#SampleSunday: ain't no gluten, bih.

This sample is copyrighted, unedited, and subject to my fickle mind making changes prior to publication...

xoxo, 

Nicole

Since I had to go to the store anyway, my mother sent me with a list of items she and my grandmother needed to get through next week. Just a couple few things, Reem, she said, handing me a list of easily thirty or so items that were allegedly desperately needed. I grabbed a cart near the entrance of the store and began my journey through the aisles. When I walked into the aisle with all of the baking supplies, I came upon a familiar face. She stood in the middle of the aisle, intently examining a package of something that looked like flour, but I wasn’t totally sure.

I took a second to just stare at her before she noticed I was there. Still bad as ever, her hair pulled up on top of her head in a haphazard bun, dressed down in yoga pants, some type of pink, funnel neck hoodie, and gym shoes. Those yoga pants were doing her ass all kinda of favors that had me sending up a quick prayer to whomever had a hand in crafting those curves.

“You know it’s mad creepy to just stare at someone,” she said, startling me out of my gawking.

I pushed my cart further down the aisle and sidled up beside her.

“You looked super concentrated on whatever uh…” I looked at the package now dangling from her left hand, on its way to the hand basket in her right, “flour that is. Never knew flour was so intriguing.”

Celena let out a quick giggle, “Hush, I’m trying out a new recipe for a friend and wanted to make sure I got the gluten free flour that I needed.”

“Oh your friend is one of those?”

“One of what?”

“Gluten-free, taste-free crazy people.”

“Do you even know what gluten-free means?”

“Of course I do. It means ain’t no gluten, bih.”

Celena immediately let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Something is wrong with you.”

“Actually, there is something wrong with me. You wanna hear about it?”

Shifting her weight, Celena reared back on her heels a little and said, “Okay. I’ll bite…what’s up?”

I looked around the aisle before moving in closer, grabbing her by the elbow, leaning in as if I didn’t want anyone else to hear what I was about to say.

“See, I met this fly ass chick, at some crazy speed dating event I got roped into doing because it was at my friend’s bar and they were short on guys. We vibed, I thought she felt it too…hoped she felt it too, but I wasn’t too sure. Before the end of the night I gave her my number…she refused to give her hers…”

At those words Celena bristled.

“But it was cool. I was letting her come around to Big Daddy…”

“Big Daddy?” Celena repeated, one delicate brow lifting in askance.

“I said what I said. Anyway…you gonna let me finish my story or what?”

She motioned with her hands for me to continue.

“So…she played me and my heart was broken. Sat in my place playing Carl Thomas’ ‘Emotional’, feeling it deeply when that brotha sang ‘look at me, I can’t stop crying’…still holding out hope that she’d call. But days turned to weeks and weeks to months…”

“Oh my gosh, it has not been months,” Celena interrupted, laughing.

“Are you telling the story or me? So…imagine my surprise when she showed up in a random grocery store that I wasn’t even supposed to be in today. Must be fate.”

“Or you’re a stalker…”

“Nah, I’dve found your pretty ass way before now if I was a stalker. Trust me,” I said, looking her directly in the eye.

Our gazes fused for a moment before Celena’s eyes lowered as she exhaled slowly. She was quiet for a few moments more, before squaring her shoulders and raising her eyes back to mine.

“So fate?”

“Kismet, divine order, something brought us together again. Only this time I’m not letting you get away without giving me your number.”

“And you’re confident that I will?”

“Hopeful that you will, there’s a difference. But be clear, I won’t sweat you, sweetheart. If this…”I motioned between us with my hands to indicate a transference of energy, “is one sided, you gotta gon ahead and let me know now. But let me down gently, baby. I don’t know how much more Carl my neighbors can take.”

Celena giggled, “You are so silly.”

“So…?”

She pulled away from me slightly, retrieved her phone out of the kangaroo pouch of her hoodie and pressed a button. Shortly thereafter, my phone began buzzing in my pocket.

“Aw shit, you already had the number saved? See I knew you’d come around to Big Daddy.”

“Don’t make me regret this, Karim,” she warned, a hint of mischief in her tone, “And for the love of all that’s holy, please stop calling yourself Big Daddy before I block your number right here, right now.

“You’ll never regret getting to know me, sweetheart. Trust me. Didn’t I tell you my mama raised a gentleman?”

“Mmmmmhmmm and the last guy that told me that? The lie detector determined that was a lie.”

“That’s one.”

“One what?”

“I’m giving you a pass. That was your one and only time to compare me to some other dude. Let’s not let this happen again.”

Celena’s head reared back, as a look of utter disgust spread across her face.

“You know what?” she began, before I cut her off.

“I don’t know, but from that change in your demeanor I can just about guess, so I’ma just say this. Whatever dude did a number on you? I ain’t him and he damn sure ain’t me. I don’t want this to turn ugly before we even get a chance to build, so I’ma bounce…give you some time to breathe, but just know…I’m coming for you. And I’m bout to court the hell out of you so hard that you’ll forget whatever nigga you dared compare to me.”

With those words, I pushed the cart past Celena, grabbed my sweetened condensed milk and kept it moving out of that aisle. As I rounded the corner to the next aisle, I chanced a glance back. Celena still stood in the place I left her, with her agape mouth slowly curving into a smile. Yep, I was definitely going to enjoy getting to know her.

#SampleSunday: Safety First

This sample is copyrighted, unedited, and subject to my fickle mind making changes prior to publication...

xoxo, 

Nicole

***

“So I guess we should call it one.”

Celena quickly glanced around the cafe and noticed we were the only ones left in here who weren’t workers. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said pulling out her phone, “Let me get an Uber.”

“No need for that, I can drive you home.”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way. I’m all the way on the East side.”

“It’s not out of my way. I am on the East side too, seventy-seventh and Warren, to be exact. If you’re feeling a way about accepting a ride from a stranger, Fred and Marni can vouch for me. I’ve known Fred since we were in first grade. Hell, he’s more of a brother to me than...anyway, they can tell you I’m not gonna drive you to a secluded area and use your bones for a bonfire.”

She laughed as I grabbed her phone, tucking it into her pocket and linking our hands together, escorting her out of Perk. She had drifted to the side of the sidewalk closer to traffic so I was purposeful in shifting her to the right; placing myself closest to the street as we walked.

“Is your thing for cars something we need to get checked out, Karim?” Celena asked, a hint of humor in her tone.

“Beg pardon?”

“On our way here you maneuvered so you were closest to the street and you just did so now. I know you said cars were your livelihood, but should I also be looking into getting you on My Strange Addiction?”

“I have no idea what that is, but no. My mother always told me to make sure the lady is never in danger of traffic. It’s a protection thing.”

“Well what about now,” she asked, as we approached the crosswalk at a red light, “There’s traffic all around. How are you supposed to protect me?”

I quickly moved from her left side, to stand directly in front of her, arms wrapping around her shoulders. I heard her quick intake of breath as I pulled her flush against me.

“Feel protected now?”

Adams Rd. Walk sign is on the cross. 

The robotic voice telling us it was safe to cross saved her from having to respond. I unwrapped my arms from her shoulders, grabbing her hand once again. We continued walking and arrived back at Imbibe where, to our surprise, Cadence was still sitting at the bar. She had been joined by a brotha who looked like a lineman for the Bears. Cadence made eye contact with Celena, darting a glance down to our intertwined hands and blinked a few times in rapid succession. Celena quickly dropped my hand, offering a strained smile.

“I had fun tonight, Karim.”

“Me too, hope we can do this again soon.”

“Yeah...I have your number, so…”

“I can’t get yours?”

“I’ll be in touch,” she said, reaching up to press a quick kiss to my cheek.

Why do I write romance?

I've been thinking about this question a lot over the past few days. I had a conversation with someone a while back and they said to me, "Since when do you write romance?" My answer was...well, I always have. I've always written stories that have some romantic aspect, but for some reason or another they never quite got off the ground. I was so focused on creating a conflict or some other crazy backstory, that they just never quite...curled all the way over. 

So I took some time away from writing creatively. And then I set out reading all of my half constructed pieces of writing to see where I'd gone wrong and if they could be salvaged and perhaps completed. In all of the stories there was a common theme--relationships. In some pieces they were familial bonds, but in most they were man-woman love relationships. And instead of just focusing on the relationships, I was on a quest to "dig deeper" to find the motivation behind acts and behaviors.

But that's not how I'm meant to write. It's not what I enjoy to write. In writing what I do, I do eventually explore motivations and such, but in all honesty? I love writing about love. I'm a sucker for a meet cute. Audibly squeal when characters realize their connection is more than a passing feeling. Revel in that first kiss, first declaration of love, eventual marriage and happily ever after.

And it's not some deep thing like "oh we rarely see Black love in media so I've been sent here to blahblahblah...". It's...just my passion. It's what I know. It's the only experience I feel connected to and qualified enough to tell the stories of. Slang based, negro nosed, Blackity black ass love.

Let's Take a Ride...

Okay. So...This idea popped into my head a few days ago because I thought it'd be a cute thing. If you've read AY, this is a brief peek at the Baellis origin story. :) Hope you enjoy!

&&&

“It was blue and silver, with three silver swings.”

“Babe, aren’t men supposed to be the ones prone to colorblindness? It was white and green with two white swings and a teeter-totter thing.”

“Oh my God, Ellis. The damn thing was in my backyard for sixteen years of my life. I think I know what color it was.”

“I’m telling you, you’re wrong.”

“I distinctly remember me, Ev, and Cade being able to swing at the same time while you sat off to the side too cool to play with the ‘babies’ as you termed us. So not only are you colorblind, but also revisionist.”

“You’re wrong. Point blank. In fact, I’m not even going to argue anymore because that’s how right I am.”

We were in my car, driving…well, nowhere in particular. We’d developed cabin fever after being inside on our Netflix and chill steez over this long weekend; so I suggested we take a ride. No real destination in mind, just us, the open road and apparently, a disagreement. I’d looked down and saw a half crescent moon shaped scar on Ellis’ knee that I hadn’t noticed before and asked him to tell me about how it got there. He reminded me that he got it from my childhood swing set, trying to do tricks and failing to stick the landing. A swing set he clearly misremembered as we were now arguing about the color of the set, the original point of the story forgotten.

“I know how we can solve this.”

I pressed the voice command button in my steering wheel.

Please say a command after the tone.

“Call Cadence Garner, mobile.”

Calling Cadence Garner mobile.

As the phone began to ring, Ellis said, “Wait. You have CadyMac in your phone as not only her full government, but the old one? My god, girl, when’s the last time you updated your contacts?”

“Are we seriously having this conversation? Or are you tryna distract me so I don’t remember why I called her in the first place so you can claim your flimsy ass memory is right?”

“I just wanna know…why so formal?”

“Uhhh…hello?” Cadence said.

We were so busy going back and forth that I hadn’t even noticed she’d picked up.

“Hey boo. So I’m in the car with Ellis…”

“Obviously,” she interrupted.

Ellis began, “Will you please tell your friend…”

“Nope, nope. Hush, boy. I’m telling her because you’re going to…”

“Y’all. Seriously. What is it? I’ma kinda in the middle of something right now?” Cadence broke in.

“You remember my swing set when we lived in Mayview? What color was it?”

“Green and silver.”

“Cade! Seriously? IT WAS BLUE.”

Ellis said nothing, just sat there smirking at me.

“Nope, it was green because I remember Uncle painted over the blue to green because that was your favorite color.”

“I’m right because I said it was blue, Ellis.”

“It was blue for all of 12 hours…green the rest of our lives. I won.”

“Cade…did it have two swings or three?”

“Y’all seriously have nothing better to do right now, huh? I was lying down, relaxing. Something told me not to answer this call, but then I said ‘well self, maybe she finally done climbed off the dick long enough to check in with her miserable second trimester having pregnant friend to see how she’s doing’. But nah…y’all are having the world’s silliest argument and decided to interrupt my rest for it.”

“Thanks, CadyMac. Talk to you later,” Ellis said, reaching over to press the end call button on my steering wheel.

“Why’d you hang up on her? I’m gonna have to hear about that later.”

“Because my girlfriend drives even more like a bat outta hell when she’s riled up and I wanna live to see thirty-five…and she was about the wild the fuck out on us. One sassy mouthed woman a day is my limit.”

I looked down at the speedometer and realized that I was doing over 80mph. I eased off the accelerator; taking note to see we had crossed state lines and were less than 30 miles from a lakeside tourist trap town. I’d never explored the area before, but figured while we were here…

“Point taken. Hey, you wanna take an adventure with me?” 

Ellis reached for the hand I wasn’t driving with and laced our fingers together. He dropped a light kiss on my hand and answered, “Aren’t we on one now?”

I rolled my eyes, “We’re on a drive. I said adventure. So…you game?”

“Always.”

“Just like that? You trust me?”

“Undoubtedly. With my life. Except when you’re nervous, excited or angry and driving.”

I felt my face warming at his first response. I’m certain if I were a few shades lighter, he would have noticed my blush.

“Hush, I’m not that bad! I was only ten over the limit.”

“Babe, are your math skills as bad as your memory? Speed limit is sixty-five, you were going eighty. That’s fifteen over.”

“Yeah, but like really only ten.”

“The emphasis on really. Ok, I wanna hear this. How is fifteen really only ten?”

“The no ticket buffer zone.”

“The what?”

“No ticket buffer zone. When my daddy was teaching me to drive on the e-way initially, he told me about it. You get five miles over the speed limit as a freebie, but anything after that could be ticketed. So like, if I got stopped it woulda only been a ten miles or less speeding ticket fine.”

“Bee. That’s…that’s not a thing. You can get a ticket for going a mile over if the cop out that day is that petty.”

“Oh…well that explains the other thing daddy taught me that day, then. How to cry on command,” I said, winking at Ellis.

“So where are we going on this adventure?”

“You’ll see…” 

We were about fifteen miles out when Ellis asked where my phone was. 

“Center console.”

He grabbed it, unlocked, and proceeded to scroll through…

“What are you looking for? And how do you know my unlock code?”

“Really? Everyone knows your unlock code is your birthday. I’m looking through your contacts. I refuse to believe everyone is in your phone by their full government names. Even Auntie Im and your dad.”

He kept scrolling, pausing briefly to do something on the phone’s screen that I couldn’t see.

“What are you doing now?”

“You have your doctor in here by her full name? I never knew you were this anal, Bee.”

“Are you seriously scrolling my whole phonebook? Can you not?”

He placed my phone in the cup holder and asked, “You don’t want me to run across the names of any of your hoes, huh?”

“You damn right!”

We were quickly approaching the exit to the tourist trap’s main drag when my phone began to ring. I looked at the screen to see who was calling and saw it said Baellis. I immediately burst into screaming laughter.

“Seriously? I don’t even call you bae.”

“A little birdie told me that when I brought breakfast for you and your team three days ago that was…and I quote…bae as fuck. So…though it referenced my action, it was still in reference to me. Therefore…”

I rolled my eyes and smiled. “You are such a nerd.”

“You love my nerdy ass though.”

“Meh, you aight…” I replied, shrugging—trying to keep a smile off my face.

It's been a week...

So guys...the number one question I've been asked this week is "How does it feel?" This blog is an attempt to answer that...

Here's the thing. I was lowkey punked into publishing this book. I started writing to it prove to myself that I could start and complete a work in its entirety. Somewhere along the way it turned into this little story that I kinda liked, but didn't know if other people would. Then I shared it with my published friends and they liked it too...or were being nice to me because we were friends. I wasn't certain at this point. Then I let my bestie who isn't super into reading glance at the first two chapters and she liked it. And then I shared it with a friend who is an avid reader and semi-harsh critic and she liked it. By then I thought, okay...it's cute enough that none of my friends have said, "naw sis, hang it up"; maybe I should keep writing. 

And I did. And got frustrated. Then had breakthroughs. And then finally typed the words, the end. That right there? Was enough for me, if we're being honest. I'd finally done it, after years of saying I was gonna do it, false starts, and bullshitting--I wrote an entire book (ish...novella type thing). Whew, I cried so hard after I typed the end. (If you follow me on Twitter, you know I'm heavy into crying...my emotions be so overwhelming!)

And then I sent it to my published friends and they said..."oh hey, this cute or whatever,  but you ain't done." (Fun fact: The first completed draft of this book did not include the gondola fight in its entirety because I didn't like writing conflict. LOL). So I went back and I added and updated and edited and added and updated and edited again and then sat with the finished draft. I...well, honestly I was scared shitless. 

What if no one read it? What if people did read it and hated it? Negative thoughts kept coming at full force until one of my friends said & I quote, "Oh bitch. Stop fucking around so I can buy this shit!" Profanity is my love language, so mere minutes after she said that I hit the publish button. And waited. Then felt immediate regret.

But then a funny thing happened. People who weren't my friends read it and...liked it. My friends who hadn't read it previously read it and liked it. The work was met with overwhelming positivity that made me cry so many times that I lost count, tbh. All of a sudden it was less the little book that could and more the little book that did. I'm completely blown away by the reception so far and honestly do not think I can put into words how every single comment, review, tweet, text, blog post, etc. has buoyed me over this past week.

I feel very Taylor Swiftian in my response when I see a new review that is glowing, but honestly I didn't expect fanfare. I didn't expect praise. I just wrote a story, hoping people would like it and if they didn't, they would tactfully decline to let me know. I was confident that I could write grammatically sound sentences, but was unsure of being able to write a story that would keep a reader riveted. So I can check that one off now. : )

The pressure is on though. I am currently in school full time, working full time, and allegedly beginning work on book two (Celena--not Cass & Ev. I don't think I'll ever write Cassett/Everidy, but that's a different story for a different day). I don't want to churn out something quickly to capitalize on this moderate level of success, but I also don't want to wait too long and lose my writing mojo. So I've begun outlining, have lined up a friend to bug about a hobby he shares with my hero and plan to tuck into writing soon.

But I just wanted to get this quick blog off to say thank you to each and every person who has read this book, whether you liked it or not, haha. I'm overwhelmingly honored that these lil crazy people inside my head are ones with whom you can relate and hope to be able to continue to write stories about our love that are both relatable and a little left of center.

xoxo,

Nicole

#SampleSunday: who's that girl?

This sample is copyrighted, unedited, and subject to my fickle mind making changes prior to publication...

xoxo,

Nicole

******

“So what’s her name, son?” my father asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Whose name, Pops?”

“The one that’s got you running outta here barely after you finish the last bite of ya meal every week? Don’t give me that bullshit excuse you’re giving your mother, either.”

Everett laughed, looking at me.

“Pops, I really did get put in charge of a new project at work,” I said, not answering the question.

“I don’t doubt you did, Ellis. But I know my son. You’re too anxious when you’re tryna get up outta here. You don’t have that crazy ass expression that you normally do when the job got you hemmed up. So it’s gotta be a lil filly.”

I remained silent, neither confirming nor denying. Everett continued laughing.

“What’s so funny, Ev? You met her yet? Why isn’t he bringing her ‘round here to meet ya mama and me yet? She got a cockeye? One leg shorter than the other? Hump in the back?”

“N-n-nah Pops. I don’t know n-nothing about any girl. I think it really is some w-work shit,” Everett said, unconvincingly.

“And you’re obviously lying, Porky.”

I laughed loudly at that. Pops hadn’t called him that in at least twenty years. Everett was less than amused, however. Growing up, Ev was a lil portly through his preteen years. Combine that with his penchant for stuttering when he wasn’t telling the truth and the nickname was born. That goddamn stammer had given me away though.  We sat in silence until Pops broke the stalemate.

“Fine. I’ll leave it for now. But I’m warning you; your flimsy work excuse won’t last much longer. You know how Miranda is. She’s about to start parading eligible bachelorettes in front of you at these dinners. So whatever you got going on with your love life, you better get it together fast.”

“You gotta hold her off, Pops.”

“Now you know good and damn well I can’t stop that woman when she’s on a roll.”

“Dad. For real. I need you to run interference for me. I’m not confirming or denying anything, but I will say that I don’t need Miranda Taylor finding me a woman. Not right now. Not in the future.”

My dad paused a beat, looking at me curiously for a few minutes.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“Yep,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer and turning his attention back to the game.