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Well, it’s Sunday and the last day of Donna Hill’s Virtual Booktour here at Sable Lit Reviews. While I am sorry to see it end, I must say I have learned a lot from Ms. Hill and enjoyed her insights a great deal.
As promised the following is the last of this weekend’s Donna Hill book excerpts. This passage is from ON THE LINE, which was published in January 2008. Enjoy it as much as I did…
There’s no special man in my life. But I keep my pipes well-tuned—like now. I wish I could tell you what his name is, but for the life of me I can’t remember.
“Hey, babe. Time to get up. Rock and roll.” I shake his bare shoulder. He groans and squints up at me. A slow smile moves across his mouth.
“Hey,” he says, his voice still thick with sleep.
We must have gotten in from the party about five this morning. Screwed until the sun came up then passed out. It was now almost three in the afternoon. Although I didn’t go on air until ten, I need my downtime to prepare—preferably alone. I use that time to go over the tons of letters and e-mails that come into the station to see which ones spark my interest, can cause the most eyebrows to be raised and still pass under the FCC radar.
“Come on, babe, I have things to do.” I call him babe so he won’t flip about me not knowing his name. Plus it sounds like I almost care.
Reluctantly he throws the sheet off and DAMN I remember why I picked him. The brother was hung and even at half-mast he looked lethal. He noticed me staring and grinned.
“Want some more?”
I think about it. “Maybe some other time. You wore a sistah out!” I grin then turn away and head to the kitchen before my carnal nature changes my mind. The sun is beaming in through the windows. I adjust the blinds, turn on the radio and listen to The Steve Harvey Morning Show. That man is a riot.
Compared to the rest of my apartment, which is pretty awesome, my kitchen would give Martha Stewart a run for her money. Stainless steel throughout, gray and white marble floors—real marble, not that stick-on stuff—double sinks and a cooking island complete with a hibachi grill. Trust me, it’s not that I like to cook or anything, I just love the look.
“Can I call you?” he asks, coming out into the kitchen while fastening his pants.
My eyes roll over him. “Why don’t you leave me your number and I’ll be in touch.” I give him my best I-promise-to-call-you smile.
“Yeah, sure.” He turns and walks away.
A few minutes later I hear the front door slam shut.
Suddenly I remember his name. Randy Temple. I shrug and sip my coffee. Don’t know why he should be offended—men do it all the time. Some man somewhere is telling a woman right now, “I’ll call you.” Yeah, right.
hm hm hm, if you haven’t already read it don’t you want to roll over to Amazon and claim your copy now?
Keep doing what you do, Ms. Hill. We thank you!
Sincerely,
Sable Lit Reviews

















