Sunday, November 27, 2016

Sample Sunday




A short and sweet (or bitter depending on how you look at it) unedited snippet from the yet untitled sequel to No Strings Allowed. Enjoy!


“Okay, but why are you so damn big? I know changing oil ain’t that damn physically taxing.”
He laughed and took a swig of his beer.
“Nah, I played football in high school and college. The workout regime beefed me up and that shit never really goes away.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “College?”
Nodding he said, “Yeah, I played three of my four years when I was at Grambling for my undergrad.”
“What did you study?”
“I got my BS in computer science there, then my MBA from Prairie View.”
What you say?!
“You have an MBA yet you work in a mechanic’s shop?” Incredulity was all in my voice.
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s right.”
“What do your parents think about you wasting your degree like that? Just throwing their money away?” I shook my head and sipped at my own drink.
Leaning back in his seat he regarded he intently. I stared back unblinkingly.
“For some reason you decided to place judgement on me instead of asking me straight up questions. Okay. That’s fine, but let me clarify a few things for you.” He chuckled dryly. “First, aside from sending me care packages on a regular basis, my parents didn’t pay one dime into my college education. They couldn’t afford to. Partial scholarships from football paid for my tuition and books for the three years I played and I took out loans for everything else. Second, neither of my degrees is being wasted. I utilize them both very regularly and they are how I was able to open that mechanic shop debt free.” He looked down at his plate before shaking his head and pushing back his chair.
I sat there stunned and thoroughly shamed as I watched him carry his plate into my kitchen then disappeared into the living room before resurfacing while shrugging on his jacket.
Wait, he’s leaving?
He answered my thought when he spoke. “I’m going to head out. Thanks for dinner, it was delicious.”
“I—“ I was at a loss for words. I wasn’t even sure what was happening right then.
He walked over to me and kissed my forehead. “Hey, it’s all good. I guess you were right, we should have just skipped to dessert that first day.” He tugged on my hand as if he wasn’t breaking my heart.
Pause! Breaking my WHAT?
“Come lock the door behind me.” He pulled me across my tiny apartment. “I’ll talk you later aiight?” Without waiting for a response he gave me another quick kiss, this time on the lips, before dropping my hand and exiting my apartment.
I stood there, dazed, trying to process how quickly things had turned sour when banging on my door caused me to nearly jump out of my skin.
“Lock the door!” Hurriedly I did as I was told before going to grab my glass off the table. I finished my wine in one large gulp.
“Damn, I really fucked up.”


Thursday, November 24, 2016

Six Months Later...

It has been six months since I published No Strings Allowed  under my pseudonym Desha Durham and I still get giddy when I get the opportunity to say to someone: "I'm a published author". For more than 20 years I was a "writer" but it was my heart's desire to be more. Now, here I am. I am here. In this place. Writing and shit.

Francesca and Thomas' story was fun for me to write. It was very out-of-the-box for me and was surprisingly easy to write. Now I'm working on part two of that project and the excitement continues. I don't have a release date just yet but I will drop a lil somethin' somethin' soon. As a matter of fact, I think I will hop on that "Sample Sunday" train that I've seen CCJ and Te Russ drive. It's such a great idea and it definitely keeps me hungry for more.

That being said, I won't drag this out too much longer. If you haven't read No Strings Allowed, you can buy it on Amazon for just $0.99 and read it for free with Kindle Unlimited.

Below is an excerpt. Enjoy!


As she stepped into the lobby of the hotel after handing her car over to the valet, she realized neither she nor Thomas had discussed plans beyond the time and place for that night. They had not even exchanged phone numbers. Always a smart woman, Francesca did not let uncertainty make her misstep. Instead she kept her back straight and headed for the hotel’s bar with confidence and proceeded to order a drink. She savored that first sip as the smooth liquor eased down her throat leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. The air shifted to her right as someone slid onto the barstool beside her.
“My, my, my Francesca, it was a pleasure watching you walk into this hotel. I must say, you are even more beautiful in person.”
She turned to her right and gave the man an appraising look. His voice was unexpectedly deep and incredibly sexy, causing an uncontrollable shiver to run down her spine. The dark hair she had admired only hours earlier on her computer screen was wavy and rumpled as if he had ran his hands through it several times before she saw him. His green eyes were even more intense up close and she noticed they were flecked with brown, making them appear almost hazel. He sported a neatly trimmed beard instead of the shadow from his profile picture. It was nestled under a set of full pink lips which were curved into sultry grin. He wore a suit that hugged his broad shoulders in such a way that she knew instantly it had been tailored made, as it fit him perfectly. His feet were encased in leather dress shoes and were resting comfortably on the floor despite him sitting on a bar stool. You know what they say about tall men with big feet. She restrained herself from taking a peek. Instead, she arched an eyebrow at him.
“No need for flattery, Thomas. We both know I’m going to fuck you regardless.” His eyes widened in surprise momentarily before it disappeared, replaced by desire and a bit of admiration. He slid back off the stool and held her arm as she followed his example.
“Well why don’t we head upstairs and see where the night takes us.”