Hey all.

I hope this post finds you...as well as can be expected at the moment.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of the release of Falling for a Knight!

Falling for a Knight is one!

And I’ve started working on book, Seduced by a Knight, the finale of The Wild Knights Series.

I’ve got a long way to go, but I hope you will enjoy Ramsey’s story.

For know here’s a sneak peek at a portion of chapter 1.


“The last Knight standing…”
I swallowed the urge to let out an exasperated groan and plastered my best fake ass smile on my face before turning to see who was calling me out by Sweet Rapids’ latest moniker for me.
Ever since the two men whom I’d shared a womb with had found the loves of their lives – two exceptionally amazing women, by the way – everyone in my hometown was now looking at me as ‘The Last Knight Standing’.
It was annoying as fuck.
I could no longer paint my murals around town in peace without someone saddling up to me with the words “The last Knight standing”, which were followed up with a grin, a wink and a finger point gun shoot.
It was as if they were trying to telepathically shoot some kind of relationship juju on me.
And I would mentally dodge that shit every single time.
It wasn’t that I was against being in a committed relationship.
I was just too busy enjoying my life as it was at the moment.
Well…not at this exact moment.
At this exact moment, all I wanted was to just receive my damn order from Everetts’ Bakery. Instead I was staring at Mrs. Vandergriff, who was staring me down, a salacious grin covering her face.
Mrs. Vandergriff was a rich widow who was known around town to be…quite cougar-ish. And the way she was staring at me at the moment honestly had me ready to get the hell out of the bakery, donuts be damned.
“What was that, Mrs. Vandergriff?” I asked, feigning like I didn’t hear her the first time.
I tried not to cringe as I watched Mrs. Vandergriff slide her tongue across her top teeth.
“I said...how does it feel to be the last…Knight…standing,” she repeated before taking a step towards me. In turn I took a step back, bumping into the pick-up counter behind me. 
I peeked over to my left and noticed Tessa Noble, my cousin-in-law and co-owner of the bakery, biting her lip obviously holding in a laugh as she refilled the display case full of pastries. Behind me, Tessa’s sister, Dana, wasn’t as successful as I heard her let out a snicker.
“Uh…” I croaked, my voice several octaves higher than normal. I nervously reached up and rubbed my neck with the back of my hand. “It feels fine, I guess.”
Mrs. Vandergriff’s gaze traveled the length of my body at an uncomfortably slow pace, lingering way too long at the crouch area of my sweatpants.
“Hmmm, well if you ever need to see what it’s like with a woman of more…seasoned taste–”
“Aunt Irene!” I shouted, my eyes growing wide with relief when I saw my aunt walk into the bakery. I quickly sidestepped to get around Mrs. Vandergriff and met my aunt, who was looking quite amused, in two long strides. I wrapped her in a tight bear hug and I could feel her chuckling against my chest.
Mrs. Vandergriff turned to face me again, and just when she was getting ready to open her mouth and say who-knows-what, Dana called out to her, “Here’s your order, Mrs. Vandergriff.”
I glanced over my shoulder, watching as Mrs. Vandergriff turned and went to get her order. She turned and headed for the door, and I stepped behind my aunt, not ashamed one bit to say that I used her as a buffer between that horny old lady and myself.
And thankfully, Aunt Irene came to my rescue, snapping at Mrs. Vandergriff’s thirsty ass, “Keep it movin’, Pearl!”
Mrs. Vandergriff stood glaring at Aunt Irene, who looked like she was ready to end whatever shit Pearl might be ready to start, and then after a moment, let out a huff, pivoted on her heels and stomped out of the bakery.
As soon as the door closed, Aunt Irene, Tessa, Dana and several other women who’d been an audience to my encounter with Mrs. Vandergriff all burst out laughing.
My eyes cut back and forth between Tessa and Dana, who both had tears of mirth in their eyes.
“Y’all ain’t shit,” I said pointing from one sister to the other. “Imma remember this day when y’all need some graphics and Izzy is too busy to help.”
“We’re sorry,” Tessa said contritely, although she was still smiling. “But what could we have done?”
“That woman was one step away from grabbing your face and whispering in your ear that she didn’t have any panties on,” Dana mercilessly teased, causing the women to fall into a fit of giggles.
I shook my head, fighting to keep the grin off of my face as I snatched my to-go bag and coffee off of the pick-up counter.
“Swear it be yo own people,” I murmured as I turned and looked at my aunt.
She looked good and I was glad to see it. Especially after the passing of my uncle several years ago.
Uncle Isaac had been like a second father to me and my brothers; especially after our own dad had died and we moved to Sweet Rapids. His passing had been hard on us all.
The pain never went away, it just became tolerable I suppose.
But I was happy that Aunt Irene was still managing to live her life to the fullest. She was always on one adventure or another with my mother, Ruth, her twin sister.
Ruth and Irene both deserved after raising a set of triplets and quadruplets, respectively.
“Thank you,” I said to Aunt Irene. “For saving me just now.”
“You know I got your back, Nephew,” she said, lifting her hand to give my cheek a loving pat.
“I’ve got a fresh batch of bear claws for you, Mama,” Tessa said, heading to the kitchen of the bakery.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Aunt Irene replied to Tessa before turning her gaze back up to me. “What is on your agenda today?”
I held up my bag. “Fuel before I get back to work on finishing up the mural on the chamber of commerce building.”
“It’s looking so good,” Aunt Irene gushed. “What’s next after that?”
“The Music and Arts Festival,” I said.
“Oh that’s right! You’re doing the sidewalk chalk art displays all around town.”
“And the live paintings over at Remi’s brewpub,” I said referring to one of my brothers.
“Right, right. You’ll be painting while someone is singing, right?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Who’s singing?”
“I actually don’t know yet,” I said. “Remi told me a couple of months ago that he had someone chosen already, but I’ve been rippin’ and runnin’ so much between the murals here in town and the ones I’ve had to travel for that I haven’t had time to slow down and get all that hashed out.”
“I’m sure it’ll still be an amazing event,” Aunt Irene assured me.
“Well, I gotta go, Auntie,” I said. “I’ve also got a meeting with Mr. Freedman.”
Mr. Freedman was the owner of Freedman’s Bookstore for as long as I could remember. He’d reached out to me about doing a mural on the side of his building a few months ago, but I’d been so busy with other projects, most of which kept me out of town, that I hadn’t had chance to sit down and hash things out with him. But since I was back home for my latest commission with the chamber of commerce and the festival, I was finally making the time.
Mr. Freedman was one of the few people who, when I was growing up, was able to look past what everyone else just saw as a vandalizing kid and saw the potential of a budding artist.
When most adults were turning their noses up at me while chastising me and calling me a trouble-maker, Mr. Freedman would invite me into his bookstore and gather up books that helped me learn more about art.
Truth be told, if it wasn’t for him, I might not have become an artist. 
I owed him a lot.
So now that I was slowing down on my traveling, I was going to finally get around to meeting up with him.
I chatted it up with my aunt a few minutes more before heading out.
I’d just stepped out of the bakery onto the sidewalk, when I heard a bicycle bell frantic ringing. I quickly hopped back, just in time to avoid getting mode down by a bike whizzing by.
“What the…fuck…” I whispered, watching as a woman on the bike, zoomed along.
“Sorry!” she called out of her shoulder as she kept pedaling.
I didn’t get a good look at her face, only the profile. But between that and the mass of fiery red curls on her head I knew one thing for certain.
I was determined to find out who the hell she was.