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White Trash Beautiful

Author(s): Nichole Severn

 Trey Aston is hiding from the mob.

Desperate to save her life, she sells her body in order to make the monthly payments her father owes the mob, but when Trey discovers he hasn’t been making the payments, she’s forced to turn to the one man she hoped never to see again for help.

Deputy Luke Johnson refuses to acknowledge his high school sweetheart is a prostitute and is determined to make Trey see it for herself. Until she starts treating him as a client. His ability to know right from wrong is challenged and he isn’t the only one who’s noticed. The force doesn’t have his back where Trey is concerned, leaving him to fight against them for a criminal.

The Camino Family is out to make her pay, but what really has Trey on edge is the fact she has fallen for the deputy who wants her behind bars.


 Rough hands ripped Trey Aston from the car. She laced her hands behind her head as she’d been instructed with indifference. She’d been through all of this before. There were no surprises left for tonight. “Hi, Tucker,” she said with a smile.

Officer Tucker smiled back, but left her for his partner to question. In clipped tones, he ordered her john to get out of the driver’s seat.

“We weren’t doing anything!” her client shouted, but wouldn’t move without zipping up his pants first.

Big mistake.

He didn’t have a chance to move before one of Parkvista’s finest threw him face down onto the pavement. Tucker had the cuffs around her john’s wrists before the man could even get his breath back.

She barely gave him a glance as the red and blue lights crossed her vision, their movement almost hypnotic. She should have been more careful, should have known the gas station wasn’t a good place to take care of business. Wisps of frigid North Dakota air swept under her ragged, black, leather skirt and under the wife beater tank top. A shiver ran down her spine. It sure as hell hadn’t been the snow that brought her back. The whiskey did nothing to keep her warm.

“Trey, what the hell are you doing here?” Tucker’s partner asked. In a town occupied by less than two thousand citizens, everyone’s voice sounded familiar, but this one had a history of sending heat straight between her legs.

Trey tried to keep her breathing even as Officer Luke Johnson confronted her. Every memory of him flashed across her mind when he settled in front of her, and the officer’s uniform only made it worse. She’d ripped those buttons off countless times during their days together, ran her hands over each abdominal muscle. Now, it seemed she’d never have that chance again. Cops and prostitutes didn’t exactly make the perfect couples.

She couldn’t answer save for a curse that escaped her lips. He knew exactly what she’d been doing. Her hair most likely told the whole story along with the fact that her skirt had hiked itself up around her waist. Heat began to rise up her neck in frustration. She’d worked hard to avoid him. Now, however, she had nowhere to run. Trey’s heartbeat sped, her eyes darting left and right for a way out.

“Where are your condoms?”

She opened her mouth, the freezing air working down into her chest.

“That bitch came on to me! I didn’t know what she was doing!”

“Not that kind of date.” Trey could barely hold back a laugh, but the look in Luke’s eyes told her it would only make things worse. Her heart nearly skipped a beat as she stared back at him. She willed her breathing to even out and her head to stay in the game, but the over-the-limit blood alcohol level made it hard. “You going to arrest me this time?”

He motioned for her to turn around and she complied. Pulling her hands behind her back, Luke pushed her against the car.

“That tickles!” The laugh finally escaped, but her head spun.

His professional duties had him patting her down for weapons, but there wasn’t really a place to hide any. “You’re drunk.”

“Wouldn’t I have to be?” A few memories of those hands flashed across her eyelids and she bit into her lip as hard as possible as a distraction.

It didn’t cut it.

Luke had always gotten past her defenses. Mocha skin. Sharp jawline. Over six feet tall. Ripped over every delicious inch of his body. Her hands couldn’t even fit around his biceps, the muscles beneath tensing with every movement.

Trey knew about the last one from personal experience, but that had ended when she’d woken up and run off to Vegas. She’d never been one for proposals. Or so she told herself.

“Why you doing this?” he asked. He flipped her back around. His eyes flushed her concentration down the drain in that moment, the brown depths probing for the truth. “You’re going to catch something, or worse, end up dead.”

His question meant to bring some type of sobriety, but she’d had a lot to drink. “We’ve already had this conversation.” She didn’t want to have “the talk” again. Stumbling, she managed to keep her gaze on him steadily as she started at his feet and ended at his eyes, taking a few pit stops along the way. She pointed an index finger into his tense chest, eager to follow it with the rest of her body. “And unless you’re going to pay me to stay here, I’m going home.” She turned to leave, but he stopped her abruptly with a handcuff around her wrist.

“The answer’s yes,” Luke said. “I’m going to arrest you this time.”

An hour later she’d been processed, arraigned, given clothes to cover up with and locked in a cell. This little excursion had been the most fun she’d had in months. The eight-by-eight space smelled of urine and cigarettes and Trey forced herself to breathe as little as possible in fear of losing what little food she’d been able to scrounge up at the gas station. Unfortunately, the stench would go home with her. She mentally winced at the idea. Flashes of her makeshift bedroom in the junkyard crossed her mind, but even worse, the image of her father waiting for her return sent a shiver down her spine.

Her date for the night sat in the cell across from hers and they’d been having a staring contest for the past fifteen minutes when a door at the end of the corridor slammed shut. By the sound of it, Officer Luke Johnson had come to apologize. She couldn’t wait to hear his excuse this time.

“These belong to you?” he asked as he came around the corner. Luke held up something made of pink lace and black ribbon. Her panties. “Got ‘em out of his pocket.”

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ISBN (Print):
ISBN (Electronic): 978-1-927368-98-5
Date Published:
Publisher: Evernight Publishing

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