They promised each other forever and then he went ghost on her.
Well, did he really?
Jennifer Winters knows exactly what Trevor Ashley has been doing since they ended their romance some years ago. After all, it’s hard to miss a guy who’s the number one hip-hop artist in the world. Everywhere she turns, someone is quoting his lyrics, talking about his videos, and gossiping about who he’s been with.
Now he has returned for reasons Jennifer is not sure she cares about.
Trevor Ashley knows behind the bling, women, and fame, he’s bored. Every IG hottie says the same thing and they all want the same thing – clout. What he does want is an old love who wants nothing to do with him.
Can Trevor convince Jennifer the past is just that? Or will she unknowingly contribute to another hit song by him?
I Forgot You Existed is a standalone erotic novella that deals with long-lost love, forgiveness, and starting over.
“I hear Ash’s back.”
Jennifer shrugged. Trevor Ashley or otherwise known as hip-hop star Ash, is the success of the small town of Palm Springs. A city world-renowned from being a Hollywood hotspot and host of the annual Coachella fest.
Families felt safe raising their children in the city. A burgeoning gay community could be as loud and proud as they want to be. It was an Instagrammer’s dream vacation. The city could add one more bragging right to its history:
It produced one of the best rappers in the world.
Jennifer paid no attention to Trevor or anything connected to him for the last six years of her life. One, she didn’t really listen to any rap music unless it was old-school, so Trevor clearly didn’t fit the bill.
Most importantly, why would she want to listen to music from a man who eviscerated her heart?
“That’s lovely,” Jennifer restocked the shelves at Fresh Espresso.
Hayley turned towards her best friend. Her face was stoic as she concentrated on putting the coffee bags just right. Jennifer always had a bit of anal retentiveness when it came to her business and it paid off. It was voted the most successful shop in the Coachella Valley.
Hearing Ash’s name clearly bothered Jennifer more than she wanted to admit. “You’re okay with him being in town?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jennifer asked.
“Well, the fact you two used to date…” Hayley began.
“That was a long time ago,” Jennifer stated.
“And the fact you have straightened out the same cupboard for the past ten minutes.” Hayley folded her arms and watched as Jennifer stood back and realized her mistake. “I mean, how many times are you gonna stack the same shelf, Pooh?”
I Forgot You Existed, a short romance novella, will be out this month.
Note: Yeah, so this is finally out now! I’m not entirely sure if it’ll be available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, and Kobo at the time this is posted, however, it is available on Smashwords (full) and wattpad (partial)!
He summoned me to write a song for him. He ended up giving me so much more.
The media’s image of him was something crazy and completely different from the battered soul, who was mischievous and completely dynamic than anything I had ever encountered.
I was flawed and damaged; a consequence from having success at a super young age when most girls would’ve been playing with their Barbies and Bratz dolls. I was exposed to a lot before I old enough to get my driver’s license.
Yet, he was my savior. His age and experience showed me to be happy in an unknown world. My youthfulness and naiveté taught him there was still innocence in the world.
He was bad for me. And just maybe, I was bad for him, too.
Bestselling and USA Today featured authorVera Roberts brings a hot new novella with Quench My Desire, a sexy venture into the music industry, May-September romances, and vibin’ with one’s true spirit.
“I really appreciate you giving me this song. I’m going to take your advice and not release it as a single but just as an appetizer on the album. It’ll be the last song.” He nods. “I think it’ll be an awesome way to end the album.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” I mention. “It’s another way of telling everyone you never left; you just took a break.”
“Don’t call it a comeback…” He begins.
“You’ve been here for years.” I wink at him.
Jax stares at me with such intensity, I feel my breath stolen. He leans closer to me and I wonder if he’s about to tell me I have something stuck in my teeth. Instead, he surprises me by capturing my lips with his.
His kiss wasn’t like any other I’ve ever had. He didn’t rush nor was he in a hurry to play tonsil hockey. Instead, Jax’s lips were full of confidence and skill. His tongue was experienced and welcoming, playing with mine and exploring my mouth.
Jax’s hands touched my face as he pulled me in closer. I got up from my chair and straddled him in his. His hands wandered all over my body, caressing my back, and reaching around to cup my breasts.
One hand unhooked my bra while the other caressed the freed breasts. He lifted up my shirt and stared down at my chest with an awe only reserved for those who just received the best news in their lives.
“You’re fucking beautiful, Mia.” He hoarsely whispered.
I swallowed, while I felt blood rush in my ears. My heart is beating so fast, it’s making me dizzy. I want this man. I’m about to fuck him in his studio and then I’m going to go home and soak in a hot bath.
My clit throbbed under my panties and I slowly ground against Jax. He became harder against his jeans and I wanted him deep inside of me. His breathing was ragged and hard, as if he was trying to keep up with me in some way.
“Jesus, Mia…” His voice let out a low rumble seeped in agony. “I’ve wanted you forever.” His lips covered one of my breasts and I moaned my appreciation. “So damn beautiful.”
I wrap my hands around Jax’s head as he feasts on me. I never had sex in a recording studio before but if I’m going to go there, it might as well be with the biggest celebrity on the planet. “Jax…”
Suddenly, Jax pulls away and his face becomes stoic. His eyes look around before they settle back on me. “Get dressed. Now.”
The words come out like staccato notes on the piano and I quickly put myself back together. I straighten out my top and move back to the sound boards. Jax stood up, ran a hand through his hair, and pops a piece of gum into his mouth.
I’m utterly confused as to what in the hell just happened. “Is everything okay Ja—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Jax greets his unexpected, yet expected guest – Karen.
Find out who Karen is and why she’s such a cockblock.
Savannah James was a known sex blogger under the pseudonym Aura Sky. A reader challenged her to spy on a couple having sex, and it was an offer she couldn’t refuse. But when she spies on her roommate’s brother and his then-girlfriend having sex, and then blogs about it, she opened up Pandora’s Box.
Blake Hutchinson loved three things: sex, women, and cars – and not necessarily in that order. When he and his ex-girlfriend decided to role-play one night, Blake could’ve sworn he felt another set of eyes watching from afar and enjoying the action herself. When a coworker talks about the hot sex blogger speaking about her recent voyeurism experiment, Blake discovers Savannah’s secret identity – and is determined to get to know more about her.
Fast cars, mechanical bulls, and more sex toys than a girl can imagine make up this sexy, summer read by bestselling author Vera Roberts.
“Well, we’re here.”
It was the unmistakable feeling that Savannah had felt when she ventured in dating guys she normally wouldn’t. Her idea of fun was going to an amusement park, music festival, or checking out spoken-word poetry.
The men she’d often dated were into ziplines, mountain climbing on real mountains, and going kayaking – all of the typical activities a woman with natural 4C hair probably wouldn’t do. Savannah had no issues staying on the sidelines as they explored their activities. She was also never surprised when it was eventually revealed her past paramours found those who liked the same things they did.
So, she should’ve been surprised after a night of walking the Strip, Blake took her to a country music club. Of course, the sleeved-up white dude would bring her black ass to a club where they both would get harassed. “What in the Ghetto Gaggers fresh hell is this?” She quietly asked after a few silent moments.
“It’s like Coyote Ugly,” he referenced the movie, “and they have a mechanical bull inside you can ride.”
“Coyote Ugly, huh?” Savannah smirked as she remembered the skinny supermodels in that movie. It was clear Blake was intent on embarrassing her. “I should really punch you in the dick hole.”
“Hey!” Blake stood in front of her. “What’s with the aggression?”
“You want to embarrass me and it’s becoming clear you’re hell-bent on that fact.” She folded her arms. “So, no President Fitz, I will not be your thirsty side chick, Olivia.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed and shook his head. “Who?”
“Uh, never mind.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to the suite.”
“Vannah,” Blake’s voice was low and feathered as he closed the distance between them, “you should know me well enough by now that I would never embarrass you, at least not intentionally.”
Blake’s brown eyes softened to a warm chocolate color. Savannah took a small inhale of his earthy cologne and felt the scent permeated her body, touching her senses, and crashing her back down to Earth.
“I don’t know that.” She remained defiant.
“Have you felt embarrassed at all during this trip?” He asked. He ran a hand through her locks and removed a piece of lint. “I say I’ve done a pretty good job at keeping you comfortable.”
Blake had done an excellent job at keeping Savannah uncomfortable was the truth. He was very respectful, engaged in intelligent conversation, and kept Savannah laughing. He was all sexy as all get out. He opened doors, and pulled out chairs. He even ordered for her whenever they went out.
His muscular frame crowded hers, yet she didn’t feel overwhelmed or suffocated. Instead, she felt comforted and warm. Her heart beat in a staccato rhythm and she struggled to keep up. Her mouth suddenly felt cottony, and a dampness in her panties appeared.
Blake was her best friend’s brother. There was a hard and fast rule Savannah had about men she wouldn’t pursue. Married men, men in relationships, men old enough to be her daddy, and most importantly, her best friend’s brother.
If things went south with the brother, things would go south with Courtney and Savannah couldn’t risk that. She kept her feelings at bay and her fingers busy at night while Blake remained a fantasy. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I don’t even know how to ride a bull.” Savannah offered.
“That’s the fun part, you just get on and learn as you go.” Blake winked and his lips curved into a delicious smile. “You can’t knock it until you try it, right?”
Blake was charming like a politician and gave a victory speech that would’ve made Savannah vote for him had he been running. She briefly wondered if Blake seeing her ride a bull was his practice to see if how she would ride him.
Snap out of it, Vannah.
It had been so long Savannah had been with an actual man, and not a boy who pretended to be one. Savannah didn’t want to make too much into Blake’s treatment of her. For all she knew, it was his representative she saw and not the true, despicable him that often showed up several months later whenever she dated other men.
Blake was not like other men she’d dated in the past and that was the issue. She was in lust with the man and that was a no-no.“No video.”
“No video,” he agreed and held out his arm for her to interlock, “shall we, milady?”
Savannah grabbed Blake’s arm and walked inside with him. “We shall.”
“Just a quick question,” Blake began as they made their way to their seats. “How do you know about Ghetto Gaggers?”
“I think the real question is how do you know about Ghetto Gaggers?” Savannah looked over and smiled.
Aaliyah Smith never fully recovered from the devastating heartbreak her ex gave her years ago, going as far as moving out of the state and into a completely different time zone. Aaliyah knows as much as anyone, no matter how much white sage she burns, when the universe speaks to her, she needs to listen.
Ocean Ellison made the biggest mistake of his life when he left his ex without so much as saying a goodbye. Now he’s back to reclaim her and have her by his side as he solidifies his family’s legacy in the nation’s capitol.
He wants to unbreak her heart. She’s not sure if he deserves the privilege.
Her Ocean is a prequel erotic novella to Watercolors.
It’s not everyday the most famous man in America invites you to his home for the weekend.
No, I’m not going to the White House this weekend.
No, I’m not going to wine and dine with your favorite pop star.
I have the luxury of being the VIP guest of one Jackson Fischer.
I’m sure you’ve heard of him – he’s the founder and proprietor of Fischer Enterprises, which owns the world’s most-famous brothel, The Honey Ranch. Seducing viewers every week on Showtime, Jackson introduces us to another side of the billion-dollar sex worker industry.
Earning record-breaking views on cable TV and on YouTube where the not-so illicit clips are available, the Garden of Eden reality show is America’s growing fascination with sex and feminism, though some would argue there’s nothing feminist about the show and the women are being exploited.
We get to follow the women’s lives as they entertain clients, go shopping for clothes, and even get into fights with each other over mundane (who used up someone’s shampoo) to serious (who’s been stealing money out of the rooms).
It’s like the Bunny Ranch meets Girls Next Door. Except we’re not dealing with the older and well-aged owners of Dennis Hof and Hugh Hefner, respectively. We’re dealing with a modern-day rock star in his own right.
I’ll be staying for a few days inside the ranch, getting to know Jackson and a few of his girls. Of course, scoring this interview was not easy. I had to reassure him several times that I was not a part of some radical feminist group and I wasn’t about to do some sting operation on him. After several background checks and vetting me out with multiple people, I’m on my way.
As I arrive to the pearly white gates of the Honey Ranch, he personally comes out to greet me. He’s much taller than I’d expected and to my surprise, a lot more muscular as revealed in his simple attire of a T-shirt and jeans. He’s wearing aviator shades and his sandy blond hair has the right amount of bedhead.
Ladies, he’s even more gorgeous in person.
“Ms. Abigail Martin,” he flashes a perfect smile as I step out of the rental car. He greets me with a kiss on each cheek before he picks up my luggage and carries it inside. “Welcome to my ranch.”
It’s clear he’s not joking when he says it’s a ranch. It spreads over several acres and boasts of a tennis court, an Olympic-sized pool, two full-length bars both in and outside, and several bedrooms and bathrooms. There’s a movie theater, a very impressive wine cellar, an indoor gym, basketball court, and Real World-style confessional room (“That’s strictly for the cameras,” Jackson noted, “that wasn’t there before and it’ll be removed once we stop filming.”).
Jackson’s palatial estate is also on the property, just a few feet away and where he sleeps at night. He works the majority of the time from his home office and takes a golf cart ride to the brothel several days a week to make sure everything is okay. He never announces his visits but the girls know to expect him at any time and at any hour.
We sit in a private area of the ranch where a chef serves us lunch. The one thing everyone talks about on the show, besides the undeniable sexiness of Jackson and the likable girls, is how amazing the food is and I have to agree. Jackson eats a kobe cheeseburger while I’m devouring one of the best chicken Caesar salads ever. I’ve been dying to try the most-hyped up lemonade since every guest on the show swears it beats Hot Dog on a Stick’s. The peach julep lemonade with the sprig of mint is what wet dreams are made of. I would personally come back to this ranch for the food.
“You’re the most-famous man in America,” I begin.
“Mmm,” Jackson takes a bite of his burger and slowly chews it. He has a look of discontent as if I told him some bad news.
“You don’t like being the most-famous man in America?” I prod.
“It’s not that; it’s just a title,” he shrugs it off like it means nothing and it probably doesn’t to him. “Anyone can be famous. All you need nowadays is a camera and internet access,” he snaps his fingers, “instant fame. Being important takes more work.”
“So you’d rather be important than be famous?”
“I don’t know what I’d rather be, honestly.” It seems the question bothers him more than it should but not enough to have a sit-down with Dr. Phil and discuss where he went wrong in life. “But that famous title is entertaining.”
“How does your family feel about your notoriety?” I carefully ask, stepping into territory that could easily get me kicked out and I’ve only been here for an hour. It’s been well-documented that Jackson and his parents have a very cool relationship. And when I say cool, I mean AC cold. One of the most-viewed and discussed episodes was when Jackson and his father, Don, were out on a shooting range. While Don struggled to hit his target, Jackson had perfect aim. (“I was thinking of your face,” Jackson responded when Don asked about his shots.)
“They’re not proud,” he admits, “but they know it could be worse so they shut up about it.” He pauses while chewing a sweet potato fry. “Thanksgiving isn’t bad and everyone loves their gifts come Christmas so money talks.”
“Do you wish you had a closer relationship?”
“I wish for a lot of things; it doesn’t mean they’re going to come true.” His blue eyes have a slight touch of sadness that indicates the parents-son relationship still has a ways to go in being repaired. “But it never stops me from trying.”
“Let’s talk about your image,” I quickly change the subject to something lighter for both of us, “you’re celebrated for being a pimp. Does that bother you?”
He laughs at my question, though I’m wondering if it’s me he’s really laughing at. “When you think of the stereotypical image of a pimp, my face isn’t what you think of. You think of Ice-T, who has admitted it. You think of Snoop Dogg, who has parlayed in it. You don’t think of Malibu Ken.” His eyes sparkle between deviousness and playfulness. “When you think of a pimp, you’re thinking of the sleaziest of sleazy Black guy, and it’s racist. Does anyone call Hugh Hefner a pimp? Does anyone call Dennis Hof a pimp? Does anyone call me a pimp? No, because we’re White.”
“So you consider yourself a pimp, then?”
“I’m a businessman,” he politely corrects, “I’ve always have been and I’ll always will be.”
“I bet if you ask a pimp that he’d say the same thing.”
“If the women are willingly doing it on their own, who’s pimping who?” He counters. “If anyone is getting pimped here, it’s those who come to visit. Believe me, they are well aware of what’s going on and they keep coming back.”
“Doesn’t that bother you in some way?” I ask. “That people admire you for doing this?”
“It seems it bothers you that I’m unbothered,” he smiles.
“What about your love life? I mean, some father is watching your show and going, ‘He’s coming nowhere near my daughter.’”
“Some, but not all,” he implies and a wide smile spreads across his face, indicating his fan club is much bigger than most people want to admit. “You already have this theory if you were a man, had a daughter, and saw me on TV every week, you would keep your baby girl as far away from me as possible. That’s honorable. You refuse to acknowledge there are some girls who know what I do and they don’t care. It’s what they allow me to get away with.”
“And what do they allow you to get away with?”
“I’ll have a beer with your dad, give flowers to your mom, treat you like a queen, and then take you home and blow your back out.” He gives yet another sexy smile. “Frankly, that’s what every woman wants, no matter what the guy does for a living.”
Part 2 of Jackson’s interview will be out next week.
When Love Calls (Jackson & Liane 2) will be out around September 15th.