K. Alex Walker's Blog, page 18

Parenting is “hard.”

Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios. For mature (18+) readers.

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“I think Matt just got one too many hits on the head.” Sommer tossed her laptop bag on the passenger seat and slipped behind the wheel of her BMW SUV. 

As expected, Matt had backed down when Austin showed up, mumbling something about “kidding” and that he’d meant “no disrespect.” Austin had dropped by with their son, Eli, so she could see him after his doctor’s appointment that afternoon. Eli had been battling a cold for the past week and a half.

Austin’s voice came through the car’s Bluetooth. “You okay?” 

“Yes.” She closed the driver’s side door. “I’m on my way now to pick Olivia up from ballet. How’s Eli? Still doing okay?”

“His breathing sounds good. None of that crackling like he had before.”

“Thank God.” In her mind, when Eli first started showing signs of a cold, he’d picked up whooping cough. Two kids later and she was still overanxious whenever they got sick or hurt in any way. “Want me to pick up dinner on the way?”

He released a breath. “Yes.”

“That sounded heavy. Are you okay?”

“Tired, mostly. Practice was brutal. Bring three of whatever you’re picking up.” His voice lowered. “And I’m still pissed about that Matt Wilson business.”

Austin had been more aggressive lately, on and off the field, especially where she and the kids were concerned. The change had come overnight, like someone had threatened them Monday which had resulted in the difference in his attitude Tuesday morning. 

Being in the public eye came with its fair share of threats, but none had ever amounted to anything. Hell, Austin’s own father had a restraining order which said he couldn’t come within one-thousand-feet of his own grandchildren. Not that he’d want to. He wasn’t exactly into having grandchildren who weren’t blond-haired, blue-eyed, and lily-white.

Austin’s mother was the opposite. She officially moved from North Carolina to Texas two months before Eli was born. In Austin’s mind, she moved only to be closer to him and the kids. He refused to acknowledge how serious her relationship with his sports agent, Gary, was becoming.  

Sommer smiled, thinking of that dark hair and those amber eyes, him relaxed at home with that little wrinkle of fatigue in the space between his brows. It was gray sweatpants season, and he was a regular contributor. She’d always fantasized about having a husband she was at least a little physically attracted to, but it was something different entirely having a husband who was a whole bag of sexy. 

“Baby, don’t worry about Matt.” She started up the car and eased her foot off the brake. “I can handle myself. It’s not like he’s the first one to hit on me.”

His tone sharpened. “Just how many people have been hitting on you?”

“Not the point, Aus—oh shit!” She slammed on the brake. Standing in the middle of the parking garage, his build like a massive statue in her headlights, was the topic of their conversation. 

“What happened?” Austin asked.

She kept her foot on the pedal but didn’t put the car in park. Just because Matt didn’t have a history of craziness didn’t mean he couldn’t have a bout of it. “Matt, what the hell?”

The Bluetooth speaker exploded. “Matt?”

Matt winked, blew her a kiss, and walked off. 

“He was in front of the car.” She sped the rest of the way to the parking garage exit. “Standing there. Like a lunatic.”

“I’ll have words with him when we play Houston Monday night.”

They chatted until she pulled up in front of the ballet studio. Olivia waited outside with the owner of the school, still in her tutu but with her coat strewn over it. The school had a system the parents had to log into to track when they were on their way, and Olivia never wanted to stay inside when she knew one of her parents were near.

“Livvie!” Sommer hopped out the car and nearly toppled over when her daughter rushed her. “Hi, my love. I missed you so much today.”

Olivia squeezed her around the neck. “I missed you too, Mommy.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dewey. Have a wonderful afternoon.” Sommer waved to the owner and turned to help Olivia into her booster seat. 

Olivia chatted like she hadn’t said a word all day—which wasn’t the case. Her daughter almost never stopped talking. It was the only “problem” her kindergarten teacher talked about at conferences, but getting Olivia to be quiet only lasted for a few minutes before the words stretched and crawled their way from her throat.

She talked her way through them picking up a brown rice, grilled chicken, and steamed vegetables dinner—rotisserie chicken and fries for Olivia. 

She talked as they pulled into the garage, walked into the house, and then around the dinner table after she washed up and changed out of her tutu.

And she didn’t stop talking until she fell asleep that night, no doubt her mind rolling with what she would talk about in the morning as she got ready for school.

Sommer stood in front of the bathroom mirror and swiped a cotton ball soaked with makeup remover over her face. Austin walked up and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Hi, beautiful.”

“Hi, handsome. Eli’s asleep already?”

“Mhm.” His dick pressed against the fabric of her pencil skirt. “I think that’s a new record.”

She tossed the cotton ball into the nearby trashcan and turned. He lifted her onto the vanity counter, spread her legs with his, and pushed the skirt up to her hips. 

“You know,” he slid his hand up her thigh, “I could fuck you right here.”

“You could.”

His finger searched for panties he wouldn’t find. She’d been getting ready to jump in the shower before remembering she was still wearing a full-face…and then she got stuck somewhere between both.

His thumb slid over her clit. “You’re already wet for me.”

“I walked through the door and you were wearing sweatpants. You know what that does to me.”

He smiled. The gesture lit his eyes. One hand played between her legs while the other lowered the waistband on the pants, springing his dick free. 

He lowered his head and trailed his tongue over the sensitive skin of her neck. She took him in her hands, scooted forward, and pressed the head of his erection against her opening.

A harsh cry came through the baby monitor. 

Austin’s forehead fell to her shoulder. “Damn.”

“You know him falling asleep that quickly was a fluke.” She gently nudged him back, hopped from the counter, and turned to wash her hands under the faucet. “I’ll get him.”

“Wait.”

The cries slowed and then quieted to a gentle snore.

Sommer bent. “Whoa. That never happens.”

“Don’t jinx it, baby.” Austin lifted the skirt and rubbed his hands over the globes of her butt, pressed his stiff dick against the seam. “My wife is so damn sexy.”

Eli’s cries started up again like a sputtering engine, this time louder. 

Soft knocks came next on the bedroom door and then Olivia’s muffled voice. 

“Mommy? Daddy? Eli woke up. Want me to get him?”

Austin took a step back. “You know it’s bad when your five-year-old offers to do the parenting.”

Sommer laughed and pressed a quick kiss on his mouth. “I’ll be right back.”

“You better.”

She watched him watch her leave in the mirror, his lids low and his left hand moving in a slow stroke from swollen tip to base.

 

Episode 003 – Football Fight Night



11/23/2019

Propositions and D*ck pics

Contains bad words and sex-y scenarios. For mature (18+) readers.

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Sommer Hayes had met bold people before. Hell, working PR for professional football players almost guaranteed it. But this was a level of bold she’d never encountered.

“Come again?” she asked.

“I want you,” veteran linebacker, Matt Wilson, said. “What do you have to say to that?”

Her office door was wide open. Other agents and administrative staff bustled about. Yet, Matt wasn’t trying to keep his voice low.

“You do know I’m married, right?” She held up her left hand. “And you know who I’m married to.”

Matt scrubbed the blond hair on his chin. “And? Look, I don’t know what’s been up with Austin, but he hasn’t been on his game. I heard Dallas is looking to trade him.”

“Rumors.”

“I think they’re true.”

“Okay, you can go now.” She gestured to the door. “I suggest you find someone else to help you with your PR needs.”

He stood and planted his palms flat on the tabletop. “I’m not here about my needs. I’m here about yours. I know they’re not being fulfilled right now, and I’m sure you’ve seen the ‘leaked’ photo of my dick.”

She had seen it. Apparently, it’d been released as some sort of “revenge porn” by his ex-wife after she lost nearly everything in their divorce settlement. The man was well hung, but dick wasn’t going to pull her away from her husband. Especially when that husband was packing more than enough to keep her twisted and screaming at night.

“That’s what I thought.” He licked his lips and straightened. 

“What the fuck did you just say to my wife?”

Matt turned. Sommer peered behind him. Austin was in the doorway, their sleeping one-year-old son tucked on his right shoulder.

Episode 2 – Parenting is “hard.”



11/16/2019

A NEW online series coming 11.9.19

I know you guys are excited about 
Myths, Legends, and Monsters, my new paranormal romance series starting in 2020. But there’s more writing to come…and much sooner than 01/01/2020.

I’m starting a new online series as well ::insert cheeky grin::

After “The End” is actually about characters from my past books–short pieces about how their lives have unfolded since you last visited them. Think of it kind of like an online series or sitcom, with each scene unfolding week by week with juicy plot pieces, drama, and more.

The first episode will be released November 9th, and it will feature the OGs: Austin, Sommer, their daughter, Olivia, and the newest member of the Riley clan, one-year-old, Eli.

Episode 1 – Propositions and D*ck Pics

xoxo,

Alex

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You don’t have to see the whole staircase. Just take the first step. – MLK Jr.

Anxiety is a tricky bugger. I happen to have the social variety wrapped in something that’s somehow even more powerful than that “irrational fear of social situations.” Baseline, on a scale of 1-10, is about a six. Without daily anxiety medication, it’s been wavering lower, at about a five. (Although I do better without daily medication, some people’s lives drastically improve with their usage. I advocate for doing what’s best for you.)

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Although everyone’s experience is different, I think at the basis of each person’s fight is a desire. Many times, we want to do the things we fear. I would like a diverse group of friends to watch Handmaid’s Tale with and, each week, we’d throw a red & white themed party. We’d get together to watch Marvel movies, the National College Football Championship, or those ridiculously cheesy romantic movie marathons on Hallmark.

My first step on the staircase is so small, I volleyed between whether or not I wanted to count it as a post, but then how helpful would that be? My aim is to share my experiences so celebrating only giant bounds and leaps would be counterproductive.

So, you’re wondering, “How small is this step?”

Well, I walked to the bank. SunTrust Bank, to be exact. To make a deposit.

I’ve read, from several different sources, that anxiety can heighten an individual’s response to pain and other stimuli. For some people, like myself, just the act of being outside in a public space can be overwhelming. It’s like that naked dream everyone supposedly has where your Pillsbury doughboy rolls are on display.

When the wind blows, you feel it rustle through even the finest hairs on your arms, alerting you to your unwalled environment. Shade trees come too few and far between leaving you subject to the sun’s wrath, like a pair of wet socks sitting in front of a heater.

Still, throughout all that, I walked.

[image error]Tampa Lighthouse For The Blind







The Journey

I walked until I looked around and realized nothing was familiar. This is usually the point where panic starts to set in–there’s nothing nearby to help ground you.

As you walk farther away from whatever had grounded you–your apartment, your house, your car–there’s nearly a physical pull at the back of your knees, begging you to turn around.

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It was at this point I smelled burning coals and grilled meat. Now, honestly speaking, I’m not the biggest meat eater, but I’ve been trying to incorporate more into my diet for persnickety health reasons and deficiencies. Regardless, because burning coal is something I smelled quite often growing up, that small jolt to the old olfactory was enough to settle some of the noise in my head.

[image error] Boca Tampa.
I’ve never been here but it’s very inviting and farm-to-table.

When that noise settled, I was able to better evaluate my surroundings, even feed a little bit of that “amateur home renovator” who lives inside me. The one who knows what ranch style and Victorian homes are, and who binges Alexandra Gater on YouTube.

[image error]Reminds me of a home in the Caribbean.



[image error]Beautiful red brick in a home style that brings with it mixed feelings.

I eventually made it to the bank. By the time I made it, I was too wound up to even think about conversing with a bank teller, but the ATM wouldn’t take my check. So, inside I went, and I ended up having a pleasant conversation with a man from Guyana. It was intermittent, kind of like a dripping faucet, and had just enough starts and stops to help me make it through.

[image error]More Caribbean-like homes across the street from the bank.







The Return

The walk back came with way less stress. I couldn’t tell you if it’s because I felt accomplished having done what I’d set out to do, or if it’s because on the walk back to my car, I had an anchor. I had something familiar, a home base. Reprieve.

[image error]A moment in the shade.

As I neared home base knowing Jackie Robinson was at the plate, and it was going to be smooth sailing once my car came into view, I thought about the pros and cons of the walk. But then, I did away with that. When you live with anxiety, cons beat pros with baseball bats. They mace them. They give them wrong directions and then snicker about it.

I decided, instead, to reflect on what I took away from the experience:

I remained on alert, partially due to the anxiety. The other part is a safety reflex I have, especially as a short, unassuming woman.Vehicle sounds aren’t white noise. It’s even worse when they’re passing you at 50mph.Tampa should return to considering some redevelopment to encourage walking and public transport. Besides two other women, I was the only person on the street.The entire time I was in the bank, my boyshorts were above my jeans, and there was a slit in the back of my tank top so they were on full display. The…entire…time.All in all, I’m proud of having accomplished even something so small, but it was tiring, and I’m not looking forward to the next Amateur Tampa excursion.

But I can do it. And so can you.

Until next time,

xoxo, Alex.

New Year, New Series



Release Date: 01-01-2020



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No one defies the Lord of the Underworld. 

Chief Mataio Tauati took over his father’s post as Gatekeeper of The Dead at seventeen years of age. Twelve years later, he’s become the strongest god of his ancestral lineage. To challenge him is a death sentence and, for the most part, everyone understands the rules.  

For the most part.

Archaeologist Tia Coleman seems hell bent on proving herself as the exception.

He saves her life and yet, she finds him terrifying. Admittedly, his size and build aren’t exactly small—there’s nothing small about him—but for a woman who claims to be put off by his imposing stature, she has no problems getting under his skin…like an aggravating, beautiful, fire-breathing dragon of a tick. 

To complicate matters further, there’s a prophecy, and although he isn’t one to believe in them, this one is proving itself to be more than troublesome. It involves him, Tia, and something he’s always believed to be a myth—the woman who delivers the Lord of the Underworld’s missing heartbeat. 

Being the strongest means there’s no room for weakness, no matter how much she softens him. There’s no room for vulnerability, no matter how easily she brings him to his knees.

He won’t protect her. 

He won’t give his life for her. 

He won’t take on the world for her or destroy any being, mortal or immortal, foolish enough think they’ll hurt her in his presence. 

He certainly won’t kill…them…all.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Hi loves,

There are some new developments for KAlexWrites on the wing coming for the remainder of 2019 and beyond. The first is a tad bit personal, but it addresses a challenge I don’t face alone in this world. In observance of #worldmentalhealthday, let’s start with:

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Anxiety in general can be crippling enough that you don’t want to leave your house, but with the added factor of social fear (sometimes disgust, sometimes reprehension), it can alter the trajectory of your life. So, once a month, I’ll be taking another, and then another baby step into a better future with my #amateurtampa series.

I’ve lived in Tampa for most of my life. I was born in the Caribbean, the US Virgin Islands to be exact, but moved to Florida relatively young. Considering how long I’ve lived here, I’ve never explored too much of the city. You could say I was raised a certain way—to be good, to be compliant, to always stay in line—and part of that involved staying at home “like a good girl” and predicating all my success upon whether or not I’m marriage material.

Hey, it happens.

None of that is practical, however, and there are many women, many people across the globe struggling with who they want to be vs. who they are expected to be. Some of us are even held in line by violence—overt and subliminal—and our cries for help are so minute, you miss them every-single-time.

I like to believe that those who are undergoing the same experience come across this blog (at least one person). And if you’re here and you can’t be strong on your own, how about we find strength together?

Amateur Tampa will consist of me going to different locations in Tampa to chronicle where I am, what I’m doing there, and the physical reactions taking place while I’m there. To start, the goal is to see somewhere new once per month. The end goal is to amateur my butt all over the contiguous United States and then some. The underlying mechanism: exposure to different stimuli in amounts that increase over time to reduce the negative effects of social exposure.

In short, reduce the social anxiety but keep the introversion.

Don’t let the internet fool you. Social anxiety and introversion are two COMPLETELY different animals. One is a bull; the other is a chameleon.

Join me. Lurk in the shadows or happily comment. It doesn’t matter. I’ve a platform, albeit the length of your average pirate-ship plank, but it’s a platform nonetheless.

Ye our voices may be small, but our fingers typeth swift. It is with our pads-to-the key we shall change the world, one whisper, one stumble, and one blush at a time.

First Post – 10.31.2019

“Tampa Through Thine Eyes”

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Hi loves.

So, like the title says, I was finally able to stop wiggling long enough to sit and watch a movie. I’m a sucker for movies about music, and I wanted to see this in theaters—I always want to see things in theaters, really. 

Honestly.

Yesterday is a movie starring Himesh Patel as Jack Malik, a struggling singer-songwriter at a crossroads where many creatives often find themselves—safety and security vs. the risk of a dream.

After a particularly rough gig and what, to me, seems like personal discontent with his very own, Summer Song, Jack resigns himself to going back to teaching. The life of a star just isn’t cut out for him, is nowhere in the deck of cards.

On his way home, he drops the bomb on his manager and best friend, Ellie, that he’s ready to call it quits. Ellie doesn’t agree. She’s always supported him and naturally, sees more in Jack than he sees in himself. But Jack is in crisis; it’s been years and there has been little to no movement in his career. At what point does he take responsibility for his life? At what point does he take responsibility for his lack of progression and development?

Frustrated, Jack leaves Ellie’s car and goes to his bike, choosing to ride the rest of the way home. On the way, a global event catapults the world into what we all were low-key afraid was going to happen when the clock struck 12am on 1/1/2000.

The entire world goes dark. Jack gets struck by a bus and loses two teeth. When he wakes up, the Beatles no longer exist, Coke is just cocaine, and as a musician, he has a decision to make.

All in all, the movie is lovely, but for me, it held an underlying sort of depression. There’s another movie that had a similar effect on me, The Words featuring Bradley Cooper and Zoe Saldana. 

W hat if we never realize our dreams because, even at our best, we’ll never be good enough for greatness?

We’ve been told, ad nauseam, by our parents, teachers, and 1990s programming that if we work hard enough, we can achieve anything. But at what point do we forgive ourselves should we fall short?

I write. I write blog posts that are sometimes poignant and other times…for lack of a better phrase…blithering blather. When it comes to what I’ve published, you could say I write romance. Some would call it emotional and feelings rubbish (we all have an inner caricature of a tenured English professor in a tweed jacket we fight with, often daily). Others would call it akin to going to a nightclub and, while your friends all order Long Islands, you get an amaretto sour—just a bit of liqueur, but nothing heavy. A strumming, throbbing staff instead of a full-blown dick.

Maybe a romance novel will never be the next Great American novel. Maybe it will be and it won’t be mine.

Am I okay with this?

The truth is…I’m not certain. I’m not sure. 

At the heart of Yesterday, there is definitely a love story. If you watched Paul McCartney’s appearance on Colbert recently, you’ll know love is/was at the core of very nearly each piece released by The Beatles and subsequently, Sir McCartney-solo. We shuck and shun love, kick and spit, as if it wronged us somehow. As if we weren’t the ones who corrupted it, violated it, and then blamed it for being impure.

And it’s not just love between the two main characters, Jack and Ellie. It’s a love for what you do, what we do as creatives and if, at the end of the day, we can accept “mediocrity.” Love it, even.

If I were a rating person, which I’m very often not, I would give this movie 4 out of 5 stars because it’s not often a love story hurts. We get our HEA, we get our fated couple and even a little friends-to-lovers trope action, but we also get a mirror roundhouse-kicked into our faces. We get our eyes plucked wide, lids pinching. We are forced to see ourselves bare, naked with the imperfections, that little drop at the bottom of our bellies, and the dimples of cellulite in our inner thighs.

All I want is money, eff the fame, I’m a simple…girl.

For me, I don’t want fame, talk shows, guest appearances. However, I would like to accomplish something memorable.

I’d be fine with a Netflix or Disney Channel Plus series. Machine Gun Kelly’s Alpha Omega as the main promo track for The Gatekeeper, and Roman Reigns starring in the first season, Candice Patton in the second (unless she’s tied up with The Flash. I need her to stay there).

I’d be fine with more kind emails and DMs. Seeing the places I write about in person so I can be there for the smells and sounds. Moving my parents to a better neighborhood. Sending my dad on his dream vacation to Aruba. A comfortable life where writing is enough to start nonprofits, live in different countries, live in a home.

When I’ve created this convoluted matrix of a plot in my brain, and I’ve finally regurgitated it in a word processing program, all I need is for it to be at least 85% of what I’d seen in my head.

I have no second dream, no passion greater than this. There are other things I could do, roles I could take-on, but it would always be like a character in a play. There’s nothing like the voice writing has given me, shy girl with the dent in her can, damaged goods, if you will. This ability to communicate when yelling just isn’t my thing.

When the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me.

Shine until tomorrow.

Until next time.

xoxo,

Alex

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…And why didn’t I know about it sooner?

Hi loves,

Truth be told, I’ve never been a hardcore gamer. I’ve only beat like maybe four or five games in my lifetime, repeating a few. My favorites are classics which all have the adventure theme in common—Mario, Zelda, Skies of Arcadia, etc. with Ocarina of Time being my favorite game of all time. Ever. Never gonna give you up, Rick Astley style.

https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images

Ever since college, I don’t think I’ve played anything but maybe old school Mario and, again, replayed Ocarina of Time (with the exception of The Sims. I freakin’ love The Sims).

Recently, I was telling my sister how much I missed it, and then, Greedfall came across my everywhere (you know how social media likes to do).

From what I understand, it’s set in the 17th century ::history lover orgasm:: revolves around a fictional island ::world builder orgasm:: and includes mysterious ailments, alliances, magic, and monsters.

So, essentially, what this means is:

I’m going to have to learn how to rest and take breaks. The circles under my eyes can swallow stars.We’ve been talking about getting a Switch to leave at my parents’ house for family get-togethers, but I live here #millennial so it’s looking like we’ll also need a PS4. I need to ask my brother about his betrayal this game because he knows about all things gaming and how dare he. I’m going to have to realize working on my craft, as well as helping others develop theirs, for 12 to 15hrs per day is more than enough. Adulting is hard in 2019 with falling interest rates, a burning Amazon rainforest, student loan debt that goes nowhere when you pay it…



::sigh::

Revive the kid in you, man. Let go a little.

…and then pick up a game controller.

xoxo,

Alex

The song that inspired even a beast like Giorgio











Hi loves,

One of my father’s favorite genres of music is country. It’s actually very common among Caribbean men, young and old, and it’s a Caribbean man who introduced me to Tennessee Whiskey. I’d never heard any version of it up to 2019, but then my cousin’s brother-in-law came into the picture. We’ll call him Gatlin, after Justin Gatlin, because he ran track…like Justin Gatlin.

Gatlin is a tall, handsome man with sex appeal like a fruit ripening in spring, which naturally made me terrified of him. You see, for a person who enjoys the heck out of writing romance, I AM SHY. Imagine the shyest person you’ve ever met, clone them, and then mold both forms together. My fingers aren’t shy (i.e. I can write about anything. See my last post about my breakfast), but in person…lordt.

Example

About a month ago, a Best Buy sales technician cornered me, like they like to do, and everything was fine—I can talk my way through computer specs, processors, hard drive capacity, etc—until he posted up and crossed his arms. Until he started asking me non computer-related questions. Until he did this thing Chipotle (a guy from my past for those just now jumping into the KAlexWrites world) used to do: he looked at me when I laughed. Like really looked at me. That encounter still makes me sweat and my heart race.

When Gatlin introduced me to Tennessee Whiskey, I instantly fell in love with the song. I thought about Gio, what kind of music he would like, and then I saw him and Mo #spoileralert at their wedding dancing beneath string lights while it played in the background. I saw the interplay between this beast of a man and the boy who’d been looking for the kind of love only Mo could deliver. Then from my brain to my fingers to the book…

What did you guys think? Did it fit Gio?

https://cdn.diys.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/DIY-Floating-Candle-Barn-Wedding-Ceremony-Decor.jpg

Hi loves!

First off, I’d just like to say, I change the layout of my page often. This one seems to work, makes it easy for you guys to find what you need, right? If not, let me know.

Now that we’ve got that covered…

This new series…where did it come from?

I love world building. It might be why things like Marvel Comics and Star Wars and anime speak to something creative inside me. I love the creation of something new–Titan where Thanos is from. Well…was. One of my favorite places in the Star Wars expanded universe is the planet Scarif. Jedha pulls in at a close second. (It appears I have a thing for planets that get destroyed in some way). Anime, I like, because the kid in me meshes with the adult who likes drama and underdog stories. On the flipside, I’m a sucker for a cute RomCom, Megan Thee Stallion gives me LIFE, and I’ve been known to enjoy a nice ego for breakfast.

I started writing about Tia and Mataio as a paranormal contemporary. I’ve tried, Lord knows I’ve tried, but I haven’t been able to successfully pull off “just” contemporary romance.

Mataio, I was influenced to recreate because of a commercial for a movie. And not just any movie. Hobbs and Shaw.

It was the first time I’d ever seen Roman Reigns (I stopped watching wrestling around 8th grade), so I immediately googled that sexy sonofabitch man and heard church bells. I’d asked God to help me flesh out my next hero because like hot wax, none of my conceptualizations were coming together. He’d already sent me the plot in a wild dream and let me know it was time to write something that would scare the mess out of me. Here He was, coming through for me again.

The book is set primarily in the South Pacific on a group of fictional islands known collectively as Tauati [Tah-oo-ah-tee]. It weaves mythology and folklore (Tongan, Samoan, African, Greek) to create the world in which Mataio and Sefa hold supernatural command. What I’ve attempted to do is bring Oceania to life and depict something both new and familiar, as well as throw in a captivating story with love, romance, betrayal, war, and passion.

Mataio is Atua Pulotu, God of the Underworld. Sefa is his best friend and guardian, a duty bestowed upon him since birth. Because of the sacrifices Sefa has to make, Mataio doesn’t enjoy the man who is essentially his brother being in that role. But for Sefa, his purpose is clear, and it has always been to protect Mataio and eventually, Tia.

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Tia Coleman, Mataio’s love interest, was influenced by one of my many girl crushes, Teyonah Parris. I wanted to step outside of #bwwm a little and expand brown girls into #fantasy and #multiculturalromance.

The official cover reveal will be on my birthday, 10/25. But, for now, I hope you enjoy this quick excerpt.



xoxo, Alex.

The linkage broke. He opened his eyes to Fai staring at him, a smile on her face that made him think of distrust, of betrayal. Of contempt. But the taunuuga couldn’t lie, no matter how much she detested her new role as a commoner, expelled from the life of the gods.

“And what does she have to do with me?” he questioned.

“It is you she seeks, Mataio. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

She moved to stand, but Sefa stepped forward and pinned her to her seat without a single touch, fire blazing in his golden eyes.

Beneath Mataio’s feet, the floor rumbled. He followed the path of the disturbance to the balcony doors and a storm fast approaching over waters that had been calm just moments before. Silent waves had transformed, almost instantly, into angry torment.

His jaw clenched, teeth tight. “Tell me why this woman seeks me.”

Fai indicated with her chin. “She is in the middle of noa noa, the barren lands. Go to her, or she will die.”

He stood, his height looming over her, her head tilting back as their gazes clashed. “I am the God of the Underworld. How could this woman possibly—”

“She is mafu. Your heartbeat.”

His body went rigid. “That’s…impossible.”

“Said the fool to his fate.”

The wind picked up. The storm’s ire rumbled run through him, creating chaos in his veins.

“Sefa, escort Fai out,” he ordered. “If I’m not back in ten minutes…”

Sefa grinned and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, eyes never leaving Fai. “I will order her execution.”

Note: Angels and Assassins will still continue.