Romantic Comedy Novels: Naughty Nurse (BWWM Workplace Romance)

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I republished a previous title with BIG changes and edits to better fit today’s audience. Today, Naughty Nurse is a super steamy high-heat romance novella featuring a goody-two-shoes nurse who meets up with a daring rebellious bad boy, Austin Romero. Playing by the rules hasn’t always worked out for Nereida. Her boyfriend is a total ass, her boss is in need of #MeToo exposing, and her best friend seems totally oblivious to all the ways her life is going down the drain. What Nereida needs is permission to be bad… or at least get a little naughty. Keep reading this free sample of the book to dive into Nereida’s story. By the end of the sample, you’ll be dying for this nurse to get a little naughty.

Romance Novel Excerpts: Naughty Nurse (Interracial Romance Novel)

Nereida enjoyed the usual quiet of the night shift. In their small sleepy city that hadn’t yet been discovered by hipsters of gentrifiers, there wasn’t much to disturb the peace. But on rare occasions where some hurricane level disaster managed to puncture through their regular world, the hospital could shift from as silent as a graveyard to a bustling ants nest. There would be screaming, nurses running down hallways, doctors yelling.

What was one peaceful would be thrust into furious chaos. Nothing could calm the angry energy except death -- the dull flatline of a heart monitor would be the cue for the chaos to stop. Out of respect. Out of defeat.

On rare occasions, when there was a late night emergency, the noise wouldn’t just cease but it would slow down to a quiet simmer. When a late night emergency was accompanied by a little bit of luck and instead of a casualty, the hospital was blessed with a miracle. 

Nereida Kelly sipped hot earl grey in the waiting room with her closest friend on shift that night. She never rushed her tea. The rule of a place like this was that you had to steal what little joy you could. The two women enjoyed a rare moment of peace in the hospital -- something rarely afforded to nurses. Krista was going on and on about her recent engagement and Nereida was listening attentively, longing for the time when she would have something equally inspiring to share. She wasn’t sure it would ever happen with Rashad. She was thirty-two, he was nearly forty, yet he’d still shown no interest in making an honest woman out of her. She’d been hinting for years. Nereida had gone so far as to stuff his car with old wedding catalogs that were about to get dumped from the hospital waiting room. Rashad hadn’t even noticed.

Nereida knew it wasn’t her looks that stopped him from proposing. Mahogany, red-boned, somewhere between dark and medium brown, her complexion was a perfect chocolate. Her kinky, curly hair was long and touched the middle of her back. At work, Nereida kept it pulled back in a ponytail for professionalism. 

With her hair pulled back you could see the bright round apples of Nereida’s cheeks which were further highlighted by the smile she wore plastered on her face. Nereida’s one way of spoiling herself was her french tip nails which she got done every two weeks like clockwork. Her eyes were a deep dark brown color that reflected the depth and darkness of her beauty. Nereida was most definitely beautiful and graceful whether or not she was aware of it. She had this near magical ability to make other people around her feel calm and safe with her. That’s why she made such a good nurse.

Nereida’s listening skills had a dark side, evidenced by the fact that Krista blabbered on without letting her girl friend get a word in. She knew that it was cruel to talk Nereida’s ear off about this constantly, but she just couldn’t help that her friend was such a good listener. Krista had blonde hair — natural, and she wouldn’t let you forget it —  that fell down the middle of her back and giant bright hazel colored eyes. 

As Nereida tried to actually listen to Krista’s words, a message from her boyfriend Rashad flashed on her phone. He was angry with her — again. These days their relationship was more hate than love. Nereida thought he was tripping, but Rashad always found a way to make their screwed up relationship her fault. 

Maybe he’d change, Nereida thought, despite no evidence that he would. Krista kept telling her that she should jump back out into the dating world, but Nereida couldn’t handle the cesspool of online dating. Swipe where?! 

Rashad was a pain in the behind, though. That  much was true. He was constantly complaining that Nereida didn’t care about anything except her work. What was she supposed to do? Her dream had always been to have a great job where she could care for other people and nursing just happened  to be what had called her. Nereida couldn’t help that she worked night shifts; she wasn’t even sure what Rashad wanted from her since he didn’t seem to want to marry her. Well she knew but it just wasn’t practical. Rashad wanted her to quit work and just start having his babies and caring for him around the house — without a ring. Nereida loved him, but she just couldn’t give up her dream for him. Not to be his baby mama. Maybe with a ring… 

Her mother had always told her, “Don’t let any ain’t shit mutha-fucka control the money in your house, girl.” 

Nereida didn’t often think her mother had the best advice but that piece had stuck in her head. In her adulthood, she just knew that she couldn’t resign herself to being a servant to Rashad. Somehow, she knew that Rashad couldn’t support her on his own. He certainly thought he could but even now, Rashad made less moolah than she did. It was another sore point in their relationship. He couldn’t handle the thought and he was in denial about it. 

Nereida tuned in to what Krista was saying. That chick still hadn’t realized that Nereida had just track of her conversation. Nereida shook her head, another gesture that went unnoticed as Krista prattled on.

“So, Nereida… What do you think? Should I let her come or should I just tell him that I don’t want his ex-girlfriend’s cousin’s ex-husband’s new girl at my wedding? And should I let them bring their huskies?” 

Before Nereida could give her input on Krista’s latest wedding planning drama, their beepers went off and the break cut short. Krista and Nereida leapt into action and made their way to the E.R. where two stretchers were going in. 

* * *

“Kelly!” Dr. Allen called Nereida to his side and Krista took her cue to follow Dr. Hatfield. Nereida followed the stretcher that surged down the halls at breakneck speed as she prepared to stabilize the patient that had just been wheeled in. It all happened so fast. By now, this ritual should have been swift and automatic. Nereida could never calm her nerves, the adrenaline that pumped through her veins as she rushed down the hall administering shots and oxygen as the doctor on call barked commands at her. You had to keep a cool head. You had to forget about all your problems going on outside: no weddings, no Rashad. 

The patient had burns, pretty severe ones too that charred his skin and peeled away his flesh. The kicker had been two gunshot wounds. He might not have called 911 without them. Nereida didn’t think this one would make it. She’d seen cases less serious than this one where the patient hadn’t made it to the operating room in time before conking out. We have to save him. The thought intruded into her head.

He was in pretty terrible condition and Nereida followed the doctor and yelled back information. The EMTs had managed to stop some of the bleeding but there was still quite a bit of work to be done before this patient was anything near stable. They moved him into the O.R. and everyone suited up to get to work on him.

* * *

It was well after two a.m. by the time the patient was stable. Throughout the surgery, Nereida learned that the patient’s name was Austin Romero. She wondered what on earth had happened to land him in the hospital with two gunshot wounds and third degree burns all over his body. She hadn’t even caught a look at his face but based on how well insured he was, there was no way he was a common street criminal or the type of guy you’d expect to be in here like this.

Nereida’s fascination with this patient was beyond normal and she knew it. From the moment she prepared to leave the operating room, Nereida felt a pang of guilt at leaving him behind for another nurse to wheel into recovery. She couldn’t figure out why he produced such a strange response in her. Austin Romero. The name sounded like it belonged to someone famous, someone who didn’t belong in a small nowhere city like hers.

Strange. Nereida was changing out of her operating scrubs in the locker room between the operating room and the hospital when she heard the surgeon on-call’s heavy breathing behind her. Dr. Finger tapped Nereida on the shoulder as she stood there in just her bra and her clean pants.

“Yes doctor?” Nereida answered politely.

Internally she was thinking, “Here we go again.” She knew that Dr. Finger didn’t have the world’s best established boundaries and he was constantly hitting on the younger nurses, even if he’d been married for over fifteen years.

“Well that was some great work in there,” he said, breathing heavily like a caged ox.

His eyes eagerly lingered on Nereida’s bosom. He licked his lips, not bothering to pretend that he wasn’t leering at her. She shot him a glare and threw her shirt on.

“Thanks,” Nereida mumbled.

She hoped that he would just leave her alone after that. She had a boyfriend and she was here to work… Not pick up guys. She knew that some of the younger nurses made the mistake in thinking that older doctors were “in love” with them and would eventually leave their wives. But it never happened quite like that. Nereida didn’t want a reputation at work. Or anywhere. And she didn’t want a creepy old guy leering at her like a piece of prime rib.

“So Nereida… What are you doing after this shift?” He shifted his junk in his pants. Nereida resisted the urge to scream at him and risk getting her butt fired.

“It’s two in the morning doc,” Nereida said.

Did he really think that she would be so easy to get in bed? She struggled not to laugh in his face.

“Uh, I know it’s two a.m. Nereida. You’re really filling out these scrubs well aren’t you. I like my women with nice bazookas. Great nipples too.”

He licked his lips again. Nereida’s heart raced and her mouth went dry as she plotted her escape route. Even if she reported him, Dr. Finger was the best surgeon in the entire state. They’d never get rid of him so long as patients wanted his gifted hands working on them. 

Nereida glared at him again and tried to push past.

“Not so easy miss. I’m not letting you leave until I get a date.”

“Please… I have a boyfriend, Dr. Finger. Let’s just forget this happened and I’ll head home.”

“Nereida. I’m very discreet. I know you’re seeing some young chap but can he really provide you with everything you want in life? I mean… I’m a doctor.” 

Nereida wondered for a moment if that line had ever worked. She was depressed by the fact that it probably had. Dr. Finger had probably convinced many poor nurses who were just looking to be cared for that he could change their situation or do something to improve their lives. Nereida had been around the hospital too long to even take him seriously. Who did he think he was? These doctors were too arrogant and all thought that someone owed them just because they happened to sit through school for a few extra years.

“Dr. Finger, it’s late and I would really appreciate going home right now.”

“So you’re playing hard to get?” He said. An impish grin broke out across his face.

Nereida was getting frustrated and she was already exhausted. She was about to head home to a boyfriend who was likely waiting for her angrily and she didn’t need this.

“NO! I’m not playing hard to get! I want you to get the hell out of here. I don’t give a damn how much money you have or how bad you think you are okay? This is unprofessional and I want you to let me leave!” 

Dr. Finger seemed taken aback. He wasn’t used to being rejected so flatly and Nereida could see a flash of anger blaze across his eyes. 

“Nereida. Let’s not forget I’m your superior here and I expect at least the basic amount of respect.” 

Nereida was about to lash into him again, fueled by anger at his entitlement when Krista knocked on the door and opened it.

Did you enjoy this free sample? Click here to finish reading the rest of the novella.

Romantic Comedy Novels: French Kissed | BWWM Pregnancy Romance

French Kissed BWWM Interracial Pregnancy Romance Tennis Star Black Woman White Man Romance WMBWRomantic Comedy Novels: French Kissed | BWWM Pregnancy Romance by Amazon best-selling interracial romance author Jamila Jasper. This story is a republishing of The Coach's Baby, a novella briefly published in 2015. This book has been updated to better fit a contemporary audience and many aspects to the story have been expanded upon and changed. 

If you love romantic stories with an interracial pregnancy plot you'll enjoy the story of Milo & Lucy. Their love is complicated. Of course, love can be complicated when you dedicate your entire life to tennis and barely have time for romance. So many of us black women work so hard that we struggle to see when true love is right in front of us. 

Maybe our Prince Charming is right across the court from us! Lucy and Milo slowly discover their love for each other over the course of this novel. We see Lucy struggle with her family and her commitment to tennis. With a baby on the way, the plot only thickens.

Keep reading for a gripping first chapter sample of this steamy interracial romance novel, one of our best contemporary interracial romance novellas of the year. 

Romance Novel Excerpts: French Kissed

Chapter One

Sitting with Earl meant forgoing relaxation. Since Lucy could remember, her father had always required proper etiquette, full engagement, and appropriate dress whenever he requested a meeting with one of his daughters. Lucy still felt a slight twinge of terror when she was meeting with her father, even if he had mellowed out over the years and she was certainly far stronger than him when it came to physical strength.

 

He'd ruled over his daughters with an iron fist and age couldn't change the fact that he was her daddy and daddy's word was law.

 

Lucy waited in the sitting room for her father to come out with “drinks” for the two of them. She wore a deep oxblood dress that highlighted the gorgeous undertones of her dark, mahogany-toned skin. Lucy’s hair coiled densely on top of her head held together in a bun by a strained band. Her dress hit just below her knees and on her feet, she wore a pair of two-inch heels. Anything higher and not only would she tower over her father Earl, but he would be sure to give her a lecture about the impact of high heels on the balls of her feet. She wouldn’t want it to affect her game now, would she?

 

Lucy could hear the blender stirring up a ruckus from the other room. Of course when Earl said “drinks” he meant a protein shake for Lucy and whiskey on the rocks for himself. Lucy would have rolled her eyes if it wasn’t so entirely predictable of him. Lucy crossed her legs at the ankles and waited, silently glancing at her phone to see if her sister had called. There was nothing from her twin sister, Diana. Of course not. She knew better than to try to stick her head in on days when Lucy and Earl met up to talk tennis.

 

Earl finally entered with a frothy white protein shake for his daughter and a glass of whiskey for himself. He grunted as he squished into his chair, the impact of sitting down almost seemed to knock the wind out of him. Lucy noticed how much he’d slowed down over the past ten years. He’d aged faster since his wife had fallen sick… 

 

“Here you go doll,” Earl said, gesturing to the tray on the center table. Lucy grabbed the drink and clamped her lips down around the straw, leaving the light imprint of dark, plum lipstick. 

 

“So… How are you doing papa,” Lucy asked.

 

Earl smiled, “I’m good, doll but you know we ain’t here to discuss how I’m doing.”

 

Lucy nodded and sighed, “I know. It’s about tennis.” 

 

“Recently, I’ve been watching your tapes and I just think something’s off Lucy. Now… The tournament is soon and I just think you should talk to Milo and come up with something new. I’m paying him all this damned money for what?” 

 

Lucy sighed. Having her father as her manager was both a blessing and a curse. 

 

Lucy answered, “I’m fine dad. You don’t have to worry, Milo’s doing a good job.” 

 

Her coach Milo had been with her for the past five years and Lucy wasn’t interested in finding a new one. Especially not so close to a tournament. 

 

“I don’t know if we should trust him…”

 

Lucy replied, “Well you say that about everyone and so far Milo has helped me win. A lot. You’re too suspicious.”

 

“Young lady…” 

 

“I know, I know… I don’t know what to tell you, dad. Milo looked at the tapes and he thinks I’m just tired. I need more rest.”

 

Earl scoffed, “More rest?! You think you win so many matches because you spend valuable training time resting?” 

 

Lucy knew there was absolutely no getting through to her father. She sipped on the remaining drops of her smoothie and sat quietly, waiting for him to continue speaking.

 

“Listen, child. I know you think I’m being a hardass for nothing but winning is how we keep your image good. Winning is how we get deals with Adidas or with Gatorade. You know they aren’t exactly racing to you the way they are with Jenny.”

 

Lucy cringed. Jennifer Winslow was her main tennis rival but she hadn’t managed to beat Lucy once in the past eight years, even if she’d come close a couple of times and had given Lucy a run for her money. Despite her serious losing streak, Jenny had managed to sign deals with Lululemon, Powerade, Nike and more. 

 

Both Lucy and her father knew the reason for that was the fact that Lucy was a black woman. Lucy could dominate on the courts but she had to work twice as hard to get half as much credit as a skinny blonde in the tennis world. 

 

“I’m going to win. I need to win papa,” Lucy said, reassuring her father that she was just as committed to the game as he was.

 

“I know you do, child. I’m just worried. I want you to be the best…” 

 

“I know.”

 

“Where’s that sister of yours?” Earl grumbled.

 

Lucy smiled. Diana might have been right to stay away.

 

“I think she’s out of town today,” Lucy mumbled before trailing off.

 

Earl huffed and then twirled his mustache. 

 

“She never comes to see me you know,” He said.

 

Lucy knew that “never” was an exaggeration but she let Earl have his moment. Ever since his daughters had hit their thirties and spent weeks at a time away from him, he’d taken up exaggerating his loneliness to encourage them to visit more. Lucy was sure he’d made the same desperate plea to her twin sister Diana the last time she had visited.

 

Lucy’s mood shifted as she thought about Diana and then her mother… 

 

“No talking about mama I guess?”

 

Earl shook his head, “You ain’t s’posed to worry about her ‘til you’re done that tournament.”

 

“Y’all are too stubborn,” Lucy muttered.

 

Earl smiled, “Damn right we are. Now, don’t you have practice?”

 

Lucy rolled her eyes, “I think I can keep my schedule in mind on my own papa…”

 

“Why’s your ass still sitting here, then? You need to be committed to winning Lucy. If I don’t see some changes I’ll get rid of that Milo fella…” 

 

“Papa!”

 

“Don’t chastise me, girl. Get down to practice so you can play better,” He said gruffly. 

 

Lucy brought her empty glass into the kitchen and then kissed her father good-bye. Sometimes his criticisms could be too harsh. He’d been managing his daughter since her tennis career began and sometimes the line between manager, coach and father blurred too much. When Earl finally retired from coaching Lucy directly, his grasp on her life had eased up a bit. But these days, Earl was finding creative ways to get an “in” to micromanage Lucy’s tennis career.

 

She drove back home at the tennis court entrance of her house where Milo would be waiting. He was consistently ten minutes early and always carried on with Lucy about her chronic “lateness” which really meant being right on time. 

 

As expected, Milo’s Audi was already parked there. Years of high-level coaching meant Milo could afford more than a couple sports cars with six-figure price tags. Lucy wasn’t impressed by it at all. She always thought guys who drove flashy cars tried way too hard. 

 

“Lucy… You’re late,” Milo said as Lucy walked into her training room adjacent to the courts.

 

She ignored his comment and locked the door behind her. Lucy looked in the mirror at her shapely muscles and curves. After tennis practice, she’d need to hit the squat bar badly. Lucy knew that for most women, her strength would be a dream come true. But the truth was, having a body that looked nearly perfect meant hours and hours of training and sculpting. Sometimes the upkeep could get exhausting. One of the few things keeping Lucy going was the thought that she would be retiring soon. There was no way she would turn forty and still be playing this game… 

 

Lucy changed into her tight white Nike skort that hugged the curves of her thighs and the shape of her thick ass. On her upper body, she squeezed her breasts into a custom-made sports bra. Lucy slipped into her tennis shoes and added a white headband to the entire outfit. She removed her piercings, makeup, and jewelry and then shoved them all into her gym bag. Now it would be time to face Milo’s “wrath” at her lateness and hit as hard as she could. She needed to prove her father wrong. At the very least, that might earn her a real weekend off with no training for the first time in years… 

 

She walked outside onto the court with her recently restrung tennis racquet. Milo was excellent at keeping her equipment in perfect working order. 

 

“Ready to hit?”

 

Lucy nodded. When Milo started a workout nicely, she knew that she was in for trouble down the road. She took a deep breath and started their usual warm up. Today, Lucy’s breath felt thick in her lungs. She knew that things had barely started but her mind was somewhere else, slowing her down. Keep this up any longer and she’d be forced to admit that her father was right about her training.

 

By the time Lucy was done with her workout, she was dripping with sweat. Her outfit still looked pristine and white as she walked to her cooler for a drink of water. Milo followed her with his hands on his hips.

 

“Lucy… That was awful,” he chided.

 

Lucy glared at him as she wiped the sweat off her brow.

 

Lucy nodded, “Earl thinks so too. He took the time out of his day this morning to tell me he thinks I’ve been playing like garbage.” 

 

Milo grinned, “He doesn’t mince words does he?”

 

Lucy shook her head and took a big drink of ice cold water. 

 

“No. He doesn’t.”

 

“Well take an extra five minutes. I think we should talk about this.” 

 

“I don’t need to talk, I need to play,” Lucy replied.

 

Her gaze intensified and Milo caught a glimpse of that fierceness in her eyes that he loved. He wouldn't have it any other way with his clients. Lucy had always been a delight to train.

 

She had that fiery look in her eye that Milo loved. No matter how much Lucy might deny it, tennis was her life. She cared every bit about winning as her father did. This wasn’t a life that he’d forced on her, even if she thought so during her times of weakness. Milo stood across from Lucy with his arms folded, waiting for her to adjust to the idea of actually talking through their strategy together. A part of what made Milo a good coach was his strategy. 

 

Lucy sat down on the bench and glared at the tennis court before her.

 

“Earl thinks we need to change things. He thinks I need to train harder. Or do something different.”

 

“I agree.” 

 

“You're my coach," Lucy scoffed, "Not Earl's." 

 

Milo was used to her harsh tone, so he ignored it and continued, “Yes, I am your coach. And I think that Mr. Walters is right.” 

 

Lucy glared at him again.

 

“Listen, Lucy, you’re training hard but there has to be something wrong.”

 

“Don’t you think I know that?” Lucy snapped.

 

“Well if you know so much, why don’t you fix it?” Milo hit back.

Lucy didn’t respond and took another swig of water. Right now, all she wanted to do was take out her anger at her father and Milo about this. She’d been practicing her ass off but match after match, she could feel that things weren’t getting better.

 

“Maybe I’ve hit my peak… Maybe I’m just getting old,” Lucy mumbled.

 

“Old? You’re thirty-four Lucy. I’m the old one around here.”
 

“Hm.” 

 

“Listen… Why don’t we compromise? We switch up your training but I’ll let you have more input. Earl should be happy and you can build in some more time for rest and recovery.”

 

“You really think he’ll let that slide?”

 

“I’ll talk to him, tell him it’s what’s best.”

 

Lucy grumbled, “Good. And stop riding my ass so hard.” 

 

“That’s what you pay me for ma cherie.”

 

Lucy winced at his use of the word “ma cherie”. She’d begged Milo to stop calling her these silly diminutive names around a thousand times and she was sick of it. Frenchmen were different, he'd claimed. And he'd used his French heritage as an excuse to keep up the diminutive phrase.

 

Milo had more than a French tendency for pet names. He also had French confidence and integrity. He wasn't afraid to push her hard, on and off the court. He understood Lucy's psychology better than anyone. The only person who knew her better was Diana.

 

Every once in a while when Milo let slip one too many "ma cherie"'s Lucy struggled not to bite back. She’d been treated like she was less than men her entire life, even if she could squat more than they could or deadlift more… or tear them apart on the tennis court. 

 

But today Lucy was tired. All she wanted was to end the practice and go visit Diana. She picked herself up off the bench, feeling that itch to get her heart racing and looked Milo square in the face before saying, “Let’s get started. I’ll show you just how much improvement I need.”

 

“That’s my girl,” Milo answered, standing back and watching her walk onto the court.

 

There was something alluring about that woman. No matter how tough and unapproachable she could seem, there was a deep beauty in her strength.

Thank you for reading! The book will be launching October 1st, so stay tuned. Did you know that some people had a chance to read this sample early? Subscribers to my Patreon get oodles of free content and early access. If you love interracial romance and you're impatient to get to your next read, I suggest subscribing. I add fresh content every week including free bonus stories, early chapter previews and early previews to trailers. Get your first look here. 

Romantic Comedy Novels: Bad Boy Heaven (BWWM Bad Boy Romance)

bad boy heaven wmbw romance novels new interracial romance by jamila jasperIf you love romantic stories and enjoy reading interracial romantic comedy novels, you'll love Jamila Jasper's upcoming BWWM Bad Boy Romance release, Bad Boy Heaven. This is slated to be one of our best contemporary romance novels for the year and perfect if you love steamy interracial romance and real chemistry between a black woman and white man.

This romance novel has a big theme of forbidden love! Tessa and Phil are perfect for each other but as is often the case in love, there are many challenges before they can be together. Tessa has worked hard for everything she has but she comes from a world steeped in privilege. Still, she has nothing to be ashamed of. She's a Georgetown and Howard graduate with mahogany colored skin and gorgeous doe-eyes. She's smart, quick on her feet but very unlucky when it comes to love! 

Maybe the problem is she doesn't see who is right in front of her... 

Phil Tremblay isn't the man she's supposed to want. He's wrong for her in every sense of the word! He doesn't seem to have ambitions past working at the bar, he is covered head to toe in tattoos and she doesn't think she'll ever  be able to introduce him to the partners at her law firm. Uh oh! 

The big problem here is that Tessa and Phil can't seem to stay away from each other, no matter how much they try. Stay tuned for the end of September launch so you can catch the end of this gripping story.

Romance Novel Excerpt: Bad Boy Heaven by Jamila Jasper

 

 

Phil’s arms tensed as he shook the cobbler shaker. Ice slammed against metal. His tattoos stretched and morphed with his swift hand motions until the drink was ready. He poured it, through a strainer into a tall martini glass and slid it across the bar to a skinny blonde who loudly asked, “WHAT’S IN THIS?”

 

He winked, and I couldn’t hear what Phil said in response.

 

Cuthbert reached across the table and touched my arm.

 

“Distracted, Tessa?”

 

His touch dragged my attention back to our second date, which I’d vainly hoped would be less mechanical and dispassionate than our first. 

 

“No. Not distracted.”

 

“You keep looking over there. Watching the game?”

 

The TV above Phil’s head played the Nationals game, which I hadn’t noticed until Cuthbert pointed it out.

 

“No.”

 

“I love baseball. I always wanted to be with a woman who loved baseball as much as I do.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Our waiter, dressed head to toe in black, with a gaunt starved look on his face, had yet to serve us. I was desperate for quenelle de brochet and more importantly, the bottle of wine. I immediately regretted not ordering a cocktail, even if the last thing I wanted was for Phil to notice me here again. With a new date. 

 

“Yes,” Cuthbert continued, “Baseball is the most beautiful game. It’s so interesting too. You know, most women in this city don’t care for the sport. They lack the intelligence to understand it.”

 

I forced myself not to roll my eyes.

 

“Really?” I asked flatly, hoping Cuthbert would get the message.

 

He didn’t. Of course. 

 

“Well, you’re beyond intelligent, obviously. Where did you say you got your law degree?”

 

Perfect. Work talk. We’d had plenty of that on our first date but apparently, Cuthbert couldn’t get enough.

 

“Howard.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“What?” I snapped. 

 

I’d received that response about Howard a lot from dates, but I didn’t expect it from a fellow black man, especially not one wearing an ankh around his neck.

 

He shrugged.

 

“It’s just that… well… Howard Law? Really?”

 

“What’s wrong with Howard Law?” 

 

My eyes narrowed and I went into attack mode. My heart raced. My skin pulsed with the same fire I felt during court. Cuthbert could tell he was walking through dangerous territory and he ran his hands over his fresh fade.

 

“It’s just that… black people don’t need to be separating themselves. It’s 2018. What do we need historically black colleges for?”

 

His ignorance baffled me. Really? A grown man in his thirties living in America couldn’t understand the need for historically black colleges? I didn’t want to hand hold him. I didn’t want to argue with him. All I wanted was to end this date and delete this man’s number from my phone.

 

But the waiter materialized and with our food set out in front of us and the wine, I decided to take the mature approach.

 

“You know Cuthbert, that’s a very ignorant view.”

 

“Ignorant? How?”

 

Now I was starting to get agitated. I had just given this man an out and now he dug his heels in deeper. Where on earth did he think this was going? 

 

“Listen, I went to Howard Law and I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t slander my alma mater.”

 

He grinned and then chuckled.

 

“Oh it’s a pride thing.”

 

I grit my teeth and sipped my wine.

 

“I get it,” he replied.

 

No Cuthbert, I thought to myself, you definitely do not get it. I politely cut into my food, putting a small bite in my mouth. Cuthbert tasted his and spat it out. Yes, he spat it out.

 

“My God! This is disgusting!”

 

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I didn’t think it was possible for me to be more mortified. 

 

“Is something wrong with it?” I asked, choking down my shame with a large swig of wine.

 

“Is this pork!?”

 

“Yes… boudin means pork.”

 

“Oh hell naw! Waiter! WAITER!” He screamed.

 

Our waiter was halfway across the restaurant attending to another, quieter table. Phil was the only server in action and he came bounding across the room, standing above our table smugly.

 

“Is everything alright?” He asked.

 

He looked professional, sure. But I knew Phil well enough to know he was containing every bit of his disdain and bemusement beneath a thinly veiled disguise.

 

“Yeah, I don’t eat pork. Y’all got chicken fingers?”

 

“This is a French bistro sir.”

 

Cuthbert glanced up at him bewildered.

 

“So y’all got chicken fingers or naw?” 

 

I stared at my food, desperate to avoid eye contact with Phil like my life depended on it. He swiftly removed the plate and strode back into the kitchen leaving me with a very bewildered Cuthbert. He downed his entire glass of wine in two gulps and poured another.

 

“I don’t eat swine. That shit’s unclean.”

 

“Yeah?” I asked.

 

“Uh huh. You wanna cure your ailments, your diabetes, your pressure? Stop eating pork.”

 

I shoveled another bite of lobster in my mouth, wondering how a man this stupid had worked his way up to Chief Financial Officer in one of the cities largest NGOs. 

 

“Really?” I asked.

 

At that point, my inane responses were part of my survival strategy. I didn’t think I’d make it out of the bar with any of my dignity in tact. 

 

“Yes’m. Stop eating pork and you’ll even stop having a period.”

 

“Huh?!”

 

Now I couldn’t hold back.

 

“Yes ma’am. Periods are unnatural. It’s only the white man that makes us think they are.”

 

“You don’t say…” I mumbled.

 

New strategy: get drunk. Get very drunk. Cuthbert wasn’t just an idiot, he had to be straight up deranged. I made a mental note to kill Sky’s cousin for setting me up with this buffoon.

 

I downed more of my wine.

 

“Shit, we almost finished the bottle,” Cuthbert said.

 

“Guess we’re having fun.”

 

He didn’t read my sarcasm and winked at me, licking his lips in a dramatic gesture which I supposed was meant to be sexual. The lobster I’d just eaten flipped in my stomach.

 

“Tessa, I gotta say, they don’t make women like you anymore. Especially not in DC.”

 

“They say I’m one of a kind,” I replied dryly. 

 

“Yeah. You are. And a lawyer. Wow. How do you get on at your firm with all those white men?”

 

I shrugged.

 

“I get on fine. I know how to play the game. I do what’s asked of me, I mind my business and I win cases.”

 

“When we get married, you’ll have to quit that job though.”

 

My fork clattered to the plate involuntarily.

 

“Huh?”

 

Cuthbert chuckled.

 

“Only joking. It’s too early to talk about marriage. But when we do get there… I believe in the traditional ways.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“A man works. The woman doesn’t. That’s how it’s been in my family. See this generation ain’t ready to let a man be a man.”

 

Every bone in my body wanted to leap out of my chair and start beating Cuthbert over the head. Ladies, I tell you, I wanted to sink into the earth. I would have done anything to get this man to shut his damned mouth.

 

“I’ll never quit my job. Not for anybody. I worked too hard for what I’ve got.”

 

“Yeah, you one of these independent black women, right?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You black women think you don’t need a man. That’s why more and more of you end up single. If y’all would just humble yourselves, you’d be able to keep a man.”

 

I snorted. 

 

“Whatever.”

 

I’d started to lose my patience with Cuthbert. The waiter returned to our table with Cuthbert’s new meal. It wasn’t chicken fingers but it was the closest thing to it. I paid attention to him as he ate his first bite, memorizing every detail so I could recount the entire experience to Sky without missing any of the particulars. 

 

“Now this is real food!” Cuthbert exclaimed, drawing humiliated glances from the wait staff.

 

Great, now even the waiters pitied me.

 

“Uh huh?” 

 

“Hell yeah! This is one of the best dates I’ve been on!”

 

He shoveled more food into my mouth and I pushed the table back.

 

“I— I gotta go to the restroom.”

 

I clicked my heels all the way to the restroom and locked the door behind me. I leaned back against the door, exhaling and looking at myself in the mirror.

 

Is this how bad dating in the city had become? I was on this date with one of the most insufferable men I’d met and I couldn’t bring myself to run away. I couldn’t bring myself to duck out and leave. Some small part of me hoped that the “good on paper” Cuthbert Wilkinson would somehow stop acting like the woman hating, idiotic nightmare that presented himself to me.

 

I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone to call Sky.

 

“Hey girl, wassup,” she answered.

 

“Sky, I’m going to kill him.”

 

Sky snorted.

 

“Kill him? Oh this is gonna be good.”

 

“I’m serious. This date is awful.”

 

“Fake an emergency. Leave.”

 

“Can’t. Phil works tonight.”

 

“Are you serious?!”

 

“Yes. I’m serious. I can’t catch a fuckin’ break.” 

 

Sky laughed, “Yeah, your life sucks.”

 

“Not funny. Why does he always work on nights when I have a first date?”

 

“You could always stop going there. There are other French restaurants besides Bistro Cacao.”

 

“It’s not my fault! Cuthbert chose the place and I didn’t think Phil worked on Thursday nights.”

 

“If Phil is working, you know what’s going to happen.”

 

“Shut. Up,” I grumbled.

 

“It happens every time you two see each other.”

 

“You’re supposed to be helping me!”

 

Sky laughed at my pain once again.

 

“Sorry!”

 

“Yeah, you sound real sorry.”

 

“Listen, Cuthbert can’t be that bad.”

 

“He told me periods were the white man’s invention.”

 

Sky laughed out loud again, cackling like a hyena.

 

“I hate you,” I mumbled.

 

“You don’t hate me,” she teased, “You love me. Just like you love Cuthbert.”

 

“I’m gonna hang up on you,” I threatened.

 

“You’ll have to soon. Do you think he’ll try to kiss you again?”

 

“Oh God, I hope not. What happened last time was barely a kiss.”

 

“It was more than a kiss,” Sky teased.

 

“It was a lick. A full tongued lick. On my face.”

 

Sky cackled again.

 

“Why did I think calling you would make me feel better?”

 

“Sorry girl but your dating woes give me life.”

 

“You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with men.”

 

“Hey, us lesbians have it hard too.”

 

“No, you don’t. You’ve had a stable girlfriend for three years.”

 

“And that hoe still won’t wife me!” Sky replied.

 

I rolled my eyes, but her joke did force me to crack a smile — the first smile I’d cracked all night.

 

“I’d better get back out there,” I grumbled.

 

“Flirt with Phil in front of him. That will make him start acting right.”

 

“Bye, Sky,” I replied.

 

“Cuthbert and Tessa sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N—” 

 

I hung up before she could finish and thrust my phone back into my purse. I regretted wearing a dress this sexy. Cuthbert didn’t deserve it and given his other beliefs, he’d likely interpret the dress as an invitation for something more to happen. I shuddered at the thought. 

 

When I returned to the table, Cuthbert had nearly finished his meal. I marveled at how a man could down his food so quickly. I continued to eat my lobster and our waiter reappeared.

 

“Are you guys enjoying everything?”

 

“Hell yeah man,” Cuthbert replied, “This shit good. But don’t worry about all that fake shit. I don’t believe in tipping so it won’t win you extra points.”

 

I gazed down at my plate in utter embarrassment. The waiter must have felt uncomfortable too because without another word, he wandered over to the bar and began whispering to Phil. 

 

“What do you mean you don’t believe in tipping?” I asked.

 

“Nah, it’s the government’s job to pay people right, not mine.”

 

“The government?”

 

“Hell yeah. Gotta raise the minimum wage. If we don’t take a stand, they’ll never do it.”

 

“But you make plenty of money to tip.”

 

“And they make plenty of money off this plate of food. Listen, you gonna eat that lobster, or nah?”

 

Before I could respond, Cuthbert reached over with his fork and took a piece of lobster off my plate, shoving it into his mouth. My mouth hung open, aghast. 

 

“Go ahead,” I mumbled, pushing my half-finished entree across the table to him.

 

“OH DAMN!” He exclaimed, “This shit is GOOD!”

 

Mortified, I poured another glass of wine. My head started spinning and my tongue grew looser and looser. I wanted to give Cuthbert a piece of my mind and every word that came out of his mouth was another opportunity for me to flip and tell him how much of an uncultured, embarrassing, woman hating creep he was. Whatever sobriety I had left kept me from diving over the edge. 

 

He finished my entree.

 

“Enjoyed it?” I asked.

 

“Hell yeah. How about you? Are you drunk enough to fuck yet?”

 

I gasped audibly this time. I’d had enough.

 

“No,” I replied, glowering at him, “I’m ready to leave.”

 

“Oh shit, no offense baby. I know you’re one of these good chicks who don’t put out ’til the third date. That’s okay, we’ll go out tomorrow.”

 

Before I could protest, Cuthbert reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet.

 

“YO WAITER! Get over here!”

 

The waiter approached our table, his veneer of friendliness replaced by visible frustration.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Get me the check. I gotta get out of here and take my girlfriend home.”

 

The waiter smirked, perhaps at an inside joke, and walked off towards the register. Cuthbert leaned forward.

 

“Yo, is it just me or was that lil nigga smiling at you?”

 

I flinched at his unnecessary use of the n word, especially in reference to our milquetoast waiter. I chose not to respond.

 

“Listen, Cuthbert. I’m not your girlfriend.”

 

He cocked his head to the side, confused.

 

“Huh?”

 

“I’m. Not. Your. Girlfriend.”

 

“You still waiting ’til the third date?”

 

“No. There isn’t going to be a third date.”

 

“Huh?”

 

How on earth was this man still confused?!

What do you think? Should Cuthbert get a third date?! Comment down below and make a guess as to what you think happens. Over the course of next week, I'll be posting more samples on my PATREON. If you want to subscribe and get my latest posts, it's only a small fee. Check out my Patreon here: www.patreon.com/jamilajasper. I've recently published THREE free short stories for all my readers on there. You can check 'em out with as small a subscription as $1.49/month -- much less than your usual book budget!  

BUY THE BOOK HERE: mybook.to/BadBoyHeaven

Watch the book trailer for this story here: https://youtu.be/KmptDOStErg

 

Complete Amazon Back Catalog - Jamila Jasper | BWWM Romance Author

 

bwwm jamila jasper romance

Here's my complete back catalog, available on Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, Google Play, and Nook. I also have most books available as a paperback version with even more audiobooks in production! 

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Romantic Comedy Novels: The Situationship by Jamila Jasper

bwwm romance romance comedy novelsThe Situationship  is a Jamila Jasper romantic comedy novel set in the beautiful city of NYC. The story described a complicated "situation" between two "friends with benefits", each hoping for something more but too afraid to ask for what they want.

If you're a fan of BWWM romance and you're looking for a light-hearted contemporary interracial romance novel, you'll enjoy this book.

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Check out the full description below.

Description: 

LOLA HOPKINS

Not quite a friendship, not quite a relationship
Some women would consider that a HOT MESS 
But not me. 
I liked no-strings-attached fun with Mark.
That is, I liked it until I got pregnant... 
Will I ever convince this playboy to settle down?

MARK JAGGER

I love Lola, but I can't hurt her
My ex-wife will never accept me getting serious with another woman.
I need to keep Lola at arm's length to keep her safe.
But these days, she's been getting so damned clingy.
I can't figure out why...

This book is for lovers of hot and steamy action between the sheets. If you enjoy romance between beautiful, strong black women and handsome, alpha male white men, you'll enjoy this book. Take a look inside to get a taste of what you're missing...

The Situationship BWWM Romance Sample: 

 

1 SIDE CHICKS?

Lola Hopkins

 

I knew what kind of guy Mark Jagger was when I met him and that drew me to him like a fly to honey. He was everything I was looking for in a man when I’d met him. Mark was 6’3” tall and he had short cropped dirty blonde hair, killer white teeth and a body like a God. After a few drinks, I was hooked. I hate to say it but I was even more attracted to him when he told me he was “polyamorous”.

 

 

That night we didn’t sleep together but Mark explained to me what being with him entailed. He was seeing three other women and they all knew about it. They were free to see who they wanted and he was free to see who he wanted, as long as they were honest about it. I remember when he told me that at the bar, I almost burst into tears.

 

Thankfully, I didn’t. But after what I’d been through with Darius, I felt like I was witnessing a miracle. Mark was honest — up front. I didn’t mind that he was seeing other women because hell, I’d already been through it with a man who had a whole family. At least Mark was honest. 

 

And his honesty kept me hooked for two years. Yes, I’ve been seeing Mark for two years and that whole time, I’ve known about the other women he’s seeing. It’s easier that way. I don’t have to worry about him lying and I don’t have to worry about him expecting much from me. 

 

Since I’ve met Mark, I’ve been promoted twice and now I’m the Chief Financial Officer in the company. I have twenty-five people working under me and my office is almost as big as that first condo I moved into. I live in an even bigger two bedroom condo and I bought myself a white BMW — cash. I don’t need a man to take care of me. I only need a man to be honest with me. 

 

And despite his unconventional lifestyle, Mark is honest. 

 

I had him on the weekends for the next six months so I showed up on Friday as we’d planned. I let myself in with my key to his place and I went upstairs to get dressed. Mark was the kind of guy who was both kind, but dominant. He had specific tastes for women and instructions that all his girls had to follow on their nights. I didn’t know his other girls very well, but I knew that a part of why Mark loved me so much was that I was different from any woman he’d ever dated.

 

I’d fallen into his routine so easily and outside of our confusing “situationship” we made decent friends. I looked at the clock in Mark’s bathroom. Twenty minutes until he got home.

 

I’d just finished shaving everything and I slipped into the lingerie Mark had placed on a white wire hanger for me. The black teddy hugged my curves and the thong slipped between my ass cheeks, highlighting my gorgeous buttocks. I let down my hair, which was 18” long and totally natural except for the flat iron I ran over it every morning. I slipped into the knee high stockings Mark had left me and clipped them to the garter hanging from the teddy.

 

The final piece of the outfit was a pair of six inch Louboutin heels. Mark liked spoiling me like this, even if he knew I could afford everything he bought me and more all on my own. With fifteen minutes to spare, I worked on my makeup. I brushed dark shadow around my grey eyes and finished a smokey eye makeup look. I’d been waiting all week to see Mark and I knew when he walked in through that door, he’d rock my world.

 

Life got so much better for me when I learned to keep things casual with men. With Darius, I’d made mistakes. I’d thought all men were like my daddy — good, honest and willing to go the distance. But I’d learned that modern love was a lie. And as I’ve told you, Mark was honest. If there was a potential for love here, we’d never allow ourselves to explore it. We were a generation built for casual encounters, not lasting love, and I had to force myself to be “ok” with that, despite my childhood dreams of a big wedding and everlasting love.

 

If such a thing had ever existed, I was convinced that it had died many years ago.

 

I heard Mark walk in and I stood in the doorway to his bedroom waiting for him. He bounded up the stairs knowing what awaited him. When he saw me in the doorway, Mark let out a loud, long whistle.

 

“Holy shit that looks good on you.”

 

I spun around in the doorway giving him a look at all my goodies. He whistled again.

 

“Like what you see?”

Mark scoffed, “Hell yeah I like it. Come here baby.”

I strut towards him in my heels and let Mark wrap me in his arms. After a hellish week his arms engulfed me in the kind of warmth and comfort that I needed. He tilted my chin up towards his lips and then kissed me long and slow. He gripped my ass cheeks as he kissed me and pulled me closer.

 

“Mmmm,” I mumbled as he pulled me in for a second kiss.

“I can’t believe how good this looks on you.”

I pulled away from him and smirked, “You probably say that to all your girls.”

 

“Maybe you all look good.”

 

I dove in for another kiss. Mark gripped my waist again and I could feel his dick stirring in his pants. He wasn’t a man for wasting time at all. 

 

“Easy there, we have all night,” I reminded him.

 

He pulled away, “You’re right. Tell me about work today.”

“On second thoughts,” I replied, “Maybe we should just get right to it.”

 

Mark grinned. The tricky bastard. He knew the last thing I’d want to get into was figures and tables, especially not with a guy that looked like him standing in front of me.

 

“Wine?” Mark offered.

 

“No thanks, let’s just head into the bedroom.”

 

He grinned and followed me. I knew he was checking out my ass as I walked ahead and Mark couldn’t help himself but to whistle again as I reclined back on his kingsized bed. He kept his eyes on me as he started to strip down to nothing. I watched as Mark revealed his body piece by piece. 

 

He pulled off his work shirt and his rock hard abs came into view. Mark was the biggest gym rat I’d ever seen — spending hours a day sculpting his body despite the fact that he was one of the highest paid anesthesiologist in the country, he always found time to dedicate to his physique. He didn’t just look good for forty; he looked good compared to anybody.

Mark undid his belt and slipped into just his underwear. His dick bulged through his boxer briefs and I felt my pussy stirring with anticipation as he walked towards the bed. Mark’s dick redefined my perception of a “big dick”. He wasn’t just long, but his dick was thick and huge veins wrapped around his beautiful, dusky pink member. 

 

As Mark climbed into bed with me, he pulled me close and started to kiss me on the lips again. I ran my hand down his abs and grasped his cock through his boxers. He pushed me onto my back and positioned himself on top of me. He kissed and kissed me, letting his hand trail over the lace teddy that covered my body.

 

I kicked off the heels and allowed Mark to trace the outline of my hips and to squeeze onto bits of my flesh as his hands roved over my body. Mark’s hands hovered outside my pussy lips and he began to massage my mound slowly through my lingerie. I began to writhe beneath him, encouraging him to reach for my clit and start coaxing me to climax.

 

Mark stopped abruptly and then moved back up to kissing my lips. He used his hands to slip the teddy off my shoulders, around my voluptuous breasts and down to my hips. Mark struggled to slip the outfit around my buttocks, but soon I was lying there naked before him — no more lingerie and no stockings. Half the fun of the outfit was pulling it off me.

 

He looked at my shaved wetness between my legs and licked his lips.

 

“I’ve been waiting all day to taste you.”

He began to kiss my stomach and then the top of my mound. I squirmed as his tongue traced my thighs and my desire for him deepened. Mark squeezed my thighs and spread my legs open to allow himself greater access to what was between my legs. He inhaled the scent of my wetness and groaned with euphoria. 

 

He loved my scent, my wetness and my taste more than life itself. Receiving Mark’s kisses between my thighs drove me wild. He knew exactly where to touch me and for how long and he could bring me to writhing, shrieking orgasms at the slightest touch. Mark was great in bed — better in bed than anyone I’d been with. What made him even better was the fact that I didn’t have to worry about him. I could just be.

 

I gasped as Mark’s tongue made contact with my clit for the first time that night. I squirmed slightly and he pressed my thighs into the bed holding me still.

 

“Don’t move,” He commanded.

 

I obliged him and tried to hold my breath as Mark began to lap at my pussy greedily. I held still, but I couldn’t keep quiet. I let out a loud moan as Mark’s tongue grazed my clit and as he eagerly sucked on my pussy lips and the flesh between them.

 

“Ohhhh yes!” I cried out. I could already feel a climax coming close.

 

“Don’t stop,” I whimpered again.

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