Hey, book bae!
For Sample Sunday, I have sneak peeks for two upcoming releases!
In His Possession drops 6.1.21 and the preorder is available for purchase on Amazon here.
Finding A Wife for My Husband is my exclusive June paperback. Copies begin to ship out June 15th and it can be purchased (along with the rest of my paperbacks) here.
Let me know in a comment which book you’re ready to read!
Sincere
Something was wrong with his wife—Sincere was sure of that. For months, she’d been distancing herself from him, and he needed to know why. He’d already asked her straight up what the problem was and she got defensive, so tonight, Sincere decided to change his approach. Sincere fixed her favorite dinner, smothered chicken, sweet potatoes, and spinach, hoping it would help him break the ice. There were a few gifts for her in their bedroom, along with the materials for a romantic bath and massage, but Sincere wasn’t going to bring out the big guns until they were able to successfully get through dinner.
At the sound of the garage lifting, Sincere quickly stood from the dining room table. He lit the two candles that were atop it and poured them both a glass of wine. Faith didn’t come in right away, giving him time to start a quiet Kem playlist. As Sincere fixed their plates, Faith made her way inside. The kitchen and dining room were to the left, their bedroom to the right.
Sincere waited, frozen, hoping she would come in his direction. It wouldn’t surprise him if she went straight to their bedroom, but he was hoping she would show him a slight glimpse of the woman he’d fallen in love with.
“What’s all this?” Faith asked sweetly, making her way into the kitchen.
As soon as Sincere’s eyes landed on his wife, he smiled. Faith was beautiful… no one would ever be able to deny that. Her rich cocoa brown skin was blemish-free and smooth. Full lips and deep-set eyes were features that first attracted Sincere to her. Never one to stick to a style for too long, Faith often kept her natural hair protected under wigs and sew-ins. Right now, she was rocking a jet-black bob with a middle part.
“I can’t fix my wife dinner?” Sincere asked, eyes lowering down her frame as she slowly made her way in his direction.
She was a few inches shorter than him at five-seven, and her body was proof of her love for both food and exercise. Faith was small and slim in her stomach and waist, but her ass and thighs were thick. Sincere would always tell her that she was perfect for him, and she would tease him and say he only loved her because of her big booty and pretty smile.
“You can, but she’s been really horrible toward you lately.”
Cupping her cheeks, Sincere’s expression softened at the sight of her eyes watering. If she cried, he would break.
“Can she tell me why?”
“Not right now.” Before Sincere could respond, Faith added, “But I will tonight. After you have dinner.”
“You’re not going to eat?” he asked as she put space between them.
“I don’t have an appetite.”
“Early dinner?” Her head shook. “You didn’t have breakfast either. What’s going on with you, Faith? And don’t tell me nothing.”
Faith’s tongue ran across her teeth. “I’ll tell you after you eat. Okay?”
Without waiting for him to reply, she headed for the dining room, gulping down her glass of wine as soon as she was seated. Sincere was hungry, but now, he no longer had an appetite. He ended up shoving his fork around his food and taking a few bites before pushing the plate forward.
“Tell me,” Sincere demanded. “Now.”
Faith released a quiet huff before almost whispering, “It’s back.”
A few seconds passed before Sincere asked, “What’s back?”
“The cancer.”
His heart dropped. He didn’t want to show how he was feeling on his face, so he kept his expression blank as he nodded. Though Sincere was aware of her battle with cancer in the past, it wasn’t a subject they talked about often. All he knew, obviously, was that she survived, and that was good enough for him.
Even though he knew there was a possibility for the cancer to come back, so much time had passed that he’d honestly forgotten and considered her to be one of the lucky ones. Now, it appeared her luck had run out. Still, Sincere was confident she would be able to beat it, just as she’d done in the past.
“Okay.” Sincere swallowed hard and sat up in his seat. “We’re going to get through this.” She smiled with a shake of her head as her eyes closed. “I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”
“Thank you,” Faith muttered, refilling her wine glass.
“What’s the first step? Chemo?”
Her head shook. “I’m not doing that.”
“You’re not doing what?”
Faith met his eyes, gripping the stem of her wine glass tighter. “Chemo.”
He nodded. “Okay. Then what other options are there?”
She smiled bitterly with a shake of her head as she looked away. “None. I’m not fighting it this time.”
Sincere’s face twisted up. His heart began to beat rapidly in his chest. As calm and empathetic as he wanted to be, her nonchalant tone and short statements were starting to irritate him.
“The fuck you mean you aren’t fighting it this time?”
“I mean exactly what I said. I’m not putting my body through that again. I’m tired of this shit, Sincere.”
“Bae…” His voice shook, causing him to clear his throat as he stood and walked over to her. Kneeling before her, Sincere took her hand into his. Squeezing her eyes together tightly, her head shook as her chin trembled. “If you don’t fight this, you’re going to die. Is that what you want?”
Her tears finally fell as she licked her lips. “Of course I don’t want to die.” Faith’s eyes opened. “But I’m tired of going to the clinic three or five times a week and feeling like shit. And I’m not doing the surgery again. Or radiation. I’m tired of it all, Sincere.”
Gritting his teeth, Sincere stood and sat in the chair next to hers. “We can talk about this later. I know you’re probably overwhelmed and…”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” Faith interrupted. “I’m not doing chemo. Period.”
“This is Scar. She will be your server tonight.” His grip heightened from her hand to her arm. “But hear me clearly—she belongs to me. She is my possession.” Releasing his hold, Malcolm smiled and placed a kiss on her cheek. She tried not to react, but she couldn’t keep her body from stiffening as she closed her eyes.
Her eyes opened, and Malcolm was gone. She smiled, happy to be out of his presence.
“What can I get you all to drink? Y’all want bottles to start?”
“Champagne,” he said, forcing her to look into his dark chocolate eyes.
“Champagne? Are you celebrating something tonight?”
He shrugged before shooting her a soft smile. “I guess you could say I’m celebrating meeting you.”
This wasn’t the first time a man had flirted with her, but it was the first time a man had flirted with her knowing she belonged to Malcolm. Honestly, she didn’t know how to respond. If it was anyone else, she’d reject him to keep him safe, but he had to know who Malcolm was. He had to be aware of the danger flirting with her would place himself in.
“I’m honored to make your acquaintance as well,” Scarlett confessed.
He extended his arm, large hand open and waiting to accept hers. Resisting the urge to look back, Scarlett placed her hand inside of his, chills covering her arm though his hand was warm. And soft. And veiny. As his thumb caressed hers, he stared into her eyes.
“Scar, is it?”
She nodded. “Scarlett Graham, but everyone calls me Scar.”
“Scarlett,” he muttered, licking his lips as if he liked the way her name tasted. Pulling her closer, he added, “Beautiful name for an even more beautiful woman.”
“Thank you…”
“Black.” He paused, head tilting as he looked her curvy frame over. “Assad Black.”
“I’m um…” she pulled her hand from his, “…going to get you all a few bottles of champagne.”
She didn’t have to look back to know that he was watching her walk away. She felt his eyes on her the whole time. As soon as she made it behind the bar next to Vanna, she practically fell against it.
“Girrrrrl,” she stretched, squeezing Vanna’s hand. “Did you see that shit?”
“I diiiiid. That nigga wants you!”
“It seems like it, and Malcolm made it clear that I belong to him!”
Vanna’s head shook as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you… if anyone can get you out of here… it’s them. What do they want?” Scarlett didn’t reply. She was too busy allowing her brain to process Assad’s boldness. “Scar?”
“Huh?”
“I said what do they want?”
“Oh. Um. It’s…” She turned and counted everyone seated at their long, rectangular table. “It’s eight of them, so give me four bottles of Moët to start.”
“Is it someone’s birthday or something? We need to send our girls over with you if it is. Get the fireworks and shit going in this bitch.”
Scarlett chuckled. “No. I asked if they were celebrating, and he said he was celebrating meeting me.”
Vanna grinned. “This is it, Scar. This is it. I feel it in my spirit. It’s something about them.”
Something about him.
“I can’t think about that right now. I just have to make it through the night without Malcolm starting to suspect anything. He’s bold and dangerous, but I’m the one that will have to pay for it. So I can’t even play with him like that.”
Vanna’s head shook as she pulled two trays from under the bar. One held the champagne while the other had glasses and everything else they would need. The women slowly made their way back over, and the whole time she walked, Assad’s eyes were on her… as if he just didn’t give the slightest fuck about what Malcolm had said. Scarlett’s nipples hardened, and she knew he’d noticed it when he smiled.
“You got a man, beautiful?” the man who looked like a younger version of Assad asked.
“I do,” Vanna replied with a smile and wink. “I got a few.”
“Can they fight?”
They laughed. “They can. They can shoot too.”
“Shid, me too, so wassup?”
Assad’s head shook while the man who was seated on the opposite side of him said, “This nigga. I see he ain’t learned his lesson yet.”
“Mane, fuck you.”
“Y’all chill with all that,” Assad ordered, silencing both men immediately.
When the younger man followed Vanna back to the bar, he left his seat next to Assad open, but she wasn’t expecting him to ask her to sit down.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” she declined gracefully.
“I insist.”
Assad stood, giving her the chance to take in his full height. She was five-five, and by the difference, he had to be at least six-two or three.
She liked that shit.
Clearing her throat, Scarlett looked around casually in search of Malcolm as she made her way around the table. He did instruct her to make sure they returned, so she had to play nice.
“Is anyone ready to order?” she asked as Assad pushed her seat up to the table.
“Nah.” Assad declined.
“Shit, I am. Their wings are good as hell,” the man seated next to him countered.
Scarlett chuckled. “I agree.”
Looking around, her eyes landed on Kendall. After beckoning her to their table, she asked her to help her serve them by taking their orders and letting her know when they were ready for pickup. Kendall agreed, heading around the table to see what everyone wanted. Scarlett looked around again, and this time, her eyes found Malcolm. He nodded and gave her a soft smile of approval, which allowed her to relax a little more into her seat.
“Be honest with me,” Assad spoke, gaining her attention as he placed one of the champagne flutes in front of her.
“I shouldn’t. I’ve been drinking tequila all night.”
He smiled as he filled the flute halfway up. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here. I’m not going to let anyone take advantage of you.” She didn’t know why, but there was something about his eyes and tone that made her believe him, which was a miracle within itself. “How did you get caught up with a nigga like Malcolm? What does he have on you?”
Scarlett chuckled nervously. “Why can’t we be in love?”
Assad’s head shook as he poured himself a glass of champagne. “He didn’t introduce you as the woman he loves and treasures; he introduced you like you were his prized possession.”
Licking her lips, she swallowed hard. “I can’t say.”
Assad nodded. “But I’m right?”
Her eyes shifted in Malcolm’s direction, and surprisingly, his attention was on Bianca.
“Yes.”
Assad nodded before taking a sip of his champagne, and her eyes focused on his perfectly manicured hands. She was supposed to believe this man was in the black mafia? While she couldn’t deny he had the aura of a man who wasn’t to be fucked with, he looked more like a model. From his tall, wide, walnut-colored frame and dark chocolate eyes to his square head, curly tapered mini fro with shaved sides, and his high cheek bones.
Assad was beyond handsome.
Even his beard looked soft, curly, and well moisturized as it drew attention to his brown and pomegranate-colored lips. They looked so fucking soft. Every time she looked at them, she had to lick hers.
“Are you safe with him?” Before she could look in Malcolm’s direction again, Assad’s hand was going to her thigh. “Focus on me,” he commanded softly.
Looking toward the ceiling to dry her eyes, Scarlett inhaled a deep breath.
“Are you safe with him, Scarlett?”
He squeezed her thigh gently, holding the space for her while she fought to stay in the present moment. Unable to answer him vocally, she shook her head as her eyes slowly lowered to his.
“Okay.” He removed his hand and sat back in his seat just as Kendall was making it over to their side of the table.
By the time she was done, Scarlett stood and took the notebook from her.
