I have to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone who purchased, reviewed, spread word of mouth of Simply Complicated. The response has been overwhelming and just so amazing!!! I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart. As a token of my appreciation, I’m also including a snippet of the upcoming standalone baseball romance, Where Are My Panties? that’ll be coming out early May.
Once again, YOU’RE AWESOME! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!
She wants to go from negative to positive…
When legal wunderkind Savior Ellison meets college intern Keisha Jones, sparks fly. He gave her an offer she did refuse, and it only made him want her more. If Keisha wants Savior to chase her, he hopes she has a good pair of running shoes.
Keisha Jones doesn’t believe in fairytales and especially the type that has a white knight in a shiny Bentley. Every girl has a past, and Keisha’s is often played out on reality TV. If Savior wants her, he has 90 days to prove it.
Can Savior convince Keisha to give him forever? Or will Keisha’s past revelations put a stop to the relationship before it starts?
Sex, drugs, and politics. All in a day’s work.
Simply Complicated is a standalone erotic full-length novel. It deals with trust, gentrification, and true love.
“Doing the right thing is never popular, Keisha.” Savior rubs my arm, “it’s never the thing that’ll get you famous and rich. But it’s always the thing that’ll make you sleep at night.”
My mind goes a mile a minute on what he’s referring to. He’s troubled about something and my heart is burning with more questions than answers. What is going on in his life where he’s confessing to me in an almost-drunken stupor?
As Al Green’s “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” softly plays in the background, I make a decision that could either backfire in my face or set some rules with Savior. I look up at him and my heart winces at how beautiful he is.
I straddle him and Savior’s eyes softly open. His eyes narrow at mine and they soften to a chocolate brown. I slid my lips across his jaw and nibbled on it, causing a low moan from him. Our lips met and he made love to my mouth; playing with my tongue and drinking from me.
His lips trailed down to my neck but I quickly stopped him, causing confusion from him. “Shhh…” I promised. “Let me take care of you.” I sink to my knees on the carpeted floor and unbuckled his jeans. Reaching into his boxer briefs, I pull out his magnificent cock that was already hardened.
He’s long and thick, just as I knew he would be. He smells musky and my pussy contracted in delicious response. Every touch I gave him, Savior gave a throaty moan and I’d barely touched him.
It was neither of ours first rodeo, yet it was so intimate doing this together. His knees began to tremble upon the anticipation of it, while the need to feel Savior inside of me increasingly grew. I realized at that moment, I needed to have Savior deep inside me this week. He knew I would beg for it and he was so right.
I licked the underside of his cock and felt him shiver in response. Gripping it with the other hand, I played with his balls; cupping and massaging them as Savior’s hand roamed my bald head.
I kissed the mushroom tip and licked the precum that came out before I took him into my hot mouth. The smooth hardness of his cock, coupled with how he hissed and gripped the sofa cushions, has made me unbelievably aroused.
I would take care of my needs later. It was all about pleasing Savior, taking away his pain. He didn’t come here to talk about my final nor would I want to right now. I want to please him, make him feel like the king he is, and worry about everything else the next day.
Saliva formed at the back of my throat, coating his thick length. My head slowly bobbed to a steady rhythm, releasing him with a noticeable pop, before I went back down. I felt Savior’s thighs tremble and soft coos escaped his lips.
Both of his hands gripped my head, rubbing it. His cock grew thicker and longer and I felt his eyes on me. But I didn’t pay him any mind. I wanted to enjoy myself, listening to him moan as the lust within him became greedier and out of control.
I took him deeper, causing me to slightly gag. Savior’s reaction, was much different. His body lifted off the back of the sofa and he hissed my name out. I knew he was close and he was trying to hold on as long as he could.
As the song neared the crescendo, we both lost control. I sucked him harder and faster, working my hands around his cock, while Savior fucked my face. He plundered his cock in and out of my hungry mouth. My eyes watered, and at times, I couldn’t breathe. Yet, I couldn’t get enough.
“I’m going to come, Keisha,” he moaned, “I’m going to come.”
I pull back when hot streams of come shot up and landed on my face and chest. I quickly went back down on him, sucking the soul of his cock and swallowing more of his hot come. His body jerked and shuddered beneath me.
The sounds coming out of his mouth made me so fucking hot. I didn’t care his essence was all over me. I wanted to taste all of him. I wanted more of him. I licked him clean and was surprised he was still hard. I wonder if his dick ever goes soft.
“I need to go wipe my face,” I promise him. I rise up and head to the kitchen where I grabbed a wetted paper towel. I wiped my face and chest, cleaning all of Savior off me. When I returned to the sofa, Savior had fallen asleep.
I smile at how peaceful he looks, which is much better than how he looked when he’d arrived. I gather a few blankets to cover him up. I move my study area to the living room as I watch him sleep and I listen to classical music.
The set-up somehow feels real, even though I’m not sure if it is. I didn’t feel used nor did I feel like Savior came over just to get his dick sucked and be done with it. He definitely would’ve left shortly after he came if that’s what he was after.
It strangely felt like Savior came over because he was lonely.
I gather a couple of snacks and bottled water before I text Jalen back. Sorry you can’t come over tonight. My cousin is going to help me study.
To purchase Simply Complicated, click here.
And now a snippet of Where Are My Panties?
First rule of being a sports physical therapist: Do not sleep with an athlete.
The second rule of being a sports physical therapist: Do not fall in love with an athlete.
The third rule of being a sports physical therapist: Ignore Rules #1 and #2.
Bobbi Gibson has enough on her plate with her new position of being a physical therapist to the Los Angeles Dodgers. Dealing with egos and injuries, and sometimes not sure which is the bigger headache, the last thing she needs is distraction from the rising pitcher who simply goes by The Answer. Yet, he’s the only sane human in her crazy world.
Quinn “The Answer” Riordan knows he’s not like most pitchers. After all, most athletes don’t know every Backstreet Boys song by heart nor do they sleep with a stuffed giraffe at night. He also knows most pitchers can’t easily throw a record-breaking and break-neck speed pitch of 100 mph on a regular basis. But what Quinn does know is he’s head over heels in love with the new physical therapist. Now just he has to convince her she feels the same.
Where Are My Panties? is a standalone baseball romance. It features a *NSYNC v. Backstreet Boys battle, late-night drive thru runs, more giraffes than Geoffrey at Toys R Us, and how Legos are the best invention ever.
George Parsons patted his sweaty baldhead as he traversed in thick, biting grass. He intentionally dressed in light colors – khaki pants and a matching dress shirt – but it didn’t matter. The Devil’s armpit known as Fontana, California had sun that beat down on him like it was God and he was a sinner in church.
Still, George had traveled a long distance from his comfortable in every weather Florida home. He was on a mission. He heard about this kid who could throw 90 miles per hour and he had to check it out. It could be true or it could be the biggest piece of human horseshit he’d ever seen. He never knew until he saw the potential player in action.
“I thought you said California was nothing but palm trees and bitches,” George’s thick southern accent spat.
Two men along George laughed. “I’m sure my word were palm trees and beautiful ladies,” Joshua Peck answered. He was a tall man with brown hair that had the right amount of bed head and blindly white teeth that suggested he would’ve been the perfect weatherman on local news.
“Ladies, bitches, they’re all the same.” George huffed as he stopped and took a swig of water from his bottle. He normally preferred to travel with a flask full of the best Jim Beam, but time was of the essence. He needed to be focused.
“Ah, we’re almost there, George.” The other man, Arthur Rowland, wiped his brow. He was of average build, average height, and well, average just about everything else. He did have a weird affinity for 90’s grunge, which made him relatable to younger people.
“Almost there?” George began walking again and softly cursed when he noticed his Louis Vuitton loafers were getting all sorts of cow shit, dog shit, and whatever kind of shit on them. He hoped this kid was worth all of the shit he had put up with. “Where in the hell does this kid live?”
“We’re here,” Arthur replied and took a deep breath. “He’s in there.”
George patted his forehead and drank some more water. In front of him was a big barn with stacks of hay everywhere. Horses, chickens, and a few ducks roamed freely. In the middle of it was the most outstanding sight.
A strapping young man who looked like he could’ve been Justin Bieber’s doppelganger was dressed in just jeans and Timberlands, and wore a bandana backwards, with the front ends tied and loose, while rapping to…what was that? Tupac?
He casually lifted the huge stacks of hay from one end of the barn to the other as “If My Homies Call” blasted from overhead speakers. The young man knew every word verbatim.
The song switched to the Go-Go’s “All Lips Are Sealed” and the man danced around the barn, swinging around a pole before he began to shovel manure. He even played the air guitar.
When the song switched to EU’s “Doing Da Butt”, the man started to shake his butt and added some twerking moves. Again, he knew every lyric as if he wrote the song himself.
He turned around and spotted his coaches. “Hey Art and Josh!” He waved as he kept twerking. “Come on! Let’s dance, fellas!”
“You’re shitting me,” George deadpanned.
“George Parsons,” Joshua began, “let’s introduce you to Quinn Riordan.”