Romance Novel Excerpts: Devil In Blackmoor Castle

If you’re here, it’s probably because you love romantic stories and you’re caught up in all the exciting fever about the Duchess of Essex, Meghan Markle and her charming husband, Duke of Essex, Harry. The royal romance and the royal wedding have still captured our attention and continue to inspire incredible romance stories! Today, I have a sample for you that’s perfect if you love billionaire romance, contemporary romance, and interracial black woman white man love stories. Keep scrolling for the cover reveal and first excerpt from my upcoming book, Devil In Blackmoor Castle.

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Frederick

I always hated when mother dragged me to the ballet. When we came, there was always pomp and circumstance. I’d have to say goodbye to the Corgis and to afternoons with my Latin governess, and have a servant stuff me into a wool suit and she’d comment on my red hair and call me young master as I scowled. Maybe I just hated leaving Blackmoor. 

My strong opinions weakened against the view I had from our new special seats, roped off with guards seated around us, some surreptitiously and others in plainclothes to diffuse any potential threats that might be lurking in London theater. 

I was wrong about the ballet anyway. I’d hated it before I knew that there were women in it. And these women, although common born, were dazzling enough to catch my eye, even throughout the overdramatic Dracula performance, which I’d watched every October without fail for years. I didn’t care for the plot. I cared for the dancers, with their lithe bodies and their delicate movements which concealed their immense physical strength.

One moment, they’d stand croise dévant and the next, a creature as small as a bird with bones that only appeared twice as brittle, would fling her body across the stage and land with precision that could only be attributed to her strength.

The star of today’s performance was breathtaking. Up on her toes, then down, her face twisted into pain and pleasure as she flung her body off the ground, wrapping her legs around the torso of the overly-muscled nub of a man who held onto her. Her hair, loose and wild, like Dracula’s prisoner, draped over him, a thick sea of luscious black curls. 

He set her down. She craned her back, hair touching the ground as he gripped the small of her waist and then lifted her off the ground, over his shoulders where she landed on the tips of her toes and her feet fluttered and flattened, fluttered and flattened, until she was lifted off the ground again, balanced by the indelicate creature that dared hold her.

Jamie leaned over and plucked me out of the reverie of watching her.

“Haven’t you seen Dracula enough times? I can’t believe you’re actually watching this garbage.”

His wife sat at his other shoulder with their two young children. Alice, the poor duchess, had her hands full with the children, Jane and Richard. She wasn’t speaking to him because she found out about his mistress in Edinburgh. Still, she smiled as she’d been trained to do, the way my wife would be trained to do.

“Mina. She’s beautiful,” I breathed.

Jamie smiled, but didn’t risk talking again. If we said too much, the BBC would have lip-readers dissecting every movement just to speculate at what we were talking about. They hung onto our every word. 

I lived for the pas-de-deux which continued before me. The tortured dance of lovers was the only thing dripping with enough raw sensuality to make ballet watchable. My Mina slipped down Dracula’s back, butter sliding off a waffle. 

I’d never seen a dancer like this one. I could imagine running my hands through her hair, a shadow of her eye-fire. 

The dance continued. The brute, the Dracula who I’d come to despise profoundly in a matter of seconds, held her close to his chest, heaving like a drunken pigeon and then he set her down. She frittered away, toes clicking across the floor as she acted torn and morose. When she was just out of reach, Mina’s love for Dracula pulled her back and she fluttered back into his arms while he lifted her over his head, her body stiff and lifeless, like a corpse. 

She slipped him back into his coffin, her leg extended out and the dress falling delicately forward as she fluttered off stage. 

I couldn’t wait for the show to be finished. Every minute I watched when she wasn’t on the stage was torture. If I stood up and ordered the whole thing done, I could have had it, just to see her. But granny would have been furious if I’d made a scene. At her age, I wanted to avoid spoiling her mood.

The final act was finished. Before the dancers finished bowing and received their applause, I caught my guard’s attention and stalked out the side door towards the backstage.

“Your majesty!” An usher squeaked as she caught sight of me, lowering her knee in a strange low bow. I ignored her, fixated solely on my mission — my Mina.

“Your highness, where are you headed?” My guard asked. Milton Shepherd was accustomed to my whims and fancies.

“Backstage. I need you to find that Mina and bring her to me.”

“The lead ballerina?” 

“You’ve seen Dracula as many times as I have and with better seats than your money could ever buy. Yes, the lead ballerina. Now bring her to me. I’ll be in the car.”

“What am I to tell her?”

“Order to her to come. You’re the Prince of England’s bodyguard. Don’t you think that will be some motivation?” 

Milton’s flat expression belayed his usual unhappiness with my orders. The crown didn’t pay him to be unhappy. I stormed off toward the car, hoping to beat the press or worse, another icy standoff between Jamie and his wife. 

I slid into the back of a white Rolls Royce. Today, we traveled with five of them to avoid detection. If some would-be assassin was hell-bent on killing some powerless heirs to a country, I suppose this was meant to throw him off the trail.

I was just glad not to be in a car with Alice who would be chewing Jamie’s ear off. He could be such a cock sometimes cheating on her like that. Alice already knew about one of his mistresses and she’d cried for weeks, nearly refusing to go out until granny had forced her to make an appearance in The Sun. 

Alice knew what she was getting into marrying a Prince, Granny said, You make sacrifices when you’re the kind of woman who will do anything to be the center of attention.

Ouch. But that was Gran. I leaned back in the car, enjoying the privacy tinted windows afforded against the hoi poloi. Milton would bring her back. 

I didn’t know her real name, so for now, she was Mina. My Mina. 

* * *

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Dark Romance Books | Ex Con's Captive | Book #2 BWWM Captive Series

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

TYRA JACKSON

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.”

“Right…”

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.

“Bad news.”

“How bad?”

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.”

He winked. 

“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 guess.”

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.”

“Thank goodness.”

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.”

“Thanks, Sis.”

“Sorry, we didn’t get to hang out much this time.”

“Next 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!

One bar.

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?”

“Sort of.”

“Girl you done woke me up.”

“Sorry. There was a storm…”

“Hope…y-….safe…”

The line crackled.

“Mama what?”

“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.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“Your driver is downstairs,” she said.

“So soon?”

“Yes. You leave early.”

“Oh… Okay.”

Discomfort knotted my stomach. 

“Can I at least leave her a note?” I asked.

“No,” the housekeeper replied firmly.

“Oh…”

“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?”

“Sí.”

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.

“Buenos días.”

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.

“Hablas inglés?”

“No.”

“Cómo te llamas?” 

“Leon.”

“Eso es francés, no?”

“Si.”

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?”

“Señora, calmate!”

“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

iBooks, Nook, Kobo readers: smarturl.it/exconscaptive

Dark Romance Books | Hitman's Captive | Book #3 BWWM Captive Series

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

CHAPTER ONE

“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.”

“Good.” 

“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.”

“Not me.”

“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.”

“I will.”

“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.” 

“Bye, Dinah.”

“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.”

“I did.”

“You ready?”

“The house survived the winter of ’09 just fine.” 

“Good. Good.”

“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.

“Thanks.”

“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.”

“I will.”

“And stay out of trouble.”

“I will.”

“Sure you don’t want me to drive you to the house?”

“No. I can handle it.”

“Good.”

“Bye, Jerry.”

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

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