A boxed set of The Ghetto Girl Romance Duology, which includes the books Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever and Exit Strategy:
Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever Keisha Beale, a street-wise Chicago south-sider two years out of DePaul University, is a quarter million dollars in start-up capital away from realizing her dream of owning a recording studio/record store. She takes the place of her more business-savvy partner in a meeting with Tristan White himself, the venture capitalist they’ve targeted to fund their business.
A bi-racial–African American and Brazilian–woman with a troubled past, Keisha has been so focused on her business pursuits that her love life has been non-existent. Tristan White is the devastatingly hand some, 32-year old CEO of White Enterprises, the firm he built using only the inheritance his mother left him to prove to his father he had the mettle to do it alone. He comes from a long line of wealth, and lives the life of a “one-percenter” on Chicago’s Gold Coast. Tristan is accustomed to controlling every aspect of his life given his birth into a world of white privilege.
50 Shades To The 2nd Power …
When Keisha and Tristan’s worlds collide, sparks fly, and a fever is ignited in them both that they have never experienced before. It turns out they each have secrets, but together, in the unorthodox arrangement Tristan proposes, they discover passions they never knew they had.
… Meets Keisha From The Block!
The Ghetto Girl title is, in all truthfulness, a misnomer.
Keisha Beale is a highly-educated young woman who just happens to have been born on the other side of the socio-economic tracks. She embraces all of who she is, and navigates almost effortlessly in both worlds.
Erotic, amusing, and in places hilarious, the Ghetto Girl Romance Duology is a parody with a new take on a Fifty Shades type story that will take you even further into the BDSM world, and promises to make the vanilla original Fifty Shades more colorful.
Ex•it Strat•e•gy (noun) 1. A preplanned means of extricating oneself from a situation that is likely to become difficult or unpleasant. 2. The method by which a venture capitalist or business owner intends to get out of an investment that he or she has made in the past.
Will Keisha and Tristan exercise their elaborate EXIT STRATEGY and end their unorthodox arrangement? Assailed by demons she thought she had conquered, Keisha Beale has uttered the words to end her tumultuous relationship with Tristan White. Separated, they grapple for a time with their personal demons. However, when their lives apart become unbearable, a credible threat brings them back together prematurely. As they seek to discover who is responsible for the threats, several seemingly unrelated incidents throw them into a tailspin. Will Keisha’s youthful indiscretions or Tristan’s un-reconciled feelings for a former sub derail their tenuous arrangement? In the meantime, trouble in Nathan and Jada’s paradise send dramatic ripples that hint of future difficulties in the idyllic pairing.
Tristan uses his vast wealth and connections to correct a gross miscarriage of justice, while Keisha makes herself utterly vulnerable to Tristan and fears he has chosen to exercise his own exit strategy.
Will this be the end of the indecent arrangement that became a fairy tale? Or will Keisha and Tristan reveal the trauma from their pasts so they may heal and completely embrace their relationship? Sensual, suspenseful, and still infused with the riotous levity of Triple-G and Fairy Hoochie Mama, the Ghetto Girl Romance Duology departs from full parody with a distinctive take on love, loyalty, sacrifice, redemption, and acceptance.
I wake up alone in Tristan’s bed, fully sated by the telltale ache between my legs but otherwise feeling like Anakin Skywalker. I’ve been lured to the dark side, yet again. The glossy sheen of lust has worn off, and I might just be in a worse situation than I was before. Tristan targeted me with all that romantic charm and cast out his line; I took the bait, and he reeled me in just as sweet as you please.What kind of idiot am I to allow him to woo me into a romantic stupor like that? He showed me an aberration, a glimpse of something I’ll likely never have with him, and I fell like a flimsy house of cards. Yes, I was suckered but good.“Oh God. What have I done?” I mutter.My Fairy Hoochie languishes on her mini chaise with a chicken-shit grin on her face. You got us laid, is what!“Insatiable heifer.”She purses her little lips. Like you didn’t want him yourself.Mini-me has a point. I was practically having Tristan DTs just before he called, I was so damned horny. It didn’t take much pushing on his part to get me back into his bed. I can’t say the same for his role-play room, though. I was afraid to go back in there, because I didn’t want him to get carried away and utter another Javier Beale-ism in the heat of the moment that would throw me into another convulsive anxiety attack.Tristan took me through some rather benign bondage routines and took the punishment deck completely off the table, so I felt fairly comfortable after the first scene. Thank goodness Daddy dearest never tied me up, blindfolded me, or locked me up. Otherwise Tristan—and me by default—would be SOL.My Triple-G is still sleeping like the dead and snoring like she hasn’t slept well in weeks. Poor little fairy. At least she looks happy.I shake off my ambivalence and smile to myself when I see the expression of utter bliss on her tiny face. Last night was perfection. It was a multiple-O night, as most nights are with Tristan White. I am always surprised how just the right amount of pressure executed in such a precise manner can be so lust-inducing. He massaged and patted my derriere until he graduated to a light spanking, and the sight of my ass cheeks all bathed a dusky rose made him so hard I could still feel the sensation of the tip of his manhood hitting my cervix.I hug myself at the intensity of the recollection and then drag my ass out of bed. I tug on the shirt I ripped off Tristan the night before and slide on a clean pair of his boxer briefs. They’re too big, but the elastic waist keeps them from sliding down. I also borrow his shortest robe to cover up because I don’t want to traipse around Mrs. Naven in anything less than proper attire.Barefoot, I go in search of him. I follow the sound of voices. As I’m about to enter the sitting room, I hear him say, “I took your advice.”I stop just at the edge of the open door and listen. I’m not sure why I do. Mama’s always told me “most eavesdroppers wind up wishing they hadn’t.” Her way of saying they invariably hear exactly what they shouldn’t, and I believe I’m about to be the rule and not the exception.“And did you give yourself a little bit of hope in the process?”“Maybe.”“Just so you know, I’ve gone all in with Jada, man. She is the whole package. Everything I’ve always wanted in a woman. Six months to a year, I’m putting a ring on it.”It’s Nathan.“Congratulations?”Nate laughs. “I didn’t stutter when I said that, so you didn’t have to say that like it was a question.”“Sorry. I guess I just don’t see Ms. Jameson as one who’d want to go for the domestic scene so soon.”“Believe me, Jada wants a family of her own. She’s determined to live the dream her folks shattered while she was growing up. She has a strong maternal instinct. She’s just a hard-ass with you because you two are so damn much alike.”I almost laugh out loud on that one. I’d never thought about it, but Nate’s right. Jada is like a female Tristan sometimes.“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. She’s got some strong Domme tendencies, that’s for sure. I like her because she’s such a good friend to Keisha.”“Speaking of Keisha, you can’t tell me you don’t have stronger feelings for her than you’re letting on. You were a mess until she came back. Admit it.”“My condition was a result of overwork.”Denial much, Tristan?“Keep telling yourself that.”“And I’ve been having these fucked-up dreams about Mom.”“Oh, yeah? Want to… talk about them?” Even Nathan sounds tentative.“Like I really want you to psychoanalyze me? No thanks.” Tristan sighs. “Dr. Trammell came by yesterday after… you know.”“Did you tell him about your dreams and talk to him about Keisha?”“Believe me, I had quite enough shit to talk to him about, and stop harping about Keisha, okay?”“She’s the first woman since Aimee to affect you like this. Your heart didn’t stop working, nor did your chance for a normal life die in that accident, but you’re acting like it did.”Who the fuck is Aimee? This is the first I’ve heard of her. Is she a former submissive? Tristan’s last and only real girlfriend? And is she still alive, or did she die in that accident they’re talking about? Oh my God. If she did, no wonder he can’t seem to open himself up to anyone.“It might as well have. Aimee was in pain, and I realized it too late. She loved me.”“In the most destructive way possible, and you’re still letting what happened to her manipulate you into giving up. She hurt herself. That was not your fault.”Oh, so she was just hurt in the accident. Where she is now, and why does Tristan feel like the accident was his fault?“Isn’t that the only way people ever truly love—selfishly and destructively?”“If you think that, you truly are a lost cause.”I second that emotion, Nathan. I mean, geez, why does love have to be such a damned disaster? If Tristan is really incapable of loving anyone, I’m back to square minus one, or some shit. I know I probably should’ve exercised a bit of self-preservation and put the brakes on getting back into this arrangement with him, but I’m already in too deep.He’s been sending me so many mixed signals, though, it’s a miracle I haven’t become romantically dyslexic. I want to keep hope alive as much as the next girl, but seriously! Tristan’s middle name should be delusion because he operates in that state more than he does in any other. And mine is rationalization because I’ve decided that maybe we can still ride this out and let our relationship run its course. Maybe it will be okay.
My Fairy Hoochie Mama boycotts the hell out of me come daylight when she realizes I’m not bluffing about leaving Tristan. She’s carrying her “Down with Keisha” sign, pacing back and forth through my subconscious like we’re back in the sixties and I’ve been violating her civil rights. I know I’m in a whole mess of trouble when my Ghetto Good Girl, or Triple-G, joins her, wearing a more contemporary “Team Tristan” T-shirt.