Love Is from Heart to Heart: Age Aint Nothing but a Number

By D. L. Davis

Delilah is a hard working divorced self employed Occupational
Therapist. She has raised two wonderful twin daughters, who
are both now in grad schoool. Delilahs contented with her
life helping inner city kids with disabilities, whose parents cant afford
long term therapy. But all that is about to change. When she meets
a younger man in the neighborhood food mart and a near encounter
with death in the parking lot, drove them together inadvertently. Life
just gets a whole lot better.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483617657

D. L. Davis

D.L. Davis is a native of Chicago Illinois, who resides in the infamous Englewood neighborhood. She loves reading, traveling, movies, music, and shooting pool, but mostly spending quality time with family and close friends.

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Copyright © 2013 by D. L. Davis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 06/06/2013

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CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

To the Creator of the universe, who takes ordinary people like myself and gifts us to do extra ordinary things. I give you praise! There are so many of you who encouraged me and believed I could hold a person’s attention through my writing. To my special one of a kind daughters Chesney and Kindra.Bryan my son (we talked a lot about ideas) To my granddaughter Kalea who was so inspired by me writing a book, that she wrote a picture book. Josh grandson, keep drawing, your talent will pay off one day. A shout out to Trameka who helped me in the early stages of this book. Dr Tambar and Dr Showalter your input on how to get published will be cherished by me always. Shelly my niece, you were my first editor

(I know I really bugged you) thanks girl. To my spiritual family who still believes in romance. Rev Mae Ruth rest in glory I know you’re proud of me. Dad thanks for wanting to read the manuscript even before it got to the publishing company. And to all my family and friends of which this page would not hold all the names !

I LOVE YALL !!

D.L.

Age ain’t nothing but a number when love is from… heart to heart.

Delilah stood in line, counting the patterns in the tile of Skeeter’s food mart for the umpteenth time while sweat trickled down her voluptuous breasts. She’d only planned to pick up a few items until she really took the time out to go to the grocery store. This was mistake number one. She should have known fate would dictate something altogether different for her today.

The temperature in Skeeter’s was about one hundred degrees; outside, the thermometers were reading a sultry eighty-five degrees. This was not a good day for the air to go out inside the store.

What’s the holdup? a guy two people in front of her shouted. Delilah felt it in every fiber of her being; these colored folk were going to start cutting up any minute if the cashier didn’t get the line moving soon. There was no way in hell, in this type of heat, that folks would be cool, calm, and collected. The brother that was shouting the expletives looked like the type who could beat a person to a pulp without even exerting himself. What kind of business was Skeeter’s running, anyhow? No air in this heat, he was asking for trouble.

Delilah glanced up again to the front of the line where the cashier and the woman ahead of them were battling it out over the price of a grocery item. You do this every time you come into the store, Delilah thought to herself as if the woman could hear her thoughts. Geez, if you can’t pay for it, don’t put it in the cart. There’s always a next time, Delilah mumbled under her breath.

Looking around at the familiar surroundings, Delilah still felt a sense of contentment; she’d lived in this neighborhood since coming to Chicago some thirty years ago. This was home, and she was proud of the area, which had really improved over the years. Except for the gang violence, which seemed to erupt every five to six years, it was actually quiet. That still didn’t give Skeeter’s the right to make his customers boil on a steamy day like this. Black folk didn’t like being inconvenienced, especially when they were spending their money in the hood where things could get out of hand real quick. Right about now, the heat was taking its toll on her. Her clothes were sticking to her like a second skin. At forty-five years old,