Friday, 14 September 2018

Sinful Desire- A novel

Chapter 1

Vetty Nwadialor pulled up with a screech behind her office staff bus at Yaba Market garage. Taking a deep breath to quell the excitement bubbling in her stomach, she opened the car door and got down. Her two back doors opened simultaneously, three ladies and a young man alighted and stood beside the car to wait. 
She went to the bus, pulled the door open, stepped aside and watched the occupants alight. Ten of them, seven women and three men; all dressed like her, in a white monogrammed T-shirt over a black trouser.

With a file folder in hand, Vetty waited for her group to assemble. When all their attentions were focused on her, she appraised them for a moment and then raised her voice a notch to carry over the noise and clatters at the garage as she addressed them.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, here we are, the first day of our campaign. Go out there, enter the market, the shops, the stalls, and talk to them, convince them, confuse them, whichever, but get them to open an account with us. The target for today is fifty customers for each person.”

At their gasps, she flashed her winsome smile, revealing gapped white teeth. “Good luck.” She watched them go; she had flagged off the campaign and expected nothing but success as usual.

She turned to those beside her car, opened the file folder and gave each a sheet of white paper with the names of six companies. They studied the names on their papers.

“Any question?”

“Must we go to the whole six companies today, ma?” The question came from one of the females.

She looked at the intelligent and eager faces of her small group of new employees. They would deliver, that she knew, she picked them specifically to penetrate the big companies and talk to the top people.

“If possible, yes, if not, tomorrow is another day. We have one week to comb this area.”

They nodded.

“Remember our agreed time and make sure you are back here, I don’t want to wait for anyone, and...” she looked at them with a firm glint in her eyes. “Concentrate on the job; talk to everyone from the top person to the least, even the cleaners should not be left out.
"Yes, ma."

“Okay, good luck.”

Her broods were out for the chase and she had no doubt, at the end another feather would be added to her success cap. A giddy feeling washed over her and her face glowed with joy.

She opened her car, took her handbag, locked up and instructed the bus driver to take care of both cars. She checked her file, noted the address of the first company on her list, not sure of the location, she enquired from a passerby; satisfied with the direction she left the park with bounce, confident steps.

She loved her work as head of the Marketing Department of Omega bank, Yaba branch, but she itched to get to the head office as the General Marketing Officer, and with this vision in mind, she worked assiduously in her present position.

Full of intelligent and innovative ideas, Vetty devised new methods and plans to increase the bank’s customer base every year. This year’s campaign, she tagged Neighbourhood Awareness, a one-week intensive marketing outreach to organisations, companies, and shops within their vicinity. When she unveiled her plan during a general management meeting, it received an instant approval based on her past performances. Last year alone, the daily contribution, esusu, she introduced for market people and small-scale business owners, yielded financial success to the bank and earned her an award.

At the company's gate, she greeted the security man and stated her mission. He opened the gate and directed her to the lobby.

"Thank you, sir." She switched on her customer's smile. "Even you can open an account with us, sir."

"Haa, madam, I never get enough money feed my family, not to talk of see left over to put for bank." The middle-aged man said with a self-conscious laugh.

“Oga, it is good to save small-small money for tomorrow.”

"I know madam, but where you see the money to save." He shrugged. "I get wife, I get children that go to school, and salary no reach to do anything."

“But you don’t need plenty money to open the account. With five hundred naira, you fit open account with us and be adding small money inside and you fit withdraw all the money anytime you want too.”

“That one good, I think say I go need plenty money to open the account.”

She laughed. “No sir, this one is a special account; we want everybody to save money with our bank.” She opened her file, brought out forms, and gave one to him.

He took it and looked at it. “Okay, ma, make I go through it, then think about it and tell you my mind.”

“I will help you fill the form if you want.”

“Emmm, when you come out.”

She gave him a nod and an acquiescing smile as she left. She walked into the lobby, a young girl sat behind a desk, pressing a phone. "Excuse me."
“Yes, how can I help you?” She dropped the phone faced down on her desk.

“Please, I want to see the Managing Director of the company.”

“Do you have an appointment with him?”

“Not really, my name is Vetty Nwadialor, I’m from Omega Bank, and I’m here to discuss bank formalities with your MD.”

"Our chairman is around and is having a meeting with the MD; maybe you should see the accountant."

“Well, that’s okay.” Vetty smiled at her. “Do you have an account with us?”

“No madam.”

“This is a good opportunity to do so; we are having a special customer account campaign.”

"Thank you, madam, but I already have an account with another bank."

“Of course, I know, but nothing stops you from opening another account, besides, we’re in the same neighbourhood, so you don’t have to go far for your banking services.” She opened her file and gave her a form. “It will only cost you five hundred naira to open an account with us.”

She attended to each person according to their level of income. Of course! She wouldn’t ask the managers to open an account with five hundred naira; this type of account was meant for junior workers and students.

The receptionist took the form, gave it a cursory glance and dropped it on her desk. “I will go through it later.” She pointed forward. “Go straight down this passage to the end, the last door on the right is the accountant’s office.”

“Thanks so much.”

As she turned, the receptionist opened her drawer, dropped the form inside, closed it, picked her phone and resumed her chat on WhatsApp.

Vetty knocked on the door.

“Yes, come in.” A cheerful voice said within.

She opened the door, strode in with a wide smile. “Good morning sir.” She stretched forth her hand.

The accountant, mouth agape, stood up and took the proffered hand. “Good morning madam.” He indicated for her to sit down.

She sat and favoured him with her customer smile. “I’m Vetty Nwadialor, from Omega Bank; it is our Neighbourhood Awareness Campaign week. We want to know our neighbours and tell them of our special bank services.”

“Welcome madam, I'm Mr. Omotayo. But this T-shirt your wearing is good o, I hope I will be given one as part of your awareness services.”

Vetty laughed. “It's for staff and not for customers, except you want to join us in the bank work.”

Mr. Omotayo weaved his hands, face scrunched in horror. “Haaa! No, bank marketing? Count me out, if it is to sit and count money, fine, but to walk the street for customers.” He shook his head sideways. “I don’t have the anointing; I’m not good at convincing people.”
“Tough job, right?
“Yes o, very tough.” He admitted. “And it requires patient too. I don’t have that virtue as well.” He laughed.

“Yes, patient, you're right, people are eccentric, we put up with a lot just to meet up with our targets; we swallow insults and smile through rejections.” She grimaced and Mr. Omotayo smiled in sympathy.

"The banks are wiser now, they send out pretty women to do the marketing. A look at the woman's beautiful face and shapely contour will compel a man to fill the form and bring out his chequebook." He laughed at his own remark.

“We are not out to entice men but to do our job and earn a living.” She knew many men reasoned like him, they felt female marketers were entrapment for them. When she got the job, her husband refused her to take it. According to him, bank marketing was nothing short of prostitution in disguise. It took a lot of convincing before he relented.

To her, everything boarded on ethics and character. Though, to succeed in the job, you have to spread some charms to get customer’s attention and make them listen. But that doesn’t mean you must spread your legs too, except a person with loose moral attitude.

Book Review-Broken


Life is full of challenges. Life is full of happiness. It is like the ocean where everyone swims. It takes much courage to avail the ordeal of the waves of the ocean of life, such wave is like the predicament that one faces in the world. The knot in one’s life requires patience. Perhaps when one is not fortunate to get assistance, patience is the only key to success in life, especially during a difficult time. In such a situation, children and women are always vulnerable, people take advantage of them while looking for a swift solution to their quandary in life. If patience is not applied, another problem may come in and one will not have a choice than to accept the fate, either good or bad. This is why Ngozi Ebubedike, in her novel, encourages youths, especially the vulnerable ones, to remain patient and stay with God during a hard time.

Sometime predicament showers like morning dew in one life, when one is desperate to embark on a life journey without a plan, it will lead to one’s chagrin. ‘Broken,’ a factual novel centres on the life of a character called Calista, who is unfortunate to be borne into a poverty-stricken family. She grows up with her parents in the village whose main occupation is farming, an occupation Calista detest with a passion. Her hatred for farming often results in a misunderstanding between her and her parents. One day, after engaging in a war of words with her mother and hurling insults at her father, the mother throws her belongings out. unrepented she picks her things and leaves her parents’ home in the village and heads to Owerri to begin a new ‘independent’ life. Arriving at the motor park in Owerri, She hangs around doing odd jobs to survive until a seemingly good Samaritan, Sunday rescues her and takes her home to his one-room apartment with a promise to help her.
Sunday’s words shower hope in her life. After living together for a month, Sunday begins to take advantage of her and she perseveres the ordeal because she believes there is no other home for her in Owerri. Besides, Sunday is the one feeding her and people believe she is Sunday’s sister. After a few months, she becomes pregnant but Sunday refuses to be the father of the fetus. Although Calista does not agree initially, she aborts the fetus as advised by Sunday. While in the hospital for the abortion, Sunday has packed all her belongings outside his home and flees. Calista is shocked to see this when she gets home. While blood is still coming from her, as a result of the abortion, she sleeps outside for some days to confirm whether Sunday has fled or truly travelled to see his ailing mother in the village. Although she eventually sees him, after threats and counter threats, he gives her some money to take her to Lagos as she requests.

Getting to Lagos, Calista goes straight to her sister’s house, who does not welcome her because of her past wrong against her and her disobedience to their parents. Eventually, she ends up living on the street doing petty trading as a source of income. This goes on for a while until she is robbed and raped while sleeping under the bridge in the night. While she was being raped, there was no one to rescue her or sympathise with her. She was neglected at the time of ugly incidence because everyone fears the hoodlums. After the incident, the only person that shows her sympathy is Kate, a lady who also lives on the street. Kate then introduces her to prostitution.

Calista takes to prostitution with the intent to raise money and go back to her petty trade. But she becomes hooked and settles into the business of harlotry until she coincidentally meets her primary schoolmate, Chioma. Chioma who does not remember her face or name accepts her claim and listens to the story of her life and takes it upon herself to help her live a better life. After serious efforts by Chioma with the support of her husband, Calista becomes a changed person.

The author performs excellently in term of the use of language in the novel. The novel, ‘Broken,’ is written in a simple language, accessible to a common man on the street. The author uses the language to differentiate the characters, the one who is educated and illiterate. While the educated ones speak English fluently, the uneducated ones speak ‘pidgin' English.

However, the author does not maintain gender balance as she creates pity for one sex, female, while the other, male, is seen as the one that creates problems for the former. For instance, Calista's father is seen as a man who is not responsible for the family. Then Sunday who is supposed to be her saviour ends up compounding her problem. Consequently, Chioma is given a good role to be a saviour while her husband is only supportive. Is this the true reflection of reality?

‘Broken' is a didactic novel that everyone has to read especially the youth. It shows that life is full of challenge and patience is the tool to encounter any challenge in life. For instance, if Calista had remained patient with her parents, in the village, she might not have encountered the predicaments she suffered in life.

Tuesday, 11 September 2018

Before You Lust

A friend walked into my shop one afternoon with a cutie and introduced him as her cousin. He was a hunk of a guy, tall, muscled biceps, dark-skinned, a thrust out chest, full sensual lips and a handsome face to boot. When he spoke, there was a huskiness to his voice that triggered certain hormones in my body. And when he smiled, I was caught, hook, line and sinker. His smile would melt any woman's heart and the guy knew it. I was combusting, and melting inside.

He knew I was caught in the web of lust. My friend talked, joked and we laughed but all along I was lost to lust. I ogled his macho build, his hairy arms sent me to delightful fantasies. I practically undressed him with my eyes and my hands itched to follow my eyes. How my friend never caught the heat that oozed out of me beats me. But the guy knew he got me pant's down.  I was willing to explore and experiment, he was too and we spoke volumes with our eyes over my friend's head.

An hour later they left and I watched his behind with longing until he disappeared out of sight. I sighed heavily, got up and increased the speed of the ceiling fan, I needed to cool off.

"You're melting for a guy you don't even know." My head said.
"It doesn't matter, the guy is a lady slayer." My heart announced.
"Just what I needed was one night with him, or rather some time with him whether night or day makes no difference." My body whispered.

Like I knew he would, in the evening he came minus my friend. No trying to mask my feeling, it was just the two of us. after we shook hands I trialled my hand down his hairy arm and looked deep into his eyes, my intent clearly pooled in my eyes. The guy smiled, the smile of a spider that had caught a fly in its web.

But then we had to sit and chat, connect and make plans for a suitable rendezvous. I wanted to have him to quench the fire he had ignited in my body. I fired off a lot of questions, occupation, hobbies and the likes. After ten minutes of talking with him, my lust froze, all my pent up heat turned cold. He tried to use his smile to still win his way into my heart but his smile had lost its potency as far as am concerned.

What happened? I discovered the guy had nothing upstairs. Okay, let's say he wasn't educated, he was a bouncer at a club in one African country where he based. These are non-issues, he was just an airhead that's what pissed me off, we had no meeting point apart from lust. and after we satisfy our lusts, what next?

You have to look and look well before you lust after that man. Don't allow your body, your arousal to dictate for you. Follow your head and not always your heart or body.

 The packaging might be enticing and beautiful but what's inside should be far better than the ornamental outside. It's not about having a good body, a beautiful or handsome face but building your inside to be as good as your outer wrappings.

And don't fall for anybody because of outward appearances alone, except you don't have a standard. Or all you wanted is just the FUN. But if you have standard and love yourself, you should aspire for more in your relationship.

Thursday, 1 March 2018

Fighting Emotion (3)

Chapter 3

Ifeoma suddenly found Fred dogging her heels; it was most likely for him to fall into step with her on her way back from lecture most evenings, or for him to suddenly appear with his own plate of food and sat opposite her in the cafeteria. He became underfoot to the point of annoyance.

The more she tried to dodge him, the more he pursued her. Even when she refused to talk to him, he would keep on talking as if he’s enjoying her stoic silence. It got to an extent her friends started mocking her over his constant presence around her. They christened him her ‘lover boy’.

One evening she came out of the female hostel gate to see him loitering around, waiting for her, incensed, her blood boiled over, and her temper erupted, she walked up to him. "Why are you stalking me?"

He saw the anger brimming in her eyes as always, and smiled to douse it. “Actually, I was waiting to see you, since you banned me from coming to your room….” He shrugged. She had almost chewed him raw the day he visited her without invitation, in front of friends and roommates she told him off in a not so pleasant manner. He had to respect her privacy; there should be a limit to his foolishness.

“Now what, can’t you take a no from a girl and push on?”
“That’s not the way to talk to a guy who is trying so hard to court you.”

"Haven't it occur to you that I don't want to be courted, especially by you?" she retorted.

His eyes gazed at her lovingly, a look that drove Ifeoma crazy and chipped at her resistance. Fred watched the play of emotion in her eyes, and knew her hostility was thawing; just a matter of time, and his man-hunt or rather his woman-hunt bait would catch its prey. A fleeting wisp of a smile appeared on his face.

He wondered how long she would continue to deny the spark kindling between them. It’s being three months now since they met and he had been going after her. Can a woman be this obstinate?
“How about we go to the student centre for a drink and a talk?”
She shook her head. "I don't think there is anything else you will say that will make me change my mind," she said with thinly disguised anger.

“Probably so, but for the sake of civility just humour me.” A brooding look replaced his smile.

“If I oblige, will you promise to stop stalking me?”
“You will have your wish fulfilled soon because I'm going to be away for a month."

A startled look jumped into her eyes. Fred noticed and tried to arrange his face into a benign expression. She could fight him all she wanted but he knew she would miss him.

“Where are you going to be for a whole month?”

“Can we sit down and discuss it over some bottles of drink?”

“Okay,” a grudging acceptance as she let down her guard a notch and followed him to the centre.

The moment they sat down, she faced him. "So, you will leave school for one month to do what, what of class work and assignments?"

“Calm down, I told you over some bottles of drink, and the drinks haven’t arrived yet.”

She flicked her hand in the air impatiently. “I don’t like waiting for information.”

“You have to wait and you have to be friendly and smile to get the information.”

Indignation flared in her eyes, Fred smiled. “So, what will you drink?”

“A soft drink will do.”

He went to the counter and came back with a soft drink and a melt; he uncorked them and handed the soft drink to her. After a few sip, she eyed him wearily.

He beat her to the question. “How hard have you been banging the typewriter and decoding the shorthand?”

Her lips tumbled into an unrestrained smile, “Not easy, but my quiz scores are not bad.”

“I’m happy to hear that, but I will be happier if you smile more when you’re with me and be a little friendlier.”

Anger flickered in her eyes, Fred held up his hand. “Calm down Ify, I just want us to be friends; there is no harm in friendship. It will be more fun for you to relax around me, smile and be cheerful than to be constantly on your guard, I’m not an ogre, just a guy who happens to like you so much and trying so hard to let you know that.”

She raised her eyes to the ceiling in silent exasperation. “Can’t you understand? I don’t want you! I don’t want to be hurt; I don’t want any man trampling on my heart.”

“Why? Something I did or didn’t do or from past experiences?”
He listened as she explained her reasons for not wanting an intimate relationship with any man yet.

“Okay, we can take it one step at a time. I’m not hot on commitment too.”

"Yes, so I have heard through campus grapevine, you're the type of guy I have been warned not to get close to or I will be stung for life."

“You’re too intelligent to judge me based on what you heard about me. Why not keep your biases aside and get to know the real me.”
"Really? You mean there is more to you than the stories flying about campus as the crowned prince of heart breaker."

His mouth lifted in a sexy smile. “I don’t break hearts.”
Ifeoma swallowed and looked away. He looked so dashingly handsome and rakish, her heart and brain cells quivered, a part of her wanted to shred her sanity and be adventurous, go wild and follow her heart desires.

She was melting and didn’t like it, of all guys to fall for; it has to be one with a reputation, one who had left a trail of girls heartbroken. She had fought so hard to keep her distance from him. “Honestly Fred, I like you as a person -", before the smile could completely take over his face, she added quickly. “But I don’t want a relationship with you.”

He looked deeply into her eyes; he could see the fears, the uncertainties, and the struggles. “Ify, what are you afraid of?”
She stared at him, a contemplative look on her face. He leaned toward her a little. “Life is a risk you have to combat with and it requires lots of mobility and dexterity don’t let fear keep you static and steamroll you out of the joy, the happiness and the fun of living and loving. You deserve that much in your life. Give yourself a break and embrace love.”

A smile cracked through her frosty face. “You’re big grammars and psychobabble talk will not melt my heart. I don’t want to be hurt; I don’t want to put my heart in the hand of a Romeo who will make mincemeat of it.”

“Trust me. Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m not really a Satyr as girls made me out to be.” For once his confident smile was replaced by an earnest plea that cut to her heart.

She studied him through narrowed eyes; for how long would she keep fighting her emotion and hiding it behind anger at his audacious pursuit. It would be foolish to keep pretending he didn’t appeal to her. From the first day she laid eyes on him, her heart had never been at rest, and she knew he would never give up. She realised for some time now she had stopped seeing him as simply a man pestering her life, but a possible relationship in bloom.
As the thought rolled through her head, her stomach became a ball of jumbled quivering nerves, lifting her drink she took a sip. "Well, your one-month absence will give me enough time to categorise and analysis my true feelings for you."

The smile that waltzed through his face snuck past her last defence, and she knew she had lost the battle when her cheeks dimpled convulsively into a smile.

“Not before then?”

“Nah, remember, one step at a time.

Sunday, 18 February 2018

Decoration of Faith (The story of Hannah)

My latest book.

When a woman gets married, everyone expects her to get pregnant immediately. Whereby it doesn't happen the woman goes through ridicule and misery.  This is the story of Hannah and Elkanah in the Bible.

Decoration of Faith talks about their love, their faith and their quest for a child. After all they gone through, God decorated their faith by giving them, Samuel


Friday, 16 February 2018

Fighting Emotion (Young Adult Romance Series 1)

About the book

When a man loves a woman, he will do anything to win her love. Fred is ready to play the fool to get Ifeoma to accept his love for her is genuine.

Ifeoma is afraid to lose her heart to a man with a reputation, one who has left a trail of girls heartbroken. She has to fight her emotion and fight him off to avoid the inevitable.

You want to read the rest of the book? keep a date here or get a free copy @

Thursday, 15 February 2018

Fighting Emotion (2)

Chapter Two

Fred sat on his bed in the male hostel staring off into nothing, his brain muddled with thoughts that escalated
his heartbeat above normal. He had no reason to spend Friday night in his hostel room, he preferred weekends away at a room he shared with a friend in town. Worst still, he had no pressing need or reasonable reason to set up his easel and paint but that’s exactly what his heart was urging him to do.
   Deep in his heart, he knew it was because of her, and he didn't even know her name or department. Who was she and why had she remain fixated on his brain all through the week? Not willing to examine it critically, he got up and got busy, selecting paints and brushes and other art materials he would need for the day, he packed them inside his knapsack and made sure all other items he needed were intact.
    He put on his work clothing, and as the first break of light streaked across the sky, he eased out of the room loaded down with bag, board, and table. He went to the exact location they met a week earlier and set up his easel.
   His body taut with anticipation, he went about his chores, made a selection of brushes, mixed the colours and with less attention he would have put into his work if it was a class work or a client’s work, Fred splashed colours on his board as he tried to capture the trees in the field.
   After thirty minutes of constantly looking behind his shoulder, Fred, berating himself for his stupidity wondered why a mere encounter with an unknown girl should be a source of emotional chaos in his life.
    Suddenly his body tingled and his toes curled excitedly, a sensation he never noticed before. He turned and saw her from a distance in sports gears.
   Ifeoma saw the lone figure in the distance and told herself to avert her eyes and walk straight to her hostel, but on the brink of taking the right turn towards her hostel, she looked up to steal a furtive glance, and as their eyes met, a shiver went through her body like an electric jolt.
   She was bent on ignoring him and the reaction of her body, when he raised his hand towards her in greeting. Her footsteps faltered, she looked at him and then at her hostel gate, and against her will, her legs decided for her by walking towards him. Feeling betrayed by one of her body parts, her face tightened into a mask of anger. 

   Joy like he never experienced before surged through Fred's body as he watched her advancing with bounced determined steps as one walking towards a battlefield. Spitfire, as the word, echoed in his head a huge smile broke over his face. 

   Ifeoma sucked in her breath at the transformation, all the sharp angles of his face relaxed with the smile, he stood poised, tall and handsome; a picture of a male model. Heart-breaker, her head cautioned, but already there was a mutiny between her head and her heart, each was determined to go their separate ways. And even her body's treacherous reaction was an indication it wouldn't listen to her brain when it comes to him. 

   “Hi, I’m Fred.” He stretched out his right hand. “That’s if you wouldn’t mind having a splotch of colour on your hand.”
   Ifeoma hesitated for a second and thrust out her hand into his. Once again she felt the jolt, stronger and withdrew her hand hastily. He was invading her space consciously or unconsciously, and she was determined to find out why. 
   “You took off quite unexpectedly last week.” The smile on his face appeared stupid against her grim visage.
   “Do you come here every Saturday to paint, because apart from last week, I haven’t seen you here before?”
   The huskiness of her voice stirred Fred the more, her voice had none of the girly and flirtatious undertones of the girls who usually flocked around him. Stifling a smile, he asked. “Do you go for your gymnastic classes every Saturday morning?”
   A wry amusement glinted in her eyes. “You actually believed that?”
   “Do I have reasons to doubt you?” he looked her up suavely.
   She snorted. “Gymnastic, my foot.”
   "But seriously, weird things happen. With your dainty configuration, I wouldn't put it pass you, you have the body for it and also an undertone of compact energy.”
   A body, wired like a firework that would go up in flames of passion with just a touch. His lips curved into a smile at his licentious thought.
   “Thanks, maybe I will consider taking it up for real.” She glanced at his canvas. “Last week you’re so intense with your painting, today you’re relaxed.”
   He looked at his board, wet his brush, twirled it inside a colour palette and splashed it on the board in geometric strokes."Last week I have an assignment to submit on Monday morning. This week, the only reason I'm here is just to see you."
   Because he wasn’t looking at her, he didn’t see the alarm that jumped into her eyes. “Why are you here to see me?” Eyes narrowed, she waited for his answer.
   “Last week, you took off before we could be properly introduced…” he paused and turned to her. “We have an unfinished introduction to conclude.” He grinned. “I’m Fred Ibe, a part three student of Fine and Applied Art.”
   At her silence, he raised his brow and waited. Reluctantly she caved in. "I'm Ifeoma Jonathan, a first-year student of Secretarial Administration."
   Fresh meat. He hoped no guy had lay claim to her. There's always a mad rush every year by guys to acquire girlfriends from amongst the new students referred to as ‘fresh meat'. He grinned as his look turned to appraisal.
   "Yes, fresh meat," Ifeoma said reading his thought and look accurately.
   His grin widened. “Has any guy been territorial?”
   The appreciative gleam in his eyes made her voice hardened. “I was sent here by my parents to learn how to bang a typewriter and decode shorthand, not to bang guys or decode their lies.”
   His voice rang out in a deep, throaty male laugh. Another word, Feisty, popped into his head. As his thought roamed wild, his eyes roamed over her body, ‘bang’, how apt the comparison.
   His mind wandered into forbidden territory, as he wondered what it would be like to have her beneath him on a bed, his hands roaming over her body, her tight lips melting under his kiss and their bodies joined in a banging sensation. Just imagining the action gave him a hard-on. He shook his head to dispel the lustful picture his mind had conjured. 
   “I guess any guy who makes an attempt at toasting you will have his head roasted, even before the words come out of his mouth.”
   “Precisely! I’m glad you got the message loud and clear before you start scheming lines in your head.” Ifeoma said without a grain of smile on her face.
   His smile never wavered as he stared at her steadily. That’s my girl, his heart sang, he didn’t know where the line came from, right now he looked and thought like a man besotted. No woman had ever made his heart flipped; he had never had a compelling urge to possess a woman like he felt right now.
   Women fell into his laps in doves, and he had always taken his pick, enjoy the short rumble and tumble; short because none have been able to sustain his interest for long. His longest relationship lasted six months, not that he wanted it that way, but he discovered too late that Anastasia had long claws that were hard to unclasp. It took him months to pull her talons out of his life; she was beautiful but emotionally insecure, he got tired of assuaging her ego and breaking loose wasn’t as easy as he thought. He was just recovering from that experience.
   As he watched her walk away, he knew she belongs to him and he would go after her with every arsenal in his possession. His primordial instinct heightened at the thought of the chase ahead, the hunted had turned the hunter. A trickle of excitement ran down his spine. Gosh! Was he ready to make a fool of himself because of a woman? The stupid grin that broke over his face was answer enough. Insanity just knocked at his door and he was ready to go out of his way to embrace it happily and willingly.


Sinful Desire- A novel

Chapter 1 Vetty Nwadialor pulled up with a screech behind her office staff bus at Yaba Market garage. Taking a deep breath to quell t...