“Dig into mystery and mayhem of psychological, fanatical and narcissist hold, where living on the edge isn’t the only thing blooming in the heart of my African American Protagonist.” – Lorene Stunson Hill


“To Dance with Ugly People,” tells the harrowing story of Dani Ransom’s travels down several dark paths. She experiences the ravages of her husband’s drug abuse, suffers psychological cruelty, and fanatical abuse.


Witness the chaos of Dani Ransom’s mind. Troubled by man versus women, she makes many wrong decisions. Exhausted by the collapse of every aspect of her life, can she save herself and overcome the shadows of darkness that follows her? Divorced, she finally finds the love of her life, her greatest muse, an older man, but even when she strives to travel the right paths, fate steps in. Haunted by her own personal ghosts she can’t live life to its fullest. Is fate everywhere we are, involved in everything we do and not just the end result? What do you think?


‘To Dance with Ugly People’ is Lorene’s first published novel and depicts the life of an African-American from infant to childhood, teenager to adult. The story lines, written as a series of letters, range from heartfelt tenderness to explosive reality. The good is sensitively written, the bad is portrayed as the reality of life and the ugly are the things in life we hope will never happen to us.


Lorene Stunson Hill eloquently guides you through this journey of life, hope and despair, and if you only read one book this year – MAKE SURE IT IS THIS ONE.


Many customers have already benefited from reading the works of this amazing Author.


“Very real and frightening,” said Critic, J. Rutherford.


“I have learned from experience that if J. Rutherford says it is good; it will be,” – R. Walker.


“Great read!  I enjoyed this story. The author Ms. Hill, has an excellent way of “drawing you in” to the story. Very well done!  I felt emotion as I read it and the “To Whom It May Concern” piece, really had me connecting with the primary character!” K. W. Cormack


For more information on the works of this amazing Author!


“To Dance with Ugly People,” Available at:   ISBN 13: 978-1499749905  ISBN 10: 14997799


For interviews or further information, please contact the author direct:


Enjoy a Work in Progress

To Those Who Are Concerned:

In my youth I was a trifle “spoiled.” The youngest and only daughter, I’d say I was in a good position. I was dreamy, indolent and rather romantic for a child. I’d always taken care to conceal any weaknesses, from all eyes. Adult life left me utterly bewildered and overcome with fatigue. The human ability to dance around the truth had become a monstrous conspiracy against my body and soul. But in turn, divorced, the need for companionship had become an imperious necessity. The need for it was a strange sensation that had slowly began to take possession of my body and I felt powerless.

My two girlfriends, convinced me to go to the Club. They giggled and joked gleefully as I joined in with an unjoyous laugh. On a dark night in midsummer our car pulled into the parking lot of the nightclub we were to visit that night. The club was called the Rainbow Club. I exited the car, staring at the ground as if waking from a dreamless sleep. I lifted my head from the dirt of the parking lot and stared a few moments into the darkness at this rather large building, offensive to view, looming, all lit up with multi-colors, in the dark, across the street. I was appalled. It was in very poor condition as a result of over use and neglect. It was a thing that was very ugly, leaning a little to the left, and seemed to disfigure the landscape. Even the cars in its parking lot were parked haphazardly in the dusty area that showed white in the gathering darkness of the night.

My girlfriends sashayed across the street, while I moved slowly behind them clutching a small red leather pocketbook. I dragged my feet, almost getting hit by a car, making the situation more horrible. I was excited to be in the town of Eatonville, Florida … the first incorporated all-black town in America … The place of Zora Neale Hurston’s roots. As I pressed forward I became curious and searched up and down the street to see all that could be observed. I thought it odd, with a little obligatory mind, that it did not arouse an enlightened curiosity in me to enter that club. I felt crossing that road was leading to something evil. The Rainbow Club was plagued by crime; drugs, robberies, prostitution, stabbings and murders. So, all of what we were doing was observed with the terror of the fulfillment of natural expectations. Perhaps, a fear of someone who had been murdered in the dark, and my not knowing who nor why. I entered the place with a sense of terror. So frightful, it led to something evil torturing my soul. But, the music was bumping and I wasn’t sitting at home feeling lonely.

My two girlfriends jumped to every dance invitation while I, hearing only fragmented utterances due to the loud music, turned down many. I didn’t think meeting a man who frequented clubs would lead to a long term committed relationship … and that is what I was looking for. Perhaps, I’d be proven wrong. I just sat watching the clubbing faithful on the dance floor until the early hours, once again. Why do I go to the pumping nightclubs? They say dancing is pseudo ƒucking. If you have no rhythm on the floor, then you have no rhythm in the sack. Silly. And, why do people go to the nightclub if they can’t dance, looking exceptionally stiff, showing evidence in their dance moves that looks like insensible pain? Their contortions seemed possessed. But, let’s face it, they say clubs are a great place to meet people. Driven by some imperious necessity to avoid being alone here we all sit and dance.

A desperate young man has been making passes at me all night. He comes out with his one final, killer, guaranteed-to-work, chat-up line.

“Can I come home with you? It won’t take very long.”

I tried to give him a reply, but I laughed too hard. Why I was laughing? I could not definitely figure that out in my mind. Perhaps, from a strange absurd reversion that left me feeling uncomfortable. The night was reaching the “Witching” hour – 3 AM. Ever wonder what is the “Witching” hour? “It may be used to refer to as any arbitrary time of bad luck or a time in which something bad has a greater likelihood to occur!” At that moment I was sprung on with appalling ferocity. I felt a huge clump of the back of my hair grasped tightly and my head yanked back violently. Startled, a face lunged against mine, massive lips spread across my mouth as a tongue plunged into my mouth and throat. Occasionally sucking my lips into a vacuum, having fulfilled its purpose in the monstrous culmination of my terror, I thought I might vomit. He had returned for one last attempt.

If I were a Bouncer it would be kicking out time at the nightclub! He released me uttering a hideous laugh! I jumped from my chair regarding him with the malevolence of a wild brute, shouting with the full strength of my lungs – obscenities, saliva dripping from my chin. He stared at me with neither love – nor pity – nor intelligence. The world grew grey – all of my finer emotions were swallowed up in fear. For a flash of a moment all was black … I thought I might faint. A sound as of the beating of distant drums … a murmur of swarming voices and then silence … had he shot me? Was I dead? I sprinting over to the stairs that led up to the roof.