Good Afternoon Everyone! I’m pleased to announce that Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story is now available on Amazon. For a limited time you can purchase the paperback version for $10.99, and after Tuesday, August 13, 2019 the retail price will go up to $15.99. So Hurry and Take Advantage of this Offer by clicking on the link below!

For you kindle readers, there is a kindle version available for $9.99 ongoing. All you have to do is go to and input the title Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story and you are on your way to purchasing your copy of this steamy, entertaining novel! I promise, you will not be able to put this one down!

Then if you happen to be in Atlanta on Saturday, September 21, 2019, there will be a Meet And Greet Book Signing with the author, Anita Dixon Thomas.

Where: Cinco’s Mexican Restaurant at Perimeter Mall

Time: From 1-6pm

Purchase your copy of Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story in advance on Amazon and come out to Cinco’s Restaurant to meet the author and have your book signed

Bring your friends! There will be light refreshments, free giveaways, a brief presentation as well as a question and answer session with the author .

Limited editions of Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story will be available for purchase at the signing for the regular retail price of $15.99. Hope To See You’ll There!

Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story-Prologue


Eleven Years Earlier-July Nineteen Eighty-One

Isabelle gazed in the mirror, touching up her red lipstick. She rolled her lips, smoothing out the bright color. She looked pretty in her white lacey floor-length dress with the heart-shaped bodice cut low above the breast. The gold cross dangling around her neck was a gift from her Dad. On the dresser, in front of her, laid a pair of simulated pearl earrings with a matching necklace. Isabelle picked it up and placed it over her cross. After she hooked the jewelry in place, she slipped on her pearl earrings. Then Isabelle stepped away from the mirror to admire herself. On each side of her smooth coffee-latte face was a dangling black curl, and the rest of her hair was swept up into a loose curly bun.

Preoccupied, Isabelle stared into the mirror with sad, mahogany eyes. She was supposed to be happy because today was her wedding day. For the first time in her life, she felt unsure about her decision. She was always confident with her decisions, never second-guessing herself. However, her biggest fear she might be marrying the wrong man, and that bothered her to no end. From the moment she saw Rosette, Isabelle instantly knew he wasn’t the one. However, she liked him. He seemed to fit the bill. He was tall, handsome, a Christian and a gentleman, and he was college-educated with a great sense of humor. He had all the attributes of a life-long partner, but Isabelle felt something was missing. 

Isabelle drew in a deep breath as those thoughts weighed heavily on her mind. She entertained canceling the wedding, after all, she and Rosette only dated for ten months. Maybe, just maybe they needed more time. If they had time, perhaps she could figure out what was missing in their relationship. Isabelle flinched from the hard knock on the door and she hollered. “Come in!” 

The door swung open, and Claude Dickson, her father, walked in. He was looking handsome and dapper in his doubled breasted gray silk suit, and his smile lit up the entire room like the morning sun. Claude was six-foot-tall with a vibrant chocolate complexion, and his graying afro was cut low to his head. His dark brown eyes rested on Isabelle, and he beamed with joy. “My number one daughter, don’t you look beautiful this afternoon!”

“Thank you, Dad,” Isabelle said. Her father fondly called her his number one daughter because she was the oldest of four.

“Are you ready to take that trip down the aisle?”

“I think so,” Isabelle sighed, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Ah…what’s wrong? You’re supposed to be happy on your wedding day.” Claude came over and stood in front of her, placing his large warm hands on her shoulders. 

“Dad, I feel weird,” Isabelle said, poking out her bottom lip. “I care for Rosette, but something is missing. I’m wondering if I’m making the right choice.”

Claude looked his daughter square in her eyes and said. “You don’t have to do this. You can put this marriage on hold.”

Isabelle folded her arms and frowned.“ I know Dad, but I’ve two hundred and fifty guests out there waiting to see us get married! I can’t cancel now. It’s too late!” 

“It’s never too late. It would be best if you didn’t worry about that. Your guest will get over it. After all, it’s your life,” Claude flatly said as he let go of his daughter. He went to the sofa in front of the stain-glass window and sat. Claude drew up his right leg and rested it on his left knee. Quiet and somber, he intently studied his daughter’s face as he stroked his graying mustache.

Isabelle flattened her hand against her stomach, frowning slightly, concerned. Her eyes zeroed in on her father’s. “I thought you like Rosette! You said he’s a good man.”

“He is, but he’s not right for you, and I think you already know that,” Claude’s forehead furrowed. “If you don’t feel it’s right, don’t marry.”

 Isabelle’s eyes went round with surprise. Swallowing hard, she absorbed the seriousness of her father’s words. She marveled at how well her father knew her. He was right. She shouldn’t marry Rosette, but she didn’t want to disappoint him or their guest. So to save face, she came at her father from another angle. “Dad, I’ll be all right. It’s just cold feet,” she calmly insisted.

Claude gave her a stern, all-knowing look. “Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

“Dad….” Isabelle whined.

“Dad nothing!” Her father cut her off, unwilling to agree with her. “It’s your life! You got to live with your choices, not me, not Rosette, not those people out there! You do!”

 Isabelle hung her head. She hated when her father chastised her. “You’re right. I guess I have a decision to make.”

“You certainly do.”

 Isabelle dragged herself to the sofa and sat. She rested her head on her father’s shoulder and closed her eyes. They sat in silence for a while then the wedding march song faintly echoed through the door. “So what’s your verdict?” Claude asked, breaking the solitude.

Isabelle opened her eyes and raised her head. She looked at her father. “I guess I’m getting married,” she said. 

Claude stood on his feet and smiled. He extended his hand, and Isabelle grabbed it. She got up and followed her Dad to the door. When he opened it, the wedding march boomed overhead through the loudspeakers. Isabelle walked out first, then her father next. As he closed the door, Claude turned toward his daughter, and his lips erupted into a bright smile. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’m going to be,” Isabelle smiled back. 

“Then let’s get you married!”

 Isabelle held her head high as they walked to the sanctuary. When the usher opened the wooden doubled doors, everyone rushed to their feet. Rosette Perkins stood at the altar smiling broadly. He looked dashing in his white tux as he stood anxiously waiting for the ceremony to start. With all eyes peeled on her, Isabelle smiled. Then she slipped her left arm inside her father’s bent elbow, and together they entered the sanctuary and walked down the aisle.

Thank you for reading. If you want to know if Isabelle stay married, purchase your copy of Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story on Now by Clicking On Link Below! I promised you it will be an entertaining read!

The Struggle Is Real-An Excerpt From Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story

For over 25 years, Cafe 290 has been the hottest and coolest jazz club in the City of Atlanta. Owned by John Scatena, the club is the most respected venue for mainstream, contemporary and funk jazz. Well known, national and international jazz artists often perform there.

In Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story, Isabelle goes on a date to this famous haunt. Now embroiled in a sizzling romance with Lincoln Davis, she struggles with her conscience and Christian faith. One Sunday after church, one of the church ushers asks her out to Cafe 290 and she reluctantly accepts. Later, she tries to convince her best friend, Jinx why she agreed to the date.


Carl called on Wednesday evening precisely at eight after Isabelle had settled on the couch to watch her taped recording of  Living Color. They talked briefly and Isabelle agreed to meet him at Cafe 290 at nine in the evening on Saturday. He offered to pick her up, but she refused. Carl sounded disappointed, but Isabelle didn’t care. He was pushy. A red flag. It was best to err on the side of caution. After they hung up, Isabelle loathed her upcoming date. She wasn’t excited. It was just something to do. A way to get Lincoln Davis off her mind.

The next morning, Isabelle told Jinx about her upcoming date. Jinx understood her intentions, but she knew better.

“Girl, please,” she said rolling her hazel eyes toward the ceiling. “Do you think this man can make you forget about Lincoln? You’re fooling yourself.”

“It’s worth a try,” Isabelle said digging in her heels.

“Face it. You’re in love with Lincoln,” she shot back. “It’s written all over your face.”

Her words hit Isabelle like a ton of bricks, and she turned scarlet inside. “Maybe,” she retorted getting flustered. 

Jinx gave her a knowing look and cursed, “Maybe, my ass.”

“You’re overreacting,” Isabelle sneered back. “You exaggerate too much.”

Jinx’s laugh was sarcastic. “Girl, get a hold of yourself. This shit is not going to work, and you know it.”

“Watch me,” Isabelle said rushing to her feet. 

“Okay, but Lincoln has your heart.”

“No, he does not.”

Isabelle burned with anger. Jinx was right. She just wasn’t ready to hear it. Isabelle stomped out of her office, and Jinx came to the door. She stood in the doorway chuckling as she watched Isabelle hurry down the hall. 

“Don’t forget to call me,” she cackled after her. “I want to hear all about that date.”

Irritated Isabelle didn’t answer. Jinx’s teasing got on her nerves. Frustrated, she went to her office and sulked for the rest of the afternoon. Thank you For Reading. Comments Welcome. Order Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story On Amazon by clicking on this link below.

The Turning Point: Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story

A week before Isabelle’s romantic date with Lincoln, she witnesses a debate between co-workers on her teleworking part-time job at TLC Radio Station one evening. Impressed by his candor after being confronted by a male co-worker, Isabelle views him differently and eventually agrees to a date.

One Thursday evening, Isabelle, ten minutes late, noticed the work area was scarce of workers. Except for two women gabbing on the phone in the next aisle, the place was virtually empty. Where is everybody? Did something happen? Puzzled, she locked her handbag in the desk drawer and booked it to the break room.

Upon her arrival, Isabelle heard loud, angry voices exploding from behind the door. With her hand poised on the doorknob, she eased the door opened and looked inside. Pat, with her face puffed up like a jellyfish, was embroiled in a heated debate with Cashmere Jones. She stood over him with her hands on her hips.

Droplets of water sprayed from her lips as she shouted in his face. He slid his chair back, wiping his face with his coat sleeve, his copper-brown eyes bulging out of his head. “Woman, stop spitting on me!”

She scowled. “I didn’t spit on you!” She shoved her chair backward with her feet.

Anita Hill and Clarence Thomas were the topic of discussion and everyone in the room had gathered into a big circle. The chaotic scene looked like a boxing match between two heavy-weight fighters. Isabelle panned the room and found Lincoln sitting near the refrigerator, stroking his well-groomed mustache. He appeared introspective, deep in thought as his mocha eyes studied Cashmere.

Isabelle tiptoed in and closed the door. She settled in a chair on the back wall.

Pat, looking wolfish, kept hurling insult after insult at Cashmere. Although his name was Cashmere, there was nothing soft or luxurious about him. The dark bags under his eyes made him looked sleepy, rough, and much older than his stated age of thirty-eight. His outfit, a wrinkled black suit three sizes too big, matched the wide brim hat hanging off the side of his head. Tightly thick beaded black hair grew around his ears and temples. He looked like an old, sleazy drunk on skid road. He was three gallons of crazy in a two-gallon bucket, and his pig-headed viewpoints rubbed women the wrong way.

“Cashmere! Don’t get me to arguing and cussing with you!” Pat screamed in his face with her false teeth clicking like a softly ticking clock. “Anita Hill is not lying! The man put pubic hair in her coke for goodness sake!”

“Yeah, he also referred to his nasty ding-a-ling as his long dong silver,” hissed an angry woman with a red afro.

Isabelle cringed as she imagine pubic hair floating in a glass of coke. She scooted her chair closer to the door, ready to book at any minute. 

“She’s a temptress,” Cashmere charged with his thick lips curling. “She seduced him, and when he got some, he dumped her little ass. She got mad and came up with this cockled knuckled bull!”

Every woman in the room hissed and gnashed their teeth, popping out of their seats like jack-in-the-boxes. Spewing gross expletives out of sore mouths, they accused Cashmere of being a male chauvinist pig. Cashmere withered in his seat like a frightened little boy who just got spanked. He looked to the men around the room to bail him out, but no one volunteer.

Agony clouded his features, and he wailed in desperation, “Hey guys, help a brother out!”

With a stone face, Lincoln stood to his feet and threw up his hands. He went for the exit. “Bruh, you are on your own.”

“Man, you know I’m right!” he yelled at Lincoln.

Lincoln stopped in mid-stride and turned to face him, his eyes steely and vacant of warmth. “No, you’re not!” he said raising his heavy voice. “Clarence Thomas puts us men to shame! He’s an asshole!”

Pat screamed from her corner of the room. “That’s what I’m talking about, a man with some damn sense!”

Shouts of approval erupted around the room. Defeated and embarrassed, Cashmere scowled as he sank further in his seat. He pouted and threw his arms on his chest. 

Isabelle’s mouth gaped open. Lincoln’s response took her by surprise. His opinion, different from most men on the subject, was refreshing to her. Her view of him changed that very moment. He was strong. A true rebel. A man not afraid to stand up for his beliefs. 

Impressed, Isabelle gave him the thumbs up as he glided past her out the door. She slid out of her seat and followed him. He hadn’t gotten very far. He always took his sweet time walking with his easy swagger. 

“Lincoln!” she called out trying to keep her voice low.

He stopped and turned around and grinned when he saw her. “What’s going on?”

Isabelle strolled up to him. “You were great in there!” She smiled broadly.

“Cashmere doesn’t know what he’s talking about half of the time,” he said.

“Well, he has a closed mind. I can see why the women don’t like him,” she giggled.

Lincoln laughed.  “Baby Girl, he’s nothing but a punk in a cheap suit!”

Isabelle fell out giggling even harder. She loved his sense of humor. As they walked together, he slyly asked, “Care to get a drink this Saturday evening?”

Tickled, she fell out into a belly laugh. She couldn’t help herself. Lincoln was still trying to seduce her, only this time it was working. The corners of his lips turned up into a boyish grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, please,” she groaned. “You know what you’re doing.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Isabelle, it’s just a drink between friends.”

For a moment, she mulled over his words. She knew he was manipulative, but now she didn’t care. He was her hero. He was the man. “All right, what time and where?”

His face dropped, stunned. 

“What’s the matter?” Isabelle innocently asked.

“Are you serious about meeting me for a drink?” he incredulously asked. 

“Absolutely,” she chuckled. “Why not? We’re friends, right?”

“Mmmm…” he said with his mocha eyes grazing up and down her body as if he would like to eat her up.

“Stop it,” she giggled tilting her head back. 

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like…”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Like what?” 

“All sexy like!”

“I can’t look at you?” he asked raising his eyebrows as he invaded her personal space. She could smell the sweet scent of his lavender cologne, and her head swam. The heat radiating from his body made her quiver with goosebumps. She knew he was going to kiss her if she didn’t move out of his reach. So, she placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. “Stop it,” she said in a syrupy voice.

“Mmmmm…okay,” he grinned, still checking her out. “So, this date we’re going on, you and me, let’s meet at Paschal’s on MLK Way.”

“What time?” she asked fluttering her long black eyelashes. 

“Eight-thirty,” he flatly said.

“Eight-thirty it is,” she said in a honeyed voice.

“Good,” he said, looking pleased. He started to walk away, and Isabelle stopped him, placing her hands on her hips. Her eyes widen in an exaggerated fashion. 

“Be on time,” she warned. “If you are one minute late, I mean one minute, don’t bother coming. This girl waits for nobody.”

He cracked up laughing. “Don’t you worry, Baby Girl, I’ll be there. You can count on it.”

The Date-Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story

In this week’s excerpt from Whiskey And Merlot A Love Story, heroine, Isabelle Perkins had her first date with Lincoln Davis at La Carousel Lounge, a jazz club owned by Robert and James Paschal in Atlanta. 

 In 1960, the club with a capacity to seat two hundred patrons opened its doors next to Paschal’s, a restaurant the brothers owned. Known as Atlanta’s “jazz mecca,” top notched jazz musicians and vocalists like Ramsey Lewis, Aretha Franklin and many others performed there on a regular basis. 

Viewed as the “happening place” for the city’s African-Americans, the Pashchal Brothers also welcomed White patrons to the club, the only establishment to do so at the time. No wonder Isabelle’s love interest, Lincoln Davis selected the club for his romantic date with her. Not only was La Carousel Lounge a “happening” place, but it was a historical trendsetter for its time. Read about Isabelle’s exciting date with the handsome Lincoln Davis below. Enjoy.

Isabelle could spot Lincoln anywhere. She saw him the minute she came through the door. Lincoln looked handsome in his blue silk suit and shiny black Calvin Klein oxfords. He wore his suit well with his fine, commanding presence, and her heart fluttered with excitement. He made his way over to her, and his lips parted into a gangster grin. His swagger and handsome looks were magical to her, and Isabelle felt her knees buckle at the sight of him.

She managed to stay upright, drawing in a deep breath as she met him halfway.  

“What’s up, Baby Girl?” he greeted her, grabbing her hand. 

Goosebumps tingled up and down her arm when she touched his hand. She knew she was in deep, deep trouble. This affair was going to hurt once it was all over. However, she couldn’t stop herself. She was swept up and dazzled by his sexual charm. 

“How are you this evening?” she asked.

“Better now,” he grinned.

The music faded into a bebop rhythm, prompting a crowd to dash to the dance floor. Lincoln led Isabelle to the non-smoking section. He pulled out a chair from the table, and Isabelle sat. 

“So, what are you drinking this evening?” he asked as he scooted his seat closer to her.

“Wine,” Isabelle said with her voice quivering a little. All of a sudden, she was nervous and overwhelmed with the whole situation.

“What kinda wine?” he inquired as he gestured for the waitress to come over.

“Merlot,” she said. The waitress bounced over, took their orders, and left just as quickly. The music changed from a bebop rhythm to a slow melodic tempo, turning the atmosphere into a romantic mood. 

Lincoln leaned in closer, and she felt his hot breath on her cheek. “Care to dance?” he asked.

“No, I pass,” Isabelle replied cautiously.

“What are you so afraid of?”  

“You,” she answered in a soft voice.

“What do you think is going to happen here?” he whispered in her ear.

Isabelle shrugged her shoulders, giggling nervously. “Nothing, I guess.”

He stood, towering over her, and grabbed her hand. “Let’s dance.”

He led her to the dance floor and pulled her to him, placing his left hand firmly on her hip. He held her close, and his muscular strength made her feel vulnerable and safe at the same time.

They floated across the room as if hypnotically synced as one. The fragrance of his lavender cologne made her swoon, and she thought she would faint. He held her closer, and she felt a hard ridge pressing on her abdomen. He was hard as a rock, and his arousal inflamed her sexual desire. When she gazed into his handsome ebony face, he leaned over, and his lips were five inches from hers.

He whispered, “The problem is…if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

“Go ahead,” Isabelle boldly said with her heart pounding in her chest. “I want you too.”

She felt the gentle press of his velvety dark lips on hers. He kissed her as if she belonged to him. For a moment, she could taste the next sixty years of her life as she surrendered to his intoxicating passion. He kissed the tip of her nose and moved to her neck gently nibbling and sucking on her soft skin. Isabelle’s eyes widen, and she pushed him away. 

“No hickeys!” she scolded him.

“Okay,” he laughed. 

“Not funny!”

He backed off. “Keep your panties on. I get it.” 

He took her hand, and they returned to the table. Their drinks had arrived, and they both sat. Isabelle tasted her wine. It was smooth and dry, just the way she liked it. 

“Mmm, very good,” she purred feeling pleased. Isabelle eased back in her seat and looked at Lincoln. “Do you come here often?” 

“Been here a couple of times. It’s okay for a drink.”

“Mm-hmm,” Isabelle said. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, and he said, “I kinda like you.”

“Kinda like me? What is that?”

He leaned in closer. “Okay, I like you.” 

“This isn’t going to work. You’re married.” 


Isabelle’s mahogany eyes sharply bored into him. “What do you mean ‘so’?”

“Do not challenge me, woman.”

Isabelle reared back with her temper flaring. “Oooooooo, you got the wrong one, my brother! I will challenge you if I damn well please. Who in the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

He cracked up laughing. “You’re so cute when you get mad.”

“Oh, you think I’m cute when I get mad? Well, get ready handsome, because I’m about to get fine as hell!”

“Isabelle, calm your sexy ass down,” he chuckled with his eyebrows touching.


“Well, nothing,” he interrupted her. He stood up and extended his hand. “Let’s dance, Baby Girl. You need to calm down.”

Isabelle giggled hysterically. She loved the way he handled her. Most men couldn’t deal with her temper, but he could. Lincoln saw right through her brash exterior, and it was refreshing. She took his hand, and they danced for the rest of the evening. 

When he escorted her to her car, it was one o’clock in the morning. Before they parted, he planted a series of hot sizzling kisses on her lips and Isabelle fell for him before she even realized it. Until Next Time. Thanks For Reading. Comments Welcome. Purchase Your Copy Of This Steamy Entertaining Love Story by Clicking on the link below.

Why Atlanta Was The Setting Choice for My Latest Novel.

I moved to Atlanta in October 1989 to take a clinical social work position at Emory University Hospital.  It wasn’t long after, I became fast friends with a social worker who was embroiled in a sizzling affair with a married man. As our friendship grew, she told me about her entertaining, juicy affair, a story I thought one day would make a good romance novel. 

As a wide-eyed transplant from Seattle, I found Atlanta rich with history and quite intriguing. Not only was the city the capital of the state of Georgia, but it also was and still is the most populous, multicultural and economically driven city in the entire state. Metro Atlanta is home to 5.9 million people and it boasts the nickname “city in a forest.” The nickname stuck with the city because of it’s sprawling landscape of green vegetation and beautiful dogwood trees.

 Atlanta is home to Coca-Cola, Delta Airlines, Home Depot, AT&T, Chick-Fil-A, UPS, as well as higher learning institutions such as Georgia Tech, Georgia State, Morehouse and Spellman Colleges.  The city is notable for its role in the civil rights movement in the 1960’s. Atlanta became the meeting place for civil rights leaders such as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He met with activists at the historical restaurant Paschal’s to strategize and organized marches. Many years later, Atlanta hosted the 1996 Summer Olympics earning a reputation as an upscale city to live and work.

Atlanta, with its mild winters and hot, humid summers, rocks a beautiful skyline. Affectionately referred to as the “New York of the South”, on a clear, sunny day, the city’s skyscrapers give the area an impressive regal flair. Atlanta has many mecca offerings such as the arts, theatre, professional sports, festivals, as well as night club entertainment. The city draws thousands of visitors throughout the entire year making it one of the best places to vacation. There is always something to do in the “HOT ATL”, another affectionate nickname given to the city by the locals.

In the novel, Whiskey and Merlot A Love Story, Isabelle’s and Lincoln’s first date was at the La Carousel Lounge Jazz Club on Martin Luther King Way near downtown Atlanta. The club was housed in a popular restaurant called Paschal’s back in the day, and this is where Isabelle and Lincoln had their first date.  To read more about their romantic date, tune in next Saturday for another excerpt from Whiskey and Merlot A Love Story.  Thank-you For Reading.