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    Trapped With The Ex-Con
    Trapped With The Ex-Con
    Trapped With The Ex-Con
    Ebook91 pages1 hour

    Trapped With The Ex-Con

    By Garnell Wallace

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    About this ebook

    Tibi

    After ending a five-year relationship, two weeks in a quaint cabin in Key West while the Florida sun dried my tears, was just what I needed. However, my oasis was soon invaded by a man with dark secrets in his eyes expecting his sister, and not some strange woman in his childhood home. A summer storm and flooded roads meant neither of us could leave. We had to make the best of it, and what was the worst that could happen in a few days trapped in a cabin with a mysterious and gorgeous man?

    I had no idea how much my life could change in less than a week.

    Storm

    After spending eighteen years breathing prison air, I was looking forward to the smell of the ocean and spending time with my younger sister, Alice. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at our childhood home just minutes before the rain, to find a dark-skinned beauty instead of Alice. I had no place else to go and no time to get there, so Tibi was stuck with me whether she liked it or not.

    As it turned out, we both liked it a lot, until things took a deadly turn. When my past comes back to haunt me, Tibi was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, and I had to do whatever it took to protect her.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMidnight Books
    Release dateSep 20, 2023
    ISBN9798223300748
    Trapped With The Ex-Con
    Author

    Garnell Wallace

    Growing up, I didn’t dream about being a writer, mainly because I didn’t know I could become one. I fell in love with books to the point where they became my friends, going everywhere with me like a trusted side-kick. So I still find it amazing that I can actually write books which hopefully will become treasured companions to other readers. I love writing sexy paranormal romances and I hope my stories will provide readers with a wonderful escape into a fascinating world with characters they will care about.

    Read more from Garnell Wallace

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      Book preview

      Trapped With The Ex-Con - Garnell Wallace

      Content Warning

      This novella includes off-page references to familial sexual and physical abuse and elements of the paranormal.

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      Chapter 1

      Tibi

      Chapter 2

      Tibi

      Chapter 3

      Storm

      Chapter 4

      Tibi

      Chapter 5

      Storm

      Chapter 6

      Tibi

      Chapter 7

      Storm

      Chapter 8

      Tibi

      Chapter 1

      Tibi

      My grandmother died when I was three. When I turned thirty, she contacted me on Facebook.

      Yeah, right.

      Scammers were going to scam. Sadly, too many of them were from African countries, and from people pretending to be some unknown relative or someone who desperately needed my help in getting millions of dollars into a western country. The long-lost grandmother was a very far stretch, so someone needed to freshen up on Scamming 101.

      I rarely had time for the bullshit, and especially not today, Satan. I had a very important presentation in London and shouldn’t even have been on Facebook, but I’d literally gone over my speech a hundred times, and my brain had rebelled. I’d needed a break from thinking about my contribution and views on women’s empowerment in Africa through beauty and business. I was a perfectionist in all areas of my life, especially when I was encouraging people with deep pockets to invest in female-owned businesses in Africa. Between my perfectionism and incredible imposter syndrome, I’d needed some mindless scrolling while I waited in the first-class lounge of Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta International Airport for my eight-hour flight to London, England.

      I’d received scam letters before, and usually, it was delete, block, and keep it moving. Today, I was in the mood for some mindless entertainment. I took a sip of my coffee that I’d made at home, because no over-priced airport beans could come close to my high standards, bolstered my nerves, and then settled in for a good read and laugh.

      My dearest Tibi,

      They’d taken the time to get my name right. That was good.

      This is a letter I never wanted to write, and a letter you will immediately dismiss, unless I can convince you otherwise.

      Your parents kicked me out of your life when you were three and made me promise I’d stay away from you. I have kept that promise.

      You will be the one to come to me.

      When you are ready, when the whispers become so loud you can’t think about anything else, you will remember this day when you scoffed at my words, and you will find me.

      I will be waiting with answers, guidance, and love.

      Even when I made that promise to your parents, I knew it was empty. Our meeting has never been up to me, or anyone in our family. This is bigger than all of us, and the legacy must continue as it has for centuries.

      Let me be the first to tell you that you are an armor bearer, and you come from a long line of women who have accepted this paternal gift with honor and dignity. We are privileged to bear the burdens of the dead, and it is our job to protect them as best we can.

      When I am gone, those burdens will fall upon your shoulders, and you will bear them until your daughter, or granddaughter. This is the way of our ancestors, and no one can change it, not even your parents. They had shielded you for twenty-seven years, and cut all ties with me because I wanted to tell you the truth.

      There was no reason to lie, because they will find you. Perhaps they already have. I suspect the dead have started talking to you, although now they are just scratching at your brain, and you’ve paid little attention to the occasional murmurs.

      The whispers will get louder and scarier until you accept who you are and accept them. When you are ready for the truth, you can reply to this message. Don’t ask your parents because they will lie to you, as they have been doing your whole life.

      I can’t wait to reunite with you, my darling, Tibi. I have so much to teach you and not a lot of time. I’m in Charleston, South Carolina, whenever you are ready. My home is big and welcoming and so is my heart.

      I love you,

      Ama, your paternal grandmother.

      She sent her phone number, and attached to the message were two photos; one of me when I was about three, sitting in the lap of a woman who looked so much like I did now. It was shocking. The second photo was of the same woman with long, thick silver hair, and dark brown eyes filled with wisdom and pain.

      I wasn’t prepared for this. I’d started the letter relaxed and open and ready for a good chuckle. When the tone changed, I hadn’t been able to get my walls up quickly enough, and my eyes couldn’t stop eating up the words even though I knew they would make me sick like bad takeout.

      Oh, this wasn’t a scam, at least not one perpetrated by some weasel behind a computer. The photos gave the letter credibility, and as implausible as it sounded, I believed it, because I’d heard the whispers once, although I’d had no idea what they were until now.

      My Christian beliefs said that anything to do with the dead was strictly forbidden, and here was a woman with my face telling me that communicating with the dead was in my blood, and in my future. I wanted to dismiss the letter, however, I couldn’t ignore the photos, and I couldn’t ignore the whispers.

      Thinking about them sent chills down my spine, and I wrapped my cream jacket tighter around my athletic body. Who the hell had gotten into my head, and did that mean that I was possessed? In my church, we believed in armor bearers, but they were nothing resembling what this woman was talking about. An armor bearer was a biblical reference to a person who carries the spear and shield of a warrior. In the modern church, an armor bearer stood beside a leader and offered physical, mental, and spiritual strength. They had no connection to dead people. I shook my head and closed my Facebook app.

      No, none of this made any sense. I needed to talk to my parents. No, I needed to concentrate on the task at hand. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. There was a perfectly logical explanation for all of this, and I would get to the bottom of it as soon as I returned to Atlanta.

      My phone chimed in my hand, and I groaned when I saw the number. I was seriously tempted to not

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