Philosopher George Santayana is quoted as saying, “Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.” I believe it’s true that if we don’t remember the mistakes of the past we’ll repeat them, but I also believe there are things in the past that are not only worth remembering, but repeating as well. Case in point: Arthur A. Schomburg.

For instance, what can you tell of someone’s past from their name? My real name is Anna Taylor Sweringen. Except perhaps that I’m female, what would you guess about me? From the way Sweringen sounds (swur-in-gen) would think Dutch or German? My husband’s family name was originally van Swearingen, so if you guessed Dutch you were right. But without meeting me, would you have guessed by that name I’m African American Manhattan born and Brooklyn bred?

What about Arthur A. Schomburg? Male? Maybe with some Latinx ancestry? Some European? You’d be right on all counts. Arturo Alfonso Schomburg was born in 1874 in Canegros,Puerto Rico of African and German ancestry. I first learned of Mr. Schomburg when as a teen I visited the Schomburg on 135th Street off Lenox avenue in Harlem. I remember learning there that one of Schomburg’s teachers told him black people had not contributed anything to history, that black people had no past to remember. Schomburg spent his life dispelling that myth. In 1926, the Carnegie Corporation gave the New York Public Library $10,000 to purchase his collection of books, artwork and other materials that by then exceeded 10,000 items. Mr. Schomburg served as the curator of the collection until his death in 1938. In 1972, the library’s collection was moved from its 135th building to a brand new building next door on the corner of Lenox Avenue and became the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture. The Center is now a National Historic Landmark and houses over eleven million items.

I’m now 62, but I’ve never forgotten the wonder and pride I felt in my youth as I walked from one end to the other of the original 135th street building looking at the sculptures, the paintings and the books created by people of African ancestry. I’ve always loved history in general, but I’m sure the seeds of my love for African and African American history in particular can trace their roots back to those visits. The Center is sowing similar seeds in present generations through their Junior Scholars and Teen Curators programs. One current exhibits includes work by the teen curators, combined with work by anthropologist Melville Herskovits, who like Schomburg also argued against the myth that those of African ancestry had no past.

If remembering the past leads to revelation and reverence in ways that uplift and inspire the better angels of our nature, then that’s a past I don’t mind being doomed to repeat. If you ever visit New York, make the Schomburg a must-see stop. Until then, enjoy it online at https://www.nypl.org/locations/schomburg.

One Breath Away

Sentenced to hang for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. Never having been courted, cuddled or spooned, Mary now fears any kind of physical intimacy when arousal forces her to relive the asphyxiation of her hanging. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.

Wealthy freeborn-Black Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing a relationship with Mary was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex.

Then just as Eban begins to win Mary’s trust, an enemy from the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…

Get your copy here!

God created something unique from Africa’s ebony clay when He made this one. Eban’s broad nose and high cheekbones belonged on a statue in a museum for all to enjoy. Legs long enough to cross the length of Texas in five strides brought Eban in her direction. An expensively tailored jacket hung off shoulders that could span the banks of the Rio Grande. A ruby glinted in his left earlobe and conspired with his shaved head to give him an air of mystery and menace.

Mary closed her eyes and again tried to resist his allure.

The devil often appears as an angel of light.

She sucked in a breath, opened her eyes, and gnawed her lip. This angel of light hadn’t stopped his approach. Clenching her thighs hadn’t stifled the desire swelling within her privates.

Hadn’t smothered the hope reviving in her heart.

Felicity slanted her head to the right. A coy smile gave the angle weight.

“And what brings you to our side of the room, stranger?” She repeated her breast-swelling move and grinned, peacock proud. “See something you like?”

Eban tapped a finger in salute at his brow. “More than like, miss.”

His smile turned up the heat in his gaze. Mary frowned, painfully aware the smell of her passion lingered in the air, despite the woolen barrier of her skirt.

He stepped forward so his hand-stitched boots stood toe-to-toe with Mary’s second-hand shoes. “Eban Thurman, at your service, Miss Hamilton. May I get you something to drink?”

At her service? The air congealed. Mary gasped, trying to suck in air too solid to inflate her lungs.

“No—no, thank you. I’m not thirsty.” Her stutter mimicked the tremor between her thighs. She clasped her hands and planted them hard against her lap.

“It’s a really hot night.” He turned his hand palm up in a silent plea. “Perhaps you’d find a waltz more cooling.” He eased his fingers into her clenched hands. “May I beg the honor of this dance?”

“Beg?”

“Yes, Miss Hamilton.” He tilted his head, slanting his smile to the right. “Beg.”

“You don’t strike me as the begging type, Mr. Thurman.”

“To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.” He tongue-swiped his full lips as if he’d just tasted something he wanted to taste again. “I know when it’s time to beg.”

Buy links:
Wild Rose Press: https://bit.ly/2Oog1Ny
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2DmrZWC

About the Author

A native New Yorker, Michal Scott is the pen name of Anna Taylor Sweringen, an ordained United Church of Christ and Presbyterian Church USA minister. Using the writings of the love mystics of Begijn for inspiration, Michal Scott writes Christian erotica and Christian erotic romance (i.e. erotica and erotic romance with a faith arc), hoping to build a bridge between the sacred and secular, spirituality and sexuality, erotica and Christ, her readers and a well-written spiritually-stimulating and erotically-arousing story. As an African American, she writes stories to give insight into the African American experience in the US. She has been writing romance seriously since joining Romance Writers of America in 2003 and had her first novel published in 2008. She writes inspirational romance as Anna Taylor and gothic romance as Anna M. Taylor. You can connect with Anna on Twitter @mscottauthor1 and learn more about her and her writing at her various websites: www.michalscott.webs.com, www.annamtaylor.webs.com and www.annataylor2678.webs.com.

Long before I published my first book (way back in 2013), my wife turned me on to classic movies, and, specifically Turner Classic Movies. The channel is on in our home most every night.

Several of my novels reference classic films – in my first novel, DREAM STUDENT, on her first date with the man who will one day become her husband, our heroine goes to a screening of THE THIN MAN. In the first Jane Barnaby Adventure, FINDERS KEEPERS, there’s an extended joke where the punchline is from the classic GOODBYE MR. CHIPS.

But in my newest book, a romance novella that’s out today, in fact, the whole plot revolves around classic movies. In A REEL CHRISTMAS IN ROMANCE, our heroine, Marianne Carter, is the owner of the only movie theater in the town of Romance, Oregon. The theater is an old-time movie palace, built in the 1930’s, and, following instructions laid down by her grandfather, it doesn’t play any movie made after 1955 (because that’s the year James Dean first appeared on the silver screen, and in Grandpa Carter’s words, “That’s when the world started to go to hell.”)

Marianne is carrying on an email correspondence with a well-spoken man whose real name she doesn’t know, and a flirtation with a man she keeps bumping into on the street. Not much of a spoiler alert: those two men are one and the same! So she’s playing out the plot of THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER, and poor Marianne doesn’t even know that she’s taken over the role of the heroine in one of her favorite movies…

Owner of the lone movie theater in Romance, Marianne Carter loves the old movies she shows on the big screen. She’s just struck up an email friendship with a newcomer to town. Unaware of his identity but feeling loyal to him, she fights her attraction to a handsome man she keeps bumping into around town.

Under a false identity, Jack Nelson comes to Romance to investigate the historic movie theater and decide if it should receive the status of a historical landmark. Little does he know the woman sending him charming emails is the same one who owns the theater.

While Marianne’s theater plays the old classic film The Shop Around the Corner, Marianne and Jack unknowingly play out the same story in real life. Will they figure it out in time to write their own happy ending?

Get your copy here!

It’s a fun, funny, breezy romance, and I hope you’ll enjoy it! And what’s really cool is that it’s only one book out of a collection of six Christmas in Romance novellas. You can find them all at: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07J1X4ZCR

You can follow me at my website – www.jjdibenedetto.com, or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jjdibenedettoauthor.

Contest

Win a $5 Amazon gift card! All you have to do is tell me whether you’re reading this blog on your phone, desktop, or laptop!

*~*~*

Okay, so the cover is interesting. Not great, but you’d never guess how hard it is to find sexy “prison” photos. Lockdown is the second in the Veiled Alliance series, and is a re-release, but I’m betting hardly anyone has read it, am I right?

I’ll be uploading it into Amazon tomorrow, because I want to make sure it’s available on Tuesday, its official release date. I would have set it up for you to pre-order a long time ago, but alas, I’ve lost my pre-order rights until September of next year. Yeah, makes me cry. Things like having your dad fall and break his hip and have to have surgery in a far-flung place, and then going to rehab, all of which puts a huge dent in a writer’s writing schedule, aren’t good enough excuses. Especially after I had to slide a release date earlier this year due to my grandmother’s death. I’m thinking Amazon considers that a “the dog ate my homework” kind of excuse. So, I lost my privilege.

Which causes all kinds of difficulties for an author when she’s trying to get the word out. Everything waits until release date. Still, I figure you might want to know whether this is something you should mark on your calendar to get. So, do you like paranormal stories? Like a bit of horror thrown in? Love uber-sexy scenes, some threesomes, with human and otherkin partners? Well, maybe, just maybe, you’ll want to mark down this one. TUESDAY, folks! If not sooner. 🙂

Here’s a snippet…

After surviving an attack by a prisoner, corrections officer Gillian Priest arrives at her new unit, determined not to ever let her guard down again. Things get complicated when a handsome new prisoner enters her dreams and seduces her. When fellow officer Billy Hedron makes a pass, she’s already primed, ready to ease the arousal her sexy dreams have left with a more appropriate mate.

Billy Hedron knows his old Marine buddy Gabriel Vlahos is posing as a prisoner to find a demon within the prison walls, and who better to hunt one than an incubus? When his buddy seduces Gillian in her dreams, Billy stands ready to serve the needs his friend stirs up in the attractive woman. But things take a deadly turn when the demon they seek decides it’s time to take them all to hell.

Gillian blinked when he first appeared. She’d been sitting on the porch of her family’s cabin at Canyon Lake, Texas on a hot summer’s day. Nothing to think about except how much she missed this place.

Only she’d been alone. Her sister didn’t play on the edge of the water. Her brother wasn’t casting a line into the water, hoping to catch supper. Her mother and father weren’t in the hammocks strung beneath the live oaks, laughing softly to themselves.

And yet, she’d felt peaceful.

What the hell was Vlahos doing in her dream? He stood at the bottom of the steps. His smile was slow.

“It’s not fair you look so damn good,” she groused. God, had she just said that out loud?

“It’s a dream,” he said, climbing the porch steps. “No place for secrets here.” He turned toward the lake, his gaze scanning his surroundings.

“It’s nice.”

He didn’t belong here. Not in her special place. “I don’t want you here. You’re strictly off limits.”

He unbuttoned his coverall and pushed it down his legs. The boxers beneath quickly followed.

Gillian’s chest lifted around a swift gasp. His body was perfectly formed—broad shoulders, lean abdomen, chiseled cuts bisecting the muscle layered down his belly in perfect rows. His cock was gorgeous as well. Long and straight with a pretty tapered crown. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting comfortable. Preparing to give you what we both need.”

“I don’t need to see you naked,” she said huffily.

“Then close your eyes.”

“As if. You’re a murderer.”

His lips curled in that feline smile of his. “Things aren’t always what they seem. And this is only a dream.”

“I suppose you’re innocent,” she said, her voice catching.

His head canted, and he sat on the wooden step beside her. “That didn’t sound like sarcasm. That was pain.”

She shook her head. “It’s none of your goddamn business.”

“And I don’t really have the time. But hold that thought. Pain works for me, too.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, growing alarmed at his mention of pain.

He turned suddenly, his hands coming down on either side of her, his body rising over hers and pressing her to the porch floor.
Her hands came up between them. “Get off me.”

“Do you really want me to? Don’t you want to see whether you can orgasm inside a dream? Have you done it before?”

“I usually wake up,” she said, then groaned at admitting something so personal.

“What if I promise it won’t happen this time.”

“You’re still a goddamn convict. I shouldn’t be with you, even if this is just a dream. I don’t want you in my head.”

“Then find someone else to fuck when you’re awake. Right now, I need you every bit as much as you need this. So, just shut up.”

His lips slammed into hers, grinding the soft tissue inside against her teeth. She tasted blood.

Some dream.

But that was all it was. A dream. She could do this. Follow it wherever it led, and no one would ever know.

“That’s right,” he said, lifting his mouth from hers. “Just you and me.”

Gillian looked up at him, at the need stretching his skin tautly across his sharp cheekbones and lending a harsh edge to his solid jaw. At the tension in his shoulders and arms as he held himself. Waiting.

For her to accept this? For her to give him permission to proceed. “I don’t like that you can see inside my mind.”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he said softly. “From here on out.”

“Why do you need this so badly?”

“I feel your hunger, your loneliness—your pain. I don’t know where it comes from, but I need it to fill me.”

“Why?”

“Because I need emotion to sustain me. Bad times are coming. I have to be strong.”

“What about me, and what I need?” she whispered harshly. “This is my dream, my body, you’re getting ready to take.”

“You’ve already thought ahead to what will happen?”

“I know I want to you to fuck me. See if it’s possible to do what you said.”

“Come inside your dream?”

She almost smiled as his lips curled, lending his hard features a surprisingly whimsical expression.

“Tomorrow,” he said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead, “you’ll watch me and feel a little nostalgic, a little sad that this didn’t really happen.”

“Tomorrow, when I watch you shower,” she bit out, “I’ll probably be disappointed that I didn’t get the details right.”

His eyebrows lifted. “And maybe you won’t.”

Needing to erect an emotional barrier between them, she lifted her chin. “I have my eye on another man. Someone more suitable.”

“Hedron?”

She wasn’t surprised this time that he’d guessed so accurately. He was just an extension of her subconscious after all. “Yes. And he’s built like a goddamn bull.”

One side of his mouth quirked upward. “Trying to make me jealous?”

“Is it working?”

“Yes. Now, shut up.” His hands gripped the edges of her sleeveless cotton blouse and ripped it open.

She jerked against him but stopped trying to fight him. When his hands tugged her shorts down her hips, and the lacy scrap that passed for underwear with it, she mewled.

Then he was on her, inside her, shoving his perfect cock deep. She was already hurtling high and hoping like hell the phone wouldn’t ring and pull her away, because she thought that just maybe he’d do it. Bring her body to orgasm.

But suddenly, something else started to happen inside her. Something that sucked away her breath, her will, left her quivering and shaken because she couldn’t break free of the grip of whatever it was thrusting straight inside her chest and mind. But the pressure in her chest couldn’t compete with his luscious assault further down her body.

*~*~*

And if you haven’t read the first story, check it out!

 

When police officer Sinead O’Rourke returns to duty months after being shot in an incident that claimed her partner, she knows it’s not going to be easy. Despite being cleared of any negligence, her fellow officers still wonder whether she’s responsible for his death. One more problem is that everyone knows she claims to have seen his ghost. After months of rehabilitation and lying like hell about the fact she’s not seeing spooks anymore, Sin’s determined to get back into the saddle.

Jake Chappa doesn’t want to partner with Sin. Been there, done that–couldn’t keep his hands off her the first time around. She’s too much of a distraction, and her penchant for rushing into trouble scares the heck out of him. Despite wishing she’d quit her job, he’s still deeply attracted. When an armed robbery goes down and something happens that rattles Sin to the core, he’s right there–ready to cover her back and her sweet body.

Get your copy here!

The month of November is full of opportunities to observe, remember and celebrate special causes, events and people. Some of personal interest to me are National Radiologic Technology Week because I just received my Dental Radiology License and Veterans Day because I’m proud to have served. Thanksgiving gives us the opportunity to remember what we are grateful for… in the company of friends and family, while watching football and eating huge amounts of comfort food.

But a few weeks before, we start preparing turkey and watching Charlie Brown concoct a feast of potato chips and toast, we have a day to celebrate authors and the books they write. November 1st is National Authors Day.

The idea was originated in 1928 by Nellie Verne Burt McPherson an avid reader and president of the Bement, Illinois Women’s Club. a resolution was passed, declaring November 1 as a day to honor American writers. But if you ask me, National Author’s Day should really be November 30th. You see, November 1st is not only National Author’s Day, it also marks the beginning of National Novel Writing Month or NaNoWriMo, a thirty-day period during which many writers bleed, sweat and cry onto the pages of their latest work. As participants race to write 50,000 in 30 days, there’s likely some frenzied hair pulling and heads banging on desks all over the world. So, the end of November is when there should be balloons released and confetti thrown wherever these writers go. Free wine and coffee should be made available in abundance to all authors to celebrate their work, dedication and willingness to present a piece of themselves to the world.

So, raise your glass, thank an author, support them if they’re participating in NaNo. Buy a book, or request it at your library or local book store. Write a review. Share a book and author’s info with a friend. Post it on social media. On November 1st, throughout the month of and any day — really, show your support for the authors who’ve entertained you, scared you, made you laugh or made you to cry.

About the Author

Sha Renée is a native New Yorker who joined the US Navy right after high school. She now lives in New Jersey where she creates stories on the pages where duty, honor and passion unite.

Sha loves meeting people and attends book-signing events and conferences whenever she can. She also enjoys networking with other writers and is a member of RomVets (military women and veterans who are writers), Liberty States Fiction Writers and Marketing for Romance Writers. She is also the creator and organizer of Emerging Authors of New Jersey.

A true nature lover, Sha enjoys spending time outdoors, usually with a camera in her hands. She has a passion for motorcycles and sports cars and is a fan of auto racing, military air shows and The X Games – pretty much any high-speed activity involving wheels or wings.

She hates cooking, loves music and believes every day should include a cup of hot coffee and a glass of chilled wine.

Her Military Romance, Forbidden Kisses, is available on Amazon.

Forbidden Kisses

When Navy pilot, Ethan Parker falls for the woman he met at a coffee shop, he knows she’s the one he’s waited his entire life for. She’s sensual, sassy and smart. What he doesn’t know is she’s also in the Navy, and her enlisted rank means a relationship with her could potentially get him discharged from military service.

While on leave from teaching at a top Naval facility, Layla Matthews tumbles head-over-heels for the sexiest man she’s encountered in a long time. The fact that he can hold an intelligent conversation is an added bonus. Her world is turned upside down when she later discovers he’s a Navy lieutenant. A senior officer. Her new boss. Definitely off-limits.

Continuing their relationship could ruin their military careers. Ending it would break both their hearts. Do they end their sizzling romance or keep it a secret… and pray no one finds out?

Get your copy here!

Look for Sha Renée on the following social media sites:
Website
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
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Amazon

It’s my book birthday, and I’ll party if I want to! Lightwave: Shooting Star, Folding Space Series 3.0 comes out today! To celebrate, it’s $1.99 for the next week, then the price increases to $3.99, so get your copy today!

Thanks for celebrating with me!

Lightwave: Shooting Star

Is the aging boy-band singer a shooting star doomed to burn in fast? Or is he shooting back?

When Lightwave agrees to transport an aging pop star, they anticipate temper tantrums, arrogance, and the occasional out-of-her-orbit teenage fangirl. And the fangirls hit like the mother of all meteor fields.

What they don’t expect is a space station full of Old Earth sci-fi fans, the Robber Barons of Aus having fangirl daughters, or an old enemy rising from the dust clouds of Lacerta.

Can Lightwave and Saree survive the pop star and his fans? And what about that old enemy? Find out in Lightwave: Shooting Star coming November 1st, 2018!

Get your copy here!

Also available at other fine retailers: https://books2read.com/LightwaveShootingStar

Lightwave: Clocker

This new space opera races across the universe, one step ahead of danger. If you like Firefly, try Lightwave!Lightwave: Clocker, Folding Space Series 1.0, is available everywhere for $0.99!

When a bounty hunter closes in, Saree jumps on Lightwave Fold Transport, the only way out-system. But Lightwave’s crew might be a bigger threat. Can Saree hide her real identity as the only human Clocker? Or will the crew uncover her secret and turn her in for the reward?

Lightwave seems safe, at first. But Saree quickly regrets her snap decision. The Captain hates her, the steward wants a fling and security suspects she wants to steal the ship. Even worse, the whole crew might be mercenaries, hired to hunt her.

Can Saree remain free to maintain the space fold clocks that allow safe travel between systems? Or will she be forced to serve a crime lord or unscrupulous corporation? Blockading and blackmailing systems is no way to live…

Get your copy at Amazon!
Other fine retailers: https://books2read.com/Lightwave-Clocker

Thanks, Delilah, for inviting me!

UPDATE: The winner is…Charlotte!
*~*~*

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

 

Is the pic festive enough? I love busy images, so this one’s fun for me! Halloween is our family’s favorite holiday. We go all out with costumes. And then we make a mad dash around the surrounding area, looking for fun, kid-friendly trick-or-treat parties. And then, there are the photos. We take them every year. These are a few of my favorites…

I think the 5-year-old was 2 when this was taken. She was already great with the camera. She still loves getting into character.

Here’s the pic of all the kids, taken in the front yard. We’d had hay delivered for the horses…

This was a couple of years ago. Note the werewolf in the wheelchair. We took the photo in front of the town’s cemetery gates…

There’s an “extra” kid in the mix in a ninja outfit. My dd tends to gather kids for these events. This year, we’re taking the van and an extra car to ferry everyone around. I’m not 100% sure I’m going. I had a late night. But I’ll try to get a nap, because I’d hate to miss the fun!

Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card,
tell me what your Halloween plans are!

Oops! Adding one more fave! The 14-year-old way back when. She went as an Aztec princess…

A Reminder about CONTESTS!

These contests are still open!

1. Contest Roundup! Reminder to Authors! And a Very SEXY Excerpt!
2. Diana Cosby: International Food Bank Food Drive Challenge (Contest)

African-American History Exhumed

If asked to place African-American slavery and freedom geographically, most people automatically cite the South with the former and the North with the latter. But did you know slavery existed in the North as late as 1860? I’ve spent many enjoyable hours unearthing the hidden and not so hidden history of African slavery in the North. One of my best resources is The African Burial Ground National Monument (ABGNM) at 290 Broadway in lower Manhattan, which not only instructs but inspires.

ABGNM’s exhibits show the lives of northern slaves had much more in common with their southern counterparts than that of Boston slave poet Phillis Wheatley. The 24-foot high Ancestral Chamber—designed to resemble a ship’s hold—provides a place for remembrance and prayer. The walls of the Ancestral Libation Chamber’s Circle of the Diaspora surround you with symbols from Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean as you spiral down a processional ramp that brings you “physically, psychologically and spiritually close to the ancestors and the original interment level.”

Rarely do we realize how we are witnesses to history in the making. I received a blast from my native New Yorker past as I read ABGNM’s timeline and the five scrapbooks that chronicle the community activism I witnessed on the news and read in the local papers that ultimately led to the creation of this national monument.

In 1989 before excavating to build a new federal building, records showed the proposed site was once an African burial ground. It is estimated that 15,000 free Africans and African slaves were buried in the “Negros Buriel Ground” from the 1690’s until 1794. Government researchers concluded that “after 200 years there are no remains, but recommended archeological testing.” Test excavations proved the assumption wrong. Untouched human remains protected by 25 feet of soil were discovered.

A whistle blower call to the office of then State Senator David Patterson revealed that the government was going to do a “backhoe” excavation, i.e., use a backhoe on the grounds decimating whatever was there. The caller asked could their office do anything to stop it. Community indignation and activism combined with political will resulted in the halting of excavation on the site. Meetings were held, enabling the community to give input on how to go forward. The result was the creation of the African Burial Ground National Monument in 1993. A multidisciplinary research team, African Burial Ground Project, recorded and measured the remains of 419 men, women and children. The project concluded in 1999 and the remains were re-interred on the site in handmade coffins from Ghana.

The African Burial Ground National Monument is an amazing amalgamation of videos, interactive exhibits and displays that show the effectiveness of community activism, strengthen my sense of African American pride and stimulate my historical romance writing imagination.

How about you? Where and when has a museum visit, a book or a conversation sent you on a journey of discovery?

Follow this link for more information on the landmark itself: https://www.nps.gov/afbg/planyourvisit/basicinfo.htm.

*~*~*

Better To Marry Than To Burn

Freed Man seeking woman to partner in marriage for at least two years in the black township of Douglass, Texas. Must be willing and able to help establish a legacy. Marital relations as necessary. Love neither required nor sought.

Caesar King’s ad for a mail-order bride is an answer to Queen Esther Payne’s prayer. Her family expects her to adhere to society’s traditional conventions of submissive wife and mother, but Queen refuses. She is not the weaker sex and will not allow herself to be used, abused or turned into a baby-making machine under the sanctity of matrimony. Grateful that love is neither required nor sought, she accepts the ex-slave’s offer and heads West for marriage on her terms. Her education and breeding will see to that. However, once she meets Caesar, his unexpected allure and intriguing wit make it hard to keep love at bay. How can she hope to remain her own woman when victory may be synonymous with surrender?

Get your copy here!

Excerpt

She locked her legs and glared with her hands on her hips. Defiance flashed in her eyes like a bronc not yet broken. “I haven’t agreed to your terms.”

“Yet.”

“I’ll be honest with you then. You’ll have to force me.”

He crossed his arms. “That’s not the way I want it.”

She crossed hers. “That’s the only way you’ll get it.” The impudence of a Black who had never known the overseer’s whip ripped through her tone.

He blinked into her glare. Would she really make him force her? He wanted her willing submission, but what if he couldn’t obtain it? The anticipation of the struggle, of her eventual surrender flipped his stomach.

And not in a bad way.

“I will, if you make me.” He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her tight against his chest. “Remember, I’m no gentleman.”

The soft but firm press of her breasts more than pleased. He flicked his tongue behind her ear, tasted lemon soap, perspiration and enticement.

She broke away, chest heaving. “You have to be one hell of a negotiator, Mr. King to get me to yield on that point.” She’d spoken rapidly, breathily. He heard capitulation in her panting, despite the insolence in her glare.

“I’m known in these parts as a mighty fair horse trader, Mrs—”

He froze, stunned by the sight of Queen squatting. She reached between her spread thighs and withdrew a dark rubber phallus. He gawped, amazed how the strange contraption mirrored his aching member in size and shape.

“Wha—what in the name of heaven are you doing with that?”

“Preparing me for our first time.”

He groaned, captured by thoughts of the dildo priming her for his use.

“You are full of surprises, Mrs. King.”

She walked to the washstand, doused the phallus with water and laved it with his own sage-scented soap. A vision of her doing the same to his cock knocked him back a step. Yes, dinner could definitely wait.

Suddenly, he stiffened. The meaning of her earlier words penetrated.

There are many ways to prevent your seed from taking root, Mr. King.

“Wait a minute.” He pointed a shaky finger at the dildo. “That wasn’t in your sex when I fingered you in the wagon. I’d have felt it.”

*~*~*

Buy links: https://amzn.to/2JyLKu1, https://bit.ly/2DHdb0x
Website: www.michalscott.webs.com
Twitter: @mscottauthor1