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Secrets Unveil Sample Reading

Updated: Jun 11


Hi, reading fam! I am bringing to you a sneak peek of Secrets Unveil coming in January 2022. It is Book 1 of The Secrets Series, and I am excited to share this with you.

I look forward to hearing what you think. Enjoy, and tell me what you think in the comments.



Chapter 1


Trent froze in his tracks and dropped his phone. What he feared would happen is now happening.

"Paris, call my folks and tell them to come down to the precinct. I love you." Trent told her, not taking his eyes off the policemen.

"Trent, I love you! I love you! You know I will!" Paris wailed. Tears fell madly down as she watched the officers grab him by the shoulders to escort him to their squad car.

All because of her.

It's all because of Paris why Trent was being taken away like a common criminal. She didn't take their love seriously as he did, and now they both have to pay the price in some kind of way.

"Don't cry. They have nothing on me. Dry your eyes and do what I asked." Trent kissed her lips before being taken away. He looked back to see her falling to her knees, crying while her mother tried to console her.

Be strong, my love. This is not the end. I'm not going to leave you and Junior. I love you both.

* * *

January 2018

Trent Devereaux stared at his reflection in the golden oval-shaped mirror and saw the grave look of a guy on another mission. Though, this one has nothing to do with putting together a plan execution-style. No, it has something to do with a particular someone who pulled at the strings of his heart two weeks ago at a club called Crystal Dance Hall. The club is on the outskirts of Columbia in South Carolina, where Trent had never known of the club's existence. It wasn't his type of scene anyway, but someone requested him to be there.

Trent epitomized the fantasy for most women and some- a reality. For others, including men, a living nightmare. He has no qualms about this nor the willingness to change the hearts of those who refused to see the positive attributes he possessed.

He doesn't give a shit about that. He simply wanted to live his life and do what he needed to do in this ever-changing world in which he lives.

This woman named Paris Thompson, his newfound interest in her, had struck Trent like a match and lit him up. It had come out of nowhere, leaving him unprepared for it. Yet, it was magnetizing and would leave him feeling breathless. The intense energy he felt still had him in a state of bewilderment and enchantment. It made him think about her all the time, which also followed well into his dreams. He did not understand why just one look could cause him so many emotions he had never felt before.

Still, it is not his or Paris' fault he detects what he has been feeling since that fateful night. What kind of magical, mysterious entity is going on here? Why would he develop feelings for someone he barely knows? And so quickly? Nevertheless, he's going to make it his business to become very acquainted with her.

She is a woman who made his heart swell before his large manhood, and that was saying a lot. It takes much work and time to penetrate his soul and heart. Still, he never felt such a burning sensation in his chest that had nothing to do with acid reflux but something undeniably desirable. Something more than just lust.

All he knew is this attraction—well, connection—is something on the spiritual level. With his spiritual and supernatural experiences and knowledge, he is now more aware of what is happening. He is unsure why and the best way to go about it since this is new to him. He couldn't ignore what he was feeling. Could Paris be his soul mate or twin flame? Could that be the reason why he can't stop this sweet mental and emotional torture inflicted on him?

It didn't help Paris has been with his best friend, Sean Bronson, for nearly three months now. But Trent doesn't believe it's anything serious. Sean doesn't even talk about her much. And, he hasn't brought her to meet the family or him. They most likely are just hanging out doing what he hopes "friends" of the opposite sex do, Trent believes.

Trent stood tall as a demigod at six feet five inches with dreadlocks handing down the length of his muscular back. He has this stance where a person is unsure whether to hang back from him or proceed with caution.

For the women, many of them will hurl themselves at him shamelessly. While others have remained respectful, just in case he has a woman. For a Jamaican guy who has this bossed-up, panty-soaker swagger who knows he looks damn good but doesn't let it go to his head, Trent always remained true to himself.

He expelled a long sigh, letting his head drop to his thick, broad chest. A long silver chained necklace rested upon his chest while droplets of water from his shower were drying up. More thoughts of Paris evaded his thinking space once again. He was unsure how she would feel about this with them; they only briefly met by friends leaving no room to become acquainted. It happened so fast he barely remembers what happened. The muscle in his jaw twitched as an uncomfortable image popped up in his mind that took the place of a beautiful one he wanted to focus on more.

He shook his head and turned away from the mirror while removing a white terry cloth towel from around his waist and strode into his massive walk-in closet. His green eyes surveyed the many blacks, gray, and white clothing he owned. Two levels of clothing with shirts and sweaters hung on one side of the wall, while pants in the coordination of fabrics and colors adjacent on the other side. Jackets and coats hung in variations of style on another part of the closet.

In drawers made of cherry wood, there were socks, underwear, belts, and other accessories. His fingers rummaged through the items. After selecting, he chose a pair of black designer jeans to put on top of red Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Next, he threw on a black crew-neck long-sleeved shirt with Japanese symbols on the front and a skater boy logo on one of the sleeves, on top of a white T-shirt.

While passing a seven-foot mirror at the west end of the closet, Trent placed a silver stud earring in his right lobe. Then he fastened a silver chain bracelet on his left wrist along with a Rolex watch and then tucked in the necklace.

After he finished the rest of his morning routine, he grabbed a protein shake and a banana on his way out the front door. He got into his Mazda A8 with determination on his mind, flooring the car onto the freeway heading to his destination.


Trent froze in his tracks and dropped his phone. What he feared would happen is now happening.

"Paris, call my folks and tell them to come down to the precinct. I love you." Trent told her, not taking his eyes off the policemen.

"Trent, I love you! I love you! You know I will!" Paris wailed. Tears fell madly down as she watched the officers grab him by the shoulders to escort him to their squad car.

All because of her.

It's all because of Paris why Trent was being taken away like a common criminal. She didn't take their love seriously as he did, and now they both have to pay the price in some kind of way.

"Don't cry. They have nothing on me. Dry your eyes and do what I asked." Trent kissed her lips before being taken away. He looked back to see her falling to her knees, crying while her mother tried to console her.

Be strong, my love. This is not the end. I'm not going to leave you and Junior. I love you both.

* * *

January 2018

Trent Devereaux stared at his reflection in the golden oval-shaped mirror and saw the grave look of a guy on another mission. Though, this one has nothing to do with putting together a plan execution-style. No, it has something to do with a particular someone who pulled at the strings of his heart two weeks ago at a club called Crystal Dance Hall. The club is on the outskirts of Columbia in South Carolina, where Trent had never known of the club's existence. It wasn't his type of scene anyway, but someone requested him to be there.

Trent epitomized the fantasy for most women and some- a reality. For others, including men, a living nightmare. He has no qualms about this nor the willingness to change the hearts of those who refused to see the positive attributes he possessed.

He doesn't give a shit about that. He simply wanted to live his life and do what he needed to do in this ever-changing world in which he lives.

This woman named Paris Thompson, his newfound interest in her, had struck Trent like a match and lit him up. It had come out of nowhere, leaving him unprepared for it. Yet, it was magnetizing and would leave him feeling breathless. The intense energy he felt still had him in a state of bewilderment and enchantment. It made him think about her all the time, which also followed well into his dreams. He did not understand why just one look could cause him so many emotions he had never felt before.

Still, it is not his or Paris' fault he detects what he has been feeling since that fateful night. What kind of magical, mysterious entity is going on here? Why would he develop feelings for someone he barely knows? And so quickly? Nevertheless, he's going to make it his business to become very acquainted with her.

She is a woman who made his heart swell before his large manhood, and that was saying a lot. It takes much work and time to penetrate his soul and heart. Still, he never felt such a burning sensation in his chest that had nothing to do with acid reflux but something undeniably desirable. Something more than just lust.

All he knew is this attraction—well, connection—is something on the spiritual level. With his spiritual and supernatural experiences and knowledge, he is now more aware of what is happening. He is unsure why and the best way to go about it since this is new to him. He couldn't ignore what he was feeling. Could Paris be his soul mate or twin flame? Could that be the reason why he can't stop this sweet mental and emotional torture inflicted on him?

It didn't help Paris has been with his best friend, Sean Bronson, for nearly three months now. But Trent doesn't believe it's anything serious. Sean doesn't even talk about her much. And, he hasn't brought her to meet the family or him. They most likely are just hanging out doing what he hopes "friends" of the opposite sex do, Trent believes.

Trent stood tall as a demigod at six feet five inches with dreadlocks handing down the length of his muscular back. He has this stance where a person is unsure whether to hang back from him or proceed with caution.

For the women, many of them will hurl themselves at him shamelessly. While others have remained respectful, just in case he has a woman. For a Jamaican guy who has this bossed-up, panty-soaker swagger who knows he looks damn good but doesn't let it go to his head, Trent always remained true to himself.

He expelled a long sigh, letting his head drop to his thick, broad chest. A long silver chained necklace rested upon his chest while droplets of water from his shower were drying up. More thoughts of Paris evaded his thinking space once again. He was unsure how she would feel about this with them; they only briefly met by friends leaving no room to become acquainted. It happened so fast he barely remembers what happened. The muscle in his jaw twitched as an uncomfortable image popped up in his mind that took the place of a beautiful one he wanted to focus on more.

He shook his head and turned away from the mirror while removing a white terry cloth towel from around his waist and strode into his massive walk-in closet. His green eyes surveyed the many blacks, gray, and white clothing he owned. Two levels of clothing with shirts and sweaters hung on one side of the wall, while pants in the coordination of fabrics and colors adjacent on the other side. Jackets and coats hung in variations of style on another part of the closet.

In drawers made of cherry wood, there were socks, underwear, belts, and other accessories. His fingers rummaged through the items. After selecting, he chose a pair of black designer jeans to put on top of red Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Next, he threw on a black crew-neck long-sleeved shirt with Japanese symbols on the front and a skater boy logo on one of the sleeves, on top of a white T-shirt.

While passing a seven-foot mirror at the west end of the closet, Trent placed a silver stud earring in his right lobe. Then he fastened a silver chain bracelet on his left wrist along with a Rolex watch and then tucked in the necklace.

After he finished the rest of his morning routine, he grabbed a protein shake and a banana on his way out the front door. He got into his Mazda A8 with determination on his mind, flooring the car onto the freeway heading to his destination.



Desperate times call for desperate measures. Trent doesn't care what it looks like or what it's called. He mostly does things only he can understand, though, this time, Trent has no clue what he's doing. Or why.


He sat back in his seat, stroking his bottom lip as his eyes cast a faraway look as he watched her cross the grassy walkway in long, hasty strides. He slowly swayed his head to the raspy sounds of the song, Redbone by Childish Gambino, which has an old-school flow.


As he sang along to the tune, he heard a buzzing noise in his head that sounded like voices of sorts. Trent may act crazy, but he knows he's not. He can't decipher what the voices were saying, but they have been quiet for some time now and started back when Paris came into his life. The spot between his thick eyebrows began vibrating. He rubbed the area, still gazing out, ignoring a call from his cell phone.


For the last five days, he sat in his car like a certifiable stalker. Trent watched her with unease as Paris hurriedly exited from a Toyota Escape. She made a mad dash to the Science building, determined not to be tardy.


Every morning this week, it was the same routine. Trent would arrive at the State University's Science building fifteen minutes early to catch a glimpse of her, even for only a few minutes. If someone had told him he had an obsession, he would call them a liar and continue activities he denied are obsessive.


Today she wore blue jeans and brown boots with her hairstyle in medium-size box braids. A blue and white heavy coat completed her look. Trent picked up his iPhone in an attempt to take a picture of Paris, but she was now gone.


Paris. She is a shy female who barely uttered a word when he had watched her from where he sat at the club; then again, he hadn't said much either.


"I got to find a way to get closer to her. I can't shake the way I feel about her," he said aloud.

Trent slowly pulled away from the curb. He ignored the females trying to flirt with him, wearing short sweater dresses unsuitable for the freezing January weather. He shook his head in disbelief and looked back to the door Paris disappeared into, the girl whose attention he wanted to capture.


After finishing his classes today, he sped down the I-20 bypass to beat the traffic jam and head to the garage where he works as a customer service rep. The garage is co-owned by Clifton Bronson, along with a guy named Thom.


As usual, Bronson Auto Services stayed packed. Lines of cars from BMWs to Toyotas are parked in the medium-size parking lot that resembled a small dealership. The Bronsons served all those in need of their services, no matter their financial circumstances. Their expertise and performance resulted in stellar ratings in the guidebooks, ranking them number one among all the small companies in Columbia. They have received two consecutive awards since they came to Jamaica two years ago.


"Whaddup, Trent? How it do? I see business is booming," a man with a guttural voice called out to him. He dragged his left foot behind him as he got closer. He wore a camouflage jacket over a tan shirt with the letters ARMY spelled out on the front. His clothing would have been a decent look until Trent did a double-take and noticed the forty-ish guy was wearing tight orange pants that looked like he was wearing leggings.


Trent's head jerked back a little; he swallowed hard to keep his comment to himself and replied, "Hi Grady. I'm good, thanks. Yeah, business is definitely doing well." Trent stopped to turn back to the garage and back to the older guy, ignoring his pants.


"What you been up to? Staying out of trouble?" He gave him a look that dared the guy to lie to him. Grady has a problem getting into trouble his butt can't get out of. He has been an Army veteran for three years now and had spent his life in the streets, living where he could until he met Thom. Even though Thom and Trent do what they can for him, old habits are hard to die for the guy. He can't, for the life of him, stay out of the streets.


It was already a damn shame how soldiers fight in a war, and most of them get mistreated when they come back to their own country. And some come back are physically and mentally disabled. Yet, most times, the government does virtually nothing for them except provide a meager cash incentive that barely pays the bills and any other needs they may have. Even worse when some of them have no relatives or friends to be there for them to help. Sadly, some of these soldiers are left homeless, which is what happened to Grady. Things like this have really pissed Trent off. He kept watching the man, feeling his anxiety climbing.