A Little Taste of Home (MF)

Quad Series 1

Twisted E-Publishing

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 105,330
0 Ratings (0.0)

A woman with a checkered past finds love in the least expected of places…

Sanura “Mac” McKie is a restaurateur who’s trying to put her past behind her. Running her business is her focus and has made her into a woman who’s unused to explaining her actions to others. Taking a delivery one morning changes everything.

Gavin Rawlins is an architect looking to start his own company and get away from his current boss. Wealthy and used to getting what he wants, he’s immediately enamored with the woman who stops by to deliver their lunch during a meeting. She’s completely different from the women he usually meets—those who want access to his money. It isn’t an issue for her, at least not in the way he’s used to.

His pursuit of her is hampered by an interfering mother, a few misunderstandings, and a past that keeps popping up to haunt her. When the smoke clears, will Gavin be able to keep the woman who’s become more to him than just his vision for the future? Can he get Mac to trust in his love and prove he’s out for more than a little taste of home?

A Little Taste of Home (MF)
0 Ratings (0.0)

A Little Taste of Home (MF)

Quad Series 1

Twisted E-Publishing

Heat Rating: Sizzling
Word Count: 105,330
0 Ratings (0.0)
In Cart
In Wish List
Available formats
Cover Art by MMJ Designs


Late 1980’s

Guilty. Well this is it. Is there some divine plan for me here, Lord? ’Cause I am feeling a bit left out of it. The young woman remained stoic as she digested the verdict. Her life was officially over. She was officially a felon.

“Very well. Sentencing will begin nine o’clock on Monday.” The judge’s gavel hit and it was final.

Her lawyer turned to her and shrugged. “Sorry about that.”

Sorry? That was all he could say? Sorry? Pitiful excuse for a lawyer. Charging all that money for such a weak defense. He didn’t even seem to care. Rising with a calm she far from felt, Sanura McKie nodded once to her lawyer and followed him out of the courtroom.

“We need to meet and discuss what you want to do next,” the attorney said.

His beady little eyes basically had dollar signs flashing in them as they racked up her expenses for whatever came next. Sanura followed him into a small room and shut the door behind her. After he sat she did too. She waited for him to say something.


She was on autopilot as she could hardly believe the verdict.

“We need to decide if you want to file an appeal or not.”

Sanura swung her eyes towards the pale man sitting across from her. He was more overweight than stocky and didn’t have much of a neck. She sat in silence as she watched a bead of sweat run down his face and disappear into the expensive fabric of his suit. At that single moment she despised every single white person in the world.

Every solitary one.

And that hate included even her birth mother, whom she hadn’t seen since she was six years old. For that one flash of a moment Sanura even hated the part of herself that was white. Not like she was considered white, for she had way more than a drop of black blood in her, and for society all it took was a single drop. One single drop of blood from a black person in your lineage and you were branded as being black.

Don’t get me wrong, Lord, I don’t have a problem with who I am. Even though life doesn’t always treat me fair, I have learned to roll with the punches and appreciate the woman I was allowed to become. But some days I would like to know what it is like to not be judged by the color of one’s skin. Particularly mine.

She should have trusted her gut. Should have gone with a different lawyer. Should have taken the stand. Should have never worked for that damn job.

How in the hell could a bunch of reasonable people find her guilty? The videotape they claimed to have used to see her doing this so-called offense had gone missing. That was, of course, after it had gotten distorted and finally had been declared “all shadow,” so nothing could be made out of it. Her old boss had changed her story so much it gave Sanura whiplash trying to keep up.

Then there were the documents. They were all forged with her signature and her boss even admitted doing it. This in itself was a felony, not that they seemed to care. Not that it mattered. No matter what the year, as long as a black defendant sat before a lily-white jury the verdict would be the same. Guilty.

Her eyes watched the man she had grown to despise for his lack of motivation to clear her name. “I am done. No appeals, no nothing. Get it over with.”

The light dimmed in his eyes as the lawyer realized his money was coming to an end with her. His voice was almost scornful when he said, “Very well. Sign this. Hopefully the judge won’t be too hard on you. You haven’t been in trouble before, have you?”

That scum. He knew the answer. Nonetheless, her tone stayed modulated as she answered, “No. I have no record.” Until now. Now she was a bloody flippin’ felon.

“Well, I will need to work on an argument for the judge. Don’t leave town and be here about thirty minutes early on Monday morning.”

What did he take her for? An idiot? Of course she wouldn’t leave town. “Fine. I will see you Monday.” Sanura rose and walked out the door, with her head high even though on the inside she was screaming with pain and fury.

Read more