the c is for...

so, i’m big on the whole concept of “giving flowers while one can smell them”. in light of that fact, today’s a pretty special day, guys. she’s prolly gonna be wild embarrassed at this, but whatever i do what i want. so today is the anniversary of the birth of one of my favorite writers and dearest friends, mrs. christina c. jones.

big fact: there’d be no nicole falls w/o chrissy jones. she always downplays her impact - her influence - but i’m deadass. she was so instrumental in helping me when i got serious about writing a full project and willingly listens to my stupid ass whining every time thereafter when i keep saying i can’t do it again (spoiler alert: it’s a lie every damn time). her presence in my life is immeasurable and so, so vital, honestly. ‘tis proof that i’m outchea living as the Lort would want to be blessed with a friend of this capacity, tbh.

some of y’all may know that i do this thing with her middle initial all the time where i give her a random ass c-name or c-word as middle name despite me knowing her real middle name because it amuses me greatly. so on this good day, i’ve decided to construct an entire blog of descriptive words that start with a c that could be substituted for her middle c.

without further ado, i present -

an ode to christina c. jones: the c is for…

if you’ve ever read any of her work, i think the first c word is quite obvious—creative. like, y’all i won’t even front, you should be jealous of anyone within her inner circle that really gets to see how her mind operates because it’s just brazy to witness. this isn’t limited to writing, but everything sis puts her hands to, she puts her own unique spin on it to make it her brand of awesome. ugh, i stan.

the c is also for clever, which goes hand in hand with the creativity. turns of phrase, the visual art she creates, random ass inside jokes and one-liners all prove the depths of knowledge hidden within that big brain of hers that coalesce into magic.

the c is also for…confident. self-explanatory, honestly, but my good sis KNOWS just how amazing she is, but still remains shy of another c word (cocky). ask her and she will definitely let you know that her faith in her abilities to conquer a task she sets her mind to is always steadfast.

the c is also for…cheerful and charming and charismatic - i’ll lump these ones together because they all describe her aspects of her personality. if you’ve had the pleasure of meeting her at an event (like the lovely girlhaveyoumet that she co-hosts with the homie Alexandra Warren), then you already know. if you’ve listened to the either of the pod interviews i did with her, these qualities are all evident there as well.

the c is also for candid. sis is a huge advocate for Black romance getting its just due and doesn’t hesitate to talk her shit from time to time over on her tweeter about it. created a whole website to celebrate it. she also doesn’t hesitate to give you the real when it comes to offering her viewpoint as a seasoned author in this indie webspace via videos on her youtube channel.

i have about fiddy’lebum more c-words i could rattle off, but y’all get the point. she’s dope, mane.

so, in conclusion, to you, miss christina: i say happy mothafuckin birthday, g. thank you for being you and for being my friend. love youuuuuuu. hope your day is filled with nothing but things that bring you joy. xo.

march 2020 writing challenge day 4: ice melting

“Are you even listening to me, Kira?” Jazz’s voice broke into my wandering thoughts as I sat at the table watching the ice melting in the already watered down vodka soda I’d ordered when we first arrived.

No, I wasn’t listening to him. Hadn’t been listening to him since we’d sat down since I wasn’t even sure why in the hell I took the time out of my day to even meet him. Finding your boyfriend…well, now ex-boyfriend in bed with the woman who he’d claimed was a cousin doing some very uncousinly things tended to make it a bit hard to hear anything that was coming out of his mouth. In my mind he sounded like the adults in Peanuts cartoons – a muffled squawk with zero recognizable word sounds spewing forth...

march 2020 writing challenge day 3: fill the hour

“Relax,” Blaine whispered directly into my ear, his breath tickling my lobe, causing me to shiver involuntarily.

This was my own damned fault honestly. I’d been complaining to him about having a gap in my schedule that didn’t accommodate me being able to leave this immediate area and make it back in time for my next meeting due to the ridiculous traffic in this city. So when he’d sent me a text with an address and the simply stated message to fill the hour, I acquiesced without knowing exactly what I was getting myself into. When I’d first arrived, I was reticent to actually give into his big surprise, but after an impassioned plea for me to finally put myself first and a small glass of wine, I gave in, stripped, and donned the robe that he’d left hanging on the back of the door.

In addition to being my best friend since we were in diapers, Blaine was also a masterful masseur, having studied techniques from all around the globe before coming back here to settle and open up his shop. He’d been begging me to come back since the grand opening, but my schedule just never quite seemed to allow for it. Every time we got together he somehow managed to comment on the way I held tension in my body, encouraging me to let him work his magic on me. Fact of the matter was I’d wished that he’d wanted to put his hands on me in less of a therapeutic and more of an all-consuming, unstoppable passion kind of way, but he never saw me as that girl. Would never see me as that girl.

Which was why I was surprised when instead of putting me in the hands of one of his more than capable employees, he insisted on massaging me himself. The moment his hands met my bare skin, however, I felt myself tense instantly, knowing that this would be an exercise in serious restraint on my end.

march 2020 writing challenge day 2: natural response

I loved looking at my husband. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about him that sent my pulse racing and set off a hallelujah chorus in my love below, but in the eight years that we’d been together – four married – it had never waned. I was grateful for it, particularly as I thought about the stories I’d heard from my married girlfriends about scheduling sex and leading lives that were so busy that they always felt disconnected from their mates. Maybe Hersh and I were still in the honeymoon phase, but I’d thankfully yet to experience any of these growing pains that friends had warned me about before we jumped the broom. Prayerfully we’d never get to that point.

“Earth to Skylar, do you read me?” my friend Dru’s voice broke into my lust-filled thoughts as I watched Hersh pick her son up with one arm, effortlessly tossing him back and forth with Dru’s husband, Hank. Hank Jr. an overactive three year old who could be a holy terror unleashed was getting his entire life, screaming with laughter as he bounced from one man’s arms to the others.

I turned back to face Drucilla – my prettiest friend with the ugliest name – and her sister Ariadne. Ari’s perma-scowl was stretched across her face as usual and I wondered if the bitch ever expressed any other emotion but discontent. She wasn’t simply one of those women who suffered from resting bitch face, she was just always in natural bitch mode. Completely opposite of Dru which honestly made me wonder how they could have been raised in the same house. A compelling argument for nature versus nurture would be studying these two polar opposite women and how they came to be their adult selves. I wasn’t Ari’s biggest fan, but I suffered through her for Dru’s sake.

“Should they be tossing Lil Hank back and forth like that? That doesn’t seem safe or logical,” Ari droned, her nasally twang instantly setting me on edge. I suppressed an eye roll and clamped my lips together so I wouldn’t say anything that would start a back and forth. I’d like Dru handle her sister.

“Now Ari, do you really think my husband and child’s father would engage in any activity that he thought would bring eventual harm to the child that we worked very hard for years to conceive? Damn, do you even know how to have fun?”

“Tossing a child in the air recklessly doesn’t seem like fun to me. My natural response to witnessing something like this between my mate and child would be fear, but I mean do you.”

Dru craned her head to look around the backyard.

“What are you looking for?” Ari asked.

“Your man and child. Oh…they’re both nonexistent? Cool, you let me worry about me and mine while you keep searching for you and yours.”

Ariadne sputtered, offended, before quickly rising from the table and stomping off back into Dru and Hank’s home. Knowing her she was going right into the house to tattle on Dru to their mother who’d undoubtedly appear and bless Dru out for daring to say something to her precious baby. Dru usually teetered on the edge of control when it came to Ari, so I was surprised by this little outburst.

“Everything okay, sis?” I asked as Dru picked up her wine glass and slammed the remainder of the wine slushy that we’d been sipping on.

“I’m so fucking sick of her running commentary on everybody’s lives, but when you call her on her shit, she wants to tuck tail and run off,” Dru huffed.

She wasn’t lying. Ari had it bad for judging the hell out of people. I’d been under that scope of hers more than once in the few years that Dru and I had known one another, which was usually why I avoided coming to any gatherings where I knew she’d be present. But Hersh eagerly accepted Hank’s invite to their cookout before consulting me. This impromptu gathering was the brainchild of the men after one too many bourbons at their lil poker night they had with some of the other fellas.

“One day she’ll learn that nobody cares about her little ‘live from above it all’ ass commentary and she’ll stuff it up her ass,” Drucilla continued, way more fired up for this to have just been about what just transpired. I let her get it all off her chest though, knowing that sooner or later she’d get to the root of what her sister had done that made her go off like this.

march 2020 writing challenge day 1: within reach

A loud crash resounded through the first floor of my house. I was upstairs in the master bath, supposedly relaxing while my husband handled everything downstairs with our hella busy fourteen month old.

“I’ll be fine, love. I’ve got it all under control, cosita. Go, relax,” my husband insisted.

I’d only just settled into the piping hot bath he’d drawn for me when the noise broke me out of the zone in which I was trying to settle. I was tired, could use this respite, but I’d be goddamned if…

As soon as I made up my mind to get out of the tub and investigate the madness that I was certain was occurring below me, my husband popped his head into the bathroom, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Do not get out of that tub, Valora. You’re supposed to be relaxing,” Frankie insisted.

I rolled my eyes. “How in the hell can I relax when you and your child are downstairs doing…whatever it was that caused that noise. And where is she?”

“She’s right here,” he responded a little too quickly.

“I would like to see my child, my love,” I pressed, faux saccharine coating my words.

No one could ever say that my husband was slow on the drop because the look on his face let me know that he knew that I knew that his and her ass were up to no good.

“Mama, I help!” Giselle sang as her father finally shifted her in his arms so that the both of them were now visible.

I bit my lip to stifle the laughter that wanted to erupt as soon as I saw my baby covered in… “is that flour?”

“Um…yes. We were supposed to be making Mommy some pancakes for breakfast, but somebody got ahead of herself.”

A shit eating grin spread across Frankie’s face as Baby Gigi continued to make even more of a mess of whatever else was in the mixture that covered her hair, face, and hands.

“Give me my baby.”

“Valora, it’s fine. I’ve got this. Just keep relaxing,” Frankie insisted.

I shook my head, holding my arms out.

“You’re just going to have to clean her up anyway. Two birds, one stone, babe. Strip her and bring her over.”

Frankie grumbled something about me being stubborn under his breath but did exactly what I’d asked.

“Bubbles!” Baby Gigi exclaimed as her father lowered her into my outstretched arms.

“Only until I’m done cooking, I’ll be back for her.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, man.”

“All right, I got your whatever,” Frankie responded, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my lips before heading back downstairs.

“I kiss?” Gigi said, after Frankie pulled back from me.

 I couldn’t help but swoon a little as he pressed kisses to both of her cheeks and forehead before exiting the bathroom altogether. He was so good with her and she was one smitten kitten with her pa. I didn’t know what he was thinking with letting her help him out as he attempted to cook down there. He shoulda have just strapped her into her high chair and hooked her up with the iPad and a video that would have kept her attention instead of tryna bring lil mama into the mix. She was at the stage where she felt confident enough to destroy every damn thing that was within reach, which meant we had to keep every eye in the house on her at any time we let her roam freely. I’d already lost two pairs of AirPods, a phone case, and a shoe to Gigi the Destroyer.

Looking down into her little angelic face as she splashed and blew bubbles into the air entertaining herself, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of completeness. She’d been hard to conceive, despite her father and I trying our damndest. I squeezed her a little tighter in my arms, pressing a quick kiss to her chubby cheek before grabbing a wash cloth and wiping her down.

So much for mama’s relaxation, I thought.

happy galentine's day!

shoutout to leslie knope and the fine people of the fake town of pawnee, indiana. this fictional holiday, initiated and popularized by the former (and brilliant) NBC hit series parks &. recreation, is a day for ladies to celebrate ladies, as the episode in which it first appeared qualifies. if you’re unfamiliar with the series, leslie knope was unabashedly pro-woman and propped up the women around her (mostly…it’s questionable when it comes to her interactions with donna if i’m being perfectly honest but that’s another story for another day), rooting for their successes and triumphs.

when thinking about my own work, a compliment that i often receive is that i write women’s friendships/platonic relationships just as well as i do the ones between the heroine and hero in the projects. this is literally because i am surrounded by wonderful women who are supportive, caring, kind, and genuine. the bonds you see between my characters are very much reflective of the real life relationships i have with friends on different levels that honestly are a major part of me being able to continually do this thing called write.

it’s why cadence and celena are able to snatch devorah’s edges with love and care when she’s tripping about ellis.

or why aeryn just wants to see cali get back to happy.

or how corin and tina talk kailene into not being a scardey cat.

the bonds between the women i write are impenetrable. they’re unafraid to root for each other unabashedly, gather wigs when their homegirls are tripping, prop them up when they need a little boost. they’re full of agape love in its highest order, proving that not only is the central HEA romantic love essential in these books, but also how the love from your chosen family is just as essential to creating a life that is fulfilling.

so on today, i wanna say a special thank you to all my gal pals. because of you and your multi-faceted dopenesses, i am able to shine. love y’all.

xo.

nic