Swept Away (Part 1)

By Erica Storm

This book (BWWM, African American, Interracial, and Multicultural) is for individuals 18 and over.

Rachel Morgan a singing sensation as a child, is now a famous singer, and she thinks her life is complete because she’s engaged and ready to marry her fiancé in Hawaii. When she’s booked on a cheap flight on a private jet by her assistant, she meets the handsome pilot who is down on his luck, and he has contempt for anyone with money.

Mason’s loss of his inheritance, his mansion, and plane, reluctantly agrees to charter his jet to take Rachel to the island. There is an instant dislike and sparks fly. When the plane crashes and they are swept away on an uninhabited island, with only each other and hormones raging, what will it take to bring them together?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erica Storm
• Release date: Jun 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311678461

Erica Storm

Hi, I'm Erica Storm and I write spicy erotica and erotic romance. I have over fifty short titles and box sets to arouse your senses. If you don't have the time to invest in a long novel, you can read my short stories on the go as you wait in the checkout lines. "When you read erotica you feel alive." Happy reading!

Book preview

Chapter 1

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Rachel

Hurry, I’m going to be late for my flight. Rachel Morgan threw on her blue jean short shorts and a white tee and glanced into the mirror checking her ample figure, her small waist and a supple rear end, her best asset she thought as she headed down the winding stair case. She tottered just slightly in her Christian Louboutin, then holding on to the banister she wiggled down the steps. The sound of her black studded stilettos muffled on the carpeted stairs. Her maid and butler glanced at each other.

Why are you wearing those short shorts and those shoes? They make you look like a tramp or worse yet... She whispered the word, A Ho.

The word is whore and I heard what you said, but that’s not going to stop me from being me. After all I’m a diva, she said tossing her long curly hair to the side, and everyone expects me to wear something provocative.

Well, you can’t get more prevaricated than that.

The word is provocative, Uncle Grant. I swear if I stay around you any longer I’ll probably be eating grits and cornbread next, and talking like you two, Rachel said taking another look in the mirror and putting on another sliver of lipstick.

And what’s wrong with the way we talk? Her uncle Grant asked. You didn’t seem to mind when you were a little kid when you couldn’t spell cat if I spotted you the c and t. You was always asking me things. Always running your mouth. What’s this Uncle Grant? What’s that? Always talking never taking time to listen. Now you think you know everything.

I was a kid then. I didn’t know any better. And it was you I had to spot the C and T to spell cat.

I can’t help if I didn’t get a good education like you. We were poor folks from Louisiana, had to work in the fields when I was coming up, He said walking away with his head down head for the kitchen.

Girl you act like you are ashamed of us. Go on and give your uncle a kiss and apologize. If it wasn’t for him working at that plant all these years you wouldn’t be able to get those singing and dancing lesson to make you a big star.

I’ll apologize. She rushed to him as he sat at the kitchen isle and kissed him on his head and then gave him a big hug.

I’m sorry, Unk.

Apologies accepted, he said to her and gave her a tired smile. Her uncle was in his seventies and he had worked years at the same refinery and now he was sick and plain exhausted.

I know about all those things and I don’t want to be reminded. I thought if I bought this house and brought you out here... Rachel glanced at her aunt and uncle and they shook their heads.

We don’t need all these things. They’re just things. More things for me to dust. Look at all those brick-a-whatcha called it. And those clothes. No one need to spend that kind of money on one pair of shoes and that other stuff. Girl you know you can go broke if you keep spending like this. Remember what your manager says.

Oh him that cheap BS.

Watch your mouth, you, Uncle Grant said. Anyone cussing in here will be me.

Rachel you’ve changed. Look at you. False eyelashes, skimpy clothes and what else? I remember when you were a little girl... her aunt said marching behind her.

Are we going to start that again? Please? Rachel said turning around and standing in the foyer on the black and white Italian tile glancing out of her antique beveled glass doors. I remember when I was a little girl and now I’m twenty-one and I’m a millionaire. You wouldn’t have a house like this to take care of and live in if it wasn’t for me working my ass off as a child, singing and riding Shetland ponies from California to Texas in every God forsaken mall in this country. Singing to snotty nose teens and perverts who came to hear the little girl with the golden voice.

Girl someone needs to wash your mouth out with soap, her aunt said tapping her foot.

Aunt Alice, you sound like my mother and I haven’t seen her in years and I don’t want to see her.

You know your mother has a problem and you need to have a little more sympathy for her.

She’s had that problem since I was a girl. Bad choices of men, booze and drugs, Rachel said standing and prancing in the mirror. Turning around to show off her behind with her cheeks slightly showing from underneath her shorts, and getting another volley of faces from her aunt. She put both her hands under her breasts and pushed them up.

And you think that choice you made over in the Bahamas is any better? You’re one of the most ungrateful little shits... and she caught herself. She wanted to give Rachel a piece of her mind. "Look at you. You think that Bahama man want you for your