interracial romance

BWWM Books: Redneck Rebels | A WMBW Interracial Romance Novel

I’m not exactly new to the Reverse Harem trend. A couple years ago, I published an insanely hot series of reverse harem books although at the time, I called it a menage series. Currently, all five books are available for purchase on eBook and audiobook. Since it’s been SO LONG, I decided to bring the reverse harem books trend back with my upcoming release, Redneck Rebels. If you enjoyed my book Cocky Cowboy or you liked Anaconda, Python, Mamba, etc. you will LOVE this story…

Here’s what you can expect to find:
💞3 SMOKIN’ hot & loyal alphas all bonded to one woman

💞STEAMY interracial scenes unlike any you’ve read before

💞DEVOTED beefy men with huge muscles and bigger c*cks working to end segregation in a small town

💞Symbols of hate DESTROYED by 3 hot men and 1 brilliant woman with a mission to change the past…

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Redneck Rebels

“The three of us men are kin. We share everything… especially her — Caroline Coulson, the woman we ain’t s’posed to love…”

3 alpha male country boys…

1 Black intellectual woman…

A segregated town that isn’t ready for interracial love.

Exposing town secrets & scandals threatens all four lovers in this interracial reverse harem.
Can Caroline keep the quad together, or will she have to choose between the strapping men who love her, and her career in politics?

If you’re new to this kind of romance… give it a try. If you love interracial romance and enjoy bwwm books or wmbw books, you’ll love this!

I posted the free sample below. It’s not gross, it’s female centered passion and the HEAT between these characters will blow your mind. Read the excerpt below and get excited about the upcoming release.


Romance Novel Excerpts: Redneck Rebels

Travis took his hand and pulled a hairpin from Caroline’s head. Thick black curls draped down over her chest, covering her small, perky B-cup breasts. The cop car parked beneath a magnolia tree a mile away from the town’s well. Here, it was quiet enough and isolated enough that no one would notice a dirty beat up police car parked beneath a tree with the windows up and the air conditioning blasting to stave off the summer heat. 

Caroline was naked, sweat pooling at her brown despite the air conditioning, and for the first time in weeks Travis was finally alone with her. He took his pale hand and pressed it to her sepia colored cheek, drawing her in for a kiss. Magnolias bloomed around this time of year like a storm. Their pink and purple petals fell to the ground beneath the trees, littering every inch of the sidewalk and the earth with these sweet scented reminders of the springtime. Old Town breathed with life again, and the Southern winter was finally over.

A fresh southern breeze blew across the town, past the white Evangelical Church and over the train tracks past the Black Baptist church where Caroline’s mother sang every Sunday. That woman could have been a star, people in Old Town said. Old Town was always going to be so quintessentially American. Each house hung a large American flag, the stars and stripes floating in the breeze and marking Old Town as a home for true patriots. There would always be two sides to the town. There would always be the side with large houses, old antebellum mansions with their pillars and acres and acres of old plantation land. On that side of town, sometimes the flag had the stars and bars instead of the stars and stripes. Southern pride, they said. Caroline knew different. Tufts of cotton floated on the breeze at the height of growing season, landing on the porches and cars of the townspeople. The train tracks would always be in the same place, cutting the town in two. On the other side of those train tracks, the town was different. There were no more columns or large swathes of land that stretched out for acres and acres. Small wooden houses were built not too far apart from each other and on the other side of the tracks, the houses centered around a deep well that had watered that half of the town for decades.

That morning Caroline Coulson twisted her long kinky black hair into a top bun. While the other girls in her office could get away with "messy buns”, Caroline did not share that privilege. Using stiff black hair pins, she pinned down every strand of hair lest she be accused of being unkempt. It was the first day since Buchanan’s victory as Mayor and the most important day Caroline would have in the office. The new administration would probably be making changes to the staff and getting rid of anyone unfriendly to the Buchanan leadership.

Caroline ate a small bowl of oatmeal for breakfast that morning before meeting Travis, drowning out the noise of her family members, all of them crowded into their two room house. Nobody noticed how quiet she was at breakfast. They were all busy and in a rush to get to work. Only Caleb seemed to notice. And he didn’t say anything until after he watched her put her bowl into the sink. Caleb chased after her and offered to walk Caroline to work.

"Travis is already giving me a ride," She said to her brother, reassuring him that she would make it without his help, even if the factory was past the Mayor’s office and they usually did their walk to work together.

In the car, with Travis, Caroline began to regret not leaving with her brother that morning. Travis looked at her with that worried look in his eyes.

"I hate when you look at me like that,” Caroline complained.

Travis’ eyes as blue as a prairie sky softened. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, then her lips. 

"I can't help it, Caroline."

"Find a way to help it. I wasn't worried about today before, but now I am with all your staring and ogling."

Travis pulled her in for another kiss. His lips were soft and Caroline swore she could smell magnolias on his skin. His cropped blonde hair was just wet from a shower and he smelled like cinnamon and Axe deodorant. Caroline straddled his lap and ran her hands over his head and his neck, burned red from the strengthened sun on his morning run before work. She didn’t want him to stop kissing her but they had already wasted enough time. These morning romps had become their morning ritual of late. They were just old friends, going for a small drive in his car. That was how it started at least. Now, they kissed and kissing lead to other things. Caroline slipped into her clothing, hoping that her bun could be twisted into its former glory. Travis stuck the last hairpin in.

"Before we leave, let's just have one more round," Travis suggested, his eyes wandering to her breasts as he helped her fix her hair one last time.

Caroline was powerless to his suggestions. He kissed her and then pushed her back up against the seats. The door handle dug into the middle of her back, but Caroline didn’t care. Travis spread her legs wide and undid the zipper to his cop uniform, pulling his hardness out again. His member was large and thick, throbbing with anticipation before he even pressed the tip up against her silky dripping entrance. 

Even if this was their third round for the morning, heat never subsided between them. Travis thrust every inch between her legs with one stroke and Caroline moaned as she accepted his firm pulsing cock between her legs. He took her hands over her head, pressing them into the window. He plunged into Caroline deeply, making love to her in the back of his police car until she screamed in pleasure and the windows fogged up. Her toes, raised in the air, traced the fog on the window and pressed up against it as he pounded her. It was a good thing no one really came to this part of town. Travis new all the good spots — chalk it up to him being the starting quarterback at their high school and having plenty of girlfriends to take out into these abandoned fields. 

Once Caroline finished in a loud, euphoric climax, Travis erupted between her legs causing her to shake and tremble as his seed filled her slippery honeypot. 

Once they finished for the third time that morning, Caroline buttoned his shirt and help him tuck it in his starched blue pants. Travis Montgomery grinned. He loved their morning ritual. And Caroline? Well he always loved her. Since they were teenagers, they had been best friends. When Caroline went to college, Travis was convinced that she would never come back. Now, he worried that Caroline was trapped in this town, like he was, and he regretted ever wishing that this smart brown-skinned beauty would come back. Old Town didn’t deserve a woman like Caroline. He kissed her forehead again, unable to resist doing so.

"You're way too pensive in the morning. Lighten up. I'm already going to have a hellish day at work," Caroline complained, smacking Travis's shoulder with a teasing expression on her face.

Travis grinned and rolled his eyes, countering her complaint with one of his own.

“I’m going to have an even more hellish day.”

“What, the Old Town hooligans going to egg another old lady’s house?”

“You know what I mean, Caroline," he said.

"Right. It's our dear mayor’s first day on the job."

"Speaking of which, I had better get you to work. You button up that shirt,” he commanded.

Caroline liked when he made demands like that. As a police officer, Travis was used to to telling people what to do. And since he became an officer, it was a welcome change. When they were kids, Caroline ran the show. It was nice that Travis grew up to be such a good leader. People really looked up to him — and not just because his daddy is the sheriff.

The truth is, Caroline had an ulterior motive for asking him to drive her to work. It wasn’t just that their morning romps were some of the few things she still looked forward to. It wasn't just because Travis was smoking hot with a perfect toned body that he diligently maintained. It wasn’t even the fact that his sky blue eyes were filled with such soul, and that his Southern manners made her feel like all hope wasn’t lost. 

There was something else that she wanted from him today. It was almost hard to admit to herself that she needed anything from Travis. When she first left for college, she was convinced that she didn't need anyone in this town, least of all Travis. Now, she needed her old friend more than ever, especially since she had taken that job in politics hoping that she would be able to make a difference in Old Town.

Travis drove Caroline from the Black side of town, the only safe place they could meet and canoodle like that, across the train tracks to the center of town where the mayor's office stood as if it were a castle. To be a mayor of a town that small may not seem to be such a big deal to you or me. But in towns like Old Town, people cling to whatever power they can find and they hold onto it as if they were despots in small foreign nations. 

Travis offered to stop at Dunkin' Donuts for coffee. Caroline declined. She'd been trying to quit coffee for sometime now with limited success. Travis stopped anyway and the smell was tempting enough that Caroline ordered a decaf. Travis was amused with her latest attempt at good health and he teased her about her “water coffee”. He noticed that Caroline didn’t seem to be her usual chipper self. She was still outspoken, true, but there was a faraway look in her eye, like she had something on her mind. It must be something going on at work. Ever since the mayor won the election, Caroline had been acting strangely.

"Are you going to bother telling me what's on your mind or will have to guess?"

"I need your help, Travis,” Caroline confessed finally. 

"I know. That's why am driving you to work."

"I need more than that. You know my opinions about Mayor Buchanan. It's a total mistake to let him assume power. We have to do something."

"Buchanan won the election fair and square, Caroline. I don't know what you expect me to do.”

“Use your daddy for help,” Caroline insisted. 

Travis continued, ”Daddy helped Buchanan's campaign. He's not going to help you out."

“Well, I know that there has been wrongdoing and I'm going to prove it no matter what it takes."

"Ever heard of the phrase you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?"

"I'm not trying to catch any flies. I'm trying to get rid of them,” Caroline replied stiffly. 

"You know what I mean Caroline. This town is old-fashioned. Traditional."

"You mean it's segregated and racist?"

"There you go again with that race stuff."

"It's not a race stuff, Travis. It's my life. And Buchanan is going to make that life and the lives of other people like me way worse when he assumes power."

What did you think of the free sample? Comment down below. Come over to Instagram and Facebook to learn more about the book, play fun games about the characters and read free bits and pieces…

Dark Romance Books | The London Brotherhood Book #1-Book#3 | BWWM Mafia Romance Novellas

the london brotherhood interracial mafia romance

the london brotherhood interracial mafia romance

Happy 2019 everybody! This year, I'm going to be starting off with a BANG. And a GANG. Okay, I know some of you aren't into the uber-bad boys, so you'll need to be a little patient. If you're a lady with a dark side who loves kinky sweet romance and a black woman taming a white gangster into exposing his heart of gold, you'll LOVE the story of Sierra St. James and Ollie Cook. As you may have guessed, this new release is set in London -- perfect for BWWM fans who want romance novels set in England or romance novels set in London. 

The London Brotherhood Books #1, #2 and #3 are the first three books in a LONG series that will have TEN books and completed by June of this year. Book #1-#3 are interconnected mafia romance novellas, but Book #4 will be a standalone Navy SEAL Romance novel so that the angels and good girls among you can get some love too. 

For now, I invite you to indulge in this free romance novel excerpt of a mafia romance for black women who love romantic stories, read BWWM online for free and may enjoy stories from inspiring authors like Amarie Avant or Theodora Taylor.

 If you have any questions about this series, please leave a comment below and I will answer any and all questions as soon as possible. 

Before diving into this free sample, consider checking out the trailer. Click here to watch the trailer.

Free Romance Novel Excerpts | The London Brotherhood I

Chapter One

SIERRA ST. JAMES

“He took my mate’s girl, you get me? So I ‘ad to do something about it. I pushed ‘im up against the wall and ‘e started squealing like a pig. I took my knife and I pressed it up to him. He started shaking, scared like a little girl. I leaned in and laughed. I couldn’t ‘elp it. ‘E looked so weak. How am I supposed to respect ‘im. I didn’t do nothing though. I walked away. ‘E was scared enough.”

“Do you think there was any other way to handle him, Malik?”

“‘E disrespected me, innit? I ‘ave a right to defend myself.”

“I understand. It doesn’t feel good to be threatened, does it?”

“No Miss St. James. It doesn’t. I ‘ad to teach him a lesson, innit?”

“Was there any other way you could have handled him, Malik?”

“Let me tell you something, alright? Niggas like him get mad hench and think they can talk any way they want on the estate. You can’t show them weakness, innit.” 

“I understand. But Malik, you have to remember what we discussed last time. It isn’t always the best response to jump straight to violence.”

“You think these pagans understand conversation?” 

“Well, have you tried?”

He snickered.

“Miss St. James, I’m sorry, but it just wouldn’t work. I’m dealing with niggas darker than you could imagine.”

“Right.”

I paused, scribbling a note about Malik’s latest encounter in my record book, filled with accounts of tens of similar incidents, which had become progressively worse, not better throughout the course of our counseling.

“For example,” Malik continued, unprompted by any of my questions, “I’ve got bare problems on the estate. I’ve got beef. Real beef. I can’t show weakness. Last week, Butcher got my sister up against the wall with a gun to ‘er ‘ead. What do you think he’d do if I showed weakness.”

“So you’re doing this for your sister?”

“Yes. Maybe. Sort of.” 

“You think if your sister got free of her boyfriend you would feel safer?”

“Absolutely.”

For a child who raced to violence and responded emotionally to any perceived slight, I could always be surprised by Malik’s calm and rational nature that breached his estate programming during our sessions every once in a while.

“Is there anything you can do to get her away from him?”

“I could shank him.”

“Aside from that.”

Malik shook his head.

“No. He wants me to join…”

I raised an eyebrow. Malik had always been cautious with me not to reveal what I’d suspected since we started our sessions together. The brotherhood had been circling. My manager at the centre had warned us to look for the signs, underestimating the fact that our wards knew what we were doing and maintained a deep self-interest in keeping any potential gang activity far out of our sight.

Malik trusted me, and he’d just let his guard down enough for me to get information that I wanted. If the brotherhood was closing in on a new recruit, I’d have to tell someone.

“Join what?”

“Nevermind.”

“Malik, you can talk to me.”

“Oh I can, can I? So you won’t rat me out to Gemma?”

“Well—”

“You can’t lie to me. You’re too good.”

“I’m obligated to report to my superiors. That’s never been a secret.”

“Fine. Report me. But you don’t ‘ave to worry.” 

“Why?”

“Mandem can’t make Malik join a gang if ‘e don’t want to, innit?”

“Right.”

“Then nothing to worry about.”

“What sort of pressure are you under? Do you think you can withstand it?”

“Me an’ Butcher ‘ave an understanding. That’s about it. I help ‘im out, sure. But ‘e knows I’m only doing it for my sister, you get me?”

“Of course. If you need any help, Malik, that’s why we’re here.”

“I know.”

“Why are you here Malik? You don’t have to come in for counseling. What do you want from us?”

“I want to make sure my sister is alright. I don’t want to do anything that gets me killed. I don’t want to do anything dangerous. I want to be the man she needs. I want her to get away from that Irish bastard.” 

“Violence won’t solve anything with him. The brotherhood’s pockets run deep. Remember that.”

“That’s bait.”

“Right, but you just told me about how you handled things before. Something like that won’t fly when you’re dealing with dangerous, dangerous men.”

Malik smirked and put his feet up, a cocksure grin plastered across his seventeen year old face. His russet brown face was too wise for his age. He shouldn’t have had to deal with the cards he’d been dealt — seventeen, living on the estate with his sister and a crazy asshole who would have the brotherhood circling Malik like vultures if they could find any good use for him at all.

“What do you know about dangerous men?” Malik taunted me.

“I know enough to know that you don’t want to mess with them.” 

“Something’s different about you, Sierra,” Malik said, using my first name and leaning forward, his chin propped up on his hands as he stared at me, “You ain’t like the other counselors in this joint. You’ve seen things.”

“We aren’t here to talk about me.”

“I’m right though, ain’t I?”

“If I tell you something about me, will you answer my question honestly?”

“Sure, Miss.”

“I had a brother who was involved in gang activity.”

“Prison?”

“No. But you’ve had your answer, so now it’s time for you to answer my question.”

“Fair enough.”

“When they come knocking, when they come calling for you, will you tell me the truth? Can you promise me that, Malik?” 

“Fine. I promise.”

“Good.”

“Our session is finished today,” I announced, glancing at the old, loud clock in the corner of my office.

“Perfect.”

I rose and stuck out my hand to shake Malik’s. He lunged forward, embracing me in a tight hug. Hugging him made me realize how skinny he was for his age, how frail he was, and how a boy so young should never have his childhood on the line the way that Malik did.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

He wanted to talk more, I could sense it. One hour a week was hardly enough to push past all the barriers he had rightfully erected around people like me — people he saw as posh, people who didn’t understand the life he’d been born into on the estate.

“Do you have more to say to me?”

“Only about Butcher and what ‘e’s doing to ‘er.”

“Sure. Tell me.”

“Promise you won’t make things harder on her?”

“I’m only obligated to disclose gang related activity as it pertains to you.”

“Right. But you ‘ave morals innit. If you get all offended, maybe you’ll think about calling someone and make life harder for her.”

“I promise you, Malik. You can trust me.”

“Fine. Butcher ‘as gotten worse. It’s been harder to deal with, and I don’t know what to do about ‘im.”

“What’s happening?”

“He could really kill her, Sierra.”

I didn’t stop Malik when he called me by my first name. Accepting any bit of relatability those teens could throw my way was the only way I could relate to them. The more comfortable they felt with you, the better. That’s what I’d found out throughout the past five years. 

“What is he doing?”

“She’s terrified of him. ‘E keeps saying ‘e wants her to convert for ‘im, and ‘e’s more than willing to force her to.”

“Your sister is Muslim, right?”

“She converted for the last wasteman, I don’t see why she ought to convert for this one.”

“Butcher is a total idiot. He doesn’t get it and she’s out of her mind in love with him. She doesn’t care that he’s dangerous. That he’s a gangster. Last weekend, they got into an argument about ‘er scarf and he threatened to send her to Russia on a spaceship. ‘E’s fucked in the head.”

“Has he hit her?”

“Not recently. But she’s been behaving. It will start up again, mark my words.”

“Is he using?”

“Yes. MDMA, pills, everything ‘e can get ‘is ‘ands on.”

“He’s meaner when he isn’t using?”

“’E’s a mean bastard all the time.”

I walked towards the door of my office with Malik in tow. He held the door open for me, and we poured out into the centre. Hymns spilled out into the youth centre hallway, off-key, as usual. The choir director’s screech followed a particularly horrible note in Amazing Grace. 

“NO, NO, NO! YOU HORRIBLE IDIOTS, WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS!”

“’E’s got a bee in ‘is bonnet,” Malik muttered with a grin.

“I’ve got to pick up my things at the locker. You coming?”

“Sure thing, Miss St James.”

We walked for a few feet down the hallway before Malik tapped his hand on my shoulder.

“Miss St James?”

“Yes, Malik?”

“You mentioned your brother was involved in the gangs.”

“I did.”

“Will you tell me what happened to ‘im?”

“Will it scare you off joining if I did?”

“Probably not.”

“Right. Then I don’t see the point in bringing it up.”

At my locker, I slipped into my peacoat and changed my short heels into plain, black converse sneakers. Malik held my purse as I dressed.

“Same time next week, then?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Good. I’ll talk to Yasmin, then.”

“Keep in mind, she’s scared, and no matter what he’s done to her, she loves him.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“How can she love a pig like ‘im? ‘E’s done horrible things, and ‘e’s an absolute bastard to ‘er.”

I shrugged. 

“Human beings aren’t logical creatures. We struggle to defy our conditioning.”

“That’s all there is to it then? You grow up on the estate, you end up with a roadman?”

“We all make our own choices, but some of us are more prone to certain choices than others.” 

“You ain’t makin’ any sense, Sierra.”

“It’s complicated. People are complicated.”

“Can I ‘elp you with that?”

I handed Malik my purse, which he slung over his shoulder without a second thought. How could this child be so sweet to me, yet tell stories about the horrors he inflicted on other people, from holding them up at knife point, to selling MDMA at raves, or ganging up on teachers after school to steal money and cellphones. Malik was two people at once: a child who wanted to fit in, and be kind and loved and excepted, and a man on the verge of making the decisions that would influence his entire life.

He stood at a crossroads, and I stood with him with the power to influence his choices. The weight of his decisions kept me up at night. He wasn’t the only teen I counseled at the centre, but he was the most vulnerable — not because he was weak, but because he had a fierce sense of where he had landed in the world and he was braver than most. He was more willing to press a knife to someone’s gut or to jump into fights with fists flying madly.

Malik held the door to the centre open and the frigid London air blew stiffly through the doors, whipping my wig nearly clean off my head. I wrapped my coat tighter around my waist. The weather in London was always a bit shit this time of year. Chilly October rains left a slick wet coat on the sidewalk. Puddles formed outside the centre, stinking of hot piss and cold mud. 

Malik held my arm as I stepped around a puddle.

“Where’d you park the whip today?”

“A few blocks up. Let’s hope the meter didn’t run out.”

“I’ll sort it if it has,” Malik offered, a smile cracking across his dark, face.

“You don’t have to Malik.”

He pulled his hood up over his head, and for a moment, I saw the Malik from East London, feared by his peers at school and stalked by gang members who saw his terrifying potential. 

“No. I do. I want to thank you, Sierra.”

“I’m only doing my job.”

“No. You get it. You may be posh, but you get what it’s like so when you talk to me, you don’t look down on any of us. With Gemma, it’s hard. She’s from the North end. She doesn’t get what it’s like in my ends, you get me?”

“Gemma tries her best,” I replied, defending my coworker publicly, but in secret agreement with what Malik said. 

He was correct about Gemma. She didn’t get it. I, on the other hand, was raised like Malik. I understood how he thought the way he did, and I understood why he couldn’t see a way out of the life he’d been raised into, especially without a mother or father to guide him, and with a sister so wrapped up in her own drama that she couldn’t see the pain of the young blood she was responsible for.

“Gemma’s right peng, but she’s stupid,” Malik continued.

I stifled a chuckle, and instead chided him for his comment.

“Malik! She cares — about all of you. She’s only a bit naive.”

“A bit daft, rather.”

“Come on you,” I laughed, linking arms with Malik.

He smiled as we stepped over puddles and braced ourselves against the city cold. Businessmen raced past us, shiny suits and shinier loafers carrying them into their Beemers and Audi cars. They lived in a different London from the one that we lived in. They lived in a London of cocaine, money, riches, and relative ease. Life on an estate like the one where Malik was raised didn’t feel real to them. They lived in the London shocked by Grenfell Tower. We lived in the London where we knew it could happen to any of us, and the city council would hush it all up and cover it up with excuses and blames.

Two cities, two groups of people. The city’s diversity could feel like a myth.

As we approached my car, Malik continued to chat me up about Gemma, and the other youth counselors. Effie, the drug counselor had made a fool of herself recently since she’d shown up to a rave where a few of the teens had seen her drunk as a skunk and high off her ass on MDMA. Taking her seriously had become much more difficult after that. Nick, the athletics director, had made himself an enemy of the brotherhood recently, and according to Malik, rumor had it that one of the enforcers showed up at his house and forced him to back off their latest recruit.

Outside of my office, Malik spoke more freely than he ever had. He kept his walls up around himself, and even as we approached my car, I got the distinct sense that he might never open up to me. No matter how hard I tried to reach him, there would always be a wall between me and him which would lead to him joining the brotherhood. I could lose him the same way I’d lost my own brother. The thought settled in my stomach with unease.

You can get the extended, 10,000-word sample of this romance novel before the book launch 100% FREE by clicking here: GET FREE 10K SAMPLE NOW . The book is live now and discounted for all of 2019. Grab your discounted copy right here 👉 smarturl.it/londonbrotherhood

For a limited time only, you can join my mailing list and get the book for free. Click here to download the book FREE!

FREE Romance Audio Book Sample | Blue Eyed Hunk

Enjoy the FREE sample of my upcoming interracial romance audiobook release, Blue-Eyed Hunk. 

[embed]https://youtu.be/0z6l1-oHqG8[/embed]

Hit SUBSCRIBE to my YouTube channel if you enjoy this video for more book trailers and audiobook samples.

Romance Novel Excerpts: 9-Inch Addiction by Jamila Jasper

Romance novel excerpts here give you a preview of what's to come, but this free sample is just the beginning of the action in this ultra-steamy interracial romance novel. If you're a BWWM (swirl romance) fan with a taste for HOT alpha male billionaires and confident black women who can stand up for themselves, you'll enjoy this read.

Make sure you sign up for my FREE mailing list at the end of this email to stay tuned for the release. At launch, this book will be available for 0.99 cents for a limited time and you could miss the deal if you aren't subscribed. 

OK let's hop into it.

DESCRIPTION: 

“I make the rules around here… And you’ll do well to listen to them.” 

CHUCK

My father’s brown-skinned CFO thinks she’s my boss.

I’ll have her bent over her desk begging for more before she knows what hit her.

If anyone finds out about my intentions with her, I’ll be out on street and shipped off back to London.

But I can keep a secret…

I bet she can too with these come-hither brown eyes that she can’t keep off me.

Nobody says no to Chuck Banks.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s MINE.

IDA

My boss thinks I have nothing better to do than look after his son.

Chuck Banks is the type of guy that put me off dating forever…

He’s arrogant...

Demanding…

Bossy…

And one of the only men on the East Coat who can close a $50 million dollar deal at a 100% success rate.

We need him here.

I’m keeping my distance, but I have a feeling he’s trying his hardest to get closer.

Too close, and the career I’ve worked so hard for will come crumbling around me.

I can’t let this happen.

Romance Novel Excerpts: 9-Inch Addiction

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

“No can do.”

 

I folded my arms as I listened to Monty’s three-word response to my thirty minute proposal. That was it? I’d spent weeks crafting the perfect list of reasons I needed a raise, and demonstrating how much I added to the Banks & Wiltshire Group.

 

“That’s it?” I responded, aghast.

 

Monty puffed his cigar and coughed, releasing a cloud of tobacco across his desk.

 

“‘Fraid so.”

 

I’d been with the company for over ten years after the merger. I knew Monty as more than just my boss, the CEO, but as a friend. 

 

“Monty… Are you serious right now? I know what the numbers are saying, where’s all that money going?”

 

He shrugged, “Expenses.”

 

Seeing that I wouldn’t budge, he leaned back and offered me a drink.

 

“Whiskey?”

 

“No thanks.”

 

Not only were we at work but it was hours before noon. Monty Banks helped himself, taking his cool time to unscrew the bottle while he poured it into his glass — no ice, no chasers, straight whiskey.

 

“Sit down, Ida.”

 

I sat. He drank.

 

“Listen, I don’t mean to give the impression that we don’t appreciate you here.”

 

“Monty, you know that I’m loyal to you. I’ve always been that way. I just want to move up. I have goals… aspirations…”

 

Monty nodded and waved as he drank more.

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he replied, “I understand completely.”

 

“If you understand, why won’t you budge?”

 

Monty cleared his throat and drank more.

 

“Hm… Ida, why don’t we make a deal here?”

 

“What kind of deal?” I raised my eyebrows. 

 

“One where you get some money.” 

 

“I’m listening,” I replied. 

 

Money was what I wanted. Why was I the only one at the company who seemed to be struggling? New York was killing me.

 

“Early bonus.”

 

I folded my arms.

 

“That’s it?”

 

Monty sighed, “I’ll increase by $6,000.” 

 

Now we were getting somewhere. The figure was nowhere near as close as I’d asked for. But it was $16,000 that I needed… bad.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

“Think about it?”

 

Monty finished his drink. 

 

“Yes,” I held my voice steady, “I’ll think about it.”

 

Satisfied, Monty poured himself a second round.

 

“I have something else to discuss with you.” 

 

He spoke the way white people did when they were about to ask you to do something. He avoided eye contact. Then I knew he was going to ask me to do something I didn’t want to do.

 

“What is it Monty,” I huffed.

 

“Don’t get short with me Ida,” he glared, winking to let me know he wasn’t serious.

 

“Spill. And don’t add more to my plate.”

 

“Heh,” Monty coughed.

 

I waited. He drank some more and then stalled.

 

“Mind if I get another cigar?”

 

“No problem.”

 

I could wait. Playing to Monty’s good side couldn’t hurt my case for a raise. He took his time, clipping the tip of his cigar and then rolling it between his palms before lighting.

 

“Want a puff?”

 

Monty knew I didn’t smoke. So I didn’t respond. He sat across from me and then started talking.

 

“We value your work in the marketing department here at Banks & Wiltshire. The billboard in Times Square project, the Jamaica, Queens community outreach, it’s all been fantastic. I’ve come to trust you Ida… The day you throw in the towel will be the worst day of my life.”

 

He was buttering me up now, and I knew then whatever he planned to ask me was something big.

 

He smoked, drank a little more and I waited, settling into the chair and staring at him. Monty was getting older. At 60, he was still a silver-foxed scamp. His cigar and whiskey before lunch were only the beginnings of his problems.

 

Monty was cursed with being both too smart and too good-looking for his own well-being. I’d like to pretend his charm didn’t work on me, but he was a difficult man to resist.

 

“I want to entrust you with a matter that’s more… personal.”

 

“Personal?”

 

While Monty and I were friends, there were some boundaries that had never been crossed between us. Most “personal” situations fell firmly within that territory. Monty hadn’t told me about the time his wife lived in their beach house for a year because he’d knocked up their maid. I hadn’t told him about my sister’s third DUI. 

 

We kept our dirty laundry out of each other’s view. In the corporate world, the personal is always just out of reach. No matter how personal you pretend to get with your coworkers, when you head home for the night, they usually just become your coworkers.

 

70-hour work weeks were the only thing that stood between me and more distance between my coworkers.

 

“This is a delicate issue Miss Bell, so I’d appreciate your discretion.”

 

Now my interest piqued. I clasped my hands over my knees, hiding the impatient tapping of my legs and fidgeting with my class ring from Columbia. 

 

“You know I can keep a secret, Montgomery.”

 

Monty nodded, “Excellent. You might want to have a drink.”

 

“No thanks,” I urged again.

 

“Hm,” he responded. 

 

Before he could go on, his phone rang. I could hear Pippa’s voice on the other end, loudly asking Monty if he was free to meet a woman who wanted an afternoon appointment. Monty declined, they had another conversation about Monty’s flights to the Maldives, then he hung up.

 

“Where was I?”

 

“Something personal.”

 

“Yes, yes…” he mumbled, coughing gently and filling my face with tobacco smoke again.

 

“This is a special assignment for you Ida. If you can manage this,” Monty paused to chuckle, “I’ll definitely consider a raise.”

 

“What is it?”

 

I was starting to get impatient and what’s worse, bad at hiding it. Monty tapped his cigar, the ash falling gently into his engraved Harvard ash tray.

 

“My son is flying back from London today. He should be arriving at Grand Central before the stock exchange closes.”

 

“Great,” I replied, unsure how this news applied to me.

 

“He’s coming to work here, for Banks & Wiltshire.”

 

“What?”

 

I folded my arms, ignoring Monty’s smirk. 

 

“I need someone responsible to keep an eye on him.”

 

“You are his parent,” I grumbled.

 

Monty chuckled, “Darling, I’m half drunk before twelve o’clock, I can’t have anymore on my plate.”

 

I hated when Monty called me darling, reminding me that no matter how many decades I’d busted my butt to get here, he’d always believe the company was an old boys club.

 

“Which son are you talking about?” I narrowed my eyes.

 

Monty smirked, “Not Santi.”

 

I averted my gaze this time. Monty rarely acknowledged his illegitimate child and I had no interest in pursuing the subject further.

 

“I’m not equipped for this Monty.”

 

“I believe you are, Ida. No one here knows me better than you.”

 

I frowned, and didn’t respond.

 

“Back when you were new ‘round here, maybe we got in each other’s way a few times, but you know how I respect you.”

 

I said nothing, staring him dead in the face, hoping he’d give me a reason not to walk out of his office.

 

He stood up and walked around to me, touching my face.

 

“Ida, darling, I’m asking you a favor.”

 

It had been years since Monty touched my face like that. We’d shared one kiss — one — at my first office party here. Then I found out he was married. With kids. And for weeks, I hadn’t spoken to him. After putting our differences aside, we’d become friends. Close, true friends.

 

But his hand on my face brought me back to all those years ago when I’d been young and foolish. He’d been a charming, older, executive and for a moment, a brief moment, I’d entertained the notion of what life could be like with a man like him. Even as his mistress, you’d be taken care of. A more careless woman would have plunged into an affair.

 

But I believed in love back then, and I still did, and I knew I wouldn’t find it in the bed of a married man. His touch reminded me of what I gave up for a Prince Charming who’d never arrived. 

 

I turned my cheek away from him, considering for a moment that no matter how angry I was with him, bitterness wouldn’t serve me.

 

“Monty,” I replied, “Tell me what you need me to do.”

 

He dropped his hand and smiled, the gentle flirtatiousness he’d used to get his way was exposed as a ploy, but neither of us minded. 

 

He beamed from ear to ear, towering over my seat looking proud of himself before he walked over to his window and cast his gaze over Manhattan.

 

“It’s Charles,” he muttered.

 

“Charles?”

 

Now that was a name I hadn’t heard in a while. I knew all about Monty’s sons. The eldest, Townsend Banks, worked as a freelance party animal and only left East Hampton once a month to come into the city and collect his check from his father. 

 

He was tall, roguish, with long brown hair and brilliant green eyes like his red-headed Scottish mother. Townsend, the lazy son, wouldn’t have been horrible to look after. He was too lazy to get into trouble and no job he’d had ever lasted anyways. I wondered what good his Cornell education had been.

 

Monty’s youngest son, Santiago, had been born from his dalliance with a Guatemalan maid, a beautiful woman who had been lambasted in the media for her affair with the big-name CEO. Monty took the boy in, easily using his multi-million dollar net worth to sway the courts into garnering full-custody.

 

Santiago, ever aware of his humble roots, wouldn’t have been a problem either. He was the only one of Monty’s sons who hadn’t been kicked out of Andover, and would have been a delight. Of course, Buffy would have never allowed him to work here. 

 

When you’re the one who’s been cheated on, you tend to have the final word in those matters.

 

When I realized Montgomery was talking about Charles, I froze. Was he trying to send me to an early grave?

 

He saw my silent worry and met it with a smile.

 

“He’s mellowed since Yale.”

 

“Oh that’s a relief,” I shot back, rolling my eyes.

 

“His time in London has done him good,” Monty continued.

 

Was he trying to convince me that his son was a good person, or was he trying to convince himself?

 

“I want you to keep an eye on him, Ida.”

 

I joined Monty at the window, my arms folded. The city buzzed beneath us as we stood tall and powerful over New York. At that moment, I didn’t feel powerful. Denied a raise, and then given an impossible task. Monty held all the cards and he knew it. There was no way I was going to quit, risk starting over the career I’d spent decades building.

 

He knew me too well and he knew how to play the corporate game instinctively, like any big success did.

 

“What do you mean keep an eye on him?”

 

“I want you to keep him out of trouble.”

 

“What do you think I can do that you can’t?”

 

Monty looked over at me and smirked.

 

“Get through to him.”

 

I snorted.

 

“You’re tough Ida. You’ve got balls. Charles will respect you.”

 

“Wishful thinking,” I muttered.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Nothing, Monty.”

 

He nodded, “Good. So it’s settled.”

 

He thrust his hands into his pockets after running them through his silvery gray hair. His eyes reddened from the liquor and the tobacco smoke. He let out another cough and then patted his own chest.

 

“Make sure he keeps his nose clean. No public affairs. No drugs. No fights.”

 

“Sounds like a job for a nanny.”

 

“I’m serious, Ida.”

 

“With all due respect Monty, if he’s so much trouble, why is he working here? We’ve both got a lot on our plate and with the Shanghai deal coming up —”

 

“That’s exactly why we need him,” Monty interrupted, “The Shanghai deal.”

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

Monty shook his head, “No. There isn’t. But Charles managed to do something amazing in London. Working with Vanderbilt & Scott he closed every single $50 million deal with a 100% success rate.”

 

“Whoa.”

 

“He’s damn good at mergers.”

 

Damn good? He sounded better than good. We’d been struggling to close our international markets for upwards of two years. We’d used every top negotiator in the world, including those trained by the FBI and military negotiators who’d served in Iraq.

 

“Why hasn’t he come here earlier then?”

 

Monty cleared his throat and scowled.

 

“Personal problems.”

 

From his scowl, I knew he meant that we wouldn’t be discussing these personal problems and they were likely to do with Charles Banks frequent unfavorable media appearances and his run-ins with the law.

 

“This is a lot to ask, Monty.”

 

“I know.”

 

He patted me on the back.

 

“If we pull through, we’ll all be rich.”

 

I folded my arms and raised an eyebrow. Monty was already rich. He’d been born rich, just like his granddaddy and daddy before him. Not every thought needs to be said out loud so I just smiled and stared out over New York with him.

 

“Thanks, Ida.”

 

I left his office, returning to mine with a sense of confusion. I’d walked into Monty’s office intending to get a raise. I’d received no raise, the possibility of an extra bonus and even more work than I already had. I was swamped.

 

As I sat at my desk, Pippa knocked on my door. It should be easy for you to guess why Philippa Wiltshire worked at Banks & Wiltshire. After failing to find a job and spending half a fortune of her four Masters of Fine Arts, I’d been gifted an assistant.

 

Pippa helped, and she was a sweet girl, although not the brightest tool in the shed for one who had attended Barnard, NYU and Columbia.

 

“Sorry to disturb Miss Bell.”

 

“You aren’t disturbing anything, I just got back from my meeting with Monty.”

 

Pippa turned a bright red to match her shock of red hair when I mentioned Monty’s name. Her tortoise shell glasses fogged up and she took them off to clean them on her button down, pulling it out of the corduroy skirt to use the ends.

 

“What did he say?” She asked, squinting at me as she cleaned her glasses. 

 

“Work, work and more work. Now hurry on up with those glasses, ‘cause I’ve got work for you too.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Pippa replied, hastily replacing her glasses, tangling some of her red hair in the process.

 

“Oh… Before you start,” she muttered, searching for her notebook in her pockets.

 

“It’s on the desk.”

 

She lunged forward and grabbed the notebook, flipping a few pages before she spoke.

 

“Ah yes. Uh… You have a date tonight with Chad Corbett and he called making sure you were still on.”

 

“Cancel it.”

 

“Cancel it?” Pippa asked.

 

Was my dating life that desolate that a cancelled date sent my assistant into a near panic?

 

“Yes Pippa, I meant what I said.”

 

She tucked her shirt back into the corduroy.

 

“Are you sure? He sounded nice on the phone.”

 

I glanced up from my computer at Pippa. Her naive twenty-eight year old mind couldn’t fathom why an unmarried woman over forty would cancel a date. A few more years on the New York dating scene and I was sure she’d start to understand…

 

“Working late tonight, Monty’s orders,” I replied, passing the blame onto work as I usually did.

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“Great. Now I need you to head down to HR and pull up everything you can on that new junior copywriter.” 

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“Then I want you to call the New Jersey branch and ask them to send over last month’s financial statements.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“I want some hazelnut coffee in here by 11 — almond milk, no sugar.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

She stood staring blankly for a while. I toyed with remaining silent myself, just to see how long she’d stand there before getting started. I sighed and instead said patiently, “You can move along now Pippa, thank you.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

Pippa the broken record stepped out of my office. I sighed. No more date with Chad, but at least I’d get my raise early. I opened the top drawer to my desk and reached for my emergency bar of chocolate. At my office, that was a necessity and far better for me than Monty’s emergency whiskey, or emergency cigar.

 

I unwrapped the chocolate when I heard a familiar voice calling outside my office.

 

“Is that chocolate?!”

 

Letty. You couldn’t crack open a soda, a chocolate bar, a sandwich, or anything without her ambling over and asking for a piece. The girl was hopeless. Sweet girl, but hopeless. She entered my office and we shared the chocolate together.

 

Letty was the only other black woman in my office and the only listening ear who could appreciate how much I struggled.

 

“How’d it go?”

 

“No can do,” I snorted.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

I nodded.

 

Letty shook her head.

 

“These white folks… Something’s gotta give.”

 

“I need to stand up for myself,” I replied, “And get out of here.”

 

“Amen to that.”

 

I wondered why I was the only executive in the office who seemed to be struggling to hold it all together. Despite outranking Letty in the corporate structure, she was the only one I could relate to about wanting more for my money.

 

New York ain’t cheap, and it ain’t getting any cheaper. I had to find a way out of this mess and a way to show Monty that I deserved more pay. I just had to. 

 

My phone buzzed.

 

“Whose that?”

 

“Chad,” I grumbled, glancing at my phone and ignoring it.

 

“Sexy Chad?”

 

I glared, “Just Chad.”

 

“What’s up with him?”

 

“Cancelled our date,” I grumbled.

 

Letty raised her eyebrows and cast a shady side-eye in my direction.

 

“Okay girl, you do you.”

 

Her message was clear: She thought I was just as crazy as Pippa did. 

 

Could a woman catch a break around here?

TO BE CONTINUED...

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Nook, Kobo, iBooks, Google Play BWWM Book List | Published Wide Interracial Romance

Hey everyone, this is my master list of BWWM romance novels I have published WIDE. Beneath each book, I will list which platform each book is available on for your convenience. "Bookmark" this page as I'll update it often as I work on expanding my catalog to have a further reach.

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9-Inch Addiction

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Killer Love

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Wild Winter Lust 

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Extra Stuffing 

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Cocked & Unsheathed

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Rock Hard Soldier

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Sleeping With The Mafia

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Bound & Gagged

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The Situationship 

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Out of Bondage (Book #3 Becoming A Riccardi Series)

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The Family Secret (Book #2 Becoming A Riccardi Series) 

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Mad Mafia Love (Book #1 Becoming A Riccardi Series) 

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Father By Choice

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Blue-Eyed Hunk

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Stripped Bare 

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