And the countdown begins!

December 12th 2016

    Teal pursed her lips and smacked his chest. Ducking out from under him, she said, “Finish up those dishes. You promised to take me out for dinner tonight.”

    Trent went back to finishing up the dishes. “When did this happen?”

    “You didn’t think I was going to come all the way down here and allow you to hold me hostage in bed, did you?” She turned and strutted away, her thick ass swaying. “I want to go to that carnival thing in the next town over.” She walked into the laundry room and reached in the dryer. “The one over in . . .” She leaned up and looked to him. Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the word she saying. “Muth-uss-sas?”

    “Mathoussa,” he corrected. Turning away, he scrubbed a dish, paying close attention to the bacon grease that still lingered. He listened as Teal went on about her love of carnivals. Her dulcet voice lulled him into a false calm, damned near making him forget his issues with crowded and loud places. Trent could deal with them for an hour or so, but even then, the sick feeling in his stomach and his headaches would start.

     His heart raced at the idea of spending more than a second in a crowded, noisy-ass place with complete strangers. He could see how easily anyone could use such a crowded place for their agenda. Hell, the Boston Marathon bombings, the subways in New York, and—

    A soft hand gripped his shoulder. “Baby?”

He recognized Teal’s soothing voice as soon as she’d spoken.

    “Shit, wait here. Let me get a towel.” Before he could say a word, she’d disappeared into the bathroom.

    Trent’s surroundings came back into focus and his gaze moved to the sink. The dish water had a red hue swirling into the sudsy water. What the fuck had Teal made? He didn’t remember any pasta sauce.

The sound of Teal’s feet pounding back to him pulled his gaze up. The fear in her eyes had him pulling her into his arms.   “Shit, what’s—”

    Teal pulled from his arms just as fast as he’d grabbed her. “Careful!”

He glanced down at her to see blood smeared on her arm. His eyes widened, but she gave him no time to react. Yanking his hand from her, she showed him what she’d gone crazy over. Teal shoved his hand up to his face and Trent saw a large gash from the middle of his palm to his wrist. His eyes widened at the sight.

    Trent pulled his hand from Teal. “What the fuck?” He looked to her as if she had the answer.

    She swallowed hard before she spoke. “I was talking and I looked up at you. Your shoulders were tense and you weren’t responding to me, so I came over and you’d broken a dish, or a cup or something.”

Shame heated Trent’s face at the look of concern in her eyes. Trent looked away, disgusted by the pity in her gaze; he could take that shit from strangers, but not from Teal. Pushing past her, he headed to the bathroom. He ignored her as she called after him, slamming the door in her face as she attempted to follow him in the bathroom.

Her shocked gasp and thump on the door reminded him of just who was on the other side. She’d raise hell if he left her out there, but Trent just couldn’t bring himself to open the fucking door. Instead, he opened the First Aid kit on the side of his tub and pulled out his supplies.

    “Lord have mercy, just open the damn door,” came Teal’s muffled voice.

Trent rinsed the cut under the faucet and assessed his wound. While it was deep, he could get away with using skin glue instead of heading to the nearest Urgent Care center for stitches.

    “Hey!” She knocked harder on the door. “You think I’ll be squeamish at the sight of blood?

Trent tried to ignore her voice, but her concern ate at him. After trying several times to work with one hand, he finally opened the door.

Teal stood, leaning against the wall, still holding the towel she’d ran to get for him.     “Oh, now you want my help?” Her hand made it to her hip, just as he made to slam the door again.

    Teal caught the door with her palm. “Hey, hey, hey.” She entered the bathroom. “Let me see.”

He grunted and held up his hand, wincing when she grimaced. “Aw hell, Teal. It ain’t that bad.” He viewed the wound again, then motioned to the First Aid kit. “Take out that glue there.”

    “Glue? Hell no. That nasty shit needs stitches.” Dropping the towel, she took his wounded hand in hers. Moving it from side to side to gauge the depth of the cut. “Maybe not. The bleeding is just a slow trickle.”

Trent watched as she flipped the glue box over several times, reading the instructions. He smiled as her lips moved, but no sound escaped them. Finally, she pulled the pen from the box and removed the cap.

“This may sting a little,” she said, but Trent sensed she was speaking more to herself than to him. Her quiet tone turned to a whisper as she berated the pen for not working as she’d expected it to.        “This fucking thing,” she muttered.

Trent used his unharmed hand to gently pull the pen from Teal’s fingers.        Flipping it over in his hand, he pressed the release button at the top. “Sometimes it sticks.”

She took the pen back and placed it on the counter beside them. Trent opened his hand and displayed it for her. She took the towel and dabbed the wound clean. He felt nothing but her soft warm fingers moving over his skin.

She sanitized his hand, glued the wound shut, and wrapped it in gauze. Her delicate touch soothed him so much that her next words didn’t register. Releasing his hand she asked again, “Does it hurt?”

    At her question, he stopped staring at her beautiful face and blinked. Clearing his throat, he glanced down at her handiwork. A throbbing pain pulsed through his hand and up his arm. Why hadn't he felt the pain until now? Looking back at her, he shook his head.

    Cocking a brow, Teal placed a hand on her hip. “Okay, now that we got that taken care of, what the fuck is going on?” Eyeing him observantly she added, “You had that same glazed look in your eyes the day of my crash. Like you weren’t fully there.” She crossed her hand over her chest and sighed.

Trent knew he needed to tell her the truth about his episodes, but that was easier said than done. He’d mentioned his PTSD before, but hadn't gone in detail about his triggers. He avoided her gaze by moving around, cleaning the bloodied towels. “Glazed look?”

    “Yeah, it was as if you weren’t there, Trent. What happened? Was it the carnival?”

Trent turned to her when she went silent. “Ever since my experience overseas, I—” He shrugged, not able to say the words. The last thing he wanted was to talk about PTSD with her again. As if the mandatory meetings all those years back hadn't been enough, now he’d have to wade through the mess with Teal. He trusted her more than anyone else in his life, but that didn’t make speaking about the illness any less traumatic. He was ashamed and embarrassed.

Seven more days until Indelible's release!

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A Future Worth Fighting For | Indelible: Beneath His Ink

Giveaway below!! <3 

The leaves are still changing and I have the sniffles! Winter is coming and so are Teal and Trent!

Former Marine, Trent Reed, is in desperate need of a Hail Mary.

With each failed attempt to convince his woman to pack up and move to Kentucky, his past finds some new way to rear its ugly head. But when his pregnant ex plows into his life, all hell breaks loose—unearthing parts of his past he wished would stay buried.

Two weeks of vacation with her man? Hell yeah, that is exactly what Teal Lofton’s libido needs. And after surviving seven months apart, their reunion doesn’t disappoint. What she didn’t account for was an unfortunate encounter with people from Trent’s past. A racist, a druggie, and a double-barreled shotgun, culminate into a vacation that will alter the course of her life forever.

Check out a preview of Katie & Logan in incarcerated & Teal & Trent in inevitable!

Indelible Excerpt

Part 1 Kentucky 2001

“Fuck this shit,” Trent muttered, as beads of sweat gathered from the top of his head to the crack of his ass. Lifting his hands, he grabbed hold of the vehicle’s undercarriage and rolled himself out from underneath. For the life of him, he could not comprehend why the owner of this ‘69 Camaro continued to treat this baby as if it was some fucking Chevy Malibu.

Groaning, he stretched and stood, releasing the aches and pains from laying prone in one spot for so long. Using his arm, he swept the sweat away from his forehead, and took a few steps out of the partially covered garage and into the scorching sun. As the sun’s rays beat down on his skin, he lifted the sleeveless shirt he’d discarded earlier and wiped the remaining sweat from his face and neck.

The mid-summer sun had become a sweltering beast, transforming his skin from its normal pale coloring to a deep, dark bronze. He’d avoided a farmer’s tan solely because it was too damned hot to wear a shirt while working, unless he absolutely had to. Kentucky’s heat was so oppressive, Trent had considered—on more than one occasion—moving to a colder state. Maybe one that actually had a winter, and a mild-ass summer. The bar he frequented out of town even had a signature summer drink called Devil’s Ball Sweat, and as repulsive as it sounded, the drink itself was damned good. The thought of it had his mouth watering.

      On leave from the Marines, Trent had found his way back home, and into the familiar grease and fumes of the auto body shop, where he’d slaved away as a teenager. But life had changed since high school. Trent was now in his mid-twenties, part owner of a garage, fully enlisted in the Marines, and waiting for the call of duty.

Logan’s voice pulled Trent from his musings and he near jumped out of his skin.

His friend’s brow lifted as he deliberately ignored Trent’s jitteriness. “Hey, man. You hungry?”

As if on cue, Trent’s stomach roared. He placed a greasy hand over his eyes, shielding the sun’s glare, to find Logan headed toward him with a 7/11 bag in hand. Trent nodded and moved to the sink, squirting some Fast Orange into his hands. Using his elbow to turn on the hot water, he shoved his hands under the steaming spray.

      “You gonna work on this all day, or you planning on taking a real break? You’ve only been back home a few weeks and you haven’t done shit with anybody. Barely been out of the house.”

Trent turned to see a couple of hotdogs, a bag of chips, and a forty sitting on his workbench. Logan had already started in on his own food. Trent’s mouth watered at the sight. He’d been in the heat for most of the day, and skipping breaks to shorten the workday made sense, until he was dizzy with hunger, of course. Drying his hands, he grabbed a milk crate and carried it over to the workbench and sat down.

      Trent had ignored Logan’s question, but his friend stared at him expectantly. Between gulps of his beer and a bite of his hot dog, he gave in. “Who’s been asking?”

      Logan shook his head and took a hefty drink of his soda. He’d never been much of a drinker. “Nobody. It’s just, before you left, you were all over the place. This bar, that club, and now that you’re back . . .” he shrugged and let the sentence hang in the air.

Trent didn’t need anyone worrying about him. Besides, he’d gone to Gator’s a few times since his return. He’d taken care of himself for the past decade, with little to no help, yet Rhonda, the garage’s accountant, who’d taken a shining to Trent, was always up his ass about finding a woman and settling down.

That was the thing about a lot of women in the South. They always wanted to bag a man, settle down, and duplicate, but Trent wasn’t trying to hear it. The military had helped him perfect his ability to survive on his own. He didn’t need anyone else.

      He moved the bottle from his lips and set down the chili and cheese hotdog, his stomach groaning in protest. “You been talking to Rhonda?” Trent couldn’t hold back his anger. Rhonda seemed to think she had his best interest at heart—her words, not his—and that shit was getting old.

      Logan lifted his chin. “You always get pissed when she comes around. You messing with her?” Eying Trent with half-veiled disapproval, he added, “I see the way she looks at you, and that shit ain’t right. She’s old enough to be your mother.” He scarfed down the rest of his hotdog, while managing to keep a grimace on his face.

      Trent cocked a brow. “I can tell you one thing. I’ve never seen a better pair of tits on a woman her age.” He smiled wildly at Logan’s appalled glare, waggling his eyebrows to goad him further.

Logan had less years under his belt, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d call the man a virgin. Yeah, Rhonda was in her mid-forties, but damned if she didn’t have long legs, a round ass, and tits too firm and high to be real. He could only imagine the things she knew and would be willing to do.

      “Whatever, man. I brought it up because I’m headed to Louisville for a party. You want in?”

      Trent finished one hotdog and opened the second before answering. “Who the hell wants to drive almost two hours for some party?” He shoved half the dog in his mouth.

      Logan shoved his hands through his hair and stood. “Look, it’s been nothing but boring ass work since you’ve been gone. Hell, maybe I’ll join the military.” He picked up his trash and threw it in the nearby can. “There ain’t nothing to do here, other than work.”

Trent glanced up at the man. Was he actually thinking of joining the military out of boredom? There wasn’t a war going on, but being owned by the government was no picnic.

      Trent started in on his chips. “Who do you know in Louisville that’s got you willin’ to drive over there for a party?”

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Indelible: Beneath His Ink COVER REVEAL

INDELIBLE: BENEATH HIS INK

December 12th, 2016

Former Marine, Trent Reed, is in desperate need of a Hail Mary.

With each failed attempt to convince his woman to pack up and move to Kentucky, his past finds some new way to rear its ugly head. But when his pregnant ex plows into his life, all hell breaks loose—unearthing parts of his past he wished would stay buried.

Two weeks of vacation with her man? Hell yeah, that is exactly what Teal Lofton’s libido needs. And after surviving seven months apart, their reunion doesn’t disappoint. What she didn’t account for was an unfortunate encounter with people from Trent’s past.

A racist, a druggie, and a double-barreled shotgun culminate into a vacation that will alter the course of her life forever.

December 12th, 2016

Indelible is coming to audio soon!

Take A Peek at Indelible: Beneath His Ink

COMING DECEMBER 12th, 2016

Trent, a man who’d come from a shit home in Kentucky, held close to him his greatest treasure. Sappy as that shit sounded, he could think of no other way to describe it. It hadn’t even been a year, and she’d already showed him what it was like to truly be loved.

Teal had become his rock, the light at the end of the tunnel, but she had also become more than a beacon towards happiness. She’d become his connection to a new world. One in which he was expected to be open and honest, caring and kind; but most of all, Teal expected Trent to live up to old expectations. The phone started its chiming again, only this time, he recognized the sound as Teal’s email notification, and again he ignored it.

    Trent rested his head on his palm and watched the rise and fall of Teal’s chest as she slept. If she woke up now, she’d most definitely curse him out for being what she called a creepy-ass stalker. He took in her slightly parted lips, until she rolled over, giving him a glorious view of her round ass.

    His voice must have caught her attention. “What the fuck, Trent?” She rolled back over and eyed him.

Trent took in her mussed up curls and sleep-filled eyes. She slept with a black silk thing wrapped around her head. He found it hilarious that her wild sleeping habits had the material hanging off her head. “What?”

    With a groan, Teal sat up. “We’ve talked about this.” She shoved a mass of curls out of her face, the motion pushing her chest out. He was damned glad he’d talked her into sleeping nude.

    Trent reached up and squeezed a breast. “Talked about what?” Goosebumps broke out over her skin as he kneaded her smooth flesh.

    She shooed his hand away. “Staring at me while I sleep.” She scooted off the bed and Trent followed. “Is it some creepy white man thing?”

    He followed her as she headed into the bathroom, taking a quick glance at the clock. He’d need to head to the shop in an hour or so. “Nothing to do with race, baby girl.” Trent moved past her and started the shower. “And everything to do with that fine, plump ass.” He turned around just as she finished brushing her teeth. “One of these days, you’re going to let me fuck it.” He smirked at her grimace, and moved closer.

    Throwing a hand out, she stopped him mid-step. “I am going to tell you now. That big thing,” she pointed to his crotch, “isn’t going anywhere near my ass.”

Trent pushed past her hand and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her neck and made his way to her lips. After a searing kiss, he released her and stepped into the shower.

    Pushing open the shower curtain, Teal stepped in behind him. “What all do you have to do at the shop today?” She busied herself with washing his back, as he massaged shampoo into his hair.

    “I need to go over payroll. And since I’m down a few men,” he sighed, “I may need to do a couple of extra jobs, so we aren’t too far behind after the holiday.” The fact that he was dating a black woman had spread faster than herpes in a whorehouse. “You still staying a week past the forth?”

    “Yeah, I took the full two weeks, just like you asked.” She finished his back and adjusted the water to rinse him off.

Trent stuck his head under the stream before he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist.             “I’d bring you to the shop, but you’d be bored out of your mind. Plus, here, you have TV and food. That’s at least something for you to do.” He dried off, then rubbed the towel over his head. Teal stepped out behind him and he wrapped the towel around her body. Leaning in for another kiss, he pulled back when it wasn’t returned. “What?”

     Holding the towel around her, she took a step back and sighed. “I kind of feel guilty about you losing those two guys. Yes, they were racist dicks, but it hurt business.”

Trent took her hand and led her into the bedroom, where he pulled out his work clothes.        “It’s been a hassle for sure, but I can assure you, it is all on me.” He wasn’t lying. His own actions had led to him hiring deplorable men in order to keep up a façade. Trent felt like shit that his hotheadedness from years ago had cast a shadow over their relationship today, and he was working hard as fuck to fix the situation. As always though, his past came back to bite him in the ass.

    Teal dropped the towel and moved to her suitcase. “So, what about Harper?” She slipped on a pair of shorts and threw one of his shirts over her head. “Have you heard anything since the last letter?”

Talk about my past haunting me . . .

Turning to face him, she picked up a bottle from her suitcase and poured some pink liquid into her palm. Rubbing her hands together, she spread the stuff throughout her hair.

It was odd to him. There was supposed to be some huge difference when it came to a black woman’s hair, versus a white woman’s hair, but Trent hadn't noticed a thing. Teal got her hair wet the same way Shayla had, and she styled and used similar shit in her hair as well.

    “Trent?” Teal’s voice was louder than before, and he realized she’d been trying to get his attention.

    He sat down on the side of the bed and stuffed one foot into his boot. Unable to look at her, he kept his eyes on the grimy boot. “No, nothing.”

    She sat on the bed, her warm hand grabbing his. “Look, maybe she is still angry at the past.” Trent gave her a withering stare. “I know. She was the one who walked away, but I am more than positive you understand why she left the first time, and her fear of you and your friends the second.”

Trent moved his hand from beneath Teal’s and started on the second boot. Shame lanced through him when he realized that for all the honesty he required from Teal, he was unable to return it. He hadn't told her the truth about what had happened after Harper had left him standing there like a fool, and he sure as hell hadn't told her his actions were the reason she went running—not just the tattoo.