Romance Novel Excerpts | Book #7 | Parisian Billionaire Brotherhood - Interracial Billionaire Romance Novel
Book 2 of the dark bad boy romance series BWWM Captive Series, makes an impact on interracial romance readers who love romantic stories and couldn't wait for the launch of one of our best contemporary romance novels. Ex Con's Captive is everything we have been waiting for after Book 1, SEAL's Captive...
This book follows the story of the second Jackson sister, Tyra Jackson. Unlike her sister, Gigi, Tyra has had a tougher life than most. She's used her loud-mouth and her spitfire temper to shield her from all the hurt she's been exposed to in life. Her father's death leaves her an heiress but it's not a status she's comfortable with at all.
Tyra can be impulsive, which makes for an explosive dynamic between her and her captor, Leon Wilkins. The chemistry between the two is instant and volatile, with the contrast between Tyra's outspoken ways and Leon's reserved stoicism. Set far away from life in America, Ex Con's Captive will take this African American beauty all over Eastern Africa, from Nairobi to Kampala, and even through Tanzania. Get relaxed to read the FREE sample of this steamy hot August 2018 interracial romance release from bestselling Author, Jamila Jasper.
Romance Novel Excerpts: Ex Con's Captive | Book #2 BWWM Captive Series
Goodbye to Gigi wasn’t easy. I’d only just grown accustomed to having a sister and saying goodbye so soon had never been a part of my plan. She zoomed off in a taxi and left me standing next to Dinah.
“Think she’ll be okay?” I asked.
“Of course,” Dinah smiled, “Of course she’ll be okay. “
“I dunno. She’s taking it hard…”
Dinah smirked, “Listen, I’ve got people looking after her.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“People? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t have to worry.”
I didn’t get along with Dinah as well as I got along with Gigi. I found her standoffish and she spoke as if she knew everything. If she knew so damn much, why didn’t she just tell us instead of being so cryptic and speaking in code?
“C’mon,” Dinah said, “Let’s head inside. We still have guests.”
We walked back inside when one of Dinah’s staff approached her with a worried look on her face. She touched Dinah’s arm and whispered into her ear. Dinah’s expression twisted with worry and she thanked her housekeeper before returning to my side.
I worried about my mama back in California. She’d never been without me for this long and with my younger brothers (half-brothers) off on their tour of duty, she needed me now more than ever.
Yup, my mama had more kids when I was sixteen years old and my brothers were just old enough to pick up guns and serve their country.
“There’s a storm. We’ve just had word a hurricane is going to hit tomorrow.”
“In Costa Rica?”
“Off the coast. It’s unusual but… not impossible.”
“I’m supposed to leave tomorrow morning!”
“Sorry Tyra. You’re welcome to stay here the night.”
I had no desire to stay in Dinah’s cold, Costa Rican mansion any longer than I had to. I was never close to my father and if I had to be honest, I came to collect my inheritance and meet my sisters, who I’d met only a handful of times during my life. The mansion had no life to it. The large beams and open spaces with their operatic acoustics only felt empty to me.
Despite the tropical heat, the humid atmosphere within the concrete megalith chilled me to the bone. I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders and returned past the manicured palm trees and bougainvillea gardens to the guests. My father’s associates all imbued me with a sense of deep discomfort. When one man grabbed my hand, my palm shivered with the panic a woodland creature feels before being squeezed by an anaconda.
I stuck to Dinah’s side the rest of the evening. I could sense her growing frustration with me, but I couldn’t bear to mill about with the black-suited dementors whose soul-sucking interest in wealth alone was practically palpable to me. I reached for my phone, hoping to steal away for a few minutes to call my mother. No bars. Right — the hurricane.
Dinah had attempted an escape, but I spotted her across the room talking to a short, latino man, one of the ones who had spoken at the funeral. He had a scar across his eye and chilling anthracite eyes.
“Tyra, have you met Luciano?”
The name rang a bell. He’d spoken and given one of my father Jerome’s eulogies.
“Ah, I don’t believe so.”
He reached out his hand, licking his lips before greeting me.
“Beautiful Tyra. I remember your mother.”
“Oh, thanks. Hi.”
“I’m Luciano. I’m leaving. I must get out of here before the storm hits.”
His thick accent belied his perfect diction.
“Safe drive,” I replied.
He chuckled, “I doubt it.”
He hugged Dinah and we watched him leave together.
“Scary, isn’t he?” Dinah whispered.
“You could say so.”
“Harmless. I’ve known him since I was a child.”
I didn’t think growing up in this environment, Dinah had any clue what safety meant, but I didn’t question her. Drinking and partying continued until the wee hours of the morning. Dinah and I were the last to retire, except for the wait staff who now had the funeral of a century to clean up after.
Dinah yawned as we ascended the marble staircase.
“Daddy would have hated this,” she mused.
I didn’t know our father well enough to say otherwise.
“I’ve arranged a private company to take you to the airport tomorrow. You won’t miss your flight.”
“What about the storm?”
“They say it’s swung north. We’re safe.”
I exhaled a sigh of relief and caught another yawn from Dinah.
“Sleep tight. I’ll send Ana up in the morning to take your breakfast order.”
“Sorry, we didn’t get to hang out much this time.”
I doubted there would be a "next time". Since we’d grown, “next time” never materialized the way it had when we were younger.
Dinah went to bed, leaving me in my suite. I wandered around with my phone for a while, flipping my braids out of my face as I pressed it against the window.
Nothing. Nothing. I shuffled to the left. Nothing. I shuffled to the right. Ah! Yes!
I called my mama’s number, feasting on the melody of the warbled dial tone.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
“Mama, it’s me? Can’t you see the number?”
“Ain’t it late?”
“Girl you done woke me up.”
“Sorry. There was a storm…”
The line crackled.
“I hope you’re staying safe.”
“Yes. I’m gonna make my flight tomorrow. Signal’s really bad so I won’t call most likely.”
“Okay. I’ll be at the airport with Steven.”
My mama had been trying to force her new boyfriend Steven down my throat for the past eight months and it wasn’t going well.
“Steven? Why?” I huffed.
“He’s my man. Maybe if you had a man, you wouldn’t be worried about my man,” my mom started.
I rolled my eyes and ignored her as she trailed off into a rant about how I needed to get laid more so I would stop getting all “up in her business”.
“I just don’t like Steven!” I interrupted.
“Uh huh? You just have a problem with an old lady like me getting busy six nights a week.”
“Mama gross!” I yelled.
“Well it’s true,” she mumbled.
Hoping to spare myself any more disturbing details about my mother’s sex life, I made an excuse and hung up the phone. My mama had been a famous super-model in London, parlaying her olive green eyes and tanned skin into an international career. She’d been in magazines, met the Versace siblings and partied until addiction yanked everything underneath her and sent her spiraling towards rock bottom.
Money corrupts. She’d ended up with a baby — me — a few leaked porn tapes that had excluded her from high society in Los Angeles, and a ten year battle with cocaine and heroin that had only ended once she got pregnant with me. She’d raised me well, but there were times she couldn’t shake the wild child inside of her off. Without me to look after her, I didn’t think she’d make it.
I needed to get back. Steven, her new man, was a former pimp. I suspected he hadn’t left the pimping behind and I needed to get back to her so I could use my inheritance to find proof of who Steven was and chase him away from my mama. She deserved better.
I stayed awake all night thinking about my mama, Steven, and my now deceased father. Jerome had never been a good man to her. My sisters didn’t know it, but he’d paid good money for the night he spent with my mother. He’d only cared about her once the baby was born. Up until he got a paternity test to prove I was his, he’d spent every moment denying me and calling my mama a dirty hooker when he was the one who had paid for her.
You could see why I didn’t tell my sisters…
My mama got on my case for not getting laid but I would have stayed celibate for my whole life if it meant not ending up with a man like my daddy.
My eyes burned in the morning. A knock slammed against my door. I slid out of bed and ordered a simple breakfast — local Costa Rican bread, avocado, scrambled eggs, fresh mango slices and sparkling water. While Dinah’s housekeeper prepared breakfast, I showered and prepared for my flight.
The tropical weather messed up my braids and I knew my mama would comment on my hair the moment I landed in Los Angeles. I took a quick shower, tied my braids up into a tight high bun and wrapped a silk scarf around my forehead to hide my less than perfect edges.
I couldn’t wait to get back to LA where I could wear makeup every day without melting it off. Not even my acrylics survived the weather and the French manicure on my toes were my only ties to good looks that remained.
Breakfast came to me on white platters and I ate in bed. After thirty minutes, the housekeeper entered my room and informed me that Dinah hadn’t slept well and she wouldn’t be getting out of bed to say goodbye.
“Are you sure I can’t sneak in there?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, “Dinah is sleeping.”
“Your driver is downstairs,” she said.
“Yes. You leave early.”
Discomfort knotted my stomach.
“Can I at least leave her a note?” I asked.
“No,” the housekeeper replied firmly.
“Come on,” she smiled, sensing my discomfort, “Let’s go.”
I followed her, tugging my suitcase behind me and deciding whether or not I should make a break for it and say goodbye to Dinah anyway. I decided against bothering her. I didn’t feel we were close enough to justify it.
I followed Dinah’s dark-haired housekeeper outside to the black car with tinted windows that awaited.
“This is it?”
The driver got out of the car and approached the housekeeper with an envelope. She took it and scurried off. I squinted in the sunlight trying to get a good look at him. The rays blinded me enough that I couldn’t quite see his face. He was pale, freckled and wore thick sunglasses that obscured much of his face.
He didn’t smile.
He opened the front door for me rather than the back. This wasn’t the custom in America, but figuring it was just cultural, I entered the car. He sternly got into the front seat and I tried to work my best Spanish on him.
It’s impossible to live in LA without picking up a little bit of Spanish.
“Buenos días,” he replied in a thick Costa Rican accent.
His voice surprised me as his skin tone was one usually found amongst foreigners or expatriates. However, his accent sounded natural, like he’d been raised in the jungle.
As we drove out of the driveway, a thicket of trees clamored together overhead. He reached for a toothpick and stuck it in his mouth, gripping the steering wheel loosely as we drove.
“Where are we headed?”
He didn’t reply.
“Cómo te llamas?”
“Eso es francés, no?”
Not much of a talker, I presumed. Too bad. I had been nervous among my father’s contemporaries but I usually charmed the pants off most people in the real world (not the wealthy world). I’d talk to cab drivers, janitors, and I knew the homeless people on my block like we were family.
Maybe now, I could do something for them, I thought to myself.
I leaned back in the seat, resigning myself to a three-hour early morning drive without a lick of conversation. When we hit the highway, Leon started to speed. The roads wound around and after a few minutes, when I caught hold of my stomach again, I noticed we weren’t getting deeper into the city, but further away from it.
My heart sank. I hadn’t thought much about the envelope exchanged between Leon and Dinah’s housekeeper. The incident flashed into my mind with worry. Oh hell no…
I’d watched hundreds of hours of newsreels about women being kidnapped and sold into sex slavery. In that instant, that was all that flashed into my mind: being sold as a piece of meat for some sicko who would make me regret the rest of my living days.
I went ballistic.
“WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?!” I shrieked.
“Señora, en español?”
“En fuckin’ español? WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME. DONDE?”
“CALM DOWN, ANSWER THE QUESTION NOW! DONDE?”
“Señora, cálmate!” He growled.
Oh, he wanted to get angry? I did what any rational person wouldn’t do. I reached over, grabbing the steering wheel and swerved the car off the road, dragging the wheel to the left and screaming as the car went flying off the edge of the road.
Phew! This story is already getting crazy. Are you ready to continue reading it right away? I won't hold you up.
Amazon readers: https://amzn.to/2UrRwTZ
The third and final installment in the BWWM Captive Series is finally here. We'll be closing out the novel with the final installment to this rockin' trilogy that follows the crazy stories of Gigi Jackson (Book 1, Seal's Captive) and Tyra Jackson (Book 2, Ex Con's Captive). These sisters have taken us around the world, okay?! In Book 1, we found ourselves in Costa Rica and in Book 2, we went all the way to Nairobi, Kenya with some part of the book in Uganda (Kampala) and Tanzania.
It's been an incredible journey to Book 3 for me and I've spent many months tweaking the ending that I originally wanted to write a story that wasn't just about Dinah, but tied in the other three sisters so that you can all get final CLOSURE on the girls we have come to love throughout this year...
What I can promise you in Dinah's book is that she's nothing like the reserved and shy Gigi or the loud-mouthed troublemaking Tyra. She's a breed of her own thanks to her upbringing by her CRAZY RICH father. This book explores what that life on the "dark economy" is like.
Did you know that it's common for many rulers in ancient times to only surround themselves with female guards because they believed women are more trustworthy? There was no better woman for Jerome to trust than his own daughter so he turned her into the woman he needed her to be... a cold-blooded assassin. And yes, Jerome technically recruited "child soldiers" to protect his multi-million dollar fortune. This book delves into the depths of what this wealthy man left behind and how his daughter will manage to pick up the pieces of having grown up stronger than any woman she knows and struggling to let other people -- especially men -- into her life.
I don't want to spoil how the story ends for you, so without further ado, thank you for reading this far and I hope you enjoy the absolutely delicious teaser I'm posting below. Warning, you WILL be teased, so expect to end the sample wanting more (desperately).
Romance Novel Excerpts: Hitman's Captive | Book #3 BWWM Captive Series
“Miss Jackson, it’s handled.”
“What did they say?”
“They asked about the funeral.”
“There’s not going to be a funeral. My remains are…”
“I said they were lost at sea.”
“With all due respect Miss Jackson, due to the short notice of your departure, I cannot guarantee that the truth will stay hidden from them at all.”
“I understand, Stephanie. But you know that I don’t have a choice here.”
“We always have a choice, Dinah.”
“You’re Jerome’s daughter. I understand that. But your father is dead…”
“Exactly. And just like people came after Gigi and Tyra, they’ll come after me. You and I both know that I’ve done far worse than being Jerome’s daughter.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know. Consider this a semi-permanent retirement. When trouble has died down, I’ll consider coming back.”
“Elsa misses you.”
I leaned back in the red velvet seats on the jet, trying not to think of Elsa.
“Elsa is a dog. She doesn’t understand anything. She’s just happy as long as she gets her food every day.”
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
“Listen, Stephanie. We’re about to land. I’ll be back on the grid in twenty.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“Yes, the island looks the same. But somehow colder.”
Stephanie chuckled, “She looks colder every time.”
“When is the last time you’ve been back?”
“I don’t know. Years. Not since Wy—”
“You can say his name, Stephanie.”
“Not since Wyatt was around.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope he doesn’t think to look for me here.”
“He won’t. We took measures to ensure that he’ll never find you.”
“Promise me, Stephanie, you’ll make sure he doesn’t.”
“Good. I gotta go now.”
“Be safe, Dinah.”
“I will be. You know that.”
“Yes. But you have a funny habit of getting into trouble, don’t you?”
“I’m my father’s daughter. I can’t help that.”
“If you don’t hear from me in three days, worry.”
Stephanie hung up and I wandered down the aisle of the jet, popping into the pilot’s cabin.
“Closing in, Jerry?”
“Yes. It’s tough landing her today. Snowstorm comin’ in tomorrow, I’m sure you heard.”
“The house survived the winter of ’09 just fine.”
“I’m gonna miss you, Jerry.”
“Don’t believe that.”
“We’ve flown all over the world together.”
Jerry shrugged, “Coulda been any other lug Mr. Jackson hired.”
“But you’ve always been my pilot. Always.”
“You’ve grown up into a fine young lady.”
The plane approached the ground and I grew quiet as I watched Jerry take her in closer, flying the private plane smoothly to avoid bumps and discomfort. Our first flight together had been a nightmare compared to this one. With daddy dead, all of us would scatter to our little corner of the globe and hope that we could live without trouble for once.
“If you need me, call my place in Hafnarfjörður.”
“It’s only a three hour flight.”
“Exactly. I’ll miss ya kiddo. But it’s for the best.”
“I know. That’s what I told Stephanie.”
Jerry snorted at the mention of Stephanie’s name.
“She still think you should stay in the tropics so they can hunt you down like deer?” He asked gruffly.
“She wants me to stay.”
“Not a chance. YOu’re too smart for that. And you’re right to come here. Nowhere is safer than Avalon.”
I didn’t respond and a few moments later, the plane landed on the strip, a mile away from the island’s main house.
“Bundle up, missy.”
I wrapped my scarf around my face and pulled up the hood on my jacket so it warmed my ears. Jerry opened the plane doors and walked me down the stairs. He stared at me for a moment on the tarmac with tears in his eyes.
“Years. You’ll be here alone for years, Dinah. I just… I can’t imagine what your father would think.”
“He would understand. This is what he would have wanted.”
“I suppose you’re right. I suppose it’s safest.”
“If I’m with the rest of the world, they’ll track me down and when they’re done, they’ll kill all my sisters. I have no choice.”
“I know. I know.”
He hugged me and salty tears ran down his stubbly cheek onto my cheek as we pressed our faces together. I squeezed Jerry tightly, not wanting to let go. For a split second, I realized he was the last remaining parental figure that I had and I would have to say goodbye to him and to everything I knew.
I finally pulled away, sniffling and disguising my own tears from him.
“Promise me you’ll stay in touch.”
“And stay out of trouble.”
“Sure you don’t want me to drive you to the house?”
“No. I can handle it.”
What happens next?! This month, you can find the extended version of this chapter as well as TEASER #2 on my Patreon. For as little as $1.49/month gain instant access to the rest of this sample, as well as 100+ posts with previous eBook samples, private blog posts, full-length short stories, and some full-length short audiobooks.
Take the plunge and join the private Patreon family here: www.patreon.com/jamilajasper
Just want to take a look at some more 100% FREE content? Check out the trailer to this book here: smarturl.it/HitmanTrailer
Get more information about this book or click to buy after December 21st: smarturl.it/HitmansCaptive
Our best time of year for contemporary romance novels has just come around and I have something fresh and hot to share with you. This basketball + pregnancy romance is perfect for fans of Love And Basketball, Basketball Wives, or any fans of NBA teams. This book follows the fictional Kansas Sundevils player, Rex Irving and his romantic relationship with the last person on earth he expected: his best friend's pregnant ex-girlfriend.
This book drips with lust and love that you expect from amazing romance novels with African American characters. Lydia Lowell, the female main character is a dark-skinned ex-model with flawless skin and a struggle to carve out a stable life for her unborn child. If you love beautiful romance novels saturated with the best contemporary fiction out there, check out this story between a black woman and a white man in a world that's darker and grittier than either of them could have ever imagined.
Here's the official book description:
My three interests are fighting, drinking and f##king.
When my best friend’s pregnant ex-girlfriend turns up at my doorstep, getting involved is the last thing on my mind.
Lydia isn’t like other women.
She doesn’t care what any man thinks of her, least of all me.
No one says no to Rex Irving.
I don’t care if she promises to never date another baller again.
I know just the way to change her mind.
Black Bride White Baller Romance Novel Excerpt:
Hank’s fingers snaked through my braids and he yanked my head to the left, slamming my body into his apartment wall.
“OUCH! You’re hurting me!”
“SHUT UP AND I’LL LET GO!”
“Fuck off, Hank!”
“I’ll make you pay, Lydia, I swear to God…”
“I’m pregnant with your child. I dare you nigga! I dare you!”
He punched the wall next to my face. I screamed and ducked, running down the hallway of Hank’s apartment, racing for the bedroom where I could barricade myself in when he calmed down.
“I swear to God, Lydia…”
I reached the bedroom door before him, but at seven feet, three inches tall, Hank could grab me from across the room, and he did, grabbing the back of my neck and yanking me back.
“Where. Is. It,” he growled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You know, Lydia. You knew where it was.”
“Can’t you get a new one made?”
“I swear, I didn’t take it.”
“I left it right inside that vase. Right there”
“Maybe one of your side-pieces took it!”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Let go of me.”
He released my arm from his grip and I grabbed it, rubbing the area where his fingers had pressed into my skin.
“This is how you treat the mother of your child?”
“I’m sorry, Lydia.”
“You’re always fuckin’ sorry.”
“I mean it,” Hank said, walking to the kitchen and pouring himself a full glass of Hennessy.
“No. I want you to stop drinking.”
“Shut up, Lydia.”
He drank and my heart quickened. I’d come here with a plan. As usual, Hank had gone crazy on me, and I was having second thoughts. Only this time, I’d practiced for every scenario with my best friend, Tiana. She was just a phone call away in case Hank went crazy.
“You have a game tomorrow. What do you think your coach will say if you show up drunk?”
“I said, shut up.”
I reached for my keys inside my bag, pushing them between my fingers in case I needed an easy weapon.
“Why do you even need that key?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I didn’t take it.”
“Whatever, Lydia. I don’t want to talk about it. Now get dressed. I told the team we’d meet them at the club.”
“I said get dressed,” Hank snarled.
“What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me,” I replied, my hands trembling as I gripped my keys fiercely.
Hank polished off his Hennessy and approached me, the cognac on his breath churned my stomach.
“What did you say, Lydia?”
“I’m not going to the club.”
“Because it’s over, Hank. I’m dumping you.”
He laughed. It wasn’t a polite or awkward chuckle but a deep laugh with a vibrato that shook Hank Humphries’ high ceiling kitchen.
“I’m not joking. It’s over. And I’m leaving.”
“You’re pregnant. Where the hell are you gonna go?”
“I dunno,” I lied.
Hank snickered, “Great plan. Pregnant ex-model homeless in New York City. I’m sure you’ll have clients lining down the block.”
“That’s not funny, Hank. And anyway, I don’t care what you think. I’ll send Tiana on the weekend to collect my things.”
He glanced over at me and saw my pursed lips and shaking arms.
“You expect me to stop you?”
“No,” I lied.
“Good. Get out of here. You’ll just be a trash whore knocked up by Hank Humphries. It’ll be the best fucking thing that ever happened to you.”
I saw him for the pathetic man he was and for a moment, I nearly felt sorry for him.
“Try to quit drinking, Hank.”
“Get out. If you’re leaving, get out.”
I walked towards the front door of his apartment but before I could reach the door to the penthouse, Hank was behind me. I reached for the front door and he grabbed my other hand, throwing me up against the wall again. I cried out as my head slammed against the wall.
“Why are you doing this now, huh Lydia? Are you sleeping with one of my team mates? Are you choking on another guy’s cock…”
“Let me go…”
“Tell me,” he growled, “Now.”
I stared into his deep brown eyes with resentment.
“No. I promise.”
“Good. Because that pussy is mine. Whether you like it or not, it’s mine forever.”
He let go of me forcefully and I nearly lost my balance.
“Get out of my house, whore.”
I made it to the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief. After five years, I’d managed to shake Hank Humphries, and its as all because of my baby — all because of her. I touched a hand to my stomach and smiled as I walked away. No more Hank. I’d finally done it. Once I got closer to the elevator, I felt freer.
I walked outside and prepared to walk the mile or so back to my place. I reached for my phone and called Tiana as soon as I was on the street.
“Yeah. It’s surreal. I finally did it.”
“Good. Did you bring up Bali?”
“Fuck him. Did he lay hands on you?” Tiana asked.
“No… Well, yeah. A little bit,” I admitted. Tiana made me promise I’d stop lying about when Hank went too far with me.
“Fuck that bastard.”
“He’s still the father of my child,” I reminded her.
“I could do worse. He’s in the NBA.”
“He’s a deadbeat,” Tiana reminded me, “They’re all deadbeats.”
“So fuck them!”
“Are you home?”
“K, I gotta go so call me once you’re home?”
“Love you girlie!”
Tiana left me in bliss for the walk home. Yes, I’d caught my man cheating on me while I was four months pregnant with his baby, after we’d gone through so much to have this kid, but that wasn’t even the worst part of our relationship, just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
My feet were heavy as I climbed the stairs up to my apartment, much smaller than Hank’s on a sketchier, more fragrant side of town. As I approached the door, I noticed a piece of paper stuck to it.
These Jehovah’s Witnesses at it again, I thought to myself.
I didn’t mind the kind old ladies and their faith so much as I wished they would stop leaving pamphlets taped to my door. As I got closer, I got a sinking feeling that Jehovah’s Witnesses didn’t have red pamphlets and “EVICTION NOTICE” probably wasn’t one of those obscure books of the Bible either. I grabbed the piece of paper and ripped it off the door, rereading it over and over again.
“This serves as notice that you have been evicted from the premises, effective immediately. Please speak to the manager to begin the process of moving your belongings. Your presence on this property without permission of the manager is a crime, and the authorities will be called.”
Bullshit. I paid my rent on time, every month and I’d never so much as smoked inside the building. Evicted? Like this? No way in hell. I chucked the paper on the ground and stuck my key in the lock. I rattled it.
“What the hell,” I muttered out loud to myself.
I rattled the key in the lock again. The key didn’t budge. I picked up my cellphone and called my landlord, a chubby, short white woman who lived in yoga pants, messy buns and twenty year old New Balance sneakers.
“Kathy? It’s me, Lydia.”
“Oh hey Lyd, what can we do for ya?”
“I just uh… showed up at my apartment after a day away and there was an eviction notice pinned to my door and uh… my key won’t work.”
“Well uh. This has to be some sort of mistake. Can you check?”
“Jerry’s out of town, but he’s got a whole system, I’m sure it’s not a mistake.”
“Is your husband here in LA?”
“Uh huh. He must have changed the locks.”
“Could I call him, get them changed back? Kathy, you can check the direct deposits, I’ve never been late on a payment, I swear.”
“Call Jerry, 555-4322”
I hung up, my hands trembling. Kathy’s reaction hadn’t exactly been apologetic or reassuring. I called Jerry.
“Heya, who is this?”
“It’s Lydia Lowell, your tenant in the Hamilton Estate Complex.”
“Oh Lydia! What’s goin’ on?”
“I got home today to an eviction notice on my door.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a mistake. I’m not behind on rent or anything.”
“According to Ryan in accounting, you are.”
“I’m not though. I pay by check every month. The money comes out of my account.”
“Hm. I’ll have to look into that. I’ll call you back tomorrow and we’ll see if we can sort it out.”
“Tomorrow? Jerry, listen, maybe you don’t understand… My key doesn’t work. I can’t get into my apartment. At all.”
“What about that fella of yours, the Sundevil.”
“Hank and I broke up.”
“Oh, sorry to hear about that ma’am.”
“Jerry, where am I supposed to go tonight? Can’t you call your guy and find out what’s going on?”
“No can do. I got a business dinner with some developers from Denver.”
“Thanks, Jerry. Thanks.”
I hung up and slammed my phone against the wall with a frustrated groan, lucky that I didn’t crack it. Great. I couldn’t go home, I couldn’t go to Hank’s and I was getting tired of standing on my feet. The first trimester had been hell and so far the second wasn’t any better.
I called Tiana.
“Hey girl, I’m home. But I have some bad news.”
“Is it Hank?”
“No. There’s been some kind of fuck up with my landlord and they served me an eviction notice, changed the lock and everything.”
“Damn girl, what happened?”
“I don’t know. It’s a mistake. I just — I’m pregnant. I can’t handle this right now!”
“Come down here.”
“My money’s inside, I only got about $20.”
“I told you I don’t use Uber anymore,” I snapped.
“Sheesh, calm down! One Uber driver grabs your ass and you’re willing to throw the whole thing out the window.”
“Sorry, I don’t want to deal with creeps right now, Tiana. I’m pregnant and hormonal and having the worst goddamn day.”
“Okay. Fine. Walk down here then. Can you handle it?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Great. I’ll wait for you. But Felix and I wanted to take you out.”
“I don’t want to go out…”
“You have to. You got dumped by Hank Humphries, the media is going to be on this shit.”
“I don’t care about the media. I’m going to be a mom. I want a good life for me and my baby, that’s it.”
“Your baby will never have to worry about a damn thing.”
“Fine. I’m on my way.”
“Good. But no drinking for you!”
“Of course not.”
“Ciao, girlie!” Tiana shrilled before hanging up.
I started walking towards Tiana’s place, a long way away from mine on foot. I felt like a fool, adorned in Yeezy sneakers and a Gucci bag but with only $20 in my pocket and an NBA player’s baby. I’d become a stereotype for L.A. Models and the love that I’d been seeking was nowhere to be found. I stomped on the eviction notice, causing the orange paper to rip as I stormed away.
At night, the sweltering heat of Los Angeles in the summer cooled to a tolerable but smoggy climate. I walked as fast as I could, hoping to get to Tiana’s place before dark. Dark fell before I’d completely a third of my journey. I reached into my purse for my phone, hoping that I could convince her to meet me at a café a little further away from her place so we could walk together. I pulled my phone out when I heard footsteps behind me.
They were too close and too fast for me to react. I felt the cold steel press into my belly. My baby.
“Give me your fuckin’ purse.”
My body shook from head to toe.
“Give me the fuckin’ phone.”
He yanked the purse off my shoulder and I handed him the phone, my body trembling as I didn’t dare to move.
“Now the Yeezys. Take off the fuckin’ Yeezys.”
He prodded my side with the gun.
“Okay, okay, fine.”
“These ugly fuckin’ shoes go for about $300, don’t they?”
I didn’t bother answering as I shamefully stripped down to my white socks.
“Good. Now you stand still missy and if you dare turn around, I’ll blow your fuckin’ face in.”
“Okay. Fine. I won’t turn around.”
He ran off in the opposite direction. By the time I dared to turn around, the street was empty and I stood all alone with no way of calling Tiana, no shoes, and no purse. There went my emergency $20. I kept walking, hugging my shoulders and staring off into the distance with a dazed expression. I couldn’t feel the chilly night and my mind was blank as I went through the motions, plodding one foot in front of the other.
A loud car horn blared behind me.
Great, another asshole.
I kept walking and the car pulled alongside me, slowing down.
I didn’t turn and look.
“HEY! Humphries’ chick!”
I jerked my head around. Rex Irving, my ex-boyfriend’s teammate and as I’d guessed, another complete asshole.
“Oh. Hey. Didn’t hear you.”
“Sure. What’s up, where are you shoes?”
“I got time. Where’s Hank?”
“Hank and I are finished.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
His grin indicated otherwise.
“Yeah, you look sorry.”
His grin didn’t falter.
“Where you goin’ with no shoes?”
“The boulevard. My friend Tiana’s place.”
“You’re going to walk forty minutes with no shoes?”
“Why don’t you let me give you a ride?”
“Because I wouldn’t get in a car with another NBA player if you offered me fifty-thousand dollars.”
“Your girl Tiana’s at the club anyway. Thought you should know.”
“I follow her on the ‘gram.”
“Of course you do,” I replied with an exaggerated eye roll which amused Rex.
“What? Everyone knows Tiana Wheeler is smoking hot.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I can handle it.”
“You don’t have a purse. Or a phone. Or shoes. Let me guess, mugging?”
My cheeks grew hot.
“Why don’t you just go home?”
“I got evicted today.”
“Damn. And you still won’t accept my offer for a ride? Hank must have really screwed the pooch.”
“He did. I’m pregnant.”
“Okay, now this is a matter of honor. Get in the car or I’ll honk my horn and I won’t stop until you open that door.”
“Rex, no —”
You can grab a copy of the book here: smarturl.it/BlackBrideWhiteBall
(Before the book launch, this link will take you to a sign up for my mailing list so that you can remain updated the very instant the book goes live on Amazon).
If you loved this free sample and want to read another book opening 100% free, why don't you consider The Biggest Ego? Read the first part of this older woman, younger man billionaire romance here: Click here to read.
Romantic 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
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.”
“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…”
“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…”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.