Authors: Allison Hobbs
PUT A RING ON IT
What can I say about Allison Hobbs other than she is phenomenal? There are very few writers that I can say that I actually admire. Allison is on the top of that list. She is a powerhouse of a writer and she keeps churning out one masterpiece after another; year after year. It is always my pleasure to personally edit her books the second they are turned in.
Put a Ring on It
continues to excite and entice my literary palate.
Lately, there has been much emphasis placed on women seeking that diamond ring; to be validated by marriage. Books, songs, movies, you name it; the controversy has exploded. Now the three women in
Put a Ring on It
: Vangie, Harlow, and Nivea, scramble to see who can make it to the altar first. But making it down the actual aisle is the least of their problems as they have to contend with baby’s fathers who make disappearing acts, fiancés who get tied up with blood diamonds, and a younger sister’s love interest who would rather have sex with his sister-in-law to be. Scandal, drama, lust, surprises and shockers. All the signature elements of an Allison Hobbs novel are contained herein.
Allison’s next book is right behind this one; titled
What a sexy title! Make sure to check it out this fall. Also make sure that you join Allison on Wednesday nights as she conducts her weekly chat at 10 PM EST on PlanetZane.org. The topics are always sensual and on point.
As always, thanks for supporting myself and the Strebor Books family. We strive to bring you cutting-edge literature that cannot be found anyplace else. For more information on our titles, please visit Zanestore.com. My personal web site is Eroticanoir.com and my online social network is PlanetZane.org.
Big Juicy Lips
A Bona Fide Gold Digger
Dangerously in Love
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2011 by Allison Hobbs
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.
ISBN 978-1-4516-1803-7 (ebook)
First Strebor Books trade paperback edition July 2011
Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Marion Designs
1 0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Manufactured in the United States of America
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I love everything about you: your big beautiful smile,
the sound of your laughter, your braids, and even
your obsession with wrestling.
No one else in the world could make me
sit still and watch wrestling matches.
But I do it for you!
To my friend Daaimah S. Poole, thank you for eight years of friendship. The support you’ve given me is deeply appreciated.
Cairo, you are so sexy and smart. I call you the male version of Zane. So glad you’re in my life. I cherish our friendship.
Nakea Murray, thanks for running all over New York with me. I couldn’t have navigated the Big Apple without you. The Hudson was so magical! We have to run around Fifty-Eighth Street in our PJ’s one more time!
Jason Frost, my fellow Sagittarian, premier book reviewer, and also my dear friend.
Keith Saunders, this cover takes my breath away. Thank you.
To my publicist at Simon & Schuster, Yona Deshommes, I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me. But I won’t get mushy because I know it irks you. LOL
Charmaine Parker, I miss you! Thank God I’m going to see you in Jamaica!
Zane, I usually don’t give a darn what anyone says or thinks about me…but when it comes to you…I CARE! Thank you for that matrix-like turnaround with the manuscript. You’re incredible!
Karen Dempsey Hammond, thank you for helping me with numerous cover concepts, book titles, and for helping when I’ve written myself into a corner. You’ve been by my side throughout my literary journey and years before it ever started. No matter how hard I try, I could never repay you for all you’ve done for me.
all it a woman’s intuition. Call it a sixth sense, but instead of driving home after work, Nivea felt an urge to swing by her fiancé’s old apartment.
When she rolled up in front of the building where Eric used to live, she gave the place a smug look. Eric’s former apartment building was a dump. She had no idea why he’d been so resistant to the idea of moving into her upscale townhouse.
But that was water over the bridge. She had introduced Eric to a better lifestyle and she was proud of that fact.
Nivea did a double take when she noticed the Highlander parked at the curb. Her heart rate began to accelerate when she recognized Eric’s license plate.
What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to be working overtime.
With the motor running, she jumped out of her Mazda and removed a couple of lawn chairs that were holding someone’s nicely shoveled parking spot. Brows joined together in bafflement, she parallel parked, cut the engine, and then got out.
Nivea peered up at the second floor apartment that Eric had left six months ago when he’d moved in with her. She could see the twinkling colored lights that adorned a Christmas tree. She frowned at the Christmas tree. It was the first day of December, too soon to put up a tree in Nivea’s opinion.
Eric had sublet the place to one of his unmarried friends.
She couldn’t remember. Feeling a rush of uncomfortable heat, she unbuttoned her wool coat, allowing the frigid evening air to cool her.
There had to be a good explanation for Eric being here. Something really innocent.
He didn’t have to work overtime after all, and decided to stop by and visit his buddy,
she told herself.
Even though moving into Nivea’s townhouse was a step up for Eric, it had been hard convincing him to give up his crappy bachelor’s pad. She was so elated when she’d gotten him to agree to move in, that she hadn’t bothered to question him about the details of his rental transaction.
But she was concerned now.
Carefully, Nivea climbed the icy concrete steps that led to the front door. Inside the vestibule area, another door, this one locked, prevented her from forcing her way to Eric’s old apartment. She read the name that was centered above the doorbell of apartment number two: D. Alston.