Trust in Me. Your ability to connect to Me is there. Focus your attention on yourself, not him. The time has come for you to stop believing that your relationship with him is the only one you are worthy of.
Stop hiding behind your contrived smile. Stop crying yourself to sleep at night. Stop acting like everything is all right. Stop putting him before your children. My child, let not your heart be troubled. When you come out of your conscious coma, awaken to truth, take responsibility for your life, or next time, honestly, there won’t be a next time.
If you keep going back to him, I’ll see you soon…real soon.
Welcome to Book #1 of my new series…
The Honey Diaries
Happiness is an acquired emotion.
Pussy is sweeter than honey and more valuable than money.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
EPILOGUE
BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
PROLOGUE
Lace St. Thomas
She’s successful now. Money. Diamonds. Cars. Furs. To whom much was given, much was required. Let her tell it, and if anyone could’ve looked over her shoulder, I’m sure they would’ve agreed, not much was given unto her except grief and pain. She wasn’t different from most folks. Everybody had a story to tell. Practically rearing herself, how did she ever survive? Her entire childhood, no matter how hard she tried to please her mother, she was never good enough to measure up to her baby sister.
What good was having a parent who constantly put her down? A mother who shattered her self-esteem, never believed in her dreams, always leaving her to pick herself up every time she fell. Why was each of her lessons learned the hard way? Unfamiliar family made her feel like a stranger in her own home. Nah, growing up she never had a home. It was more like a halfway house. No amount of bricks and mortar could encapsulate a loving environment.
Maybe her father could’ve showered her with the love that her mother didn’t or simply wouldn’t, but she doubted her father knew she was alive. They could’ve exchanged breaths or broken bread at the same restaurant table at separate times. Her on Wednesday. Him on Thursday. Her life was full of unknowns. And even as a woman, she had no idea where to find her daddy. Perhaps one day she’d really try.
Flagstaff, Arizona, a town with a population of less than sixty thousand, somebody had to know…what she didn’t. His whereabouts. Without question the man who provided the seed to fertilize her mother’s egg had to be better than the henpecked man her mother had anxiously agreed to marry. Her stepfather-to-be was a virtual vagabond who’d violated her not-so-sweet sixteen innocence and changed her life forever. Inevitable change left unforgettable scars on her soul. Many cold days and sleepless nights she wished she was either dead or never born.
Oh well, by every means necessary, she did survive. The worst, she prayed, was all behind her now, specifically the two men who wanted her dead: her ex-man and her ex-boss. Because she’d never had a positive male role model, all of her exes added to the long list of reasons why she didn’t trust men. All the men in her life were satisfied as long as she gave them what they wanted. Did whatever they desired.
The johns who abused her were long gone too. Today, she was surrounded with good women she regretfully at times treated worse than…hm, let’s not dwell on the negativity that learned behavior begets. For once, everything in her life was perfect, including her new man.
For once in her life she was happy more than she was sad.
What Happens Inside of Vegas…
Is a Damn Shame
CHAPTER 1
Lace
“You’re never going to be more than a trifflin’, lyin’ lil’ slut! You make me sick! My God, I wish I woulda followed my first mind and aborted your ass instead of listening to that deadbeat lying-ass motherfuckin’ daddy of yours. I can’t believe you up in here under my nose tryna fuck my man! Why can’t you be more like your sister? Get out of my house and this time stay the hell out!” were the last words I’d heard my mother say before she slammed the door in my face.
Was she referring to my baby sister? The golden can-do-no-wrong child?
What had I done this time?
It wasn’t my fault that on my sixteenth birthday, my mother’s fiancé saw in me what most men saw: a young, cute, innocent face, a firm, cellulite-free ass, perfect, plump, perky tits, and long legs stacked with a virgin cherry that they desperately wanted to burst. Well, he wasn’t positive about the virgin part until his hard calluses, dirty hands, and jagged fingernails slipped inside my pink panties. His stale morning hadn’t-brushed-his-yellowish-brown-teeth breath exhaled in my face as he squatted in front of my pussy. He poked, probed, gazed up at me, smiled, and then said, “Aw, man. You really are a preemie,” kissing my virgin lips while checking twice for confirmation.
“Ow, you’re hurting me,” I said, shoving his forehead. As I crossed my legs, the scratches on my kitty stung worse than paper cuts.
That incident happened over thirteen years ago, but psychologically it hurts like he violated me yesterday. To this day I can’t stand men with dirty or rough hands or bad breath or yellow teeth.
“I’ma tell Mama,” my sister had said, standing in the doorway, covering her big mouth.
I snapped, “Stch. Go tell Mama ’cause I ain’t do nothing wrong!”
Truth was I was very afraid, fearing Mama would side with Don and Honey. The only reason I’d let him find out I was untouched was that my mama constantly accused me of being a whore and a slut, so I wanted to prove her wrong. My sister was the fast one, sneaking boys into her room after Mama went to sleep,