LLLB Sneak Peek - Hollywood Deception by Shelia M Goss

Join Live, Love, Laugh and Books as we welcome our very own author, Shelia Goss.

Date: Thursday, April 22nd
Time: 8:00pm until 9:00pm EST
Where: http://sheliagoss.com/chat/shelia-goss-chat

We'll be chatting with Shelia about her new book - Hollywood Deception.



Hollywood Deception by Shelia M Goss Excerpt

Modesty and simplicity were rarely used to describe Hailey Barnes. Why should they be? Life wasn’t always easy for her. She worked hard to get to this point in her career. She was blessed with natural good looks, thanks to the genes of both of her African-American parents. Many assumed she inherited her height from her father, but to the contrary. Her mother was tall, and most of the men and women on her mother’s side were five-ten or taller.

Hailey glared at the picture left on her dressing- room chair. Shock registered immediately when she opened up the brown envelope and saw her eyes cut out. The words I hate you were written in red. She threw the picture and envelope in the trash. As a former model, she was used to receiving hate mail. Many would be surprised at the amount of people who sent her hate mail simply for the color of her skin. She learned early on how to protect herself from the pain. While growing up in a suburban town, right outside of Dallas, she learned from her mom not to allow the opinions of others to dictate how she felt about herself. Her survival tactics kicked into high gear and she decided to ignore the picture— although her instincts told her this one was different than the others.

She blinked a few times, as if it would erase the memory of the picture. She looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time before leaving her dressing room.

“We’re on, in one-two-three, you’re on,” John Woods, the executive producer, stated in Hailey’s earpiece. The Hailey Barnes Show was the number- three talk show in her market. She was vying for the number-two spot because O had number one on lock.

Hailey flashed her Colgate smile, and with a walk reminiscent of her time as a model on the runway in Paris, she walked out on the stage to an audience that gave her a standing ovation fit for a queen. She enjoyed the reaction and soaked in the energy. She fed on the excitement, and as she walked to take her seat, her long auburn tresses bounced and glistened on the screen.

“Today’s ‘Freedom Friday’ and, as you know, it’s . . .” Hailey stopped speaking and looked at the audience.

The audience yelled, “Fan mail time.”

“Let’s see what you the viewers have to say this week. I want to remind everyone that neither I nor my producers know what’s in your letters. I read them live on the air and ad-lib my responses.”

She picked out a few letters, read them, looked into the camera as she responded. The in-studio audience laughed or aahed at some of the responses. She repeated this process for the first ten minutes of the show. Hailey held the last letter in her hand, and viewers had to look close, but the gleam in her eye had disappeared for a split second.

“We have some bills to pay and we’ll be right back,” she said as she dropped the letter back in the bag as if it were hot coal. She ignored her studio audience and ran off the stage.

John rushed behind her. “Hailey, have you lost your mind? What’s gotten into you?”

She snatched the letter out of the bag and threw it on the counter near John. “Look at this! This is the third letter from this creep. I need someone to find out who it is, and now.”

John picked up the letter and read it. “I need for you to get your behind back on stage. We’ll deal with this after the taping.”

“But, John,” she said, batting her long black eyelashes.

John was one of the few people who could handle Hailey—especially when she was in diva mode. John ignored her rant and pushed her back toward the stage. Her makeup artist met them at the entryway and blotted out the sweat that had formed on her forehead. An intern handed her a bottle of water. She took a quick sip, passed it back to the intern and walked back on stage right before the end of the last commercial aired.

Hailey inhaled and exhaled a few times, and as John spoke in her earpiece, she mentally prepared for the next segment of her show. “Now I’m taking it to the audience. Talk to Hailey. What’s on your mind?” she asked as different audience members took turns on the microphone. On “Freedom Fridays” Hailey was known to pick audience members to come on stage to be her special guests. She called it her way of giving back to her viewers.

“My boyfriend says he loves me, but he’s always talking about his ex-girlfriend. Should I believe him?” asked a slender brown-skinned woman wearing braids that hung to her shoulders.

Hailey moved in her seat and looked directly in the woman’s eyes. “He has some unresolved issues with his ex. I wouldn’t get emotionally involved with him.”

“Too late,” the audience member responded.

“Let Hailey talk to you for a minute. You don’t mind, do you, audience?” Hailey said.

They responded, “No.”

“This is from one sister to another. Don’t settle for being second best. If you can’t be number one in his heart. Correction, if you can’t be the only one in his heart, you need to bounce.”

“B-but . . . ,” she stuttered. “I love him.”

“To quote Tina, ‘What’s love got to do with it?’

It’s up to you, but don’t be nobody’s fool,” Hailey stated.

The woman went and sat back down in her seat. The camera focused on her for a few seconds before turning to look at the next audience member at the microphone. John’s voice came across the earpiece. “Wrap it up.”

Hailey addressed the audience member’s issue within a few minutes and then ended the show. “Thank you all for tuning in to The Hailey Barnes Show. We’ll be back on Monday. We’ll be talking to members of the paparazzi. This should be interesting. Until Monday, have a fun and safe weekend. Remember, don’t nobody love you like you love yourself. Treat yourself to something nice this weekend.”

Hailey removed the microphone. She walked into the audience to shake hands and give autographs. Hailey noticed the young lady with the braids crying. She hugged her. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t let him bring you down.”

The lady responded, “Thanks for the advice.”

Hailey left to go backstage to the cheers of “Hailey! Hailey!”

John met her at the entranceway. “Follow me to my office.”

“This has been a long day,” Hailey whined.

“It’s about to get longer. I don’t like the sounds of this letter.”

“Handle it. I have a hair appointment.”

“Cancel it. We have a meeting with the head of security, and this is more important,”

John said.

“John, I trust you to handle it for me.”

“Hailey, you need to get your priorities straight,” he responded.

“I do, and when I look good, the show looks good. Besides, it’s time for a touch-up,” she said as she pulled on her wig. “I know it’s hard to tell under this wig, but, trust me, it’s time.”

John shook his head from side to side. He knew better than to argue with her. “Be careful,” he said.

“It’s probably nothing. You know how I can overreact.”

“You’re right. We’ll just beef up security, and all will be fine.”

Hailey pulled John into a quick hug. “Have a good weekend.” Hailey went in the opposite direction of John’s office. The only thing she wanted to do was relax. She was confident that John could handle an irate fan.

To order online, go to: http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/finditem.cfm?itemid=16459

LLLB Sneak Peek - Key to My Heart by Victoria Wells

Join Live, Love, Laugh and Books as we welcome our very own author, Victoria Wells for our March chat.

Date: Thursday, March 25, 2010

Time: 8:00pm until 9:00pm EST

Where: http://sheliagoss.com/chat/victoria-wells-chat/

Key to My Heart by Victoria Wells Excerpt

Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, Ava struggled to wake from the endlessly taunting nightmare. Her restless body stirred and twisted, wrestling to keep the painful memories at bay.

The wailing cry of the healthy newborn pierced her trembling heart. What had she done? The question ricocheted throughout the corners of her mind as weary eyes followed the nurse who quickly wrapped the squirming babe and left the delivery room.

Noooo! Please, come back! I changed my mind! I want my baby! I want my baby!

Ava bolted from the nightmare. Her nightgown was drenched in sweat, making the thin cotton fabric stick to her skin. Taking in deep gulps of air, she covered her face with her hands. Tears fell from her eyes, cascading down her cheeks despite her tightly shut lids.

The nightmare always ended this way. It always ended with her screaming for her baby. Unfortunately for Ava, this nightmare was all too real.

On the day Ava gave her baby up for adoption, she pleaded with the doctor and nurses to see her baby. They refused. Without an ounce of compassion, she was told it would be for the best that she didn’t bond with her baby. When she tearfully begged to at least be told the sex of her child, each of the healthcare workers remained silent as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

So what if she’d foolishly made the decision to put her child up for adoption. Did that mean she didn’t have the right to know if she gave birth to a girl or boy? What gave them the right to withhold this information?

Finally one of the nurses, who couldn’t ignore Ava’s anguish, gently whispered to her, “You had a little girl. She weighed six pounds, five ounces.”

After Ava was settled in a room on the maternity unit, desperate to get a glimpse of her daughter, she shuffled down the hall to the nursery. She didn’t know which pain was more devastating—the aches in her freshly post partum body, or the shredding of her heart into a million tiny pieces.

Tears followed the thick lump that formed in her throat as she realized none of the babies behind the glass sleeping so peacefully belonged to her. Three of them were baby boys, snuggly wrapped in blue blankets. The last one—baby girl Wu—contentedly suckled a pacifier in her sleep.

Reliving that gut wrenching afternoon exhausted Ava. She felt as if she hadn’t slept at all. Wiping tears from her face with the palm of her hand, she placed unsteady feet on the floor.

After stripping off the damp nightgown, she padded over to the bureau on the other side of the room. Opening the third drawer, she pulled out a yellow nightshirt and covered her nude body. Before closing the drawer, her hand blindly searched in the dark for her most precious possessions.

Taking slow, measured steps, her hand trembled as she hit the light switch on the wall. Holding on to her possessions with one hand, Ava used the other to shield her eyes for the few seconds it took them to adjust to the blinding light.

Moving back over to the bed, Ava slowly sat on the edge. Ever so carefully, she opened the first Ziploc bag, removing its content. Ava brought the tiny undershirt to her nose. If she inhaled deeply, real deeply, she could still smell the scent of her precious baby. Holding the soft fabric to her face, she said a prayer for the woman who had showed her some mercy.

“Please, Ms. Peretti, I’m begging you not to tell anyone I’ve done this. You understand I could lose my job?”

Ava numbly nodded her head. The hurt she was feeling was so deep her tongue had become paralyzed. This was all too much for her to take in. How could he do this to me?

The middle-aged nurse hesitated, looking over her shoulder and double checking that the door was firmly closed. Bringing her hand from behind her back, Ava noticed the two small, clear, plastic Ziploc bags she held. Coming closer, the nurse kept her voice soft and gentle. “I just felt so bad for you. After your baby was cleaned up and dressed, I went back to the nursery and took off her undershirt.”

Gingerly sitting next to Ava on the hospital bed, she continued. “And I clipped a lock of her hair for you.” Sadly smiling at Ava, the kind, older woman placed the baggies in Ava’s trembling hands. “Your baby has a beautiful head of thick, dark hair.”

The kind woman didn’t mean any harm, but hearing her refer to the infant as “your baby” further crushed Ava’s heart and spirit. She just wanted to die. The sob she released sounded like that of a wounded animal caught in a steel trap. Nothing could compare to this hurt, not even Langston’s betrayal.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Ava tenderly folded the tiny undershirt before laying it on her lap. Ever so carefully, she opened the other clear bag and removed the lock of hair, gently twirling the delicate strands between her fingers.

As she made the only connection she had with her daughter, Ava’s chest tightened to the point where breathing was almost difficult. She wanted her baby back. She had an innate feeling that her baby needed her.

To purchase a copy, visit Victoria Wells website: http://www.victoria-wells.com/

LLLB Sneak Peek - What Mother Never Told Me by Donna Hill

Join Live, Love, Laugh and Books as we welcome Brenda Jackson to our February Chat.

Date: Thursday, February 25, 2010
Time: 8:00pm until 9:00pm EST
Where: http://chat.parachat.com/chat/login.html?room=LiveLoveLaughandBooks&width=600&height=400&bg=FFFFFF&lang=en

What Mother Never Told Me by Donna Hill Excerpt

Her dead mother was alive.

Yet, days after learning the unthinkable, Parris McKay was still unable to reconcile the truth with the lie she'd been nursed and nurtured on for three decades. The enormity of it echoed throughout the cool stillness of the one-room church.

Her emotions shifted between disbelief and anger, anguish and shock, to despair and back again. So she'd come here to the one place where she'd always found answers, balance and a quieting of her spirit.

But even here, the solace she sought was unattainable, a vapor that could be seen but not touched. The letter she held between her slender fingers was yellowed with age and had been freed with the others from their hiding place behind her Nana's stove, its wizened face crisscrossed by the fine lines of an unfamiliar hand, cracked under the onslaught of air and light.

Parris held the letter like one unfamiliar with a newborn—cautious, fearful, yet in awe of its mysteries. There were answers here, etched between the lines that she struggled to see. She knew it, could feel it. She knew if she just looked hard enough she would know why.

The words, though not addressed to her, connected her to the woman she'd only imagined. The woman that was buried on European shores after giving birth to her—or so she'd been told. Told so many times that she believed it, became part of the lie. She believed her Nana when she sat her down on her knee, looked her deep in the eyes and said, "Your mama loved you so much, gal, wanted you to have a little piece of somethin' so bad that she begged those fancy doctors to save her baby no matter what. Yessir, that's what she done for ya, 'cause she loved ya. Even fo' you got here."

Imagine being loved like that, so hard and so strong even before you took your first breath. The thought of it filled all the empty spaces that the void of not having her mother left in her life.

And that's the lie she told her friends when they asked where her mother was and why she lived with her grandmother. She told her truth. The only one she knew. Now what she knew was no more. The ache of it settled in her bones, squeezed her heart and stripped her throat raw.

What was she to do?

She bowed her head as the long shadow of the cross fell across her lap, deepened as the sun shifted and prepared to settle down for the night. She'd lost track of how long she'd sat on the worn wooden pew, its hardness softened and curved by hips and thighs that heaved, sighed and caressed it throughout the years.

Her green eyes, butterfly quick, flitted from one space to the next as a montage of images gathered around her. How many times had she walked the aisle as a child, a teen, a woman? How many sermons had she heard, christenings and marriages had she attended? How many songs had she sung in the choir? How many times had she looked out on the congregation to see her Nana Cora and Grandpa David watching her with pride? So many.

But how could any of this—all the things that she knew—be concrete when she was no more than an illusion? And if she was no longer real then nothing in her life could be, either. With familiarity now a stranger, she had no choice but to create a new reality. And if not here, then where?

She'd come back, back to her home of Rudell, Mississippi, to be witness to her grandmother Cora's transition. The woman who raised her, loved her, taught her right from wrong, gave her the gift of music…lied to her. Lied. The word burned in her throat, stirring and simmering into something bigger than herself, erupting into an emotion that was so unfamiliar—rage. Parris raged at Cora, raged at her for keeping the secret and nearly taking it with her to her grave.

Cora confessed on her waning breath that Emma, her mother, was alive, was living in Europe, that she'd turned her infant daughter over to Cora only days after her birth and never returned. The only connection Cora had with her daughter through the years was the intermittent letters that filled the tin box behind the stove.

Cora turned the letters over to Parris in the final hours before her passing. They revealed so much and nothing at all. Handwriting style, frequency, location, inquiries about the child she'd abandoned. Yet none of the letters collected for almost thirty years explained why.

Why was Parris unworthy of her mother's love? Why did Emma give her away and never come back? Why was Parris told that her mother was dead? And why did the woman whom she'd idolized all her life keep the answers and take them with her?

Parris jerked around, startled by the noise behind her. Her gaze settled—along with her heartbeat—when she saw her grandfather crossing the threshold. She brushed the tears from her eyes only for them to be followed by more.

David swept his hat from his head and walked reverently down the aisle. She made room for him next to her.

"Been wondering where you been for so long," he said in that cottony comfort voice that had cocooned her to sleep on many an occasion.

Parris sighed and rested her head on his shoulder of welcome. Her granddad had been the only doctor in Rudell for decades. It wasn't until about five years ago that another doctor set out her shingle. But it had taken many a dinner conversation, trips to the Left Hand River and loud debates in front of the general store for the townspeople of Rudell to come to terms with a new doctor—especially a woman. Things may have changed in the rest of the world but Rudell, Mississippi, was no different than it had been in the early 1900s, when her great grandfather Joshua Harvey was the preacher at this very church.

"Nana wanted me to go find my mother."

She could feel David's head bob up and down. "And what do you plan to do?"

"It's what I've been sitting here thinking about." She angled her head to take in his strong profile. "I don't want to leave you, Granddad. What are you going to do out here…alone?"

He lifted his square chin just a notch. Not enough for someone who didn't know him to even notice. But Parris knew her grandfather. That tiny tic meant he'd made up his mind and no amount of persuasion was going to change it.

"I'll be just fine. This is my home. I stay here…and I can stay close to Cora." His full lips pinched. "That young man of yours is up at the house, packin' looks like."

The dry muscles of her throat that were struggling for moisture tightened even more.

"Can't sit here crying forever. Not what Cora would have wanted. She'd want you to get on with your life."

"What life!" Her voice splintered the quiet of the church, cracking under the pressure of a question she couldn't answer. She turned swollen, tear-filled eyes on him.

"The life you had, the life you gonna make. You have everything you need. It's up to you to decide what you gon' do with it." He paused a beat. "I been listenin' to you since you been back, humming a little, singing a bit. God and your grandma gave you a gift—the voice of an angel. Now you kin head on back to New York. Ain't nobody gonna fault you none. But when you stand up and sing in front of folks, those notes won't ring true. Every one of them is gonna have an empty hole in it." He rubbed his jaw with a large, dark hand that had the power to heal. "Or you can go find your mama. Hear her tell you what you need to hear. When you do that the hole in those notes and that space in your heart will be filled."

He kissed the top of her head. "Up to you. Whatever you decide you best hurry 'fore that boy leaves without a goodbye." He pushed up from his seat, wincing a little from the nag in his right hip. He made a mental note to ask Cora to rub some liniment on it. He squeezed his hat. The tiniest groan of pain pushed up from his gut, sputtered across his lips. He remembered. His Cora was gone. He blinked away the burn in his eyes with each step he took toward the door. Nearly half a century of loving one woman. He had no idea how he was going to make it. No idea at all.

Parris heard the church door squeak shut. Her slender body shuddered as a wave of sorrow rolled through her. Granddad was right. She couldn't sit there forever. She needed to talk with Nick. Figure something out—about everything, including them.

She gathered the lightweight baby blue shawl that she'd brought along with her, gently folded the letter and put it in her shirt pocket. She took one last look around and walked out.

The sun was easing down behind the hilltops, playing hide-and-seek between the branches and leaves of the towering coves of trees that led to the Left Hand River and separated them from the white part of town. The air was filled with the fresh scents of rich earth, ripe grass, farm animals and simplicity.

That's what she drew into her lungs—simplicity. The slow, easy pace of country living. She'd been home for just about a month and she had yet to see one person hurrying anywhere. There wasn't an abundance of cars. The town was so small, folks walked mostly everywhere. And if they did have a ways to go they hitched a ride.

Gentrification hadn't touched Rudell. Somehow the townspeople were able to maintain their way of life without the onslaught of yuppies, buppies, condos, superstores and coffee giants squeezing the spirit out of them.

She walked up the path that led to her grandparents' home, a neat two-story structure, one of only a half dozen like it in town. Today was the first day that the front door wasn't swinging open and closed from the trainload of grievers that had click-clacked through the house for three days. She'd swear that all five hundred residents of Rudell must have come to pay their respects to her grandmother, and they dropped off a bounty of food, including whole fried chickens, seasoned collards, peas and rice, mac and cheese, fruit salads and peanuts. Granddad would have enough food for the next two months. And from the gleam in some of the widows' eyes and the extra smiles on their red lips, he'd have company, too.

A light went on in the window of the second floor, catching her eye. She watched the silhouette of her grandfather as he slowly sat down on the side of the bed and buried his head in his hands.

Parris shut her eyes for a moment and sent up a silent prayer to ease his heart. When she opened the front door, Nick was at the kitchen table. His suitcase, like a faithful pup, sat at his feet. A medley of mouthwatering aromas harmonized in a "come sit down" tune and her stomach called back in response.

"Hi." The faint greeting hung in the food-scented air.

"Thought I was going to miss you." He pushed back from the table, the old wooden legs of the chair tap-dancing across the highs and lows of the aging linoleum.

"I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye."

His jaw tightened as he nodded.

"What time is your bus?"

"Six. David…your grandfather said he would drive me to the station."

Uncertainty made them sudden strangers. Instead of reaching for each other they sought the support of chair backs and table edges.

Parris squeezed and twisted the shawl between her fingers. "I can take you."

"Are you sure?"

"I want to."

Nick pushed his hands deep into his pockets to keep from reaching for her, to appear as casual and unaffected as she. He shrugged his left shoulder. "Cool. Ready when you are."

She tried to meet his eyes but the questions that hung there turned her away. "I'll let Granddad know." She hurried toward the stairs and went up.

The door at the end of the hall was closed, but couldn't contain the light within—a sliver snuck out from the bottom and bathed the floor with a path of illumination that beckoned her. She knocked lightly on the door, listened to the rustle of movement and the creek of the four-poster bed.

A half smile greeted her. "Was just resting a bit before I took your young man to the bus depot."

"That's what I came to tell you. I'm going to take him."

The smile came full. He dug in his pocket and took out the car keys. "Drive slow." He handed her the keys.

Parris grinned. "Is there any other way to drive in Rudell?" She leaned up and kissed his gray-stubbled cheek. "See you soon."

"I'll leave a plate out for you."

"Thanks," she said over her shoulder. When she returned to the kitchen, Nick had already taken his bag and was sitting on the steps outside. She pressed her fingertips to her stomach to settle the butterflies that had broken loose. "Ready?"

He angled his head toward her then stood, the long lean lines of his body unfolding like the break of dawn—it was pure majesty.

"Sure." He trotted down the four steps ahead of her and strolled toward the old Ford parked at the end of the path.

As Parris descended the stairs she couldn't believe that she was actually letting him go back to New York without her. Initially, before the full ramifications of her discovery hit her, she'd told Nick that she wanted him to meet her mother. The raw excitement of finding out that her mother was indeed alive overshadowed the questions that began as a light summer shower before intensifying to an unstoppable hurricane, ruining everything in its path. She was battered by the unrelenting winds and rains of confusion, weakened and shocked by the power of deceit, leaving her with only remnants of what she'd been able to salvage. She wasn't the woman he'd met so many months ago when she shyly approached him for a singing gig at his nightclub. She wasn't the woman who captured an audience and held them in her palm like the last strains of a Billie Holiday ballad. She wasn't the woman who walked out on her boss/lover, lost her job and her apartment.

She was someone else now and until she discovered who that someone was, she couldn't be part of anyone's life.

To order online, go to: http://www.eharlequin.com/storeitem.html?iid=21132

LLLB Sneak Peek - Chocolate Goodies by Jacquelin Thomas

Chocolate Goodies by Jacquelin Thomas Excerpt

"Michael, all that hip-hop music doesn't bother you?" twenty-nine year old Constance Stanley asked her brother as they finished packing up a box of chocolates shaped like the Easter Bunny. She was going to drop it off to a preschool down the street from her house later that evening.

The school was having its annual Easter celebration on Friday. Stanley Chocolates donated a box to them every year.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, all I ever see coming out of D-Unit is a bunch of thugs," she complained. "Why didn't the owner just open a music store on Crenshaw or in Compton—anywhere but here in Brentwood?"

"Coco, you worry too much," Michael responded. "There's been no trouble since the store opened, and none of the other tenants are complaining. Have you even gone over there to meet the owner?" Her brother managed their family-owned chocolate factory, Stanley Chocolates, which was next door to her shop.

"No. I'm not sure I want to meet him, either," she huffed. He's probably a thug as well, she thought, but didn't say it.

"I think you'd feel better if you do," Michael said as he followed her out to her car. "Instead of making all these snap judgments. C'mon, I'll walk over there with you."

Coco unlocked her door and then shielded her eyes from the bright morning sun. It was a beautiful day in April. Much too pretty to be working inside, but life didn't stop for perfect spring days.

"I don't know…maybe later this afternoon," she told him. "That way I can tell him to turn down his music. We definitely don't need him or her scaring away our customers."

Michael laughed. "The music is not that loud, Coco. You can't even understand the lyrics. As for ruining business, I don't think you have to worry about that. You know the saying, 'chocolate is a girl's best friend.'"

"Speaking of chocolate," Coco began, "I have this idea for a new product for my shop. What do you think of combining cardamom, citrus and organic walnuts with Venezuelan dark chocolate?"

"Sounds delicious," he murmured. "Is this something you want me to experiment with?"

"Actually, I think I'm going to play around with it myself," Coco said with a quick shake of her head. "You have enough to do with that big order that just came in for the Randolph Hotel."

It's not like I have much of a social life these days.

Coco checked her watch. "I need to get out of here. It's almost time for me to open."

Michael gave her a hug. "See you later, sis."

She left the plant and walked next door.

Shortly after Coco opened the doors, her first customer strolled inside.

"Good morning, Stella," she said with a smile.

"Hey, girl," she responded. "Coco, I need half a pound of almond butter crunch."

She quickly packaged the order and handed it to her customer. "It's going to be twenty dollars even."

"Thank you," Stella said. "I just broke up with my boyfriend so I'm curling up tonight when I get home, with a good book and this bag of chocolates. They always make me feel better."

Coco nodded in understanding. There had been many nights when she'd bonded with a bag of chocolate-covered peanuts and a book or a feel-good movie.

Like her brother said, chocolate was a girl's best friend. It was this guilty pleasure that kept her family in business. She had skillfully turned Coco's Chocolate Bar into a very successful venture.

Constance, who preferred to be called by her nickname, Coco, descended from a long line of chocolatiers dating all the way back to the early nineteen hundreds. Her great-great-grandparents had made chocolate and sold it to the local markets. When Coco graduated from college, she'd opted to open a gourmet chocolate shop featuring exotic spices and flavors and make all the chocolate, too, instead of following the family tradition of only making chocolates and distributing them to other stores. Coco had always wanted to open her own specialty shop; it had been a lifelong dream as long as she could remember.

Coco's Chocolate Bar carried exotic chocolates like ones made of sea salt and roasted almonds, pralines and peanuts from Marcona, Spain. Dark chocolates rich with the zip of New Orleans–style chicory coffee and cocoa nibs.

Based in the Brentwood area of Los Angeles, Coco's featured a warm and cozy sitting area, adorned with a beautiful marble bar with mint-green leather chairs for customers to gather and enjoy a taste of her unique chocolates, all of which were produced in the huge plant next door. She also carried her family's line of chocolates.

A young woman strolled into the shop, propelling Coco out of her musings. "Hey you," she said. "Elle, what are you doing here?"

The woman smiled. "I was in the area, so I thought I'd come by and pick up some white-chocolate-covered pralines for Mama. You know how much she loves them."

Coco scooped up the treats into a shiny silver bag. "How is Aunt Amanda doing, Elle? I haven't seen her in months." She tied a mint-green ribbon with brown polka dots around the bag, and then handed it over. She and Elle had been friends since they were both toddlers. Their families were close, so Coco considered them an extended part of her own.

"She's fine," Elle responded. "Just needs to take it easy, but you know how she is—she's not listening to anything her children tell her."

"How are my babies doing?" Coco inquired, referring to Elle's twin boys.

"Great," she answered. "They are not babies anymore, though. They're growing up so fast. I can hardly believe that they're almost four years old."

"That's why you have to enjoy them as much as you can," Coco said. "My niece is turning five on Saturday. I don't know where the time has gone. It seems like it was just a few months ago that I was changing Cinnamon's diapers and giving her a bottle."

Elle sat down in one of the chairs at the bar. "We haven't talked in a while. What's going on with you, Coco? Anyone special in your life?"

"Nope," she answered. "There's no one special. Other than working, there's nothing else going on right now. I'm not complaining, though. I need a little break. Valentine's Day was a bit hectic this year and March was a steady pace. So far April has been good. I expect this weekend to get a little crazy, since it's the Easter weekend."

"I picked up my stuff for the boys' baskets," Elle said. "Now I just need to sit down and do them. Some days I'm just so tired, all I want to do is sleep."

"Are you feeling okay?" Coco asked out of concern.

Elle nodded. "I'm fine. I've put on some weight from all of the eating out and lying around. I think I'm going to go to the gym after Easter." She gestured toward the door. "I see there's a new store across the street. D-Unit? Have you been over there yet?"

Coco shook her head, turning up her nose. "All I ever hear is hip-hop music, so I won't be giving them any of my money. I really wish they had moved to a different location."

"Why?"

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the bar. "Elle, I moved out here for a reason. See how nice it is? I don't want to be in an area infested with thugs. What do you think that music store is going to bring?" she asked. "Thugs."

"What does Michael think? The factory has been in this location for a while."

"My brother thinks I worry too much. I don't think he worries enough."

Elle chuckled. "Sounds like me and my brothers."

"I saw your hubby yesterday. Did he tell you?"

She nodded. "Brennan's leaving to go to Costa Rica on Saturday. He's going to be gone for a week."

Coco eyed her friend. "Why don't you go with him? You have more than enough people to help with the twins."

"He wants me to, but I don't know."

"Elle, what's up?"

"I just feel that I need to stay home. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm always tired, it seems, and then Ivy's ex-husband is getting married on Saturday and she's very upset about it, so I think I should stay with her. We're going to take her to a spa that day and then do some retail therapy."

"I remember she was pretty upset over the divorce." Coco shook her head. "I can't believe Charles is getting married again."

Elle nodded. "Ivy kept hoping they would get back together. They had even starting seeing each other last July, and spending time together. Then right after Christmas, Charles announced that he was engaged. Apparently he must have been seeing this girl and Ivy at the same time."

"What a jerk," Coco declared.

Elle agreed, switching her purse from one side to the other. "I'm so disappointed in him."

Coco walked her out to her car. Once outside, she heard music blaring from the center and asked, "Can you hear that craziness?"

"It doesn't sound bad. You just don't care for hip-hop music." Elle listened for a moment. "It's not too loud and you only hear it when the doors open, actually."

"It's a genre of music I wish would just die," Coco uttered. "There's just nothing good about it, in my opinion." She loved classical music, gospel and old school R&B, and truly believed that the world could do without rap music.

"I like some of it," Elle said. "There are a few nice ones out there."

"I really wish the owner had opened at another location. We didn't see all these teenage boys in this area until that store opened. They are over there all the time." Coco's view of teenagers was colored by what she saw and heard on television. So far, she had not met anyone who could refute the images.

Elle embraced her. "It'll work out. Most businesses don't seem to last long over there. That one might be gone before you realize it."

Coco nodded. "You're right about that."

"You should come to Riverside one Sunday for one of the Ransom dinners. We have a great time and I know that Mama would love to see you."

"I'd love to come. Maybe we can do it one Sunday next month."

Elle smiled. "Look at your schedule and let me know which one you can make."

The two women embraced again.

"Have a great rest of the week."

Coco strolled back into her shop.

The telephone rang.

She knew instinctively that it was her mother calling because she always called around this time. "Coco's Chocolate Bar," she said.

"Good morning, sweetie. It's Mom."

Coco smiled. "I knew it was you. How are you, Mama?" She propped her hip against the mini stainless steel fridge behind the bar.

"I'm fine. Just wanted to check in with you. How is your day going so far?"

"Great," she responded. "Elle was just here."

"I'm having lunch with Amanda on Wednesday. I haven't seen her in a couple of months so we figured it was time for a girls' day out."

"I'm glad you're getting out," Coco said. Her mother hadn't been feeling well due to a bad sinus infection.

"Oh, by the way, Gregory Barton called here. He's in town for the next couple of weeks and wanted to get together with you."

Greg was an old boyfriend from her college days. "What did you tell him?" Coco asked.

"That I'd give you his information. There was nothing else to say."

"So you didn't mention anything about him getting someone else pregnant while he was seeing me?"

"I figured I'd let you handle all of the particulars," her mother said. "I know that you don't like me interfering in your relationships."

Coco laughed. "You are never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"No, I don't think I am," she responded with a short laugh.

A customer walked into the shop.

"Mama, I have to go," Coco said quickly. "I'll call you later."

She silently debated whether or not to give Greg a call. He'd e-mailed her a few times, apologizing for hurting her and for being unfaithful. He had told her that she was the one who had gotten away.

Whatever.

She later decided that it was best to leave the past in the past. She would call Greg back, but only to say goodbye.

Ransom Winters bobbed his head to the thumping music as he strolled around the room, making sure the boys were completing their school assignments.

Thirty-two years old and a self-made millionaire, Ransom was the founder of D-Unit, a structured day program for at-risk teens who didn't attend school on a regular basis. The boys had a history of excessive class cutting or suspensions in their regular schools; D-Unit was a reputable, short-term alternative for them to attend, but still keep up their regular school assignments.

He paused at the table by a young man wearing a black-and-white Sean John T-shirt. "What are you working on, Jerome?"

The fifteen-year-old glanced up and said, "I have to do a book report on the Civil War."

"Have you started your research?" Ransom asked.

"Not yet." He glanced around the room before adding, "We don't have a computer at home."

"Do you have encyclopedias?"

The boy shook his head, looking embarrassed.

"You can use the computer over there," Ransom said, pointing toward the one on the far left. "We have a set of encyclopedias, as well. Let me know if you need any help."

"Thanks."

Ransom smiled. He truly believed that it took a village to raise children, and having been a youth counselor in the school system, he knew firsthand that most teens weren't misbehaving just because. There was always a reason, usually due to what was going on at home: absent fathers, mothers on drugs, etc. His program allowed teens to come to the center and continue their education. He and his staff worked in a Christian hip-hop environment designed to put the teen boys at ease.

Recent statistics showed that the students in his program returned to school with a change of attitude and grades improved. A couple of the boys had turned in their flags, giving up the gangs to which they once belonged.

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LLLB Sneak Peek - Island Fantasy by Kayla Perrin

Island Fantasy by Kayla Perrin Excerpt

Shayna Kenyon didn't consider herself a vengeful person. Revenge was not her style. In life, she had been able to turn the other cheek when people had wronged her. Been able to move forward and leave any ugliness in the past.

But last night… A flash of what she'd witnessed with her own two eyes entered her brain, causing her stomach to twist harshly. She couldn't very well move forward from Vince's betrayal in the same easy fashion she had moved forward when necessary in the past.

Especially not today.

Today… Oh, Lord help her.

The depth of Vince's betrayal burned deep in her soul. And the timing of it couldn't have been worse.

Shayna inhaled a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes misted, but she held back her tears. She had to do what she was about to do. There was no other choice.

"Baby, it's okay," her father said and held her arm a little closer to his side. "There's no need to cry. You're marrying a man who adores you, and if I do say so myself, you look incredible. You're my daughter, yes, but I mean it when I say this—you're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen. Other than your mother," he added with a smile. "This is your day. Enjoy it."

Enjoy it, Shayna thought sourly. She hadn't enjoyed anything since last night—and she had the puffy eyes to prove it. She'd told her parents that she'd been too excited to sleep, which wasn't the truth. She'd been too devastated to truly rest. All night, she had lain awake, alternately crying and contemplating what to do.

Her decision—approved by her sister—was the only thing giving her the power to walk down the aisle. The fact that there would be some satisfaction in what was coming next. It was the only reason she'd gotten all dressed up and spent two hours getting her hair and makeup done. To see the look on Vince's face when she let him—and all the guests in attendance—know that she knew.

The last of Shayna's five bridesmaids took her place on the podium. After a few beats of silence, the local singer she and Vince had hired began her rendition of "Here I Am" by Beyoncé and Eric Benét. Shayna and Vince had opted for something more contemporary as opposed to the traditional organ music signaling the bride's walk down the aisle.

Shayna swallowed, tears falling from her eyes even though she didn't want them to. Her father pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at her cheeks.

"Come on, baby," he urged. "Everyone's waiting."

Shayna hesitated a beat, suddenly unsure. But even her sister had encouraged her to do what she was about to do next. "Do what you need to do," her younger sister, Brianne, had told her. "As far as I'm concerned, Vince deserves much worse than public humiliation."

The singer continued the soulful love ballad, and Shayna knew she should start moving. Through the church's back door windows, she could see everyone on their feet, waiting for her to take her final walk as a single woman.

The doors opened. She began to move. She was nervous and devastated, and yet she tried to force a smile. Given her state of mind, she wasn't sure she accomplished her goal.

All around her, people were grinning. Some grinning and crying. This was a wonderful occasion. One she'd waited thirty-two years for. Her family was ecstatic that she'd found the kind of love that lasted a lifetime.

Shayna knew better, and soon everyone else would, too.

While walking down the aisle, Shayna hadn't allowed herself to look directly at Vince, afraid she would fall apart. But as she neared him, she did. Her stomach lurched with disgust when she saw the tears streaming down his face.

Tears of joy, or tears of shame?

The tears of shame would come soon—that much she was sure of.

Near the pulpit, her father stopped, faced her and dabbed at his own tears before kissing her cheek. "I love you, baby," he said.

"I love you, too," Shayna said, her voice a whisper.

She hoped her father wouldn't be upset with her ruse, but she knew his wrath would be for Vince. Vince, who'd behaved like the son her father had never had.

How could you? Shayna wondered, and then took the two steps onto the podium to join her groom.

The singer finished her song. Vince took Shayna's hands in his, his eyes lighting up with warmth.

"Baby, you look amazing," he told her, and Shayna wanted to yank her hands from his grip. She was past the devastation, at least temporarily, and was going on pure anger.

"Dearly beloved," the minister intoned. "We are gathered here today—"

"Excuse me," Shayna interrupted, her stomach fluttering. She had known she would speak, but she hadn't expected it to be just then. But she couldn't fake it a moment longer. Couldn't stand the sight of Vince acting like the happy fiancé. "I—I need to say something."

The minister looked confused. So did Vince.

But when neither objected, Shayna forged ahead, meeting her fiancé's tear-filled eyes. "Actually, I have a question for you, sweetheart." She added the last word with much exaggeration.

"What, baby?" Vince asked, looking and sounding concerned. "What is it?"

Part of her wanted to turn and run down the aisle. That would be easier than confronting Vince publicly. And yet, she'd made up her mind. Difficult or not, she was going to do what she'd planned.

"Do you love me, Vince?" Shayna asked. "Love me enough that you believe you're making the right decision by marrying me?"

A hum of surprise sounded in the crowd. People were curious now, perhaps some realizing that something wasn't right.

"Of course I do," Vince responded. He squeezed Shayna's hands tighter and chuckled softly in relief, his tone saying he felt his bride was suffering from last-minute jitters. "You know I love you more than anything, baby. You're the one I want to grow old with. Have children with. Spend the rest of my life with."

There were some, "Awwws," and a few people even clapped—that's how perfect Vince's answer had been.

"Shall I continue?" the minister asked. The warm smile on his face said he also believed that Shayna had simply needed reassuring.

Shayna faced the minister. A beat passed. Then she said, "Just one more question."

Silence filled the church, so much so that the buzzing of a fly could be heard. Shayna swallowed the lump in her throat so that she could find her voice, aware that everyone was waiting to hear what she had to say.

She straightened her shoulders and said, "You love me."

"Of course."

"You love me so much you ended up in your car after your bachelor party, making out with a stripper!"

Startled gasps erupted in the pews.

"Baby," Vince said. He tried to chuckle, but the sound was hollow. "A—a stripper? W-what?"

Shayna pulled her hands from the man she was grateful not to be marrying. "Don't you dare try to lie, Vince. I saw you with my own eyes! You were parked right outside the private hall you rented, you jerk. I saw you leave the building with her. I saw you go to your car with her. And I saw what happened after that, too."

Vince said nothing, but Shayna saw the panic in his widened eyes. The disbelief that she could possibly know what he'd done.

Shayna glanced to her left, at her sister, who was her maid of honor. Brianne nodded her encouragement.

" And baby," Shayna went on, slowly and clearly, "if that's your definition of love, then I'll pass on the whole marrying you thing, thank you very much."

Vince's mouth fell open, but he was too startled to speak. A buzz of surprised chatter instantly filled the church. The groomsmen and bridesmaids all stared at Shayna, stunned looks on their faces. Shayna would answer their questions— but not yet.

Running on adrenaline, Shayna gathered her wide organza skirt in her hands and turned as swiftly as she could. She hustled back down the aisle, aware that all eyes were on her.

She knew she would cry later, but for that moment, as she neared the back doors of the church, she smiled.

Vince Danbury may have had a scandalously good time last night, but Shayna had just had the last laugh.

"You're still going on your honeymoon?" Brianne asked Shayna later that afternoon, the look on her face saying she thought her sister was crazy.

"I'm not going on my honeymoon," Shayna clarified. She was running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, trying to loosen the tight spiral curls the hairdresser had done such a great job of creating for her wedding. "A honeymoon requires two people who just tied the knot."

"You know what I mean," Brianne said. "You still plan to go to Jamaica tomorrow—the trip that was supposed to be your honeymoon?"

"Seven days in Jamaica? Of course I'm going."

Brianne placed her hands on her hips as she stared at Shayna, who sat on the edge of Brianne's bed. "You're serious."

Shayna didn't respond. Instead, her eyes traveled over her sister—from the white orchid adorning her short black hair to the pale yellow maid of honor dress. "Do me a favor, sis?

Take that dress off, please?" Her wedding dress had been the first thing Shayna had taken off when she'd gotten to her parents' house, slipping into a pair of her sister's shorts and a T-shirt. "I really don't want any reminders of Vince."

"Oh." Brianne smoothed her hands over the dress. "Right." She reached behind her to drag down the zipper. "Such a shame I didn't get to wear this all day. After all that weight I lost for your wedding…"

Her sister did look fabulous. At the beginning of the year, she'd started a diet and rigorous workout routine to get in better shape for Shayna's wedding. She'd lost thirty-five pounds.

Brianne walked toward the closet, shimmying the dress off her shoulders. She found a red sundress with a formfitting halter neck and slipped into that.

Brianne twirled around, facing Shayna again in the casual dress. "Better?"

Shayna nodded. "Yes. Except for the flower."

Brianne pulled the flower from her hair and tossed it onto her dresser. "Now, back to your trip—"

"Yes, I'm going."

"But you're grieving," Brianne protested. "This isn't the time to go on a trip alone."

"Why not?"

"Because you hate even going to a movie alone," Brianne pointed out. "I can't see you going on a trip by yourself."

"Well, I am."

The look Brianne flashed her sister was full of doubt. She thought Shayna was bluffing.

"I'm a big girl," Shayna went on. "I'm entitled."

"I know, but—"

"But what? You think I'm going to do something crazy?"

"Maybe you will," Brianne said, but her tone quavered, indicating she didn't believe her sister would do anything out of character. "Maybe you'll end up marrying the first man who hits on you."

Shayna laughed out loud at that.

"Don't laugh. Remember that happened to my friend Gloria's friend's sister."

Shayna scowled at Brianne. "That was in Vegas, and she was drunk and on the rebound."

"You're on the rebound."

"Rebound? Already?" Shayna's heart spasmed, but somehow, she found the strength to force a laugh. "Right now I should be at the park, taking perfect wedding photos with that expensive photographer Daddy hired. Instead…" Her voice trailed off. She couldn't go on, or she would cry. "Bree, the way I feel right now, if I never see another man, it'll be too soon. Trust me."

Brianne took a seat beside Shayna on the bed. "Shay, I'm so sorry. Part of me wishes I'd never suggested we drive by that hall to see what the groomsmen were up to."

"And if we hadn't, I'd be married right now—not knowing that my husband was a dirty cheating jerk." The anger helped Shayna hold back any tears. "No, I'm glad you suggested it. Everything happens for a reason, and in this case, it was to spare me the pain of marrying the wrong man." Shayna was amazed at how calmly and rationally she was dealing with the situation, but she truly believed that nothing good came of fretting over something she couldn't control. "I don't want to be married for the sake of being married. I need to be with a man who loves and adores me enough not to sleep with some stripper he just met. To know—even if he was drunk—that no other woman could ever tempt him away from the woman who's in his heart."

Brianne shook her head, the look on her face suddenly venomous. "I still can't believe Vince could do that. If we hadn't witnessed it, I never would have believed him capable of that kind of betrayal."

"Me neither," Shayna said softly. "And the night before our wedding? That's the reason I need to go away. I can't be around here, see all the places we liked to go to. I can't deal with the calls from everyone. I'm holding it together now, but I know at some point I'm going to fall apart."

"Which is why you need to be with your family. People who love you."

Shayna smiled, loving her sister for caring so much, though if the situation were reversed, Shayna would be saying the same thing to Brianne. They were eighteen months apart, but as close as twins. They'd been there for each other through every triumph and tragedy in each other's lives.

Like when Brianne had lost her boyfriend, Carter. Three years ago, Carter had vanished while hiking in the Rockies. After weeks of searching for him and finding only his backpack, the authorities came to the conclusion that he'd likely died of exposure, and that coyotes or other wildlife must have eaten his remains. It had been the worst time of Brianne's life—after which she'd turned to food for comfort. Shayna had been there for her sister through the entire harrowing ordeal.

"I know how much you love me," Shayna said, smiling softly. "And I appreciate you caring for me. But I need some time for myself. Time to reflect on everything. Time to lie in bed and do nothing if I don't want to. Time to sit on the beach and read all those books I thought I'd never have time to read. Time to just…get away from it all."

"You're sure?" Brianne asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Shayna said, feigning a confidence she didn't feel. "'Still I rise,'" she went on, quoting Maya Angelou.

To order online, go to: http://www.eharlequin.com/storeitem.html?iid=20955

LLL&B Chats with Brenda Jackson February 25, 2010

Join Live, Love, Laugh and Books as we welcome Brenda Jackson to our February Chat.

Date: Thursday, February 25, 2010
Time: 8:00pm until 9:00pm EST
Where: http://chat.parachat.com/chat/login.html?room=LiveLoveLaughandBooks&width=600&height=400&bg=FFFFFF&lang=en

Ravished By Desire
by Brenda Jackson

A Little Dare

When Shelly Brockman walks into his office, Sheriff Dare Westmoreland can almost taste the sweet, steamy passion they'd once shared. Then she informs him that he is the father of her son, the unruly preteen Dare arrested earlier that day, and his fantasies turn to fury. Shelly has returned to her Georgia hometown to get her son away from the mean streets of Los Angeles, and she hopes that getting to know his father will do her child a world of good. But will being so close to Dare—the only man to ever make Shelly's heartbeat race—reopen old wounds, or will this be her last chance to secure his love forever?

Thorn's Challenge

One sizzling kiss from Thorn Westmoreland isn't enough to convince Tara Matthews to risk her heart again…or is it? The beautiful doctor and the hard-driving motorcycle tycoon mix like oil and water. Why, then, can't Tara erase the memory of the sexy racer from her head, or thoughts of his passionate caresses from her body? Thorn has wanted Tara since the day they met. His plan is to seduce the prickly doctor and indulge in a casual affair. But before he can savor the success of their passion, she turns the tables on him. Now instead of working her out of his system, Thorn is hell-bent on winning Tara's love….

LLLB Sneak Peek - Paper Thin by Shelia M Goss

The Lip Gloss Chronicles explores the life of three Sassy, Urban, and Hip high school friends who are high on fashion and a magnet for drama.

Paper Thin by Shelia M Goss Excerpt

“Sierra, don’t tell Jorge,” Maria Sanchez said to me, as I helped her sneak shopping bags into the house. The way my step-mother shopped, you could not tell we were in a recession.

If my dad found out, he would be upset. He had sat the whole family down earlier this year to let us know that business was slow so we all needed to buckle down to ride out the storm. We used to have a live-in maid, but now she only comes over three times a week. My dad, a prominent Dallas real estate developer, over the years had received many awards. He was often compared to Donald Trump because whatever he touched seemed to turn to gold.

Zion and my dad were busy in the den playing a video game so it gave us time to put her things away. After what seemed like hours but was only minutes, I said, “Mom, I think I’ll take a nap. All of this shopping has worn me out.” I helped her remove tags to the clothing items as she hung them up in her closet.

“We’re about through here anyway. Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” she responded. “I’m trying to make sure we eat before six. We don’t want all of our hard work this past summer to go to waste do we?”

I loved Maria as if she was my own mom, but her constant obsession with my weight had gotten on my nerves. She was good at keeping secrets. My dad had no idea that our week long excursions over the summer were really weight loss retreats that she insisted her and I attend. Maria’s battle with the bulge was rubbing off on me.

It was times like these that I missed Vanessa, my real mom. I was real young when she died in a car crash. My memories of her sometimes seemed vivid and strong and then there were times that I could barely remember her. Those are the times when I would get depressed. My BFFs – Best Friends Forever, Britney Franklin and Jasmine McNeil, usually helped get me out of my funk.

I threw myself across my bed and closed my eyes. Sleep evaded me. I fumbled with my Blackberry and called Britney. “Hey chica,” I said, when she answered.

“Do you want a baby brother or sister?” Britney asked, as I heard the twins crying in the background.

“Nope. My little brother is enough.”

“Precious hit Teddy Junior because he was taking up too much of my attention. Now they both are crying,” she stated. It sounded like the babies were right in the phone as loud as they were.

“Call me back later. When things settle down,” I said.

“No, I can talk. I just buzzed their nanny. She’ll be in any minute.”

“Is Jas back?” I asked.

“She got back last night. She said she was going to text you.”

“She did, but she didn’t mention she was back.”

“I can’t wait to see you guys. It seems like these last two months had us all going in different directions,” Britney said. I no longer heard the twins in the background.

“At least you guys went on real vacations. I was forced to go on these retreats with my mom.”

“I’ve never been to Albuquerque or the Poconos,” Britney said.

“It may have been fun if I wasn’t starving. We didn’t eat anything but green vegetables and maybe a small piece of meat each time. And the long hikes. You ought to see my leg muscles. I should be fit to run a marathon.”

Britney laughed. “Girl, well you should be kicking up your heels during dance rehearsal next week.”

“I can’t wait. I’m hoping we get to perform more this year.”

“Me too. I’ve been practicing some moves. You ought to come over tomorrow so I can show you.”

“I don’t know. I think my mom wants me to spend quality time with her and the family tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”

Britney’s line clicked. “Three-way Jas. That’s her on my other line.”

A few seconds later, Jasmine was on the line. “Did y’all miss me?” Jasmine asked.

“No,” Britney and I said in unison.

“You both will be changing your tune when you see the gifts I brought back for you.”

I sat up in bed while thumbing through a fashion magazine. I said, “I promise to be nice.” I paused and then said, “For a minute anyway.”

We all burst out laughing.

Britney placed us on hold to talk to Marcus. Jasmine said, “I thought her and Marcus was through.”

“Their just friends,” I said, in her defense.

“She knows he still likes her so I don’t know why she keeps stringing him along.”

“I heard that,” Britney said, alerting us she was back on the line.

“Well you are. Marcus is not just trying to be your friend. He wants more. You know it and we know it.”

Jasmine and I didn’t always agree on everything but I did agree with her about Marcus intentions with Britney. Britney and Marcus were boyfriend and girlfriend for a few months but because of Marcus’ cousin, Dylan Johnson or DJ as we called him, their relationship fizzled. Just the thought of DJ, my worst nightmare, made my skin crawl. I thought I was in love with him and he would have taken advantage of my feelings if my friends wouldn’t have intervened.

I heard my name called a few times snapping me out of my bad memory of DJ. “Bri, spill the beans. Are you and Marcus back together or what?” I asked.

“We are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you guys that,” Britney said, sounding frustrated.

“Enough about Bri. I met the cutest guy on the cruise ship. He lives in Los Angeles. Get this. He has relatives in Shreveport so when he comes down to visit, we’ll be hooking up,” Jasmine said. She loved being the center of attention and it was clear that this past summer didn’t change her in that aspect.

We continued to listen to Jasmine tell us about her summer vacation. It had been two months since we had seen each other because of our family summer schedules. My two BFFs would be in for a surprise when they saw me—twenty-five pounds less of me. It’s not like I was keeping a secret but after Jasmine taunted me last year about my weight gain, I didn’t feel comfortable talking to them about my weight.

Jasmine and Britney were naturally thin. Me, I had to work hard at maintaining an average weight. My birth mom was what folks called big-boned and I inherited it from not only her but my dad’s side of the family. My cousins said that I shouldn’t try to lose weight because when I got older I would appreciate having the bigger booty since guys loved a girl with a big butt.

I didn’t know about that, but I did know my weight at the time was one hundred and seventy pounds and it had me stressing. It was more than likely the reason why I became DJ’s victim. I needed to work on more than my weight; I needed to work on my attitude. I had an unforgettable freshman year and I was anxious to see what challenges I would face my sophomore year at one hundred and forty-five pounds.

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