About the Author:
I write romance books (Sci-fi and historical), for a medium-sized press (eXtasy Books/Devine Destinies) headquartered in Canada, under the pen name, P. J. DEAN.
I am an only child raised by a bringing by a single mom when it just was not done! I saw my father’s family but I was raised in the embrace of my mother’s colorful family. A jazz drummer. A trucker. Two WWII vets and other active duty family members. A numbers’ runner. A former flapper. An aspiring opera singer. A few gay uncles and aunts. All mixed in with staunchly independent women and men who took no stuff from anyone.
We had neighbors who people nowadays would label as people of “questionable repute.” I loved every minute of it. My eyes and ears soaked it up. They all forged me in the fire of their many-faceted hearts. I thank everyone of them.
Watch the HBO film Lackawanna Blues. The life the little boy leads in that film is the closest you’ll come to what mine was like. I wouldn’t change a second of it. I hope I’m doing them proud.
I write because it is my passion. When I create a story from a thought, from a dream or from something I’ve run across in a reference book, I get a rush. It’s fun and it’s challenging and it’s all mine. I write Black heroines because there are not enough of them and as a Black woman who writes romance, I do not see myself creating a heroine not in my image.
White romance authors have been putting that blue-eyed blonde chick in the spotlight since forever. They do not need me to add to it.
THE FELIG CHRONICLES of which PARADOX, book 4 in the series won 2nd runner in the Sci-fi/Fantasy category in the SWIRL AWARDS.
My Sci-fi series THE FELIG CHRONICLES has African-American Tina Cain as the main character who falls for Caucasian security expert, Nate Lowe. They join together at first for business then for love as they battle the Earth-invading Felig. My publisher is releasing book five of the series before year’s end.
My second favorite genre is the historical romance Again, finding a Black heroine in a historical romance is rare. Except for a handful of authors attempting it, the Black historical romance heroine is a unicorn. I like the challenge of making her possible and putting her in situations not tied to stereotype.
My first attempt, KINDRED AN AMERICAN LOVE STORY, earned me top honors in the Historical romance category of the SWIRL AWARDS. Despite the bigotry in the romance industry, I love what I do. I could not care less that a non-Black reader finds Black historical heroines who are NOT slaves or hookers or concubines implausible. I write my joy and do my research to capture the audience’s imagination with facts.
***KINDRED, AN AMERICAN LOVE STORY
2015 WINNER OF THE BEST HISTORICAL ROMANCE AS CHOSEN BY THE SWIRL AWARDS!***
“When they were unsure of their path in the world, they only had their love to show them the way.”
An herbalist and free woman of color, Kindred Twain and Lelaheo/Cassian Harkness, an Oneida Indian, had been inseparable since childhood, so it was no surprise to anyone when their childhood bond blossomed into love as they grew into adulthood. Neither suspected when they agreed to wait to wed until Lelaheo had completed his medical studies in Europe that they were poised on the eve of the American Revolution. Which will happen, could happen first? Raging battles sure to destroy the region? A bitter man come to settle debts with their benefactor Dr. Douglas Twain and to rip asunder all he’s built? Or will a young, British miss named Adeline determined to tear the couple apart forever, succeed first?
***This book is a HISTORICAL. It now contains an extensive glossary and a bibliography If you prefer your historicals without history, this book may not be for you.
EXCERPT FROM MY HISTORICAL KINDRED
Kindred sat with Rozina until the woman fell asleep. “Sweet dreams, Gramma.” She bent and kissed Rozina’s forehead, then exited the room quietly.
The household was partially silent. Only the ticking of the hall clock and Dr. Twain’s snoring competed for her attention. Once in her own room, she sagged wearily against the door, removed her head wrap and placed it on top of the oak chest of drawers next to the door. She did not like how Rozina was becoming listless by day’s end now. She did not like how her granny was tired all the time and rested more. It scared her. The land’s unending discord, Lelaheo’s leaving just as they were coming together … life as she had come to know it was changing. What once had been challenging was now just draining. She pushed off the door, untied and removed her apron and stripped down to her shift. She yawned and stretched, her toned, slender body, beautiful in profile, in the moonlight. As she undid her braids, she recited aloud, “Please, Lord. No more days like this one. And if you do have more, give me strength to get through them.”
“Kindred, never think that you have to shoulder burdens alone.”
Startled, Kindred grabbed up her dress. She had gotten to her room without a lamp and had not lit one when she’d entered it knowing its layout by heart. “Lelaheo!” She sucked in air loudly. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“We need to talk in depth about our situation.” He sat in the dark, in the ladder-back rocker by the window. He reached over to turn up the oil lamp. Light filled the room, illuminating all within. He rose and walked toward her. She withdrew, the door knob hitting her in the small of the back.
“Please, Lelaheo.” She held out her arm to stop his advance. “Please leave. We should not be alone together like this.”
Lelaheo pulled the dress form her grasp. He pried her from the door and swept her into his embrace.
At their contact, Kindred inhaled abruptly. Caught in his arms, clad only in her shift, she felt both vulnerable and enticing. His ample hands traveled over her, slowly, deliberately. A sudden surge of excitement coursed through her.
“Why not? My intentions are honorable.” He dropped his head down next to hers and nuzzled her ear. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the tactile. His fingers slowly peeled the straps of her shift from her shoulders, then traced their curvature and the toned muscles of her arms. His hands claimed her waist next, testing how it flowed into nicely curved hips. He shuddered imagining how it would feel to hold her as she straddled him.
“Lelaheo,” she managed faintly. Kindred, trembling at the emotions running rough shod over her, relaxed in his arms. He nibbled her ear and scattered kisses up and down her lithe neck. His actions added new dimensions to her exhilaration.
“Kindred,” he whispered against her neck.
“Love,” she breathed. “Listen to me. Stop for a moment.”
Lelaheo exhaled loudly against her throat. He ceased kissing her, but kept his hold on her hips. He pulled back a bit to look at her.
“How long will you be away?”
“A year, at least. Eighteen months perhaps.”
“What are we to do?”
“I wish you could come with me. I shall miss your eyes.” He bent his head and kissed them. “You should be right there with me in class.”
“That would be novel and ideal, but impractical. Twainhaven needs me.”
“I do too.” He frowned, his eyes trained on her, under drawn brows. “I could remain here and be a gentleman farmer.”
“And be bored.” She reached up with both hands and rubbed his face. “You were born to be a healer! And I will be by your side one day, helping you.”
“As husband and wife.” He caught one of her hands and kissed the palm.
“Are you asking for my hand in marriage?”
“And the rest of you. Will you have me?”
“Three days!” she sighed. “Not enough time.” Kindred laced her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. “Yes, Lelaheo, but will you have me?
“Yes, yes!” He declared between kisses. “You silly woman!”
“Your woman,” she breathed against his lips.
“My woman,” he stressed, claiming her mouth, crushing her to him.
As Lelaheo enveloped her, Kindred’s reasoning cautioned them to stop, but her biology craved his testing and exploring of her mind and body. She was following her granny’s advice. She was thinking with her heart. She desired him and intended to be with him completely this night. His slow, deliberate kisses should have sent her into a panic, but unexpectedly calmed her instead. On the edge of a new experience, she was strangely tranquil. As his tongue speared between her moist lips and sparred with hers, his hands strayed over the bare skin of her back and shoulders. His touch drained her of any diffidence.
Feeling no resistance on Kindred’s part, Lelaheo dispensed with Dr. Twain’s advice. No. No sprints here. More a marathon. But most of all no false starts. All of his amorous effort kept them focused on the moment.
“Kinny, Kindred, I, I want you,” he rasped. His insistent pressure along her spine, pulled her into closer contact with his groin. Her flesh under his fingertips sent ripples of delight through him. He felt himself harden. Her nearness was his undoing. He planted a kiss in the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat. At the same time, he cupped her breasts through the shift and circled his thumbs over the nipples.
Kindred swallowed noticeably. “Lelaheo, I don’t want to wait anymore.” She felt him exhale against her neck. He let loose a small hoot and lifted her off her stocking feet, crossed the room and settled her on the four poster bed.
“Kinny, from this night forward, know you are my wife.”
Where to buy:
BLOG: https://wwwdiverseviews.blogspot.com (not a typo; there is no dot after the “www”