By LaConnie Taylor-Jones
March 8th, 2010

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There’s absolutely no doubt the publishing world has transitioned into the digital revolution. But have readers and authors totally embraced e-books as the new wave of reading?

Before the release of my first e-book, If I Were Your Woman, I was one of those die-hards who flat-out refused to purchase anything other than a traditional print book.  So never in my wildest dreams did I think one of my titles would end up in e-format. And truth be told, I was somewhat apprehensive about the idea at first.  My saving grace is the belief that a good story is a good story, whether it’s in electronic format or on paper.

So, which do you prefer? E-books or print books?

Until next time – stay well and be blessed,
LaConnie

ABOUT THE BOOK
Tinsel Town is about to learn a few lessons from a Southern doctor with the courage to win the heart of a man who swore no woman ever would. . . Life couldn’t be sweeter for Raphael Baptiste. He’s a lawyer turned Grammy award-winning music icon who’s admired by women all around the world. One admirer in particular is, Dr. Laney Houston, the one woman who isn’t afraid to challenge him at every turn. Make no mistake about it; challenges are something that Raphael thrives on when it comes to the fairer sex. But before he can rise to what the beautiful doctor has in store for him, Raphael is devastated by some personal news of his own that will change the course of his life — forever. But through it all – the good, the bad, and the ugly – Laney is right by his side. She isn’t deterred by Raphael’s past and bitterness over his situation because she realizes everyone comes to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.

By LaConnie Taylor-Jones
• Red Rose Publishing
• March 2010
• ISBN: 978-1-60435-608-3

Order: If I Were Your Woman

Read an excerpt!
The flight to Oakland arrived twenty minutes early. Laney stopped by the ladies room and when she came out, her heart was beating faster than normal. It had been seventy-seven days, four hours, and forty-five minutes since her last visit to Oakland. The excitement of seeing the only man she‘d ever loved was finally at hand.

Laney walked toward the baggage claim area with a stride that was a notch above a stroll. She glanced at the crowd gathered near the baggage carousel, but didn‘t see him. She‘d never responded to any man the way she had to Raphael Baptiste. Flummox was the first word that filtered through her mind the moment they met. Before she‘d entered the first grade, she knew the meaning of the word. Now she understood how it felt.

For the last ten years, she‘d been consumed with her research and never had time for a man in her life. All of her energy and passion had been channeled into continuing the investigative study her mother began before she died. She‘d been just as driven as her mother had been to discover a cure for the congenital birth defect with which she‘d been born. If the countless research hours meant another child wouldn‘t suffer the same fate, then the sacrifices she‘d made in her personal life weren‘t in vain.

Sensuality and masculinity permeated through Raphael Baptiste. Simply put, the man exuded sex. Now Laney understood why women chased after him, but it didn‘t mean she had to be one of them. She knew she was in trouble when her out-of-control hormones kicked into full gear and she fell hard for the man who‘d told her upfront he‘d never settle down with any woman.  Therein was her dilemma. A causal affair wasn‘t on her agenda. Although she loved Raphael to distraction, what he wanted wasn‘t what she desired. She wasn‘t a snob, but she‘d never sacrifice her two best friends—self-respect and dignity—in the name of love.

Laney knew it was unlike Raphael to be late for anything. Since she didn‘t own a cell phone, she headed off toward the bank of telephones a few feet away. Her steps slowed and halted altogether when she heard the familiar baritone voice call out from behind.

“Whatcha doing Red? Ignoring me, again?”

Laney gasped for air. Her heart pumped at a laborious rhythm and the sudden thud against her ribcage packed so much force it hurt.

Speechless, Laney turned and allowed her gaze to roam over a neatly trimmed five o‘clock shadow, café-au-lait skin and shoulder-length dreads. Gold hoops in each ear with layers of gold chains on one wrist would be too much on any other man. On Raphael, it was perfect. She never took her eyes off his lean carriage, which moved with graceful agility.

It wasn‘t the tailored wool slacks, cashmere sweater or Italian leather slippers that took her breath away. It was the intense masculine expression, which assessed her from top to bottom. She stood still acutely aware of the appraisal, though it didn‘t reveal appreciation or disproval. If she knew nothing else about Raphael, she knew one thing—he was a private man whose thoughts were very much his own. She tried to speak, but her words lodged somewhere between her larynx and throat. Her second attempt fared much better. “Hello, Raphael.”

Ray tsked. “You know, you‘re the only woman who calls me Raphael.”

Laney had never been particularly fond of nicknames, but the one Raphael always referred to her by caused a smile to tug at the corner of her lips. “You‘re the only man who calls me Red.”

“Oh my, God. It‘s Ray LaSalle,” a female fan screamed. She ran up to Ray, nearly knocking Laney over and held out a piece of paper and a pen. “Can I have your autograph?”

As a crowd flocked around him, Ray flashed a mega-watt gleam and honored the request. After the giddy fan skipped off, he turned to Laney with his arms folded over his chest. “See, most women call me Ray.”

“I‘ve told you before, I‘m not most women.

Oh, you got that one right, Ray thought. He‘d seen her the moment she walked into the baggage claim area, and the sight of her slammed him in the gut from twenty feet away. She‘d draped her jacket over one arm, and his intense observation was unobstructed. The silk wrap-around dress with a puffed collar stopped right above her knees. God, to be so petite she had the prettiest legs he‘d ever seen.

Ray let his gaze trail upward to her eyes. From day one, those green pools reminded him of polished emeralds. Every time he stared into them, he felt as though he were drowning. They held an unusual calmness. At times, they appeared dreamy, but with acute alertness and enormous intelligence. Occasionally they twinkled with amusement, but there wasn‘t a damn thing funny about the way she‘d ignored him all these months. He stepped forward, seizing the chance to touch her when she swayed a bit, and curved his hand around her upper arm. “You been good?”

“Yes.” Laney shuddered from his touch. His closeness brought forth the scent of his aftershave, and she called on every ounce of reserve she could muster. Her eyes locked with his. The shade wasn‘t an ordinary blue, just a slight hint of gray. Slate blue. “How about you?”

Ray stepped closer. “Good.”

They remained silent and faced each other like rival gang members about to square off over a territory dispute. From day one, she‘d captivated him from the top of her red silky hair, which ended mid-way down her back to the bottom of her tiny, narrow feet. The slow closing and opening of her eyelids was mesmerizing. Thick, long lashes swept against high chiseled cheekbones speckled with freckles, which also were scattered along her collarbone. So far, the red hue of her hair was the loudest thing about her. Her raspy voice hugged him, and the few words she‘d spoken were conveyed in a soft, genteel drawl.
“Let‘s get your luggage,” Ray said, breaking the soundless confrontation. He nodded at the baggage carousel. “How many pieces did you check?”

Laney stared up at him, but couldn‘t think clearly. “Luggage?”

Ray chuckled. “Yeah. You know the thing you put your clothes in.”

Slowly, sanity returned. There was no excuse for this type of behavior. Laney knew she should‘ve been embarrassed for staring, but wasn‘t. Then she noticed her garment bag on the black conveyor belt and headed over to get it.

Ray tried to tell her he was on it, but his brain refused to cooperate with his mouth the moment she sauntered off. He planted his feet in a firm stance and sucked in a deep breath. “Mary, mother of Jesus,” he whispered, making the sign of the cross. Laney was walking provocation. His gaze settled on her behind, which rode a tad bit high up her backside. He promised not to look too long, but couldn‘t help himself. The slow, lazy roll of her hips was breathtaking. Lord, what he wouldn‘t give… He crushed the thought and took another deep breath.

Ray stepped forward and stood next to Laney. He‘d had a few moments to get his thoughts together, but barely. Plus, it wasn‘t everyday he was in the presence of a child prodigy who‘d pioneered a medical breakthrough. The fact she‘d accomplished in ten years what usually took researchers a lifetime to achieve came as no surprise. Hell, Laney had completed college by the time he‘d even begun. Her research efforts had led to the discovery of a cure for amniotic band syndrome, the birth defect she‘d been born with. And in less than two weeks, she‘d be the youngest female physician ever to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine.

Ray allowed his gaze to roam over her profile. No, this woman definitely wasn‘t Hollywood plastered with pounds of make-up. A shiny coat of lip-gloss was it. Nor was she weighted down with multi-karat bling-bling. A pair of pearl studs was the only jewelry she wore. Pretty was the only term to describe her face, which possessed an abundance of radiance and liveliness, and easily promoted her to the category of downright sexy. Not even the absence of her index and middle fingers on her right hand detracted from her beauty. And the tiny pierced diamond on the right side of her narrow nose wasn‘t bad, either.

He‘d been so captivated, he never noticed Laney trying to lift a second piece of luggage off the conveyor belt. He reached out and caught her by the waist when the heavy weight caused her to stumble backwards. He heard her startled cry at his abrupt movement, which made her grab his forearm. His mouth went dry and sweat beads surfaced on his forehead. A thick, fierce tension stretched between them, but he wouldn‘t let go. “Red…”

Laney turned to face him. An open lust burned in his eyes. At that moment, a sharp realization hit her. He felt some of the same turmoil she‘d felt for months. The fact they stood in the middle of the airport was the only reason she babbled an apology. “I—I‘m sorry. I should‘ve—”

“It‘s all right,” Ray lied. His tone was hoarse and barely audible. He stepped back, grabbed the handle on the roller luggage with one hand and placed the other at the small of her back to guide her toward the exit door.

Never in his life had any a woman messed him up so bad he couldn‘t think straight. This wasn‘t attraction. It was a gut-wrenching emotion so foreign to him, he was scared shitless. Laney wasn‘t dangerous.

She was deadly.

Ray admitted a hardcore truth on the spot. If he wasn‘t careful, he might very well do something really stupid—like kiss bachelorhood goodbye.

Tags: African-American romance, contemporary romance, e-books, If I Were Your Woman, LaConnie Jones, LaConnie Taylor-Jones, Romance

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