Celebrating Black History & Love with A Gift for You!

Hey there!

Welcome to the month of February, a month where we celebrate Black History and the celebration of Valentine’s Day! As a writer of faith-based romances featuring African heritage, I am passionate about telling stories that celebrate Black love. Not just through struggle, but through joy, faith, and unwavering devotion.

Too often, narratives of Black love is tied solely to trauma, but our love isn’t just about overcoming pain—it’s about thriving, laughing, growing, and embracing the beauty of God’s design for love. Our history didn’t begin with struggle; it began with creation. There is royalty in our veins, and our love stories deserve to reflect the fullness of that truth.

So, as we honor both Black history and love, let’s immerse ourselves in stories that showcase tenderness, faith, and the kind of love that builds instead of just endures. And because I love sharing stories with you… I have a free gift for you.

Well… you’ll have to keep reading to find out.

The Valentine Auction

The ballroom was a glittering display of wealth and elegance. Nothing less was expected from the wealthiest Black community in the south, Luxe Noir. The red, gold, and black décor complimented the sea of tailored suits and flowing gowns that filled the space. The air was buzzing with polite laughter and the clinks of champagne flutes.
Ladi Giwa stood towards the back of the room, her fingers wrapped tightly around her untouched drink as she surveyed the crowd with a noticeable detachment. Despite it being a Valentine’s Day event, romance was not on her agenda tonight.
Her sole purpose was a contribution to charity.
The auction was for a worthy cause, Love for Life was a foundation she genuinely believed in. They were advocates for people with chronic illnesses that were invisible to the human eye but just as important. But as she watched the polished auctioneer take the stage, a familiar unease coiled in her stomach. She had promised herself this would be a simple evening—show up, contribute, smile at the right moments, and slip out before anything could get too personal. But even as she’d repeated that mantra all day, she could feel the weight of the evening pressing.

The thought of being bid on, of standing under the spotlight while strangers sized her up like an item on display, made her skin prickle. It wasn’t just nerves, it was something deeper, an apprehension that clung to her. Her twenty-five years of life had taught her hard lessons. Lessons which had her carefully guarding her heart, keeping people at a distance where it was safe. Because opening up…that led to expectations. To disappointments. To the kind of vulnerability that left scars. Connections that left people tangled in feelings they couldn’t afford were no longer her thing. So why did she suddenly feel like she was standing on the edge of something unpredictable?
The auction began, and she forced herself to focus, plastering a polite smile on her face. The first few names were called, their bids rose with enthusiastic applause. She clapped along, nodding at acquaintances, pretending the tension wasn’t building in her chest.
Then her name was announced.
Ladi swallowed hard as she stepped onto the stage, her heart hammering against her ribs. The lights were warmer than she’d expected, casting a golden glow over the room, making it impossible to pick out individual faces. A murmur rippled through the crowd, and she told herself it didn’t matter. This was just one night.
Then, a deep, confident voice cut through the noise. “Ten thousand dollars.”
The room quieted.
Her breath caught.
She followed the sound, her eyes landing on a man leaning back in his chair with an ease that contradicted the certainty in his voice. The spotlight flickered over his sharp features, his dark eyes steady on hers, unreadable yet undeniably intrigued.
Ladi was still fairly new in town, but she was certain she hadn’t seen him before. Then again, his name wasn’t an immediate concern, as long as her charity got the money. The auctioneer confirmed the bid, and the final gavel strike echoed throughout the hall. Applause rippled through the crowd, but Ladi barely registered it. Something about the way he looked at her, as if he saw beyond the polished exterior she presented to the world, sent a jolt of awareness down her spine. Whoever he was, he had just bought an evening of her time.
She should have felt relief. The auction was over, and she could finally step off the stage, retreating behind the carefully constructed walls she had spent years perfecting. But as the man who had claimed the highest bid rose to greet her, extending a hand with a knowing smile, relief was the last thing she felt. Her gaze flickered over him, taking in his tall, broad-shouldered frame clad in a charcoal suit that fit him with effortless precision. The crisp fabric only accentuated his commanding presence. Chestnut brown curls, styled with careful intent, framed a face marked by sharp angles and quiet confidence. A single streak of gray cut through his hair — a subtle, distinguished contrast that hinted at experience, maturity. Power.

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