---

Delivery: Special Delivery

(See Delivery Details)

Dear Readers,

Whew, it was hard for me to even start reading this one. Reading this after Eric Jerome Dickey’s passing felt bittersweet.

I was grateful to still have his words.

But underneath that gratitude sat a quiet sadness of knowing this was one of the last times I would experience his storytelling. No more new releases. No more anticipation. Just what he left behind.

And what he left behind still delivers.

Brick stayed with me the most. He embodied a kind of masculinity we don’t always see written well, protective without being possessive, present without being controlling. He created safety. For Penny. For Christiana. For Mocha Latte. He opened his home and, more importantly, his heart. He listened. He encouraged. He didn’t judge.

That mattered.

One of the strongest themes in this book is chosen family. The idea that home isn’t always where you start — sometimes it’s who you find along the way. Under different circumstances, their lives could have unfolded completely differently. But they found belonging in each other. And there’s something powerful about that.

EJD has always had a gift. He writes in a way that pulls you inside the room. You don’t just read the scene — you feel it. You smell it. You touch it. His vocabulary challenges you. His descriptions stretch you. I’ve always loved keeping a dictionary nearby when reading his work.

And what he does especially well? He writes Black women with depth. With complexity. Even escorts; women society often reduces, are written with humanity and understanding. Never dismissed. Never flattened. Just real.

This book gave me exactly what I’ve always expected from him.

And maybe that’s the greatest compliment I can give.

Add this to your shelf

From Love,

The Letters