Black Queen

Is the party over at thirty-nine? Cleon doesn't think so. As he teeters on the edge of turning forty, he refuses to surrender his youthful spirit. Armed with a new computer, the latest dating apps, and an unwavering determination, he embarks on a quest to find the love that has remained just out of reach for far too long.

Join Cleon on his hilarious and heartfelt journey as he navigates the vibrant, often unpredictable world of dating for mature gay men. "Black Queen" isn't just a story; it's a reflection of our lives, filled with the ups, downs, and triumphs that come with the territory. The tricky tricks, the laughter, the heartfelt moments – it's all part of the adventure.

This book is a delightful and sometimes naughty exploration of what it means to live, love, and laugh in the later chapters of life. With a wink and a nod, "Black Queen" is a tribute to the resilient spirit of those who refuse to let age define their pursuit of happiness.

Prepare for a rollercoaster ride of laughter, love, and unforgettable moments, where characters like Rucker will make you question just how one waters their tomatoes. "Black Queen" is a must-read for mature audiences who appreciate the humor and heart that comes with the pursuit of love, no matter your age.

Excerpt 

You offer wine, soda, beer, and water. All declined with a "nah I'm cool." For a sense of propriety to prove you're not not trying to be a slut, you sit on the chair next to the sofa. You offer your name—Cleon, which you hate. You've thought of adding something in the front or back of it like Ra or Mac. Cleon has always sounded so sissyish. But Cleon Mac, that means something.
"And did I catch your name?" regretting you sound like someone from a cocktail party scene in an old black-and-white movie. You need to butch it up, you're thinking to yourself when he answers, "Diesel, n***a. Everbody calls me Diesel." 
Your mind whirls, Now did he just call me a n***a?' But you catch yourself just before the indignant girl in you speaks up. You realize he's treating you like one of his homeboys. You're Cleon Mac, baby. "Cleon Mac is that really you," you ask yourself. After a moment, it's clear "Diesel" has nothing else to say. You make small talk about how quickly he got there, what a cute wife beater he's wearing (it looks like any other athletic T-shirt) and you're about to ask for the third time if he wants anything to drink when he cuts you off and asks why are you sitting "way over there?" His legs by now are opened as wide as the couch. You ponder for a moment as a list of rules and mantras about sex on a first date flow through your head like water and go down the drain. Your pipes gurgle. You sit by him. He takes your hand and places it on his crotch and croons, "How does it feel?"

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You may enjoy these books and stories by the author:

Antoine's Double Trouble

The Smoke Detector

Roommates