DREAMS OFTEN DIE IN THE PROJECTS In the first book of a drama-drenched new series, four unforgettable women will do anything to escape the hood. From their front stoops at Bentley Manor, longtime residents Miz Osceola and Miz Cleo have seen just about everything and know all too well that there's no happily-ever-after in the projects. There's only the desperate need to get out by any means possible. Aishahas what every other ghetto girl envies: a loving man who supplies her with all the fashion, money, and accessories that scream "hood success." Now that her husband's in jail, Aisha may have to put something more precious than her designer gear up for sale in order to maintain her image. The cost may be too high even for her expensive tastes. Devaniknows she's found her way out of the hood when she sleeps with Tyrik, a star pro athlete. When Tyrik's calls get further and further apart, Devani's mother suggests the perfect scheme: become his baby momma. Will Devani's plans force her man to commit, or backfire with the worst of consequences? Mollyis so in love with her husband, Junior, that she doesn't care if she's the only white girl in the hood.
The title only hints at the freaky-deaky content in the first installment of a street lit series that could also qualify as urban erotic horror. In Atlanta, Bentley Manor is a cage for four young women. Aisha, whose pampered lifestyle takes a big hit after her dealer husband gets locked up, goes to dangerous lengths to keep up her ghetto fab image. Devani is single and, at her mother's direction, plans on tricking NFL star Tyrik Jefferson into marrying her by getting pregnant. Lexi has five kids by four men and hopes Luther, the man who finally married her, will buy them a house, but will his sub-par sack performance tank her dreams? Molly is the "white trash" wife of oversexed, abusive and often absentee Junior; she, like the other women, dreams of getting "up out Bentley Manor." The authors, who also publish under Niobia Bryant and Adrianne Byrd, hold back little in this cautionary tale dripping with sex, vice and yearning. (Feb.) Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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1 . this was a very good fast pace book
Posted May 02, 2010 by t howell , cape may countythe title fits the book very good read could not wait to get to the next page
January 07, 2008
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Excerpt from Desperate Hoodwives by De'nesha Diamond
Look, I don't want to keep up with the fucking Joneses. I am the Joneses. Especially when it comes to these fools living in Bentley Manor.
See me. Envy me. Want to be me.
That's all these broke, welfare heifers and food stamps-loving bitches can do for me as far as I'm concerned. Fuck 'em.
Now I'll admit when I first met my husband, at sixteen, I was living in Hollywood Court projects with my mother and two brothers, and just straight struggling. No designer clothes. No nice rides. No money. No nothing.
I used to be ashamed of my tore-up shoes and high-water pants with the faded knees. I was shy and quiet as hell, just trying to make people forget I was around so they wouldn't notice how fucked-up my gear was.
The only thing I felt I had going for me back then was my looks. Light complexion, green eyes, long hair, and a bangin' body. I had curves for days. And that's what drew Maleek Cummings to me that hot summer day in 1998.
He was a big-time drug dealer sitting behind the wheel of his green Lexus SC400. He caught my eye and motioned for me to come to him. Humph. My silly ass was so surprised that he was talking to me that I actually looked behind me first to make sure. Once I saw it was all me, I slid on a shy smile and made my way to him. A little conversation, lots of flirting, and ten minutes later he invited my grown ass to go for a ride. Damn right I got in.
We just rode around cruising the different neighborhoods. I had my window down profiling like crazy. I didn't think about the police pulling us over and maybe getting locked up because Maleek had work -- drugs -- in his car. I didn't think about someone wanting to hurt him and shoot up his ride while I was in it. I didn't think about him being twenty-one and I was just sixteen.
All I had on my mind was how lucky I was to be riding with Maleek. But I was smart about shit. I already knew that no matter how fine he said I was, no matter how many times he licked his lips like LL Cool J and gave me that I-wanna-fuck-you look, I was not giving up the goodies that easy. My momma been taught me that it was up to a woman to always make sure a man had more to give a woman than just a wet ass.
And it worked. Just two weeks later the shy girl with the raggedy clothes became Maleek's girl.
My life ain't been the same since.
From no name to name brand. Riding the bus to getting dropped off at high school in Maleek's Lexus. Being broke as a joke to laughing my fine ass all the way to the goddamned bank. From watching my momma struggle to being able to help her take care of my little brothers. I felt like the world was mine.
Six years later I went from wifey to wife.
Maleek was the kingpin and I reigned as his queen.
My only complaint was that he moved us from one bullshit apartment in Hollywood Court to another in Bentley Manor.
When he first told me to go and fill out an application, I was like, "What the fuck?"
Don't let the name fool you. Bentley Manor is a low-rise project that has seen better days. The red brick has graffiti all over it. The parking lot has more potholes than a freeway. Tiny shards of broken glass litter the street like sparkling confetti. Crackheads and dope fiends battle with the rats and roaches for prominence.
It damn sure ain't my dream of a nice home in a gated community.
Far the fuck from it.
I wanted to be in a home. My home. With my husband and my kids -- the ones I won't have until I'm thirty.
Once a week I'd drive by Whitewater Creek -- a gated community near Peachtree City -- and long for the day I'll lay around in one of those half a million-dollar homes. But Maleek didn't want to draw too much attention to himself with such a big house and neither of us working. "Let me get something legit off and poppin' first," he said as we lay in bed together smoking a blunt. "And then Whitewater Creek's yours."
So fuck it. My man's in the game moving major weight and I feel if his big, black, sexy ass was in Bentley Manor, then I'd be right up in there with him.
Shit, better me than the next bitch.
And tricks are always trying to get at my spot, but I have that shit on lock for sure. I made sure to give my man the three p's to a happy relationship: pussy, pussy, and more pussy. If the wind blew and made his dick hard I made it my business to drain that motherfucker of every last drop.
Our sex is that type of freaky-deaky, stop-before-you-give-me-a-heart-attack type of shit. There's nothing we don't do to or for each other. When it's on it's on.
Maleek taught my ass very well about what he likes and don't like. Hell, when a nigga's taking care of his wife as good as Maleek takes care of me, what's a little request for a rim shot or a hot lick of his ass?