Mercenary Wife – 1

Mercenary Wife – 1

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. ♥ It was a fashionable society wedding. The kind that dazed the imagination of guests and that had them talking above whispers. More »

He Knows You – do you?

He Knows You – do you?

Who better than the one who created a thing to know it? I always think to myself, I know myself. No one knows me like I know myself. No one gets me. More »

Dinner For Two

Dinner For Two

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. CHAPTER ONE  ♥  The thought of her made his heart skip. It literally did—each, and every moment, he thought of her. And he thought of More »

Body On My Doorstep

Body On My Doorstep

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. One ♣ THE jarring noise punctured my eardrums, pierced into my subconscious and destroyed my lavish sleep and picturesque dream. Damn! I hated alarm clocks. I More »

Key To My Heart

Key To My Heart

KTHH EPISODES TEN  ♣ ♥ ♣  HE rattled the iron-cast knocker that swung down the side of the gate. He hadn’t knocked first time he’d stopped by, he was doing so this More »

Key To My Heart

Key To My Heart

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. ONE ♣ ♥ ♣ THE sun was still up in the sky but shadowed by the More »

The Forgiving Lover – my 1st story

The Forgiving Lover – my 1st story

TFL: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. This was my first ever written story. I wrote it at 13—June/July of the year 1990. Then I self-edited it three months later, October 1990. More »

Unfaithful 2 – Flash Fiction

Unfaithful 2 – Flash Fiction

“How long have you been seeing him?” Again. My head reminded my battered heart to add again, but I could not muster the effort. “A month or so.” Ama didn’t look at More »

This One Night – Micro Fiction

This One Night – Micro Fiction

So yesterday Toykathy made a teasing remark on the Writers’ Guide 101 post about me writing an Erotica. Not a genre I have particular talent for but I once had my trial More »

House on the Hill

House on the Hill

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. One ₪ MOYO TRAMPED DOWN the dusty sidewalk of the two-lane highway. The evening sky More »

Kiss Me If You Can – 1

Kiss Me If You Can – 1

EPISODES: 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. Kiss me if you can. It’s the title of a Ghanaian movie, I know. Not quite original since there is Catch me if you can More »



Read Two. PART THREE  ADESE emptied the content of the last pot into the bin, then took the bin outside and came back in through the kitchen backdoor. She blew out a More »

The Marriage Ultimatum

The Marriage Ultimatum

TMU EPISODES CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ♥ He had gotten back to their hotel room and found her gone. She had taken only her handbag and phone with her. The suitcase she’d brought along More »


Trailer – Mercenary Wife

This November, a high society wedding takes place. A wedding ceremony that leaves many hearts wistful and envious.

The groom is that dream man that the 21st century Nigeria-in-economic-recession woman secretly, and for some, not so secretly, desires. A financially sturdy man with that fine combination of being a devout Christian.

The bride is the forever desire of every male with a nodding  nether member—gorgeous, sexy, with a body and heart that is now all his.

The dream wedding. The highly sought-after bride and groom. A perfect world.

But for Simon Tim-Jaja, his world is tottering into an overwhelming disaster when on the evening of his wedding day, he overhears his new bride confess that she married him only for his money. A man in love with all his heart and all that he is and to discover that he is nothing but a means to an end to the woman he loves.

For Richelle Alabrah her dream of living the good life is about to begin as she officially becomes Mrs Simon Tim-Jaja. She is a woman with her eyes solely on the prize. she’s been trained to calculate and to calculate rightly. She is body, bone and blood—the mercenary wife.

MERCENARY WIFE coming this November right on the 17th day of this sweltering month.

What does a heartbroken groom do with his MERCENARY WIFE?

Find out by tuning in on Life and Spices.com every Thursday & Sunday right before noon—unless TM says differently.

Romance with smouldering spice—Nothing hotter.

MERCENARY WIFE can love trounce greed?


Now I ask our gentlemen readers: Iyke, Jeff, Victor, Marnie (it is my greatest hope that you are male), Datoks (are you a dude?) Justice… et al, what would you do if you find out that the woman you loved, and married, only married you for your money?

And to all the sisters in da house, will you marry a man just for “the blinks”… so to speak?

Let’s share our thoughts as we await our opening day of the MERCENARY WIFE… tell someone another hot Romance is starting on Life and Spices.com this Thursday.



This Romance story will be partly dedicated to November celebrants (until the month ends) and to December celebrant until the story comes to an end. It is, by God’s grace, going to be a 10-chapter novella. Our last story for 2016… unless I can do a Christmas short story like last year.

I have also, due to my own schedule, switched posting days to Thursdays and Sundays. And I will strive to post before noon… all things being equal. First week of 2017, I will publish the 2017 LS Blog Schedule.

Y’all have a good day now *wink*

Free to be Yourself

I think one of the hardest things to be most times is YOURSELF. And that is weird, and possibly troubling, because being yourself should be the easiest thing to be. I mean, like how hard can it be to be me, hmm? But it is hard; and it is made hard because there are so many, too many, people, rules, thoughts, religious doctrines, fashion-forward ideas, parental and societal obligations, telling you who you ought to be.

This morning, during our family prayer and whilst studying The Word For Today, we came across this teaching from Bob Gass and I thought to share it as it reminds you and me that there is only one person we can be, and God wants you being: Yourself.

Hope you will be blessed by this message.

“So if the Son makes you free, then you are unquestionably free.” John 8:36 (Amplified Version)

We live in a world of peer pressure. Others set the standard and we wear it, drive it, quote it or do it. In some cases that’s okay, but not when it comes to your life’s direction. Jesus said, “If the Son makes you free, then you are unquestionably free” (John 8:36 AMP). That means you’re free from the pressures others try to put on you; free to be the person God called you to be; free to look to him for answers instead of always looking to other people. The Bible says, “A man can receive nothing… unless it has been granted to him from Heaven” (John 3:27 AMP).

When you scratch the surface, you discover that deep down many of us struggle with insecurity. We’re competitive, always comparing ourselves to others. We’re envious of their possessions, abilities, and accomplishments. We find ourselves trying to keep up with certain people, or be just like them. And as a result we get frustrated because we’re operating outside of what God called us to be. In other words, we’re not being ourselves!

Understand this: The Christian life is a race, and you must run on your own track. You’ll never enjoy the fullness of God’s blessing until you commit to being the person he created you to be. So look in the mirror today and announce, ‘I am what I am. I can’t be anything other than what God has called me to be. So I’m going to concentrate on being the best me I can be — and celebrate every moment of it.’


Culled From The Word For Today by Bob Gass.


BTG – Blood of the Innocent 9



“All that glitters is not gold.” Shakespeare.


DEATH had struck again. It had started with their parents. Taking their mother first, and then even before the full year was over, it took their father. Then barely three years after, it took little Jamuike. And now, another year past, it had taken her sister. Taken Chizu. Death had come in the form of an overdose of sleeping pills and had taken Chizu.

Chizu was dead. She was gone. It seemed so implausible that she had seen her only hours before—before death had visited her. It seemed incredible that only some short time ago, she had had a sister, yet now she had none. Her only sister was gone. Dead.

Chizu, who had been led astray. Chizu, who had craved so much, had so little and then lost the much she’d wrongly acquired. Chizu, who had, because of her insatiable desires, allowed her hands to be tainted with blood. Chizu, who had been gentle and kind and loving and—dutiful.

Nkem could not still believe it. That her sister had killed, or had allowed, her son to be killed. Slaughtered for wealth. It was harder to believe than the ugly fact that she had taken her life on the very same day she had come to her and confessed all.


I am completely disappointed. And I think my disappointment begins with myself.

I am of the belief that Literature, in all its format — Fiction and Non-Fiction — is ART. And Art should be critiqued not “voted”.  Literature as an Art should be critiqued by literary experts and not exposed to the “general voting public” and the Artists (Writers) subjected to the indignity of having to beg for votes.


Etisalat just turned Art into a thing of ridicule. I say this without the merest apology.

I have once said it, and on a public site, that I would not enter a writing competition because it is ridiculous that as a Writer, I should write a story (a work of art) and then insult that art by “begging” for votes to have it win a prize. I said it publicly because that was, and still remains, my unapologetic belief.

But for the crave for a platform to take my penname “TM David-West” and my works to the next level, so to speak, and the desire to win a “lump sum”, I shovelled down that belief, and my principle, and I entered my story for the Etisalat Flash Fiction Prize. And in the last two days, I have been proven correct in my belief, Literature is Art and Art can only be critiqued. And it is erroneous to consider it, and to treat it, as anything but Art.

For heavens’s sake! Are we to believe that it is the “best stories” that are being voted for??? Hell no!!!

It is the stories written by Writers with more “voting crowd”… Simple!

And how, I ask, does that show the reverence that should be accorded to Literature, eh? How does it showcase the “better” writer to the world? How does it promote true art?

This is why I am disappointed in me. I allowed “misguided” focuses to nudge me out of my right of belief and to lower my standards. That is wrong. Very wrong.

I am also disappointed in Etisalat. It is clear to me that Etisalat, and all involved in setting up “Prize for Literature by general public, non-literary expert votes”, do not recognise the true place of Literature, and its worth, as Art. If Etisalat know that they cannot bring on board Fiction Literature Experts to judge more than 50 stories, then entries should not exceed more than 50 stories… QED!

To have over 3,000 Writers enter their stories and then be incapable of “rightly” shortlisting stories, communicating with Writers, set up a working website for votes (which should not be necessary), then they do not comprehend what Literature is. And possible, they do no respect Fiction as an Art.

I am disappointed and I am insulted. Insulted that I had to suffer the indignity of begging people for votes all through yesterday. It is an insult to me as a Writer and one who takes absolute pride in her Fiction works. No Writer should be subjected to “begging for votes” “begging for purchases” “begging for anything whatsoever from readers. No one, for that matter, should be subjected to indignity of begging. No one!

And so, I am done begging. The story is there… it is not even clear to me if it fell into the “Approved For Votes” list. But it is there. You want to vote… Vote. You don’t want to vote… then don’t.

I am a Writer, a Genre Fiction Writer, and a damn good one too. I will not dishonour myself and my penname, and my works, any longer. If there is a Literature Prize to be won by Fiction Writers and that Prize is SOLELY judged by Literature Experts, I would again enter my story for such a Prize. But if it is a Prize based on votes, or an initial voting process such as the Etisalat Prize, I decline now, and forever, to participate in such ridiculousness.

Fiction Literature is Art. Art should be respected. Art should be rightly “critiqued”. Art is not a game of “uninformed votes”.

To EtisalatReads, I say you need to work on this. You want to promote Fiction Writing and Fiction Reading, then do it right.

To everyone, thus far, who have voted, I thank you for your faith in me. And my thanks goes to all who’s been striving to cast their votes. God bless you all.

Now, after I post the final episode of Beyond The Grave — Blood of the Innocent tomorrow, I will take a short break to gather my thoughts. I am sort of exhausted. Begging, in any form, exhausts me. And failure takes the strength out of me.

Thank you, my dear e-fam. I appreciate you all. And I ask, if I dare, whatever platform you have, spread the news that Literature is Art and should be critiqued and not turned in a game of caricature.

Cheers, everyone.

VOTE: naked, without her honour

The ETISALAT Flash Fiction Prize is on and voting is now open to the general public from 7 November 2016 – 30 November 2016.

Yours truly entered for the competition (can’t believe it, *wink*).

Here to invite you to vote for my flash fiction story: NAKED, WITHOUT HER HONOUR: Link HERE

OR: Copy this link; Place on your Browser and Go::: https://prize.etisalat.com.ng/flash-fiction/voteall.php?id=1000

Please READ… it is important you read, so you know what my story is about and then you are able to tell others about it. So READ and then, CLICK on the Facebook “THUMB” icon right below my name: THEODORA DAVID-WEST: and right below my nationality: NIGERIA.

Confirm your vote (which is a FACEBOOK LIKE) by waiting to make sure there is an established increase in number of LIKES and then… SPREAD THE NEWS.

Like I usually say, DON’T ENJOY TM’S STORIES ALONE *wink* *wink*… SHARE WITH OTHERS. There are SHARE BUTTONS right below my entry, use them generously.

Life and Spices e-family, let us do this as a family. Now is the time to put your vote where your mouth is.

May God bless us all.


Do not Use OPERA MINI. I think it has some problems via Opera Mini. Also be sure to confirm your vote by waiting to make sure that the number of LIKES (that is the number beside the “thumb up”) increases.

Thanks and counting on you guys.



Her heart thudded.

It was time. She did not know why she entered into the room. She had never thought that she would do so. Not when it was a room with one door and only a small window. But something had moved her feet; and she had strolled in… now, her heart thudded.

The crowd was more than she had expected. There was a cluster of people—and everyone wanted to walk through that one door. The alternative was the window, but only one can slip through it. Yet who wanted to slip out of a narrow window where there was a door?

Her heart beat like a drum. It was time. She cast a glance behind her. She needed them. Support. Courage. The wide show of hands.

It was time. It is time.



for the Etisalat Flash Fiction Prize.

Click: HERE to vote.


Follow link: NAKED, WITHOUT HER HONOUR LINK and when page is fully loaded, simply click on the FaceBook “thumb” Like Button and confirm your vote by noting there’s been an increase in already number of likes.

Thanks… VOTE!

BTG – Blood of the Innocent 8



“To err is human, to forgive, divine.” Alexander Pope.


HE was gone no more. He was here, never really gone. He was back in her life; had been back for some time and now she’d accepted it, Chizu knew herself to be content once more.

Her son was back—for her.

She was ready; ready for what will soon be. Ready for, and has accepted, what none of them can put a stop to. Her phone had been buzzing, in its on-vibrate mode, nonstop since she left Nkem. She had instructed Nkiru to tell her that she had not come home, whilst she had the car hidden in the garage.

Nkem was not ready, and who would blame her, for what was about to happen. She would not accept, not now at least, what has been destined for her. She would want to stop it. Only it cannot be stopped. And if it could be, she, Chizu, would not want it so.

Her son was back in her life and she was at last content again. When she had not understood that this was meant to be, she had run from it and had fought against it. Now, when she had let go of every fight and had welcomed instead of rebuked what was to be, that contentment which had eluded her since he left, had returned and she was again at peace.

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