G-Spot 2: The Seven Deadly Sins
An Urban Erotic Serial Tale Told in 7 Parts
GREED: The 3RD DEADLY SIN
“Little Black Books”
Urban Erotic Noire Publications
P.O. Box 3443
New York, New York 10185
G-Spot 2: The Seven Deadly Sins, GREED: The 3RD Deadly Sin
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Noire
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excluding brief quotes used in reviews.
The Noire logo and its likeness are trademarks of Urban Erotic Noire Publications.
Visit our websites at:www.GSpot2.com
OF NOIRE’S BLOCKBUSTER
URBAN EROTIC SERIAL TALE!
Juicy-Mo is caught in a web of lies and greed!
Real friends are hard to come by in the heart of the hood, and when two hundred grand in cash is on the line, even your closest friend might do you dirty!
Lured back into the heart of New York City, Juicy faces some harsh realities when the cuffs get slapped on her and she gets thrown in the bing.
Will Juicy come out of this with her heart and soul intact? Or will these gut-wrenching acts of greed set her up for even more drama?
Find out more in…
G-SPOT 2: THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS
Greed: The 3rd Deadly Sin
The Urban Erotic Serial Saga Continues!
ALSO BY NOIRE
Thong on Fire
Hittin’ the Bricks
URBAN EROTIC APPETIZERS
Baby Brother (with 50 Cent)
Maneater (with Mary B. Morrison)
Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless
(with Kiki Swinson)
URBAN EROTIC QUICKIES
From the Streets to the Sheets
This here ain’t no romance
It’s an urban erotic tale,
Paper chasers gettin’ doe
While Juicy’s stuck in jail!
Don’t let ’em catch you sleepin’
Cause they’re schemin’ for ya stash
Sticky fingers reachin’
In ya pockets for your cash!
Even when they’re fat and full
They want more than they need
They’re plottin’ on your paper too
This Deadly Sin is GREED!
G-Spot: An Urban Erotic Tale
#1 Essence Magazine Bestseller
“The Coldest Winter Ever meets ADDICTED!”
– Jamise L. Dames, Bestselling author of Momma’s Baby, Daddy’s Maybe
“Freedom comes with a price in Noire’s sexy, gritty urban melodrama. Noire’s heady brew of lethal realism and unbridled sexuality should spell ‘hot and bothered’ for erotic fiction fans.” – Publishers Weekly
In the beginning…
Have you ever rolled over in the middle of the night and been so damn thankful you just broke down and cried? Did you praise God for delivering you from a grimy Dungeon and blessing you with a tiny taste of heaven? Did you wake up every morning chillin’ in the arms of the one you loved? Snuggled deep in the sheets like nothing could ever hurt you? That shit felt perfect, didn’t it? So perfect, that you let your guard down and stopped looking over your shoulder, right? But then…did you get caught slippin? Did you start waking up in the darkness gripped by fear? Your body trembling in terror? Did you lay there paralyzed, with prophecy lurking over your head and holding you prisoner? Did you feel doomed to a punishment that you knew you didn’t deserve? Did you search desperately for a way out, but no matter how far you ran, you just couldn’t outrun your fate? Come hang out with me for a minute, y’all. Sit down and get comfortable as I tell you what happened when I hauled ass outta Harlem and ran smack into my destiny. My name is Juicy Monique Stanfield. I escaped from the G-Spot, and this is the rest of my story…
My mouth was hanging wide open as the police made their move on me.
“Wait a goddamn minute!” I hollered as a fat white cop ripped my suitcase from my hand. A black DT in plainclothes was there too, and without a word he snatched the phony sling off my arm and slapped a pair of cuffs on me.
“What the hell are y’all doing?” I shrieked as the brothah bent me over and hiked my arms up behind my back. “Rita!” I screamed as she took off walking ahead of me. “Rita! What the fuck is going on?”
I stumbled through the terminal way too shocked to care about the nosy people who were pointing and staring at me. As the cops shoved me along I didn’t give a damn about the gwap of cash that was hidden in my Gucci bag, or the stacks of hundred dollar bills that were taped to my body neither.
Nah, my heart was on petro, and my mind was lost in a tunnel of confusion. The only thing that was coming through loud and clear was the fact that I had been played. Set up. Stabbed in the back. Straight up betrayed.
I couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t seem real.