National bestselling authors Kiki Swinson and De’nesha Diamond bring you two irresistible novellas about men so bad, they’re everything you don’t need—and exactly what you want…
I Need a Gangsta Kiki Swinson
Melody Goldman isn’t about to let her rich, cheating, ungrateful husband walk out and leave her with nothing. Fortunately, ex-con Scotty Harris has no problem disposing of her problems in exchange for plenty of cold, hard cash—and hot, hard sexing. But when Scotty crosses one line too many, Melody’s revenge will be a hustle he never saw coming …
Gentlemen Prefer Bullets De’Nesha Diamond
Successful publicist Blake Scott survived by playing the Hollywood game…and keeping far, far away from her gangsta kingpin father. But now the only person who can protect her is his enforcer, Eli Hardwick. Good thing this thug cleans up real nice—and is even better when he gets down and dirty …
“Kiki captures the heat of the streets.” —Wahida Clark
“Diamond's hairpin plot twists, snappy dialogue, sultry sex scenes, and colorful, often hilarious characters keep the pages turning.” —Publishers Weekly on Heist
The Day of the Interview
The courtroom was pin-drop quiet and packed to capacity.
The jury foreman stood up, the rustle of his suit making
everyone in the room feel tense. He cleared his throat. The
judge asked the foreman if the jury had reached the verdict.
The foreman said yes and unfolded a piece of paper. He opened
his mouth and the words seemed to come out in slow motion.
“We the jury, in the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia
versus Melody Goldman, find the defendant not guilty of the
charge of first-degree murder in count one of the indictment.”
A loud round of groans and moans filtered around the room.
“Order!” the judge shouted, banging his gavel.
Silence came once again. The foreman continued apprehensively.
He could feel the evil eyes bearing down on him.
“We the jury also find the defendant not guilty of the charge
of manslaughter in count two of the indictment,” he finished.
The courtroom erupted in pandemonium. There were
screams and moans. Reporters were running out of the courtroom
so they could be the first to break the news. Melody
Goldman grabbed her defense attorney in a long, tight embrace
as relief settled on her shoulders like a cloak of comfort.
She swiped away the happy tears from her face and mouthed,
“Thank you,” to her attorneys. In her mind, justice had been
Melody could hear the news reporters and tabloid media
personalities screaming, “Melody Goldman may have just gotten
away with two murders! The verdict has shocked the nation!”
Melody was ushered out of the courtroom, shrouded by her
team of attorneys. They had done it. Melody was a free woman.
Once they hit the courthouse doors, throngs of reporters moved
in for the kill.
“Ms. Goldman! How did you do it? How did you get away
with murder?” reporters screamed as Melody tried to get out
of the building. She kept her head low, hiding her face with
her arms. She didn’t want anyone to see that she was smiling.
The replay of my courtroom scene almost brought a smile
to my face again. I sat in the network studio watching myself
on the big screen. The network had chosen to use the scene as
an opening for the piece they were doing on my life. Next I
heard the correspondent rehearsing her opening statements. It
was all fascinating, to say the least.
“Tonight on Date Time, we bring you the story of Melody
Goldman. Once a beautiful, wealthy, and widely popular socialite
among the elite in the Tidewater area, Goldman narrowly
escaped serving time in prison for heinous acts of murder
that she says she was wrongly accused of, although Tidewater
police and prosecutors have a different view on things. Tonight
you will hear Goldman tell the story of how she went from a
dazzling socialite who flaunted her position as the wife of criminal
defense attorney to the stars Richard Goldman to the most
hated woman in the United States. Police say she was aptly
dubbed the black widow, who got away with not one but two
murders. We will take you through Melody’s life, starting with
her humble beginnings in the roughest neighborhood in Virginia
Beach, through her whirlwind love affair and marriage
to one of the most renowned defense attorneys in the United
States, to her current life as a wealthy widow who says she enjoys
every day of her life after coming so close to losing her
freedom. Stay tuned as we bring you the story of Melody Goldman,
a woman who, by her own account, got caught between
a gangsta and a gentleman.”
I smirked to myself as I listened to Michelle Moyer, the
host of the television special that would be featuring the rise
in my celebrity and my even higher rise to grace, as she rehearsed
the opening for our interview. The smirk turned into
all-out laughter as I thought about the comment that I had
gotten away with not one but two murders. It was nervous
laughter, I have to admit, but I was thinking, You damn right
I got away! I was the real victim. Those motherfuckers did themselves
in. It was not me. Period. And now the world would
know the truth about my story. I’d walked away from being
convicted of horrible crimes, but not before I was put through
some shit myself.
I folded my arms across my chest as I thought about the
entire ordeal. Folding my arms was something the show’s producers
had asked me not to do during the taping. Well, I was
feeling defensive—that’s what my psychiatrist often told me
whenever I folded my arms and twisted my lips in his presence.
I didn’t care that people didn’t believe my side of the
story; I knew the truth. I was going to tell it like it really happened.
Not like the media had made it out to be when everything
first happened. After listening to Michelle Moyer rehearse
several times, I didn’t think what she was saying about me was
too bad; at least she didn’t call me what everyone else had been
calling me in the media—a jealous, scorned, gold-digging murderer
who wanted revenge.
Michelle finished her intro and was ready to get down to
business with the interview. She smiled at me as she settled
into her chair directly across from me, and members of the
crew put the finishing touches on her makeup. It was a phony
smile, forced through her porcelain veneers. I could feel the
envious vibe she was sending my way. It was clear that even
Michelle Moyer, one of the top news correspondents in Virginia,
was jealous of the still-fabulous Melody Goldman. I
guess still fabulous was a bit of an understatement. I was new
and improved. I mean, my natural beauty was still apparent
even after all of the stress I had endured. I had stepped up my
game from my old usual $500 weave to lace front wigs imported
directly from India just for me. I kept my nails done
with weekly manicures, and my skin was even more radiant
than it was before my little run-in with the law. I say run-in
because that’s just what it was. I am Melody Goldman—didn’t
they know that? I was simply not to be fucked with. I also refused
to take full responsibility. I would always maintain my
“Are you ready?” Michelle asked, still flashing that fakeas-
I inhaled deeply. “As ready as I’m gonna get,” I answered,
exhaling. I hadn’t really talked about all of the intricacies of
my story since my trial. In fact, I had definitely pushed some
things into the far reaches of my mind, but today, like I
promised when the network agreed to pay me $200,000 for my
story, I was going to tell everything, raw, uncut, and in their
“O-okay, Ms. Goldman, or do-do you prefer Melody?”
Michelle stumbled over her words.
“Melody is fine.”
“Melody, you are one of the most talked about women in
America. Many people say you literally got away with murder.
Although you say you didn’t do it, this can’t be how you
planned your life. You can’t walk down the street without
someone recognizing you. You’ve even received death threats.
I mean . . . ,” Michelle started, her trailed off statement leading
me down her little path.
“No, definitely not. As a little girl, I always knew I would
be famous, though. I also knew I’d be just as fabulous as I am
today,” I began.
“But did you know you’d be infamous?” Michelle blurted
out, cutting in before I could say anything else. Her words
struck me like a gut punch. I grabbed the edges of the chair
and gripped them tightly. I was more determined than ever to
tell the story now. I opened my mouth and thought about how
it had all gotten started.