Sweeter Than Honey

( 119 )

Overview

Lace St. Thomas operates Immaculate Perception, a hot Vegas firm that pairs wealthy clients with sexy female escorts. But when one of her most requested girls turns up dead, Lace knows she’s in real danger.

Renaming herself Honey Thomas, she flees to Atlanta to start a new life. But her past is not so easily left behind, and it will take everything Honey has to flip this bad-news script and fight to save everything she’s worked for.

...
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Overview

Lace St. Thomas operates Immaculate Perception, a hot Vegas firm that pairs wealthy clients with sexy female escorts. But when one of her most requested girls turns up dead, Lace knows she’s in real danger.

Renaming herself Honey Thomas, she flees to Atlanta to start a new life. But her past is not so easily left behind, and it will take everything Honey has to flip this bad-news script and fight to save everything she’s worked for.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780758215123
  • Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corporation
  • Publication date: 6/25/2013
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 288
  • Sales rank: 363,494
  • Product dimensions: 5.90 (w) x 8.90 (h) x 0.70 (d)

Meet the Author

Mary B. Morrison is the New York Times bestselling author of Who's Loving You, When Somebody Loves You Back, Nothing Has Ever Felt Like This, Somebody's Gotta Be On Top, He's Just a Friend, Never Again Once More, Soul Mates Dissipate, Who's Making Love, and Justice, Just Us, Just Me. She's also the co-author of She Ain't the One with New York Times bestselling author Carl Weber. Mary lives in Oakland, California. Her son, Jesse Byrd, Jr., is pursuing his vision to play in the NBA. Jesse is currently red-shirting with the UC Santa Barbara men's basketball team.

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Read an Excerpt

Sweeter than Honey
By MARY B. MORRISON
DAFINA BOOKS Copyright © 2007 Mary B. Morrison
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-7582-1512-3



Chapter One Lace

"You're never going to be more than a trifflin', lyin' lil' slut! You make me sick! My God, I wish I woulda followed my first mind and aborted your ass instead of listening to that deadbeat lying-ass motherfuckin' daddy of yours. I can't believe you up in here under my nose tryna fuck my man! Why can't you be more like your sister? Get out of my house and this time stay the hell out!" were the last words I'd heard my mother say before she slammed the door in my face.

Was she referring to my baby sister? The golden can-do-no-wrong child?

What had I done this time?

It wasn't my fault that on my sixteenth birthday, my mother's fiancé saw in me what most men saw: a young, cute, innocent face, a firm, cellulite-free ass, perfect, plump, perky tits, and long legs stacked with a virgin cherry that they desperately wanted to burst. Well, he wasn't positive about the virgin part until his hard calluses, dirty hands, and jagged fingernails slipped inside my pink panties. His stale morning hadn't-brushed-his-yellowish-brown-teeth breath exhaled in my face as he squatted in front of my pussy. He poked, probed, gazed up at me, smiled, and then said, "Aw, man. You really are a preemie," kissing my virgin lips while checking twice for confirmation.

"Ow, you're hurting me," I said, shoving his forehead. As I crossed my legs, the scratches on my kitty stung worse than paper cuts.

That incident happened over thirteen years ago, but psychologically it hurts like he violated me yesterday. To this day I can't stand men with dirty or rough hands or bad breath or yellow teeth.

"I'ma tell Mama," my sister had said, standing in the doorway, covering her big mouth.

I snapped, "Stch. Go tell Mama 'cause I ain't do nothing wrong!"

Truth was I was very afraid, fearing Mama would side with Don and Honey. The only reason I'd let him find out I was untouched was that my mama constantly accused me of being a whore and a slut, so I wanted to prove her wrong. My sister was the fast one, sneaking boys into her room after Mama went to sleep, going to jail for petty theft, and staying out all night on the weekends smoking weed.

With any reason not to feed us or to have the house to herself with Don, Mama didn't care where we went or how long we stayed. I guess my being the opposite of my sister hanging around the house reading books or listening to music most of the time invaded Mama's privacy.

Don's eyes widened. He swiftly sucked air into his mouth, snapping his head toward Honey. When he pushed me, I fell to the floor screaming, "Mama!"

My mother, Rita, raced into the family room, bypassing Honey. Rita stared down at me. Hatred narrowed her eyes that never blinked. I spread my legs, hoping she could see what Don had done to me. This was my chance to have him confess he was wrong and confirm I was pure. But he didn't. I lay there trying to figure out why a grown man would take advantage of a minor and why my mother would let him.

Sinking into the gray carpet, I felt my ignorance giving me away to the streets when my mother deemed me competition as opposed to her little girl. True, most times I was guilty of something, but not trying to have sex with my mother's man or the boys I went to Flagstaff High School with.

My heart exploded like a bomb when Mama believed her husband-to-be's words, "Rita, get rid of her ... your tramp of a daughter just offered me her pussy," over mine. "Mama, I swear I didn't, he's lying. He stuck his finger between my legs. Go on, tell 'em I'm a virgin. Honey, you saw him. Tell Mama what he did," I cried, spreading my legs wider this time. Instantly I'd become a casualty of compassion.

Before my sister answered, the strands of my ponytail wrapped around my mother's fist. Content that he was out of the spotlight, Don sat on the sofa with his lint-filled Afro and sagging gut gargling beer like mouthwash while fingering the remote, flipping through channels like nothing was happening. Instead of helping me, Honey bent toward the floor, grabbing my white ankle socks. The tip of my brand-new tennis shoe slammed against her chin, knocking Honey on her ass.

It was an accident. I'd never done anything to hurt my sister. Honey was the only sibling I had.

Angrily, Mama dragged me faster. The rug beneath my butt felt like a flaming match frying through my skin. Frantically kicking the air, I yelled all the way to the door, "Bitch! Let me go! Grab his fuckin' ass!" I peeled my fingers from the door hinge, barely escaping the slam!

That wasn't my first time getting thrown out of the house, but it was my last time calling my mother what I'd wanted to call her for a long time. She was a bitch. Why I'd gotten kicked out every other month since I'd grown unusually large breasts twice the cup-size of my mother's and sister's put together, I didn't know. How could my mother carry me for nine months, birth me, then despise me for being molested by her man?

Dressed in pink shorts, and a white shirt with a pink cat on the front, I stood outside the door for fifteen minutes praying my mother would open it. When she didn't, I knew better than to bang on Rita's door. The smell of Mama frying Sunday morning bacon and baking homemade buttermilk biscuits made me hungry. Surely Rita would slide me a plate or a slice of my birthday cake so I wouldn't have to walk down the street to the Sunshine Rescue Mission.

I waited in vain, drifting off into thoughts about attending my first day of school tomorrow, celebrating with all the seniors, and getting my driver's license in the mail. Within seconds all of my hopes of becoming the youngest valedictorian had become dismal. I sat on the steps watching the heat waves float through the hot air in Flagstaff, Arizona. Our small town was a short drive from the Grand Canyon, where lots of tourists came to see one of the seven natural wonders of the world. As a homeless child, I felt like the eighth wonder that no one cared about. People drove by me waving but all of them kept going.

Sitting alone on the steps gave me lots of time to daydream about the big city with bright lights. I'd heard lots of neighbors and students rave about Las Vegas, but I'd never been there. I heard that pretty girls made lots of money simply because they were cute like me. Vegas was over a hundred miles away from my house, too far for me to travel alone with no money.

The orange sunrays traded places with the blue moonlight. Gazing up at the stars, I questioned why I'd fallen into a bottomless pit so young, so innocent, and so afraid. Cursed for being beautiful, I slept on the ugly concrete porch until the break of dawn. The crackling of the front door startled me as I sadly looked up into my mother's piercing brown eyes.

"Mama, please, I'm sorry. If it'll make you feel better, I'll stay in my room after school whenever he's here, I promise."

Desperately seeking my mother's forgiveness, I apologized for Don's faults. I had no place else to go. Not permanently. With her silver spiked heels, my mother stepped on me like a doormat and kept walking as if I were invisible: incapable of being seen.

Years later, at times I still felt I wasn't perceptive to the human eye. Funny how back then I thought I was grown until I had to make it on my own. Over the past decade, I'd learned a lot about being a woman, not necessarily the easy way.

In my opinion, ninety-five percent of all women were abused at some point during their lifetime by their mothers, their fathers, their husbands, their boyfriends, strangers on the prowl seeking a rape victim or in my case all of the above. Living on the streets convinced me that the five percent who weren't abused died at birth. If only I could've been so lucky.

My sister to this day still lives at home with our mother. An old high school acquaintance said Honey was dying of some rare form of cancer and that I was Honey's closest possible match for a donor. Was that God's way of paying my mother back? They didn't need me then and I don't need them now.

After my mother kicked me out I would've gone to live with my dad, but we never knew our father. And the way I saw it, any man who'd abandon his children was the worst type of abuser. Forget that lame bullshit about the mother keeping him away. I swore I was never having kids. My daddy had a choice! He could've fought for joint custody, weekends, supervised visitation, something. Anything was better than nothing. The one time we asked about our father, our mom cursed us out.

"Jean St. Thomas's green-eyed, slick-haired red ass ain't shit! Never was shit! Ain't never gon' be shit! Sorry-ass son of a bitch ain't never paid one damn dime to help me take care of y'all and if you ask me about him again I'ma beat y'all's ass! Now, get out of my face!" Then she mumbled, "That good-for-nothing-but-a-wet-dream bastard better not ever call me again asking to see y'all."

Daddy wanted to see us?

My green eyes filled with tears at the thought that my mother hated me but wouldn't let my daddy love me. I guess I was light-skinned with straight hair like my father, because my mom and sister had skin like dark brown sugar and hair equally coarse.

Whatever, I didn't need any of them. I was fine. Honestly I was. But it still hurts that after all these years Mama never inquired about where I was until Honey got sick. Mama didn't care if I never came back. If she could suction my marrow through a straw over the phone, she would do so, then hang up in my face without saying thanks. Maybe one day I'd go back to her in my white-on-white or my black-on-black Jaguar and show her how successful I'd become.

I still blamed and will never forgive my mother for the life I was forced to live after being kicked out. As an involuntarily high school dropout, I'd hitchhiked and moved in with my instant twenty-three-year-old boyfriend who brutally stole my virginity, then yelled at my ass every other day like he was bipolar. He had me so screwed up in the head I jumped every time he spoke. I'd leave the house and forget to put on my shoes. I'd pour orange juice on his cereal instead of milk because I was so afraid he'd beat me if I didn't get him what he wanted fast enough. After six months together, I slept in the doghouse that was inside the garage just to stay out of the way of his fists.

At seventeen I ran away and married only what I could describe as Charles Manson's offspring. Brutally he stomped my ass daily, I think either for his amusement or for his daily thirty-minute workout. The reason I stayed was, once again, I didn't have any place to go, nor did I have any money. That was another lesson learned.

Men controlled women by making women dependent upon them for everything from food and clothes to shelter. So for an entire year, if my husband had a bad day, I had a worse night. But what I did have was enough sense to realize if I didn't find the courage to escape, one day a coroner would carry me out in a body bag and deliver me to Rita's, only for her to write return to sender on my toe tag.

Before leaving his ass I stole a blowup doll, inflated it, then doused his bed and the doll with six gallons of ketchup mixed with two gallons of gasoline, praying his ass would light one last cigarette.

I went to a pleasure store and stole four dildos that looked exactly like his dick, hiding them under my skirt. The first dick I chopped off the head with a butcher's knife, then sliced the shaft into tiny confetti-sized pieces and left the plastic floating in his toilet. The second one I set on fire on top of his gas-burning stove and left it there with a tent card that read last meal. The third one I ground in his blender on PUREE until the motor shot bluish red sparks into the smoky air. And the fourth one I poured fire-red fingernail polish over the head, watched it bleed down the sides, then drilled an ice pick into the piss hole and left it on his doorstep with a note, Fuck and beat this, you piece of shit! If you come after me, your motherfuckin' dick is next! I guarantee it!

Needless to say I never heard from him again. Hopefully because he'd flicked that lighter and burned to death. If by some misfortune he was alive, his cruel abusive ass probably thought I was the crazy one.

On my eighteenth birthday, I moved into the Pussyland Ranch and didn't move out until I was twenty-nine and went to work for Valentino James as a madam. Eleven grueling years on my back with my legs spread open was no easy feat, but where could I earn decent money with no diploma? After fucking a different john every day during my first three years at Pussyland, I became the top-requested girl. The high demand allowed me to establish a regular clientele, granting myself two days on and two days off. On holidays my nonnegotiable rate of three hundred dollars an hour tripled.

Working for Valentino helped me maintain my sanity and gave my body a much-needed rest. Instantly my twelve female escorts depended on me, and in return I relied upon them for my five-figure monthly paycheck. I especially counted on my personal favorite, Sunny Day.

There was something special about Sunny. Something beyond her striking beauty. Something deeper than her almond-shaped eyes that beamed rays of light. Sunny was unique. She was young, vibrant, and enthusiastic about life. Sunny possessed the passion I lacked, and although she didn't know it, in many ways she'd helped me. I wasn't there yet, but occasionally I felt the desire to genuinely care about her and the other girls I'd hired. Kinda like how I wished my mother would've loved me. Sunny didn't have an old soul; she had a wise spirit beyond her years. Always happy, motivating the other girls, and willing to work extra hard to please her clients. Sunny's invincible, indispensable take-charge leadership personality reminded me of myself when I first started prostituting.

For me, prostitution provided a much-needed clean and safe place to live off of the hot, sweltering, or freezing snow-covered streets of Nevada. I wasn't always cold and callous. My God, I hoped Sunny didn't end up like me. She wouldn't. Tonight I'd decided Valentino could take Onyx or Starlet off the circuit for himself, but at the end of the month, three days from now, I was firing Sunny for her own good. Sunny needed to do what I couldn't ... go home to a mother and father who loved her.

It was too late for me. I'd been in the game so long I didn't know how to get out. Didn't know what else I'd do. I'd been mentally, physically, sexually, spiritually, financially, you name it, taken advantage of. The only thing left for someone to take was my life and that's what was not going to happen without a fight. Whether I'd win or lose didn't matter to me as long as I never again voluntarily allowed anyone to beat me. I'd paid my dues. In some ways I was stronger. In many ways, wiser. Now it was my turn to take control of my life.

Abuse damaged me. Abuse was not cute and it took me a while to learn that abuse was not love. The next man who laid hands on Lace St. Thomas was one dead motherfucka.

Chapter Two Lace

Day one of the seventy-two-hour countdown to Sunny's freedom, I envisioned Mommy sitting on the front row before a naughty professor raising her hand instead of spreading her legs to make a good impression. Sunny had the prettiest pussy of all my girls. The first time I peeled open her outer lips, I saw her slim pinkish shaft extending down to a mocha-ridged flap exposing a succulent pierced clitoris.

"Did this hurt?" I recalled asking while I teased the silver bar with pea-sized balls on both ends.

"Yes, Madam. Hell yes." Her wide smile flashed perfectly aligned teeth. "But it feels nice now, Madam. I like it. I have my own set of balls and they sure do drive men crazy."

Sunny started playing with her own pussy and she never flinched when I French-kissed her.

"Tell me why I should hire you?" I'd asked her, applying a drop of gel to my fingertip. Teasing her clit in a slow circular motion, I dripped another drop onto the bar, gliding my finger back and forth.

She smiled, held my hand, then slid my middle finger inside her incredibly hot, tight, juicy pussy, and replied, "Tell me why you shouldn't hire me, Madam."

Well, over my incredible year of being Sunny's boss, I had fallen in love with more than her personality. She was amazingly flawless. I could've waived Sunny's body inspection that day but I didn't. I couldn't resist experiencing the rest of her. Caressing her plump breasts, kissing her protruding nipples, massaging her firm ass, then putting her through my multiple orgasm tests-fucking her with a nine-inch dildo while finger-fucking her in the ass and savoring her sweet pussy with my tongue all at the same time-I'd come hard. Twice.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from Sweeter than Honey by MARY B. MORRISON Copyright © 2007 by Mary B. Morrison. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 119 )
Rating Distribution

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(57)

4 Star

(22)

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(19)

2 Star

(12)

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(9)

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 123 Customer Reviews
  • Posted February 8, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    DANG!!!!!

    This book was so good... I actually bought the third book in the series first and when I realized it was a series, i put it to the side and ordered the other 2. I am so glad that I did!!!!! This book was exciting and full of quick turns... Enjoy!

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted November 22, 2008

    Not my cup of tea

    I did not like this one. It was straight porn! I mean, I like to read a little sexy scene every now and then, but this was ridiculous. This was the first M. Morrison book I have read and I'm sure it will be the last. The book had too many coincidences that made it hard to believe.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted May 29, 2008

    WHYYYYYY

    Mary i feel as though you slipin' because this book just isnt pulling me in like 'he's just a friend' i want you next book to be just as good as the others and im not telling you i hate it its just not working for me i mean no harm. with love tearria one of your fans

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted February 18, 2008

    great

    She did it again. I loved reading about Fancy and Darius and now I am going to enjoy following the lives of these characters. Keep up the good work. The book is great

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 28, 2007

    Highly Dissappointed!!!!

    Ok, I am a huge Mary B Morrison fan, but I was highly dissappointed with the first book from the Honey diaries. It seems like parts of the book were dragged out and then parts did not have enough detail. I just could not get into it. It took me almost 2 weeks to read while her other books only took like 2 days. I pray the next book is better!!!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 12, 2012

    AWFUL READ

    I could not for the life of me continue reading this book. Its horrible beyond words and honestly extremely disgusting to read. Dont waste your time.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted August 11, 2012

    Aweful!!

    It seems that every time I read a book from Mary at least one character is CRAZY! I read novels to escape from reading about murders, rapist, prostitution, etc. This is the last time I will read a book from her again.

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  • Posted June 27, 2012

    I'VE ALREADY READ THIS WHOLE SERIES & YES MARY B. MORRISON I

    I'VE ALREADY READ THIS WHOLE SERIES & YES MARY B. MORRISON IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE AUTHORS I LOVED THIS BOOK & THE OTHERS IN THIS SERIES.. I DO RECOMMEND

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 23, 2011

    Not bad

    This was my first M. Morrison book. Once I got over the initial shock of the language and graphic sex scenes the story line wasn't bad. I did find it hypocritical how Honey had an issue with men exploiting women and hurting them, but here she was a Madam doing the same thing. Some scenes were pointless, but I figure the author had to throw something in there. I might read the next installment, but in no hurry to go and buy it.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 6, 2011

    This book was sooooo GOOD!!!

    I could'nt put this book down. I just couldnt wait to see what has going to happen next. I will continue to read the journey of Ms. Honey St. Thomas.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 6, 2011

    Pretty Good

    I am a HUGE fan of MBM! After her first series she had me hooked so I was hoping the second would be just as good. It's not the first series but it is a good read... needless to say she has me interested once again.

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  • Posted April 22, 2011

    DON'T BUY

    freebie or lender. Weak story

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted February 23, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    Good Read

    I loved it just wished it could have ended differently hoping for a part 2

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted February 7, 2011

    Very good read.

    I was still hoping that Sunny was still alive., but all in all the book was a good read. I just kept reading and could not put it down. This is my 2nd book by Mary Morrison and I must say that I have gotten my money worth. Great job keep the good books rolling

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted June 10, 2009

    i'm loving everything she writes

    I've read several of Mary's books...I love every one.She keeps your full attention . Also, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be a part of these characters world.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted October 16, 2008

    I Also Recommend:

    A Great Read

    This book was fun to read. An interesting story that makes you want to be there. If you like drama, then this book is for you. Believe me you will finish this book in record time.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 8, 2008

    Sweeter Than Honey was just that - Great!

    This was a great book. It had me at the beginning. I can't wait to read the next book in the series. If you are looking for a great read, look no further. This is it.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 25, 2008

    OMG! HERE WE GO AGAIN

    i love this book!it was a page turner 4 real! mary really out done herself! go head girl

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 31, 2008

    Outstanding!!!

    Mary has done it again!! This book is outstanding. I really enjoyed it and I recommend it to everyone. I cant wait to read the sequel!

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 11, 2008

    Keeping it real

    If it isn't broke, why fix it. True Mary B. Morrison. Took me three days to finish Sweeter than Honey. I was not disappointed. This book had me slacking off at work i could not put it down. i have been a reader of Mary's books since i read Soul mate and Never Never. I found out this year that those two books were part of a series had several on my book shelve and did not realized. i have completed all seven plus she ain't the one. I hope i don't have to wait years to read the rest of the series of Sweeter than Honey. I want to see Lace/Honey next move like yesterday. I throughly enjoyed this book...CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEXT ONE!

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 123 Customer Reviews

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