Simply Cheris. . .

I felt bad for Lolo Jones . We mocked her. Even her teammates got pissy about the attention that Lolo received --even though it was negative attention. Now, I don't feel anything but disgust. Over the last few days, I've been off social media for extended periods of time because of the vile things people are saying about the Trayvon Martin trial and Rachel Jeantel.   She is the young lady who heard Trayvon Martin die. Ignorance on social media about this young lady is heartbreaking. And Jones, who was mocked because she failed to win a medal in the Olympics, joined in. Comparing Jeantel to Tyler Perry's Madea. Not funny Lolo. You whined and cried about the negative attention you received last year, but you're quick to mock a young lady who has to relive some real trauma?  Please have an Olympic stadium of seats. Please sit down and shut the f*** up. Lolo Jones          ✔ @ lolojones ...

Now, your girl is not a drinker so one bottle of wine knocked me out. Knocked me out to the point that I overslept and was three hours late for work the next day. And I picked the wrong day to show up late with a hangover. Deanna looked at me and shook head when I walked in the office with a wrinkled shirt and a pair of khakis on. “Bad look, Mimi,” she whispered then pulled me into the vacant conference room. “What?” I asked. “Sonia just quit. And I mean she went out of here like Angela Bassett in Waiting To Exhale. It would’ve been beautiful, but the City Manager wants to meet with us in about six minutes to determine what’s going to happen with the staff.” “Well, isn’t this just the rotten cherry on top of a shitty sundae,” I muttered. “Are you still drunk?” “I’m not drunk.” “I smell wine.” I sniffed my shirt. Damn, I guess I’d spilled some wine on my laundry. But I still wasn’t drunk. Didn’t matter, if today was my last day then so be it. I had an idea anyway. If Steve Harvey could...

Driving home, I cried a river of tears as I replayed David’s so called apology. I almost missed the entrance to my building because my tears clouded my vision. I know I’d been sitting in the parking lot for a half an hour before I pulled myself out of the car. And I didn’t give a damn that it was dark outside, I covered my red rimmed eyes with a pair of sunglasses. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent the night at home. That last time that I’d fallen asleep without his arms around me. Then I wondered, when was the last time he fell asleep holding her. That motherfucker made me believe in love and crushed my hopes like a half smoked Newport. If I wasn’t afraid of jail or a random drug test, I would’ve found some smoke of my own. But I wasn’t that girl and I was not going to let him do this to me. What did men get out of playing these games? There was something that I needed to know and the answers were in the heartbreaks of the past. Maybe I did something to every man I’d ev...

Ten years ago this month, my first romance novel, Revelations , was released. I thought everyone would love it. Would send it to the top of the New York Times best seller's list.  That didn't happen. Everyone didn't love it. I didn't get glowing five star reviews on Amazon and you know what -- I was OK with that. Before I started writing novels, I had been a full time journalist. And this was before the online comments, back when disgruntled readers would call you or email you. Their comments ranged from -- you don't know what you're talking about to you're stupid.  A thick skin was developed pretty quickly. Here's what you need to know as an author -- everyone isn't going to like what you write. Even if you love it, every reader who picks up your book or downloads your ebook, is not going to like it. If someone reviews your book and it's not a five star review (I don't believe in saying positive or negative reviews because we can lear...

When Imade it to David’s place, I was overwrought. Looking over my shoulder everytime I heard a noise, felt a breeze or just felt as if something was lurking inthe shadows. I jumped, ready to pounce. Taking the elevator up to David’s, Iwondered what had I done to deserve this bullshit? Not to whine and pretendthat I’m Miss Innocent. But Karma – haven’t I suffered enough? Before Icould knock on the door, David opened it. Normally, I would’ve hugged andkissed my man. Something was different and I didn’t want my lips anywhere onhim. “What’sgoing on, Mimi?” I threwthe note under his nose. “How about you tell me? What’s going on with you andthis bitch, David?” “Nothing,not now anyway.” “Not.Now. Anyway?! The fuck does that mean?” “You needto calm down,” he said and looked at me as if I were a stranger. As if I wasthe one who had let another man fuck me and stalk him. He was the motherfuckingstranger. He was the one who made me an unwilling participant in a ménage atrois. And I needed to cal...

Love After War is coming in November. The story of Adrian Bryant and Dana Singleton is one of my favorite love stories that I've ever written. When club owner Adrian Bryant discovers his biological father is hotel magnate Elliot Crawford, his life unravels. Shunned by Crawford while he and his mother struggled, Adrian hatches a high-profile plan to destroy the Crawford name—and the reputations of his two half-brothers. But to shield the woman he loves from the hell he intends to unleash, Adrian has to let her go. Photographer Dana Singleton is heartbroken and confused by Adrian ’ s behavior. But just when she ’ s given up on their relationship, she begins to discover the truth — and a dark side of Adrian she never knew existed. A s the stakes get higher, she will have to ask herself if she can love a man who is capable of such vengeance—or if he can learn to forgive... Now allow me to pull back the cover and give you a sneak peek inside:  Chapter One The...

Sixty-six year old Paula Deen was a culinary hero to a lot of people. I was not one of them. There was always something about the buttery cake queen that I didn't like. I couldn't quite put my finger on it -- then her deposition was released. There it is ! Paula says she used the N-word because she just doesn't know what offends people. News flash, Paula, the n-word is offensive. Now her old ass senile behind wants everyone to forgive her because she's an elderly Southern lady. I call BULL! And basically, she's hoping that her age and her southern heritage will make her fans pretend that all this never happened. Here's a statement released Thursday from her legal team, via ABC :  “During a deposition where she swore to tell the truth, Ms. Deen recounted having used a racial epithet in the past, speaking largely about a time in American history which was quite different than today...She was born 60 years ago when America’s South had schoo...

Father's Day is joked about, not held in the highest of regards like Mother's Day. And if you believe the media, then it shouldn't be. When you see Dads on TV -- these days -- they're pretty clueless. Or they are invisible. Facebook is often filled with vitriol about fathers or at least the ones who aren't doing the right thing. Let me tell you, that's not what this blog post is about. I'm going to talk about SuperDad, mine. I must have been six the first time a man gave me roses. And you guessed it, they were from my Daddy. I had been the narrator of Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs, even though I wanted to be Snow White. Come on, what six year old doesn't want to be a princess? But I was the only kindergartner who could read. And I was the only one who ended up in the newspaper that week. Ha! Every Valentine's Day, my sister and I received flowers from our father -- and so did my mama. That's why roses from the average man don't impre...

I'm not the typical Army brat. My dad didn't move us around. Sadly. But because I love him and my airman nephew, I am determined to get a military themed novel done soon! Happy Hump Day!

I started to rip the note up, then a few thoughts dashed through my mind. How did this tramp know where I worked or what I drove? This bitch is crazy and David is a lying fucker. I looked around my car to make sure my tires were OK and that my paint job didn’t have any scratches. Had that whore messed with my car, I would’ve been ready to trample her fat ass. No damage, but I wasn’t taking any chances as I called the lot security. While I waited for the officer, I called David. This bastard had some questions to answer. No more nice Mimi, he was going to meet the crazy chick I’d been trying to keep under wraps. People say it takes two to ruin a relationship. God knows I’ve ruined my share. But I can officially, without a doubt, say I didn’t fuck this up. So, if this is my reward for growing and trying to be a better woman – then I want a do over.   I want to ruin this relationship. I want to accuse him of being a cheater. I want to start arguments for no reason. I want thing...

Author L.V. Lewis revisits the world of Keisha Beale and Tristan White from her Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever to increase the book from a novella to a novel! Fifty Shades of Grey meets Keisha from the block! Keisha Beale is a quarter of a million dollars away from realizing her dream of opening her own recording studio. A botched attempt at securing the funding required from venture capitalist Tristan White leaves her without many options... until Tristan White makes an indecent proposal. As Keisha navigates the treacherous environment of the billionaire's secret kinky lifestyle, she discovers surprising things about herself and unleashes demons from her past she thought were long resolved. L. V. Lewis doesn't have the means of Tristan White, but she wouldn't want readers to go away from this cover reveal empty handed, so she's giving all viewers the chance to win one (1) of three (3) gift cards ($25, $15, $10 from either Amazon, B&N, or iTunes) at the conclus...

But I didn’t run. I thought Michelle had been the one with the problem. A sane woman wouldn’t simply show up at a man’s house unannounced. Then again, I’d learn that the man who says “I don’t lie,” turns out to be the biggest liar of all. Not only was I experiencing a change in my personal life, but work turned into a war zone. Sonia and the city manager fought about every damned thing: from the amount of money spent on staples and pencils, to the audit that she refused to do. He’d ordered her to shed one third of the department’s budget. “And just how in the blue hell am I supposed to do this while keeping the quality of what we do up?” Sonia asked as I stopped in her officer after work. I was a little surprised to see that she had a small bottle of Jack Daniels on her desk. “What are you going to do?” “Retire. Go work in Gastonia, tell that prick to stick my foot so far up his ass that he can shit out my Dr. Shoals insoles.” “Whoa. How much of that stuff have you had?”...