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Vice Enforcer by S.A. Stovall

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Beep boop, everyone! Stovall here, bringing you my latest installment of m/m goodness! This time around I have a sequel to my debut novel, VICE CITY! This sequel, VICE ENFORCER, is a direct follow up to the last story—I don’t want to give away too many of the twists from the first book, but let’s just say Pierce is trying to lead a “normal” life and having a hard (but hilarious) time of it. That is… until someone on the police force figures out he’s an ex-mobster.

Take a look at this excerpt and hopefully, you all enjoy!



Holding on to a life worth living can be hard when the nightmares of the past come knocking.

Eight months ago, Nicholas Pierce, ex-mob enforcer, faked his death and assumed a new identity to escape sadistic mob boss Jeremy Vice. With no contacts outside the underworld, Pierce finds work with a washed-up PI. It’s an easy enough gig—until investigating a human trafficking ring drags him back to his old stomping grounds.

Miles Devonport, Pierce’s partner, is top of his class at the police academy while single-handedly holding his family together. But when one lieutenant questions Pierce’s past and his involvement in the investigation, Miles must put his future on the line to keep Pierce’s secrets.

The situation becomes dire when it’s discovered the traffickers have connections to the Vice family. The lives of everyone Pierce cares about are in danger—not least of all his own, if Jeremy Vice learns he’s back from the dead. Pierce and Miles face a conspiracy that reaches the highest levels—one that will gladly destroy them to keep operating. As Pierce uses every dirty trick he learned from organized crime to protect the new life he’s building, he realizes that no matter how hard he tries, he might never escape his past.

But he’s not going down without a fight.



The secretary opens a door labeled Lieutenant Rhett Walkerand ushers me into the office. I step in and the lady follows, a smile widening across her face, before speaking in a singsong voice.

“Hello, Lieutenant Walker. Here’s the private investigator you asked for.”

The man standing behind the desk is hunched over, reading a stack of papers, but offers a quick nod. “Thank you, Monica. Keep trying to get ahold of Deputy Chief Charleston. I need to speak with him as soon as possible.”

“Of course! Right away.” She walks over to the cluttered desk and holds up the mug of coffee with both hands. “It’s early. I thought you might need a pick-me-up.” She places it on the corner of the desk and continues, “I added some milk and cinnamon, just like you like it.”

The lieutenant stops what he’s doing and straightens his posture. And now I understand what this lady is so wet in the panties for.

Lieutenant Walker is a solid guy—taller and more muscular than I am, that’s for sure—and he holds himself with a confidence you can’t fake. His styled black hair and striking green eyes add together to make for a perfect model, and he wears his uniform like he was born for it. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he has the whole female population riding his nuts.

I stare longer than I should.

“Thank you, Monica,” Lieutenant Walker says, a distant disinterest to his voice. “I appreciate your forethought.”

She smiles wider, if that’s even possible, and then backs out of the room, waving as she goes. I stifle a chuckle. The lust is thick. I can only imagine the things she does when they’re alone.

“And thank you for waiting,” the lieutenant says, drawing me out of my musings. “Are you Michael Shelby?”

I shake my head and stay close to the door. “I’m—” Nicholas Pierceis what I want to say, but that was my name before my new identity. It takes me half a second to remember my new, much less appealing name. “—I’m Percy Adams.”

Percy Adams.

What a terrible name.

I didn’t have much of a choice, though, and Percy is at least mildlysimilar to Pierce, so much so that most people assume it’s my nickname rather than my given surname. I try not to think of it often, which might be why I almost forgot it.

The lieutenant walks around the desk and gives me an odd scrutinizing look. “You’re Shelby’s trainee?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “What of it?”

My terse tone must not go over well with him, because he crosses his arms and regards me with a harsh seriousness. “What were you doing trespassing on private property?”

“You’ll have to ask Shelby. I don’t decide what cases we work on.”

“What did he say to you last night when you went to the North Union Rail Yard?”

“He said, ‘Hey, you want a paycheck? We’re going to the North Union Rail Yard.’ Then I got in the car. The end.”

Lieutenant Walker narrows his eyes. “My investigators say there’s evidence that you, Shelby, and his other trainee, confirmed dead earlier this morning, broke into the rail yard. Why don’t you tell me a little about that?”

I force a laugh and shrug. “What is this? Shouldn’t you be a little more concerned with the kidnapping and trafficking? Who gives a fuck about trespassing? You really think a district attorney is going to prosecute hero detectives after they saved twenty people? I don’t think so.”

“This isn’t about the trespassing,” he says, his fingers gripping into his arms, his knuckles turning white. “This is about the fact that Shelby has been involved in threeseparate instances of breaking the law in conjunction with this very same criminal activity. I’d like to know what’s going on and how Shelby got his information.”

“That makes one of us,” I drawl.

Lieutenant Walker lets out a long exhale and walks over to me. He relaxes a bit, dropping his crossed arms, and meets my gaze. “A man died tonight. This isn’t a laughing matter. Next time it could be you or Shelby.”

“Shit happens.”

He grits his teeth. “You don’t care at all?”

“I don’t wanna die, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But you’ll do whatever is asked of you—so long as you get a paycheck.”

I let my silence do the talking.

I know it’s a lowlife mentality, but it’s not like I have many options. I dropped out of high school, my mother is in prison, and my father killed himself drinking and driving. Not to mention my résumé includes a laundry list of corpses under the “references” portion. I can already hear the callbacks.


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About the Author 

S.A. Stovall grew up in California’s central valley with a single mother and little brother. Despite no one in her family having a degree higher than a GED, she put herself through college (earning a BA in History), and then continued on to law school where she obtained her Juris Doctorate.

As a child, Stovall’s favorite novel was Island of the Blue Dolphinsby Scott O’Dell. The adventure on a deserted island opened her mind to ideas and realities she had never given thought before—and it was the moment Stovall realized that story telling (specifically fiction) became her passion. Anything that told a story, be it a movie, book, video game or comic, she had to experience. Now, as a professor and author, Stovall wants to add her voice to the myriad of stories in the world, and she hopes you enjoy.

You can contact her at the following addresses.

Twitter: @GameOverStation




Vice City Rainbow Award Winner



“To say the characterization was good would be like saying I love reading. It’s a gross understatement… Overall, I loved every inch of it.”

– Divine Magazine


“The noir setting absolutely gripped me with stark details. As a lover of crime fiction, I highly recommend this book in what will hopefully be a very long and satisfying series.”

– The Novel Approach Reviews


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