Title: SMOKIN’: Carolina in the Storming
Authors: Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh
ISBN: 978-1-4357-0960-7
Available formats: Print and Adobe e-file Print copy:
Print: 547 pages, 6" x 9", perfect binding, black and white interior ink
Download: 1 documents 1 document, 1899 KB
Copyright: © November 2007 Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh
Language: English
Country: United States
Edition: First Edition
Genre: I/R…It’s a HOLISTIC story – meant to affect the mind, body, heart and soul. That is, it makes you think, laugh out loud, cry, rage, throw your fist in the air, sigh, and the love scenes will make you close your eyes, cross your legs, throw back your head and say 'mercy'.
Available at: http://www.lulu.com/content/1961443
**AUTHOR BIOS**
Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh
Besides being intelligent divas who pen kickass prose, Jeanie and her momma are dessert-eating, take-no-shit, tell-it-like-they-feel instead of tell-it-like-people-want-to-hear-it women. They are women who have brains and aren't afraid to use them; feelings and aren't afraid to express them; and, middle fingers which they'll happily use to salute out of line peeps. Independently, both are forces of nature that leave you begging for mercy or begging for more…depending on your level of tolerance. Even better,
when they’re in cahoots, they transform into the best tag team duo, bound together by the pen.
Besides being the author of the Otherworldly series, Jeanie is a shagalicious word slinger, who will be world ruling side-by-side with her momma. As long as her Polar Bear (shhh it's a secret) does not drink all of her Cokes, all will be well. After gifting her clan with a knee buckling narrative or two, Jeanie intends to relax by throwing on her favorite hoodie and jumping in her chromed-out truck in search of the alpha that is the basis of the heroes in all of her stories.
Her momma, Jayha, author of the Wild, Wild series, is a lot closer to the convent than Jeanie, which is ironic considering that she's been accused of being the catalyst for the fall of the Roman Empire and a cult leader with low aspirations. When not indulging her torrid affair with ESPN, she finds time to grace Mr. Me with her presence. Jayha constantly hones her skills, so that when she ascends to her position as world leader, stupid people will be punished and desserts will be easily acquired on every corner. Until that fan-freaking-tastic day arrives, she’ll continue to walk among the people rocking her standard outfit of Crocs and a blue t-shirt, composing rapturous reads…all while straightening her crooked halo.
**SYNOPSIS**
Carolina Gilchrist-Williams is a feisty, educated, sexy full-figured black woman whose sole purpose is to get to her baby (Mariana Madeira from Hot Like Fire: The Taming and Deliberation of Mariana) in Colorado who has just discovered that she’s pregnant.
However, when Carolina arrives, she is greeted by the one man…the one who has taken it upon himself to invade her damned fantasies for the past month and a half. The fine MF had been doing that since she’d gotten her first glimpse of him at Mariana and Samson American wedding ceremony. She had no idea who he was except that he was freaking hot, arrogant, damn hot, big, smoking hot, and to the absolute horror of her inner dashiki-clad activist whose enemy was ‘the man’ and whose goal was challenging harmful social structures...he is white!
Mackenzie Roberts was literally floored by the stark violence that had been directed his way by the luscious, fully-figured African-American woman at his good friend Samson Madeira’s wedding. But damn it all to hell the woman’s less-than-welcoming demeanor hadn’t done a f**king thing to cool his ardor. If anything it had inflamed it!
Events at the wedding had prevented the two volatile personalities from getting together and…
…cuss that fine MF out (her)
…drag that tempting woman in my arms and drink from those luscious lips (him) but now their worlds are about to collide and the North American content is going to hear all about it!
Carolina and Mackenzie epitomise the age old saying of: Where there’s SMOKE multiple orgasms are bound to follow.
Welcome to Book 2 of the Hot Like Fire Series by Jeanie Johnson & Jayha Leigh! Hold on, it’s gonna be a hella ride...and you’ll like it…and beg for more! J
**BLURB**
Prelude I: Whoever she is she’d Look even Better under Me
Mackenzie Roberts smiled politely at the bevy of southern women who were patrolling the dining area like generals. He knew they were southern from their accents and also from the way that they piled food onto plates. They had a gleam in their eyes that said no one was leaving here without being close to cardiac arrest or a sharp increase in their cholesterol level at the very least. Though he’d been to many receptions and been fed pretty good he knew he’d have to loosen his belt before sitting down to eat. His stint in Atlanta had taught him that nobody took eating as seriously as southerners. Looking around, he saw that the tables were plied high with delicacies. There were some he couldn’t wait to sample -- such as that barbeque -- and some he was sure that he didn’t want anywhere near his stomach -- such as that salad. He was pretty sure it was salad as there was lettuce and other vegetables in the dish, but he wouldn’t bet on it because it was struggling under a bed of fried chicken pieces, bacon (real bacon in strips, not the bits), turkey and ham. Yep, some people were going to be rushed to the ER tonight, but they’d enjoy the events that led up to it. Southerners didn’t have blood pumping through their veins; they had gravy or grease. It was a wonder that they hadn’t died out but then they did tend to drink a lot of grain alcohol (the homemade kind) and that cleaned out their arteries. Of course, that shit could clean rust off of the Titanic, but hey who was he to criticize considering the fact that he damned sure enjoyed southern cuisine. In fact, that was the one thing that he missed about Atlanta: the food. And if he’d have really felt like being honest with himself he would’ve remedied that statement and admitted that he also missed the women. Southern women had a way about them. Once they got in your blood; they stayed there.
But before he could get to the food, he had to haul his ass to the front with the other groomsmen and see his close friend Samson Madeira marry the woman of his dreams…for the second time. Though this was the second ceremony, Samson was still antsy waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. Having just flown in from Utah that morning, where he was overseeing a project, he hadn’t had the pleasure of really getting to know her (of course she’d been kept prisoner in Samson’s opulent master suite). He knew that she had to be a stellar woman though and not simply because damn near everyone sang her praises but because she’d managed to do what no other human had ever attempted let alone had a hope in hell of achieving. She‘d conquered Samson. Though he wasn’t much on marriage, Mackenzie couldn’t help but be happy for him knowing how much Samson valued family. Mariana was a beautiful woman with a smile that could bring a man to his knees and an inner strength and integrity that was equal to Samson’s. It was clear that they were destined to be together and as far as Mackenzie was concerned, it couldn’t have happened to two more deserving individuals.
Mackenzie took a moment to appreciate the surroundings. Samson’s spread was a little over two hundred acres in some of the most beautiful land in all of Creation. In his opinion, Teddy Roosevelt, the twenty-sixth president of the United States had been dead on right when he’d remarked that there weren’t enough words in the English language to adequately describe Colorado. Samson’s property was spectacular. Not a particularly religious man, whenever he was in Colorado, especially in this region, he felt close to God. God was evident everywhere: in the ruggedness of mountain areas such as Indian Peaks Wilderness, Routt National Forest, Zirkel Wilderness, and Mount Evans; in the waters of Gilpen Lake, Green River, Hans Peak Lake and the Colorado River; in the endless greens of Buffalo Pass, Yampa Valley, and Ouzel Creek.
The city of de Vires was a picturesque city that was beauty personified. Tucked between mountain ridges, Samson’s spread straddled the border of the Northwest Territory and The Front Range…and it backed up against his. A little higher up in elevation, his spread was actually located in the even smaller city (and calling it a city was stretching the truth a bit) of Villedemann Ridge. Just under fifty acres, his spread wasn’t as big as Samson’s spread, but it boasted more diverse topography. Other than his home -- which was way bigger than a single man needed -- he’d allowed Nature to have its way with the rest of his property. He loved this part of Colorado. The area was so beautiful that he often felt like he was sitting between Jesus and God. You just didn’t get any more perfect than that.
Mackenzie hadn’t been able to attend the first ceremony, but everyone had remarked on the beauty of New Zealand. He didn’t doubt that the South Pacific was beautiful, but it wasn’t Colorado. Inhaling, he slowly let out a deep breath and looked at the place that Samson had selected to exchange vows with his bride. There were no flowers, but there didn’t need to be. Not in that spot, where it seemed that God was showing off His skill. The only concession was the tasteful lighting, which was needed since the ceremony was taking place in the evening to honor the Navajo wedding custom.
Even though there was three officiates -- a Navajo elder, a Baptist preacher, and a Catholic priest (which sounded like the beginnings of a bad joke)-- the ceremony lasted only a few minutes. When Mariana waltzed down that aisle, he swore that he’d never seen a more beautiful bride. And from Samson’s reaction, neither had he, even though he’d had the pleasure of seeing her as a bride just a few weeks prior. Wearing a deep red gown that highlighted her womanly curves, Mariana was the epitome of woman. Walking between her father and brother, she didn’t merely walk down the aisle; she waltzed. And when the men of her family placed her into Samson’s care, Mackenzie witnessed Samson tremble. In that moment he knew, that the long wait Samson had endured had been worth it. Now that the ceremony was complete, and the pictures were taken, Mackenzie simply waited for a chance to congratulate the couple so that he could get to the grub.
Consumed by thoughts of a proper southern banquet, Mackenzie let his mind wander. It wasn’t until he felt eyes on him that he focused and looked around. He immediately became aware of the woman glaring a hole into him as if she was metaphorically lining him up so she could take him out. He so didn’t like the look that she was giving him and as such surreptitiously looked for evidence of a sniper rifle on her person.
Mackenzie was pretty sure that she didn’t have a sniper rifle, but his gut told him that she did have a weapon on her person…and more importantly, knew how to use it. Since she wasn’t making any sudden moves toward him, he took a moment to really look at the woman who looked like she was about to set the dogs and security on him. She wasn’t your average woman. The truth was that nothing about the woman said average. That woman had eyes that alternately flashed caveats and wisdom and an aura surrounding her that said: ‘try me.’ And though he may well be taking his life into his own hands, Mackenzie knew that regardless of the consequences he definitely wanted to try her -- over and over and over. A full-figured woman, she was blessed with a rather impressive bust line and ass that not even that expertly-tailored blazer could conceal. Her mocha-colored skin was flawless. Her full lips were devoid of any artificial color, but the gloss she wore was simply an invitation to kiss it off…to see if it had a flavor. She had a head full of well-maintained locs that were pulled back before flaring out into a riot of curls. Like Mariana, she carried herself with a regal awareness that many women of color possessed.
Mackenzie should’ve been concerned with the caveats that burned in her eyes, and he would be…later, after he’d looked his fill. He began another slow perusal of her lush figure starting at her feet, which were encased in some deadly looking shoes that he’d like to see while she was flat on her back and her legs were resting on his shoulders. And those hips -- damn. There was a song about hips like those -- something about baby-making hips. When he finally made it to her eyes, he noted the unwavering gaze and knew that it wouldn’t be long before she marched over to him -- most likely to give him a piece of her mind. And if his hunch was correct, even after she’d given him a piece of it, she’d still be smarter than most of the people he knew. She was about to make her way towards him when she was side-tracked by Mariana. And when she looked upon Mariana he saw what the woman kept so well hidden: love and softness.
The look that she directed at the bride -- who had thrown her arms around her and hugged her tightly -- robbed him of breath. Mackenzie watched as the woman lifted a hand and brushed an errant curl from the bride’s cheek before kissing her forehead. It was a gesture full of care, full of gentleness and underlined with love. If they didn’t seem so close in age, he would’ve pegged her as the bride’s mother, but he’d met the bride’s mother who’d wept through the entire ceremony. Knowing that she didn’t have a ring on her finger, Mackenzie felt no remorse about lusting after this woman, instinctively knowing that if this woman was some man’s wife, she’d have on a ring. Settling back against the huge evergreen, he took a drink of liquid sugar flavoured with tea, and continued to watch the woman interact with Mariana. He was intrigued with the way she smiled at the bride with the patience borne of loving someone so much that you wanted to hear everything that they had to say.
His reverie was broken by Samson who clapped a hand down on his shoulder. Turning his head, he greeted him. “Congratulations, Samson. You’re a lucky bastard.
“That I am, and so are you having me as a friend and all,” Samson joked.
“Ah, there’s that modesty you keep so well-concealed,” Mackenzie joked.
“Thank you for coming, Mackenzie,” Samson said sincerely before grabbing him in a bear hug that damn near busted his ribs.
“There’s no way that I would miss this. After all, you have a southern spread,” he laughed as he returned the hug.
“The benefits of marrying into a southern family,” he joked as he stood next to Mackenzie and looked out at the boisterous crowd.
Anyone looking at the two men standing side-by-side would be taken aback by the picture that they made. Both standing close to seven feet in height and carrying the bulk to match, they looked like light and shadow. Samson, with dark, good looks and an easygoing demeanor, and Mackenzie, with his slightly darker-than-white-skin and his do-not-fuck-with-me disposition were two peas in the proverbial pod. Regardless of how laidback they appeared in the moment, everyone present knew that to fuck with them or theirs would not end well...at all…but it would definitely end.
Prelude II: Put Your Damn Eyeballs Back in Your Fucking Head
Carolina was so glad that her baby had Samson. Samson was quite a man. Sure he was intelligent, wealthy, and smoking hot, but even better than that, he was loving, gentle, and attentive to Mariana. He treated Mariana as if she was the center of his whole world. She couldn’t have created a better man for Mariana even if she had a state-of-the-art secret lab.
They’d had a beautiful wedding in Auckland. And even though it was in April, because the seasons were reversed, it was still warm enough to have a beach wedding. And though it was damn near June here in the city of de Vires, Colorado, it was colder than a motherfucker to a southerner such as herself. While all of the native Coloradans had on short-sleeves or shorts, damn near all of the southerners had on blazers or sports coats. There was an upside to having to wear a blazer -- it allowed her to conceal her weapons. Yeah, yeah. She knew that there were laws and all that, but she wasn’t taking any chances out here in the fucking woods with a bunch of strangers surrounding her baby. If something broke off and her baby was hurt in any way whatsoever, there’d be a misunderstanding of colossal proportions -- one people would still be talking about a millennia from now when archaeologists excavated the place and came across a shit load of bodies.
Carolina had watched the ceremony with interest, never having attended a ceremony that had so many officiates. There was a Navajo Elder, a Baptist Preacher, and a Catholic Priest. Somewhere, she was sure that there was a good joke in that that would be the catalyst in her downward spiritual spiral, but still it was funny. Though she’d paid attention to the goings on at the Altar, she’d kept one eye on the crowd. She had momma eyes that allowed her to see everything going on and put an end to any nonsense with the quickness without even having to turn her head in the direction of aforementioned nonsense.
She’d been minding her own damn business minding everyone else’s when she’d spotted the white boy. Well, he wasn’t a boy, but he was definitely white. He would’ve been that kind of fine that made women lose their damn minds, with that honey-colored hair and fuck me body, but he had that crazy, about-to-make- the-evening-news look about him. And he kept looking in the direction of her baby…and that was unacceptable. She was on her way over to give him a piece of her mind and a swift kick in that delicious-looking ass when she was waylaid by her beautiful baby. Dammit. She’d have to put the fear of God in that man another time. Right now, her baby was hugging her, and she had to concentrate on maneuvering her baby around so that her body shielded Mariana. Oh damn, she loved that little girl something fierce, with those big eyes and that cute little pout she got when she was in danger of not getting her way. Luckily, she was hardcore and had ice water running through her veins (well either that or barbeque sauce) so Mariana couldn’t use those eyes and that pout against her at all. Okay, well maybe once or twice…a day. Dammit, she was a grown damn woman and Mariana was her baby so she didn’t have to say no to her if she didn’t want to so everyone could just shut the hell up. She was in the mind to kick someone’s ass. Where did Mr. Fine disappear to?
©2007 by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh All Rights Reserved
Authors: Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh
ISBN: 978-1-4357-0960-7
Available formats: Print and Adobe e-file Print copy:
Print: 547 pages, 6" x 9", perfect binding, black and white interior ink
Download: 1 documents 1 document, 1899 KB
Copyright: © November 2007 Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh
Language: English
Country: United States
Edition: First Edition
Genre: I/R…It’s a HOLISTIC story – meant to affect the mind, body, heart and soul. That is, it makes you think, laugh out loud, cry, rage, throw your fist in the air, sigh, and the love scenes will make you close your eyes, cross your legs, throw back your head and say 'mercy'.
Available at: http://www.lulu.com/content/1961443
**AUTHOR BIOS**
Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh
Besides being intelligent divas who pen kickass prose, Jeanie and her momma are dessert-eating, take-no-shit, tell-it-like-they-feel instead of tell-it-like-people-want-to-hear-it women. They are women who have brains and aren't afraid to use them; feelings and aren't afraid to express them; and, middle fingers which they'll happily use to salute out of line peeps. Independently, both are forces of nature that leave you begging for mercy or begging for more…depending on your level of tolerance. Even better,
when they’re in cahoots, they transform into the best tag team duo, bound together by the pen.
Besides being the author of the Otherworldly series, Jeanie is a shagalicious word slinger, who will be world ruling side-by-side with her momma. As long as her Polar Bear (shhh it's a secret) does not drink all of her Cokes, all will be well. After gifting her clan with a knee buckling narrative or two, Jeanie intends to relax by throwing on her favorite hoodie and jumping in her chromed-out truck in search of the alpha that is the basis of the heroes in all of her stories.
Her momma, Jayha, author of the Wild, Wild series, is a lot closer to the convent than Jeanie, which is ironic considering that she's been accused of being the catalyst for the fall of the Roman Empire and a cult leader with low aspirations. When not indulging her torrid affair with ESPN, she finds time to grace Mr. Me with her presence. Jayha constantly hones her skills, so that when she ascends to her position as world leader, stupid people will be punished and desserts will be easily acquired on every corner. Until that fan-freaking-tastic day arrives, she’ll continue to walk among the people rocking her standard outfit of Crocs and a blue t-shirt, composing rapturous reads…all while straightening her crooked halo.
**SYNOPSIS**
Carolina Gilchrist-Williams is a feisty, educated, sexy full-figured black woman whose sole purpose is to get to her baby (Mariana Madeira from Hot Like Fire: The Taming and Deliberation of Mariana) in Colorado who has just discovered that she’s pregnant.
However, when Carolina arrives, she is greeted by the one man…the one who has taken it upon himself to invade her damned fantasies for the past month and a half. The fine MF had been doing that since she’d gotten her first glimpse of him at Mariana and Samson American wedding ceremony. She had no idea who he was except that he was freaking hot, arrogant, damn hot, big, smoking hot, and to the absolute horror of her inner dashiki-clad activist whose enemy was ‘the man’ and whose goal was challenging harmful social structures...he is white!
Mackenzie Roberts was literally floored by the stark violence that had been directed his way by the luscious, fully-figured African-American woman at his good friend Samson Madeira’s wedding. But damn it all to hell the woman’s less-than-welcoming demeanor hadn’t done a f**king thing to cool his ardor. If anything it had inflamed it!
Events at the wedding had prevented the two volatile personalities from getting together and…
…cuss that fine MF out (her)
…drag that tempting woman in my arms and drink from those luscious lips (him) but now their worlds are about to collide and the North American content is going to hear all about it!
Carolina and Mackenzie epitomise the age old saying of: Where there’s SMOKE multiple orgasms are bound to follow.
Welcome to Book 2 of the Hot Like Fire Series by Jeanie Johnson & Jayha Leigh! Hold on, it’s gonna be a hella ride...and you’ll like it…and beg for more! J
**BLURB**
Prelude I: Whoever she is she’d Look even Better under Me
Mackenzie Roberts smiled politely at the bevy of southern women who were patrolling the dining area like generals. He knew they were southern from their accents and also from the way that they piled food onto plates. They had a gleam in their eyes that said no one was leaving here without being close to cardiac arrest or a sharp increase in their cholesterol level at the very least. Though he’d been to many receptions and been fed pretty good he knew he’d have to loosen his belt before sitting down to eat. His stint in Atlanta had taught him that nobody took eating as seriously as southerners. Looking around, he saw that the tables were plied high with delicacies. There were some he couldn’t wait to sample -- such as that barbeque -- and some he was sure that he didn’t want anywhere near his stomach -- such as that salad. He was pretty sure it was salad as there was lettuce and other vegetables in the dish, but he wouldn’t bet on it because it was struggling under a bed of fried chicken pieces, bacon (real bacon in strips, not the bits), turkey and ham. Yep, some people were going to be rushed to the ER tonight, but they’d enjoy the events that led up to it. Southerners didn’t have blood pumping through their veins; they had gravy or grease. It was a wonder that they hadn’t died out but then they did tend to drink a lot of grain alcohol (the homemade kind) and that cleaned out their arteries. Of course, that shit could clean rust off of the Titanic, but hey who was he to criticize considering the fact that he damned sure enjoyed southern cuisine. In fact, that was the one thing that he missed about Atlanta: the food. And if he’d have really felt like being honest with himself he would’ve remedied that statement and admitted that he also missed the women. Southern women had a way about them. Once they got in your blood; they stayed there.
But before he could get to the food, he had to haul his ass to the front with the other groomsmen and see his close friend Samson Madeira marry the woman of his dreams…for the second time. Though this was the second ceremony, Samson was still antsy waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle. Having just flown in from Utah that morning, where he was overseeing a project, he hadn’t had the pleasure of really getting to know her (of course she’d been kept prisoner in Samson’s opulent master suite). He knew that she had to be a stellar woman though and not simply because damn near everyone sang her praises but because she’d managed to do what no other human had ever attempted let alone had a hope in hell of achieving. She‘d conquered Samson. Though he wasn’t much on marriage, Mackenzie couldn’t help but be happy for him knowing how much Samson valued family. Mariana was a beautiful woman with a smile that could bring a man to his knees and an inner strength and integrity that was equal to Samson’s. It was clear that they were destined to be together and as far as Mackenzie was concerned, it couldn’t have happened to two more deserving individuals.
Mackenzie took a moment to appreciate the surroundings. Samson’s spread was a little over two hundred acres in some of the most beautiful land in all of Creation. In his opinion, Teddy Roosevelt, the twenty-sixth president of the United States had been dead on right when he’d remarked that there weren’t enough words in the English language to adequately describe Colorado. Samson’s property was spectacular. Not a particularly religious man, whenever he was in Colorado, especially in this region, he felt close to God. God was evident everywhere: in the ruggedness of mountain areas such as Indian Peaks Wilderness, Routt National Forest, Zirkel Wilderness, and Mount Evans; in the waters of Gilpen Lake, Green River, Hans Peak Lake and the Colorado River; in the endless greens of Buffalo Pass, Yampa Valley, and Ouzel Creek.
The city of de Vires was a picturesque city that was beauty personified. Tucked between mountain ridges, Samson’s spread straddled the border of the Northwest Territory and The Front Range…and it backed up against his. A little higher up in elevation, his spread was actually located in the even smaller city (and calling it a city was stretching the truth a bit) of Villedemann Ridge. Just under fifty acres, his spread wasn’t as big as Samson’s spread, but it boasted more diverse topography. Other than his home -- which was way bigger than a single man needed -- he’d allowed Nature to have its way with the rest of his property. He loved this part of Colorado. The area was so beautiful that he often felt like he was sitting between Jesus and God. You just didn’t get any more perfect than that.
Mackenzie hadn’t been able to attend the first ceremony, but everyone had remarked on the beauty of New Zealand. He didn’t doubt that the South Pacific was beautiful, but it wasn’t Colorado. Inhaling, he slowly let out a deep breath and looked at the place that Samson had selected to exchange vows with his bride. There were no flowers, but there didn’t need to be. Not in that spot, where it seemed that God was showing off His skill. The only concession was the tasteful lighting, which was needed since the ceremony was taking place in the evening to honor the Navajo wedding custom.
Even though there was three officiates -- a Navajo elder, a Baptist preacher, and a Catholic priest (which sounded like the beginnings of a bad joke)-- the ceremony lasted only a few minutes. When Mariana waltzed down that aisle, he swore that he’d never seen a more beautiful bride. And from Samson’s reaction, neither had he, even though he’d had the pleasure of seeing her as a bride just a few weeks prior. Wearing a deep red gown that highlighted her womanly curves, Mariana was the epitome of woman. Walking between her father and brother, she didn’t merely walk down the aisle; she waltzed. And when the men of her family placed her into Samson’s care, Mackenzie witnessed Samson tremble. In that moment he knew, that the long wait Samson had endured had been worth it. Now that the ceremony was complete, and the pictures were taken, Mackenzie simply waited for a chance to congratulate the couple so that he could get to the grub.
Consumed by thoughts of a proper southern banquet, Mackenzie let his mind wander. It wasn’t until he felt eyes on him that he focused and looked around. He immediately became aware of the woman glaring a hole into him as if she was metaphorically lining him up so she could take him out. He so didn’t like the look that she was giving him and as such surreptitiously looked for evidence of a sniper rifle on her person.
Mackenzie was pretty sure that she didn’t have a sniper rifle, but his gut told him that she did have a weapon on her person…and more importantly, knew how to use it. Since she wasn’t making any sudden moves toward him, he took a moment to really look at the woman who looked like she was about to set the dogs and security on him. She wasn’t your average woman. The truth was that nothing about the woman said average. That woman had eyes that alternately flashed caveats and wisdom and an aura surrounding her that said: ‘try me.’ And though he may well be taking his life into his own hands, Mackenzie knew that regardless of the consequences he definitely wanted to try her -- over and over and over. A full-figured woman, she was blessed with a rather impressive bust line and ass that not even that expertly-tailored blazer could conceal. Her mocha-colored skin was flawless. Her full lips were devoid of any artificial color, but the gloss she wore was simply an invitation to kiss it off…to see if it had a flavor. She had a head full of well-maintained locs that were pulled back before flaring out into a riot of curls. Like Mariana, she carried herself with a regal awareness that many women of color possessed.
Mackenzie should’ve been concerned with the caveats that burned in her eyes, and he would be…later, after he’d looked his fill. He began another slow perusal of her lush figure starting at her feet, which were encased in some deadly looking shoes that he’d like to see while she was flat on her back and her legs were resting on his shoulders. And those hips -- damn. There was a song about hips like those -- something about baby-making hips. When he finally made it to her eyes, he noted the unwavering gaze and knew that it wouldn’t be long before she marched over to him -- most likely to give him a piece of her mind. And if his hunch was correct, even after she’d given him a piece of it, she’d still be smarter than most of the people he knew. She was about to make her way towards him when she was side-tracked by Mariana. And when she looked upon Mariana he saw what the woman kept so well hidden: love and softness.
The look that she directed at the bride -- who had thrown her arms around her and hugged her tightly -- robbed him of breath. Mackenzie watched as the woman lifted a hand and brushed an errant curl from the bride’s cheek before kissing her forehead. It was a gesture full of care, full of gentleness and underlined with love. If they didn’t seem so close in age, he would’ve pegged her as the bride’s mother, but he’d met the bride’s mother who’d wept through the entire ceremony. Knowing that she didn’t have a ring on her finger, Mackenzie felt no remorse about lusting after this woman, instinctively knowing that if this woman was some man’s wife, she’d have on a ring. Settling back against the huge evergreen, he took a drink of liquid sugar flavoured with tea, and continued to watch the woman interact with Mariana. He was intrigued with the way she smiled at the bride with the patience borne of loving someone so much that you wanted to hear everything that they had to say.
His reverie was broken by Samson who clapped a hand down on his shoulder. Turning his head, he greeted him. “Congratulations, Samson. You’re a lucky bastard.
“That I am, and so are you having me as a friend and all,” Samson joked.
“Ah, there’s that modesty you keep so well-concealed,” Mackenzie joked.
“Thank you for coming, Mackenzie,” Samson said sincerely before grabbing him in a bear hug that damn near busted his ribs.
“There’s no way that I would miss this. After all, you have a southern spread,” he laughed as he returned the hug.
“The benefits of marrying into a southern family,” he joked as he stood next to Mackenzie and looked out at the boisterous crowd.
Anyone looking at the two men standing side-by-side would be taken aback by the picture that they made. Both standing close to seven feet in height and carrying the bulk to match, they looked like light and shadow. Samson, with dark, good looks and an easygoing demeanor, and Mackenzie, with his slightly darker-than-white-skin and his do-not-fuck-with-me disposition were two peas in the proverbial pod. Regardless of how laidback they appeared in the moment, everyone present knew that to fuck with them or theirs would not end well...at all…but it would definitely end.
Prelude II: Put Your Damn Eyeballs Back in Your Fucking Head
Carolina was so glad that her baby had Samson. Samson was quite a man. Sure he was intelligent, wealthy, and smoking hot, but even better than that, he was loving, gentle, and attentive to Mariana. He treated Mariana as if she was the center of his whole world. She couldn’t have created a better man for Mariana even if she had a state-of-the-art secret lab.
They’d had a beautiful wedding in Auckland. And even though it was in April, because the seasons were reversed, it was still warm enough to have a beach wedding. And though it was damn near June here in the city of de Vires, Colorado, it was colder than a motherfucker to a southerner such as herself. While all of the native Coloradans had on short-sleeves or shorts, damn near all of the southerners had on blazers or sports coats. There was an upside to having to wear a blazer -- it allowed her to conceal her weapons. Yeah, yeah. She knew that there were laws and all that, but she wasn’t taking any chances out here in the fucking woods with a bunch of strangers surrounding her baby. If something broke off and her baby was hurt in any way whatsoever, there’d be a misunderstanding of colossal proportions -- one people would still be talking about a millennia from now when archaeologists excavated the place and came across a shit load of bodies.
Carolina had watched the ceremony with interest, never having attended a ceremony that had so many officiates. There was a Navajo Elder, a Baptist Preacher, and a Catholic Priest. Somewhere, she was sure that there was a good joke in that that would be the catalyst in her downward spiritual spiral, but still it was funny. Though she’d paid attention to the goings on at the Altar, she’d kept one eye on the crowd. She had momma eyes that allowed her to see everything going on and put an end to any nonsense with the quickness without even having to turn her head in the direction of aforementioned nonsense.
She’d been minding her own damn business minding everyone else’s when she’d spotted the white boy. Well, he wasn’t a boy, but he was definitely white. He would’ve been that kind of fine that made women lose their damn minds, with that honey-colored hair and fuck me body, but he had that crazy, about-to-make- the-evening-news look about him. And he kept looking in the direction of her baby…and that was unacceptable. She was on her way over to give him a piece of her mind and a swift kick in that delicious-looking ass when she was waylaid by her beautiful baby. Dammit. She’d have to put the fear of God in that man another time. Right now, her baby was hugging her, and she had to concentrate on maneuvering her baby around so that her body shielded Mariana. Oh damn, she loved that little girl something fierce, with those big eyes and that cute little pout she got when she was in danger of not getting her way. Luckily, she was hardcore and had ice water running through her veins (well either that or barbeque sauce) so Mariana couldn’t use those eyes and that pout against her at all. Okay, well maybe once or twice…a day. Dammit, she was a grown damn woman and Mariana was her baby so she didn’t have to say no to her if she didn’t want to so everyone could just shut the hell up. She was in the mind to kick someone’s ass. Where did Mr. Fine disappear to?
©2007 by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh All Rights Reserved
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