Ricky Wilde has long dreamed of leaving his family’s business in Atlanta and opening his own flower shop. So when a fictional godfather helps her, she seizes the opportunity and soon has her own store in Harlem. There she meets and is instantly attracted to Ezra Walker – but while the attraction is mutual, there is something that pulls her away. A secondary timeline, set during the Harlem Renaissance, provides insight into Ezra’s past. We asked Williams a few questions. Here’s what she had to say…
Q: It has been like this for the past few years the rise of dark romance novels. Why was it important to you to write about black love?
Williams: Growing up, I was obsessed with historical romance and "glamour" romance, such as Judith Krantz and Jackie Collins. But black people were never in these stories, so in my mind, I was redoing the characters with black actors and actresses. I knew even then that I wanted to grow up and write books in which we played an important role – because we are not black versions of nothing. We need to exist loud and proud in the stories that increase our love.
Question: A love song for Ricky Wilde has been invited "a love letter to harlem," which is pretty impressive for someone who lives in Brooklyn. Why did you choose it as the background for the story?
Williams: I’ve lived in Brooklyn all my adult life, and all my novels are set there. I wanted a new challenge. And modern Harlem has such a beautiful, beautiful vibe. But I’m also a huge fan of the Harlem Renaissance. I love fashion, literature, those girls and boys, all that glamor of the 1920s. I knew I wanted to weave in the Renaissance, how. So I found a Jazz Age feud that has modern implications for Ricky and Ezra.
Q: I imagine you’ve gotten to know Harlem pretty well since then. What’s one place you’d say everyone should visit?
Williams: Coffee Zion – is to best Ethiopian food I’ve had in ages.
Q: You host your dream book club: Who’s invited, what do you read and what do you eat?
Williams: We read Flowers in the attic. I’m calling all my Gen X girlfriends who inhaled this book as inappropriate applicants – and we’re eating Stouffer’s microwave pizza. Night of nostalgia of 1987 era.
