would become my nightmare. Don’t get me wrong, I was also excited about him finally getting his dream piano, so much so, that we purged the living room to be sure we had enough room for “Yamita.” That’s the name he’s given to the new woman in his life. On Monday, he called me at work to give me a blow-by-blow description of the installation. I could hear the joy and pride in his voice as he talked about how the movers used a special dolly and runners so that they wouldn’t damage precious Yamita. After he described how everything was unfolding, I couldn’t wait to get home to see this beautiful instrument in all its glory in our living room. I thought about the facelift Yamita would give to one of my favorite rooms in the house, especially now that we have new hardwood floors. I held my breath while I...
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