SXL Story Sampler #2 | Love at First Clash

Hi, lovers,

Welcome to the SXL Story Sampler. Here’s your chance to dip into stories you might’ve missed. Each feature includes a full chapter (or two) from one of my published novels to inspire your next read.

Check out chapter one of Love at First Clash below. ♡

(Copyrighted material)

Before you dive in, please note that this story brings you a mix of arousal, adventure, and unapologetic raunchiness. I invite you to read with an open mind so you can fully experience the passion that unfolds within.

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Poet Blake

Chapter One

“So, everyone just decided to get ice cream at noon on a Monday? What the hell be going on in that weird ass town?” my best friend, Tori, asked.

While waiting in the long, slow-moving line at Young’s Sweets & Treats, I glanced around and smiled politely at the patrons who overheard her.

“You gon’ learn to either stop FaceTiming me when you forgot your AirPods at home or remember to grab them every morning.”

I turned the volume down and said, “Ain’t that the truth.”

“One moment,” she shouted after someone rapped at her door. As she checked herself in the camera, I laughed at her facial expressions. Anytime she puckered her full, always-glossed, dark-tinted lips while gazing into her own eyes, I knew one of her favorite men was at the door.

Tori was in her exploration and dating phase, and for the past few weeks, she’d been having the time of her life. As long as she stayed safe and kept her Ruger close, I supported her wholeheartedly. We were the exception, but people from Florida—especially the men in Miami—had a strange reputation.

“A mid-afternoon dick appointment is kinda crazy, Tor,” I said as she made her way to the front door. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“Keep up, P. I already told you that Mr. Midnight always comes with top-tier hibachi from Zuma’s and good dick. He keeps me fed.”

I laughed and turned my volume down a bit more, ignoring the judgy side-eye from the elderly white woman in front of me. “I’ll be expecting an update in a few hours. You know I have to live my best life through you.”

“That celibate shit is why you’ve been moody for months, but you know I got you on the update. Talk soon. Love you.”

“Love you back,” I said, ending our call, grateful the line moved a little faster after distracting myself with the comedian I deemed my bestie.

I glanced back at the line, unsurprised to see it still growing as people continued streaming in, filling the lobby and surrounding the comfortable seating area. Some had claimed the dark blue furniture, while others stood near the tall, rectangular windows or sat at the teal tables that matched the pastel walls.

No matter how busy it got, I always felt welcomed and at ease in the cozy ambiance. My favorite part was the ever-present aroma of waffle cones, salted caramel, and vanilla drifting through the air.

Scrolling through my Instagram feed, I smiled and rolled my eyes at Tori’s commentary about my celibacy.

She wasn’t wrong; I had been moody. After my last relationship, I’d embraced celibacy with determination and confidence. But sometimes, getting your back blown out did feel like a temporary cure for life’s bullshit.

“Ma’am? Are you ready to order?” a tall, graceful woman asked, pulling my attention away from my phone as I stalled the line.

I couldn’t tell if it was her pregnancy glow or if her brown skin naturally radiated, like the sun had personally kissed it. Either way, she and her aura were luminous.

“Hey, I know you. You’re the high school English teacher who rewards her students with ice cream parties.” She smiled. “And with high-quality ice cream, might I add.”

I nodded and laughed heartily. “That's me. The order should be under Poet Blake,” I said, matching her twinkle.

“Give me one second,” she replied. “My brother should have everything ready for you in the back. Of course, he didn’t give me a heads-up, just put me to work the minute I got here,” she added with a playful rant, then slightly wobbled toward the back. “Zane, where are you?” she called out.

If I had to guess, she was about six or seven months pregnant. The most noticeable thing about her was her growing belly, high and undeniably adorable.

A moment later, she returned wearing the same genuine smile, accompanied by a towering man who resembled her. He casually carried two large insulated bags with their logo, one in each arm, and locked eyes with me almost instantly. Despite sharing the same diamond-shaped faces, button noses, and hooded eyes, his were light brown, while hers were hazel.

“How are you doing, Ms. Blake? I’m happy to carry these to your car for you,” he said, his baritone making me feel… a little tingly inside.

Just a little.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that. You can follow me out front after I pay,” I said, digging through my purse for the credit card I reserved specifically for work purchases.

“I just got off the phone with my mom, and she said your money’s no good here anymore. It’s on us,” he stated, walking from behind the counter with so much quiet conviction in his brawny build that all I could do was apologize to the people behind me for holding up the line, offer his sister one last polite smile, and lead him outside to my SUV..

I hit the key fob to unlock my doors and watched as he opened the trunk, sliding the bags inside and positioning them between a few others so they’d stay put during my commute.

“Please tell Mrs. Young she didn’t have to cover my bill. I support the business because I genuinely love what y’all are building here, and how you’re always giving back to the community. I’d honestly feel better if I kept paying like I have for the past six months.”

“That’s kind, and I’m sure my mom will appreciate those words just as much as I do. But if she says your money’s no good here, it’s set in stone. Don’t make this a thing, or she’ll go back and refund the last six months.”

I accepted my defeat. “Maybe I can convince her to let me pay again next month.”

“Doubt it.” He closed my trunk and stepped toward me as I leaned against the back door. “But I think you should know that we see you, too, Ms. Blake. It’s a small town, and word travels fast, especially when you’re an excellent Black educator who’s always making a difference in her students’ lives. Let us support and amplify you right back, aight? Don’t sweat the bill.”

I smiled and nodded, submitting to his kind words and authentic charm. Either the anxiety meds I’d taken an hour ago were starting to kick in, or it was him.

But I knew it was him…

His current influence and the casual, reaffirming way he spoke to me like we’d known each other forever, and how he exuded so much confidence and power in his tall and certain posture.

“I appreciate you all, truly. Thank you,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

Before I could grab it, Zane stepped in and opened it for me. I moved aside, letting him take the lead.

“Nah, thank you. I thought I was gonna have to hit my moms with more bad news today. I already had to tell her about the new Yelp reviews complaining about her attitude.”

“Wait a minute. There must be some mistake or confusion. I’ve never seen Mrs. Young with an attitude. She’s always sunshine and rainbows,” I said, nervously running a hand down the back of my pants before sliding into the car.

Lately, all my stress eating had gone straight to my ass, and I was genuinely afraid my jeans might split with any sudden move.

“Yeah, I thought they were confused too. But they all can’t be lying,” he joked, serious-faced and showcasing his beautiful smile as he leaned against the door.

“Well, it does take a village to raise our parents these days.” I laughed, though I meant every word.

My big sister and I religiously checked on our fifty-year-old retired parents, who lived in New Smyrna Beach with their two hyperactive poodles. They acted like they were thirty, with fat bank accounts and no kids. If we didn’t keep them in line, they’d be off in another country with no cell service and zero intention of checking in.

“And honestly, it’s possible they had her fucked up,” I added, rolling down my window as he chuckled and gently closed me inside.

“That’s a possibility. It’s my job to look into what happened and protect our reputation, so I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’d appreciate that. You must’ve picked up on how nosy I am.”

Zane leaned down, his warm chuckle drifting between us as his gaze swept over my face before locking onto mine. “Or I’m looking for a reason to talk to you again. Permission to use the number in our system.”

“Permission granted.” I shrugged like it was nothing, but inside, I panicked. It’d been almost four years since I’d entertained or given a man my number. I’d been so focused on becoming the best version of myself that I could’ve delivered a successful TED Talk on how to master tunnel vision after surviving an emotionally traumatizing relationship.

He smirked and gave my hood a gentle tap. “Talk soon, Ms. Blake.”

“Later,” I replied sweetly, forcing myself to focus on shifting into reverse and easing out of the parking lot, rather than watching him head back toward the white and mint green building. Outside of the slight bowlegs I was a known sucker for, he walked like he carried something heavy between his legs; I couldn’t help but notice.

Slowly backing out of the tight parking space, I tossed my self-control out the window and stole another helpless glance at Zane. He held open the shop’s framed glass door, stepping aside to let two older women walk in, and looking like the perfect gentleman while doing it.

I gasped as I finally tore my gaze from him and looked at the backup camera. Too late, I slammed on the brakes, but the damage was already done.

My head snapped back, slamming against the seat as my tires screeched and a numbing boom stole the breath from my lungs.

“Fuck,” I whispered, heart pounding, too scared to look at what I’d done.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a beat, but when they finally popped open, they landed on the rearview mirror. There it was. A blue Escalade towered behind me, sitting high on colossal rims that looked more like chrome furniture than wheels.

“Fuck,” I repeated, dread thick in my throat. Whoever owned that Escalade considered it their pride and joy—the dark tints, candy paint, and gold chrome rims made that obvious.

“You just said fuck my bumper, huh?” Zane’s deep, unmistakable baritone was suddenly behind me, and I almost shitted myself.

“I—Is that your—”

“Are you good?” he asked, opening my door and giving me a once-over. He placed two fingers under my chin, gently turning my head to inspect me.

“I’m okay,” I managed, shaking off my shock and rising embarrassment before stepping out of the car. “I am so sorry. I don’t know how I—”

“Thank you for that,” he said, nodding toward the scratched paint on his bumper. “Gave me the perfect excuse to take a day off and finally schedule that new wrap I’ve been wanting.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I insisted, recognizing that he was only trying to make me feel better.

His concerned gaze flicked over me again, then shifted to the nosy onlookers shuffling in and out of the lot. With a subtle wave and a polite smile, he acknowledged them, unfazed.

Meanwhile, I was mortified. At this rate, traffic was going to get backed up from people breaking their necks to gawk at my stupid mistake.

“It’s just chipped paint. No dents. We’re good.”

“But I—”

“Poet.” He cut in gently, his deep voice calm but firm. “I’m telling you we’re good. But what do you need right now to feel better? What works for you?”

Anything he’d said after letting my name roll off his tongue was a blur. The sound of his baritone wrapping around Poet felt like a wave of bliss washing over me, brief but potent. The high didn’t last long, but it left a mark.

“We should exchange insurance information, just in case you change your mind,” I said, trying to sound composed.

“I won’t. But yeah, let’s do that.”

Zane looked strangely satisfied, as if my backing into his car had somehow made his day. I was pretty sure I looked exactly how I felt: embarrassed and dumb as hell.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, started a new text thread, and handed it to him. He entered his number without hesitation and passed it back.

“But seriously,” I added, “even if you don’t want the hassle of dealing with insurance, I’m willing to pay—”

A loud chirp startled me. I squinted, confused, as Zane pulled a walkie-talkie from his pocket.

“Zane, what’s going on out there? Get your ass back in here before these picky, old people drive me crazy,” his sister’s sharp whisper came crackled through, loud and clear.

“Ten-four,” he replied, pressing the button without breaking eye contact. Stashing the walkie-talkie back into his pocket, he added, “Not to cut you off, beautiful, but can we finish our ‘lil debate later?”

I ran my fingers through my curls, dangerously close to squeezing my thighs together as our gazes intensified.

“This is not a debate, Zane. This is me doing the right thing,” I countered, hand on my hip.

His smile stretched wide, revealing a full set of beautiful teeth. They were so perfect I briefly questioned if they were fake, but they didn’t have the oversized chiclet veneer look most people rocked. If they were manufactured, his cosmetic dentist was goated.

“Focus Poet,” I recited inwardly.

“And I fuck with that.” His smile remained as he stepped back, gradually creating space between us—space my body instantly protested.

I wanted this stranger to stay close, and I wasn’t sure if that made me pathetic… or just human.

“Tell me all about the ice cream party later?” he tossed over his shoulder on his way back into Young’s.

Sliding back into my car, I dipped my head, trying to hide the smile he’d effortlessly pulled out of me. Everything was happening so fast, I half-wondered if I was trapped in one of those wild, random-ass dreams I’d been having for the last few months.

“Maybe after we finish our debate,” I shouted just before he disappeared into the packed ice cream shop.

“Tori’s gonna have a field day with this one,” I murmured, shaking my head as I turned up the volume on Good Form by Nicki Minaj. I pulled off the lot, rushing back to my students before their lunch breaks ended.

#end of sample#

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Enjoyed this chapter and want to know what happens next between Poet x Zane? Their novella is AVAILABLE for your reading pleasure: —> https://amzn.to/42eIVJx.

That’s it for now, lovers. ♡