Chasing Destiny
Eric Jerome Dickey
Language: English
Pages: 432
ISBN: 052594950X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Eight-time New York Times bestselling author Eric Jerome Dickey’s new novel is filled with intrigue, speed, and sex appeal. And an unforgettable female narrator rides her sexy yellow motorcycle right through it all.
Billie (aka "Ducati") is known as much for her extraordinary beauty as for the sexy yellow motorcycle she rides through the mean streets of Los Angeles. Tough, talented, and self-assured, Billie's used to doing things her way—but that was before love threw an oil slick in the road and spun her life into chaos.
Billie's first problem is simple: she's pregnant.
Her second problem is that her lover, Keith, is still married.
Keith has some "things" to deal with, and the people in his life are dark and duplicitous enough to take matters into their own hands, determined to keep Billie from having her baby. Billie suddenly finds herself confronted, attacked, run off highways, threatened and shadowed. Keith still has ties to his manipulative wife, Carmen, and he adores his fifteen-year-old daughter Destiny. Will he do the right thing by his new family, or stand by his old one?
Soon all eyes shift as everyone finds themselves desperately chasing Destiny, a troubled and deceptive girl dancing on the edge of womanhood. When the rubber meets the road, everyone's fighting dirty for what they want...and they're all willing to destroy their enemy or go down in flames to get it.
Child support won’t be an issue. She’ll have to pay me back for all those years of paying for her to go to law school.” “And like I said to you before, what do I do until then? Destiny is fifteen. What do I do for the next three years?” “Sue me for child support. I’m not working, but they will look at household income. So they will garnish Carmen’s check. Play the system the way she plays the system. It’s win-win for both of us.” “So you want me to take Carmen’s money?” “To support my child,
them at Starbucks last night. The cool girls in the sexy clothes who did crazy stunts on their motorcycles. One motorcycle was down. Middle of the street. Wrecked real bad. Not pretty anymore. Feet away from the motorcycle was a BMW, the passenger side damaged. Skid marks all over the street. Somebody had hit somebody real abrupt and real hard. Police were talking to a white woman, the driver of the BMW, Destiny assumed. That woman was frantic, pointing at the bikers in a very accusatory
would defend me like that . . . the man kicked ass. I mean, he had those punks running to get up out of there. He was hitting those fools like he was Mike Tyson.” “Mike Tyson?” “The original Mike Tyson, not that I-give-up and let-me-put-some-ketchup-on-your-ear Mike Tyson. I’m talking the beat-Leon-Spinks-into-retirement-in-under-two-minutes Mike Tyson.” Hearing her say that made me realize how Keith had never dropped everything for me. Keith told me he loved me, but in the end he never
book.” He smiled at me. A soft and sincere smile. Then he sipped his latte and started talking. Raheem. Exotic man. From South America. Born in Tegucigalpa. Carmen. Beautiful woman. Descendant of the islands. Lovers. No. Former lovers. We sat at our bistro table. Starbucks coming alive. More bikers pulling up, some leaving. Outside in the gentle breeze, the strip mall decorated with palm trees. Poets in one area. Chess players were congregated on the side of building between the parking
being the tether for their misery. She’d never stop thinking about that phone call. Never. She didn’t feel bad about invading her parents’ privacy. The only way she got the truth in her house was by stealing it. “Destiny?” Her mother’s sweet and raspy voice brought her back to the here and now, stole her away from that memory. Her mother owned a subtle, victorious smile. They were speeding down Stocker, doing at least eighty down the four-lane corridor that separated View Park from Baldwin