ANKARA PRESS PRESENTS – 6 new romances set in West Africa. OUT ON DEC 15TH !

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Ankara Press – coming soon. Six authors. Six stories. Six romances.

Are Nigerian men romantic? Subscribe to the website by clicking the link below to keep updated as the series launches on Dec 15th – to find out.

Look out for my digital novel – Loves Persuasion – one of the six due out.

Tony Okoli is the kind of guy you wont forget in a hurry. Ada Okafor however is trying to persuade herself that life has moved on since they parted……

Update on Ankara pre-launch at the Lagos Book and Art Fair last Saturday.

People have asked where they will be able to buy the Ankara e-books. The answer is that we will be selling directly from as soon as the site is launched, on December 15th. The ebooks will be available on all formats, including Kindle, but the only place that people will be able to buy them from at launch is So please spread the word and invite your friends to register their email details on the website now and we’ll mail them with details of the launch special offer price when the site goes live.


The Secret of good food is the company

Excerpt from my book coming out soon. To find out what Tony’s secret is ……watch this space!


What on earth was she doing in her boss’s flat at 9pm on a Friday night? How many women had he brought back to his house to wear the second terrycloth robe in the closet?

By the time she re-joined him in the kitchen she had collected her thoughts.

He faced her and she felt her heart beat faster at the broadness of his shoulders and the fact that he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong arms.

“Do you like Chinese?”

She nodded trying to feign confidence.

He doesn’t have to know that the last time I had a Chinese meal was last year when my Head of Department celebrated her 50th birthday at a plush hotel and invited the team.


She watched in amazement as he brought out vegetables and a frozen bag of prawns and put it on the kitchen surface.

Don’t tell me this guy is expecting me to cook his dinner?

“I can rustle up some prawn fried rice, if you’d like” He suggested.

“Yes, that would be nice.” Then to her delight he brought out a chopping board and started dicing the vegetables. She watched his deft movements with the knife.

“Don’t look so surprised. Some of us men know how to cook as well, you know.”

She smiled guiltily, realising that he had just read her mind. A man who could cook, who loved books, was kind, had a great sense of humour, and was handsome and loaded. He must be too good to be true.

Maybe he was? Maybe any minute he was going to grow three heads and do something monstrous.

She sat down on one of the tall leather-backed stools in the dining area and watched as he washed some rice into a pot and began to lightly fry the prawns.

“I studied abroad. If I didn’t know how to cook – I would have starved.”

The smell of fried spices assailed her senses and she turned her attention back to him as he fried the rice, spices, prawns and vegetables in a large pan, adding some soy sauce, thyme, curry and stock cubes as he worked.

She watched him mesmerised, knowing that she could have sat there all night.

“Well done. You are a very good cook.”

“Thanks.” He got two plates and served them and instead of sitting in his large dining room they took the plates to the sitting room and sat on the big comfortable sofa to love jpg

New book out by Stella Eromonsere-Ajanaku

Fellow romance writer, Stella Eromonsere-Ajanaku,

(Creator/Author Flirty & Feisty Romance Novelshas a new novel out titled: Kiss My Lips!Check out the cover and please visit the sites below to find out more about it and follow Stella on Twitter too!

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Our promise…is to deliver an intensely emotional experience you will never forget.




Amazon Author Page:

Brown Eyes – excerpt from my work in progress

black-woman-thinkingHe seemed a bit self conscious as he brought out a piece of paper.

“I wrote a poem. Pardon me – its probably rubbish, but I will share it anyway. Its about this woman I’m interested in.” He took a breath and picked up a glass of water.

He took the mike and took his first step of faith into the unknown.

Brown eyes full of secrets.

Pain. Locked deep inside

Sweet lips that promise honey have tasted bitterness.

I don’t know who messed you up and tied you up inside, into little bits of fear and doubt.

Your heart is hard, a barren place.

I only want a chance to make you feel again, make you come alive.

Come out of the shadows

Give me a chance to know you

In my dreams I hold you in my arms

Hear you whisper my name

Telling me that you love me

Then I wake up and you push me away

Lola stared ahead, unmoved.

Nice words that’s all they were words. Empty words. Men were good at that.

Annabel was clapping away.

“Oooh….I wish I was this Brown eyes. Phew! ” She started fanning herself.

People got up and clapped.

Lewis stood up and bowed, looking slightly embarrassed and self conscious.

Despite her cynicism, Lola had heard the passion and feeling in his voice as he delivered the poetry and found herself wondering which the woman that had elicited such an outpouring of emotion from a man who never showed any emotion. Except when it came to work then he would be quick to let you know, that he did not tolerate anything but excellent work ethics.

Who was she?

What kind of a woman could pierce that ‘hard-man’ exterior he wore like a cloak.

Why did she even care?

She could see him making his way through the dimly lit room, pausing to shake some peoples hands. The women seemed to be really keen to show their appreciation. She felt it was so pathetic.

She pushed back her chair and got up before she said something extremely sarcastic and spoiled the mood. It was clear the women were all drooling over the poem, and him or maybe both and it was boring her out of her mind. If she left early enough she could get some marking out of the way.

“I’m going to go now. Got a terrible headache.” she lied.

Annabel looked worried. ” Oh. Are you sure you are ok to go by yourself?”

Lola nodded slipping her coat over her jeans and casual smart blouse. Her legs couldn’t carry her fast enough as she headed towards the door. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned round.


Lewis didn’t exactly look pleased to see her.

His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. Running a hand over his head, wondering what was going through her mind. He was relieved that she fixed him with a blank stare.

She didn’t have a clue. Didn’t know how he felt .

“Miss Adesoya?”

She shrugged. “Its my first time.”

He seemed to be digesting this.

“Hope you had a good time.”

She shrugged.

He looked at his watch. ” Well….see you at work.”

She nodded.

She manoeuvred her way through the crowd and left.


Lewis drove home, lost in his own thoughts.

It had been a bad idea. He should never had shared his thoughts in that poem. It had been stupid, thoughtless…presumptuous.

He was a creative person. He had started jotting his random thoughts down and paper and found out that he was writing poetry and people said it was good. He started testing his stuff out at performance poetry nights and no one laughed or said it was awful.

He had written the poem on the night he had dropped her off at home. That was the night he had spent thinking about her, wondering why she was so prickly and unapproachable. The night where every attempt he had made to try and get to know her better, had been met by a stony wall of resistance, even suspicion.

Seeing her in the club had really jolted him, but from her response he could see that she hadn’t realised that the poem had been written with her in mind.

It would have ruined any kind of chances he was hoping to have in the future.

His lips curved. Talk about presumptuous. What even made him think she would be interested in him anyway – let alone of standing a chance with her?

Well. A guy could hope.

He shook his head as he turned on Smooth Jazz FM and let the mellow music work on his anxious mind.

Lessons in love contd.

Next morning at breakfast it was business as usual.  He talked about his work and the fact that his father wanted to see him that weekend. There was no mention about the argument of the night before or how the night had ended.  He had been like someone who was possessed, there had been no tenderness or love in what had taken place between them. Afterwards, she had listened to him snoring as she cried herself to sleep.

She ate silently, hardly looking up as he handed her a small white envelope.

“Open that and sign it.”

She opened it and saw a neatly typed out resignation letter, suposedly written by her.


“I know what is best for you. I want to protect you.”

“I cant ….if you love wouldnt ask me to”

He got up from the table and went to close the door, then came back to the table and continued drinking his tea. There was a smile lurking on his handsome face.

“You dont know me, do you?”

She stared at him.

“You should know me well enough to know that I always get what I want.” he leaned back in his chair watching the way her eyes widened as  she as her haands gripped the glass in her hand. ” The minute I saw you, I knew that I had to have you.” his lips twisted as his eyes travelled over her. ” It was important for me to know that my wife had not led a wayward life. I couldnt bear to know that another man had touched the woman I had married. Thats why I wasted no time in marrying you. Now, you are my wife I couldnt bear to imagine other men looking at you.”

Lola shook her head. ” This is ridiculous. You cant lock me up in the house. ”

He got up, then turned and walked towards the door.

To her horror, she heard the key in the lock.


HR got her signed letter of resignation the next day.  She couldnt deliver it herself because of her black eye.

A bachelor decides

Lewis woke up with in a bad mood.

Sundays usually did that to him. He was aware that some saw it as a day of rest but he saw it as a day when he had to slow down his usual hectic pace of life. He had to cool his heels. He couldn’t get into the school building to work. He coudnt mentor the boys because they were enjoying the weekend. Maybe he should try and enjoy the weekend.

How could he enjoy the weekend? Everywhere he went there were couples walking around hand in hand in the mall, the cinema – everywhere.  Yesterday when the football team was practising in the park he saw a few fathers with their sons going for football practice.

He would like that. A son to teach footie. Teach him how to learn from his mistakes. As a youth he had got into a bit of trouble, moved with the wrong crowd for some time but his step father had been there for him and had made him see the importance of making something out of his life. He owed the old man a lot.

Maybe a daughter instead. A little girl who he could call his little princess. His little Nubian queen.

Speaking of Nubian queens. One particular face came into focus and he found himself thinking about Lola.

He kept remembering how adorable she looked standing there in front of him. Close enough for him to catch the delicate scent of her perfume and close enough for him to wonder what it might be like to take her in his arms. So he had but he had chickened out of kissing her, deciding to drop a brotherly peck on her forehead instead.

Then his thoughts sobered. If he had kissed her, the way he was feeling last night there was no telling where it may have led and the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of her vulnerability.

This was the kind of woman that he could see himself spending the rest of his life with. He wanted more than the thrill of a few stolen hours. He wanted the joy of knowing what it would be like to wake up with her in his arms, knowing that she was his. He wanted companionship, a kindred spirit to share the ups and downs of life with.

Five years more and he would be 40.

40 and still single. 40 and still having Sunday meals at his parents a couple of times a month. 40 and not even a Baby Father like some of his friends.

If he died tomorrow – what would they write on his tombstone.

“Here lies Lewis Barclays – the best Headmaster that St Johns High School, Hackney ever had.”

He doubted it.

What was he living for? Who was he living for? Why on earth was he being so philosophical for any way.

Maybe he should just take a bath and sit down and polish off the bottle of Rum, someone had just got him from Jamaica. That would certainly help him stop feeling so depressed and pessimistic.

He dragged himself out of bed and went into the kitchen, when the phone rang.

It was his stepfather, calling to see how he was.

A single dilemna

He had a girlfriend once.  She was funny, witty and effervescent. His exact opposite which was why he wasn’t surprised when she found herself a boyfriend who was funny, witty and effervescent.

He believed that it was easy to know where you were with figures. They were reliable, solid and predictable. They didn’t make incessant demands on you to be entertained or expect you to follow behind them like a puppy when they went on these never ending shopping trips.

He worked for StoneWaterHouse one of the largest accounting firms in the world in the financial district. He had a head for figures and was a brilliant man who had put all his life into his career and now found out at the ripe age of 40 that there was no one to share it with.

Then he decided to try speed dating. A methodical man, he found it more than slightly irritating that just when the person in front of you was about to tell you something really meaningful after the initial first few minutes of waffle, the buzzer went and you had to repeat the whole tedious process all over again with someone else.

A kind of quiet desperation was rising in him. A fear that he would grow old and alone like his father so he had tried some dating websites and even put aside his innate inhibitions about making a fool of himself and joined a salsa group even though he knew he had two left feet and kept standing on the feet off all the women who partnered with him.

That was how he ended up asking Louisa, a lovely fashion designer, out for dinner.

She was the only woman who gave him the time of day, even though he had almost crippled her with his clumsy attempts to dance.