About You Know How To Love Me...
Chelsea Olson has always been a rebel. Growing up as the daughter of a conservative southern preacher, she never accepted his narrow-minded views, especially those about interracial dating and marriage. In fact, since high school her preference has been black men. But she’s never had a serious relationship with anyone. Then she meets Isaac “Ike” Sloane.
Ike is handsome, successful and family-oriented, everything Chelsea has ever imagined in a man, and she wants him. Will outside forces and attitudes stop them from experiencing the love they have both wanted?
Being the gentleman he seemed to be, Ike asked me to dance. Our table didn’t have a clear view of the dance floor, and I was curious to see him dance. As soon as they came back, he reached for me and invited me to join him. I took his hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice its clamminess. I’d been thinking about dancing with him since I’d extended the invitation.
My curiosity was satisfied when we joined the crowd on the multi-level dance floor, and Ike began to move. His relaxed, self-confident movements kept my gaze glued to his body. According to Bree, I was a decent dancer, for a white girl. I’d always been a quick study and learned the latest dances from my black friends. Jumping or hopping around would’ve gotten me crucified. Shelle could put anyone to shame on the floor, so I copied her. I’m sure she was aware of my mimicry, but she never let on. That’s why I loved these ladies. They understood me, and they also knew my attraction to black men wasn’t some kind of fetish. The only way I could describe it was they had a unique, mysterious quality they called flava. I found it to be so attractive. The way they walked and talked had a special rhythm white men didn’t have and couldn’t fake. Barack Obama had it. Just watching him walk off a plane or up to a podium was almost a religious experience.
I believe my interest developed when I was young, and the good Reverend Olson made it a rule that I wasn’t to hang around with the black kids. His insistence backfired on him and only made me wonder why. I set out to find out what was so awful about them. In elementary school I would intentionally walk home from school with black kids, because I wanted to hear what they talked about. Most of their conversations weren’t any different from the ones I had with my white friends with subtle differences. Like when they spoke a half-sentence or even a single word, and everybody knew what it meant but me. Eventually, I learned those nuances and became accepted as one of the group and made friends with a couple of the girls. They invited me to their houses after school, and I had to make up an excuse my mother would believe as to where I was. Mama couldn’t have cared less, but she knew she’d hear it from my father if he found out that she’d let me go. She had been born and raised in Alabama too, but she wasn’t racist.
Contemporary women’s fiction/romance author Chicki Brown has been featured in USAToday. She was the 2014 B.R.A.B. (Building Relationships Around Books) Inspirational Fiction Author and also the 2011 SORMAG (Shades of Romance Magazine) Author of the Year. Her novel, Don't Stop Till You Get Enough, was chosen as a USAToday 2016 HEA Must-Read Romance.
Nia Forrester, Beverly Jenkins, Lisa Kleypas, J.R. Ward are among her favorite authors.
A transplanted New Jersey native who lives in Atlanta, Georgia.
Blog - http://sisterscribbler.blogspot.com
Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/chicki.brown
Twitter - https://twitter.com/Chicki663
Google+ - http://plus.google.com/u/0/+ChickiBrown/
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