Novels by JS Wicked

The night pressed thick against the windows of Ava’s home, the quiet unsettling after so many days of chaos. Marcus sat with her on the couch, their plates of homemade pasta empty between them, the candles burning low. The scent of basil drifted lazily between them, though neither paid much attention. Something heavier was in the room. Something unspoken.Ava leaned into him, her head on his shoulder. “You’re not here,” she murmured. “Your body is. Your mind’s somewhere else.”He hesitated. He couldn’t lie to her—not really—but he also couldn’t drag her into danger without understanding the entire scope.“My world’s complicated right now,” he said carefully. “I’m trying to simplify it.”Ava looked up at him. “Simplify? Baby, you’re a whole CEO, a gardener at midnight, a single father, and a man dating a seventy-year-old woman with more drama than the Housewives of Atlanta. How simple do you think this can get?”Marcus laughed despite himself. “You do make things… vivid.”“Good,” she s

The du Prée safehouse had a strange kind of quiet—the kind that felt curated, shaped, and measured. Asher lay awake in the soft king-sized bed, staring at the beams in the ceiling. Mercedes and Bentley had gone home hours ago. Cameron had checked in once before disappearing like a shadow with a job to do. The security team outside moved so silently that Asher wasn’t sure they were real.He inhaled deeply. No smoke. No yelling. No back-firing cars. No sudden noises.Just quiet.Too much quiet.His chest tightened. He didn’t deserve quiet.His mind replayed the crowd at the restaurant. The yelling. The rush of panic. The brothers pulling him out. The falling glass. The humiliation. The fear on Bentley’s face—God, that killed him the most.He rubbed his temples. “Get it together,” he whispered.A gentle knock made him sit up.“Yeah?”The door opened, and Cameron stepped in, carrying a tray with warm tea and a small plate of beignets—clearly a bribe engineered for a St. James man.“You di

Marcus didn’t waste a second. Within an hour, a sleek, unmarked SUV rolled into Ava’s driveway, accompanied by two security vehicles that looked like ordinary cars but weren’t. Cameron stepped out first—dark suit, silent steps, eyes sharp as a blade.“Mrs. St. James,” he nodded when Ava met him at the door. “Everything is in place.”Ava studied him. “Lord, you look like you fight crime on your lunch break.”Cameron didn’t blink. “Only when needed.”Rory muttered, “See? Even the helpers look dangerous.”Asher appeared behind them, leaning on the doorframe. His color had improved, but his hands still trembled slightly. “Is this… all for me?”Marcus stepped forward. “This is for your safety. And for everyone attached to you.”Asher swallowed, torn between gratitude and humiliation. “I don’t know how to… receive this.”“You don’t have to know,” Marcus said gently. “You just accept it.”Mercedes hugged her father’s arm. “Daddy, it’s okay. Let somebody else be strong for you today.”Bentley

The ride back to Ava’s house was silent—one of those silences full of too much breathing and not enough words. Even the car seemed to understand it needed to behave.Asher lay across the backseat, eyes closed but far from calm. Ava held his hand, squeezing every few minutes just to remind him he wasn’t alone.Bentley sat beside him, staring out the window, jaw clenched like holding in anger louder than his voice.Mercedes kept one hand on Bentley’s shoulder, the other holding her phone, ready to call for help if anything shifted.Marcus drove.His usually steady hands felt heavy, like he was gripping more than the steering wheel—like he was holding the weight of Ava’s world.When they finally arrived, the family filed into Ava’s living room, settling in different corners like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t know how to fit back together yet.Rory sagged onto the couch. “That was too close.”Theo paced. “Too close? That was a full disaster with a side of ‘don’t look now but they know wh

Morning sunlight filtered through the windows of St. James Creole like gold spilled over hardwood. The restaurant wasn’t open yet, but the kitchen was alive—pots warming, onions sweating, butter melting. Rory worked with the intensity of a man cooking through stress. Theo helped as best he could without getting in the way. Ruth hummed gospel while chopping herbs.And Marcus stood in the entryway, hands in his pockets, watching this world he was becoming part of.Ava slipped in behind him, touching his arm lightly. “You look like you’re about to adopt the whole restaurant.”He smiled. “I think it adopted me first.”She kissed his cheek—a soft, quick moment—then nodded toward Rory. “He’s pretending he’s not watching you.”Rory immediately cut his eyes over. “Yes, I am.”Ava gave Marcus an apologetic look.Rory wiped his hands on a towel and marched toward them. “Listen here, Marcus. We got to talk.”Theo stood taller. “Is this about the bachelor party?”“Boy, no,” Rory snapped. “This is

The group chat titled “St. James Women + Maya” had been quiet for exactly fourteen hours. That was fourteen hours too long.At 9:16 a.m., the first message struck.Mercedes: Ladies… I have an idea for Aunt Ava’s bachelorette weekend.Thirty seconds later, her follow-up arrived.Mercedes: Don’t judge me.Another ping.Genevieve: Judgment is my ministry, baby. Proceed.Maya chimed in from Pasadena.Maya: If y’all get my daddy arrested, I’m transferring to a different family.Delphine added a dramatic eye-roll emoji.Delphine: Girl hush. Your daddy IS the arrest.The chat erupted with laughing emojis.Meanwhile, in New Orleans, Ava stood in the middle of her bedroom clutching the phone to her chest like it might explode. “Lord, they’re planning something,” she muttered.Ruth called instantly. “Did you see the chat?”Ava groaned. “Ruth, I’ve raised these women. I know danger when I see it.”“Brace yourself,” Ruth whispered. “Mercedes got that sparkle in her eye. That sparkle leads to bail