He only offered silence and smooth turns. But somewhere between late-night pickups and quiet glances in the rearview, a young woman with big dreams finds herself falling for the last man anyone would expect.

I watched him as he walk furiously towards me "wah dat yah fucking wear likkle girl" he ask shaply but mi nuh fraid a no bowy we not even deh bright "Who yuh think yah talk to suh betta yuh mo--" before i finshed he grabbed me by my neck and pinned me against the wall "Wah mi tell yuh bout dah attitude deh?" He asked. And grip my throat tighter tears started to gather in my eyes "Go Su--suck yuh mada." I respond. I try to break from his grip but unsuccesful. He then push me on the bed and placed my hands behind my back. He put his mouth near my ear and whispered "Say bet mi fuck u in a dis" "Bet" . . . Your star☆ 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 ▫️ ▫️ ▫️ ▫️ ▫️ Chris next in line after is father 'Oshane' to be the Don he decide to celebrate by going on a family trip at the 'Moon Palace Hotel' in Ocho Rios Jamaica. Little did he know he's going to meet his bae/wifey 'Tanya'.

"Move from in front a mi," I say. But it comes out softer. Weaker. More honest than I intended. I'd be on the first plane out of here tomorrow. Nothing that we've said in the past twenty minutes would matter once I am on that plane. We are tied to each other, and our pasts don't have to intertwine any more than they already have. He doesn't move. I step sideways. He mirrors me, like he's tethered to the same gravity. "Kymani-" "Selah" My name in his mouth feels like a dare. A part of me wants it to feel like a promise. I shake the thought. After what feels like a standoff written in the marrow between us, he finally exhales and steps back. Barely. But enough. I don't waste it. I slip from his hold, my heartbeat pounding in my throat, in my ears, in the soles of my feet as I bolt toward the door. I leave him there. Leave the house. Leave the heat still burning between us. And I run. Fast, desperate, the same way I did the first time I left this place. The same way I survived. I don't look back. Not at him. Not at the house. Not at the version of myself that's still trembling inside those walls. Not anymore.

I was so out of it that I didn't even notice when the stoplight switched from yellow to red. Struggling to act on my fight or flight, I have no choice but to run straight into the car in front of me. Oh fuck. Just one of those fucking days... Thankfully, the impact isn't fatal, but it's far from pretty. I exit my vehicle, ensuring to put my car in park before hopping out, the person from the car in front jumps out at the same time. A tall man begins to storm towards me, his brows furrowed as he takes long strides in my direction. Boy look cute and neat eesi... Why did we have to meet like this? "A buy yuh buy yuh license?" he screams at me with rage. Well, that's not nice. Tek back everything me just seh. "It was clearly an accident, mi did distracted" I tell him, trying to defend myself. Mi shame. The road is active around us, drivers are blowing their horns or peeping their heads through their windows to take in the scene. "Distracted? Aye lady, a who teach yuh fi drive?" he asks, a humorous yet frustrated smirk on his lips. Clearly a blind man.

"Ye mon. Not even air itself cah come between we. Memba dat." ********************* Karissa Kizeah Thomas' life changed at the age of 16 years old when her grandmother passed away from cancer, leaving her to fend for herself. She pursued a career as a stripper to make ends meet but faced difficulties due to unfair treatment at the club and not making enough money. She then meets Kairon Javel McNabb, a 26-year-old self-made billionaire who owns multiple car dealerships. What are dramas that may arise between the two due to their vastly different backgrounds, with Karissa being a stripper and Kairon being a wealthy businessman?💸🤸🏽‍♀️ Find out more in Dangerously Attached. •Contains mature language / sexual content• 🎖️HIGHEST RANKING: #3 in Attached #1 in Jamaica #1 in Jamaican #1 in Jamaican Writer #2 in New Author #1 in Patois (Please note that this is the first book i've written and published on wattpad so if you have any feedback, please leave positive ones in the comment sections provided.)

"Sir why are you always so interested in what I'm doing...Dont you have other students to tend to?" Wynter asked as she clinged to the books in her hands, Mr. Raines chuckled as his eyes scanned his favorite student. It was never his plan to fall for her. In fact he had no intention of falling for any woman anytime soon; due to him having his fair share of them all. In other words he didn't want anything that he would have to commit to, right now that is... Somehow as soon as Wynter stepped into his classroom she changed his mind by just a simple gesture. How could I fold so easily? he thought... "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." He thinks out loud with a smirk on his face. Wynter furrows her brows in confusion as she listens to the words that sound like a foreign language to her ears. She tilts her head looking at him, thats when he chuckles, and says, " Find out what that means by the next class, then yuh nah guh be suh confused." For awhile she was silent, as her eyes scanned him, then she replied, "Yes Mr Raines." ---------------------- A Jamaican love tale about a lecturer falling for his student... Read to find out how it will all unfold. 🇯🇲🇯🇲🇯🇲🇯🇲 ♡︎ The gifted collection ♡︎

Honey, a 19-year-old survivor of unimaginable abuse, escapes her Palm Beach household with stolen cash from her father, seeking refuge in her ancestral homeland, Jamaica. Though free, the emotional wounds she carries run deep. In Jamaica, Honey's path collides with Zavire, aka 'Silas' or 'Trigga', a powerful figure with a legacy of underground businesses. Drawn to his enigmatic world, Honey becomes entangled in his operations. Silas, captivated by Honey's innocence, is torn between his desire to corrupt and protect her. As they navigate their combustible attraction, secrets and lies threaten to destroy their bond. Will Honey and Silas overcome their troubled pasts and forge a future together, or will their secrets tear them apart? Redo and remove the tattoo

❝Baby I don't need a man, I need Dinero & a tan!❞-Taj Romaé *** "...if yuh nuh name Dinero den mi nuh want yuh,"I say sassily. He chuckles. "Den how you a pree me so?" his husky voice ask as he makes slow strides towards me. "You're in my personal space," I snap and he seems to be impressed by my attitude. I feel my knees weaken as he approaches me with lustful eyes. Then he leans down closing me in as he rest both hands beside me. His hot breath tickles the side of my neck as he whispers, "Nuttn' nuh wrong if we get personal b." *** Get ready for this heated romance, I'm ready. Are you? #1 Caribbean #1 Boujie #1 Youngwitersprize #1 Materialism #1 newwriter #1 jamaicanwriter #1 Fancy #2 Jamaica

"Babes if mi tell yuh half a the things dem weh mi guh through inna life, would you still love me?" He asked looking me dead in the eyes. Idk.

Melia, a introverted pre-med student who is struggling to cope with her mother's death and the fact that her father quickly remarried. Feeling replaced and neglected, Melia struggles to connect with her distant father who put's his wife and stepchildren first. Damion, the football star, who's hiding his own scars- he is struggling to cope with his parents' bitter divorce and his father's newfound absence. When Melia is blackmailed into tutoring Damon, they form an unlikely bond over their shared pain. As they work together, they find solace in each other's company and begin to confront their dark pasts. Despite their differences, they develop a forbidden attraction that leads to a dark and passionate romance that threatens to consume them both. Melia finds herself drawn to his dangerous edge, even as she fears the consequences of loving him. Meanwhile, Damion must confront his demons and prove to Melia that he's more than just a bad boy reputation. Will they find a way to heal each other's wounds, or will their love become another casualty of their troubled lives?