⚠ONLY READ IF YOU LOVE FILTHY, REAL INTERRACIAL ROMANCE⚠
The man who has it all:
★A big, long, throbbing, thick, back-breaking, rock hard… ego.
★All the money in the bank to treat his black queen like royalty
★KIDS that he takes care of without being asked. ZADDY loves kids and he protects all of them with his strength.
★He LOVES single mamas and worships at the altar between their thighs
We may call a man "daddy" but "ZADDY" is something different…
This steamy hot interracial romance novella drips with filthy hot scenes that will make you sweat your weave out as you fantasize about the ZADDY you desperately crave to fill all the holes in your life. With 35,000+ words of spicy action, you'll love this kinky BWWM novel. Don't believe me? Take a peek inside and see what this novel has to offer…
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Romance Novel Excerpts | Zaddy: BWWM Pregnancy Romance
A successful cooking blog, two children and an escape to a home in Miami, had all been conjured up out of a big fat pile of B.S. Eliza considered the fame a blessing or at least a respite from every damned thing she’d put up with over the past decade. Life had been hard. Two kids, who she’d never regretted, had been harder and at thirty-five, she loved her daughters, her home, and life in the bustling, diverse Florida city. Eliza watched her daughters playing together on the newly carpeted floor of the living room, taking great care to avoid spilling their crayons onto the fresh, white carpet.
Karen and Sylvie wore their hair in matching afro puffs that spiraled towards the sky from their tiny brown foreheads. Sylvie was always more animated when they played, her large, dark brown eyes gleaming with mischief and excitement as her sister went along reluctantly with their new game.
Eliza looked at her watch before leaving the house. The solid rose gold watch had been her first big purchase when her blog had first sky-rocketed to success and reminded her of how hard she’d worked to build this life for her daughters — too hard. It should have been easier and she shouldn’t have done it alone but a hardworking woman knows how to get shit done — and she does it. Always.
5:00 p.m. After a long day of answering emails, talking on the phone and editing a lengthy recipe for bouillabaisse on her blog, Eliza had the responsibility of getting food for her girls. The irony was that running her cooking blog left little time for simple cooking for her daughters, especially on busy days like this one.
“Karen! Watch Sylvie for a minute. I’m headed ‘round the block to get some jerk chicken.”
“Yes mama!” Karen called back.
“And don’t forget Grams is just across the way.”
Eliza wouldn’t have left the girls alone if she didn’t share a duplex with her parents. It was just enough space that she could have privacy without worrying too much about her girls being alone up in that house.
She left the house and bustled towards Jemma’s Jerk. The streets were noisy, the Miami heat beat down on the tops of her thighs, causing sweat to pool between Eliza’s legs and her hair to stick to her neck before she got halfway down the block. She fingered the bills in her pocket, reviewing her order and pondering deeply whether or not she wanted one type of jerk sauce or another.
Food was Eliza’s life — her whole life — and even a decision as simple as what to order could zip her away to another world. A world where she wasn’t hiding out in Miami, on the run from her past and struggling to be the type of mother that she’d never planned on being: alone.
Eliza hated that her kids needed a daddy — and she hated even more that she couldn’t have a man around to take away the daily pressure of raising a family and running a business and working her ass off. There wasn’t any man who could live up to Eliza’s standards anyway. At least not in Miami. But she could still hope for the day when some magical stranger would just… whisk her off her feet.
There didn’t seem like there was much of a chance of that happening, but Eliza never lost hope.
Eliza arrived at the place two blocks away from her house faster than ever. Even if she’d been away from Trey for three years, she still couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder anxiously when she left the house alone. There was no way he’d trace her to Miami. She’d started using her middle name “Eliza” after the divorce and she’d started using her mama’s maiden name, Rice.
The line for jerk was long. Eliza silently cussed herself for not knowing better than to show up so late. The place was steaming hot; there was no air-conditioning to give the customers respite from the Miami sun. Eliza wrinkled her nose at the smell of the other customers’ sweat. She knew she must not have smelled too hot herself and she folded her arms, self-consciously swaying as the unabashed stinkers debated about their upcoming orders. There were still five more people in line before her.
Eliza folded her arms and popped in her headphones, listening to some D’Angelo while she waited in line. This place had the best jerk chicken in all of Miami but damn were they slow.
As Eliza waited, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the store window.
I look tired. She thought to herself.
She’d looked tired for years now. Eliza remembered when she’d first moved away from Miami. She was seventeen and she’d run away with her boyfriend Trey Lane. Trey had convinced her that her family was no-good and he was the only person in the world that could love her.
They’d lived in Mississippi for a year until Eliza had turned eighteen. She hadn’t even graduated high school; Trey convinced her that she wouldn’t need to ‘cause he would take care of her. Looking back, Eliza realized how much of a fool she’d been to believe him. When Eliza turned eighteen, they got married and she’d gone from Anna-Mae Eliza Jackson to Anna-Mae Lane.
After they got married — a quiet, private service in Trey’s living room — life started to get worse for Eliza. Trey had lied about everything. He was over $120,000 in debt; he had no way of taking care of Eliza and he hadn’t quit his lifestyle of drinking and crime. Everything he’d sold Eliza on was a lie.
In quiet desperation, at 20, she’d had her first child, Karen.
Having a baby had only made things better for a little while. Trey had stopped having violent outbursts and he’d stopped drinking for a spell. He promised Eliza that things would get better, that he’d start making more money and really start to provide for them.
That “change” hadn’t lasted long and Eliza had started to fantasize about escape. That wasn’t so easy. She had no high school diploma. Trey refused to allow her to get a GED or a job, she was estranged from her family and too ashamed to tell them that she’d been a fool. Plus, she knew her mama would flip if she found out that she had a baby.
So Eliza stayed, even if she knew Trey could kill her without a second thought. He’d certainly threatened it enough and Eliza could still smell the whiskey on his breath as she remembered him threatening to cut her body up and throw her into the swamp. Trey’s drinking kept her hooked. He’d convinced her that he couldn’t survive if she left. He’d convinced her that he’d find her and kill her if she left. He convinced her that if she weren't such a gold-digging whore, he’d be able to find the motivation to get a better job.
So Eliza stayed.
At twenty-eight, Eliza felt like a shell of her former self. With an eight-year-old daughter around, Eliza feared that she was ruining her daughter’s life. Trey never hit Karen, and by God, he never touched her, but he had no problem slapping Eliza up in front of her. Eliza wanted to escape. She’d started to make plans and had everything all set up to run in the middle of the night.
Then Trey found out. He held her down on their marriage bed, threatened her life, and as she screamed, that’s how he’d given her Sylvie.
Luck had set Eliza free in a morbid kind of way. Trey had been out late drinking one night and he’d gotten into a car accident. When Eliza got the call from the hospital, her hands shook and she had promised him that she would be there soon. She took her one year old child and her nine-year-old and all the cash she had to rent a car.
That was how Miami started.
She had never looked back, never checked on Trey, and she’d left a life behind with no clue how the hell she was going to keep going forward. Eliza had to keep going because that’s what strong women do… With the protection from her mama and papa, she’d filed for divorce. Eliza’s Southern cooking blog had started to really take off right after she’d arrived in Miami. After a long, traumatic legal battle, Anna-Mae became Eliza. Mrs. Lane became Ms. Rice. She was free.
Recovery had been a long hard road and Eliza hadn’t dated anyone else seriously since Trey. It wasn’t just out of fear, but because of her daughters. Eliza’s ultimate motivation in life was to keep her daughters safe from their ain’t shit daddy forever. Karen had already suffered enough watching her mama get beat up by Trey. Eliza knew what she had to do. She had to stop.
When her blog started to make bigger and bigger bucks, Eliza had found a way to hustle her way into a duplex. Her mama and papa shared one half; she lived in the other with the two girls. Eliza had bought herself a nice 2013 Ford Focus and she was working her ass off to save more and more cash for a rainy day. With Trey out there still, a rainy day could come any time, a fact that Eliza was painfully aware of.
The line grew shorter ahead of her, but the Jamaicans were always slow with the service and all the huffing and puffing you could do wouldn’t make a damned difference when it came to dealing with them. Eliza tapped her fingers on her thighs, still stuck in the past.
Physically Eliza had changed a lot since she was that skinny 17-year-old that Trey had snatched from her home. She’d gained about fifty pounds so her body had a little shape to it. Having two kids had definitely affected Eliza’s figure. Even if she ate right and exercised, she had plenty of stretch marks all over her tummy and legs.
By some stroke of luck, her large breasts still sat up perky in her top and her face still had the youthful look of a woman in her early twenties, despite the fact that her thirty-fifth birthday had only just passed.
As a regular at Jemma’s Jerk, Eliza just hoped she’d be able to get out of that place soon. Beads of sweat were starting to build up on her forehead and Eliza worried she’d sweat her wig clean off.
The girl at the cashier yelled, “Next customer!”
Eliza peered around the line. Her favorite cashier Kelly was working. That would definitely mean her food would come faster. The Jamaican girls working at Jemma’s Jerk weren’t afraid to play favorites.
“Ay pendejo!” Two of the people in line in front of Eliza started arguing and mumbling to each other in Spanish.
Eliza sighed and smiled. Sometimes, she just had to appreciate the slow pace of this part of Miami. The city was incredible diverse and everywhere she went she met Cubans, islanders and other immigrants. The city bubbled and broiled with heat, energy, and spices.
The door to the jerk joint bust open with a bang. All the customers jerked their necks around, unafraid to let the aggressive entrant know they were watching him closely.
The man who entered was tall, white and buff. He wore a black tank top and denim shorts. His arm was covered in a black ink tribal tattoo that wrapped around his bulging biceps.
“KELLY! YO KELLY!” He yelled running to the front of the line, practically pushing the customers out of the way.
Kelly kissed her teeth, “Wha’ di rass Brett? Get di hell outta ‘ere!”
“Naw. I ain’t leavin’ till you give me a straight answer.”
Kelly started yelling, “Lemme come ‘round this counter, an’ I’ll buss yuh ass.”
“You’re full of shit Kelly. You don’t know a damned thing about what happened and I swear to god if you mess with me again—”
“Get di FOCK outta mi restaurant!” Kelly yelled.
“Fuck you Kelly! Just fuck you!”
“Mama! Jemma!” Kelly screamed.
An old dark-skinned Jamaican woman erupted from the back of the jerk joint.
“Get di fock outta mi restaurant Brett!” Jemma screamed.
“Fuck you both. I ain’t leavin’ till you tell me why Destiny called the fucking cops on me!”
Jemma glared, “Watch yuhself white boy.”
Kelly folded her arms and smirked, “Yuh ‘eard ‘er. Get di hell outta ‘ere!”
Brett looked from left to right and noticed that all eyes in the restaurant were glued to him. His face was bright red and he slammed his hands on the counter staring Kelly right in the face. Kelly kept smirking and she hardly flinched.
“Fockin’ waste man,” She spat.
“Watch yourself Kelly. If you fuck with me ever again I’ll show you how much of a fucking deadbeat I can really be.”
The man turned around and left the restaurant. As he did the tension melted away. Eliza slunk back into her position in line. Phew. That was crazy. The Miami heat could sometimes bring out the worst in people. She rolled her eyes and exchanged glances with a couple other customers. What a psycho.
Finally, Eliza arrived at the front of the line. Kelly smiled. When she wasn’t angry her hard Jamaican accent softened up quite a bit.
“Hello dearie Eliza. How are you and the children?”
Eliza smiled, “They’re good. Picking up two jerk pork and one jerk chicken.”
“Only on one of the jerk porks.”
“I got you girl. That will be $15.”
Eliza fished into her wallet for fifteen dollars and glanced behind her. The restaurant had emptied faster than she realized.
“What was going on with that guy?” Eliza asked as she rest her money on the counter.
Kelly kissed her teeth again, “Brett? He just come ‘round here lookin’ for trouble with me and mine. Waste man…”
“I was worried shit was ‘bout to pop off.”
Kelly loved drama, and Eliza knew it. But that guy had more darkness than the usual bad boys that Kelly was always embroiled in altercations with.
Kelly rolled her eyes, “He’s all talk. Just mad ‘cause he can’t handle business.”
Eliza smiled, “An ex?”
Kelly rolled her eyes and kissed her teeth again, “Oh hell no! Not an ex. Just trouble.”
After a few minutes, she brought out the jerk pork orders and the chicken. Kelly bagged up all the takeout containers.
“Can I get a Ting? The girls would love to split it.”
“Sure thing,” Kelly answered, reaching into the fridge for an ice cold Ting.
Eliza reached into her pocket for four quarters and put them on the table.
“You tell the girls I say hi. Next week mama’s bringin’ some special patty and coco bread.”
“I’ll be sure to stop by. Thanks Kelly!”
Armed with dinner, Eliza burst out of the hot restaurant into the slightly-cooler Miami air.
She saw the man who had raised the scene inside of Jemma’s Jerk standing on the corner. Without the raging, Eliza noticed that he actually looked pretty attracted. He reached into his pocket for a box of cigarettes and Eliza tried to avert her gaze quickly. She didn’t want any “incident” before arriving home.
Eliza didn’t go unnoticed despite her best efforts to keep her head down and away from this mad man.
“Ma’am! Excuse me, ma’am!”
She tried to keep her head down but Brett ran behind her and gently tapped her arm.
“Sorry, didn’t hear you,” Eliza mumbled as she turned around to face him.
She continued, “Listen, I don’t have any money.”
Brett grinned, “Name’s Brett. Not hustlin’ you for money ma’am. Just lookin’ for a light.”
As Eliza fished around in her pocket for a lighter, Brett kept talking.
“So what’s your name ma’am?”
Eliza shot him a sideways glance.
“Sorry ‘bout all that commotion… That’s not the man I really am.”
Eliza didn’t want trouble and she got the distinct sense that disagreeing with this man would bring trouble.
“What’s your name, pretty lady,” he said, a broad smile plastered across his sun-tanned face.
“Eliza… Wow… Eliza… That’s a beautiful name.”
Brett flicked the lighter once, twice and then finally got his cigarette lit. Eliza tried her best not to enjoy the fumes wafting in her direction. She’d quit smoking the day she left Trey and she’d never looked back. The lighter in her pocket was an old habit that she’d never managed to quit.
“Live around here?”
“Why should I tell you where I live?”
Brett chuckled, “Sorry ma’am. It’s just… you’re awful pretty and I wanted to walk you home.”
“It’s only a couple of blocks.”
“So you won’t stay and talk to me here then?”
Eliza rolled her eyes.
“Maybe for a minute…”
Brett’s face lit up. Eliza saw his bright smile and wondered if maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Brett was tall and he had a body built with the brute strength of a farmer. His biceps bulged out of his tank and his denim shorts were worn from the work of an outdoorsman.
Brett had a classic Southern look. He had longish dark brown hair with streaks bleached from so much time in the sun. His face was soft and kind, with a few light wrinkles around the corners of his eyes and the area of his mouth that cracked into a smile.
“So what was Kelly so mad at you for?” Eliza asked.
Brett shrugged, “Ain’t nothing important. Just got mighty heated over an argument we had over some mutual friend.”
“Must have been a pretty big argument for you to cuss up a jerk chicken joint.”
“Hell, I know I got a temper on me. It’s the Irish blood. Sorry you had to see it. I promise, that’s not the man I am.”
“Yeah,” Eliza replied nonchalantly, “I knew a man who would say the same thing.”
She tried to rid herself of the sad look in her eye. There was no need to drudge up all the messiness of her divorce with a total stranger who was obviously trying to flirt with her.
“So what do you do for a living Eliza?”
Eliza answered, “I’m a chef. Cooking blogger now, really. My parents are Jamaican but I was born and raised in the South so I do a blend of Southern and Jamaican cooking.”
“Well I oughta have you cook for me,” Brett teased.
Eliza continued trying to feign interest, “What about you? What do you do for a living?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Brett whispered.
Eliza rolled her eyes. Okay, this guy had to be full of it.
“Sure you’re ready for this?”
“Yup, I’m sure.”
“I’m a millionaire. So now I just invest in a few projects here or there, keep my portfolio stable.”
Eliza folded her arms, “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
Brett let out a full-bellied laugh as if her disbelief were the funniest thing in the world.
“Why don’t you believe me?”
Eliza pursed her lips. She wasn’t going to get trapped like this. She was sure that this was Brett’s idea of a joke but she didn’t find it particularly funny.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh c’mon. You know. You don’t believe a man who talks like I do and who dresses like I do could be a millionaire.”
Eliza shrugged. Brett was right but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
“Well I’ll tell you how I did it if you let me walk you home.”
“Nice move,” She began, “My kids must be getting hungry anyways. You can walk me home. But I still don’t believe you’re a millionaire.”
Eliza started the walk home. Brett offered to carry her bag with the jerk chicken cartons, so she let him.
“Well, my mama’s the daughter of some Atlanta multi-millionaires. They didn’t want a damned thing to do with her when she married my paw. He’s a poor farmer, owned a place ‘bout fifty miles outside of Miami. So they cut my mama out of the will and when my granddaddy died, all his money went to his grandchildren.”
Brett took a drag of his almost-finished cigarette.
Then, he continued, “Well my granddaddy banked on my aunties havin’ kids but none of ‘em did. Both of ‘em got hitched to other women and fled up north. I was the only grandkid left kickin’ round. My granddaddy died ‘bout eight years ago and I inherited everything he had.”
“What about your grandma?”
Brett shrugged, “She died a week after he did. From grief. Can’t figure out why. He was an old bastard…”
Eliza flinched at Brett’s harshness but she had to admit that she found him appealing. She wasn’t sure if she believed his story. It could have been true or it could have been some well-crafted tall tale to impress her. Either way, she nodded along as if she believed him.
“So you’re a multi-millionaire.”
“Yup,” Brett nodded, “My mama’s part of the Colton family in Atlanta.”
“Hold on… Like Colton Hardware?”
Brett nodded, “Yup. My granddaddy sold the place years ago but that’s us.”
“But you aren’t…”
“Naw, I ain’t a Colton, bless the Lord. I’m Brett Carver and I thank the Lord I’ve had a normal life. There was a reason my mama wanted to escape Atlanta and I’m glad she did.”
Brett grinned, “What’s crazier is how beautiful you are.”
“Whatever,” Eliza replied, unimpressed.
Smooth talkers like Brett ran the south and they left babies everywhere their sweet-talk worked. Eliza wasn’t so stupid to find herself falling for cheap lines from tanned Southerners with cigarettes hanging from their mouths.
“Are we close to your place?”
He followed his compliment with a deep, penetrating stare as if he was searching for something in Eliza’s eyes. She hadn’t realized how attracted to him she felt until she the heat started rising to her cheeks and she felt her bosom heaving with desire. What the heck?
Sure, he was good looking, strong and he had a certain amount of charm. But Eliza knew better than to pursue every twinge of attraction she felt for a man. After Trey, Eliza knew that she had to be careful. All those years of pain meant she’d learned a valuable lesson about letting men into her life just because of the way they made her heart flutter. Something about Brett put a pause on her desire to suppress every positive sensation stimulated in her by a man.
“So tell me more about yourself, Eliza?”
Eliza’s heart quickened with a mixture of fear and excitement. Why did he want to know? He wouldn’t give it a rest if she didn’t answer; Eliza could tell that much.
Eliza sighed, “Well I got two kids, my own business, own a duplex that I share with my parents and by the time I’m forty-five I want to retire.”
Brett grinned, “Two kids?”
“Yup. Sylvie and Karen.”
“Are your daughters as beautiful as you are?”
Eliza grinned, “Yes. They are.”
“You shy, Eliza? Don’t get complimented like that often?”
“I get complimented just enough thank you very much.”
“Quit the sass ma’am, just tryin’ to find out if there’s any other dogs barkin’ up your tree.”
Eliza wrinkled her nose, “No, there aren’t any dogs barkin’ up my tree. And that phrase is disgusting by the way.”
“Just part of my Southern charm…”
“We’re only a few houses away from my place.”
“Lemme guess, that gorgeous white house is yours.”
Eliza was surprised that he’d actually guessed.
“Yes…” She admitted, “What are you, some kind of stalker?”
“Naw. I can tell you’re a classic kinda woman. You wouldn’t belong in any other place but that what. It’s nice, Southern and fit for a Queen.”
“Oh yeah?” Eliza teased, “So a ‘millionaire’ like yourself doesn’t look down on my humble little abode.”
“Just ‘cause I’m rich don’t make me a snob. I never knew money my whole life,” Brett confessed with a shrug.
Jada wasn’t sure that a single part of her believed him. Just ‘cause he kept saying it, didn’t mean he was truly rich. Brett reached into his side pocket and pulled out another cigarette. Then he reached into his back pocket for a lighter.
“Found yourself a light huh?” Eliza asked.
Brett threw up his hands, “You caught me… That was just an excuse to talk to you. I noticed you standing in Kelly’s and damn, even if I was mad as hell you caught my eye.”
“Well your little ploy worked… But I’m at my place so I’ve got to leave you now Mr. Carver…”
“And I guess I’d better leave you Mrs…”
“Not Mrs. I’m Eliza Rice. Miss Eliza Rice.”
“Alright Miss Rice. Are you sure I can’t come in?”
Eliza shook her head.
“Sorry Mr. Carver, my kids are up there and they are hungrier than a pack of coyotes.”
“Well maybe I can see you again some time?”
A date. He was asking her on a date all up front like that. Eliza was intimidated by how forward he was. All of this had happened so suddenly. Moments ago, he was causing a scene at Jemma’s Jerk and now he was asking her on a date?
In theory, it seemed like a bad idea. But Eliza had enjoyed her walk home with Brett. He pricked her nerves, but he also made her heart race in that warm and delicious way that happens when there is new love. She’d enjoyed his stories, his liberal compliments and the gentlemanly way he’d carried her food all the way to the door. Eliza wasn’t a fan of the smoking but she could tolerate it. At least it was better than drinking. As usual, drinking made her think of Trey, which served as a sober reminder to slow down when it came to men — especially men who could turn on the charm like that.
“I don’t know…”
“I know you want to say yes,” Brett asserted.
He was right too. Eliza did want to say yes. Even if it was unconventional for her to go out with a man she’d met off the street. He made her want to say yes.
“You’re right. I do want to say yes,” Eliza started, “So yes, yes we can see each other again.”
Eliza nodded, “Sure.”
“I’d better give you my number then,” Brett said.
He reached into his back pocket for a his wallet and a ballpoint pen. He scribbled his phone number on an old receipt and handed it to Eliza.
“You know where you can find me,” Brett added with a wink.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”
“No trouble at all missy,” Brett said, “See ya later.”
Eliza waved goodbye and then entered her house. Karen and Sylvie sprinted towards her. They’d been waiting quite a while for their dinner and they were voracious. Eliza sat them down and shared out the heaping portions of jerk pork and chicken. She sat around the small dining table with her daughters and they started to eat.
“Did y’all call grandma and grandpa?”
“No mama,” Karen said.
“And you minded your sister?”
Sylvie’s face broke out into a mischievous grin.
“Karen fell asleep!” Sylvie announced.
“Sylvie shut up! You such a damn snitch!”
“Hey! No cussin’,” Eliza chastised Karen.
Her daughter glared at Sylvie who stuck out her tongue in retaliation.
“Y’all better fix your mood once you eat that jerk. I don’t wanna see no more of this fighting.”
“Yes mama,” They replied in unison.
Eliza felt blessed by her daughters’ ability to get along with each other. There were many difficult aspects to being a single mother but her daughters made life both easy and worthwhile. As she ate dinner and listened to her daughters talking, Eliza’s mind wandered to her pending date with Brett.
She’d been so focused on their first meeting that she hadn’t really thought about it. She might have first caught Brett at a bad time but he wasn’t broke, he was handsome as hell and he had a daredevil attitude that made Eliza’s heart race.
A date with a man like Brett` would be a very interesting change of pace.
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