A good wholesome woman teams up with Chicago's biggest kingpin in search of a killer.
Rain’s son was shot down in a drive-by, yet her husband still finalized the divorce in the same month. She has nothing left in this world to hold onto other than the Chicago kingpin named Face, who had mysteriously approached her with information about her son’s murder.
An indifferent Chicago P.D. forces this unlikely pair, Rain, a woman of faith, and Face, king of the streets, to scour the unforgiving city in a perilous attempt track down the killers. In doing so, they find themselves in too deep, in more ways than one. Together they take on the world, enemies both seen and unseen – enemies even within Face’s own camp and perhaps even Face himself, as Rain folds into the layers of him, and finds what seems to be a telling ulterior motive.
The Harvest uniquely manages action with thrilling intrigue, suspense, well-executed plot twists and searing emotion that is often breath-taking and often heart-breaking. Read now and be enraptured by this sensual urban romance where the pursuit of justice may not allow room for love. Unearth the depths of this street conspiracy along with the depths of two broken hearts.
EXCERPT
*Lucid Emotion*
I let him smear a tear across my cheek with his thumb. I swallowed hard and glanced down at his lips: at what I wanted from him. Our lips pressed as we inhaled deeply, together like one being. I got up and sat over him, probably too soon. He peeled my dress down to my waist and we were both naked from the waist up, flesh against flesh. Overwhelmed by the sudden advance of boundaries, the newness of one another now up so close; we rested forehead on forehead, blinking, sighing, gazing. I hung onto that moment like it was everything. After having lost half the people I truly love in this world, in the span of a month, I didn’t have the mind to sow anything long and drawn-out like love, knowing full well that tomorrows are not promised. All I could want for, realistically, was relief. If words were allowed, he would’ve asked if I was sure. Face remained suspended, waiting for the slightest guide. I looked at him with eyes as serious as a surgeon’s and I rocked back and forth in his lap, showing how the only thing in the way of what I wanted was clothing, which we then peeled away, hurriedly, like gift wrapping. He dropped his pants around his ankles. I stepped out of my underwear and hiked up my dress. The sounds made it real: hearing the rip of his zipper, the ruffle of material, the trickle of his belt falling, and the chalkboard tap and scrape of my heels on the hard floor. I felt the chemical rush of hunger escalating to panic as he guided the long nose – like humming bird to flower. We clutched like we were hanging onto one other for dear life, dangling from a cliff. I leaned back, leaving one hand gripping the back of his neck as I swirled on top of him, mixing like batter. His brow twitched, surprised that this good-girl had it in her, but he also took the queue to match my intensity. He stood with me; my legs clamped his waist. I released an open-mouthed moan, under the illusion of weightlessness – the ecstasy of freedom. Free from under the sadness that weighs on me daily. We kissed ravenously, like vampires. Gently, he laid me down. My lower half was off the piano, suspended in his hands. I propped up on my elbows, legs wide as an archer’s bow...
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