My new e-book Embracing Womanhood is here!!!

Embracing Womanhood ready for download at http://www.ladyleopublishing.org/ for $2.49

Embracing Womanhood-When Dainty Lee Montgomery woke up one morning and realized the aging process had claimed her body, she didn’t take it very well. But with the love of her husband and the help of family and friends, she slowly begins to accept the aging process one day at a time and discovered a new lease on life.

Excerpt:

In my lifetime, as far as I can remember, I have never given a thought to getting older and the changes that come with it. I knew it would happen eventually, but I wasn’t concerned about it. Let me tell you for those of you who don’t know; the aging process is slow like a snail until you take notice of it. Then one day I took notice of it and damn near lost my mind. Let’s just say I didn’t take the aging process well. You can call me what you want to--vain, conceited, a narcissist—that’s fine with me, but if you are anything like me and your outer appearance means a lot to you, I know you understand my dilemma. I’ll be standing by the wayside with a box of tissues and open arms for anyone like myself.

Every morning I went through the same routine. I get in and out the shower, grab the petroleum jelly and my favorite moisturizer and mix them, and rub the combination all over my body. But this morning I pulled my pink shower cap off my head, shook my hair out, and turned around to face the mirror and gasped: “Who the hell are you? Who let you in here?” The image of the woman in the mirror didn’t answer; she stared right back at me, revealing the puzzled expression on my face. I aged and it seemed overnight. I didn’t remember looking like this yesterday morning or the day before; maybe I didn’t take a good look at my body or just wasn’t paying attention.

I gave myself the once over and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I decided to pretend the woman I was staring at wasn’t me and I analyzed her from head to toe. I could tell the woman had been beautiful at one time in her life. While she was still very pretty, her age showed in her face. The crow’s feet around her eyes looked like two Chinese fans framing them. Parentheses embraced her mouth, lips thinning.
I turned to the side and checked the image from that angle.

Her breasts had dropped; one pointed straight ahead and the other, if it were an eye, would be cockeyed. Her stomach was full and round and started the balloon effect right beneath her breast. She looked as if she was four or five months pregnant. Her thighs dimpled with quarter- sized dents invading her butt cheeks.

“You are so vain,” rasped Robert, my husband.

“Rob, you scared the hell out of me,” I said smacking his arm, grabbing my raggedy yellow housecoat off the toilet, and slipping it on trying to hide my newfound body. I was a little peeved because I had no idea of how long he had stood there watching me. This was a private moment between me and the body.

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The Author



Rae Winters is a native New Yorker and her love of romance books started at the age of ten. Many days she was locked up in the bathroom reading a book, instead of doing her chores. Rae Winters, pseudonym for D. F. Mitchell has published book reviews, short stories, and sensual poems for Dorchester Media. Her work has appeared in True Confessions, Jive, Black Confession, Black Romance, and Bronze Thrill magazines.

She studied the craft of writing at the Frederick Douglas Creative Arts Center. She also studied Fiction and Mystery writing through an on-line distance learning program. She continues to study her craft at every available opportunity. She’s currently working on several short stories including her first romance novel, and she can be reached at DFMitchell138@aol.com.

The Book



The first in Winters' Girlfriend’s Series, Unfinished Business is the story of Sydney Harris who is ten days from walking down the aisle when her fiancé, Lance Edwards, develops cold feet. He skips town taking a transfer to the Washington, D.C. office. She's devastated, but sometimes trouble is a blessing in disguise.
Two years ago, Sydney dropped handsome Phoenix Sanders, a construction worker. She believed she'd been wasting her time with him, and he wasn't serious about marriage. But when she proposes a marriage of convenience she will find out just how wrong she'd been.




Unfinished Business as well as Undeniable are available at Lady Leo Publishing.

EXCERPT of UNFINISHED BUSINESS


Nix came to the door, towel draped against his sculptured body, moisture from his recent shower dripping down his chest. He looked good enough to eat. My fantasy from yesterday’s business meeting came back in real time, as I stood there mesmerized by his body.

“Sydney, what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you, Nix.”

“Make this quick, I’ve got an early call tomorrow morning,” he said, opening the door wide enough for me to pass through.

My nose honed in on his after-shower-scent and I found myself wishing to join him in the shower as we had done many times before: showering, making love, and then showering again.

“This is a beautiful house, Nix. You just moved in?” I asked. We were surrounded by unopened boxes.

“Yeah, I moved in on Saturday.”

“May I see the house, Nix?”

He didn’t answer me, but he did shake his head which I took as a “yes.” I went exploring. The basement level was unfinished, and the main floor had a spacious kitchen, formal dining room, and a huge living room. Eagerly, I climbed the stairs to the second level, and found three bedrooms. Two of them were big enough for a nursery and a combination library-study.

I walked into his master bedroom—which was the largest of the three bedrooms. It was elegantly furnished, and the walls had crown molding.

“Is this your work? I like what you’re doing to it, celery green wall paint, and my favorite is the French doors. Where does that door lead to?”

“Sydney, did you come here to talk, or to see my new home?”

I could hear the annoyance in Nix’s voice.

“I’m sorry. You know my passion for decorating a room. I think if you put the sleigh bed against the right wall, and not the left, it will give you even more space.”

“I’m a foreman now, and I have to be in Staten Island at five A. M., so say whatever you have to say, now!”

Nix was now standing in front of me; his sherry-chocolate eyes smothered me, and stopped me in my track. I slowly backed away from him, feeling sexually threatened. He smelled so good, his chest glistened, and I wanted—no needed to touch him. I fought my inward desires, because I was wet with need, and I needed to talk to him…

Order your copy of Unfinished Business today!

Lady Leo's Blog Tour

The Author




Empress’ writing career started as the results of domestic violence. In order to escape the harsh reality of abuse she would read, True Confessions, Bronze
Thrills, Jive and the entire line of Romance Stories produced by Sterling McFadden. As she read, she realized her life was similar to the heroines in the
stories. One day, she decided to write her own romance stories. She wrote about men who were tender, affectionate and romantic. Soon she owned several
stories of her own. Empress has published on many levels. She is very proud of her accomplishments as a speaker for Prevention of Family and Domestic
Violence.

The Book




Porter Stewart teaches Greek Mythology at the university. Jorey Jeffers is the busy owner of a successful café. When Porter visits Jorey’s café she
doesn’t acknowledge his existence. Porter longs for her affections. His feelings are so intense he has realistic dreams about her. During these dreams,
Porter leaves his body and steals Jorey’s soul. Suddenly, Jorey is plagued with vivid nightmares of passionate encounters. Meanwhile, Porter continues to
call and his calls go unanswered. Jorey insists he has the wrong number.



Sorry, Wrong Number - as well as What Color is Love and My Brother’s Keeper - are all available at Lady Leo Publishing.

EXCERPT of SORRY, WRONG NUMBER


The phone continued to ring and there was no doubt--I was totally pissed. As I tossed debris I gritted my teeth and searched for the source of the dreadful ringing phone. Couldn’t he at least give me one night off? This idiot had called for a solid week, and this time, Jorey was not going to be so polite. Finally, I located the phone beneath the bed. I snatched up the phone and plopped down on the comforter. Without giving the guy a chance to speak I spoke first. “Look, Mister. You have called me every damn night this week. You are disturbing my rest! I told you--you had the wrong number.”

From the phone, a calm male’s voice said, “Believe me, I am sorry, but I simply must talk with you. Your name is Jorey, right? Jorey Jeffers.”

I gnashed my teeth. “Yes! My name is Jorey, Jeffers. I don’t know who you are and at this hour, I don’t care to know!”

“Ah, what a shame. I’m sorry to hear that.” The voice remained calm. “You do own the little café down on Compton and Third, right?”

Seething, I held the phone to my ear, stood up and impatiently paced beside the bed. “Of course I do.” As if poking the man in the chest, I pointed my finger and stabbed at the air. “I know your kind. You came in, saw me on the menu and now you’re stalking me, right?”

Although, I was angry enough to chew nails, I did notice that the voice seemed refined and well bred. His foreign accent was amazingly sexy. “Well, not really,” he haggled. “However, you can relax. I’m not a stalker. . . ”

I was not going to be swayed by a sensual male voice. After all, I was supposed to be pissed, right? “Look. I’m a very busy woman.” As if the guy was standing in my bedroom, I pulled my robe together. “I don’t even know you and you’ve gotten off to a bad start, got that.”

The voice chuckled. “I’m sorry. I guess my methods for meeting you were a bit childish.” He paused briefly. “May I start all over and introduce myself properly?”

My hair was sopping wet; droplets of water ran down the side of my face and moistened the phone. I blotted my ear with the damp towel. “Mister. You could try, but I’m a little annoyed with you right about now.”

“I didn’t mean to make you angry,” he admitted sorrowfully.

I threw my hand into the air. “Well, you did.” Water started to stream down my neck and chest. “I was just about to lather my hair when you interrupted my personal ritual.”

The voice was crisp, rich and refreshing. “I’m sorry, Jorey. God forbid I interfere with the maintenance of that gorgeous red hair. Would you at least talk with me over the phone? That’s pretty safe, don’t you think?”

“That depends.” I walked toward the window, pulled the curtains apart and peered out the blinds. For all I knew this guy could be on a cell phone directly beneath my window. “I don’t know what you could possibly want. This is not 1 800-PhoneSex.” I tried to calm my nerves and rationalize with the man. “Look, this is none of your business, but I’m coming out of a really nasty relationship. I’m trying to mend—I need my space. You do understand, right?”
After I didn’t see a car parked near the curb, I closed the curtains and sat down on the side of the bed.

The voice took on an enduring tone. “You’re coming out of a dreadful relationship? I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that. I’m too selfish.”

Although the voice was deep, sensual, and intelligent, I stood my ground. “Oh. So you have no regard for my feelings.”

The voice paused then sighed. “You’re kinda hard to please. I meant that as a compliment.”

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was getting late and I needed to shut this conversation down. “Look. I’m not in the mood for idle conversation. Plus, weirdoes call me all the time.”

The mellow voice became seductive. Almost in a whisper he uttered, “I can’t say I blame them.”

I shrugged hesitantly; his voice was pleasant—very pleasant. But, I wasn’t going to let a passionate voice influence my coveted PMS attitude. “Wel1 anyway, good night--whatever your name is?”

Being surprised, the voice droned, “Please excuse my behavior, Jorey. My name is Porter—Porter Stewart.”

Although, I was still slightly annoyed, the sensual vibrations of the voice melted over me. “If you were a gentleman you would have introduced yourself at first. Good night, Porter Stewart.”

Order your copy of Sorry, Wrong Number today!