Coming Home...Well, One of Aaron and Jada's Homes...

I drive up the Spanish moss–canopied dirt lane toward the big house of LeMay Plantation, mouth agape, but I don’t care. The A/C of my late-model Volvo is on full blast even though it is not yet noon in Beaufort, SC, and perspiration breaks at my temple.

But I suppose that has to do more with nerves than anything else.

I park beside an even older-model gold Acura and grin. My clothes stick to her skin as soon as I get out of my car, and my polarized shades seem to make the Old-South scene even grander without them. I walk by more automobiles, not the least bit surprised at the Buick crossover or the Porsche SUV, and start to twirl a soft coil of her hair as I approach the vast porch and front door. I’m far too old to fidget the way I am, but I don’t much care, and I ring the doorbell.

A small, yet regal woman opens the door and tears immediately spring into my eyes; and they only come faster when another woman, with gray hair now streaking her head, stands beside the first. I hide my face in my hands, but they pulled them away, and the younger one wraps me in her arms. The elder rubs my back.

Savannah J. Frierson (SJF): Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I hadn’t…

Coralee Simmons Drummond (CSD): Mama’s crying.

Jada Channing McKensie: (JCM): Can you blame her? We’re basically her kids!

CSD: All grown up.

JCM: Yes, we are! You’re proud of us, aren’t you?

SJF: *Nods* I have no words, none at all. I just want to thank you so much—

CSD: Ma, I don’t know why you’re thanking us!

JCM: Seriously! Without you, we wouldn’t even be here!

CSD: And that’s just a tragedy to even think about!

JCM: But in the meantime, come on in! It’s hot as Hades outside and Miss Coralee made some sweet tea!

CDS: And Jada made those sweet rolls…I don’t know why you made her make these delicious sweet rolls—don’t know whether to cuss you or praise you!

They loop one of their arms through each of mine and usher me inside, Jada pausing to close the door behind her. The space is modern, updated, and gorgeous, with plush furniture, carpeting, and rich hardwood floors. It takes everything I have not to whip out my PDA to look up the type of wood that had been used.

They lead me to the screen-in porch overlooking the marsh where two men were watching something on their pad PDA. They suddenly shout and the elder one does an awkward jig that makes me snort. Both men look up, and the dancing man immediately smiles and all but runs toward me.

Benjamin Drummond (BD): *hugs me tightly* Savannah J. Frierson, as I live and breathe!

CDS: And snore—be glad it’s not naptime!

BD: *pouts* You’re not funny, Ceelee.

JCM: I’ll have to disagree with that; I think she’s hilarious!

BD: Freda’s still a bad influence—

Aaron McKensie (AM): I see your bad influence and raise you Deshae Green.

BD: *grins* I bet Deshae learned at Freda’s knee.

JCM: *laughs* You just like her because she flirts with you all the time!

CDS: Deshae flirts with everyone all the time.

BD: She has good taste, darlin’; what’s it the kids used to say—don’t hate!

Everyone groans except Jada, who giggles into my shoulder.

BD: *scowls* You should be nicer to your elders, Miss Jada.

Jada rolls her eyes but kisses Benjamin’s cheek, and he beams. I try to hover at the door, as if to make a break for it, but Coralee shakes her head and leads me to the couch. Aaron is there and wraps me in a far less exuberant but no less intimate hug, and I all but cling to him.

AM: Hello, love.

SJF: You shouldn’t call me that.

AM: I do a lot of things I shouldn’t…and all of them with your tacit permission!

JCM: Naw! Don’t even try to blame her for your ninja sperm! Knocking me up like you did!

AM: Did she, or did she not, allow me to be your husband?

CSD: Ooh…you hear how he said that, Benny? Never too old to take notes, baby!

BD: Notes! Ha! I lecture now—paid my dues and all those student loans already!

JCM: Let’s not discuss student loans.

AM: You know she still brings up the fact I paid hers?

JCM: I gotta keep our kids humble, Aaron McKensie! Some of us didn’t come out poopin’ Benjamins out our butts!

BD: Excuse me?

CSD: Amen!

Aaron and Benjamin sigh heavily but sit next to their wives. Benny wraps an arm around Coralee shoulders while Aaron tangles his fingers with Jada’s. I search around for a place to sit, but Coralee pats the space between them.

CSD: You’re sitting right here right now.

I blanche. It’s not in me to refuse an elder, except, technically, I’m older, but old lessons are hard to unlearn. As soon as I sit two extremely handsome young men enter with trays full of food and pitchers of drink, and I have to blink. The McKensie boys are certainly not babies anymore!

Charles Augustus “Chaz” McKensie (CM): Ohh! Hey, I’m Chaz—but you already know that, and I love older women—but you already know that too. Yes, I will marry you—you probably didn’t know that, but you do now—

Joshua Alexander Channing McKensie (JAM): *kisses my cheek, effectively interrupting his brother* Did you know he’d be this silly when you wrote him?

SJF: *laughs* He was initially Ava, but then Chaz realized Iman was going to be born and decided jump in my head and skip line.

Jada glares at her husband.

JCM: Savannah, how many kids was I originally supposed to have?

SJF: *shifts uncomfortably* Two. A boy and a girl.

AM: Double your pleasure, double your fun!

The wide grin he gives leaves Jada unmoved and she rolls her eyes.

CSD: I’m appreciative of the one you gave me.

I squeeze Coralee’s hand.

SJF: That’s all I saw; I’m sorry.

BD: *kisses his wife’s temple.* Simone is perfect. I don’t even mind that Powell boy she married.

CSD: Also known as your godson.

AM: Like that makes a difference!

JCM: It should! Acting like these boys are brand spanking new—

AM: Operative word is boy!

I shared a look with Coralee and Jada, and we all rolled our eyes. Joshua and Chaz had already made their getaways.

SJF: I’m not getting in the middle of it, other than to say, you know your girls could do much worse than the sons of family friends you love and trust.

CSD: Amen!

JCM: They want to keep their daughters five years old; it doesn’t work that way.

BD: It should!

CSD: If it did, you wouldn’t have these daughters in the first place because you wouldn’t have us!

That makes the men pause for a split second, but then they both shake their heads.

BD: We’re different!

JCM: *snorts* Unicorns?

AM: Leprechauns!

CSD: You’re too tall to be a leprechaun, dear.

AM: I don’t know the Italian equivalent.

JCM: How about an ass?

AM: *smirks* You like my ass.

Jada huffs but can’t control her grin when her husband starts necking her. I sigh with exasperation, thinking of how they’ve only gotten worse with the public displays of affection the longer I’ve known them. If they weren’t so adorable, my teeth would ache. Coralee and Benjamin, on the other hand, spent most of their time gently teasing each other, although it is mostly Benjamin doing the teasing and Coralee giggling. She still has her gorgeous smile and Benjamin still stares at her as if she were the most beautiful creation God has ever made.

BD: Felix sends his love, by the way. He’d be here but he’s at St. Simon’s with the missus.

CSD: And Felix has aged very well, I can assure you—

Benjamin clears his voice much more loudly than is required. My PDA dings and I notice a forward from Aaron. I open it and I see a thirty-page invoice attached.

AM: That’s Rodrigo’s therapy bill for making him have all girls.

JCM: Karma is such a beautiful thing!

My PDA dings again and this time it’s an e-mail from Veronica with a picture of her family attached.

JCM: We’re going to meet up around Christmas, I believe, babe?

AM: New Year’s. We’re going to India for our wedding anniversary.

JCM: Twenty-three years?

AM: That’s it?

They laugh as they kiss and Coralee winks at me.

CSD: Well, I’ve felt every single one of our fifty years.

BD: We cannot have been married for fifty years when you barely look a day over forty.

CSD: That’s actually really mean; My head wasn’t this gray when I was forty!

Benjamin kisses the top of her head and holds her close. Jada and Aaron look at them fondly.

JCM: I wanna be y’all when I grow up.

AM: I thought you wanted to be my parents.

JCM: I want to be anyone who makes it. I certainly don’t want to be my parents…

SJF: *squeezes her shoulder* Sorry about that.

JCM: I just love you left off all those revelations out the first book. Like the stuff about my dad and my brother.

Aaron looks everywhere but at them and I arch an eyebrow, popping a bite of a sweet roll in my mouth. He really hadn’t been on his best behavior during that period, and it’s only by my mercy I haven’t put him on blast yet for the public to see. But if he keeps on being such a hard-nose about Ava and her boo, that may have to change.

SJF: I didn’t know most of those revelations until the book was over, and that’s not my fault; out of all of my characters, you all talk the most and just keep telling me things all the time!

BD: We don’t bother you, Savannah…then again, that’s because Felix hogging the microphone.

SJF: Felix is a sweetie; always has been. He waited, what, two years before deciding to tell me his story. Bless his heart.

CSD: Say that again. I love Felix and I’m glad he’s finally getting his story told; although he would like an ETA of when it’ll be finished.

I take a long gulp of my sweet tea and blush at Coralee’s laugh.

CSD: I know you’ll finish it, sweetheart. You’ve got a lot of demands upon you.

BD: Interlopers.

AM: Excuse me? If I recall, Mr. Drummond, Savannah had been working on our story for months until something called “National Novel Writing Month” and “thesis angst” got her to start writing your story—

BD: Ours is better—

JCM: Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry—

CSD: You didn’t just turn into a five year old before our eyes, did you?

BD: Everyone says so!

Aaron glowers at the coffee table and Jada rubs his back. I shake my head and shrug.

SJF: I cannot control audience response. Your stories resonate differently, but I love you both. Jada and Aaron’s story will always have a special place in my heart because they were first and they’ve been with me the longest; from them, I’ve spun off so many stories; but without you, Benny and Ceelee, I don’t have the universe I’ve somehow started to create. I’m so glad you chose me to tell your stories, and that’s all I’m going to say on that matter.

Jada and Coralee hug me and Aaron stands, stretching.

AM: I’m hungry. Are you hungry?

BD: *stands with help from his wife* I think I smell your son making more of those sweet rolls?

The men leave us alone and Jada and Coralee laugh, both leaning forward conspiratorially.

JCM: So…what’s this I hear about Joshie’s story being written?

CSM: And my grandbaby, Freelee, I hear tell there is some percolating going on with her story!

I laugh and eat more of the sweet roll and give a coy shrug.

SJF: Joshua’s story is already written and your granddaughter is like the wind—can’t really catch it for long. But if Freelee sits down long enough, her story will be told. I promise.

CSM: Good. Nothing like love to get you to slow down, huh, Jada Mae?

JCM: Nothing like it at all!

A Partial Career Update

I had a really good time at the book signing I attended two weeks ago. I didn't sell much, but the people I met were wonderful, and it was good to see so many self-published out there--and not just self-published, but bonafide publishers of their own. It was inspirational, truly. It was one of the best experiences at a book fair I have had. And now there's an article about African-American Romance and how people are finally waking up to the fact that black people/women read and voraciously, and that our stories...aren't as typical as the "mainstream", and that "our romanace" ain't like "theirs", and yet it is.

Pushing at boundaries, baby.

Which is probably why I am struggling through the end of a novel I am writing because it's taking very many twists and turns to get to the ending I see. I am a fly-by-your-seat writer because I let the characters do what they will. The times I've tried to force them in the direction I want them to go...they've never ended well. So I'm just a reporter on the insanity that is my mind and L'Hotel Characters Who Don't Know What the Devil They Want Other Than a HEA. So, I've been writing...other things that aren't so twisting and turning and angst-filled and heavy. I've gotten great response for it, but I still chug away at the novel.

Meh.

So, as I've been "unemployed" since February, I'm shifting more of my focus on manuscript editing. I just finished a project for Aliyah Burke and I have at least three more to work on for her; as well as Shara Azod offering me work on some projects for her, and Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh wanting me on tap for them once their publishing house gets off the ground. I'm truly, truly grateful for this, and I am also a little anxious. Editing someone else's work is nerve-wracking, especially because it's someone else's. I try my hardest to go a good job, but those times you don't...everyone notices. I want to lower the rate of those instances significantly, because the one time I didn't it turned into a fiasco that almost led me to severing relationships with people I truly admire and respect. I know life is like that, but that part of life ain't the business at all!

I also have to think of my own writing career--the above novel aside. I have another novel that, like I said in a previous post, that everyone in the romance industry who judged it tore into smithereens. Now I have to wonder if I should just scrap the entire idea or self-publish it on my own. Like the above novel, this one goes into some very "don't be going there!" territories in the romance genre. And maybe I just need to reread it again or...a fresh pair of eyes should read it. It got great response when I had it up on my Google Group, but, I don't know...yet, I do have a few others I could release. Then again, there are other avenues of publication and I should never forget those. I have to keep trying and not get so comfortable in DIY. And...I need to get more comfortable at DIY too! However, I'm getting dangerously low on my "already written" cache.

Hence the need for me to finish up that novel. And Felix's Story. And too many other stories I've started and haven't looked at in months...maybe years. You'd think with all this "free time" I have I'd know how to be more productive. But if my muse ain't there, he ain't there.

*please come back muse, please!*

I think the solution is to leave my house, not even take my computer, and handwrite. We'll see if I do that. But if I pretend I'm "going to work" (although, I am), I'll be more productive than staring at the same more-than-four walls of my apartment (have I mentioned I love my apartment? Yes!).

Yay, early Saturday-morning purges!

Why Y'all Should Go to My Google Group

Because I have two ficlets there pertaining to the upcoming TROLLING NIGHTS release, that's why!

More Than a Summer Love (Formerly NaNo '08)

I decided to turn my NaNo from last year into my free read for this year. You can go to my Google Group and check out subsequent chapters. I try to update every Sunday. This story is more than just about a summer love, and that fact snuck up on me with a quickness. It's very organic and it's hitting on things I never thought I'd tackle. I won't give it all away, but hopefully you'll want to check it out and enjoy.

For a refresher, here's an excerpt from Chapter 1.

~~~~
More Than a Summer Love (c) 2009, 2008 by Savannah J. Frierson

Charleston, SC—Summer 2000

The bass from the music and the laughter of the partying crowd was muted as the sounds trickled outside to the silent quad where two teenagers, a boy and a girl, sat on the high, oversized bench in their dance attire. They didn’t look at each other, but at the silver light of the lamp in the distance mixing with the strobe lights dotting the path and grass from the revelry inside. The girl sat with her knees to her chest, the skirt of her burgundy dress long enough to allow the position while he sat hunched over his knees, his tie undone and hanging limply around his broad neck. A slight breeze fell upon them, and it made her shudder. Sensing her brief discomfort, the boy sat up and finally glanced in her direction. She kept her eyes forward, though both knew she was aware of his gaze; and when he draped his high-school letterman jacket around her shoulders, both knew she blushed even though the light was dim and she’d ducked her head.

He hadn’t removed his arm from around her after giving her his jacket. Instead, he’d sidled up to her, making sure she’d be good and warm by sharing his body heat with her. She still didn’t look at him, but both gave internal, relieved sighs when she snuggled into his body. This was the first time all summer they didn’t care what other people thought of them being together like this, showing more affection than mere friends ever should. Maybe because tomorrow everyone would go home.

She hid her face into his shoulder and let out a shaky breath. His other hand came up to smooth down her soft, thick hair.

“Ebony,” he whispered, his lips against her temple.

She closed her eyes and clutched his white dress shirt, feeling his chest muscles bunch underneath her hand. He’d never said her name with such reverence . . . such wistfulness. The lump in her throat made it impossible to say his name in return.

Liam.

“Ebony,” he said again, this time pulling back so his index finger could tuck underneath her chin and raise her head so their eyes would meet for the first time since escaping the dance. Ebony wished there were more light so she could fully see his brandy eyes and the freckles that lightly dotted the bridge of his pale nose.

“Come with me.”

She knew it was a question even though he’d said it as a statement. The lump grew larger in her throat, so she could only nod her assent.

The majority of the people were downstairs at the dance, and the counselor who was manning the residential halls was snoring up a storm at his reception desk. They stopped on her floor, the fourth floor; the boys’ floor was a level below. Ebony pulled the key out the clutch of the purse dangling on her wrist, and soon they were in her room. The way the dorm was set up was there was a common area with a single on either side. Ebony was staying with a girl from Florence—she’d been really nice—and she’d also had many male visitors after hours. This was the first time Ebony would have one, but she doubted it’d be the same type of host her roommate had been.

Liam pulled off the jacket, leaving her arms and shoulders exposed once more. She saw him drape it on the back of her chair from the corner of her eye, and Ebony slipped out of her shoes as she made her way to sit on the bed. Liam didn’t come any closer to her, just stood by her chair, his large, brawny body taking up so much space and making the tiny room feel even smaller. His hands were in the pockets of his khakis. She knew he was clenching them because the muscles of his forearms tensed and relaxed.

“Why are you nervous?” she asked, though the question sounded much sillier out in the universe than it ever had in her head. The question was painfully rhetorical—this was the first time they’d been alone alone. There weren’t any friends or books or teachers or dinners or adoring fangirls to distract them from the thing that had been building since he’d helped her carry her trunk of desk lamps, books, iron, pillows, and linens up to her room their first day here at SSGSC—Summer School for the Gifted of South Carolina.

It was Ebony’s turn to fidget, breaking eye contact with him and looking at her butter-pecan hands. They trembled, and she mimicked Liam’s nervous tick and clutched them tightly in her lap.

“Why are you?”

She wouldn’t tell him because she felt as buzzed as a lit-up neon sign by his presence, always had, but now was forced to confront it. Her dress was suddenly itchy, restricting, and she wanted to change, but she didn’t want him to leave.

She heard him approach and the bed dipped under his substantial mass. Ebony tensed at his nearness, especially when his breath brushed her bare shoulder seconds before his lips did. She sighed and closed her eyes, her head automatically tilting away from him to expose her neck to his traveling mouth. A hand slid to her stomach, and her fingers uncurled so she could touch his knuckles.

“You smell good,” Liam murmured against her flushed skin. She jumped when moisture touched her. “Taste good too.”

Ebony couldn’t believe what was happening. Of all the scenarios that had run through her mind, none of them included actually acting out on . . . whatever had been brewing between them. Even now she was thinking of ways to minimize the meaning of his mouth on her body, but when his lips drifted up her jaw to her cheek, her brain shorted.

Liam’s forehead rested against her temple, their fingers now intertwined against her stomach. Ebony couldn’t remember when that had happened, but his thumb caressing hers gave her just enough sanity so she could breathe.

“I wish you lived in Charleston.”

Ebony sighed and leaned her temple into Liam’s forehead even more. He moved and pressed his lips against her skin. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

She would, though. Her mother had said she’d be down bright and early tomorrow morning so they could get the van back to the church on time. In fact, her room now looked just as bare as it had when Liam had first helped her with her belongings, save for her linens still on her bed. Her mother had thought him a nice white boy at the time, though Ebony hadn’t understood then why her mother had even mentioned his color.

Now she thought she did.

“Who’s gonna keep me in line when you’re gone?”

Ebony laughed at that, that uncomfortable tension broken by their failsafe use of humor. She turned her forehead to his and they smiled at each other, his hand drifting atop her head to the bun at her nape. They stared into each other’s eyes, but then tears sprang into hers, so she closed them.

His lips were barely discernable as he kissed each slip of moisture from her cheek. Ebony was glad she sobbed with dignity, even if what she really wanted to do was howl into his chest and never let him go.

Winner of the Valentine's Day Free Read

Gunnar Daniels was seeing red…and a whole lot of milk chocolate too…

“Daaammnn!”

Gunnar slapped the picture facedown and glared at his employee-turned-partner. “Direct your eyes somewhere else!”

Damon Wilkes merely smirked and wagged his eyebrows. “Can I get an amen?!”

Gunnar’s jaw set in a firm line as his eyebrow arched. Damon stepped back, his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just sayin’…we got some fine-ass women carryin’ our names…or about to, in your case…”

Gunnar didn’t respond, but he also couldn’t help but flip the photograph over again. There was a slight glare from the light as it hit the glossy paper, but it couldn’t block the sight of his fiancée wearing nothing but a smile on a deep-red, fuzzy, heart-shaped carpet. It didn’t matter none of her goodies weren’t on full display, just the hint of all the deliciousness she had to offer made Gunnar want to commit numerous felonies.

“You’re crumplin’ the edges, man,” Damon said, his own dark-chocolate hand pointing to Gunnar’s pale fingers. “I don’t think Tyler would appreciate that.”

Gunnar threw down the pictures and shot up, pacing in what little space he had behind his desk. Running his fingers through his light-brown hair, he wracked his mind trying to figure just when the hell Tyler had even had time to take the pictures…and who did.

Plopping back down in his chair, Gunnar dialed a familiar number, not even caring it was butt-crack in the morning where this person was.

“Somebody better be dying,” came the surly voice.

“You will, søster…”

“Why?” the woman asked on a yawn, sounding far too unconcerned about her impending execution.

“Why do I have naked pictures of my fiancée sitting on my desk?”

Inge gasped, and then she squealed. Gunnar heard her husband complain in the background. “You got them! How do they look? She just looks decadent, doesn’t she?”

“Inge…”

“Oh, shut up and accept the fact din forlovede er nydelig,” Inge commanded.

Gunnar gritted his teeth and huffed. He didn’t need pictures to know Tyler was beautiful. He’d noticed that the first time he saw her, although he hadn’t accepted her type of beauty as immediately. He’d been used to the manufactured variety from the fashion world—had been part of it. But Tyler was a different kind, natural and overflowing with it from the inside that Gunnar had forgotten “beauty” meant a single-digit dress size and long, flowing hair like his industry had tried to make him believe. Never mind the fact that, point blank, Tyler was stunning regardless of her measurements, but they’d had a few rocky moments during the beginning of their relationship trying to convince each other that Tyler’s beauty was acceptable…preferred…to the commoditized versions magazines and commercials sold.

“Who took the pictures?” Gunnar asked, changing tack. When Inge didn’t answer immediately, his gray eyes narrowed. “Inge, tell me the photographer didn’t have a penis.”

“What if he were gay—”

“I don’t fucking care—!”

“What if she were gay?”

Gunnar’s nostrils flared and his hand tightened around the receiver, both at Inge’s question and the fact Damon wasn’t doing a very good job of not laughing at him.

“Point being,” Gunnar said, doing his best to keep his voice level. “Nobody should be seeing my woman naked but me!”

“The photos are tastefully done and they aren’t going on sale, Gunnar,” Inge said, irritation seeping into her speech. “And if it makes you feel any better, I took the photos and I developed them, okay?”

He felt as if he were about to pop several essential blood vessels even though Inge’s confession did lower his heart rate dramatically. Taking a deep breath, Gunnar dropped his tone even more. “Whose idea was this?”

“Tyler’s.”

Now that did surprise him. “Really?”

“Yes, she said she wanted to do something special for you. What a jerk she’s being, huh?”

Gunnar scowled at his sister’s sarcasm. “I got it.”

“Do you? Why are you so pissy? I think she looks hot. If I weren’t happily married and heterosexual, I’d do her.”

Gunnar rolled his eyes. “Really, Inge.”

His sister chuckled and blew a kiss into the phone. “Hush up and go make passionate love to your woman. I’m ready to be an aunt, bror. Get to it!”

And with that, the little hellion hung up the phone. Sometimes Gunnar wondered if Inge knew he were the older of the two…and then he remembered Inge didn’t give a flying darn. She was a bossy little thing, knew what she wanted and made sure she got it, which was why she headed a successful talent agency with the love of her life.

But when Inge was right, she was right.

“I’m leaving,” Gunnar announced to a Damon who’d been leaning on the back two legs of the chair.

“Now? Ain’t this a bit early for you?”

It was Friday, the day before Valentine’s Day, in fact, and the sun had just set. To be fair, Damon had a point. He was usually the last to leave, especially with the plans to open a new GD Gym and Fitness in Chapel Hill in full bore. The only times he saw Tyler were when she stopped by the gym for a quick visit, and usually with Wendy and Damon, Jr., who was now three and a half months.

Gunnar hung his head. He’d not been the world’s most attentive fiancée these last few weeks, letting the excitement over the new baby disguise the fact he hadn’t been as available as he should’ve been.

I don’t even have a gift!

Damon’s eyes widened just as Gunnar’s did. “Oooh, you in trrooouubbllee!”

“Shut up!” Gunnar groused, gathering his items so he could go directly to the mall.

“I’m taking my wife to the Sheraton in Raleigh so we can have a romantic Valentine’s Day without Junior…I knew there was something off when Wen said Ty would help Carmen watch the baby for us…”

Gunnar had thought it was impossible for him to feel like a bigger idiot, but he’d been so wrong. Hell, he’d just called Inge and she was in Australia for her romantic Valentine’s Day getaway!

“For what it’s worth, Tyler doesn’t strike me as the type to want a big production,” Damon mused.

Gunnar paused his frantic motion. That was true. Last year he’d given her a box of Girl Scout cookies and she’d acted like he’d given her the world’s biggest diamond.

“That’s not the point,” Gunnar said, resuming his packing of his messenger bag.

“At least you know that,” Damon said.

“What am I gonna do? Super Bowl’s over. March Madness hadn’t started…”

“If you have a tape of last year’s Super Bowl that might help,” Damon said with a little grin.

Gunnar chuckled. Last year Tyler’s favorite team had won it all. This year, they’d been one and done in the postseason. He’d had enough foresight to sit with her through that tragic evening at least.

“She deserves more than that,” Gunnar said.

“Again, you are absolutely right. Good luck trying to prove that to her in the eleventh hour!”

Resisting the urge to stick out his tongue, Gunnar hopped into his Jeep and went to the mall. He’d never seen so many men there in his life, and all of them were running in and out of frou-frou stores trying to find that perfect last-minute gift. However after an hour of looking himself, nothing jumped out at him…nothing shouted, “Tyler”, so he left. He didn’t know exactly where he was going when he got into his Jeep and pulled out of the parking lot, so he was slightly surprised when he ended up in Tyler’s driveway. When he rang the doorbell, however, the last thing he’d expected to see was his fiancée holding a sleeping Damon, Jr. in her arms.

Tyler’s eyes widened with surprise, then her brows furrowed together as she bounced the baby to keep him lulled. “Gunnar?”

She shouldn’t be shocked he’d come to see her, and that was entirely his fault. Sighing he stepped across the threshold and kissed her forehead. “Hallo, elskling.”

Tyler leaned into his kiss, one of her hands pressed against his chest so he didn’t crush her and the baby. “Are you okay? You seem upset…”

Gunnar shook his head, letting a gentle finger trace the top of Damon, Jr.’s head. “I’ve been an awful intended.”

“What?”

He kissed her mouth gently. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry.”

“Neglecting me?” Tyler asked, confused. “You’ve been busy with the gym—”

“I should never be too busy for you, kjære,” he insisted, not moving from her lips. “You are going to be my wife. You have to be the most important person in my life, and I haven’t adjusted as well as I’d like to that fact.”

Tyler pulled back and held the baby tighter to her, looking at Gunnar sorrowfully. “I should apologize to you, too, then. I’ve been all about the baby these last few weeks, I haven’t really been home, made myself available—”

“She’s your sister, and he’s your nephew, I understand,” Gunnar said.

“But the same applies for me,” Tyler challenged, cooing a little when the baby started to fuss. He settled back down, burying his face into Tyler’s chest, and Gunnar grinned. He couldn’t blame Damon, Jr. for his new position. As if knowing where Gunnar’s mind had gone, Tyler sucked her teeth.

“He’s a baby and family!” she chastised.

“But he’s also in one of my favorite places,” Gunnar said, wagging his eyebrows.

Tyler blushed but shook her head, leaving the doorway to go back to the living room where there was a blanket spread out for Damon, Jr. Gunnar followed and watched Tyler put Damon in the baby bouncer. When she was done, he held out his arms and Tyler cuddled with him on the couch. They just watched their nephew sleep and Gunnar felt his hand slide down until it rested on Tyler’s stomach.

She chuckled slightly and looked up at him. “Gunnar…”

He shrugged and grinned also. “I can’t help it. I want several of my own.”

“Several?”

“Hmm,” he intoned, settling his mouth into the crook of her neck. She tasted so good, his favorite butterscotch candy, and he let his tongue swirl around her collarbone. He grinned against her skin.

“Thank you for my Valentine’s Day gift.”

He saw her frown, and then he saw her eyes widen. “What?!”

Chuckling, Gunnar pried his mouth away from her flesh and rifled through his messenger bag for the envelope that held the pictures. He pulled out the glossy paper, watching Tyler’s eyes widen even further.

“That’s not me…” She sighed with awe and frowned. “That can’t possibly be me…”

And yet it was. Sultry chocolate-brown eyes peeked over a smooth, dark-brown shoulder. The way she’d manipulated her body only displayed peeks of sensuous feminine curves, her natural hair pinned up in tempting disarray. All of the photos were classy, a Nubian Botticelli and Ruben in digital form, and he was just as much in awe as she was.

“My God, you are exquisite,” Gunnar whispered, not even looking at the photos anymore, but of a real, breathing Tyler sitting next to him wearing a long-sleeved gray T-shirt that had a hole in the left elbow and sweatpants that stopped right at the ankles.

“I think Inge sent us the wrong photos!” Tyler joked.

Gunnar shook his head and captured her chin in his grasp, turning her face to his. “These are of you. This is how beautiful you are. She didn’t do much. The makeup is minimal; the hairstyle you do by yourself occasionally when you step out the shower. But it’s your eyes, Tyler…I don’t know if it was because you were taking these for me or—”

“I was taking them for me,” Tyler murmured, relieving him of the pictures. “I’d mentioned I might show them to you, but Inge…she convinced me…”

“She said it was your idea—”

“Well, to do it, ultimately, yes. I approached her when we went to California for Christmas. But I’m talking about earlier than that, when we went to LA the first time…”

That was when he’d proposed to Tyler. It hadn’t mattered they’d only known each other for eight months; he knew she was supposed to be his wife much earlier than that. But they’d had some rough times, complete with her having a hospital stay because she hadn’t been eating properly and exercising too much while taking diet pills. His Tyler, his voluptuous, sexy, beautiful Tyler, had been tripping because she couldn’t believe he’d wanted her just the way she was. And he couldn’t blame her; he hadn’t been very nice to her when she’d come to the gym that first time for a personal training session. He’d taken his bad mood at the time out on her and had insulted her weight. His mother and Inge had socked him good several times when they’d found that out.

“So you decided to take these pictures to prove something?” Gunnar ultimately asked.

“Yes.” She smiled. “I think I did.”

“I’ve always known you were lovely, kjære,” Gunnar said, letting his nose drift along her temple. “Another reason why I’ve been a bad fiancée—I haven’t shown you just how beautiful you are in a long time.”

“Gunnar—”

He cut off the protest he knew was coming by kissing her. When he pulled back, Tyler’s eyes were glazed and the baby was whimpering once more. Grinning slightly, Gunnar went to Damon, Jr. and settled him down, returning to the couch to sit next to Tyler.

Damon, Jr.’s brown eyes looked at Gunnar curiously, and then the baby grinned.

“You two are conspiring against me,” Tyler complained.

Gunnar chuckled, not bothering to look at Tyler as he gave a thick finger for the child to grasp. “Why do you say that? Damon’s just bonding with his Uncle Gunnar, isn’t he?”

“No…you two are trying to convince me it’s a good idea to go half on a baby right now…”

Gunnar laughed as quietly as he could, nipping Tyler’s nose with his teeth. “Because you know you want to give me some babies. Like I don’t know you taking care of Damon isn’t practice—”

“How chauvinistic of you!” Tyler cried.

Gunnar laughed again. “You know good and well it isn’t, Tyler Marie. Whenever we went to California I was with Greta and Singe more than their parents were!”

Tyler’s mini ire softened and she rested her chin on his shoulder. “You really want these babies.”

“I love children, and I’d love them with you. I’ve never made a secret of that.”

Tyler dropped her eyes, knowing he was right. Shifting to place her cheek on his shoulder, she let her fingers trail over his and Damon’s. “A baby…”

“Yes.”

“We aren’t married.”

“Neither were Wendy and Damon when they conceived Junior here.”

Tyler was about to say something further when the front door opened. Immediately, she shot off the couch and went to the woman who was entering the home.

“Hi, Mommy, how are you?” Tyler asked, hugging the older, shorter, slimmer woman. Though in her sixties, Gunnar didn’t think his future mother-in-law looked a day over forty.

“Beuna, chica, buena,” Carmen said, kissing her daughter’s cheek. She walked further into the house and Gunnar leaned his head back against the couch. “¿Hijo, como estás?”

“I am well, mor,” Gunnar said as Carmen kissed his forehead. Carmen Colón Carver had become a second mother to him, stepping in while his own mother Tekla was in Norway. Carmen and Tekla got on very well, and sometimes Gunnar thought they were more excited about August 8^th than he and Tyler were.

“Mommy, I gave Damon a bottle and hour ago and then—”

“Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, corazón,” Carmen said, cupping her daughter’s cheek. “Spend it with your young man.”

“But—”

“Go on, you two,” Carmen said with a grin, taking her grandson from Gunnar’s arms. “It’s a day for lovers.”

Gunnar stood and saw Tyler’s indecision all on her face. He suddenly realized why she’d conveniently let Gunnar forget about the holiday. Carmen. She would be spending it alone, and after years of not having her mother close, Tyler deigned to leave her by herself.

His heart swelling further with love, Gunnar approached Tyler and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “She’ll be all right, kjære,” he whispered.

Tyler looked at him in confusion. “What?”

“Your mother…she’ll be all right.”

She looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Grinning, he kissed her softly. “Being alone. She’ll be okay, honey. Besides, she knows where to get us and Wendy and Damon should something happen with the baby.”

Pulling back slightly, Tyler looked around Gunnar to see her mother grinning at a beaming Damon. “Mommy.”

“Listen to your young man, corazón,” Carmen said. “We will be fine, won’t we, nieto?”

The baby laughed and reached out chubby hands to his grandmother’s lips.

With that, Gunnar went back over to Carmen and Damon, kissing both on the cheek before grabbing his messenger bag and the photos from the couch, then taking Tyler’s hand in his.

“We’ll be at my house,” Gunnar told his future mother-in-law.

“And we’ll be here. You two have a happy Valentine’s Day.”

“We’ll have dinner tomorrow!” Tyler said as Gunnar led her out the door.

“I better not even see you tomorrow, corazón!” Carmen said on a laugh. Gunnar guffawed, especially at Tyler’s shocked expression.

“Did my mama just—?!”

“Give us permission to give her more grandbabies? Yes, yes, she did.”

Tyler glared at him, jutting her glorious hip out and crossed her arms underneath her breasts. Grinning further, Gunnar approached her and, to her obvious amazement, lifted her off her feet and buried his face in her chest. She laughed and wrapped her arms and legs around him.

“Gunnar!”

He kissed the space over her heart and started walking them to his Jeep. “Hmm, kjære, you were saying something?”

“Put me down before you throw out your back!”

He leaned her against the Jeep and kissed her hard, grinding his hardening crotch against her. “Oh, I plan to throw it out, all right…”

Tyler laughed harder. “You are a mess!”

“A mess o’ love!” Gunnar yelled, leaning back and shaking his head like a maniac. He chuckled as Tyler pulled his head back up and kissed him again.

“I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day,” he said when they broke apart for air.

Tyler just arched an eyebrow and ground her pelvis against his. “I think you can more than make it up to me…”

And with that Gunnar immediately set her on the ground and told her to get in the vehicle...

To continue reading, please visit Savannah's Google Group!

Wisdom Teeth...

Will no longer be in my mouth, which means I need to hurry up and write this Valentine's Day Free Read or it'll stop making sense around the sixth page lol. I don't think I'm going to, but hopefully drugs will be my friend so I can finish it.

Wish me luck!

Contests and Me across the Web

First: Y'all be dears and vote for me in the Endless Romance Writing Contest held by Midnight Seductions! You can read the excerpt here and vote here. I chose a scene from The Beauty Within, but you have to read it to know which one ;).

Second: EDC Creations has listed The Beauty Within as a Literary Hallmark for 2008--Shoulders of Giants! This is fantastic news and I'm very appreciative!

Third: I've updated my NaNo 2008 to Chapter to on the Google Group. Those who've been reading--y'all are awesome and continue to surprise me and humble me with your support. Every new effort, an author wonders how it will be received, and I'm thankful that y'all are sticking with me!

Fourth: Not really on the Web, but as of late, I've gotten really nice e-mails about my work. I really, really, really appreciate them! I just do. I'm still trying to crack through, but every e-mail I get is so great and a reminder to keep on keeping on. I might not have industry love yet, but I have reader love, and in the end, that's the main thing that a writer wants. Y'all trust me to tell the story that comes, even if it's not your cup of tea upon first glance. I thank you for giving me a shot! *hugs readers* And to fellow authors (y'all know who you are) this is a community, a family. I am so grateful to y'all. Truly.

Fifth: Y'all pray, because I'm also entering other contests other than the one mentioned in #1, and I have to write synopses. *shudders* Pray I can write them and do my novels justice! Shoot, they're harder than the actual stories!

Nice (June 29, 2005)

I'm trying to find inspiration, and for me, sometimes that means reading old writings/stories/logs, etc. This one is old, two years old to be exact, written based off characters not completely of my own creation. Fan-fiction-esque as it was. Anyway, it's a bit . . . racier in terms of what I usually post on this blog, but I stumbled upon it again this weekend and I actually liked it. Shock. I did write this one, though, which is why the fact it is old is important, back when I was more shy about this type of writing than I am now (still shy, just not quite so shy). Anyway, some of you may recognize it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Happy Monday!

~~~~~~~~~~~

His hand is warm on her bare back . . . warm and large, and she smiles as she feels her skin drag across her back muscles, nestling her head in the pillow her arms hug to her face.

His lips kiss her shoulder blade—whisper-soft like a snowflake—and she purrs at the delicate action.

“What are you thinking?” he asks against her skin, that warm, large hand sliding across her back and underneath to her stomach. His fingers play with the area around her navel, dipping inside and causing her to clench her abdominal muscles. The cotton sheets slide lower down her body as she stretches out her leg, bringing her stomach more fully into his hand and touch.

She hums. “This is nice . . .”

His lips are now at the nape of her neck, using his free hand to smooth the hair away and expose her flesh to him. His tongue darts out, warm and moist, and she thinks briefly of the tropical Bahamian sun she experienced when she was 18. She loved that sun . . . wishes she had the opportunity to experience again.

“Nice?” he asks on a chuckle, the hand at her stomach sliding up to cup a bare breast. “Is that all?”

His front presses against her back, and she feels the male curves and valleys of his body. Smooth chest, shredded abs, hard penis all in concert to bring her body and mind into a new awareness of him. His thumb on her nipple also serves that purpose.

“You sound disappointed,” she says, muffling a giggle, eyes still closed as the hand now travels south to the juncture of her thighs. His fingers meet no resistance, her body growing accustomed to the pleasure his gives hers, and wanting more of it. She sighs, spreading her legs a little wider so his fingers could have better access.

“I was hoping for bloody brilliant,” he admits with a laugh, his teeth closing over the shell of her ear as his tongue soothes away her injury. She shudders at the sensation of a wet mouth on her ear and his fingers inside of her. Soon, that mouth blazes a trail to the crook of her neck, and she feels his tongue tracing . . . something . . . and she shivers again.

“How do you know ‘nice’ isn’t ‘bloody brilliant’?” she asks, peeking at him over her shoulder. “Perhaps I was only trying to be efficient . . .”

“Efficient,” he mutters in her neck before kissing it again. “There’s no need to be ‘efficient’ now . . .”

Indeed not, for they have been lazing in bed for the better part of the morning. Usually, she is up with the sun, taking a walk in the park to get her ready for the day. Now the thought of leaving the bed . . . leaving him . . . is entirely unacceptable.

He applies pressure with the hand on her stomach, and she complies, turning over so she lies on her back. He stares at her as if seeing her for the first time, and she says nothing. His eyes caress her almost as effectively as his hands do, roving over her eyes, nose, cheeks, ears and lips. They move down to her neck and he licks his lips before tasting the area where her Adam’s Apple would be if she had one. The tongue trails down to the valley of her breasts, and his nose nuzzles one nipple, then the other, before flicking the last with his tongue. She moans, spreading her legs so he could settle between them, his length hard and pulsing against her inner thigh. She winces at the feel of him because she’s still tender from their first joining—her first ever—but the wincing dims in comparison to the pleasure he has given her . . .

Those large, warm hands, drag down to her hips before cupping her bum, bringing her pelvis closer to his, making his heat touch hers and making them both groan.

“I can’t stop touching you, love,” he whispers against the underside of her breast, meeting her brown eyes with his. His teeth nip her before kissing away the injury, and her hands rake through his black hair, now spiked every which way from sleep and other activities.

“You don’t have to,” she says, the last word on a gasp as his maleness slips into her womanhood. She clamps around him immediately, loving the sensation of him filling her.

“Even if I touch you here?” he asks, letting her know where “here” was as he thrust into her.

She giggles, the sound husky, and brings his head down to hers. “Especially there . . .”

He grins and kisses her, his tongue sliding inside and mimicking the thrusts he makes into another pair of lips. She has always loved his kisses, the feel of his tongue against hers, his lips on hers, his arms holding her . . .

He shifts positions, pushing himself to the hilt inside her before getting on his knees then on his bum, the new position causing him to swell and go even deeper inside her.

“This is new,” she says, partly on a moan as her body adjusts to him.

“Just trying to keep it fresh and not-so-efficient,” he says cheekily, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before pumping his hips again.

She hugs him tightly, her lips hovering above his and one hand clutching the hair at the back of his head while the other grips the small of his back. She works her hips, trying to get the best friction or to make him go deeper or for him to stroke her just there . . ., all the while trying not to explode at the feel of his mouth and tongue now at her neck, tracing the word she finally recognizes:

Mine.

She is his—completely now—just as he is hers . . . whether he knows it or not. She kisses and bites his shoulder alternatively before clasping her to him and trembling violently as she succumbs to the bliss he gives her.

“Guh—” She doesn’t know what she wanted to say—the pleasure removing all ability to think at that moment—but it was probably his name . . . or God’s name . . . she buries her face into his shoulder.

He continues to pump and she continues to let him, for although she’s reached her peak he hasn’t, and quite honestly, she loves the feel of him inside her. His breath is now ragged and harsh in her ears, and she caresses the space behind his because she knows he’s extra sensitive there. She whispers, “come for me” against his lobe.

He grunts, hisses, and then slams into one last time before she feels jet after jet of his release hit her inner walls.

She pulls back, wiping away the moisture from his face, and her lips pull into a smile. His follow hers, and he rests his forehead against hers.

“Nice,” he says. “That was nice.” His hand sweeps against her sweat-slicked back, bringing her closer to him even as they remain intimately locked together.

She giggles and kisses him, nodding when she pulls away. “It was . . . and it is.”

It is the first of many nice moments.

Just . . . Something . . . forgive errors

Utopia

Neither had thought to bring a blanket, so the fresh-cut grass itched their skin a little bit, and random ladybugs and other insects used them as pathways, and thankfully little else. She’d had the foresight to search for anthills and dog poop, and he had smiled at her consideration for him.

After all, he was to be her pallet for that afternoon, anyway.

She was sleeping, snoring softly. Her breath was warm against his chest, tickling him slightly. Her body curved around his so completely, their legs tangled, her arms around his torso, her cheek atop his beating heart. Some of her hair had fallen out her chignon, and he brushed it behind her ear. Her hair, her skin, everything about her was soft and pliant, and when she snuggled further into him, he smiled and kissed the top of her head.

It was moments like these, contraband and dangerous, that were so precious to him, not only for their rarity, but for their substance. Now, he was just a boy and she was just a girl, his girl. There was nothing but the sun and a breeze with them, along with buzzing of flying insects or the sporadic calls of birds as they flew above. No need to keep up appearances now.

A large cloud passed overhead, darkening the shadow they were under even more. Soon they would have to make it back. It didn’t take that long for her to go to the post office, and his parents would be home soon. It wouldn’t do well if they arrived to an empty house.

“Baby,” he murmured against the top of her head. She barely stirred. “Darlin’, wake up.” He shook her shoulder gently.

She nuzzled her cheek into his chest before she opened her eyes. He tilted his head back as she rested her chin where her cheek had been. She gave him a drowsy grin.

“Mornin’.”

He chuckled low in his throat. “Afternoon.” A kiss to her forehead. “We have to go soon.”

Her face crumpled right before she placed it in the crook of his neck. “Five more minutes.”

Her lips were soft and slightly moist, and he felt his body shudder from the point of contact throughout his body. He slipped his fingers to her nape, the heavy plait she wore brushing against his knuckles.

“A lifetime,” he murmured, resting his forehead to the top of her head. “Unfortunately, that cannot start now.”

“Or this lifetime,” came her muffled response.

Sighing, he pulled her face away from his neck. His thumbs caressed the swells of her cheeks, her brown eyes sad and wistful. He hated he put this expression on her face, especially when not minutes before it was the perfect picture of peace.

“Sweetie,” he breathed, brushing his nose against hers, then tilting his head so his lips grazed hers. She clung to him and deepened the kiss, grinding her hips into his in reaction. He groaned low in his throat, knowing his body was more than ready to give her what his heart, in good conscience, could not. He would not take her innocence from her. That belonged solely to her and to her husband, and unfortunately, he could not be the latter.

They linked fingers together as they broke their kiss, and he placed their joined hands over his left breast. He looked down at their connection, she dark, he light, and he saw nothing of the ugliness and the abomination folks in their town saw.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. He ran his thumb along her knuckles and his blue eyes met her brown ones. “Absolutely beautiful.”

She smiled brightly at him. “Can we be beautiful for five more minutes?”

He didn’t answer her, instead returning to his prone position and cradling her body back atop his.

No smart man should ever be in such a hurry to leave his utopia, no matter how fleeting its time there actually was.

~~~~~~

Can be anyone, but yes, I did have a couple in mind. I hope you enjoyed it.

AJ's Serendipity 12--Finale

It's finished! :'(. I'm a little sad about it, actually, and a whole lot more relieved! I would like to thank Ms. Aliyah Burke for letting me use her character for this "fling" of a story, and I want to thank you all for sticking with me! This is it. I doubt there will be more, and there will be no Frankie or Spyros story. Sorry! That was never in the plan and it still isn't. Just AJ and his Samara. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please forgive errors. For one final time, please check out Ms. Burke's site or go to SYG to read the final chapter.

Enjoy!

~~~~~

“Samara?” he asked cautiously. What did this mean? She wasn’t dressed to go out, but given the time, it was after eleven-thirty at the very least.

Samara made to stand, and he helped her, grasping her hand gently in his. He didn’t let go once she was settled on her feet.

“I told Frankie I wasn’t feeling well,” Samara said quietly and without preamble. “It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t a complete truth, either. I needed time to think.”

AJ felt as if his lungs were in a vice, and he squeezed air out and sucked it into his body. “Okay . . .”

A deep breath. “Instead of me coming with you, why don’t you come with me . . . to meet my family?” Samara said in a rush.

Involuntarily, his hand squeezed hers in surprise. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted to meet my family . . . my parents . . .”

“What are you really asking me, Samara?”

Samara blew out a breath and glared at him. “Look, I don’t know if you know this or not, but women don’t like ultimatums, especially Black women. Shoot, we can do bad all by ourselves, and most of the time, it’s not even a choice. But you listen and listen good, Alejandro Kyriakos Melonakos. Just because I love you, don’t think your shit don’t stink, got it?”

AJ's Serendipity 11 and Chat!

Hello everyone, happy Sunday! Here is the next chapter of AJ's Serendipity for you. You can find it in the usual places, Aliyah Burke's site or SYG. Also tonight at 8 PM there will be an author chat featuring me hosted by The Sweetest Taboo. For those who are not registered at the site, the link to the chat room is here: Sav's Chat--8 PM. You will need Javascript in order to participate. I hope to see you there!

Enjoy the rest of your Sunday!

~~~~

The next morning, a knock on the door roused them. Dimitri, the earlier riser of the two, was more functional, having already showered and dressed, and he answered the door. It was a little after eight in the morning. AJ, though still suffering jetlag, seemed to lack the energy to do anything but roll over and steal more shut-eye.

Moments later, he felt the bed dip, and he was more than ready to tell Dimitri to go away when he felt gentle lips upon his cheek.

He smiled. “Frankie . . . what would your sister say?”

“Meh, I’ve had better . . .”

Amid Dimitri’s whoop of laughter, AJ flipped Samara onto her back and gave her a thorough kiss. “Better than that?”

“I think I might need another kiss in order to make a fair judgment,” Samara said, even as she brought his lips to hers. This time, AJ was gentler, savoring her taste of mint and fresh breath.

He winced in apology. “Does my breath stink terribly?” he asked, even if it seemed a little moot.

“I wouldn’t complain if you brushed your teeth,” Samara laughed. She pressed her nose against his. “Good morning, AJ.”

“Good morning, agapi mou,” he murmured, kissing her forehead quickly before leaving the bed and going to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth quickly and washed his face.

“Agapi mou, what does that mean?” AJ heard Samara ask Dimitri.

“My love,” Dimitri replied, then AJ heard him chuckle. “You’re adorable when you blush.”

“Cousin!” AJ said, coming out the bathroom and giving Dimitri a playful glare. “No flirting with my woman!”

“I’m merely stating a fact!” Dimitri said, wrapping his arm around Samara’s shoulders. “Your woman is insanely adorable, actually, whether she blushes or not!”

“Y’all need to stop,” Samara mumbled, averting her eyes and blushing furiously.

AJ sat on the edge of his bed and tugged Samara to him. He kissed the palm of her hand, his eyes locked on her visage. “You’re right, though, Dima,” AJ said, his voice full of wonder. “She is adorable, and kind, and giving, and gorgeous . . . and mine.”

AJ's Serendipity 10 and Yesterday

Hi everyone, Happy July! It's Sunday, which means there's an AJ's Serendipity update. You can go to Aliyah Burke's site and read it or SYG. I hope you enjoy and please forgive errors!


Also, yesterday I had the Harlem Book Fair at Roxbury Community College. I really enjoyed myself, and yay for my sister being so nice and great to be my partner for all six hours. It was also great to meet folks from the SYG (hi, Sharon-divisionred!) and meet other local authors in Boston. I sat next to a woman who wrote poetry, and it's fantastic, so I encourage you to check out Tichaona Chinyelu. Also, I was on a panel about self-publishing, and I learned as much as I hopefully informed. What I've learned most about it, is I have to be less shy and more assertive, or at least I'm learning to do that. Even at the book fair, when people walk by and pass my sis kept telling me I had to speak up. If I don't believe I have a good and worthwhile product, why would anyone else? I'm a work in progress, I admit--not just in terms of my writing, but in everything, but that's another topic :-P. All in all, I'm glad I had the opportunity to be part of the Fair.

And, now, the excerpt! :)

~~~~

“Ready?” Dimitri asked, clipping his pager and mobile to his belt. He shoved his wallet in the pocket of his khakis. His black Polo shirt accentuated his fitness despite Dimitri’s casual look. The Melonakos men were broad by nature, but Dimitri’s Navy training had defined his more.

“I look all right?” AJ asked.

Dimitri quirked his lips. “What, you turned into a woman after using the bathroom? Now I know to avoid it!”

AJ growled at him and would have huffed if he hadn’t caught himself. “I’m serious!”

Dimitri smiled and nodded, as if seeming to understand his opinion was important to AJ’s peace of mind. “You look almost as good as I do, cousin.”

AJ smiled as well, and clapped Dimitri’s shoulder as they left the room. “You’ll love her, Dima.”

“Sorry, I’m already taken.”

AJ's Serendipity 9

Update! Go to Aliyah's site or to SYG to read the entire chapter. Have a great Sunday!

~~~

“What are you reading, handsome?”

AJ looked up to see a stunning redhead with smooth, alabaster skin; bright, blue eyes; and perfectly bee-stung pink lips grinning at him. There was a dusting of freckles on her bare shoulders that added to her attractiveness. Her hair was a heavy, wavy curtain draped over one shoulder, clearly meant to entice. If there was no Samara, he would’ve been.

Returning her smile, AJ showed her the cover of the book, and she appeared to nod in approval. “Do you like it so far?”

“I’ve not been displeased.”

The redhead’s smile widened and she held out a hand. “Noelle.”

AJ used the index finger of his left hand as a bookmark and shook Noelle’s hand with his right. “AJ.”

“A strong grip,” Noelle said, her blue eyes looking at their joined hands briefly before meeting his gaze again. “Nice.”

AJ smiled again and eased his hand from hers. “Thanks.”

It was odd not to have the desire to flirt. He felt decidedly out of his element. Flirting had been as second nature as breathing to him before he had met Samara. Now, all he wanted to be was left alone with the book Samara had insisted he read. He knew the woman was interested in him, but AJ didn’t know how to tell her he wasn’t—he’d never had to do such a thing before.

“Leaving or going?” Noelle asked.

He blinked at the text in confusion before turning his green eyes to her. “Sorry?”

“Home. Leaving or going? Although I hear a faint accent, so I’m assuming leaving . . .”

He smiled genuinely as an image of Samara appeared in his mind. “Going. Definitely going.”

AJ's Serendipity 8

Here is an update. You can either go to Aliyah's site or my group. The excerpt is below, and Happy Father's Day!

Sav

~~~~

Samara took a deep breath, and then buried her face in his chest. AJ held her fast to him, his face concealed by the top of her head. He loved her. He loved this woman. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew she loved him in return. It wasn’t right they had to be separated like this.

“I’ll be here in the morning,” he vowed. “Don’t worry about the taxi; I’ll get it for you. Four-thirty.”

“Thank you,” Samara said. “But you don’t have to, though—”

“I do,” AJ murmured, kissing her temple. “You know I do. We’ll exchange information then.”

She nodded and pulled back, sliding trembling fingers to his cheeks. They then went across his lips and his nose, and his eyelids fluttered shut.

“Wow, I’m going to miss you,” she sighed.

“Not for long,” AJ said, lifting up his mouth to kiss her palm. “We won’t be separated for long.”

Her eyes held her skepticism, but she mercifully kept her mouth closed. AJ bent his head and kissed her softly. “Sweet dreams, Samara. See you in a few hours.”

Both he and Spyros were solemn and quiet on their way to their flat building. When they reached their individual doors, AJ decided to break the silence.

“Are you coming with me tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” Spyros said. “I’d like to say goodbye.”

AJ nodded once. “Then I suggest we’d get some sleep then.”

But sleep didn’t come, at least not for AJ. As soon as he entered his flat, he placed a call to a local taxi service and requested a pick up at four in the morning in front of the flat building. Afterwards, he undressed and climbed into bed, but he was too wired to rest. His mind kept thinking of things he wanted to do, of the life he had begun to plan with Samara since seeing her in the market. Five days? Five days might as well be five minutes as far as AJ was concerned. It wasn’t long enough, yet he shouldn’t be ungrateful for God’s gift. That was what Samara was, a gift. His and his alone. How could he in good conscience let her get on that plane to be flown out of his life for who knew how long? But he would, because it was to be.

For now.

AJ's Serendipity 7 and Tags

Hi everyone! Happy Sunday! Here is part 7 to AJ's Serendipity. Go visit Aliyah Burke's new site and blog! It's beautiful.

Also, I guess to "celebrate" her new site, she tagged me. Pft. Lucky I like her so . . .

Here are the rules:
1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2.People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

Here are my eight random facts. Enjoy!

1) I play(ed) the viola from elementary school to high school, and some in college, and after graduation (as in the day of) I was on a bus to play at Carnegie Hall with the school district orchestra.
2) I can be heard singing background on Kate Schutt's track Peter Please on her Heart-Shot CD.
3) I don't really like chocolate unless it's wrapped around peanut butter, although I do love hot chocolate.
4) I used to write fan fiction.
5) My favorite Harry Potter character is Severus Snape, followed closely by Albus Dumbledore, and my least favorite character is Harry Potter. Go fig.
6) I am shy.
7) I got into every college to which I applied (5).
8) I multitask because I cannot focus too long on one thing, and if I do, it's an accident :-P

I don't think I know 8 people to tag who haven't already been, so if you want to do this, then feel free.

Anyway, here's an excerpt to Part 7:

She was nude.

There were no straps on her shoulders, and he knew for a fact the swimsuit she’d been wearing had straps. Also, given the way her cheeks were more red than caramel, it seemed she realized he figured out what her current state was.

“Samara?” he asked, confused and a little humbled. “Why?”

She shrugged and took a deep breath, licking her lips. “You asked me to trust you. I said I did, but . . . I haven’t been proving that very well. You also said you wouldn’t hurt me, and I do believe that, too. So . . . I’m doing the final thing you wanted me to do—be myself. This is she, all one hundred eighty pounds of her. I don’t think I’m ever going to get smaller, but I will probably get larger, so I reckon this is the best I’m ever gonna look—”

His mouth cut off the rest of the garbage coming from her mouth, him finally crossing the final distance between them to do so. He gathered her body to him, felt it tremble so violently that he broke the kiss and tucked her face into his neck.

“Shh, my love,” he murmured into her wet hair. He caressed her bare back gently. “It’s okay. Relax. Just feel me. Get used to my body.”

She was so soft and pliant. He loved the armful she made, how every one of her curves fit into his hard body. He swam them over to the ladder and set her on a rung, but still kept her close. Her breasts were mashed into his chest, her nipples hard. Soft, womanly. How could she think he wouldn’t it find it glorious?