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Dark Romance Books: Beauty & The Biker | Alpha Male MC Romance

alpha male bad boy bwwm romance novelY'all aren't ready. The BWWM romance novel I'll be publishing at the end of March is sizzling hot interracial romance deliciousness that you won't want to miss.

If you enjoy reading dark romance books with desirable alpha males, bad boys who make you swoon and strong black female heroes, you'll enjoy reading one of our top romance novels anticipated for the year.

Read the description below and then the first chapter FREE. 

Description:

Savage fighter. Ruthless leader. Icy blue eyes. 

My now ex-boyfriend lost me in a bet.

The winner? The ruthless leader of his rival motorcycle gang — Heath.

Heath is a cold-blooded killer, or so I’ve heard.

He expects total submission…

I don’t let anyone tell me what to do.

On the open road, I don’t have a choice.

I’m his. He won me fair and square.

And he won’t give me up without a fight.

Romance Novel Excerpt: Beauty & The Biker | Motorcycle Club Romance

Heath took me prisoner two days ago. Since then, I’d scoped out every opportunity to run. Clinging to him on the back of his Gold Wing, I scrutinized the landscape as we rushed past. Thick forests hung over the highway, shading us from the blazing heat of the sun beginning its descent in the sky. When all the bikes stopped and the men started their tune ups, I hung close to Heath’s bike. 

 

As he stooped down to check his tires, I checked on my cash.

 

I reached into my jeans and pulled out my wad of bills, mostly fives and ones. This was all the money I had but it would have to do. 

 

I counted it for the second time and prepared to run.

 

“Kaja, get over here,” he called and I rounded his shiny metal beast, my eyes darting furtively along the highway.

 

“Yes?” I folded my arms. 

 

My time approached.

 

“Hold this. I need to screw on the bolts,” he growled.

 

I stuck out my palm with a scowl on my face and he stuck the spanner in it with a bemused raised eyebrow.

 

“You don’t have to be so sour.”

 

“Whatever. I want to get out of here.”

 

He chuckled. 

 

“Bossy huh? We’ll see what you say when we get to Chicago and I off-load you onto the first toothless bastard I find.”

 

“Buzz off.”

 

He chuckled again and bent down to adjust his tires. 

 

“Spanner.”

 

I handed him the spanner. 

 

“Good.” 

 

He opened up the toolbox on the back of the bike and shoved it back in.

 

“Why the long face sunshine?”

 

“Don’t mock me,” I spat back, “I don’t have to put up with your bullshit.” 

 

“Suit yourself.”

 

“Ready to go you bastard?” Rhys approached and smacked Heath on the back, causing the two of them to erupt in guffaws. Heath’s laugh was a low chuckle while Rhys’ pierced the air with the same pitch as his Southern accent. Rhys ran his hands through his blond hair and stuck it in a loose ponytail.

 

“Damn straight,” Heath said, “Where’s Jacob and his girl?”

 

Don approached then zipping up his leather jacket and twirling his helmet in his hands.

 

“Those two love birds snuck off for a bit of nookie in the woods.”

 

Heath chuckled, “Joining ‘em this time?” 

 

Rhys snorted, “That slut? No thanks. She’s been passed around by every guy with a bike on the Eastern seaboard.”

 

Don chuckled and retorted, “Yeah right, you’re just pissed off she chose Jacob instead of you.”

 

“Fuck off,” Rhys snorted, putting his helmet on.

 

“Reckon I should go scare him out?” He touched the gun on his holster.

 

Heath shook his head, “Nah. They’ll be here soon.”

 

Don smirked, “Knowing Jacob, it should be about… 90 seconds.”

 

The men erupted into laughter again and I just stood there, glaring with my arms folded. I’d tried to go unnoticed but Rhys noticed my scowl and approached me pressing his fingers to my lips and flicking them.

 

“Why the long face? You ain’t find us funny?”

 

“No,” I spat back.

 

“Hey watch your mouth,” Rhys spat, “You’re nothing but a piece of meat and if you catch an attitude I’ve got no problem ditching your sorry ass on the side of the road.”

 

“Hey!” Heath interrupted, “Leave her alone.”

 

Rhys snickered.

 

“Whatever man, don’t defend her.”

 

Don grunted, “Don’t be a pussy Heath, he’s only joking. No one’s going to harm princess over here.”

 

The men laughed again, like I was some big joke. I kept my gaze steady, trying not to care. I wouldn’t be stuck with them much longer. Five minutes later, Angie and Jacob emerged from the woods holding hands and laughing.

 

“Not much stamina, Jacob?”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Angie spat, “Watch your mouth Don or I’ll cut your tongue out?”

 

“Why so you can shove it up you —”

 

“Watch the way you talk to my lady buddy,” Jacob interrupted, stepping in front Angie.

 

“Geez, it’s just a joke.”

 

“Yeah well fuck off leprechaun.”

 

“Me ma’s Irish, that’s why I’ve got this red hair,” Don replied, doing his best imitation of an Irish accent and breaking the groups tension, sending everyone into fits of laughter.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” Angie said, “Princess looks like she’s going to shit bricks.”

 

She jutted her chin towards me, drawing even more attention than I wanted.

 

“I’m fine,” I spat.

 

Angie winked, her brilliant blue eyes twinkling with excitement. Her daisy dukes barely covered her thin, pale legs with blue veins trailing through them. Her long chocolate hair hung to the middle of her back and she fixed it into a ponytail before donning her helmet and hopping on her bike.

 

“Time to ride…”

 

I had no choice. I hopped on the back of Heath’s bike, clutching his torso as he revved the engine up.

 

“Don’t let go sweetheart,” he both commanded and taunted me.

 

I wouldn’t let go. With only twenty miles to the next fuel station, all I had to do was wait. Once we got there, I’d go to the gas station restroom and make my break for it. I knew these backroads well enough and this would be my last chance to escape before these hooligans dragged me God-knows-where.

 

We drove down the highway, wind whipping my dreads into the breeze and my breath fogging up the helmet. I clutched Heath tightly because I had no choice. I had no choice but to hold onto his body or go flying down the highway. 

 

The road stretched out for miles before it curved, deserted since rush hour had passed. We were deep in the New England boonies and wouldn’t hit traffic until New York. The Steel Dragons spoke about going around the city when they thought I wasn’t listening. I’d been preparing to take my last stand. 

 

However they managed city traffic wouldn’t be my problem. I needed patience. Heath’s gaze fixated on me whenever we’d stopped. I’d have trouble getting out of his sight at the gas station but he couldn’t follow me everywhere. I hadn’t said much, hoping they’d underestimate me. He kicked the stand up and I squeezed my arm around him tighter.

 

The bikes roared and they kicked up dust as they accelerated down the highway. Jacob and Angie rode side by side in the front, Rhys and Heath rode together behind them.

 

Holding down the flank were Don, and Clay. Don would be the hardest one to get something past. He was too sharp and he didn’t trust that I’d stay with the Dragons in the first place. He’d begged Heath not to bring me along but Don didn’t make the rules around here — Heath did. 

 

I breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the gas station as they’d planned. My heart skittered in my chest. I was too accustomed to fear to allow it to paralyze me. I got off the bike and took my helmet off.

 

“You stay here,” Heath growled as he walked to the pump.

 

“I-I need to go to the restroom.”

 

Heath looked me up and down.

 

“Fine. Be quick.”

 

He gestured for me to hand him the helmet so I did, relieved that I was now unencumbered. 

 

The gang stared at me as I entered the gas station. I could feel their eyes on my back and of course, Rhys dog whistled which earned him a warning punch from Heath. A tinny bell rang as I thrust the door open and as the door closed behind me. 

 

I stood alone with the attendant, tempted to ask him to call the police. If the police found me, they’d find out quick that I knew Trey Holt. They’d want me to talk and if I dared say one word my life would be on the line. No cops. I didn’t need them. The attendant at the desk eyed me and then eyed the gang, clad head to toe in black leather in stark contrast to my jeans and white tank top.

 

“You with them?”

 

“Y-yes,” I replied.

 

I was too scared to say much to anyone. The man snorted.

 

“You don’t look like the type.”

 

“C-can I use the bathroom?”

 

“You sure you okay ma’am?”

 

“Yes,” I replied, “I’m sure.”

 

“Okay, it’s back there behind the hot dogs.”

 

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

 

I’d been here before with Trey. A girl had been working that time but the gas station had no reason to change. I walked into the bathroom and closed the door, turning the lock and exhaling.

 

“Pull it together Kaja,” I muttered, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans and looking up at the window, perched a few feet above me just as I remembered it.

 

I stood on the toilet, grunting as I shoved the small window open. I was small enough to fit and I’d considered running away the last time I’d come with Trey so I’d thought the plan through before. I grunted again as I thrust the entire window open. I reached up to the sill and grunted as I pulled myself up, shuffling my body through the window.

 

There was an eight foot drop from the window that landed on a patch of grass. Lucky freaking me. I tucked and rolled as I dropped. I stood to my feet and without looking back, I turned tail and ran.

 

The gas station was just outside of a small town with plenty of New England charm and an absence of any people. My feet pounded the pavement as I hurried towards the trees. My heart thumped in my chest and my stomach tightened. If I didn’t get away this time, Heath would be pissed and the rest of them would be pissed. I’d be stuck riding to California with a bunch of crazy assholes — who hated me.

 

I burst through the clearing and stopped to catch my breath, bending over my pressing my palms into my knees.

 

“THERE SHE IS!”

 

Shit. Angie ratted me out. So much for girl power…

 

I picked up the pace, adrenaline bursting through my chest and forcing my legs to carry me. At the other end of the clearing I’d have to cross the highway and then I could get to the strip mall. Once I got to the strip mall… Well someone in there had to have a phone. I could call Julie and she’d come get me. Wouldn’t she? I knew she was Trey’s sister but come on, Trey got me into this mess. It’s not like I wanted to be here in the first place.

 

I ran towards the light, through the trees, hopping over felled tree branches and avoiding deep murky puddles with rotting leaves. 

 

“Don’t you dare shoot her!” A voice called — this time Heath.

 

Yeah, I’m sure he wanted Don, Rhys or whoever had pulled the gun to keep their hands off his precious cargo.

 

“She’s heading to the mall, guys we have to split up!”

 

My chest tightened. They knew where I was going and they planned to stop me. I couldn’t stop running. I was less than 1/4 mile away from the entrance to the highway and if I was lucky, I could find someone passing by who would stop and pick me up. 

 

I heard the sound of motorcycles revving in the distance but I didn’t stop running until I exited the deep woods and stood at the edge of the highway on the other side of the guard rails. Traffic was far from heavy, but the roads weren’t deserted with a few family cars heading up to the Berkshires for the weekend. 

 

I climbed over the guard rail, listening for the choking and heaving of the motorcycle mufflers  and waiting for the right time to dash across the road. I stuck my thumb out as I waited, hoping for one of the two options to work out for me. 

 

My heart raced faster, my eyes snapped wider taking in every detail of the landscape from the tall evergreen trees to the leafy green maples to the dust kicked up by the Volvo rushing past. I stuck my arm out and waved but nobody stopped.

 

When I got a break in the road I started to sprint.

 

“Gotcha,” the voice came first them I felt the arms around me.

 

“AHHHHH!”

 

Heath. He’d caught up with me.

 

“Stop squirming and this will over soon.”

 

“LET. ME. GO.”

 

I shrieked.

 

I kicked back and struggled against him. Having height, weight and size as an advantaged meant I was powerless against him. It’s not like I couldn’t throw a punch mind you. With Trey, we’d had to defend ourselves a few times as we rode across the country from bar fights to fending off muggers. 

 

Heath stood a full foot taller than my 5’6” and he kept his body in immaculate physical condition. I screamed and kicked again but he pulled me deeper into the woods, back towards the gas station.

 

“Pull shit like that again and I’ll strip you down and leave you on the side of the road,” he growled.

 

“PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOWN! HEEELLLLPPPP!” I screamed.

 

“Shut up!” He growled.

 

“I’ll shut up when you put me down!”

 

“You tried to run. You lost the right to stand on your own two feet when you did that.”

 

Gasping for breath and desperate to stop his thick muscular arms from crushing me, I whimpered, “If you put me down I won’t run. I’ll go with you.”

 

He dropped me and I fell to the ground, screaming as my back hit.

 

“Get up,” he growled.

 

“OW!”

 

I sat up and glared at him as I got to my feet and dusted my hands off.

 

“That hurt.”

 

“Listen up missy.”

 

“What?”

 

“I won you fair and square… You aren’t going anywhere unless I tell you to.”

 

“It’s illegal to hold people captive you know.”

 

He chuckled, “Yeah, ‘cause I’m a real good guy right? Like Trey?”

 

“Don’t bring up Trey.”

 

Heath chuckled again, “I’ll bring up Trey if I want to princess. You’re mine.”

 

He snarled the word mine with such vitriol I flinched. 

 

“Y’know the way back is much faster running than walking.”

 

Heath chuckled, “Nice try. Make a run for it again and you’ll regret it.”

 

“Won’t be my only regrets,” I mumbled.

 

“Hush. Too much talking.”

 

The rest of the way back to the gas station we walked in silence. Heath walked behind me with his quiet long stride. When I burst through the trees fear gripped my chest again. 

 

“Keep moving. Say nothing.”

 

I nodded and kept going. Angie and Jacob straddled their bikes, visors turned up as they watched me.

 

“How far’d she get?” Angie asked with a wicked smile.

 

“Not very I bet,” Clay added.

 

The entire bunch of them laughed again and clinked their soda cans against each other before chugging them down and dropping the cans on the ground.

 

“Ready to ride outta here?” Don asked.

 

Heath grunted, “Yeah.”

 

“Get her on the back of your bike and make sure she doesn’t try anything else,” Rhys drawled with his thick Texas accent, “I’m sick of this. When you made that bet—” 

 

“Quiet,” Heath growled, “I don’t want a lecture.”

 

Angie nodded and gestured Rhys away from us.

 

“C’mon, leave him alone before he hits you again.”

 

Heath smirked at that. Angie got on her bike and led the charge, speeding out of the gas station with Jacob behind her.

 

“She gives too many orders for a woman,” Clay grumbled.

 

He and Don bumped fists and laughed, flicking down their visors and revving their engines into action. Heath turned around to face me before getting on.

 

“No more funny business.”

 

“Yeah. Whatever.”

 

“Listen,” he growled, “If your stupid boyfriend hadn’t bet you like a fuckin’ poker chip, you wouldn’t be here. So blame him.”

 

“He’s NOT my boyfriend!”

 

“Do I look like I give a rat’s ass? Boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, fuckin’ preacher, whoever the fuck he is, he owes me ten thousand dollars.”

 

“What if I could give you ten thousand dollars?”

 

He grunted and laughed.

 

“You don’t have ten grand. Put the helmet on and hold tight missy.”

 

He slammed his helmet on and flipped the visor down after handing me mine. I put it on. He was right. This was Trey’s fault. Trey had lost the right to call me his boyfriend the moment he’d traded me over to the leader of his rival gang. He’d apologized — of course, he always apologized — but that time I’d had enough of him..

 

Tensions had been flaring between me and Trey for a while. I’d been waiting for the chance and as I kicked and screamed slung over Heath Danger’s shoulder, there seemed to be no better time.

 

I straddled the bike, wrapping my arms around him. He adjusted my grasp and revved the bike up. The sound was like a drug to me. I squeezed tight as he started down the highway getting faster and faster until he caught up with the rest of the gang.

 

I grabbed onto his coat, my fingers cold without gloves. The scent of leather and dirt wafted in through the helmet. My faux leather jacket barely protected me from the elements. 60 mph. 70 mph. We were all headed west over 80, each of the dragons as fearless and furious as the wind.

 

Sunset approached and they’d have to stop again soon — this time for sleep. I hadn’t planned to be with them so long. My escape attempt failed and I feared what they’d do to me if I tried again. But if we stopped for the night, I’d have another chance. I clung to Heath until we stopped just after sunset.

 

“Let’s get some grub then we’ll head to the house,” Jacob said once the bikes had been parked.

 

“Did any of you stupid fucks tell Hannah about her?” Angie asked, jutting her chin towards me.

 

“I’ll deal with Hannah. Jake, keep your girl in line,” Heath growled.

 

“What the fuck did you say to me?” Angie asked, folding her arms. 

 

Jacob stepped between them.

 

“Hey, hey can you two cool it for a sec?”

 

Don grunted, “Keep her quiet. We’ll eat. Heath will deal with Han.”

 

Clay nodded, “Sounds good.”

 

We walked inside the Ponderosa and Heath chose our seats, ignoring the chipper hostesses direction.

 

They all ordered and as directed, I stayed quiet. I didn’t think they’d feed me but Heath got me my own steak dinner. I’d barely eaten all day so I didn’t mind staying silent while I wolfed down the entire steak, the mediocre mashed potatoes and the horrible coleslaw. 

 

Who knows when I’d get my next meal, especially if I managed to break away in the middle of the night. So far Heath hadn’t been cruel but I was still his prisoner.

 

Once I was done, Angie slammed down a little over a hundred on the table and tipped the waitress a fifty. The money they’d made for their last deal covered the gang as they traveled across the country to California to make another deal with Angie’s step-brother in L.A. 

 

I got back on the bike and we entered the small blue house with the white door one after the other after the men parked their bikes. Hannah wore nothing but a thin camisole with her nipples poking through and yoga pants. Her hair was a mess, she reeked of menthols and she kept itching her wrists as she told us which rooms we’d have.

 

“What’s her story?” Hannah asked about me.

 

“Mine,” was all Heath said. He didn’t answer any questions about me after that. I knew better than to open my mouth and speak when I hadn’t been spoken to.

 

He marched me upstairs and pointed towards an air mattress on the radiator.

 

“This is our room.”

 

“Our?!”

 

“Listen cupcake this ain’t the fucking Ritz Carlton.”

 

He prodded me until I entered the room. 

 

“Get on the mattress.”

 

“What?” 

 

I turned to face him, fists clenched, ready to fight him off if I had to.

 

“Get. On. The. Mattress.”

 

My chest heaved with my anxious breathing and I stood my ground.

 

“No.”

 

He grabbed me by the wrist and sat me down on the mattress. I squealed as my back sank into the rubber. He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his jacket and handcuffed me to the radiator.

 

“That’s so you don’t try to make a run for it while we talk business.”

 

I shook my arm and rattled the handcuffs against the radiator. Heath smiled.

 

“No making a fool out of me tonight,” he growled, “Stay nice and quiet and we won’t have any trouble.” 

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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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Complete List Of Full-Length BWWM Paperbacks By Jamila Jasper | Interracial Romance Collectors Rejoice!

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Welcome to my master list of BWWM romance novels I have published as Paperbacks. I'll give you the direct link to buying Jamila Jasper on Paperback. All paperback books are 5"x8" so that your collection has a portable, uniform look.

"Bookmark" this page as I'll update it often as I work on expanding my catalog to have a further reach.

The list will take you from "most recent" to least recent releases. If you have a book that you want to see as a paperback that isn't currently available, COMMENT on this post.

I take my customers wants seriously and aim to make reading my books a comfortable and easy experience for you.

Read more to get all the links you need in one convenient location:

Complete Paperback Collection by Jamila Jasper 

 

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This is the end of my full-length novel paperback list. If you'd like to see a novel as a paperback that isn't available, please comment on this post down below. I take my customer's inquiries seriously and will work to make the book available for you as soon as it's possible.