(All Rights Reserved! No part of this story can be copied, shared, or reproduced in any shape or form without permission from the author and she said hell no.) I am what folks around here call slow. The word retarded was whispered behind my back since I was old enough to recognize it. The word was used so often that it became a part of me. It didn’t offend me or make me feel different. To me, it was another descriptive word, like short or tall. Being called slow didn’t burn

Hugo Black “She is gone.” I choke on the words and hold her body close. “Valentina is gone.” I felt her soul depart on an icy breeze in Louisiana. The breeze whispered to me, I love you, as she went limp in my arms. My Valentina is gone. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I hug her body so tightly that it is in danger of being crushed. This is all that is left of her. A limp body. Valentina is no more. She is a part the universe, awaiting her fate. Her death is a shock to us

“I need to speak with the Smith’s.” Momma sets down the wet brush to pin my hair back. “The bombing left us homeless and I need to take possession of our house. I can’t spend another night in that muddy tent. Missus Walker is going down to the prison to see Leslie. You can go with her if you like. Expect me back before dark.” My heart finally sees light in these dark days. Watching the house you grew up in burn to the ground takes a lot out of a person. So does cleaning up af

“We want the niggah what hit Jamie Dearborn on his head and got him laid up! You niggahs know somethin’. Send Della’s girl out here. Did she throw that rock?” “Sweets ain’t threw nothin’ at nobody!” Mister Charles yells at the nightrider. “That rock was throwed from the crowd. Nobody saw who done it. Jamie Dearborn ain’t supposed to be down here botherin’ her no way! The Sheriff told that mothafucka to leave her be!” A gun fires. Mister Charles grabs at the bloody hole in his

Pow! Pow! Pow! The men are shooting again. Someone screams in pain. Pow! Pow! Pow! Gunshots riddle the wall behind me. We are going to die! “Wake up, Sweets! We need to get out of here.” Missus Walker is shaking me but I am already awake. “There’s a gunfight in the gambling hall. Some white man got drunk and started shooting anything that walks. The other gamblers started shooting back.” I sleep at Missus Walkers on the hottest nights because she has a fan. The gunfire is lo

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Hello everyone. Thank you for continuing to support me! I've finished revising SBDB and book one is finished! As promised, you get to read it first! I wanted to upload the complete novel but I have size limits for posts. The book is spread out over six posts that are available to read until I get the final version back from the editor for Amazon. I am still writing Dirty White Boy and Sugar Baby 2026 which I will share also before they head over to Amazon. Happy reading!

Leslie is looking me in my eyes, so I know he isn’t joking. He killed her. He killed his wife. The fact makes me nervous. I would be a fool to not be nervous. But I am not afraid of him when I should be. What will stop him from killing me if he has a mind to?

Momma fought me and forbade it, but here I am walking down the road in my best dress carrying a quilt and a picnic basket. Not even her disappointment can break the pull of Leslie Kelly. I look forward to seeing him again. I look forward to feeling his arms around me. “You are making a mistake, Leslie. Come to Oklahoma with me. We can start over together.” “Oklahoma is your dream, Beeman, not mine. I am going to Texas with Tuesday.” My feet stagger when I spot Leslie. He is

Momma and me sit up front in the sheriff's automobile for the ride to the Dearborn place. This is my first time riding in one and I hold onto her like one of us is dying. We are going far too fast for my liking. Sheriff Davies toots his horn when we pull up to the Dearborn mansion. Missus Patty comes out with two slaves, I mean maids, and their faithful butler backing her up. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” “I need a word with yore husband, Patty.” He spits out a lump of s

Momma knocks on Margot’s door. It opens a moment later. Her youngest sister Nancy looks tired and her lipstick is smeared. She had a long night sucking and fucking. Sarah is here too.

My heart catches when I see silvery raindrops clinging to his long lashes. Why does he have tears in his eyes for someone he doesn’t know? I use my hands to tell him what happened. “Show me where they hurt ye, lass.” I point to my heart before my body falls against him. The convict lifts me into his arms and holds me tightly. I’ve never felt so safe. I’ve never felt so… “Get her some water!” Leslie yells desperately. “She’s in shock.” He removes the money from my hands and st

I shake my head again. Goodie laughs when I back away from her. “I’m glad she isn’t a virgin. They lay there or cry. Their inexperience isn’t worth having them first. I like my head to ease right in.” Felix Fitzgerald’s smile tells me that he doesn’t believe me. His dark eyes skip over my body like a pebble across a pond. “You grew up to be a pretty thing, didn’t you, rape baby?” This is not the slow, careful, way Leslie Kelly ate me up with his warm, green eyes. That man loo

Hello all! It's your girl JanJan. I hope you are happy and well. I post more chapters of SBDB because the story was previously written on Vella and I'm simply cleaning it up for publishing. DWB is being written. I am currently knees deep in Sugar Baby also and pushing to finish the entire story before sharing it. Thank you for your patience. I enjoy reading your comments and try to respond when I can. If you have any questions or want to say something, this is a safe place. M

He doesn’t like the way she points out my faults. “My name’’s Leslie.” He reaches for my hand. “Leslie Michael Kelly. Don’t listen to Margot. She doesn’t take no for an answer. Me and her sister had a short run, but nothing came of it. I had visits from girls at the roadhouse since I’ve been here. They might have something to say about me. Ignore them. None of it was serious.” Why am I letting this womanizing convict hold my hand? And why does holding his hand feel so right t