Chances are, you’ve read one (or more) books Oprah Winfrey has recommended on her show over the years. And chances are, you’ve heard about Kitty Kelley’s just-released biography of Oprah. We want to hear what you think of Oprah’s Book Club picks. Do you have any favorites? Does your book club read them? Why or why not? How would you describe Oprah’s taste in fiction? Post a comment and enter to win a copy of Kitty Kelley’s Oprah. Your book group could be featured in an upcoming issue of Read It Forward!

We all have our favorite skits from The Carol Burnett Show. That famous Tarzan yell. The “Went With the Wind” skit. The way she tugged her ear at the end of every show. What’s yours? Post a comment to enter for your chance to win the best Mother’s Day gift ever: A short phone conversation with Carol about her new memoir. Other lucky runners-up will win autographed copies of This Time Together.

I owe a lot to those Junkies. Back in the early days of podcasting my fiction, they would wait (impatiently) for their weekly “fix” of new chapters, and the name was born. These fiction addicts are a huge part of the enjoyment I get out of the business of writing books, and an even bigger part of my success. Real-life friendships are always a happy side effect of sharing your favorite books, and it’s been no different with the Junkies. Even though we are a largely virtual community, there was no lack of celebrating when Contagious hit the New York Times bestseller list.

Everyone in your book group wants to have a glass of chardonnay and talk about the book. One member, however, wants to talk about how the book relates to her marriage, has affected her sex life, and has become a major topic at her weekly group psychotherapy session. How to make it end happily ever after? To enter for your chance to win a copy of What To Do When No One Has a Clue – and to get some great advice – post a comment with your book group predicament.

My magical, charming, Steel Magnolia/Auntie Mame of a mom is the reason for this “momoir.” Let’s just say I am one of the lucky ones – I knew at an early age that I was loved unconditionally by an always coifed, perfumed, and gracious southern belle. Her loveliness was neither fake nor saccharine like that of many cartoonish impostors, but real and grounded, and she epitomizes grace under fire. She Ain’t Heavy, She’s My Mother is a tribute to the woman who taught me that there is great beauty in great strength, and although I’m still learning, she taught me to be a man.

Libraries are filled with stories on generations of brutal men, trapped in a cycle of aggression. I wanted to write about the violence of women. Female violence is a specific brand of ferocity. It’s invasive. A girlfight is all teeth and hair, spit and nails — a much more fearsome thing to watch than two dudes clobbering each other. And the mental violence is positively gory. Women entwine. Innuendo, backspin, false encouragement, punishing withdrawal, sexual jealousy, garden-variety jealousy — watching women go to work on each other is a horrific bit of pageantry that can stretch on for years.