Official Bookstore of Darrell C. Scott Jr.

"An open gravesite of dead roaches and ants resided in damn near every corner of the room. It reeked of cigarettes and stale cheeseburgers and the AC blew hot air. As much as I love to deny my stuck-up tendencies, at that moment, I was well aware that random sex in a cheap motel was beneath me. 

None of it mattered because Terrence stood before me with his black square-cut tank looking like it was painted on. I loved the way it hugged his chest and complemented his golden skin as it radiated under the dim lights.

​

With one of those strong jawlines you only see in magazines, he formed a sly smile. 

This was the sort of distraction I needed to keep my dark cloud at bay."