Teaser Tuesday: No appearance of wrong-doing
On Tuesdays, I tease a back list project or upcoming release. Today is the second tease for my 2025 release, Calculated Risk.
I’m sharing more of my next project, Calculated Risk. It’s COMPLETE (unedited)!
I’m wildly excited for you all to meet my hero Desmond Taylor and my heroine Imani Thatcher in 2025. Enjoy the tease and keep your eyes and ears open for more on this project, including a cover reveal and eventual release details.
xoxo,
DL White
Read last week’s tease:
Blurb (work-in-progress)
Imani's world is turned upside down when her lover suddenly dies and she discovers he had been married the entire time they were together. Reeling from the deception, she attends his funeral looking for closure, only to be confronted by Julian's widow. Imani realizes she barely knew the man she thought she loved.
Looking to pick up the pieces, Imani reluctantly agrees to teach financial literacy at a youth center as part of a work requirement. There, she meets the ruggedly handsome director, Desmond, whose steely guard of his past intrigues her immediately.
Despite their very different backgrounds, Imani and Desmond share an undeniable connection. But Desmond remains wary, still haunted by the injustices of his past. As their feelings grow, Imani helps Desmond heal old wounds. He introduces Imani to his world and she shows him grace can come from forgiveness.
However, just when the future looks bright, outside forces threaten all they’ve built. Will the risks they took on love lead to healing, or more heartbreak?
Afternoons at Bright Pathways Youth Center were never calm.
The renovated community center, once a crumbling and dilapidated building, now hummed with the energy of At Risk teens seeking a safe haven. The single story structure was a sanctuary for those who were often overlooked by the world.
As the clock struck three- thirty, the front door of the center burst open, letting in a group of rowdy young men fresh from the outdoor basketball courts. In the lounge, reserved for the older center attendees, chaos reigned. Laughter, teasing and conversation mixed with the scent of pizza.
The pool table in the corner was surrounded by a group of girls, their giggles and shouts competing with the blaring TV on the opposite wall. A few lone souls sat at the tables, hunched over books or laptops, trying to drown out the noise.
“Alright, alright, alright everybody!” Desmond’s baritone voice cut through the chatter like a hot knife through butter. He pointed a remote at the TV, silencing it. “Have a seat. Let’s get started.”
He dragged a chair to the semi circle of mismatched, worn couches. The group eagerly settled on the cushions, balancing paper plates piled high with cheesy pizza and cups overflowing with fizzy soda.
“How did everybody’s day go?” asked Desmond. His warm, brown eyes bounced around the circle as he waited for responses. After a few moments of pronounced chewing, a stocky young man raised a hand.
“You ain’t gotta raise your hand, Caleb,” joked another group member. “Just go, man.”
“Caesar is right. You don’t have to raise your hand,” Desmond corrected, then nodded at Caleb. “Talk to me.”
“A’ight, so boom. In Econ, our teacher is always talking about life shit. Like… how much eggs cost and the minimum wage. I was just thinking that like… I don’t know what the fu—heck he’s talking about, man.”
After a brief bout of giggling, Desmond replied. “First of all, you don’t have to censor yourself in here. This place is for you, about you. You heard me?”
“A’ight, then. I don’t know what the fuck Mr. Lawson be talking about.”
“And that’s concerning to you? To all of you?” Desmond scanned the room again, observing the nods. “So… why do you think this group, out of all of the kids that come here every day, were selected to meet with me?”
“We’re your favorites?” Someone tossed out.
“Try again.”
A few shrugs, then a mumbled, “I don’t know,” filled the silence.
“Caleb, how old are you?”
“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in the spring.”
“Okay. Caesar?”
“Seventeen.”
“Deja?”
“I just turned seventeen,” she replied.
Desmond fixed his gaze on the newest addition to their group. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Chloe,” she replied.
“And how old are you?” Desmond probed further.
“Seventeen,” Chloe responded.
“Hmm.” Desmond shifted to lean his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “What else do you have in common? And at eighteen what happens to each of you?”
“We’re all in foster care,” Caleb replied. “And we get kicked off the government’s tit.”
The room erupted into laughter. “That’s pretty much it,” said Desmond. “Even if you have great foster parents, once you reach a certain age, they stop receiving financial support from the government to care for you. They might not even have enough space in their home, especially if they want to take in another child.”
Desmond paused and stood, sliding his hands into the pockets of loose cut jeans. “It’s important that you know how to manage your life if you end up in a situation where you have to support yourself. You need to know these life skills that your teacher refers to. So…”
He walked to the desk shoved into the corner of the room and picked up a yellow legal pad and a pen. “This group is about crowdsourcing the concerns you might have about life after foster care. You tell me what you need and I’ll work with the community to hook you up. Whether it’s about applying for jobs, basic cooking tips, looking for an apartment, how to pick a good roommate…whatever you feel like you need to know before you’re out of the system, we’ll use this group to find the answers.”
He leaned against the desk and scanned the room again. “So lay it on me. What do you want to know? What do you need to know before you’re out there on your own?”
The group was silent for a moment, the weight of their upcoming independence hanging heavily in the air. Then Deja spoke up, her voice softer than usual. “What if we don’t even know what we need to know?”
“I’d say you sound like most of us adults,” Desmond replied. “On top of that, realizing that you don’t know shit about shit is real stressful. Isn’t it Caleb?’
“You ain’t even lyin’,” said Caleb, his brows riding high on his forehead.
“Okay, so.. what’s the first thing we’re adding to this list?”
“Well…” Chloe piped up. “I have a little weekend job and a savings account but I want to know more about how to manage money. I want to get my own apartment and I want to know what I might have to pay for, cause I know it’s a hell of a lot more to pay than rent.”
“Alright, so we need to find someone who can teach you about checking and savings accounts, and how to budget expenses as an independent young adult.”
“Why can’t you just teach us, Des?” Caesar asked. “We’re already here in this group. You run this place and you’re old. You must know stuff.”
Desmond was quiet for a long moment as he gazed at the group of teens on the cusp of adulthood in front of him. There were limits to the help he could provide.
“For reasons that I’m not going to get into,” he finally quietly replied, “I can’t. But I’ll find a person to help you.” The group exchanged unsure glances before Desmond continued. “In the meantime, let’s keep adding to our list of skills and knowledge that you’ll need to be a successful member of society.”
Deja, who had been quiet, spoke up again. “I want to know about school, like college stuff. Not just getting in, but how to pay for it. Scholarships, work-study, financial aid, grants.”
“Got it. Education opportunities and financial support for college,” Desmond scribbled across the notepad. “We can definitely get into that. What else?”
Together, the group developed a healthy list of skills and seminars to attend over the next few months. As the group disbursed, Desmond released a sigh that had long been pent up inside him. When the room was empty, he pulled his phone from a pocket, scrolled to a number and tapped it, then turned on the speaker and and set the phone down.
“Taylor,” said a crisp voice, backed by road noise. “I told you, you don’t have to check in, anymore. Your release is no longer supervised.”
Desmond grinned. “Ain’t nobody checking in with you, Gary. What you up to?”
“The usual. Regulatin’.”
Desmond laughed. “So, running down wayward parolees?”
“You know it. What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in a minute.”
“Well…” Desmond pushed out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve got this group here at the center. All kids about to turn eighteen and graduate high school—”
“And get kicked off the system.”
“Not all of them. Sometimes kids can get placed until they’re twenty-one but yeah… for most kids, eighteen is the line, especially if they’re not close with their foster parents. So this group meets once a week, and today they started asking about life skills stuff.”
“They’re asking you about life skills?”
“That’s why I’m calling you. I do alright for some topics but… they want advice on money management, checking accounts and I…I still feel uncomfortable on the subject of money.”
“Why? You did your time and your record is clear. Nothing in your case file says you can’t tell kids how to open a checking account.”
Desmond rubbed his forehead, feeling a familiar tension headache building. “I don’t even want to touch this. I don’t want any appearance of wrong-doing here. I was calling to see if you had a connect, someone who might come in for a few weeks and talk to the kids about personal finance.”
“I might know a few people,” said Gary. “I’ll make a phone call or two. Any money in it? If so, I’ll come teach it.”
“Nah,” Desmond answered. “This is strictly a volunteer position. Pizza for the group is a stretch, these days.”
“Let me work on it. I’ll get back to you. You talked to your brother lately?”
“No,” said Desmond with a heavy sigh. “And I don’t plan to.”
I try to create a Pinterest board for each of my books. Follow along as I build these characters into real people.
Books by DL White are steamy, snarky, seasoned romances that center Black love and relationships. Pick them up in eBook, print or audio at booksbydlwhite.com.
