Big Apple Sin

  Contents

  Big Apple Sin

  Copyright

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About Simone Evans

  Evanlea Publishing

  Big Apple Sin

  A Bad Apples Novel

  By Simone Evans

  Big Apple Sin: A Bad Apples Novel

  Copyright © 2020 Josette Schaber (as Simone Evans) and Claudia Stevens

  Cover design by Evanlea Publishing & Designs

  Proofreading and Edits: Evanlea Publishing & Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems — except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews — without permission in writing from Evanlea Publishing, Josette Schaber, or Simone Evans, or Claudia Stevens.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This book is sold in print and electronic formats and is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book, when in electronic format, may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you are reading this book in print or electronic format and did not purchase or borrow it through proper channels, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  **Disclaimer: Translations were completed using Google Translate and as such have not been verified. Poetic license has been exercised in regard to spelling and removal of language-specific characters to facilitate the flow of the story. The use of these translations is to create a mood within the story. However, in many cases, names and dialog are fictional creations of the author and not meant to be translations of other languages.

  Published by Evanlea Publishing

  https://evanleapublishingdesigns.weebly.com/

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  Big Apple Sin

  By Simone Evans

  "Big Apple Sin" is a standalone novel in the "Bad Apples" series.

  For Cheryl “Cherry” Jones moving to the 'Big Apple' was a chance at a fresh start. In a city the size of New York, she was positive she'd get lost in the shuffle and be able to enjoy her new job as a preschool teacher while forgetting the fact her five-year marriage ended when they discovered she couldn't have any children of her own.

  Levan Clark had spent his life one step away from ruin. In his youth, he'd made plenty of mistakes but now... now he was going to show his three-year-old twins how to ignore stereotypes and become anything they wanted to be. At least he would as soon as he found the mischievous toddlers.

  A chance meeting at the local cafe after her first day on the job brings Cheryl and Levan together, will they be able to look beyond their pasts and accept their second chance?

  Don't miss any of the stories in the Bad Apples series. Bad Apples is a series featuring five steamy contemporary romance tales bringing together the bad boys of New York City with the love of their lives who they are willing to do anything for… even change.

  Delicious Sin by Claudia Stevens

  Big Apple Sin by Simone Evans

  Sweet Cider Sin by Rexi Lake

  Sin in Blue Jeans by Dakota Trace

  Sinfully Star-Crossed by Elouise East

  Chapter One

  Cherry

  “We are so glad to have you here at the A is for Apple Daycare and Preschool,” Sister Mary Agnes gushed as she led me to my room.

  “I’m so grateful for the opportunity, Sister. I didn’t work outside of my home during my marriage,” the response tumbled from my lips and my face heated at the admission. “My Masters in Education was completed during that time though,” I added quickly.

  The sister stopped and grasped my hand in her own. Her appearance still startled me. I wasn’t considered tall and I still towered over the five-feet-nothing nun.

  “We all have our crosses to bear, child,” she sighed as she patted my hand while looking up and down the hall. “I’m no longer a nun, for instance, but it’s easier for those who knew me from before to continue calling me Sister Mary Agnes.”

  My mouth dropped open and the woman grinned up at me. The fact that she wasn’t in a habit and her short salt and pepper hair was barely covered with a bandana now made sense. In place of a nun’s uniform, she wore jeans, an oversized gray ‘Take a Bite’ above a huge apple with New York City on it and a bite out of the side sweatshirt, and a pair of beat-up tennis shoes.

  Sister Mary Agnes laughed as she watched my face.

  “Yeah, I get that reaction a lot. Anyhow, this is your room. We have you with the three-year-olds. They are a handful but it’s imperative they learn social skills and the basic learning rubrics before they move into the four-year-old room next year.”

  The nun opened the door and swept into the room. My eyes roamed as the nun continued to rattle off information so fast that my head spun. The typical things could be seen, posters for every letter of the alphabet covered the walls, tubs of learning toys in various colors and shapes could be seen on a set of shelves, and there were shorter shelves filled with storybooks. Low tables with tiny matching chairs surrounded a small square desk on one side of the room. A brightly colored rug with pillows scattered in a circle graced the floor on the other side.

  “It’s perfect,” I sighed and leaned on the edge of the desk.

  “What dear?” The nun stopped and turned to me.

  “I’m sorry, Sister, it’s a lot to take in but the room is perfect,” I replied.

  “Well, then…” The sister stared at me for several long moments. “You will have fifteen children from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. Before and after those times they will either be in the daycare rooms on the other side of the church or their families will drop them off and pick them up.”

  “Okay,” I agreed as my excitement built.

  “Many of these children speak two languages or a mix of their families’ native language and English. All of God’s children are perfect in his eyes. If you have problems with other races or mixed-race children, please tell me now.” The nun’s tone was firm and allowed no miscommunication of what she was implying.

  “Children are children, Sister. I just want to develop the next generation,” I replied and she smiled broadly.

  “Good, good. You need to arrive by eight every morning to prepare and to have the room open by a quarter ‘til nine. The staff will bring over the daycare children during that time as well. Then, at three, they will return to walk them back to the rooms until their parents arrive to pick them up. The children who are here only for preschool, you will need to wait here until they’ve been picked up.”

  “No problem.” My thoughts wandered to my empty apartment and its lack of decoration. I’d moved in only a few weeks ag
o after my divorce was finally finalized.

  I’d left everything behind in Ohio. Taking a cash settlement instead of any of the property, furniture, or the car we had accumulated over our five-year marriage. My husband had his mistress moved in before the ink was dry so he appeared happy with the agreement.

  The cash was more advantageous for me. I wanted a clean slate. I’d even donated the majority of my clothes and personal belongings before moving. Keeping only those things that were sentimentally valuable from my family and my books.

  During the divorce proceedings, I’d searched for a teaching job. Without experience, it had been more difficult than I thought. Without a second income, substitute teaching wouldn’t pay the bills. So, I’d surprised everyone back home when I’d accepted the position in New York City.

  However, the tiny apartment I’d found near the preschool was perfect. I was able to walk to work. And, there was a small grocery and a cute coffee shop along the route where I could pick up what I needed and get out of the house on the weekends.

  The city was busy and had just about anything you could walk within a few-mile radius. Everything else, I’d been ordering online and having shipped.

  “I think you will fit in just fine here, Ms. Jones,” the sister caught my attention as she approached the door.

  “I’m sorry,” I instantly replied when I realized I hadn’t been listening.

  “It’s alright, child. You will have a teacher’s aide who will be able to walk you through everything. The lesson plan is on the desk. Take today to get acquainted with it and we’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  The nun was almost out of the door when she turned and walked back.

  “You’ll need these,” she handed me a lanyard with a card dangling from it and a set of keys. “At the main door, you’ll scan in and then you use this key” – she held up one with a bright yellow rubber covering on the top part up – “to unlock the door. You will only have a couple of minutes before the system reengages to get inside the building. The other key is for you to lock and unlock your classroom.”

  She dropped the keys into my hand and gave me another smile.

  “Oh, the desk has a drawer for your personal things and the key is in the top drawer. We had the locks changed just this week so no one should have a copy.”

  “Thank you, Sister.”

  “No, thank you, Ms. Jones. We need good teachers and they are hard to find for this area.”

  The ominous statement hung in the air long after the nun left the room.

  Chapter Two

  Levan

  “GramMa, have you seen Lily’s shoes?” I asked, bending down and looking under the couch, where I slept every night.

  “Ova deh, boy,” my gram-ma replied back in her thick Jamaican accent.

  I lifted my head and whacked it on the bottom of the couch.

  “Son of a–”

  “Don’t be cursin in me house, boy. Nuh romp wid mi.” GramMa’s firm tone cut my words short. The old lady wasn’t one to mess around with. She had busted my ass plenty of times and then some.

  “I’m sorry, GramMa. I just need to get the twins ready so I can drop them off to daycare on my way to work.”

  “Leave them here,” my aunt Trinika said, walking into the living room.

  My aunt, GramMa, my twins – Branch and Lily – and I shared a three-bedroom apartment, in NYC. It wasn’t ideal, but when the twins’ mother overdosed two years ago leaving me with two babies to raise, I had to ask for help. My aunt and GramMa had welcomed us into their home with arms wide open.

  “Aunt Trinika, they need to socialize,” I sighed.

  “What’s wrong with socializing wit us?” my aunt asked, making me laugh.

  “There’s nothing wrong with them socializing with the two of you,” I stood up and dusted off my pants. “They just need to socialize with children their age, too.”

  “They going to end up bad like the rest of dem children,” GramMa complained from the kitchen.

  “My kids won’t be bad, GramMa,” I reminded her. Between my gram-ma, aunt, and me, the twins didn’t have a chance in hell of being badasses. “Where’s her shoes?”

  Lily came out from the kitchen holding her pink Frozen shoes. She smiled at me then ran up to me. I picked her up in my arms and showered the top of her head with kisses.

  “Were you hiding your shoes from me?” I tickled her. She let out a heavenly laugh and attempted to squirm free. “Let’s get your shoes on so you and Branch can go to school.”

  “I don’t want to go,” Branch huffed from the kitchen.

  Him being in the kitchen was no surprise because he was generally glued to GramMa’s hip. Anywhere she went, he went. It was another reason why I had enrolled the twins in daycare. I didn’t want them to be too spoiled and they needed to learn to make friends.

  “Branch, grab your jacket and let’s go,” I called out to him.

  I set Lily down on the couch and helped her with her shoes. The beads in her hair clicked against each other as she shook her head back and forth laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I smiled.

  “I can’t wait to make friends,” she said excitedly.

  “I’m sure you’ll make lots of new friends, baby girl.”

  “No! You can’t make me stay!” Lily screamed at the top of her lungs and gripped my jacket for dear life.

  “Lily,” I gritted and tried to free her hold from me. She kicked, screamed, and her grip didn’t loosen.

  “I want my daddy!” Lily’s screams echoed off the walls of the daycare classroom. “No! No! I’m not staying!”

  “Lily, enough. You have to go to school and daddy has to go to work.”

  My job was only a few blocks from the daycare, but I didn’t want to risk being even a minute late and pissing off my new foreman. The job paid well and had good health insurance. I couldn’t mess that up.

  “Lily,” I said calmly, “I have to go to work now. You’ll make lots of new friends and–”

  “NO!” Lily shrieked. The high-pitched sound caused me and the daycare worker to grimace. A few parents ushered their kids past us as we stood by the front door.

  “Maybe, you can take her to the classroom and show her the fun things that are there?” the daycare worker suggested.

  I do not have time for this.

  “Sure. I can do that,” I smiled the best I could then followed her down the hallway with Lily in my arms and Branch right beside me.

  We followed the woman into the classroom. My eyes were drawn to the colorful wall charts and munchkin-sized chairs and tables. Two children were sitting on the rug playing with blocks. One child was throwing dinosaurs into a bucket. A daycare worker was trying to get him to not throw the toys.

  “No! I’m not staying!” Lily screamed and began wiggling to get free. I looked down at her and frowned.

  “This isn’t how princesses behave,” I shook my head and sighed.

  “Hi,” a sweet voice said. When I looked up from Lily, the woman who had been dealing with the dinosaur-throwing boy was standing in front of us. She smiled brightly at Lily.

  I took in the woman’s appearance. She wore a light blue polo shirt, khakis, brown loafers and a cherry print lanyard with her I.D. Her brown hair was pulled up in a bun. She had an exotic look to her. I wasn’t sure if it was her emerald-colored eyes or her high cheekbones and creamy tan skin.

  “And, who are you?” she asked Lily.

  “No!” Lily replied. “I want GramMa!”

  “I’m Branch,” Branch said, stepping between the woman and me. He held out his hand. The woman seemed taken back by Branch’s chivalry. She bent down, smiled, and shook his hand.

  “I’m Ms. Cherry. I’m your teacher.” The woman’s voice was sweet like honey. Hell, if she was my teacher, I’d gladly stay.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I shook my head.

  “Lily, I need to go to work.” I lowered Lily to the ground so she could stan
d up, but she kicked, screamed, and wrapped her legs around me.

  “No! I don’t want to stay! Take me with you, daddy! Please!” Lily screamed and cried.

  Hearing my daughter beg me to not leave her and seeing tears stream down her face broke my heart. I didn’t want to leave her, but I needed to go to work.

  “Oh, my,” Ms. Cherry gasped. Branch, Lily, and I looked at the woman. She was looking at Lily’s shoes. “Is that Princess Elsa?”

  Lily looked down at her shoes and nodded.

  “I absolutely love Princess Elsa,” Ms. Cherry smiled. “Do you like Prince Elsa? Or do you like Princess Ana more?”

  “Princess Ana,” Lily sobbed.

  “Maybe, during playtime, you and I can pretend that we’re them. How does that sound?” Ms. Cherry held out her hand for Lily to take.

  “Can Branch be Olaf?” Lily asked softly. I wasn’t sure who Olaf was, but Ms. Cherry laughed and Branch stomped his foot.

  “No. I’m not a snowman. I’m Superman!” Branch announced and then ran into the room and over to the kids who were playing with blocks.

  One down; one more to go.

  “Lily, let me show you our dress-up area. We have a pretty princess dress. I know you’ll love it,” Ms. Cherry said, offering her hand again to Lily. Lily looked up at me.

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” I smiled. She hugged my legs and then took Ms. Cherry’s hand.

  “Have a great day,” Ms. Cherry smiled, making me wish I didn’t have to go to work and that I could stick around and be whoever the hell Olaf was.

  Chapter Three

  Cherry

  Sitting at a table in the small cafe down from my apartment, I sorted through the photos I had taken that day. My first day was everything I had hoped and more. My khakis were stained from several spilled juices and maybe a bit of finger paint, but I really didn’t care.

  Each child had worked with me or my teacher’s aide to create a sign with their name. They held their signs up for me as I snapped the shots. The plan was to use the pictures along with their name signs to create a send home project that they could show their families which would also show them where their children spent several hours of their day. It also helped me to connect faces and names.