BWWM Books: Rock Hard Alpha Male | An Interracial Romance Novel

Rock Hard Alpha Male is a super hot republish of a sweet and steamy interracial romance. This book is a bit slower burn but when it gets hot it gets HOT. Gym buddies turn into true lovers as this story increases in speed throughout the interracial romance story.

What do you think? Comment down below what you think.

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Done With Boring Guys

Chapter One

Kayla’s search for Mr. Right was failing miserably. One third into the way of her date with Frank McIntire she already knew that it was a failure. This guy had so many flaws that she could fill an entire journal. He ate with the wrong fork, his tie had a terribly done knot in it. He didn’t even work in an interesting industry -- he was a financial analyst for some corporation and Kayla couldn’t make heads or tails of anything he said related to his job.

Some date. She’d been set up on his unfortunate affair by using this paid dating app. Kayla couldn’t believe that she’d paid money to get a chance to meet guys like this. Stanford was right about online dating being a waste of time. 

“So Kayla… It must be cool being a therapist.” 

Kayla tried to hide the bored look on her face.

“It’s riveting.”

“So, tell me more about what it’s like having your own private practice and all.”

Kayla knew she should at least try.

“Well I started my private practice when I was twenty-eight. So it’s been steady sailing for the past nine years.”

“Putting you at… thirty-six?”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady about her age?” Kayla replied with a smile.

Frank blushed.

“Sorry, it’s just that you don’t look a day over twenty-seven.”

Kayla couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe Frank did have some redeeming qualities. At least he was trying his hardest to compliment her. After a few more minutes of forced conversation, Kayla excused herself from the table to go to the bathroom. She needed a break from all of this. She couldn’t stop herself from noticing all the things wrong about Frank. 

Her best friend Joanna had warned her that this over-critical tendency of hers would force her to end up single. Kayla disagreed. She was a strong, independent woman of thirty-six who was at the top of her career. She didn’t need to settle for a man just to feel validated. And sure, Frank had money too but he was just missing a special something.

In the bathroom, Kayla adjusted her updo. Her thick, natural 4c hair was braided in a halo around her head. After her big chop six years prior, Kayla had been growing out her long thick hair and trying to love her natural strands just the way they were. She fussed with her hair in the mirror for a while, unsure if she was being a perfectionist or just doing everything in her power to get time away from Frank.

Kayla pulled out her phone and considered texting her best friend Joanna. However, what Joanna would say was almost too predictable for her to even bother. Joanna would urge her to stop being so judgmental and to give this guy a chance. A chance for what?  

Instead, Kayla chose to reapply her lipstick. She wore a deep oxblood shade that looked phenomenal on her dark, mahogany colored skin. The lipstick also highlighted the dark brown — almost black — color of her eyes. Kayla’s round face and apple cheeks glistened in the fluorescent light of the restaurant bathroom.

“I look fine. I look great,” Kayla affirmed herself in the mirror.

She sighed before leaving the bathroom, knowing that she was about to face the rest of her terrible date with Frank The Analyst.

When she returned Frank greeted her with a smile. Kayla couldn’t ignore his crooked bottom teeth that made his otherwise appealing face unattractive in her eyes.

“I went ahead and ordered dessert. Chocolate for my sweet dark chocolate.”

Kayla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Didn’t white guys get tired of always comparing black women to chocolate? Kayla really didn’t think it was too much to ask for more from a man. All she wanted was a nice, rich man who could live up to her standards. Kayla didn’t want a “fixer-upper” in the least. She could tell just from looking at Frank that’s exactly what he would be.

“Well, it just so happens I love chocolate.”

Frank grinned, “So do I.”

Kayla cringed internally. She hoped that Frank didn’t think his corny and borderline offensive lines were actually working on her. Dating in this city was an absolute nightmare. As Kayla got closer and closer to forty, things got even worse. Even men ten years her senior assumed there was something “wrong” with her for not being married. Kayla could barely begin to wrap her mind around the hypocrisy.

“So… Kayla Williams… Tell me more about your family.”

“What do you want to know Frank.”

Frank shrugged, “What’s your ethnicity?”

“Black.” 

“African American?”

“Sure. But my dad’s Jamaican. He died when I was twenty-seven.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He was a good man but… it’s all in the past now.”

Frank reached his hand across the table and rested it on Kayla’s arm.

“You don’t have to have so many walls up,” He said.

Kayla raised her eyebrows in surprise. Who was Frank to tell her how guarded she should be after almost twenty years of dating in a harsh city like this one?

Kayla replied in a snarky tone, “Well thanks for your permission Frank.”

“No problem,” He responded with not a hint of irony.

At this point, Kayla was forcing herself to feel some sort of chemistry with Frank. She tried to empty her mind of the hundreds of criticisms of him that had run through it and see the positives. He had a good job. He came from money — even if it was inherited. He could afford fancy restaurants. He had nice, gray eyes.

As much as she tried to fixate on the positives, Kayla couldn’t let go of the fact that Frank just wasn’t her type. The chemistry between them was forced at best and entirely non-existent at worst. How could her dating site have been so wrong? 

Dessert came and Kayla found herself half-listening to Frank explain the entire recent recession and its impact on small business owners on the East Coast. He didn’t seem to care about whether or not Kayla found the whole thing interesting. And to be sure — she didn’t.

Instead, Kayla was thinking about her patients and how she would spend the next week. She had a twenty-year-old NYU student who was suffering from depression because her forty-year-old boyfriend and professor dumped her to go back to his wife. She had an executive with over sixty people underneath her suffering from alcohol abuse and unmanageable anxiety. Kayla also had an interracial gay couple who needed her help navigating their new marriage. 

There was a lot to keep Kayla’s mind occupied. There always was. It was one of the reasons she’d always found dating so hard. How could a man keep her titillated constantly when her job was such a source of stimulation and energy for her? It was almost an impossible task. 

Frank was still talking. Kayla was almost finished her her chocolate mousse. As Frank had promised, it was divine. She supposed that his taste in food was another positive trait of his.

“Kayla, is all of this going over your head?” Frank finally stopped to check in with her.

Kayla shrugged, “It’s all very fascinating Frank. Can’t say I’ve heard such an in depth take before.”

“I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

Kayla just shook her head. She knew it was rude to tell a man that he was boring on a date. 

Frank answered, “Alright then. Well Kayla, I’m curious about your experience with painting. It’s certainly a common hobby in a city like this.”

“Well, I picked up oil painting in college and I’ve been painting ever since really. Before my dad died we went to Jamaica together and I spent a lot of time painting the mountains, the beach and the waterfalls near our place.”

“Wow. Jamaica must be incredible. So there’s a different language there, isn’t there?”

Kayla knew Frank’s ignorance wasn’t his own fault.

“Patwa,” Kayla said.

Frank nodded, even if it was clear he still had no idea what that meant.

“And what about reggae? Is anyone in your family a singer?”

Kayla chuckled — she was more laughing at Frank than with him.

“Does anyone in your family sing Country music?”

“Huh?”

Kayla continued, “Well, that’s pretty much what you’re asking me. Jamaica might be a small country but there’s more to it than reggae music.”

“Right.” 

“Anyways, my father was Jamaican, not my mother. I grew up here. I only feel Jamaican sometimes…”

Kayla’s disconnect with one of her homelands was a sore subject for her. With her father’s passing, she felt like her chances of getting to know Jamaica were even slimmer. Of course, Frank would more than kill his chances with her by bringing up the painful subject of her estranged homeland.

“How did you know you wanted to be a therapist?” Frank asked again.

Kayla answered, “They say that it’s always the most screwed up people who take an interest in psychology. What do you think of that?”

“I think there’s no way in hell you’re as screwy as some of the people in this city.”

Kayla laughed.

“Good answer.”

Again, she was hot and cold with Frank. The chemistry was nonexistent but he had his moments too.

With dessert finished, the waitress brought the bill.

“Half-half?” Kayla asked.

“No,” Frank said insistently, “I know these are modern times but a man must still have some sense of chivalry.”

“Thanks for dinner.” 

Frank slipped his card into the leather book and Kayla waited impatiently for the date to be over.

“Any chance we could cap it off with a drink at your place?”

Now came the uncomfortable part. Kayla knew this time she was doing a terrible job at hiding her grimace.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Frank. I’ve got patients first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Right. Sorry. Well maybe I could see you again.”

Kayla smiled, knowing that she would be screening Frank’s calls like it was her day job.

“Of course Frank. Call me at the office tomorrow because I need to see how my schedule will work out this week.”

“God, it’s so sexy to meet a woman who can fend for themselves.”

“Are most women you meet helpless?”

“Shockingly.”

“Hm.”

“What, did something I say bother you?”

Kayla didn’t know where to begin.

“I guess it’s a big assumption that most women you meet are helpless. Kind of judgmental, don’t you think?”

Frank shrugged, “Not really. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that a woman have an established career and apartment once she’s in her thirties.”

“I see.”

“Hey listen Kayla, let me walk you to your car.”

“I took a cab.”

“I’ll hail one for you then.”

Frank insisted upon linking his arm in Kayla’s as he walked her to the street. The meal had been delicious but the date had been lukewarm. Frank’s judgmental little comment hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

He hailed a cab and then turned Kayla’s body towards his. Frank’s grey eyes stared into hers. Kayla was too intimidated to make eye contact.

“I know you’re playing hard to get but damn it Kayla, you’re irresistible,” Frank muttered.

He pulled Kayla close and shocked her with a deep, wet kiss on the lips. Kayla pulled away and Frank dragged her close, kissing her again. Kayla let him kiss her and she let his hands wander over her wide hips and grope her ass. 

When Frank pulled away from her finally, he was grinning like an idiot.

“I’ll see you again soon.”

Kayla got into her cab and breathed a sigh of relief. At least her date was finally over. She couldn’t believe that Joanna had convinced her this website would be worth it when it absolutely wasn’t! All she’d done was waste her time with yet another judgmental New York City freak with nothing to offer her besides free food and boring conversation about their menial jobs.

Kayla called Joanna, begging her to come over to her place and have a margarita. She needed to discuss everything that had gone down with Frank. 

By the time Kayla got to her apartment, Joanna was already hovering around outside. Kayla and Joanna looked similar enough to be sisters. They were both short and incredibly thick with wide bulging hips and large bums and breasts. Kayla had natural hair but Joanna wore her hair in long Senegalese twists or thick braids like the dancehall artist Patra. While Kayla was half Jamaican, Joanna’s parents were both immigrants straight from Portmore and Joanna had inherited all of their island flare. 

“Girl! I want to get a drink and find out more about your worst date ever!” Joanna said loudly. 

Everything Joanna said was loud; her personality contrasted Kayla’s more soft spoken demeanor. Kayla rode the elevator up to the 50th floor with Joanna and unlocked the front door to her apartment. Inside, Kayla’s apartment was anally neat. She believed that everything had a place and living alone, she was able to maintain her high standards.

“It always smells so sterile in here…” Joanna commented.

“The moscato’s in the fridge, I’ve gotta change out of this dress!” Kayla called to her best friend.

“I thought you said margaritas!” Joanna yelled.

Kayla didn’t say anything back. She knew that the promise of tequila was the one thing that could get Joanna out of bed after 8 p.m.

Kayla went into her bedroom and undressed before the mirror. Nope, there was no way in hell Frank could handle all of this as well as he thought he could. He was fishing way out of his league and Kayla wasn’t foolish enough to settle for him.

Kayla slipped into a pair of black leggings that hugged her figure tightly and a loose athletic tank top. Kayla appreciated the shift in outfit; she hated nothing more than wearing an uncomfortable sexy dress on a date with a guy she didn’t even like.

Joanna had poured the moscato and Kayla joined her on the couch.

“So… What was wrong with Frank? He looked fine as hell in his profile pictures!” 

Kayla sighed and downed half her glass of moscato, “He looked fine but looks aren’t everything. Plus, two of his bottom teeth were crooked.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me Kayla.”

“I’m not!” Kayla exclaimed, “And he used his dessert fork to eat dinner.”

“Girl, you trippin’,” Joanna laughed.

Kayla replied, “I’m not. I don’t see why people always think black women have to settle.”

Joanna rolled her eyes, “Here we go again. Who said anything about black women?” 

“I’m just making a point Joanna. People always want me to settle.”

“It’s not about settling Kayla. It’s about accepting people for who they are and not being so critical!”

“Critical? Who’s critical?” Kayla interjected, “Frank’s the guy at the end of the date who said I was sexy because other women were so helpless!”

“You’re a hypocrite Kayla.”

“No, I’m not. He’s an asshole.”

Joanna poured herself a second glass of moscato.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kayla.” 

Kayla clicked her teeth, “Listen Joanna… You don’t have a man either so stop criticizing me!”

“I’m also six years younger than you. And Pierre counts, even if he’s in France.”

Kayla shot her friend a glare. She didn’t appreciate reminders that she was approaching forty and even if she’d done so much with her life, her family wouldn’t leave her alone. They always introduced her as “single Aunty Kayla” or “unmarried Aunty Kayla” at every family event. When Kayla’s brother had married a financial manager named Milan, that officially left Kayla as the only one of her siblings who was unmarried. 

It wasn’t a position that she relished. 

“Listen, I want to get married but it has to be to the right guy. There’s no point in trying to make things work when I know that isn’t going to end badly!”

“But you won’t give any guy a chance!”

Kayla sighed, “Frank was boring Joanna. How many more lukewarm dates can a girl sit through?”

“Well, what did you do to make the date less boring?”

Kayla scoffed. 

“Like that’s my job. I’m attractive, own my own business and I have a huge apartment all to myself. It’s a guy’s job to see how he can impress me.”

Joanna rolled her eyes again, “I don’t know what on earth I’m going to do with you. Anyways, I’m still sort of dating Pierre. Our relationship is long distance.” 

“Another French man?” 

It was Joanna’s turn to shoot Kayla a glare this time.

“Don’t you judge him already!”

“The last guy you dated from outside of the country abandoned your ass in the Turks & Caicos.” 

“It was a misunderstanding,” Joanna said sheepishly.

Kayla chuckled, “If that’s what you want to call it. You’re the most optimistic person that I know.” 

“When it comes to love, the only thing that pays off is optimism.”

“No way. The only thing that pays off is sticking to your values.”

“You have too many values.”

Kayla shook her head, “Hell no I don’t. I just know what I’m worth and I don’t want to waste my time.”

“You know what Kayla, I have a challenge for you.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to ask a guy out for a change. Since all the guys who approach you can’t seem to meet your lofty standards, maybe you should go up to the ones who do.”

“Come on Joanna! I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“It’s the modern age girl. You need to get out of that old mindset. If you want something, what’s so wrong with going after it?”

“Fine. I’ll take you up on that. I’ll ask a guy out. I’ll prove to you that it’s the men in this city keeping me single, not me.”

Armed with motivation from Joanna, Kayla determined to find a man suitable enough to ask out. Maybe Joanna did have a point: she needed to pursue a man that she saw worthy instead of sifting through the deluge of unsuitable men that insisted on wasting her time. 

Kayla didn’t know where smart, professional women over thirty-five went to meet men. She didn’t want to visit the same places that were overcrowded with younger women who didn’t share her same career status and romantic goals. Kayla was looking for more than a “bit of fun”; she’d stopped looking for “fun” years ago and she craved something far more.

After closing down her office for the day, Kayla had given up on ever mustering up the courage to go to a bar to pick up men. She knew that she just didn’t have it in her. Bars were uncomfortable places with too much drinking and too many men who felt entitled to every woman in the place.

Kayla knew that it was unlikely she would meet someone at her next destination but she needed to clear her head anyways. Kayla had a stash of gym clothing in her office so she changed before heading out. Her curves were hugged by her black spandex pants. Her breasts fit tightly into her neon peach sports bra and loose black tank. Kayla added a headband to keep her hair out of her face. By the end of the work day, her strands were already craving moisture. 

Kayla drove to the gym. For over ten years of membership, Kayla was a platinum VIP at her gym and she had an amazing reserved parking spot in the gym’s garage. Kayla felt self-conscious entering the gym. For the first time ever, she was paying attention to the people around her. There were all shapes and sizes of members: skinny Zumba lovers, chubby yoga enthusiasts, beefy weightlifters and all other body types. This time, Kayla also noticed the sheer number of attractive men. 

Usually, Kayla was so focused at the gym that she barely noticed men. Now, the gym practically looked like a buffet. Kayla felt embarrassed for even noticing the men there. 

Kayla had a challenging post-workday exercise routine that was always guaranteed to keep her heart rate up. She started off by doing a tough uphill thirty minute jog on the treadmill. Kayla huffed and puffed throughout the first ten minutes, wondering if she even had the gusto to continue. Besides her recent frustrations with dating, Kayla had a lot of other things on her mind. She was always looking to grow and expand her private practice. Kayla had all the success in the world depending on your perspective. But Kayla had always wanted more. Her incredible drive for everything she wanted was propelling her to find some way to take things to the next level.

As she toyed with idea after idea on how to grow her therapy practice, Kayla came upon the end of her thirty minutes. Sweat ran rivulets down her back and chest. Kayla could feel her headband hanging heavy with sweat on her head. She wasn’t through with her workout yet.

Kayla made her way to the gym mats to prepare for the core strength segment of her workout. Kayla knew she’d neglected core strength after giving up on her tummy ever being flat. Today, her mindset was different; the endorphins from the run had given her the boost she needed. Core strength wasn’t about achieving some media ideal or a specific look. It was just about strength and confidence in her abilities. 

Kayla took a deep breath as she started off on her first minute of planking. She felt her abs tighten and again, she was drawn into the zone. Kayla was soon drawn into her workout again. By the time she was finished with her core workout, she couldn’t find the energy to do another plank.

For the final part of her circuit, Kayla usually did a hard and fast thirty minutes on a stationary bike. At this point in her workout, she’d lost the energy to do much else. With the back support provided by an exercise bike, all of a sudden she felt like she could push out those final thirty minutes with ease. 

Kayla hoisted herself onto the stationary bike, her eyes glazed over with raw determination and she began to push herself as hard as she could go to the end of the workout. She could see the sun setting outside. The city was bustling beneath her, imbuing Kayla with the energy she needed to finish strong. Now, she was too tired to indulge her stress about work, dating or anything else. 

Stress was out of the question.

When Kayla finished, she could have collapsed. That was one of the things she liked about her routine. The exhaustion was different from the kind she felt after an arduous day at work. Kayla was running on a pure exercise high.

“You’re really pushing it today, aren’t you?”

Kayla turned around in surprise, expecting the man standing behind her to be some twenty-something guy who was way out of his depth with her.

“Excuse me?”

The man standing behind her was easily over 6’4” and he was far from being a loserish twenty something. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I just notice you coming here all the time. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Kayla replied; she couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m Grant by the way, Grant Middleton.”

“Kayla, Kayla Williams,” She answered, sticking out her hand to shake his. Grant’s handshake was strong and secure. Kayla could already tell he was a confident man; just her luck, he was far from being in his twenties too.

“I’ve never seen you around here, how long have you been going to the gym?” Kayla asked.

It was out of character for her to make conversation with a man in public, especially at the gym but Grant was far more attractive than most and he’s already passed Kayla’s first test of worthiness. 

Grant grinned, “About five years.”

Kayla shook her head, “No way. I’ve been a member for ten years and I’ve never noticed you around!”

“I’ve noticed you.” 

As Grant said that, he held Kayla’s eye contact. Kayla was already shocked by how bold he was but Grant looking directly into her eyes was almost enough to make her melt. He was devastatingly tall and handsome to boot. He had an incredible angular face with sharp cheekbones and a stunning smile with deep smile lines running through his face. Already, Kayla could tell he was the type of guy who spent a lot of time in the throes of deep laughter.

Grant had piercing icy blue eyes and chestnut colored hair that was slicked back. Kayla had never seen anyone with such incredibly blue eyes before. Kayla had never found herself so instantly stunned by a man’s physical appearance before. Grant’s muscled bulged through his black tank top and his black shorts hugged his strong thighs perfectly. Kayla found her eyes wandering down to his crotch as she unconsciously checked out his package. 

Grant continued, “You know I recognize you from around town… Do you have that private practice midtown?” 

Kayla smiled and nodded. It was rare that someone actually recognized her from work.

“Yes, that’s where my office is. I do a mix of psychotherapy and behavioral counseling.” 

“Wow, that’s incredible. I’m in real estate actually so I walk past your place all the time.”

“Real estate? With which agency?” Kayla asked; she had many friends in the real estate game and she was hoping she could figure out some way she was connected to Grant. 

Grant blushed and looked down sheepishly instead. 

“I’m not with an agency,” He replied shyly.

Kayla couldn’t figure out what he was being so coy about. She knew being pushy could have been a turn off but she was desperately curious to find out what Grant did for a living.

“Then how are you involved with real estate?”

Grant said, “Well I own a couple brownstones near your office.”

Kayla tried to hold back her surprise. Owning a couple places in New York City would have made Grant more than wealthy.

“Wow. Well, maybe you should stop by my office sometime and say hi.” 

“Maybe I should…” 

Kayla knew that she was going to miss her chance if she didn’t act quickly and seize her chance to ask Grant out. She was getting the perfect opportunity to act on the deal she’d made with Joanna earlier. Grant was an incredible candidate to date so far. Within a few seconds, Kayla had ascertained more about his personality than he’d even realized.

Grant was tall, attractive, athletic and he had an amazing source of income. Kayla couldn’t believe her luck that she’d met him. She wasn’t fully convinced that he didn’t have some skeletons in his closet but at least she could ask him out and get the pressure of doing so out of the way.

“So Grant, why don’t you forget stopping by and we’ll go out sometime. I’d love to hear more about… real estate,” Kayla said, flashing him a smile.

Grant smiled back; Kayla could have swooned at how beautiful his eyes looked when he smiled at her. 

“Sure thing.”

“I’ll put my number in your phone if you don’t mind,” She grinned. 

Grant pulled out the latest Samsung smartphone and again, Kayla tried not to be too visibly impressed. She typed in her number 212-555-0205. She saved her number under the name “Gym Cutie”. Kayla hoped that the flirty and playful move would land her a date with the gym hottie.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can. See you around Kayla.”

“Absolutely,” Kayla replied.

She watched as Grant walked towards the lockers. His ass was so tight you could bounce a quarter off of it. Kayla tried to hold herself together. She was long done with her workout but she was hot and bothered as if she’d done the entire circuit again twice. Kayla herself made her way to the locker room of the gym which wasn’t terribly crowded that day.

Kayla stripped down to nothing and got into one of the available shower stalls. At a gym this nice, showing was more of an experience than not. She let the water pour down her back and she got her thick hair nice and wet. Kayla pumped her sulfate-free conditioner into her strands, massaging it in to ensure her coils were nice and moisturized. Natural hair and the gym sometimes seemed incompatible but Kayla loved the evening routine of self love.

Kayla lathered up and then rinsed her body off, finger detangling her hair once she was done. After a nice long shower, she emerged with a sense of accomplishment about her. She’d skipped Joanna’s pleas to take herself to a bar or another dating hotspot and instead she’d met one of the most attractive guys she’d ever seen right here at her gym. He was a man who had been going to this gym for years too, just like she had. It was just her luck that he would pop up the exact moment she was supposed to ask someone out. 

She couldn’t wait to tell Joanna about this. Kayla got dressed in a relaxed pair of yoga pants and a grad school t-shirt and then drove home. The drive home was stressful — as it usually was — but it gave her time to think and clear her head. 

Kayla had a love-hate relationship with the waiting game that was a big part of dating. She couldn’t be sure when Grant would call her but she was desperately hoping it would be prior to the upcoming weekend. A booked Friday night at least guaranteed her weekend entertainment besides hanging out with her girlfriends — not like there was anything wrong with a good girls’ night.

Not to mention Kayla was almost 100% sure that a date with Grant would surpass anything that she could have possibly had with Frank. Kayla was just glad he hadn’t called her back.

Once at home, Kayla cooked herself a delicious but simply dinner. At the end of the day she was too tired to do anything more complicated, even if her mother often commented on how her “healthy food would never land her a decent man.”

Kayla rolled her eyes as she thought about what her mom would say about her mushroom sauté and Cobb salad. Her mother always wondered if Kayla was going on a diet. The sly dig at Kayla’s weight didn’t go unnoticed. But Kayla had just always been a little chubby — regardless of what she ate. In her adulthood, she’d managed to shake off the negative comments from her friends and family and just live life for herself. When she wanted soda, she drank soda. When she wanted a mushroom sauté, that’s what she ate. Life was much happier and freer that way.

As Kayla sat down to eat, a ringing cellphone threatened her freedom. At first, she’d hoped it was Grant. It was the furthest person in her life from Grant.

“Hi Stanford,” Kayla mumbled.

Stanford was Kayla’s “safe bet”. They’d dated occasionally over the past few years but things had never gone anywhere. Stanford was good on paper, but Kayla just couldn’t see herself having a long term relationship with him. Nevertheless, he was content to float in and out of Kayla’s life without bothering her much or expecting much out of her. Sometimes Stanford would joke that they would get married when she finally gave up on the bastards of New York. Kayla disagreed ardently. 

“How’s your night gorgeous.”

“Fine. I’m just sitting down to dinner. Are you okay?”

Stanford sighed and then replied, “I’m fine. I just miss you.”

Kayla rolled her eyes; she felt lucky that Stanford couldn’t actually see her doing that. She was flattered by some of Stanford’s attention but his sweetness had the potential to be sickening too.

“Well, I don’t know if I’m free this week.”

“New guy in your life?”

Kayla hesitated to answer him. She knew that Stanford was always sniffing around for a boyfriend to edge out of Kayla’s life. As far as he was concerned, he was the only man good enough for her. Kayla knew that she found plenty of flaws in the guys she dated but Stanford went into overdrive whenever he sniffed out Kayla had a new man in her life.

“No new guy.”

“I can always tell when you’re lying Kayla.”

“I’m not lying okay! I might have met someone but we don’t even have a date yet. I’m just… busy this weekend.”

“Well I’ll have to take your word for it that you aren’t lying.”

“When have I ever lied to you Stanford?” Kayla said impishly.

Stanford grumbled, “Never. I just really want to be with you Kayla. You’re so damned elusive and hard to get.”

“Makes you want me more, doesn’t it?” Kayla said.

“Goodnight Dr. Williams.”

“Goodnight Stan.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times Kayla, it’s Stanford, not Stan.”

“Sleep tight, Stanford.” 

Kayla hung up before Stanford could find another way to hook her into another conversation or worse, tell her that he loved her. That was his new favorite way to sink his claws into Kayla.

She finished up her meal and settled into bed with a new novel which carried her off to sleep.

The next day on her way to work, Kayla was fixated on the clients she’d be taking that day. As usual, her Wednesday’s were packed to capacity. Kayla usually loved a busy schedule but her muscles were sore from her workout the day prior.

As Kayla waited in traffic, her phone rang. She pressed answer on her car’s bluetooth setup.

“Hello?”

“Is now a bad time?” 

Kayla recognized the voice instantly.

“No, I’m just stuck in traffic. You’re on speaker phone.”

“No kids in the car?”

Grant was just as funny as Kayla had hoped. She chuckled in response to his not-so-subtle attempt to figure out whether or not she had children.

“No kids, Grant. What’s up?”

“Dinner, Friday night?”

“I’m totally free! I’m surprised you called back so soon.”

Grant laughed.

“How could I resist calling up the ‘gym cutie’ and seeing what she had in store for me.”

“Very funny.”

“Well I’d love to pick you up from your apartment. Can I come by around eight?”

“Sure, I can message you my address.”

“Perfect. I can’t wait to see you Kayla.”

“Bye!” 

The way Grant had said “I can’t wait to see you Kayla” played over and over again in her head. She’d only had two short conversations with the man but Kayla already felt smitten. He had a sonorous deep voice that hypnotized Kayla every time she heard it. Grant fit all her up front requirements and everything he said forced her to smile from ear to ear. Kayla had never felt such positivity towards anyone in a long, long time. 

Kayla had already determined that a first date with Grant would be one of the best nights for her life. Sitting through traffic seemed to go much faster with Grant on her mind. By the time Kayla arrived at her office, she had a smile on her face. She was having a better day than any she’d had in months. The back to back client meetings were starting to feel less like a burden and more like the beginning of a count down to an amazing first date. She couldn’t wait to tell Joanna all about Grant Middleton.

* * *

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.

---

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. 

* * *

This book will be available soon! Join my mailing list to sign up for updates: bit.ly/jamilajasper

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. 

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