ALittleTasteofHome Read online

  A woman with a checkered past finds love in the least expected of places…

  Sanura “Mac” McKie is a restaurateur who’s trying to put her past behind her. Running her business is her focus and has made her into a woman who’s unused to explaining her actions to others. Taking a delivery one morning changes everything.

  Gavin Rawlins is an architect looking to start his own company and get away from his current boss. Wealthy and used to getting what he wants, he’s immediately enamored with the woman who stops by to deliver their lunch during a meeting. She’s completely different from the women he usually meets—those who want access to his money. It isn’t an issue for her, at least not in the way he’s used to.

  His pursuit of her is hampered by an interfering mother, a few misunderstandings, and a past that keeps popping up to haunt her. When the smoke clears, will Gavin be able to keep the woman who’s become more to him than just his vision for the future? Can he get Mac to trust in his love and prove he’s out for more than a little taste of home?

  A Little Taste of Home

  Quad Series, Book One

  by

  Aliyah Burke

  MF, ROMANCE, EROTIC ROMANCE, CONTEMPORARY, AND INTERRACIAL

  Twisted E Publishing, LLC

  www.twistedepublishing.com

  A TWISTED E PUBLISHING BOOK

  A Little Taste of Home

  Quad Series, Book One

  Copyright © 2017 by Aliyah Burke

  Edited by Kat Lively

  First E-book Publication: July 2017

  Cover design by MMJ Designs

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2017, Twisted Erotica Publishing, LLC.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All characters participating in sexual situations are above the age of 18.

  Sign-up for the Twisted E-Publishing Interracial Romance Newsletter for up to date news about new releases and specials from Aliyah and our other IR authors HERE

  Four women, strangers to one another.

  Each unique and special in her own way.

  A mistake one night unites them and a sisterhood is born.

  Their stories are as different as the card suits.

  A club.

  A diamond.

  A spade.

  And a heart.

  They are tied together by that unbreakable bond of friendship.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Other TEP Books by Aliyah

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Late 1980’s

  Guilty. Well this is it. Is there some divine plan for me here, Lord? ’Cause I am feeling a bit left out of it. The young woman remained stoic as she digested the verdict. Her life was officially over. She was officially a felon.

  “Very well. Sentencing will begin nine o’clock on Monday.” The judge’s gavel hit and it was final.

  Her lawyer turned to her and shrugged. “Sorry about that.”

  Sorry? That was all he could say? Sorry? Pitiful excuse for a lawyer. Charging all that money for such a weak defense. He didn’t even seem to care. Rising with a calm she far from felt, Sanura McKie nodded once to her lawyer and followed him out of the courtroom.

  “We need to meet and discuss what you want to do next,” the attorney said.

  His beady little eyes basically had dollar signs flashing in them as they racked up her expenses for whatever came next. Sanura followed him into a small room and shut the door behind her. After he sat she did too. She waited for him to say something.

  Anything.

  She was on autopilot as she could hardly believe the verdict.

  “We need to decide if you want to file an appeal or not.”

  Sanura swung her eyes towards the pale man sitting across from her. He was more overweight than stocky and didn’t have much of a neck. She sat in silence as she watched a bead of sweat run down his face and disappear into the expensive fabric of his suit. At that single moment she despised every single white person in the world.

  Every solitary one.

  And that hate included even her birth mother, whom she hadn’t seen since she was six years old. For that one flash of a moment Sanura even hated the part of herself that was white. Not like she was considered white, for she had way more than a drop of black blood in her, and for society all it took was a single drop. One single drop of blood from a black person in your lineage and you were branded as being black.

  Don’t get me wrong, Lord, I don’t have a problem with who I am. Even though life doesn’t always treat me fair, I have learned to roll with the punches and appreciate the woman I was allowed to become. But some days I would like to know what it is like to not be judged by the color of one’s skin. Particularly mine.

  She should have trusted her gut. Should have gone with a different lawyer. Should have taken the stand. Should have never worked for that damn job.

  How in the hell could a bunch of reasonable people find her guilty? The videotape they claimed to have used to see her doing this so-called offense had gone missing. That was, of course, after it had gotten distorted and finally had been declared “all shadow,” so nothing could be made out of it. Her old boss had changed her story so much it gave Sanura whiplash trying to keep up.

  Then there were the documents. They were all forged with her signature and her boss even admitted doing it. This in itself was a felony, not that they seemed to care. Not that it mattered. No matter what the year, as long as a black defendant sat before a lily-white jury the verdict would be the same. Guilty.

  Her eyes watched the man she had grown to despise for his lack of motivation to clear her name. “I am done. No appeals, no nothing. Get it over with.”

  The light dimmed in his eyes as the lawyer realized his money was coming to an end with her. His voice was almost scornful when he said, “Very well. Sign this. Hopefully the judge won’t be too hard on you. You haven’t been in trouble before, have you?”

  That scum. He knew the answer. Nonetheless, her tone stayed modulated as she answered, “No. I have no record.” Until now. Now she was a bloody flippin’ felon.

  “Well, I will need to work on an argument for the judge. Don’t leave town and be here about thirty minutes early on Monday morning.”

  What did he take her for? An idiot? Of course she wouldn’t leave town. “Fine. I will see you Monday.” Sanura rose and walked out the door, with her head high even though on the inside she was screaming with pain and fury.

  Chapter One

  Seven years later, along the Georgia coastline

  “The meeting starts in ten minutes, Mr. Rawlins,” Janice Waters spoke quickly as he blurred past in his usual hurry.

  “Fine.” That was it and he was gone. Gavin Montgomery Rawlins sped past his blonde secretary without any personal acknowledgemen
t or morning greeting. Not unusual, for he rarely spoke to anyone around the architectural firm.

  He knew what they said about him. Knew also what they saw when they looked at him. He was tall, standing well over six feet. His hair was blondish-brown, as if it couldn’t decide which color it desired to be. Usually a lock fell forward over his eyes. Eyes colored a startling aqua blue which had made many hearts skip a beat or two, not that he ever looked most in the eyes, unless it was to intimidate. Something he was very good at doing.

  His body was fit from all his hours of working out. Even when he was dressed in immaculate suits, people could see his shoulders were wide, stomach flat and arms and legs strong. His face rang full of strength and determination. He wasn’t pompous, it was a fact he had great genes.

  But, he knew how they viewed him. He was a crab. Grouch. Scrooge. Arrogant jerk. You name it, if it was negative, it was him. He didn’t have many friends in the firm, only one actually. No one knew if he had a girlfriend, for he kept his private life just that. Private. He’d heard the rumors that with his looks and the attention and money he paid to and for his clothes, he was probably gay. “More’s the pity,” women at the firm said.

  He was an architectural genius. And filthy rich as well, for his mother was a billionaire, making him the most eligible bachelor for miles around, if not in the country.

  “Sir? Will you need me at the meeting today?” Janice questioned softly after she entered his spacious office after knocking.

  “No.”

  That was it. No “thanks for asking,” no nothing.

  “Very well.” She walked back to the door when he called out to her. Janice spun back, the expression on her face telling of her desire for him before she could mask it. Again, something he ignored.

  “Wait. Lunch?”

  Two words, the minimum amount of speaking. Even then he wasn’t asking if she would like to go to lunch with him, but when was it coming and did she do her job.

  “Yes. It will be delivered about thirty minutes after your meeting starts.”

  “Good. Same place?” Gavin snapped. He was in a bad mood and wanted to get out of here. He couldn’t, though, for there was a long day of work ahead of him.

  “No, sir. That place doesn’t deliver lunch anymore.”

  “Then where from?” He was a bit perturbed, for he was not a man who liked disruption; he had his routine and liked it that way.

  “The place across the street. The one we get the morning muffins and donuts from. A Little Taste of Home, it’s called.”

  “Very well, make sure the orders are right.”

  “Of course, sir.” She shut the door behind her.

  Exactly six and a half minutes later he flew out of his office and headed to the room for the meeting. Again without a word to her. Or to the frightened intern he almost ran over.

  As he sat at the meeting, idle thoughts ran through his head.

  This was the definition of insanity. Why didn’t he begin his own firm? What was the point in kissing the asses of these partners when all he really wanted to do was beat them all and their backwoods ideas about people? He was filthy rich and could do so, but he wanted to do so based on merit, not because he was rich. He wanted to build up his own firm from scratch.

  “So, we think we should not take the offer from Harris and get the account from Morris instead. Rawlins, what do you think?” Boyle Dorgan, the head of the firm—a stout man with thinning hair, lots of money and a neck as red and thick as Georgia clay—asked.

  What do I think? I think you are idiots for turning down Harris’ request and taking Morris’ instead.

  Harris would pay much better and it was for a better cause. Not that it would matter to them. The Morris account was for wealthier people and would give them a better reach to the muckity-mucks. And keep them farther from people of color. The Harris account was ultimately for helping those less fortunate which meant mostly minorities. Gavin would not be the least bit surprised to find his boss had a huge swastika tattooed on his chest.

  But, can’t say that to the boss no matter how much he wanted to. Not yet.

  “I think either account would be fine.”

  Brown eyes cut towards him as he could hear his boss asking why he said that. The man next to him, David Kitridge, took a sharp breath at Gavin’s answer and made as if he were going to say something to refute what Gavin had dared to say. But a buzz on the intercom interrupted them.

  “Go ahead, Kelly.” Boyle’s voice was deep.

  “Sorry, sir, but lunch has been delivered,” the secretary said.

  “Send them in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kelly was the secretary and love interest of the boss, who didn’t believe his wife would ever catch on he was sleeping around on her. Kelly believed she couldn’t be touched and spent much of her time trying to get Gavin into her bed as well. She was a woman driven by the desire for money, and lots of it. So when the wealthy bachelor Gavin M. Rawlins came to work at the firm she set her sights on him. That put him a bad light with Boyle Dorgan to begin with; Gavin’s attitude did nothing to help as he acted cold and short with everyone, including the partners.

  The large oak door swung open and a cart slid in, pushed by a woman. A black woman with hair stuffed under a navy blue baseball cap bearing the logo “A Little Taste of Home” written in gold on the front. She wore a deep green t-shirt and khakis with hiking boots on her feet. She was slender but there was strength in her arms, for the cart moved smoothly forward.

  Gavin caught himself staring at her as his heart did a little flip, and a lot of flop, on him. Her face was oval shaped and she sported high cheekbones. Her lips were full but her eyes were covered by the brim of her hat. He wished she would remove it so he could see her eyes.

  The whole room fell quiet as she entered and shut the door behind her. The smells of food, wonderful food, filled the air. The woman first headed for the head of the table where Boyle Dorgan sat. When she reached his left side she leaned down and whispered to him. After receiving his response she looked over her cart and pulled off a Styrofoam container and set it in front of him before placing a drink and some silverware down as well.

  Around the table she went, always putting herself on the left side of the person at the table, very professional. She spoke very low and Gavin never got to hear her voice until she came to him. There remained only two items left on the cart when she stopped beside him. Gavin half expected her to smell like grease and food, but he had never been so wrong. She smelled like lilacs. He never knew he liked the scent so much.

  “What did you order?”

  Her words were intoxicating and Gavin felt his heart begin to race. “I got the special. And a Coke.” Damn, but he wanted to see the color of her eyes. Never before had a woman affected him so. A woman who could take away all of his common sense. She did. He just wanted to touch.

  She didn’t say anything else as she placed his food in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as her breasts pushed against her shirt as she maneuvered. When the food had been placed down on the table she backed off and Gavin wanted to grab a hold of her. Keep her next to him, bury his nose in her hair and see if it also smelled like lilacs, not to mention the rest of her. Emotions so intense rocked his body he couldn’t even begin to understand. His body had hardened and was ready to slip between her firm brown thighs and take her to ecstasy, if only she would let him. He kept his heated gaze down so no one else in the room could see how he felt.

  She quickly and silently put the last order down in front of the last man. When she was done, David, the man she stood beside, spoke, “Thanks, honey. Looks like you found yourself a good paying job. At least it will keep you off the street from that other stuff your kind does.” Then he snickered as if his words were funny. The rest of the room, except for Gavin, laughed along with him.

  Gavin looked at the woman, completely embarrassed for what his colleague had said. A muscle ticked in her jaw but other than
that she gave no indication she had been bothered by his words. She stood straight and walked out of the room as quietly as she arrived.

  * * * *

  Back at the restaurant Sanura let loose her anger. She began dropping things and muttering to herself as her hat sailed to land in the dirty linen bin by the back door. “Bloody overpaid, useless white men. Assuming that I need this or else I would be selling my body on the street.”

  “How did it go, Mac?” The question came with clear and soft words.

  “They are a bunch of rude, obnoxious men. One of them had the damn nerve to suggest that I would be on the street if not for my delivery job,” Sanura “Mac” Eryn McKie answered the question.

  A delighted round of laughter escaped the other person, which only served to earn her a glare from the still fuming Sanura. “Delivery job? Well, you know, you are a dangerous felon. Is the guy still breathing?”

  Allison Drover, best friend extraordinaire, stood there in the doorway. She was not what one would think of when looking at Sanura for a best friend. The girls were unquestionable opposites. Sanura had dark hair, green eyes and a smooth and healthy nut-brown complexion with exotic features like her high cheekbones, thick eyelashes and full lips. Allison had a head full of pale blond hair, blue eyes and her skin was pearly white. Both girls were relatively the same height and weight, but that fulfilled their only similarities. Allison came across as the soft one and Sanura had the edge to her. They were tight. You couldn’t drive a hair between them.