Buck Wile is Butt Naked In Da City (Buck Wile Stories, #2) / Buck Wile Stories (ePub)

Buck Wile seems to attract trouble like a magnet, and it's all thanks to his legendary bad luck, "Ol' Eleven." But in a world that constantly tests him, can a Black man find any love? Buck Wile is about to discover that his journey is anything but ordinary.

Ladies may pretend to resist his charm, but deep down, they can't help but be drawn to the enigmatic Buck Wile. His irresistible charisma is a force of nature. Yet, even as they wrestle with their own desires, they find themselves inexplicably captivated by the complex man beneath the swagger.

For the brothers, Buck Wile's adventures will ignite their imagination, sparking fantasies they never thought possible. Buck Wile's life takes a tantalizing twist as he navigates a world filled with unexpected thrills and desires.

Join Buck Wile on a wild and unpredictable journey, where love, laughter, and desire intertwine in ways that will keep you turning the pages. Will Buck Wile's luck finally change, or is he destined to keep dancing with "Ol' Eleven"?

Excerpt:

And I'm going to sue that singer Charlie Wilson too. He's the one who put the notion in my head about going out to the mall and meeting some chicks. And just like he sung, there she was sitting in the food court sipping lemonade. Well my mama had been riding my butt about me needing a job, so I said, let me kill two birds with one stone and go fill out some job applications and see some fine women too. I had on my nice blue business suit when I introduced myself. She was coy and pretended to be uninterested, but I made sure my eleven was nicely outlined in my pants as I sat down at her table. I told her I was into investments. That's not a lie. I spend a lot of time in the study of making money. Me and an older chick spent a weekend down at the casino investing her husband's money. She told him she had gone to Louisiana to attend her aunt's funeral. Well she did go to the wake. But that's another story.

So my girl sipped her lemonade. I asked her name. She said, "Celie."

"What kind of countrified name is that?" I blurted out before thinking.

"So. My mama liked the Color Purple when she was carrying me. If you don't like my name, you sho ain't got to call it. It's plenty other women out here with prettier names looking for some broke busters."