YOU CAN'T KEEP A "GOOD" WOMAN DOWN . . .

She can get any man burning up her satin sheets, paying her bills, and keeping her in Dolce G and Prada. And sexy, sizzling Dior definitely doesn't "do" church or aspire to anything more than drama-free, cash-rich relationships. But charismatic Pastor Richard Allamay is one temptation she won't resist-and Dior will do anything to become the new "First Lady" of his wildly successful megachurch. Soon she's stripping away Richard's Godly principles, putting him at odds with his congregation, and throwing the lives of his insecure wife and bewildered children into turmoil. It will take a chain of events no one could have imagined-and only God could have planned-for hearts to be healed, transgressions forgiven, and one outrageous, conniving diva allotted the reward she deserves.

National bestselling authors J.D. Mason and Victor McGlothin combine their literary talents to deliver a double dose of intrigue...

Smart, sexy P.I. Vera Miles is an expert at finding people who don't want to be found. But her latest client is a rare, and possibly dangerous, exception: a handsome drifter with amnesia who believes he's killed someone--though he can't remember who or why. Is the man guilty of murder or innocent and in big trouble? With no clues, Vera takes a shot in the dark that sends her on a trail from the local diner to the medical examiner's office to the seedy digs of a street informant, all the way to the FBI. But as she gets closer to solving the mystery, Vera wonders if her client is better off without his memory...

Click Here to Read an Excerpt

Hot Off the Press It will take two acts of faith and one divine intervention to survive a troubled marriage as Marvin and Chandelle Hutchins happy union detours when buying their first home; one that she absolutely has to have but he’s positive they can't afford. Heated arguments regarding their strained finances and his sudden lack of virility in the sack forces them to question their marriage, the love they share, and if it’s worth holding on to. When Chandelle’s scheming cousin Dior falls on hard times and shows up with her luggage on their doorstep, the gloves come off and so do most of her clothes. An already rocky relationship is torn to shreds by deceitful tricks, carefully orchestrated to get Dior what she feels should be hers; Chandelle's man. “Sinful” is the most fun you’ll have rooting for a bad girl to get what’s coming to her, although she is determined to go down swinging.

Victor McGlothin is Essence and National best selling author of “Autumn Leaves”, “What’s A Woman To Do?”, “Every Sistah Wants It”, “Down On My Knees” and “Borrow Trouble”

I know it's a real question many women ask yourselves every time you and him are together then before you know it, here she comes. It’s difficult to share a good relationship with a third wheel who for whatever reason can't sustain her own love-jones. People are asking me why I wrote my next book titled "Sinful." It all started with one important question to all the ladies... would you tell your girlfriend to keep an eye on him if you had to leave town for a few days? Would you let him paint her apartment, fix something in it or hang over there without you? Would you let her come and crash at your place, if you lived with him. Think about it before you respond. Can you trust your girl with your man?

EXCERPT

“Everybody’s got a weakness,” was Dior’s muted proclamation. Then, she sighed wearily as if nothing else mattered, while staring at her ragged reflection captured by the dusty hanging wall mirror inside of the tiny room at the Happy Horizons mental care facility where she’d been sentenced for psychiatric evaluation. Dior shouted silently at the image gazing back at her. “The difference with me is,” she continued, “I claim mine and ain’t never tried to put it off on nobody else.” After sweeping her hair, in desperate need of professional attention, underneath the baseball cap her favorite cousin Chandelle had brought along at her request, Dior smirked at her tired expression, forcing an awkward smile. Her eyes seemed darker, murkier, than she remembered them but her flawless cinnamon-brown complexion and attractive dominant features hadn’t waned one iota. She was still just as fine as she was when they checked her in and took her belt and shoelaces away. “You’re a Wicker too, Chandelle,” Dior spouted adamantly. “Or else you used to be. Deep down, where it makes every bit of difference, you still are so don’t go thinking that swooping me from this giggle factory, on my early release day makes you any better than me.” Dior sighed again, turning away from the image of a troubled twenty-five year old with a pretty face. She placed the last of her personal belongings into a stolen designer travel bag and then snapped her fingers in a snooty chop-chop fashion. “Get that bag for me Chandelle before they try to hold me for the full two week bid. I wasn’t loony when that stupid judge sent me here but I swear I ain’t wrapped too tight now. Go ahead on and get that bag off the bed, its checkout time.”

“Oomph, you ain’t that crazy,” Chandelle chuckled under her breath as Dior paused to sneak another glimpse of her tightly fitted low-rise jeans in the filthy mirror she’d grown to despise. “Look Dior, you’re my girl as well as my blood but you’d have to be up in here a lot longer than eleven days for me to feel sorry enough to be your personal valet. I don’t even carry my own bags.” Dior’s failing attempt to obtain her closest friend’s pity didn’t go over well because Chandelle was one of two people who often knew her better than she did herself. The other was Dior’s fraternal twin Dooney. “I know you have issues but they have nothing to do with me,” Chandelle contended. “You’re the one who…” she began to say before realizing her own words waxed judgmental. “You right about one thing; it is way past time to get you out of here.” Chandelle, the color of ginger-peach and fashion model tall, with the looks to match stood from the cloth covered chair placed by the door. Although she tried mightily to avoid the inevitable, it was utterly impossible. She found herself primping at the chic angular hair style framing her face, in the same dirty looking glass Dior had winced at earlier. Chandelle’s stunningly beauty, beset by round brown eyes and anchored by full voluptuous lips, beamed back at her with a brilliant approving smile. “Yes, just as I suspected. Beauty knows know bounds.”

“If you ask me, they had the wrong one locked up,” Dior heckled from the hallway. “Come on cuzz, let’s get out of here. I’m hungry for some real food. Something dumped in grease.”

“Ooh, Dee. That’s the sanest thing I’ve heard all day. Let me get your bag.”

Selected as one of Borders Books Best of 2006
African American Fiction

Baltimore was in the backseat, several blocks away and frowning disapprovingly with the pretty lady on his lap, laughing her head off. Henry gawked at the woman's complexion, so white she appeared to be carved from a bar of soap. And if that wasn't bad enough, she threw her arms around Baltimore's neck, kissed him passionately and then without notice reared back and slapped his face so hard it sounded off. Pudge had been taking it all in from the rearview mirror while keeping one eye on the road.

"Ouch!" shouted Baltimore, messaging his cheek. "What was that for?"

"That's for the 'hundred you had me pay that man!" she answered him, in a common manner befitting a very common girl. "A hundred dollars is a lot of money and hard to come by too."

"How many times do I have to tell you Franchetta, don't go pushing your luck," Baltimore reprimanded her. "There are two kinds of people who get pinched, them's that's greedy and them's that stupid. Don't be stupid."

"Alright Daddy," she cooed. "I'll be on my best behavior now that you've come stumbling back around."

"Okay, let's see what a hundred' bought you, other than your freedom papers," Baltimore jested.

Franchetta slid off Baltimore's lap and wedged herself between him and Henry. She unfastened her ritzy three-quarter fur coat and pulled one expensive necklace out of her lacy panties after the next as the men looked on. Henry was speechless and Pudge nearly wrecked his taxi, twice. "Aren't you forgetting something," Baltimore said knowingly.

"Shoot, I should have known you saw that too," the woman pouted. She fished around inside a hidden compartment in the lining of her coat and came out with the store manager's wallet." Baltimore let that woman kiss him again after she handed the wallet over as a gratuitous fee for saving her. While en route to her place, Henry was so confused that he started to mist up around the eyes. Baltimore shook his head as he recited what had gone on inside the department store with the manager and how he'd pitted the man's greed against him. "Any con man worth his salt could have pulled it off if the pigeon was inspired properly," Baltimore said solemnly. "Gentlemen, I'm proud to introduce you to Miss Franchetta St. Jean, my first love. among other things and as you just seen, a first rate pick pocket." He'd neglected to leave out other pertinent vital information which allowed her to bring the others men up to speed if and when she saw fit.

"Baltimore, please tell this fool before he floods this cab with those crocodile tears," she sniped without regard to Henry's feelings.

"Okay, okay," Baltimore agreed. "Henry, Franchetta here ain't what you think, she's as black as you and me, on the inside, where it matters most." Franchetta went on tell them how her mother was Mulatto and although she didn't know her father, it had always been assumed he was a white man despite not having it confirmed or denied before she ran off from home at age sixteen. Since meeting Baltimore in lower Maryland as a young girl, she'd become quite the chameleon, learning how to wear her hair and pass for white during the day to survive while kicking up dust and devilment with her own people as soon as the sun set on the city. Another of the things neither of them mentioned straight away was Franchetta's full-time occupation. They both agreed with a sly wink that it was better to save the best for last.

Sex and the Single Sistah! Essence best-selling author does it again with passion to burn.

“It will change the way African American women deal with their men…from top to bottom.”

In this highly entertaining, uplifting page-turner from acclaimed Essence Best-selling author Victor McGlothin, a successful single mother takes a vow of celibacy…. But she has no idea that trying to be good will make her want to be so bad…

Victor McGlothin has raised the standard for Christian Fiction. "Down On My Knees" is a spiritual awakening that explores the naked truth about Sex, Celibacy, and the Single Sistah. This novel is exactly what Black women are looking for to war against carnal demons that frequently sabotage our relationships, hopes and dreams of marriage. "Down On My Knees" is Christian fiction at its best.
--Xpressions Book Club- Dallas

A single mom and busy advertising executive, Grace has been a bridesmaid instead of a bride one too many times. Not that she doesn’t have her share of admirers—not to mention lovers—but Grace has become disenchanted with casual affairs. She’s ready for a husband—and for a real father for her thirteen-year-old son, André. With a little counsel from her church minister’s wife—and a little inspiration from the sight of André’s handsome English teacher, Wallace Peters, Grace decides to keep her mind open—and her clothes on. The vow of celibacy is easier declared than done, as Grace finds herself suddenly plagued by steamy thoughts day and night. But she’s determined to triumph over that Devil no matter how hard he chases her—and chase her he will…

After a series of dating fiascos, Grace receives a call from Wallace Peters. Will the school teacher save the day? Or will André’s biological father, who mysteriously reappears after thirteen years, turn out to be Mr. Right after all? As Grace soon discovers, it’s amazing what miracles can happen once she puts her life—and her heart—in His hands…

EXCERPT

God.  It's me again- Grace.  I sure hope you're listening because I really need you to hear me tonight.  I know that you're well versed on my shortcomings concerning sins of the flesh, so I'll get right to it.  Lately, my desires have gotten the best of me.  This celibacy thing we've talked about, isn't working out quite like I'd hoped.  It seems that the harder I try to do right, the more I want to do wrong.  Not that it's an excuse it's just that I get so lonely sometimes.  I've even fooled myself into thinking that sharing a man's warm embrace could somehow satisfy those urges but it's never enough.  Eventually, I find myself wanting more and more until, well, you know the rest.  I guess what I'm saying, what I'm praying for, is some extra consideration this evening because that old feeling has me wanting to do the kinds of things I promised I wouldn't.  You know my weakness, so I'm asking for the strength to make it through the night.  Thank you God, for hearing me out.  In Jesus' name.  Amen."

St. Martin's Press
304 pages
$22.95
Hardcover
Pub Date: 12/2004
ISBN: 0-312-32197-X

Octavia Longbow is the show producer at Hot 100, Dallas' top R&B radio station and she wants what every sistahs wants.  Alphonzo, 'The Radio Gigolo' would love to give it to her but she's holding out for I. Rome- the double platinum superstar who's given her nothing but three years of hot loving and heartache.  The last time I. Rome blew into town, he left with Octavia's purse and her self-respect.  When she meets (drop dead gorgeous) Legacy Childs, after running him over with her car, she develops second thoughts about what love really means and an elaborate scheme to make Mr. Double Platinum bring back her purse.

Cee-Cee Lovely, lady deejay extraordinaire, can get any man she wants but Alphonzo has what she needs.  Watching him chase behind her best friend is hard to do and even more difficult when Truest (Muldoon) comes around.  If Truest puts her mind to it, she can be the best hairstylist and confidant a woman could hope for, unless there's a fine man involved.  Then, she becomes a crafty chameleon like Tony Tune, the morning show host with a private pleasure palace, a million dollar contract and more tricks up his sleeve than an out of work magician.

If you ever wondered what really goes on, 'Down at the Station', buckle up for a Hot 100 joy ride into the lives of the wildest deejays on the radio- from the other side of the microphone.  'What goes on down at the station, stays at the station,' until now. .

Every Sistah Wants It
by Victor McGlothin

That whole year was a real trip.  Marshall was getting with some rich white girl, Shauni Woodbridge, whom he thought had AIDS. Rorey Garland, the star quarterback, killed himself and all hell broke loose on the campus after that. I was only a sophomore then, nineteen years old and didn’t have no business off the Oklahoma reservation nor on a college yard with thirty thousand other students trying to find themselves.  Rome was just as lost as any of us until he entered a karaoke contest to impress Heretta and ending up winning the damned thing. Although she turned him down cold, there was nothing stopping him on the music front after that. He dropped out of school, worked three jobs and paid for voice and piano lessons. I was just one of his many friends, as he put it. Sprung too, just like all his other so-called friends who knew about me.”

“I. Rome had it going on back then too?” Cee-Cee openly agreed with Essence magazine’s assessment of the entertainer’s style and appeal.

“No doubt, with or without money, Isaiah Rome is simply too much man for one woman and that has always been his down fall.”

“Isaiah? That’s what I. stands for? I thought it was something cool, more street.”

“Sounds kinda corny I know and he was so down to earth in the beginning. He would write music and sing to me while I studied. ‘Said I was his muse, his hip and his hop then one day I caught him in my bed with my dorm mate from down the hall. He was busy giving her the hip hop that I supposedly inspired.” 

“Ohh, that’s so sad. What did you do about it?”

“I cried a river after my dorm mate gathered her clothes and left my room although the damage had already been done. The private pedestal I created for him was too high. Each time he’d fall off it, the harder I’d hit bottom. He didn’t care though. The man just dusted himself off and went on about his business as if nothing ever happened. Make no mistake, the pain was mine and mine alone.”

Like a trained stunt driver, Cee-Cee skillfully maneuvered the car across two busy lanes of freewheeling motorists while listening in. “Hmm, I thought you were seeing him after you finished undergrad and moved to Dallas.”

“Embarrassed as I am to say, I never stopped. I was always there no matter what. He began to do more local singing gigs then traveled from state to state. All the while, I waited. I waited through the drama resulting from several drug allegations, two bad marriages including the one he’s currently in, his baby-mama-drama and too many paternity suits to count. Humph, after the first scandal I felt sorry for him and wondered if I would have been able to stick it out had I been his first wife. After lightening struck again, I was counting my lucky stars that I wasn’t.” Octavia gazed out of the window, reflecting on what she’d spent just as much time worrying about as she had trying to forget. “My mama always told me, if you want to see the end of a relationship with a man just look at the beginning. The future is always there, in plain view.”

Hardcover:

Reading Group Guide

When a corporate diva, Janeen Hampton-Giliam meets the kind of dream man that'll make most women want to trade theirs in, a struggling marriage with a philandering husband gets even harder to maintain.

Her younger sister, Sissy, is having the time of her life playing madame in her own Law School prostitution ring until the only man who has ever given her exactly what she needed suddenly reappears only to cause more drama than she could imagine.

And then there's Joyce- the eldest of the three, who spends most of her time praying for the sins of the other two, while at the same time dealing with hidden secrets of her own.

With so many scandalous dilemas hanging in the balance, What's A Woman To Do?

What's a Woman to Do?
by Victor McGlothin

Janeen Hampton-Gilliam eased back slowly against her leather chair, crossing her shapely legs, until her long frame was comfortably cradled in it. “I sat there staring at him for hours,” she said, just above a whisper. Softly clenching her bottom lip, between her teeth, she allowed her mind to drift back to the most intimate moments of her life. It occurred several weeks ago in New York City while she attended a Real Estate Management conference.

Val, her good friend and long time assistant eagerly listened on while taking in every word as Janeen continued sharing intimately provocative thoughts. “His smooth chocolate colored skin radiated beneath the bright lights of that lecture hall. Each day I tried to get a seat with a view. I would sit a row or two behind him, usually five or six seats over. You know, far enough away to stay hidden in the shadows of my world but close enough to hang on to the fringes of his.”

“Shoot, let me close this door,” Val said anxiously, from the opposite side of the large mahogany desk. “Janeen, you sure can tell a story. It’s like getting deep into a good book without having to turn the pages. You should be a writer girl.” Val wasted no time closing the office door before locking it. If she had a do not disturb sign, it would have been hanging off the knob on the other side. As Val returned to her perch and poised herself for an earful of someone else’s business, Janeen drifted even deeper into the sensual thoughts that had her wishing for more of the catalyst, which caused them in the first place. “He was so beautifully black like a rare onyx stone, tall, tailored and smooth without trying to be. Everything about him was effortless. There were several other women who noticed that about him too. Humph, some of ‘em more than just noticed but each time he’d give ‘em the brush off with a sultry no thanx and keep right on stepping. It must have been hard for him to block the onslaught of women sling-shotting their panties and room keys at him.” Janeen smiled when that particular memory came back to her as crisp as a new dollar bill. “He was the kind of man that makes a woman wish she could trade hers in,” she added, with a slight head tilt for emphasis sake. “For four full days of that real estate conference I watched him walk, talk, take notes on one boring speech after another without seeming bothered by them when mostly everyone else was trying their damndest to merely stay awake. For those four glorious days I down-loaded him into my memory, allowed him to captivate my mind, and welcomed him to become a part of me.”

Val was so entranced by the idea of the gorgeous mystery man that she had to stop herself from drooling while catching her breath. She even had to clear her throat before she could speak. “Uh-uhh, all that heat. Whoo-weee. Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” She began fanning her face with an opened hand. “Why didn’t you say something to him? You know, go on up to the man and introduce yourself. You got it going on. I see the way men look at you around here.”

In fact, Janeen was a rather striking woman in her own right. Her smooth peanut butter colored complexion and short jet-black curly hair accentuated the deepest brown bedroom eyes imaginable. She was an attractive package by anyone’s standards.

“Oh I wanted to Val.” Janeen blushed at the compliment, thinking back. “’Almost did it once or twice but I couldn’t… out of practice I guess. But more than that, I was terrified that we might have gotten to talking and enjoyed it too much.”

“Would that have been so bad?” Val asked innocently. “Just talking sounds harmless enough.”

Janeen smiled and wrinkled her nose. “No-no-no. You don’t understand. With that kind of man, the conversation would have been superb; no doubt about that but stimulating conversation is powerful. It can take on a life of its own. I’ve seen it happen. Just talking can take you places you never intended to go and have you butt-naked before you can even remember if you packed your diaphragm.” Both women doubled over with laughter while momentarily forgetting where they were. “Can I get a witness?” Janeen added.

“Amen Sistah!” Val answered, with her hand raised in the customary testifying position.

After coming back to their senses, Val glanced at an 8X10 photograph of Janeen and her husband Raymond, of fifteen years, sitting on the nearby credenza. “That brotha you can’t seem to get off your mind sounds like the kind of man who tippin’ out was invented for,” Val suggested, with an I won’t tell if you won’t wink.

Janeen’s lips curled into a half smile. “Nah, I don’t believe in that but don’t get me wrong, I ain’t no saint. I’ve had some impure thoughts that a married woman shouldn’t.”

Val’s mouth flew opened. “Oooooh! Uhh-uh.”

“Huh, one the last day of the lecture, he came in late and took the chair right next to mine.”

“Nooooo, he didn’t?”

“I almost lost it. I was so turned on when his cologne hit me that I felt a little tingle between my legs. I could feel my nipples pushing themselves against my blouse too, probably trying to get out and introduce themselves. Before I knew what hit me, I had jumped up out of that seat and bolted for the door.

Like a small child hearing her first bedtime story, Val leaned in closer with a twinkle in her eyes as the story climaxed. “Uh… where did you go?” she whispered, from the deep throws of suspense.

“Well, I couldn’t make it to my hotel room fast enough so I ducked into the ladies room in the hotel lobby girl.”

Val’s eyes bucked with disbelief as she placed her hand over her mouth to muffle the scream she held in. “Janeen, you didn’t? Tell me you didn’t.”

“Huh, yes I did. ‘Told you that me and Ray haven’t been too cordial lately and I’m a very sensual creature, like all the women in my family.” The thought of getting that turned on over a man she’d never been with was too much for Val to fathom. She let out an unbridled shriek so loud, that co-workers outside Janeen’s spacious office took notice. “Believe me when I say this Val, if walls could talk…they’d be too ashamed to tell.”

Autumn Leaves
by Victor McGlothin

"...what do you think about the guy who delivered those roses the other day?" She spoke without realizing what was happening.

"Who, that Legacy guy?"

"Yeah, I mean what impression did you get?"

"Well, I thought he was just gorgeous. Those jeans and that pretty-boy inner-city street appeal of his, I thought he was hot. Sizzling."

Kennedy stared down into her espresso as if she were expecting to see her future in it somehow. "That's what I thought you'd say. He is handsome, I agree, and he does have this sexy way about him but he seems too nice, too normal."

"Would you listen to yourself, honey. Handsome, nice, and normal is what every sane girl wants in a man. I'd say those are the things that bubble baths and dreams are made of."

"Maybe I'm not sane then. Maybe I like the fast, furious, and dangerous type that...."

"Oh I see," Morris interjected. "A bad boy. Is that the type of dangerous you're talking about?"

"Yeah, someone who's mysteriously dangerous but good for me at the same time."

"Mysteriously dangerous but good for you. Are you kidding? There is no such thing. These days, mysterious is scary as hell and dangerous sounds like a broken heart, a penicillin shot, and a prison term."