I didn't sleep well Friday night. It had been a long, emotional week and I had felt simultaneously spent and restless. I woke up on Saturday morning, looked in the mirror and literally scared myself. Once upon a time I could stay up all night partying and start the next day looking fresh and pretty. Now that I'm in my mid-thirties the hours lost of sleep leave their mark by painting deep dark circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer can disguise (although God knows I caked that stuff on). I looked tired and drained and I wasn't happy.
Reluctantly I took my son to the morning movie matinee as I had promised him and afterward I took a moment to glance at myself in the mirror. No improvement. To top it off I was having a bad hair day. I reapplied my lipstick and fluffed my hair yet I still ended up walking away from the mirror thoroughly discouraged. Still exhausted I took my son to Starbucks so I could buy him a bagel and cream cheese and myself a large coffee. As I stood in line I tried giving myself a pep talk. Beauty, sexiness and all that stuff comes from within I told myself. If I believe I'm sexy and I can recapture that self-confidence then I WILL be sexy and pretty and all the rest of it. I repeated this to myself silently a few times and then I straightened my posture and lifted my head a little higher. I placed my order and with my son's bagel in hand I half-glided, half strutted to the nearest empty table. I am a self-confident, competent, sexy and desirable woman, I silently chanted. The man at the next table shot me a little flirtatious smile. See! I thought! It's working! My son had perched himself by the window on the other side of the cafe while we waited for my Misto so I took it upon myself to spread the cream cheese on the bagel for him. Unfortunately the cream cheese was melty and I was making a mess of it. I sat down, crossing my legs seductively. I AM sexy, damn it! I silently insisted, Even if I'm unable to correctly spread cream cheese on a bagel and don't have the foresight to grab a napkin before attempting to do so. To prove my point I sucked the cream cheese off my fingers, determined to look more hot than klutzy. I sensed that the man who had smiled at me earlier was watching me and I turned slightly to see if I was right. He was and well...
HE WAS JACKING OFF UNDER THE TABLE AT STARBUCKS!!!!
I immediately realized that I had seriously overshot my goal. I also realized that God has a twisted sense of humor. But mostly I was just irritated as hell. It had been a sucky week, I was having a bad hair day and I had just spent my morning sitting through a kid's movie I hadn't even wanted to see and now this?! Some scuzzy dude jacking off in my place of worship (aka Starbucks)?! No. Enough is enough.
I slammed my hand against the table, glared at him and in a very loud, very authoritative voice said, "Hey asshole, put your penis back in your pants right now!"
Everyone in Starbucks just sort of stopped and the man turned beet red. Who knew it would be that easy to embarrass an exhibitionist? He ran out of the cafe as he stuffed himself back in his pants and everybody at Starbucks started clapping for me. So now not only was I hot but I was a champion! A warrior against perverts everywhere! It was much easier to feel good about myself after that.
But I won't be eating cream cheese off my fingers for a while.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Admit It, You've Thought About Ending It
When I was in college I quickly established myself among a group of new friends, one of those friends was this drop-dead gorgeous girl named Loraine. She had fair skin, straight, jet black shiny hair and these sultry full lips that men never failed to notice. She was the quintessential extrovert and she made sure that not noticing her was ultimately impossible. We hung out, went to bars together (the ones we knew wouldn't card us) and groups of us would occasionally go clubbing. But eventually she started to alienate herself from the rest of our social circle. She was just a little too wild and out of control. There was something about Loraine that we all sensed was unstable and perhaps a tad dangerous. And then one day Loraine just ended it. She drove off in her car with a gun and took her own life. She never told any of us what she was planning or gave us any clue that might have given us cause to be suspicious. She wrote a note but she took it in the car with her so that none of us would see it until after she had done what she meant to do. She had been in the middle of a group project and she had secretly finished her share of it early and mailed it off to her partner the afternoon before her suicide so that her partner wouldn't be in any way inconvenienced. And of course she again made sure that by mailing it the package wouldn't be received until it was too late. She had been this boisterous and uninhibited person and her death was executed in this silent and coldly organized manner. None of us had a chance to help her. She didn't want us to.
That was a long time ago and I have admittedly not thought about Loraine in years but a few weeks ago someone else from that same social circle contacted me and through emails and phone calls we've been catching up. It took us a while to bring up Loraine's name and when we did we both fell into a rather loaded silence as we tried to use the life experience we have amassed since those college days to analyze what happened in more logical and sophisticated terms. Of course there is no way to make what happened logical. Clearly Loraine's pain had exceeded her ability to cope with it. That's the beginning and end of it. Still, it's hard not to wonder if we had missed something. If there had been some kind of sign. Should we have known that her wildness would result in a suicide? But why would we have reached that conclusion? She had a quick temper but she had never hinted at self-loathing or despair. "The whole thing was so unsettling," my friend said. "You know, I've thought about suicide before, when I was a teenager. But even when I was thinking about it I knew I'd never do it." She paused again and then asked me if I believe that everyone, at some point in their life, considered suicide. "Not necessarily all that seriously," she added quickly, "but just, you know, thought about the possibility. I sometimes wonder if more of us admitted that the thought has occurred to us those who are thinking about it seriously might feel more comfortable seeking help."
I absolutely agree with that. Perhaps there's one or two percent of the population who have never thought about it in any context but I think that the other 98% of us have at one point or another at least considered what suicide would mean. It's the ultimate what-if scenario. What if I just suddenly disappeared? What would happen then? It was the whole premise of It's a Wonderful Life and countless spin-offs. And of course most of us have come to think of suicide as the "easy way out." It's why some people say that suicide is selfish because many of us realize that while it might make things easier for the self-inflicting victim it makes life infinitely harder for everyone who has ever known them.
But I'm writing this because I think it's important that we sort of 'fess up to this secret truth. That we have, at some point, thought about it even if we never intended to really do it. Because, as my friend pointed out, if we admit that it has occurred to us then those who are seriously thinking about it will be more likely to 'fess up. It's easier to open up to people if you think that the person you're opening up to has some inkling of what you're talking about. If they think that the very fact that they are even thinking about it at all makes them weak or some kind of freak they are more likely to nurse the thought privately and possibly execute the deed quietly, as Loraine did. On the flip side it's important to know that if someone is talking to you about it they are on some level asking for help. They may not need you to help keep them alive. They may already know that they can and will take care of that part on their own. But they are asking you to help them work through the pain they're in. The hard reality is that if they really wanted to kill themselves, if they had no doubt and helping them was totally out of the realm of possibility they wouldn't be talking to you at all.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
That was a long time ago and I have admittedly not thought about Loraine in years but a few weeks ago someone else from that same social circle contacted me and through emails and phone calls we've been catching up. It took us a while to bring up Loraine's name and when we did we both fell into a rather loaded silence as we tried to use the life experience we have amassed since those college days to analyze what happened in more logical and sophisticated terms. Of course there is no way to make what happened logical. Clearly Loraine's pain had exceeded her ability to cope with it. That's the beginning and end of it. Still, it's hard not to wonder if we had missed something. If there had been some kind of sign. Should we have known that her wildness would result in a suicide? But why would we have reached that conclusion? She had a quick temper but she had never hinted at self-loathing or despair. "The whole thing was so unsettling," my friend said. "You know, I've thought about suicide before, when I was a teenager. But even when I was thinking about it I knew I'd never do it." She paused again and then asked me if I believe that everyone, at some point in their life, considered suicide. "Not necessarily all that seriously," she added quickly, "but just, you know, thought about the possibility. I sometimes wonder if more of us admitted that the thought has occurred to us those who are thinking about it seriously might feel more comfortable seeking help."
I absolutely agree with that. Perhaps there's one or two percent of the population who have never thought about it in any context but I think that the other 98% of us have at one point or another at least considered what suicide would mean. It's the ultimate what-if scenario. What if I just suddenly disappeared? What would happen then? It was the whole premise of It's a Wonderful Life and countless spin-offs. And of course most of us have come to think of suicide as the "easy way out." It's why some people say that suicide is selfish because many of us realize that while it might make things easier for the self-inflicting victim it makes life infinitely harder for everyone who has ever known them.
But I'm writing this because I think it's important that we sort of 'fess up to this secret truth. That we have, at some point, thought about it even if we never intended to really do it. Because, as my friend pointed out, if we admit that it has occurred to us then those who are seriously thinking about it will be more likely to 'fess up. It's easier to open up to people if you think that the person you're opening up to has some inkling of what you're talking about. If they think that the very fact that they are even thinking about it at all makes them weak or some kind of freak they are more likely to nurse the thought privately and possibly execute the deed quietly, as Loraine did. On the flip side it's important to know that if someone is talking to you about it they are on some level asking for help. They may not need you to help keep them alive. They may already know that they can and will take care of that part on their own. But they are asking you to help them work through the pain they're in. The hard reality is that if they really wanted to kill themselves, if they had no doubt and helping them was totally out of the realm of possibility they wouldn't be talking to you at all.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Pixie Power!
This last Saturday I met one of my girlfriends for a late brunch. A few minutes into our meal she noticed the ring on my hand. "That's so cute!" she exclaimed. "Is that Tinkerbell?" I acknowledged that it was indeed a Tinkerbell ring, a child's trinket that I picked up at a gift shop several months earlier. When it came time to pay the check I reached into my designer handbag and pulled out...a child's Tinkerbell wallet. If that wasn't enough I then reached into the wallet and pulled out my Chase credit card that features none other than, yes, you guessed it, Tinkerbell. My companion was delighted which is probably why we're friends. There are some people I know who would have felt that the Tink ring + the wallet + the credit card = serious mental illness. But this particular gal pal was charmed and when I told her that Tinkerbell had sort of become my good luck charm she totally understood. "She's such a positive figure," she said, "and she sprinkles pixie dust over everything--"
"--and makes everything better," I finished for her. Tink is also spunky. Some of the Disney's merchandise and branding downplays that aspect of her personality but anyone who has actually read Peter Pan knows that Tinkerbell, as adorable as she is, is not a pixie you want to cross. That's one of the reasons I love her. She embraces her true pixie roots which is to say that she's mischievous and a little moody. Look at Shakespeare's Titania (the Queen of the Fairies in Midsummer Night's Dream). She was moody as hell, and her husband's servant-pixie, Puck, was always up to something. In fact certain English mythology claims that the pixies went to war with the fairies, won and then drove the defeated fairies out of Somerset. Again, don't mess with the pixies. They will fuck you up.
On the other hand if you're nice to them they'll make your life so much easier and brighter. They will charm you, bring you joy and make you laugh. I like that dichotomy. I suppose I could go around wearing a ring that depicted some random pixie that bears a resemblance to the pixies that were described in ancient or medieval times but no one would recognize a pixie like that. I figure that in the 21st century Tinkerbell has usurped Titania's thrown. Tink's the current Queen of the Pixies, and she even has a major Hollywood studio doing her marketing for her. Furthermore, unlike Titania who was essentially humiliated and bested by her husband and his mischief-making helper Tink has never really lost a battle. Even Wendy, who briefly claimed Peter Pan's heart, had to eventually go back to the real world and leave Peter in Tink's eager and capable hands.
So yes, I have a Tinkerbell ring, and a Tink wallet and a Tink credit card and I even have a Tink key chain with my name on it. I don't care if people think it's cheesy, childish or stupid. I like my pixies, damn it. And every once in a while they'll sprinkle some pixie dust over me and make everything better....if only for a little while.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
"--and makes everything better," I finished for her. Tink is also spunky. Some of the Disney's merchandise and branding downplays that aspect of her personality but anyone who has actually read Peter Pan knows that Tinkerbell, as adorable as she is, is not a pixie you want to cross. That's one of the reasons I love her. She embraces her true pixie roots which is to say that she's mischievous and a little moody. Look at Shakespeare's Titania (the Queen of the Fairies in Midsummer Night's Dream). She was moody as hell, and her husband's servant-pixie, Puck, was always up to something. In fact certain English mythology claims that the pixies went to war with the fairies, won and then drove the defeated fairies out of Somerset. Again, don't mess with the pixies. They will fuck you up.
On the other hand if you're nice to them they'll make your life so much easier and brighter. They will charm you, bring you joy and make you laugh. I like that dichotomy. I suppose I could go around wearing a ring that depicted some random pixie that bears a resemblance to the pixies that were described in ancient or medieval times but no one would recognize a pixie like that. I figure that in the 21st century Tinkerbell has usurped Titania's thrown. Tink's the current Queen of the Pixies, and she even has a major Hollywood studio doing her marketing for her. Furthermore, unlike Titania who was essentially humiliated and bested by her husband and his mischief-making helper Tink has never really lost a battle. Even Wendy, who briefly claimed Peter Pan's heart, had to eventually go back to the real world and leave Peter in Tink's eager and capable hands.
So yes, I have a Tinkerbell ring, and a Tink wallet and a Tink credit card and I even have a Tink key chain with my name on it. I don't care if people think it's cheesy, childish or stupid. I like my pixies, damn it. And every once in a while they'll sprinkle some pixie dust over me and make everything better....if only for a little while.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
Thursday, March 04, 2010
When In Doubt Make The Call
Several months ago I heard a couple having an argument on my street at around 1:30 am. The man sounded pissed and belligerent and the woman sounded desperate and hysterical. In other words, while I wasn't able to make out the words the tone of the argument was troubling. When the man's voice became louder and more threatening I decided that it was time to call 911. If it really was just a verbal argument the cops would simply tell them to lower their volume and if I was right...well then the cops would hopefully take care of that too. I had only been on the line with the 911 dispatcher for about 30 seconds before the woman started screaming. I was SERIOUSLY tempted to run downstairs with a butcher knife to see if I could help but the 911 dispatcher was now peppering me with questions that I needed to answer and since I had called 911 from my landline I couldn't leave my place without disconnecting. The police were there in minutes and I heard them tell the man to get down on the ground and I sent up a quick prayer that the woman wasn't too badly injured. As I hung up the phone I wondered if any of my neighbors had called 911 too. I figured some of them must have. After all, I live in a "nice," neighborhood.
Flash forward to this last Sunday. A friend of mine's husband (who, for the purposes of this story we'll call Hero) went hiking up a very popular hiking trail. He reached the vista point where many other hikers were milling around at which point a woman casually approached him and asked in a rather calm, off-handed manner if he could look at something and tell her if it seemed "right." He glanced down the hill where she was pointing and he saw two men sitting around a teenage girl who appeared to be unconscious. Her bra was pushed up to her chin and her pants were down to her ankles. The guys seemed to be taking turns feeling her up. The woman who approached Hero explained that she and her friend had been watching this for "quite a while," and they just kept "doing stuff to her." Hero then jumped over the fence that was supposed to keep everyone on the path, scaled down the hill, got to the scene and confronted the two guys (who he could now see were getting high on crack). This led to his having to actually get in a fight with the two guys (the bruises now on Hero's face are quite obviously a badge of honor). At this point everyone on the vista was watching and someone finally did call 911. The police came and handcuffed the perpetrators and Hero until the witnesses collaborated Hero's story and the police let him go and hauled the two guys in. A helicopter airlifted the girl (who still hadn't regained consciousness) to a hospital. The woman who had originally pointed the scene out to Hero took off with her friend before the police got there.
So my friend's hubby definitely saved the day and deserves all the praise and adulation that has been heaped on him since. But WTF was up with the witnesses who SAW what was going on but didn't call the police? Like I said, this took place along a popular hiking trail in the middle of the friggin' day. No one thought, "Hmm, undressed teen not moving and being molested...maybe I should whip out my cell phone?" Even if you weren't sure if she was really unconscious, even if you mistook her for being older, even if you thought there was a slight chance that she was consenting...isn't it better to be safe than sorry? Have we really become a society of people who will eagerly scream about the broadest political issues but won't actually help a single individual in need? Or did everyone assume someone else would call?
Obviously that was an extreme example of a troubling phenomenon. But I do think we tend to be too hesitant to dial 911 these days and too frequently we DO assume someone else will do it for us. As much as I hate to admit this I've been guilty of that too. About 6 months ago I was driving up to the Bay Area and when I got a little past Santa Barbara I saw that a few of the trees on the side of Highway 101 were on fire. It wasn't a small flame and I did think...should I call the fire department? But my bluetooth had just died, I wasn't exactly sure of my location and furthermore it was right before rush hour which meant that while traffic was moving it was still significant. With trees blazing along a freeway full of cars...well, surely someone who DID know our exact location would call the fire department. I figured they were probably on their way already. 15-20 minutes later I heard it announced on the radio that a fire had JUST been reported and the fire fighters were just now arriving at the scene. I remember being shocked. It was just being reported?! How could no one have dialed 911?!
Except I was one of the people who didn't dial. It didn't turn into one of California's notorious wild fires (thank God) but I'll never make that mistake again. Whenever I see a situation that is in need of emergency workers I will plug those three little numbers into my phone. I will never assume that someone else will do what I should be doing. I hope all of you will do the same. Don't sit around second guessing yourself until it's too late and the damage is irreparable. Because whether your worried about "snitching" or just looking stupid, to be a passive bystander is to be a lesser human being. We owe it to ourselves and to our communities to be better than that.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
Flash forward to this last Sunday. A friend of mine's husband (who, for the purposes of this story we'll call Hero) went hiking up a very popular hiking trail. He reached the vista point where many other hikers were milling around at which point a woman casually approached him and asked in a rather calm, off-handed manner if he could look at something and tell her if it seemed "right." He glanced down the hill where she was pointing and he saw two men sitting around a teenage girl who appeared to be unconscious. Her bra was pushed up to her chin and her pants were down to her ankles. The guys seemed to be taking turns feeling her up. The woman who approached Hero explained that she and her friend had been watching this for "quite a while," and they just kept "doing stuff to her." Hero then jumped over the fence that was supposed to keep everyone on the path, scaled down the hill, got to the scene and confronted the two guys (who he could now see were getting high on crack). This led to his having to actually get in a fight with the two guys (the bruises now on Hero's face are quite obviously a badge of honor). At this point everyone on the vista was watching and someone finally did call 911. The police came and handcuffed the perpetrators and Hero until the witnesses collaborated Hero's story and the police let him go and hauled the two guys in. A helicopter airlifted the girl (who still hadn't regained consciousness) to a hospital. The woman who had originally pointed the scene out to Hero took off with her friend before the police got there.
So my friend's hubby definitely saved the day and deserves all the praise and adulation that has been heaped on him since. But WTF was up with the witnesses who SAW what was going on but didn't call the police? Like I said, this took place along a popular hiking trail in the middle of the friggin' day. No one thought, "Hmm, undressed teen not moving and being molested...maybe I should whip out my cell phone?" Even if you weren't sure if she was really unconscious, even if you mistook her for being older, even if you thought there was a slight chance that she was consenting...isn't it better to be safe than sorry? Have we really become a society of people who will eagerly scream about the broadest political issues but won't actually help a single individual in need? Or did everyone assume someone else would call?
Obviously that was an extreme example of a troubling phenomenon. But I do think we tend to be too hesitant to dial 911 these days and too frequently we DO assume someone else will do it for us. As much as I hate to admit this I've been guilty of that too. About 6 months ago I was driving up to the Bay Area and when I got a little past Santa Barbara I saw that a few of the trees on the side of Highway 101 were on fire. It wasn't a small flame and I did think...should I call the fire department? But my bluetooth had just died, I wasn't exactly sure of my location and furthermore it was right before rush hour which meant that while traffic was moving it was still significant. With trees blazing along a freeway full of cars...well, surely someone who DID know our exact location would call the fire department. I figured they were probably on their way already. 15-20 minutes later I heard it announced on the radio that a fire had JUST been reported and the fire fighters were just now arriving at the scene. I remember being shocked. It was just being reported?! How could no one have dialed 911?!
Except I was one of the people who didn't dial. It didn't turn into one of California's notorious wild fires (thank God) but I'll never make that mistake again. Whenever I see a situation that is in need of emergency workers I will plug those three little numbers into my phone. I will never assume that someone else will do what I should be doing. I hope all of you will do the same. Don't sit around second guessing yourself until it's too late and the damage is irreparable. Because whether your worried about "snitching" or just looking stupid, to be a passive bystander is to be a lesser human being. We owe it to ourselves and to our communities to be better than that.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
Monday, March 01, 2010
It's Just Hair
This picture was taken of me years ago at a Halloween party. The flash, the fact that the picture was scanned (not digital) plus major Halloween make-up makes me look pale and vampy. But there's another big difference between my current look at the way I look in that picture. It's my hair. It was natural.
Most people know I'm mixed so many of them assume that my currently loose curls are due to my white mother. Those people clearly haven't met my white mother or seen her rather impress Jewfro. Without product my fair-skinned, hazel eyed mother could compete with any hairstyle Macy Gray has ever come up with. And of course my father was black and had hair typical of his ancestry. So there was very little chance that I was going to have anything but tightly curled hair. A couple of hairstylists have told me that I have "good hair," which is a term used within the black community to describe hair that isn't "nappy." I'm not sure what they're talking about. Like my mother, I can make my curls more defined and rid myself of frizz with the right products but so can pretty much everybody regardless of their race. And like so many other woman with tightly curled hair I wanted to...well, straighten things out. Over the last several years I've been doing that with a relaxer.
But it's time to move on. I want natural, healthy curly hair. I've been growing out the relaxer for a little over three months now and it's time to start cutting off the straight ends.
When I tell women that I'm doing this, particularly black women, the first words that come out of their mouths are almost always "You're so brave!" I have heard those words 18 times in the last three weeks.
I'm getting a haircut. Not going to war. Yet I get what they're talking about. Cutting your hair takes an enormous amount of guts. And in the black community, wearing your hair natural at all is nothing short of a heroic (or for others, disastrous) feat. I can tell by the their tone of voice and the look in their eyes that many of these women would NEVER dare to do such a thing. To quote Tracie Thoms "To keep my hair the same texture as it grows out of my head is looked at as revolutionary -- why is that?"
I have a few ideas as to why that is. Some of it has to do with the fashion industry, some of it has to do with our preconceived perceptions of beauty, some of it has to do with insecurities, some of it has to do with the fact that as humans we always think the grass is greener on the other side. And yes, some of it has to do with racial issues. But I've found that those who have the hardest time wrapping their minds around the idea of a black woman wearing their hair natural are black women. Women of other nationalities rarely see the problem.
Personally I've done just about everything to my hair at one point or another. I've worn it natural, I've worn it incredibly short, I've worn weaves, I've had it relaxed...in other words I've mixed it up. I'm not really sure why it's a little more disconcerting to change course again this time around. Perhaps because I'm not in my 20s anymore. Your 20s are supposed to be about experimentation so why not extend that concept to your hair? Perhaps it's because right now my hair is the longest it's ever been without a weave. It took me YEARS to get it to this length and so cutting it short and starting from scratch again seems a bit more monumental. Maybe it's because people keep telling me how brave I'm being and they're beginning to freak me out!
But my longish hair isn't very healthy right now. That's partially due to stress and partially due to anemia which I was only recently diagnosed with. Stress is temporary and anemia is fixable but in the meantime I have take a deep breath and cut my loses (literally and figuratively) and work with what God gave me.
But no matter how you look at it, cutting my hair and keeping it the same texture as it grows out of my head isn't revolutionary and it shouldn't require a heroic amount of courage. I'm not making a political statement and I'm not getting plastic surgery.
It's just hair.
Kyra Davis
Bestselling Author of:
The Sophie Katz Murder Mystery Series,
and
SO MUCH FOR MY HAPPY ENDING
Pre-order Vows, Vendettas & A Little Black Dress today!
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