Tag: Romance Novel Excerpts

Romance Novel Excerpts: United In Spirit

Romance Novel Excerpts United In SpiritUnited In Spirit is one of Jamila Jasper's free-spirited romance novel excerpts. Like most of her pregnancy romance books, this story features a black woman and a white man (with Asian heritage). In one of her most interesting romance novels, Jamila explores the steamy and forbidden relationship between the main character Camilla and her love interest Chuck. If you love romantic stories featuring steamy encounters and attractive African American female characters, you'll definitely enjoy this sweet story.

In this story, Camilla Rainey is a recently divorced mother of one. She is the picture of African American perfection and pride: dedicated mother and a hard worker who values education. Her biracial son Malcolm is her pride and joy. Camilla has big dreams for herself and even bigger dreams for her son. She won't let a thing get in her way — not nasty rumors or painful stereotypes. When she starts receiving giant alimony cheques from her ex-husband Frederic, Camilla enrolls Malcolm in a prestigious local private school to further his education…

On the first day of school, Camilla meets one of Malcolm's teachers, a handsome white man named Charles "Chuck" Coleridge. Chuck's Asian heritage isn't his only secret. On his thirtieth birthday, he will become sole proprietor of a business worth around one billion dollars. The only problem is, Chuck must obey his parents' wishes until then in order to receive this fortune.

Chuck's parents are incredibly wealthy and part of an extreme cult that requires sexual purity and requires that Chuck marry someone within the church. Of course, Chuck is far from pure and he has no intention of marrying anyone from his church. Chuck's ex-girlfriend was unable to accept that Chuck needed to keep their relationship a secret until he turned thirty.

Ever since Chuck dropped the axe, Fiona launched a campaign to ruin his life. As Chuck and Camilla become more and more involved, Fiona's tactics get more extreme and more than one person is in danger.

Camilla's main priority is to protect her son Malcolm. As her life becomes more and more dangerous, Camilla is afraid she'll have to cut Chuck off.

Will she have to give up a chance with the one man she ever loved to protect her son? Will Chuck manage to collect his inheritance before his parents find out about his betrayal?

Romance Novel Excerpts: United In Spirit



Romance Novel Excerpts: From Safe With Me

Romance Novel Excerpts - Safe With MeThis is a romance novel excerpt from Jamila Jasper's latest novel, Safe With Me. As one of Jamila Jasper's pregnancy romance books, this book dives into the story of Shakira and Charles. This black woman and white man have a shocking connection from the past that threatens to get in the way of their romance.

If you love romantic stories, you'll definitely enjoy this excerpt from a new contemporary interracial romance book. This is one of Jamila's best steamy romance books to date.

This story is about a black woman named Shakira whose life dream is to open up her own salon. She's career oriented and has no time for a social life outside of her best friend Deion. At thirty five years old, Shakira has practically given up on finding love but when she reconnects with a man from her past, she may be able to find love and stay true to herself.

That is, if they can overcome all the obstacles that are keeping them apart…

Both of them have years of baggage to work through and it's unclear whether their relationship will survive up until the very end of the story.

Romance Novel Excerpt:

Chapter 1

“No. Deion… Just no. Don’t even think about it!” Why would you suggest something like that to me?” Shakira whined.

Deion kept filing her nails, barely looking up.

“Because. You seem like you need someone in your life Shakira. Everything can’t just be about work and sulking.”

“I write too…”

“Oh who cares? It’s not healthy for you to be like this.”

“Relationships aren’t everything, Deion.”

“You say that… But I know you Shakira. How can it hurt? It’s just one blind date. If you have a shit time, I’ll owe you.”


“Owe me what?”

“Anything you want sugar.”

“Your taste in men is crap Deion.”

“Well at least I get laid.”

“There’s no point in me having a relationship anyways. Where can it possibly go? I’m too busy with work. I have goals Deion. Not everything can be about men. It would be doomed from the start.”

“Shakira, you know those are just excuses.”

Shakira scoffed. “These aren’t just excuses Deion. It’s called being practical.”

“You can’t hide from love forever.”

“Wow have you been filling up on romantic comedies or something?”

“Hush. You just need to agree.”

Shakira thought for a few moments while still scowling at Deion. Shakira pulled her long black curls into a bun on the top of her head. She couldn’t believe that Deion would spring this on her all of a sudden. Why was she so obsessed with getting Shakira to go on a blind date anyways? What could she possibly stand to gain from such a thing?

“I’m going to get my iPad upstairs,” Shakira mumbled.

“Well think about it while you’re up there. I’m finishing off your moscato.”

Shakira ran upstairs to search her bedroom for her iPad. She instinctively stopped to look into her bedroom mirror as she passed it. Wow. I look tired. Shakira thought to herself. She wasn’t sure when she’d become that person who was constantly exhausted, but the change showed on her face. Her sepia toned skin looked more dry and sallow than usual. The dark circles under her eyes were about to take on a life of their own. Shakira’s deep grey eyes looked forlorn. Maybe Deion was right. Maybe the one way to kick this funk was to live a little – step outside her menial routine.

Shakira reached into her top drawer and pulled out her iPad before returning downstairs. As promised, Deion had finished her moscato.


“I told you I was going to finish it.”

Shakira sighed.

“Girl, don’t be so down. Let me tell you… This week, I met the finest woman at the salon! I could tell she was on the fence about me but she had to be gay. She just had to be. I saw that wedding ring and everything but I wasn’t fooled, not for a second…”

“And then what?”

“Well she slipped me her number! But you know me… I’m no fool. I researched her and saw that her husband plays for the local minor league baseball team… No way! He looks like he could kill me with one hand. I ripped her number up and threw it in the trash.”

“Yeah… I know that’s not the end of the story,” Shakira said, folding her arms.

“Well she showed up at my place… I don’t know how she found out where I live or nothing and well… let’s just say it was everything I could have hoped for.”

Shakira chuckled. “Thanks for sparing me the gory details this time.”

“I got my pussy ate until the sun came up.” Deion finished.

Shakira knew she couldn’t help herself. She wished she could be as comfortable with her sexuality as Deion was. Shakira just got squeamish hearing about those types of things. A part of it was the fact that she’d never had sex. Shakira planned to save herself for marriage. Of course she’d done “other things” but she was still uncomfortable with the idea of actually making love to someone she didn’t love with all her heart. Call me old fashioned. Shakira would think. Either way, it was something that she knew would never change.

“So… When are you going to say yes to that blind date offer?” Deion pressed.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Say it with some feeling!”

“Yes! I’ll go on a blind date.”

“Good! I know you’ll like him. Just trust me.”

“I don’t trust you on this one.”

“I know… But this time, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

“Well you’re going to want to get ready because the date is at 6 p.m. tonight.”

“I thought we were going to Applebees!”

“That was a lie so I could make sure you wouldn’t book that time tonight. Get your ass up and we’ll find you an outfit that screams sex.”

“Deion! I’m not prepared! I have dark circles under my eyes…”

“—So what? Concealer can fix all your problems Shakira. Let’s go.”

Deion got up and grabbed Shakira by the arm, reluctantly dragging her upstairs to her bedroom. Shakira sat on her bed with a dejected look on her face while Deion plucked approved dresses out of her closet.



“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I just don’t think I’m going to meet anyone worthwhile on a blind date. Isn’t it better to do things the old fashioned way?”

“Get married at twelve and have babies until you die in child birth?” Deion scoffed.


“—There’s no old fashioned way to be a woman in this world. Don’t live in a dream land.”

Shakira knew that she was defeated, at least for now.

She didn’t feel like she could think about something like a date right now. Deion’s attempts to distract her were admirable but not necessarily effective. Shakira had too much going on. The salon where she and Deion worked was probably going under. Shakira had heard a rumor from one of the nail techs that was close with the boss. If the salon went under, Shakira had no idea how she would pay rent. Or her student loans. She needed that job.

Shakira was saving up to start her own hair salon in the town where her parents lived. She would never be able to reach her goal if the salon went under. Shakira knew it would be risky anyways to go into business alone but that was all she had.

Deion didn’t seem to be too worried about that but Shakira knew that Deion had clients on the side. Plus, Deion’s brother owned a barbershop and Deion could always get a job there. Shakira was too busy worried about hustling to think about dating. Of course, Deion refused to accept that. She was that one friend who was always meddling…

“How about this one?” Deion suggested, pulling out an emerald green dress.

Shakira shrugged.

“Cheer up! If you don’t have a good attitude about this… I’ll find some way to make you pay. What the hell is the problem with having a good time anyways?”

“It just feels fake. Everything could collapse in an instant. How can I spend money on a date?”

“Because… It’s not a crime to have a good time Shakira! No need to be a downer.”

“Are you sure I can’t rain check?”

“Nope. I already promised you were coming.”

“Before I even agreed to anything?”

Deion smiled.


Shakira got up and snatched the dress from Deion’s hand. She slipped into her bathroom to try the dress on and then emerged into her bedroom. Even Shakira had to admit that putting on the dress changed her entire mood. She didn’t feel quite so sour.


Shakira spun around. The emerald dress hugged her curves and stretched down to just below her knee. Shakira’s breasts were large and perky and created a nice bit of cleavage in the front of the dress. A smile cracked across Shakira’s face for the first time.

“See? You feel better already don’t you.”

Shakira nodded.

“But I’ve got to do something about this face.”

“I’m your girl. You know, I’ve been taking makeup clients on the side. You should get a little more skilled and we’ll see if you can help me out.”

Shakira’s heart warmed to Deion. She knew this was her friend’s attempt at offering to help her out. Deion knew how worried Shakira was about money.

“Thanks Deion… My makeup bag is in the bathroom.”

Deion got up and searched Shakira’s bathroom for her makeup. Shakira walked to her mirror again and spun around. The dress made her look like she’d walked off a runway. Shakira wasn’t exactly a petite woman – she stood at a towering 5’10”. Because of this people often perceived her as masculine or butch. In a dress like this, there was no mistaking how feminine she was. Shakira knew that she still had it. Her parents constantly downed her for being in her thirties and unmarried but they didn’t understand what the dating game was like any more. It was hard to find someone real.

Deion emerged from the bathroom and gestured for Shakira to sit herself down on the bed.

She pulled out her tools and got to work on Shakira’s face. Deion’s skin was a sweet russet tone and she loved changing her hair; nearly every time Shakira saw her she had a different wig on or a different style altogether. Today she was wearing a long dark red wig. Deion pulled her hair into a ponytail and pursed her lips as she brushed foundations and powders over Shakira’s face.

Shakira closed her eyes and focused on the sensations of the soft bristles as Deion worked her magic. After a few minutes, Deion whispered, “Open your eyes.”

Shakira’s eyelashes fluttered open and before she’d even looked at herself, she felt spectacular. Deion shoved a hand mirror in front of Shakira’s face and she saw someone she barely recognized in the mirror.

“Deion!” Shakira exclaimed.

Shakira had no idea how Deion had executed such artistry. Shakira’s dark circles were gone. Her skin had regained life and her eyes possessed a sultry, seductive power.

“Did you forget?”

“Forget what?”

“Forget that you’re beautiful.”

Shakira looked up at Deion gratefully.

“Now don’t cry. You’ll mess it up,” Deion teased.

“I guess I’ve got to leave soon right?”

“Sure but not before you have a glass of wine right?” Deion suggested.

Shakira nodded and they walked downstairs together. Shakira wondered what on earth she’d done to deserve a friend who was as loyal as Deion was. Deion dipped into Shakira’s cupboard and poured them both glasses of wine.

“Thanks,” Shakira muttered as the smooth taste warmed her throat.

Deion nodded.

“So you won’t tell me anything about this date?”

“Deion shook her head.”

“What about a name?”

“Fine… His name is Charles.”

“Charles what?”

“Charles North.”

“He’s white?”

“I never said that.”

Shakira shot a sideways glance at Deion.

“You’ll have a good time, I promise,” Deion suggested.

Shakira finished off her wine.

“I hope so.”

“You’re meeting him at Serenade by the way.”


“What’s wrong with Serenade?

“Well it’s a bit fancy don’t you think?”

“Of course it’s fancy. Why do you think I wanted you to go?”


“Listen, just stop wigging out. You need to live a little Shakira. No one wants to be around a wet blanket.”

“Are you saying…”

“—Nuh uh. I’m not playing this game with you right now. I meant exactly what I said and I’m done throwing you pity parties. You can’t stop living just because of what happened with Lionel…”

“I don’t want to hear his name.”

“Fine. And you also can’t stop living because of what happened with Danny.”

Shakira felt a sharp pang in her chest. The wounds from Danny were still too fresh; Shakira didn’t appreciate Deion throwing that pain in her face. She had thought Danny was the love of her life. He seemed sweet and caring and promised that he understood her commitment to not having sex until marriage. One night, things turned sour and Danny had tried to force himself on her. Shakira had dumped him right then and there.

“Fine. I’m going on the date okay? I’m giving it a shot.”

“Good for you,” Deion said.

“Are you staying over here tonight?” Shakira asked.

Deion nodded.

“If you don’t mind. I want to be here when you come back so I can hear all the juicy details.”

“Well there will be no juicy details. I don’t sleep with people on the first date.”

Deion raised her eyebrows.

“I’m serious,” Shakira replied.

Deion shrugged. “Do what you have to.”

“How do I look?”

“You know how you look…”

Shakira smiled.

“How do you feel?” Deion asked.

“Like a million bucks.”

Deion and Shakira looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“I’ve never used that phrase before.”

“And I hope you never use it again.”

They laughed again.

“I have leftovers in the fridge you can eat for dinner,” Shakira said as she picked up a light jacket and her car keys.

Deion nodded. She had no problem raiding Shakira’s fridge for a snack or two here or there.

Shakira burst out into the chilly spring evening. The days were starting to get longer again and the air smelled fresher and fresher.

I’ll be fine. This will all be fine.


Chapter 2

Shakira drove herself to the restaurant and even if she tried to take her time, she arrived fifteen minutes early. She was the type of woman who was punctual to a fault. Most of her friends and coworkers teased her for missing the memo on “colored people time.”  Shakira knew there was a reservation for North and the hostess led her to a private table near the back of the restaurant. Interesting seating choice. Serenade was remarkably empty for a weekday. Shakira relaxed back into her seat and ordered a glass of water.

For a while, Shakira just watched the people in the restaurant. There were only three other tables occupied. One table was a blonde woman sitting by herself. She was weeping into her grilled salmon and looking at her phone. Shakira wondered what her deal was. Then there was an elderly black couple sitting in the center of the restaurant. They stared into each other’s eyes like they were on their first date all over again. Shakira couldn’t help but smile. They reminded her of her parents. Shakira hadn’t spoken to them in a while but in some ways, she missed them and the way they looked so tender and in love with each other.

The third table was an Asian family. The husband looked warm and friendly as he fed their adorable chubby baby some of the mashed potatoes from his plate. His wife looked exhausted, but there was the faintest smile on her face that told Shakira she was still happy.

Smooth jazz filled the restaurant, giving it a soft romantic ambience that surely played a role in improving the mood of all the evening’s diners. Shakira pulled out her phone in an attempt to seem occupied. Considering the only other person sitting alone in the restaurant was crying into her fish… Shakira didn’t want to be seen as lonely by association. She figured that she would just check out this “Charles North” online before he arrived.

Suspicious. Shakira found Charles’ profile but she could barely see what was on it. What she did see didn’t look good. The figure in the picture looked odd. Shakira didn’t like to judge other people’s looks too much but she would also have been offended if Deion didn’t think she could do better than this. Shakira hoped that the grimy, blurred person she was seeing in the picture looked better in person.

Were they standing on a farm? Shakira also noticed that the social media profile didn’t appear very active. Strange. Was there anyone in this day and age that didn’t update the world on every minute happening in their life?

Shakira wondered if her suspicions were aroused solely because she would have found any excuse not to look forward to the date. Could she really be that petty? Shakira sighed and waited. It was exactly 6 p.m. and her date had yet to walk through the door. She ordered another glass of water and continued to wait patiently.

At five minutes past six, the door to Serenade swung open. Shakira nearly spat out her water. This had to be her blind date – the restaurant was empty enough that no other options made sense. But this couldn’t be?! This couldn’t be the same person Shakira had seen in the online profile. Sure, the picture had been small and blurry but this just didn’t add up.

The man sat down across from Shakira with a giant smile plastered across his face. “Shakira?”

Once Shakira heard the man’s voice, memories flooded back into her head. He sounded a bit different now but still familiar. Shakira thought she was about to faint. No… This couldn’t be him. It was impossible. Charles North. Deion said that she’d set her up with someone called Charles North…

“Chuck?” Shakira choked out.

Charles smiled. “I used to be Chuck. I don’t go by that name anymore.”

Shakira couldn’t believe who the man sitting in front of her was.

“But what about your last name? North?” Shakira asked. She was getting frantic and she could see that Charles still didn’t recognize her.

Charles chuckled.

“My father… Let’s just say we have a bad history. When I turned eighteen I took my mother’s last name.”


“Shakira… How do I know you? You obviously know me and well, the name rings a bell.”

Shakira couldn’t believe that Chuck Thompson didn’t remember her. After all the shit she’d gone through with that guy? It was downright unbelievable.

“You really don’t remember?”

Charles shook his head.

“I can’t believe Deion set me up on a blind date with you.”

“Please… Remind me of how we know each other?” Charles asked.

Shakira was interrupted from revealing how they knew each other when the waitress popped back and took their order. That was Shakira’s out. If she didn’t want to go through with the date a simple “just drinks” would suffice. But Shakira had put too much effort into getting ready and she was driven by her curiosity to see how things would play out with Charles. Charles. Shakira had to get used to saying the name. She didn’t know if it was really possible to truly adjust.

They both ordered sirloin steaks and red wine.

“Camp Omega. 1994.”

Charles’ eyes bulged open.

“Holy shit. Shakira Jean Baptiste.”

Shakira nodded. Her lips curled up into a smile when she saw how uncomfortable Charles was with his realization. Of course he was uncomfortable.

Imagine how I felt. Shakira thought.

“That was over twenty years ago,” Charles muttered.

He took a huge swig of his wine, leaving just a few drops left in the glass. Yes, Shakira supposed that she looked different now than she did then – especially with a full face of makeup on. Charles looked different too.

First of all, back then “Chuck” had long blonde hair that swooped over his eyes and covered his head like a helmet. Now his hair had changed into a deep chestnut color and it was cropped far shorter more in line with the modern styles men wore. Hisattitude seemed different too. Chuck had been the King of the Hill at Camp Omega. Now, he was mellowed out. Calm. He seemed war hardened in some ways – Shakira couldn’t exactly figure out why.

Of course his body was different too. Back then, boys and girls had all looked the same except for the few who had experienced early puberty. Charles looked different. He wasn’t skinny or shrimpy. His body was sculpted as if he’d put in a few hundred hours at the gym since Camp. He looked strong. He was wearing black jeans with an expensive looking white shirt. He looked sexy, like he’d walked out of a fantasy. Charles oozed wealth and his mannerisms were suave and sexy. He was no longer a hyperactive kid. He was a grown man through and through. But were good looks enough to make up for their history?

The waitress brought them their food. Shakira started eating as slowly as possible savoring the medium rare steak in front of her. Charles had ordered his steak the same way except he was anxiously picking at his food almost as if there was too much on his mind for him to focus on eating.

“So Shakira… What have you been up to these days?”

“I work at a salon over in Riversdale.”


“What about you?”

“I’ve been working with my mother on a new business venture. We’ve started a programming academy for teens. I’ve been sort of retired from serious money making for a bit.”


“I guess so.”

“I’m sorry… I’m just having a hard time really believing what’s going on right now.”

“Why is that?”

“I would have never guessed…”

“I’ve changed haven’t I?” Charles continued.

Shakira nodded.

“So have you.”

Shakira didn’t know what to think about this.

“Since when are you… you know…Dating black women” Shakira mumbled.

Charles laughed.

“Oh come on Shakira. Do you really think so little of me? How could you ask that.”

“You’re right.”

Shakira just couldn’t believe it. How could this be the same Charles? It was impossible.

“I guess I’m just looking for an explanation.”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Shakira perked up. She wasn’t sure what life story could have led Charles down this path but she would have been lying if she said that she wasn’t curious. Shakira felt like she needed to know.

“God… It all feels so long ago. Well at seventeen my father kicked me out of my home. That was a trip. It was around then that I started having people call me Charles. I guess I used to love going by Chuck because I wanted nothing more than to be a like my father back then. Everyone used to call him Chuck. But I could never fill big ole Chuck Thompson’s boots. Anyways… I lived on the streets for a while. I don’t really want to talk about the sorts of things that happened there –.”

Charles paused and chewed up a piece of his steak. Shakira could see that he was reserved. He was confident enough to tell his story but he still seemed worried – as if he was concerned about what Shakira would think. This whole experience was stranger than fiction. She never thought that she would come face to face with Chuck Thompson again. Although this may have been a different man entirely. He certainly behaved differently and his name was different too.

Charles continued, “So then I waited until I was eighteen. Then… I came into my trust fund. And I finished high school. And I changed my name. Chuck became Charles. Thompson became North. Well my grandparents weren’t thrilled so they refused to pay my college tuition. I had to work my ass off for three years to save up. I lived with my mother’s sister for a while. Then I managed to get a couple scholarships plus my dad was a legacy so I ended up at Princeton. Lucky me. It was a shit place. No one understood me… The people I fit in with weren’t like me at all… And I was starting to realize what type of person I was and that didn’t really fit in either.”

“Princeton. Impressive.”

Charles smiled.

“It was a wreck. I nearly flunked out twice. I was majoring in computer science and it was a total pain. I had no money and my mother refused to help. My precious father still had her under his thumb. But I graduated. Barely. And ever since then I’ve been working for different companies… More on my own schedule than anything. Recently my mother just divorced my father and well, we’ve started working together since then. She was always really smart. I’m glad she got away from that fucker.”

“Wow. You’ve had… Quite a life.”

“Yes… And going into computers was the smartest thing I did. I cashed in big time during the dot com boom.”

“I feel like a dinosaur.”

“I know. The nineties… were so long ago. So much of it is still a blur to me.”

“Well they’re still crystal clear to me,” Shakira added. She realized that she could have cut back on the smugness but she couldn’t help it. Shakira couldn’t pretend that this was all okay.

She wondered what on earth Charles meant about them all being a blur? The way he spoke, Shakira was certain that something had happened to him. What could have turned him into someone so different from the person he was back then?

“I’ve hurt a lot of people Shakira, not just you.”

Shakira was shocked at how direct Charles was.


“Don’t lie. I saw the way you looked at me when I walked in here, like you’d seen a ghost.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ve just… I’ve just had a shit deal.”

“A lot of people have.”

“Well not like I have. Most people have a lot of petty shit going on Shakira. My life has been escaping out of one black hole after another,” Charles snapped.

“I didn’t mean to suggest…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Charles interrupted.

Shakira was desperate to change the subject.

“Why did you agree to this blind date? How do you know Deion?”

Charles’ facial expression softened considerably.

“Deion and I go way back.”

“How far back?”

“I’ve known her since I was eighteen.”

“But we’ve never so much as come across each other…”

“I try to stay out of the limelight. I’ve been busy working and taking care of other things.”

Shakira nodded. She wondered what other things he was referring to but she didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask.

Charles continued, “If I’m going to be honest, my friends have been getting on my case. They think I need to find someone fast or I’m going to die a miserable old man.”

Shakira let out a laugh. “Well you wouldn’t believe… That’s exactly what my friends have been telling me.”

“I guess we can’t disappoint them.”

Charles smiled. Shakira was still disturbed by how comfortable Charles seemed with this whole affair. Maybe it was normal to let bygones just be. Shakira didn’t consider herself someone who had trouble letting go of the past. It’s just that some things were difficult to let go of.

Click Here to Continue Reading Safe With Me: BWWM Pregnancy Romance Novel

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If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can also read a romance novel excerpt from Jamila Jasper's best selling story Trust Fund Baby. Click here to find out more about Trust Fund Baby!

Books Similar to 50 Shades Of Grey: Hershey’s Kiss

Books Similar to 50 Shades of Grey Hershey's Kiss If you like books similar to 50 Shades of Grey, you'll enjoy Raven Ferrari's debut novel Hershey's Kiss. One of her amazing romance novels, Raven's story explores an interracial romance through the eyes of the billionaire Brandon as he falls out of love with his shallow wife and in love with his black governess, Hershey. If you love romantic stories featuring attractive billionaire's and confident, intelligent black women, you'll love Hershey's Kiss.

A man who seems to have it all is having trouble holding it all together. Brandon Boulder is a white alpha male billionaire with the "perfect" family. Except for the fact that his wife is a drug addict and serial cheat who refuses to care for their autistic son. A lesser man would have given up on the marriage and cheated on Jeanette Boulder long ago, but Brandon was a man of morals who turned down the advances of women at every turn.

The one person Brandon loved more than anyone in the world was his son, Jason. But Jason had problems of his own and had to be pulled out of school for the discrimination he faced due to his autism. Brandon had nowhere to turn so he hired a renowned au pair… Hershey Alexander.

Hershey Alexander, an accomplished black woman, was a naturally beautiful and confident savant who was more than happy for this well paying gig.

Brandon and Hershey soon discover their fatal attraction and fall madly in love, but neither of them could predict the impact they would have on each other's lives, or the lengths Jeanette would go to keep her breadwinner. What would Brandon have to lose to get the woman of his dreams to be his forever?

Books Similar to 50 Shades of Grey: Hershey's Kiss Excerpt



“Hey honey…” Jeanette said. “I didn’t know you were home yet. Come try this martini I had special ordered to me. Cost only $5000, and the thing is to-fucking-die-for.”


While accepting the martini glass that was thrust into his hand, Brandon responded with a curious raise of his eyebrow.


“Hey Jin,” he said. “Did you pick up Jason already? It seems kind of early for you to be drinking so much…”


While Brandon ran a multi-billion-dollar company, Jeanette’s responsibilities were but a few. Actually… There was only one. She was responsible for their son, Jason. For the last few weeks, Brandon and Jeanette started to suspect that something may be wrong with Jason. He wasn’t as well-adjusted as the other kids at school. He couldn’t figure out how to pee in a toilet bowl yet, so he wore a diaper. He hadn’t figured out how to draw yet, so while his peers would draw stick figures of their families, Jason would just scribble to his heart’s content. Brandon had a team of doctors check his son; his pride and joy.


Jeanette was a white trust fund baby who had spent the majority of her life “trying to keep the weight of” through a number of unhealthy methods. As a result, she looked perpetually gaunt, even haunting. She had dirty blonde hair, shoulder length that she wore in a twisted, complicated bun. Her eyes were brown to the point where they looked pitch black. Sometimes, staring into her eyes would send a primal chill throughout Brandon’s body. The darkness of her eyes contrasted with her pallor giving her a nearly demonic look at times.


Of course, Jeanette was “conventionally” beautiful. That had to have been part of the reason Brandon married her. She dressed tastefully in the most expensive clothing. She was educated at the finest private schools and universities. Jeanette obtained her Mrs. degree and immediately found a husband who could keep up with her fast-paced spending habits. Jeanette was a woman of the upper class, but that didn’t mean she was perfect.


But Brandon didn’t have time to think about Jeanette… The thought of a son who might not be perfectly healthy terrified Brandon. He himself was abnormally healthy for his age. He was extremely athletic. Brandon made the mistake of trying to swim at a public pool last summer, and within 15 minutes the paparazzi descended upon him like locusts and swarmed around the pool, viciously snapping pictures. The flashes were enough to induce an epileptic seizure. The next day, Brandon was on the cover of seventeen tabloids, and nine major magazines. Most of them zoomed in on one tiny part of his body: his hip flexors.


Those were the muscles which trailed from his abdominals all the way into his groin. They were the muscles of Greek gods and Roman statues. Brandon’s flexors signified ultimate beauty, as they had for thousands of years. That little swimming pool episode instantly triggered a new hip flexor trend around fashionistas and Hollywood celebrities. Now it wasn’t good enough to have a sixpack, you had to have those damn hip flexors. If your hip flexors didn’t trail into your cock like some biological innuendo —  if moviegoers couldn’t see that the magic V — then you were nothing. Shit.  All of this started, because Brandon wanted to take a damned swim.


After months of concern, Brandon has his son tested. Brandon knew he would love his son anyway; he just wanted to know what was wrong. The doctor’s report came back with one clear message: Jason was autistic. So nothing was really “wrong”, but it would be a lot of work to mold Jason’s world to fit his unique psychological profile. Jeanette seemed to be neutral about this information, but Brandon was absolutely devastated. Brandon was a perfect genetic specimen. He was vastly intelligent, he was extremely handsome, and he had the body of an Adonis. What’s more, Brandon had the highest aspirations for his son, Jason. He dreamed of the day when, after grooming his little boy for years, Jason would take the mantle and grow Boulder Corp into an even bigger and better organization. With this news, Brandon’s dream seemed to shatter to a million pieces.


While it was difficult to see his son struggling with a condition that would render him a pariah; watching his wife Jeanette descend into an abyss of alcoholism felt like shards of glass were being thrown in his eye. When they got married, they promised that they wouldn’t be like those other rich people who paid everybody to keep their kids as far away from them as possible. Brandon and Jeanette vowed to be active parents; the type who knew who their kid’s friends were, and where they were after dark. That’s why Jeanette’s next words hit Brandon like a bus, almost knocking him over…


“Nah…” Jeanette said. “I didn’t get him yet. He’s still at school. The Amex concierge service will be waiting for him when he gets out.”


Brandon’s face turned white, then red, then blue, then back to red. He instantly daydreamed about strangling this woman, this stranger in his wife’s body. Who would ever do something so irresponsible? Leaving a four year old autistic boy to be picked up by some strange man in a car? Brandon felt such strong proportions of rage and stupor that he was completely gridlocked and couldn’t say anything. He simply dropped the martini glass in his hand to the ground out of pure shock.


“Brandon! Look what you did! This was a $5000 martini. Sloan Brinkley personally made it me and rush delivered it in a liquid nitrogen cooler… Ah forget it. You’ve probably never even heard of Sloan before. How could you ever appreciate fine things if you don’t even know the world’s greatest mixologist?”


“Maybe if you worried about your son the way you worried about booze…” He muttered through gritted teeth.


Brandon’s remark instantly sent Jeanette into a fit of defensive rage. It was such an automatic response that it wasn’t clear whether this was all happening at random, or if she was looking for a fight. Jeanette smashed a nearby vase, and then she leapt at the first expensive painting she could find to scratch and claw at it, all the while screaming and howling like a monstrous animal.


“Don’t you fucking blame me for what happened yesterday… You can’t blame me for that shit.”


Jeanette reached for an ornament on a nearby surface and she launched it across the room. It smashed into the wall and broke into thousands of pieces. Brandon was now growing tired of her violent antics, so he stepped toward her, squared his shoulders to hers, and he gently placed his hands on her elbows so that she would stop. Then, Brandon continued with a more soothing tone of voice. This was a smart move…


“Jeanette, your son needs you. Why aren’t you willing to be there for him?”


Tears start streaming from Jeanette’s face.


* * *


The Amex concierge delivery service did just as it promised. When school was over, it delivered little Jason to the manor. To their credit, they’d done their job perfectly. It was just everyone else who was screwing up. By the time Jason arrived, Jeanette was in a drunken stupor, and she was fuming in a locked room somewhere. She was far too absorbed in her own selfish concerns to notice that something was seriously up with Jason. As the Amex concierge service guy handed Jason to Brandon, he looked nervous.


“I think you should give a call to his school right away.” said the Amex guy.


“Why? What’s the matter?” Brandon said, feeling increasingly concerned as he saw that his child was visibly upset. Jason folded his arms tightly and looked at the ground. His face had streams of dried tears on each side and it was clenched in a terrible frown.


“I think he had an accident, or something.” said the Amex guy.


Since Jason refused to say a word, Brandon immediately called the school and found out all the details. Sometime after lunch, the teachers found him rocking back and forth in a corner, facing the wall. There were more kids encircling him about 10 feet away. That was about as close as they were willing to go, no further.


All of the kids let out one giant Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww in unison. Jason, who was backed into the corner from this social ostracism, was flush with humiliation. The teachers shooed the kids away and tried to get Jason cleaned up, but he fought them off ferociously. He didn’t like being touched. Not by strangers. Not by this random woman his parents left him with every day.

When one teacher tried to take his hand, he leapfrogged over her like a rabid tree dwelling creature. When another teacher stepped in, Jason bit her forearm, leaving raw teeth marks on her skin. When they ganged up on him, he shook violently like he was having an epileptic seizure… It took Jason almost an hour to get cleaned up, and by that time, school was over and it was time to go home.


Hearing this news, Brandon was aghast. My son can’t live like this. He thought. A boy shouldn’t be punished because he’s autistic. Brandon was suddenly sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that his Brandon needed more specialized care.


Brandon entered the little cave-room where Jeanette was binge-drinking. Her feet were up and she reclined her chair as far back as it would go. Her eyes were closed, perhaps because she was fighting hold down the contents of her stomach.


“Come. Drink with meeee.” she slurred.


“No, Jeanette.” Brandon said with an annoyed tone. “Do you know what happened to Jason today?”


“Oh, imsickofyourshit!” she attacked. “Th-that boy is a b-big, b-b-boy. He’ll be fineee.”


Brandon plucked the glass out of Jeanette’s hand and poured the whiskey in it onto the floor. Then he poured her bottle of whiskey on the floor. While he poured the liquor out, he kept looking Jeanette in the eye so she’d understand that he was as serious as a heart attack. Jeanette pouted in protest, and stretched her arm out longingly for her fallen liquor. When he was finished, Brandon turned toward the liquor cabinet and with an evil look in his eye, he decided that he was going to smash the whole thing. Jeanette panicked. Not her booze!


She stumbled off her recliner toward the liquor cabinet, but she slipped on the wet floor and she hopelessly tried to catch her balance. After three good attempts, Jeanette fell face-first on the floor. Brandon opened the cabinet and grabbed five bottles, then he opened a nearby window and tossed them outside. He repeated himself until there was no more alcohol in the room. Jeanette continued to watch from the floor. Feeling hopeless to stop him, Jeanette started to cry.


Brandon stooped down to get to Jeanette’s eye level. He held her by the shoulders and looked squarely in her eyes.


“You’re getting help…” he said. “And we’re getting someone to take care of Jason. I’m not going to let this get any worse.”


“Nooooooooooo.” Jeanette whimpered. “I can doo dis. Let me have a chance. I’ll sober up and take care of our son.”


As Jeanette grovelled on the floor, Brandon suddenly noticed that he had never felt less interested in his wife. He wondered if he even loved her anymore? If this were a business deal, Brandon would have been a cold hearted bastard and dropped her like a hot potato, but this was different. This was his family. He wanted to believe that Jeanette could change… and that she could be the woman he’d married in the first place. Brandon decided to grant her a second chance. It wasn’t a free chance… but it was a chance all the same.


If one more incident like this happened, Brandon determined it would be the last time he would trust his wife. This could be the end of our marriage. Brandon thought to himself. He felt sick for even having these thoughts. When he’d taken those marriage vows, he’d meant them seriously. In sickness and in health. Brandon intended to live by “til’ death do us part”, but not at the cost of his son’s health and happiness. He loved his son too much for that.


Before Jason was born, he thought instinctive parenting was just for women. But nothing could beat a father’s love for his children… Except a mother’s love. Unfortunately, Jeanette didn’t seem to be one of those mothers ingrained with a large amount of maternal instinct. Nevertheless, she was his wife.


“Get cleaned up, and take care of our son. Okay?”


He helped her up from the puddle of liquor, holding onto her tightly.


* * *


Some women like chocolate, others like gifts, both of those work quite well on Jeanette, but there was one thing above all which calmed her down most. Sex. Brandon had long learned that the best we to get Jeannette back to happy spirits would be to give her a good hard romp in the sack. All her troubles and worries melted away after an earth-shattering orgasm.  


This would be easy in a different circumstance, but Brandon found Jeanette’s antics to be increasingly unattractive. His guts were still so twisted up about Jason, that he struggled to look Jeanette in the eye and pound her pussy with a warrior’s cock at the same time.


“Fuck me!”  Jeanette whined. “Fuck me harder!”


Brandon flashed back to the years when his marriage was happy. He had no problem fucking her then. Now… Jeanette couldn’t do it for him. Being the billionaire businessman that he was, Brandon could see diminishing returns on his investment. His marriage had been bleeding red for years now. The only time Brandon ever whipped out his animal side, was times like this… When he had to. It’s not like he couldn’t a savage beast, he just hated doing it with Jeanette. He was too loyal to sleep with anyone else. Or too much of a pussy. Brandon thought to himself.


Brandon’s wealth, fame and good looks didn’t go unnoticed by women at large. He was constantly hit on by women everywhere he went. And those who didn’t hit on him simply stared him down, and undressed him with their eyes. Every so often, however, Brandon ran into a lady who was both stunningly attractive and also mercilessly flirtatious. He struggled the most with those women.


For example, last week he had an appointment with a Boeing representative. They sent over one Julianna Sundress. Yes, that was her real name, and although she wasn’t wearing a sundress, she looked like such a homespun pure Colombian princess that she might as well be wearing a sundress, too. She had the type beauty made guys want to get married after the third date. She smelled like dewdrops. Or at least, her smell made you want to stay cuddled up in bed, the way dewdrops on everything outside make you feel like it’s still too early to take things seriously.


Her hair was dark brown, long and wavy. It flowed all the way down to the small of her back, but this wasn’t obvious at first. Her hair was actually up in a bun with some soft looking flower stuck in it. This flower was the only playful hint of her at first. She was in full business attire, with glasses and a neutral lipstick. After a second cocktail (which came really fast) she pulled her hair down, and the bun was gone forever. Brandon couldn’t believe he was thinking about this while he was inside of his wife… But he couldn’t stop.


Over the course of the hour, his meeting with Julianna meeting was less and less about business, and more and more about Brandon’s famous hip flexor muscles. Julianna started touching Brandon whenever she spoke. I think your company should go in this direction. Touch. Adding a Boeing jet to your capital assets will save your bottom line in the long run. Touch. Aren’t you in the cover of Esquire? Touch. You’re so handsome. Touch.


The more Julianna touched him, the more confident she became. Her hands started to travel to more and more adventurous places. Her hands trembled slightly, and gripped more firmly. It was the grasp of someone who didn’t want to let go; someone who had way too much pleasure in grasping things. It reminded Brandon of when of a baby intuitively grasps onto an adult’s finger with their little baby hands. Julianna’s hands trembled more as she traveled up Brandon’s thigh. They kept chatting and Brandon didn’t stop her. Julianna’s hand traveled all the way up to his cock, and when it got there, Brandon’s cock was already rock hard and throbbing. It was so engorged that Julianna could feel his pulse pounding heavily through the engorged member.


Julianna was surprised. Perhaps not because of what she was doing, or even because Brandon was allowing her to do it, but because she could tell that Brandon’s cock wanted it so badly. She tuned into the sensations of her fingertips and noticed the large veins that she was touching. His cock was large enough that her petite hand couldn’t wrap around its entire girth. Her eyes were filled with wanton desire from this observation. She instantly wanted his cock in every orifice of her body. She pictured it in her mouth, then her pussy, and then her asshole… and then in all three holes all over again. Julianna’s hand rested on his cock for a few more moments. Brandon simply smiled and called the meeting to an end. There was no continuation. Brandon never violated any boundaries.


Upon leaving, he whispered “I’m married. Happily.” into her ear. Neither he nor she believed the words that came out of his mouth. Brandon was certainly lying through his teeth. His last whisper was more of a chance to savor her smell one last time, than to actually put up any pretense about his wife. Julianna was somewhat confused, and disappointed; she simply dithered into the background. Brandon could hardly tell what happened after that. She was just gone.


… Now, while he was fucking his wife, Brandon wished more than anything that he was fucking Julianna instead. Harder? He thought. She wants it harder?  Brandon started pounding Jeanette with all of his force and might. The harder he fucked Jeanette, the more he thought of Julianna, or any other woman for that matter…  he tried not to, but he couldn’t help it.


“I’m married.” He muttered to himself with The Grinch’s facial expression. “Happily.”


The smell of Jeanette’s pussy was now wafting in the air. It smelled like a desert brothel. To Brandon, it seemed like her scent was now caking over everything in the room. I think she has a yeast infection. He thought. They’re calling my son “shit boy” at school now. He thought. Why the fuck am I thinking about this right now? He thought.


Brandon’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. He couldn’t stop them. He didn’t want to. The more he thought about Jeanette, the more he wanted to think about other things. He came up with a good compromise: He fantasized about Julianna. In order to keep his focus on sweet Julianna,  Brandon had to avoid making eye contact with his wife Jeanette. Her eyes were cold and hard. They were the type of eyes that soldiers came back with after they’d killed babies in Afghanistan. Brandon switched off the light, and then he went into his dreamland. He imagined Julianna’s dew drop smell. He imagined sniffing her neck and then bite just a little bit too hard.


He saw himself sucking her soft rouge lips, and then teasing her tongue. He pictured himself grabbing a tuft of her flowing brown hair and yanked on it like a savage; even growling a little bit. Brandon would guide her head down to his monstrous cock, and Julianna would glide her hands over his chest, his nipples, his abdominals, and his famous hip flexors… all the way down to jackpot. When she would try to suck his cock, she would struggle and gag. It would be too difficult to fit the whole thing in. In his fantasy, she was soft in every way; even in her voice. She would moan and squeal just a bit. His cock would be a challenge, but she was a trooper. A soft trooper.


Brandon pulled himself out of his fantasy lightly; just barely. He noticed that in his fantasy, he didn’t come in her mouth. No… When he came close to the point of no return, he’d stick his fat cock in her pussy. Her flowery noises would be like a bluejay’s morning whistle. Her pussy clenched. She was coming, and so was he. Brandon would keep squirting inside of her until her pussy was full; until she was pregnant.


Brandon came back to reality and saw his wife’s cold black eyes again. He looked down and saw that he’d ejaculated. He couldn’t tell if she was happy about it or not. Either way, he was finished. Thank God. Now that Jeanette had been placated, Brandon pushed all of the thoughts of Julianna, his company, and everything else out of his mind. He was now refocused on the one thing that was most important to him: his son.

Jason was now fast asleep in his bed, but he’d had the worst day of his life. Brandon was now faced with a serious dilemma of what to do about it… He watched his sleeping son and said a little prayer over his sleeping body. It was silly. Brandon hadn’t prayed in years. But it was all he could do to keep from crying. He was supposed to protect his son, and he’d all but failed to do so. A prayer couldn’t hurt.

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