Lookin' For Luv

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DAFINA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

All Kensington Titles, Imprints, and Distributed Lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotions, premiums, fund-raising, and educational or institutional use. Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington special sales manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 850 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10022, attn: Special Sales Department, Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

Dafina and the Dafina logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

First Dafina Trade Paperback Printing: September 2000

First Dafina Mass-market Printing: November 2001

20 19 18 17 16 15 14

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to Martha Weber, who is as much the author as I am. Thank you so much for all the work you’ve done on the book. Words could never describe how much I honestly love and appreciate you. But I guess a new house will so let’s get back to work.

Acknowledgments

First off let me thank God, for answering my prayers and fulfilling my dream of becoming an author. When times were hard and others didn’t think it possible, He alone gave me the strength to continue, and for that I give Him praise.

I can’t thank my friends and family enough for hanging in there with me during the process of writing and getting this book published. It took quite a while but it finally happened.

To Bettie: they say a mother’s love is unconditional. I know yours is. I love you.

To my grandmother, Sarah Weber: thanks for everything Nana, I love you.

To my grandmother Emma Barron: just ’cause you’re in Texas doesn’t mean I forgot you. I love you Emma.

To Harold: thanks for keeping the stores and me together. Since my Pops passed away you’ve been as much a father to me as anyone. I love you for that.

To Bob and Dot: most people are lucky to have one set of parents. I’ve been lucky enough to have two. Thanks. I love you.

Special thanks to my sister Maria, my sister Teresa, brother Kevin, Alisha Cross, Ann Murphy, Crystal Bur-son, Kim, Sharnise Wingate, Brenda Cheese, and Valerie Skinner. You read the book during its infancy and helped mold it into what it is today.

To my partners in crime: Jeff, Walter, Albert, Bryant, Stan, Chip, and Mr. T. Thanks for always being there when I needed you. Oh, by the way, I’ve taken a bit of each one of you for the characters in my next book,
Married Men
.

To my brothers Terrance and Barron: thanks for being you.

Thanks to my fellow authors who came by the stores and encouraged me to write: Grace Edwards, Shandra Hill, Van Whitfield, Kim Roby, Donna Deberry and Virginia Grant, Denise Davis-Pack and Michael Baisden.

Special thanks to Donna Hill and Robert Flemming. I couldn’t have done it without you guys.

A special high five to Anita Diggs for introducing me to my agent, Marie Brown.

To Marie Brown: thanks for being patient and putting up with my constant phone calls. You were right, of course, the publishing industry moves at its own pace. Well, you’ve done your part. Now it’s time to show you what I can do.

To Kristy Noble-Mills: thanks for a great cover.

Big thanks to that sexy voice over at Kensington, Jessica McLean, for introducing me to my editor, Karen Thomas.

To my girl Karen Thomas: I don’t think I could have ever asked for a better editor. Both professionally and personally thanks for everything. You’re a true friend. Now take some time off and relax, you deserve it.

Special thanks to my brother Jeff for the poem.

Last but not least I’d like to thank all of my customers at the African-American Bookstore. This is the book you’ve all asked for. It’s hot, funny, and has mad drama. I hope you enjoy it.

KEVIN

It was almost midnight when Kevin heard the phone ring.
Who the hell’s calling at this time of night?
he wondered. He finished his push-ups. Lifting his dark six-foot frame from the ground, he grabbed a small towel from the back of a chair and wiped the sweat off his face. Sweat glistened against his smooth dark-chocolate skin and trickled down the muscles along his broad shoulders.

“Hello?” his deep voice grumbled into the receiver.

“Kevin, is that you, baby? Lord, don’t tell me I done made a long distance call all the way to New York City and it’s a wrong number,” the voice had a strong but friendly southern accent. Kevin smiled.

“It’s me, Mama,” he answered happily.

Kevin and his mother were very close, even more so since his father died five years earlier. His mother lived in Hopewell, Virginia, where he had spent his entire childhood. She lived with his two sisters, Whitney and Phyllis. He liked to speak to his mother at least once a week to be sure she was doing all right.

“Is everything all right down there, Mama?”

“Everything’s just fine here, baby. But what about you? I expected to get that answerin’ machine of yours on account of it’s Friday night. What’s wrong, boy, you sick?” she prodded as only a mother could.

“Oh, I’m fine, Mama. I was just doin’ some push-ups, that’s all. I was just about ready to take a shower before you called.”

“Push-ups!” She laughed. “Now, Kevin, why you gonna go an’ lie to ya mama like that? I know you like the preacher knows Scripture. You got one of them New York City girls over there, don’t you?” She barely paused to take a breath. “Lawd have mercy, boy, I hope you usin’ them condoms I sent you. As much as I want some more grandchillin’, I want you married first, son. You hear me, Kevin? God knows them fast New York City girls gonna try an’ trap a good-looking boy like you.”

Holding the receiver away from his ear as his mother’s voice increased in volume, Kevin sighed heavily before interrupting. “Mama. Mama, stop,” he pleaded as she finally paused for a breath. “I don’t have a girl over here. Things are a lot different up here. Oh, and, Mama, how many times I gotta tell you? I don’t live in New York City. I live in Queens. And in Queens I’m just another guy.”

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