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Street Safe #MFRWhooks

Safe Sisters 

Two sisters, one treasure, and a killer determined to have it all.


Street Safe 

Street Callan wants only one thing from the sultry voluptuous woman in red heels, a night of steamy, unadulterated sex.  


Na’arah Simmons has no problem submitting to Street’s seductive allure, since she shares in the attraction.

When their one night stand leaves her with an unplanned souvenir, his less than desired response will force her to move on. 


However, when she’s the only witness to a brutal murder, Na’arah has only Street to turn to if she wants to save herself and her unborn child.


Street rounded the corner and paused. His heart pounded a little harder and the hard-on he’d sported most of the night came roaring to life. Oh yeah, tonight must be his night if Na’arah was standing next to his office alone.


He limped closer, the sweet, intoxicating scent of her perfume beckoning as easily as her sultry pose.


She probably had no idea of the alluring picture she presented. Eyes closed, full lips parted as if waiting for a lover’s kiss and one shapely leg bent so her heel rested on the wall behind her. That position also allowed the skirt of her dress to rise a little higher on her thighs. Tonight was definitely his night.


He stopped in front of her and still she hadn’t moved. This close, and the heat of her body wrapped around his.


Resisting the urge to mold his body into the temptation of her soft front he leaned closer, resting a hand near her head and dragging her scent deep into his lungs.


“Not liking the party?” he murmured.


She snapped open her eyes, a small gasp accompanied the quick rise and fall of her lovely breasts. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and he stifled a groan. What he wouldn’t give to feel her mouth on his, or anywhere else on his body, for that matter.


“Not particularly, but they’re not my friends,” she answered. She straightened, her breasts brushing his chest, but he didn’t move.


She merely arched a brow and he smiled. So she didn’t seem to mind that he was invading her space. How far could he test her limits?


“So why are you the designated driver?” He leaned closer... His thighs brushed hers and sent a jolt of longing through his system.


“My sister.” Na’arah lifted an arm and rested her hand on his chest. “I owed her a favor.”


He savored the warmth of her palm. He could imagine the way her hands would feel sliding over his skin, trailing down his stomach and closing around his erection. “I’m glad you did.” He swept a lock of her hair from her shoulder, pleased at the silkiness of the strands.


Desire flared in her irises. Maybe she wasn’t as unaffected as he thought.


“So what would your girlfriend say if she saw us right now?


“Nothing. I don’t have one.”


Her shoulders sagged.


So she’d been worried about his relationship status. Interesting. “Should I be worried about some pesky boyfriend?”

She shook her head and looked away.


He tucked a curl behind her ear, before trailing a finger along her jaw until it rested beneath her chin. Slowly, he tilted her head until she once more met his gaze.


“You still have the most amazing eyes. I always remembered that about you.”


“I can’t believe you noticed my eyes.”


“That’s not the only thing I noticed.” He shifted until his knee slid between her thighs. He longed to explore her heat.  Closer still and he had her effectively trapped between his body and the wall.


Not a bad place to be at the moment, but he could think of one better.


“And you forgot my name.”


Chagrin coursed through him.


“Why did you stop coming?” A hint of hurt clung to her voice. “Did I do something you didn’t like?


Damn, she didn’t waste words and strangely, he found her candor arousing. He could do no else than be truthful. “Because I’m attracted to you.”


Her gaze flew to his then dropped away. A smirk twitched the corners of his mouth. He’d surprised her with his admission.


“Nothing to say?”


“Prove it.”

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Ominous Silence #MFRWhooks

His True Love 

Book 1 of 2: True Detective Series
Multicultural & Interracial Romance
Romantic Suspense

In a small town, in a popular bar, beautiful women disappear. This could just be a coincidence, but private investigators, Carson, Matt and Nathalie don’t believe in them. So they go undercover.


However, when one of the missing women turns up dead, the trio is disturbed to learn the woman bore a striking resemblance to Nathalie; they increase their efforts. When Nathalie disappears from the same bar, Carson and Matt will do anything to find her.


*Contains explicit descriptions of sex, strong language, and descriptions of violence.*


Weeping, the kind which does its best to go unnoticed, filled the ominous silence. The constant whimper invaded the consciousness of the woman sprawled half on half off the bed. With effort the woman forced her heavy lids open and blinked in the frail darkness. She shifted, then toppled to the hard packed earth with a grunt.

Gripping her pounding head, she sat cross legged on the floor and rested her back against the wall. She rolled spit around her mouth in an effort to loosen her swollen tongue from the roof of her mouth.  What the heck happened?

“Sean?” she croaked. Her voice was low and rusty from disuse. Had she passed out? They, she and her fiancé Sean, hadn’t even had that much to drink.

“No Sean here,” came a shaky singsong voice.

Had she passed out somewhere else? She shifted, moaning when her stomach shifted and slid like old grease on water. “This isn’t funny, Sean.” Finally she looked upward.

Not home. No where near home.

Weak sunlight filtered through the dingy mullioned glass block windows. From somewhere, a woman wept as if trying to do it in secret. The dirt floor was hard, and sported a colorful rug, a camped with a stingy mattress and rolled sleeping bag sat in one corner. While a toilet and shower, well more like a hose with a nozzle occupied the other corner. At least that section of the room had an actual floor. The faint stench of sewage gave her an idea of what was supposed to go on there.

Definitely not at home.

Rough gray cinder blocks formed the walls and thick wood and bars made up the front of the cell. A soft, soothing alto sang an old Cyndi Lauper song, something about girls having fun.

She was not having fun. She wanted to go home. She didn’t want to be in this dirty, filthy, hovel waiting for God knew what or even worse for whoever had grabbed her to come back and  and do what? Her heart pounded at the question.


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His True Protectors Book Tour

Book 2 True Detective Series

Available Now!


Revenge is his game, and Black Hemlock is willing to do anything to settle the score.
For years, Black Hemlock has been biding his time, sulking that bragging rights to a long ago cyber heist was snatched from him. Throw in betrayal and a broken heart, and he has the perfect motive for murder.
Once more True Detective Agency is called in to assist in finding the perpetrator, this time using Carson as bait. Fearless and capable, Carson has no problem going head-to-head with a killer with a penchant for poison.
As the trio delves into the lives and deaths of the victims, a buried secret could destroy them all.


Erotic Romantic Suspense includes elements of BDSM, explicit language, some violence and explicit descriptions of sex.


She stared at him, her face stale.

“Right. You treat the technology like public restrooms; you only touch what you have to.”

“And you wonder why I keep a typewriter.”

“I’ll go ask our resident Geek Squad and see if he can fix it.”

She pulled the dustcover from an old-fashioned typewriter and switched it on. It hummed to life.

“I’ll have my report ready by the time he gets it fixed,” she told him.

The phone rang at her elbow. She picked it up. “Yes?”

“Could you come to my office a moment, please?”

Puzzled, Nathalie hung up the phone.

Nathalie left the office she shared with Matt and paused just outside the door. An array of green plants were situated on a waist-high shelf. She picked up a small spray bottle and spritzed a few of the thirstier plants. She made a mental note to trim some of the dead leaves on the others.

She glanced to her left and Carson’s open door. Matt was seated on a corner of the desk. The waiting area held no reception desk, but it did hold several slate gray leather chairs and a couple of low silver and glass tables. The soft lavender walls were a soothing contrast to the more masculine furniture.

She straightened a jacket on the coat tree before continuing to Sterling’s office. His office was directly opposite the entryway, eliminating the need for a receptionist. She paused on the threshold and tapped on the open door.

He motioned her forward. “Close the door and have a seat.”

She closed the door but stood in front of his desk. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down,” he repeated.

“I’ll stand,” she replied firmly. Knots of apprehension tightened her stomach as she studied the tight lines around his mouth and eyes.

There was always a lingering sadness in Sterling’s eyes, but now worry and maybe a little fear resided in the irises. She twisted her fingers in the folds of her cargo pants. When she realized what she was doing, she forced her hands to relax. Whatever Sterling had to say couldn’t be that bad.

He sighed. “For whatever reason, Jude Murphy is up for parole.”

Nathalie gripped the desk as the world tilted. She didn’t remember sinking into the chair, but she was grateful for the support. “That’s—that’s impossible."

She sucked in a breath, her chest tight. She couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard she forced air into her lungs, they just wouldn’t expand. Pinpoints of light danced before her eyes. Sterling’s gentle voice called to her as if from a distance. She focused on his rich baritone and slowly the pressure eased.

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