Untold Secrets by Raven Ferrari is one of her steamiest romantic comedy novels. If you're searching for well written and laugh out loud funny bwwm books or contemporary romance novels with pregnancy, you'll definitely want to check this story out. Raven Ferrari is one of the best contemporary writers and her talents in interracial romance books are almost unmatched.
Blake Masterson is a handsome white man with beautiful blue eyes and long blonde hair. What's not to love? Theoretically, he should have no problem finding the woman of his dreams, however there's a big problem. None of his dates are willing to look past the fact that he’s a stripper. Add that to the fact that he's sitting on an even darker secret; one that could throw him into center of a nationwide scandal.
Bianca Brinkley is a sexy African American scientist who can't find love. Although she dreams about being swept off her feet by a Prince Charming, she's too busy slaving away in her laboratory to actually find him. Bianca is on the cusp of a big breakthrough which will change the world forever, but that's actually terrible news. There are lots of mercenaries who want to suppress her new technology before it goes public, and they'll kill her dead if they have to.
As Bianca races against the clock to make her scientific breakthrough, Blake's dark secret gets exposed and he's desperate to outrun his past. With their worlds spiraling out of control, Blake and Bianca take solace in each other's arms. Soon, they fall madly in love, and they're overcome with wild passion, however, with bad guys in hot pursuit, both Blake and Bianca will have to confess their secrets to save their love, and themselves…
Can this interracial couple stay together with so many secrets to hide?
Is their love for each other worth risking everything?
What will they think of each other when the truth comes out?
There was an old strip joint out by Park and 32nd St. They called it Thursday’s. Was that a weird name for a strip joint? Fuck yeah! People always got confused about when shit was happening. Why did Thursday’s have a Tuesday special? Nobody knew. Everybody would show up on Thursday expecting cheap wings and tits, but they would get squat. Thursday was the one day of the week that the joint was closed. It made no fucking sense.
The people who worked at Thursday’s came from a variety pack of weirdos and lunatics. Everyone said that Raven was the “daddy issues” girl, a wanton slut who didn’t give a shit about society’s conventions. She would fuck whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted, but only she knew who and when. At the moment, Raven was quarreling with a Nice Guy customer. He’d rented a booth and cuddled her for almost 3 hours. When he finally realized that Raven wasn’t going to have sex with him just because he’d rented the booth, he started calling her a trifling whore and saying that she’d led him on. Now they were arguing over the money. It would take Raven two more hours and the help of a bartender to get her six hundred dollars.
At another corner was Angel. Angel had been dancing in the corner when an old, conservative-looking couple entered the establishment, looking very uncomfortable. It was clear that they had never been to a strip joint before. The old couple looked at Angel for over 20 minutes when the husband walked up to her.
“My wife and I have been married for twenty eight years and I just found out that she likes girls. She tells me that you’re her dream girl. Will you come dance for her?”
Angel’s heart melted like butter. She danced for the old lady like it was an audition for the Juilliard School. After a couple songs, the old lady asked, “Can I feel your boobs?”
“For you? Definitely…” Angel said.
The old lady was delighted. A few more songs played, and soon the old couple forgot about Angel completely. They started making out with each other and shoving hands down each other’s pants. She’d never seen an old couple scramble for the door so fast.
Blake was another Thursday’s regular and he was the one man who didn’t belong to this rat-pack of rejects. Blake had something to hide. For starters, the name ‘Blake’ was neither his stage name, nor his real name. Blake Masterson was a farce; a complete act. He changed to that name when he was eighteen because a bunch of shit had happened. The man called Blake had been living under this name ever since.
Let’s see if I can remember how all of this happened…
If I remember correctly, Blake’s daddy was one hell of an asshole. He’s an even bigger one now, which is hard to imagine, considering the shit he did back in the day. Blake’s daddy used to be a junior lawyer at the district attorney’s office. This was way before he had any money in the bank. Blake still remembered those quaint old days. He remembered their quaint old house, and their quaint old car. Blake even used to have a quaint old paper route. All of a sudden (this happened quite literally overnight) Blake’s family had moved into a large, white mansion in Donald Trump’s neighborhood. Success came insanely quick for Blake’s daddy, but Blake himself was never suspicious of it. Blake didn’t give his rich and famous lifestyle a single thought until several years later, when he was 17.
Blake had gotten into hacking as a hobby. For shits and giggles, Blake had hacked his best friend’s MySpace account. Feeling emboldened, Blake cracked the password for some girl’s Hotmail. He scoured through her inbox and found old gossip, secrets, and even naked photos she’d sent to her ex-boyfriend back when they were still together. At this point, Blake was starting to get drunk off of his own power, so he decided to raise the stakes. He would hack daddy’s work email account.
He immediately regretted it. He found dozens of emails from some woman called Jennifer. They seemed to be strongly romantic messages. After skimming over one or two of them lightly, Blake went back to the inbox and ignored all messages by that name. Blake already felt like he’d seen too much and he wanted to abandon his whole hacking mission altogether, but there was a curious subject line sitting in his inbox. It was titled, “Re: The River…” Blake had the sudden urge to open this email message.
He had stumbled upon a detailed account of a backdoor deal that his father had done seven years earlier. Blake learned about his daddy altering those documents at the district attorney’s office. Because of this fraud, certain companies had been given the right –– or at least the illegal right –– to dump highly toxic substances into the city’s river. Blake’s daddy made millions from this backdoor deal (hence, they moved into a new mansion overnight).
What Blake had seen in his daddy’s email couldn’t be unseen. Blake now he had to revise everything he thought he knew about his daddy, his family and his entire life. Dumping that toxic waste into the river had poisoned all of the wildlife for 20 miles. Tens of thousands of people were directly poisoned by that toxic river. There were probably even more people who suffered from unknown illnesses, or who gave birth to deformed babies. The way Blake saw it, his entire life had been furnished with blood money. The more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t get the nauseating metallic stench of blood out of his imagination. There was no amount of washing that could get the smell to go away.
Blake had woken up to this fraudulent life, but for a few months, he did nothing about it. In truth, there was nothing for him to do. Not unless he wanted to rain an entire shit storm on his own daddy, and send him to prison, too. Blake didn’t have the heart to go that far, so he simply kept his head down and continued to live out the life that had been planned for him. He’d already gotten into West Point. After serving a stint there, and maybe after a little bit of actual combat duty, Blake would have a comfortable corporate job. He’d get something that offered a nearly unlimited expense account and a shitload of stock options.
Keeping up the ruse was most unbearable when his family was in the public eye. Election season was a prime example. Blake would have to play the flawless stand up citizen shtick to make his daddy look good. This was another painful reminder that his father was a goddamn criminal, not a hero. From time to time, Blake recalled a speech that he’d given once to support his father’s campaign. It was about honesty, or something like that… Halfway through the speech, he felt nauseous and couldn’t continue. He ran offstage just in time to barf in the grass.
Eventually, Blake started volunteering at a soup kitchen at night. His dad thought it was a brilliant idea for political reasons, but Blake was doing it for another reason. He wanted to repent for his soul. Night after night, Blake started meeting victims of the toxic river. He didn’t have to look far to find someone who’d been affected by his daddy’s corruption. There were good, healthy people who’d degenerated into invalids because of health complications from exposure to the chemicals in the river. He met a mother who’d given birth to three deaf babies in a row. Blake hung out at the soup kitchen long enough to start hearing about the gossip on the streets. People were saying that the toxic goop had caused three thousand newborns to come out crippled. His heart sank.
Eventually, Blake felt compelled to confront his father about his backdoor deal. It took him a week to work up the nerve. Blake had been back and forth about it that whole week, because he’d convinced himself that something terrible would happen once the confrontation happened. Is he evil enough to kill his own son? Blake meditated on this question endlessly. No matter which angles Blake considered, he simply couldn’t rule out that possibility. Definitely maybe. He thought. To Blake, that answer was even more terrifying than a ‘Yes’. Blake finally confronted daddy one day while he was in his study. If you’re thinking that Blake busted through the doors like it was some sort of a drug raid, think again. He sheepishly entered after knocking and hearing his father say, “Come in.” He closed the door behind him and approached with his head hung low.
“What do you want, son?”
“Well, Dad… I’m going to West Point in a few days and––”
“And you want money?” asked as he opened his desk drawer. “Here. Three thousand. Cash. Take it.”
“Wait, Dad. I’m here about something else… I––”
“It’s a girl. I knew it. Son. Don’t you know you can fuck whoever you want, whenever you feel like? Here. I have some really great pills. They work like a charm––”
“Dad!” Blake cried. “I know about the documents you forged at the district attorney’s office. I know about the toxic dumping in the river.”
At first, Blake was sure that his daddy would leap up from his desk and start strangling him, or something like that. But the violence never came –– not this time. Blake’s daddy smiled, and then he started clapping slowly.
“That’s my boy…” Blake’s daddy said. “Always ahead of the game.”
Blake stood silent. He was dumbfounded.
Blake’s daddy studied him to decide whether his son was a friend, or an enemy. He decided enemy. His was disappointed. Boy went and took after his mother. He thought. Then he sighed and resigned himself to plan B. He would have to persuade his son towards his way of thinking…
“My boy,” Blake’s daddy said. “This is just the way of the world. Everyone who’s ever risen to success in life has broken some rules.”
Blake listened. He was still dumbfounded.
“… Trust me. I know all of them: The Supreme Court Justices, every fucking cop, half the goddamn senate, most of fucking Congress, and yes, The President of The United States. All of our hands are dirty, and we all scratch each other’s backs. Son… the corruption runs so deep that if you ever decided to spill the beans on this little secret, nobody would ever believe you. I’d make sure of it.”
Blake’s daddy paused for dramatic effect….
“So, son. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to drive to West Point next week and you’ll show up for orientation. Then, you’re going to take this three thousand dollars and blow it up some whore’s ass, for all I care. Just make sure that you sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride as your papa creates the next American dynasty. What do you say?”
Blake’s daddy smiled and patted his son on the back. He pressed the wad of cash into his son’s chest with his other hand.
Blake thought about what his daddy was saying. This was code for shut up, or else. If he accepted his father’s offer, life would go back to business as usual. He would go to West Point and sit tight while his fake life of luxury unfolded. Then, in thirty years, Blake’s daddy would croak and pass on the mantle. The cycle would repeat itself. Just like his father before him, Blake would indoctrinate his own child to rape and pillage the people for profit.
Could he do it? Would Blake be willing to sell his soul in exchange for a cushy life of golfing with other rich, white blowhards? No fucking way! In his heart, Blake refused to do it, but at the same time, he wasn’t exactly going to say that outright. That’d be a death sentence! No. Blake would agree now, but defy later…
“What do I say?” Blake said smugly. “Show me where I sign!”
They shook hands, and Blake’s daddy sniggered menacingly.
A week later, Blake was supposed to up for West Point, but he rann off to the other side of the country instead. Blake wanted to be as far away as possible from his daddy. He wanted to disappear from sight. It would be all the better if people thought he was dead. He would have signed up for the witness protection program, but Blake figured that his daddy’s crooked cronies had probably infiltrated that agency, too. He decided to disappear all on his own. He changed his name to Blake, and from that point, he refused to use his real name ever again. Not even with me. So take careful note: ‘Blake’ isn’t Blake’s real name, but we’re calling him that until further notice.
Note: If you’re wondering what all of this has to do with the love story, then I’ll handle that part real quick. Blake’s asshole dad has everything to do with it. Without him, Blake would have never started calling himself Blake Masterson, he would have never become a stripper at the piece-of-shit local strip joint called Thursday’s, he would have never met the love of his life, and, they would have never saved the world. Yep… They saved the goddamn fucking world. See, this whole thing is a really epic story. It’s so good that it might change the way you see yourself and think about life, but the only catch is this teencie weencie extra bit of backstory, ya dig?
Shortly after assuming his new life, Blake had dramatically changed his physical appearance. In a matter of weeks, he went from scrawny and pasty to chiseled and bronzed. Blake had grown his blonde hair out and he added a beard in for good measure. He’d acquired the perfect ‘look’ for the stripper’s lifestyle.
Blake was attracted to stripping for a whole bunch of reasons. The naked girls, for starters. He also liked it because he wanted to go as far underground as possible. He wanted to earn money in cash. He also wanted to be in the very last place that anyone would ever expect to find the governor’s son. Stripping seemed like the perfect cover.
Blake also seemed to have another motive for stripping. He had made up his mind that he would undo the damage that his daddy had caused. In order to do this, Blake figured that he’d need to start a foundation that cleaned up pollution, or helped the poor, or something. He wanted to make as much money as possible, as fast as possible, and he was going to do it without his father’s help. It didn’t take long for Blake to figure out that stripping was the fastest way. A hot stripper could bank a thousand per night. Where else could an eighteen year old make that kind of money without having to suck a dick to get it? Ironically, it was at a strip club.
Besides all of those perks, being a stripper was fun! Who else could say that they accepted payments in their asscrack? Who else got to have women licking champagne off their six pack every single day? Who else got marriage proposals in the mail from women who desperately needed an escape from their suburban lives? Where else could you find such sexual liberation? Strippers talked about sex as casually as most people talked about the weather. Five minutes spent with a stripper was plenty of time to find out about her baby diaper fetish.
Blake had been making bank with his weird new lifestyle and he loved it. Before he knew it, he’d saved up a couple of suitcases filled with cold hard moolah. He had stashed them away in his bedroom closet. For a while there, Blake had completely lost track of how much money was in those suitcases. Between you and me, I don’t think he even cared how much money was in them. I think Blake was young and a little dumb, and Like I said before, he really enjoyed his lifestyle. But see, eventually, that whole lifestyle caught up to him.
Dating a stripper always comes with drama, and Blake was getting tired of it. First of all, strippers were masters of faking emotions. A job application for an exotic dancer specifically demands for applicants to demonstrate their talents for exciting and seducing other people. Whenever two strippers started dating, nine times out of ten, one of them was pretending to be in love while the other was actually falling in love. Blake had gotten his heart broken a few times, until he got wise to the game. Then he sort of became a master of it. Woops. He’d always manage to spin some romantic Disney fairytale up, and before long, someone would be checking into heartbreak hotel.
Blake finally saw the error of his ways one day, when he found himself playing mind games with a Russian blonde named Stasia. His feelings of remorse could have been triggered because he’d made her leave a steady relationship with a lawyer, but no, they weren’t. Fuck that guy. Blake felt remorse because of her smile. She smiled so innocently. Blake knew that after he’d broken her heart, she’d never smile so innocently again. Not for him, or for another man — not for anything. That’s what it took to get Blake to his limit. He decided to let Stasia down as gently as possible, and to try to find her lawyer ex-boyfriend so they could patch things up. Ever since then, Blake had sworn off strippers for life.
Blake loved his job. He made great money, and he was saving most of it so that he could start a foundation. The hours were great, too. He didn’t have to get out of bed until three in the afternoon. He could wake up, work on his foundation stuff, squeeze in a good workout, then he could show up for his shift at 9 p.m. And, now that he was older and wiser and he’d sworn off dating other strippers, his life was much more peaceful. There was only one problem: He was lonely.
This was one of the surprising drawbacks to being a stripper. Outside of dating other strippers, it was almost impossible to have a healthy relationship. Things would always be great for a while, then eventually, the shit would inevitably hit the fan. This usually happened once the other person had discovered that they were dating a stripper. Most normal people can’t handle the awkwardness of it all. How were they supposed to explain this to their parents? No respectable woman wanted to have to explain what “teabagging” was to her mommy.
Just last week, Blake was on a date with a hot young designer for Chanel. Everything was perfectly fine for the whole date. They’d flirted a little bit over drinks. They listened to the hippy drummers in the park. He’d picked her up and cradled her in his arms so that she wouldn’t have to walk through a muddy puddle. This hot young blonde hadn’t been with such a charming stud in a very long time. I believe the expression is called, “She wanted his cock badly…”
… But nothing happened. Some time after they’d gotten back to her apartment, Blake’s date had figured out that he was a stripper and she dumped him on the spot. It was a tragic story that I’ll probably get to at some point. Just remember: that dumping pushed Blake over the edge. Blake was now consumed by his feelings of loneliness. More than his father, or his secret identity, or the $262,861.43 that he’d stashed away in suitcases, Blake was lonely, and he felt like an asshole for pushing another good woman away.
If you're interested in more romantic comedy novels, I recommend checking out Just A Number by Jamila Jasper. Click here to read the free sample on our site!
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