Shemar Moore Ethnicity Novels & Stories

The person nagged, wrapping a warm scarf around his wife’s neck. His actions were gentle, as though he were treating the most precious treasure in the world, and in his eyes, that was exactly what she was. This man was none other than Isaac Moore, a renowned surgeon in Country A and the father of Emilia. The Moores held an equal standing with the Luxton family and were one of the top families in Spring City. Their legacy could be traced back several generations, and they had a reputation that extended beyond just their name. Isaac Moore, the current head of the Moores, was a genius in the medical field who could bring people back from the gates of hell.

“How is that possible? His last name is Moore!” Abel did not even have the strength to reprimand him. He just gave him a mocking look and said, “Zachariah Keele’s wife’s last name is Moore. As in Moore from the Lilac City’s Moore family! Do you understand now?”

Demi Moore nodded again. He was pleased when the man saw Demi Moore nod as if he had just eaten a sugar block. He grabbed a bit of his hair; it seemed out of habit; his fingers were articulated and looked very beautiful; this is how Demi Moore noticed, so last night, she was not mistaken; his hair was not the color black, which is almost tanned yellow. A foreigner, no, is a mixed-race person; although he looks a bit Western-oriented, the five-sensory curve is perfect, but he still can see the silhouette of the Easterner.

Jennifer asked "I'm from the tribe of Judah" Sophia replied "Judah?" Jennifer asked "The tribe of Judah are the so-called African Americans,the tribe of Benjamin are the West Indians,the tribe of Levi are the so-called Haitians,we're the southern kingdom" Sophia replied "Okay,what are the others?" Jennifer asked

“Not from me or your mother.” “The Great Alpha Broderick Moore.” I flash my teeth. “A great male.” Father raises a toast. So I am told. Often. Broderick Moore was a visionary leader. A genius. A fighter so brilliant that he didn’t need his strength to rule. A wolf of uncommon humanity, raised in the wilds of the foothills, who led shifters kicking and screaming to civilization. They say I’m his spitting image.

“So, how did you guys get together? Were you always a part of the Diana Pack, Hakeem?” “Yeah, I was born there. The Diana Pack is kind of a hodgepodge of cultures, so my family felt right at home, with my dad being from the UAE and my mom being half Cherokee, half black.” “Wow, there’s a lot to unpack there,” I say, shaking my head. “Why are there so many different cultures in your pack? Aren’t there long standing families there? Not many families transfer to packs, do they?”

I challenged. Mrs. Moore pursed her lips and slipped her black-leather gloves back on her hands. “Why would I do such a thing? As a mother, I think it’s only natural that I want to help a poor man reunite with his stepdaughter after years of separation. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want to be barred from seeing my children. You should thank me! I’m even paying for his ticket and stay. You’ll have your father to take care of you, and once you feel better, he’ll bring you back home… where you belong.”

"Whatever you're doing, take care of your health first. You've lost weight recently!" Scott suddenly remembered something and looked at his mother. "Mom, you mentioned before which ethnic group Yasmine is from?" Seeing his interest in Yasmine, his mother smiled. "You're finally showing interest in Yasmine? Her father is from the Yaren tribe. She's mixed-race and very beautiful. She'd be a great match for you!" Scott looked back at his documents and noticed a connection. The Yaren people were known for their skills in making medicines and poisons. Could there be a link?

I owed him more than loyalty; I owed him my life. The bond I had with Marcus was seamless - easy to understand and built on friendship. The one I had with The Moor was much more complicated. Mutual hatred and revenge formed our bond. I couldn't fathom the years The Moor had lived. He'd told me a little about his early life. His mother was raped by his Moorish father. The Moor's skin was a chocolaty brown, his eyes a striking blue. He could be Spanish, Mexican, Cuban, or even Native American. The faint accent he spoke with was hard to identify. He'd had years to learn different dialects from around the world, and I knew he spoke many languages.

My eyes are also adjusting to the shadows and I can make out more of Moon's features. No pictures do him justice. He looks like a dark version of an Italian mob boss. I can't help but remember the bits and pieces that came through about him while I was an officer. He's of mixed heritage-African American and Mexican National. Seeing him up close and personal makes me wonder more about his heritage because he's fucking gorgeous.