Showing results for "the-english-teacher" in African American

Three years ago, I had one unforgettable weekend with a man who made me forget every rule I'd ever followed. Then he ghosted me like it never happened. Fast forward to now—he's standing in front of the faculty at Hardwood High, all smug and suited up, introducing himself as our new assistant principal. Every time he walks into my classroom, opens his mouth in a meeting, or so much as breathes in my direction, I have to remind myself I like my job too much to cuss him out.

Greg Abimbola is a language teacher at the prestigious Calderhill Academy in Pittsburgh. Only that's not his real name or the only secret he's hiding. Greg has a closetful. When the murder of a wealthy parent on school premises shines an unwanted spotlight on Calderhill Academy, Greg is determined to avoid attention—that is until the closest person to a true friend he has is arrested for the murder. To prove her innocence, Greg will reluctantly emerge from the shadows. But doing so will put him in danger. His past is determined to find him, and his past is full of bad things.

Janae McEntire has suffered enough loss to not want love again. Even without the desire to love, Janae can’t help but consider how much better her life would be if she allowed the right man to love her. While her heart tells her that man is Tyreek Roberts, Janae’s mind tells her to steer clear of him. After seeing his brother, Kahlil, find happiness and love, Tyreek decides he’s ready for the same. Mister Teacher has a past that demands he tie up a few loose ends before he can obtain his happily ever after with Janae.

Greg Abimbola is many things. He's Black, British and fluent in Russian. He's a snappy dresser, a reasonable teacher, and an unenthusiastic sports fan. But most of all, he's exceptional at keeping secrets—like who he really is, and the things he's done. Determined to keep his head down after helping solve a murder in the school basement, Greg fears a trap when Sergeant Rachel Lev of the Pittsburgh police corners him in his apartment—because his refusal to take credit isn't modesty, it's a survival tactic. But Rachel is there for another matter entirely. She needs his help.

No! I wasn’t raised in the church. It didn’t happen until my mother fell ill and God took her away from me for no reason at all. Cancer, they say. But I needed to hear it from God, so I began talking with him every day until my friends started calling me crazy. At that point, I started removing myself from the “in” crowd and became a loner. I left Augusta, Georgia a little over a year after I graduated from high-school and took a Greyhound bus to Atlanta. From that point, I lived in a women’s shelter and joined a pretty decent church.