Dark Billionaire Romance For WMBW Romance Fans | Purchased For Pleasure (BWWM Billionaire Romance)
Caption: An iPad with a copy of Jamila Jasper’s billionaire romance Purchased For Pleasure sits on a table next to a cup of tea sitting on a saucer with two cookies next to it. A black woman’s hands grasp the tea cup and stir sugar into the cup.
You can pre-order Purchased For Pleasure now! Click here to order. This is a sizzling hot story for all the cold months ahead…
If you enjoy a dark billionaire romance featuring an attractive white male with aquamarine eyes and a thick, full-figured black female lead, you’ll enjoy this BWWM romance story with a happily ever after ending.
This book has scenes that will make your heart throb and you’ll probably need to buy a brand new massage wand wink wink to cope with the heat between the thighs from this book.
Seriously… the story is out of control hot and perfect if you’ve been a thirsty lady this cuffing season.
Check out Chapter 1 here. Don’t hesitate to click here and one click order ASAP.
Romance Novel Excerpts | Purchased For Pleasure
Alice was twenty years old with little dating experience. She’d worked her ass off through high school, sometimes taking jobs that were less than legal to pay her way through college. Alice was an African American beauty whose booty didn’t go unappreciated by the men in her neighborhood. She had an hourglass figure with plump breasts and buttocks that attracted unwanted attention to a large degree.
Alice hated feeling like she was constantly on display. Men gave her attention, but she never returned it. They didn’t know how to treat her. To them, she was just a pair of ass and tits. Alice hadn’t ever dreamed of becoming someone’s baby mama. She wanted more for herself than that, despite her past — the past of poverty that she never spoke about in her college setting.
Alice had ignored the advances of the men in her community her whole life. She’d made it to twenty years old, giving none of them the time of day. Alice felt lucky. She’d kept herself pure, and she wasn’t like some of her other friends who got knocked up the second they left high school. Alice knew love stories didn’t really happen for women like her, but she maintained her hope that just around the corner she’d meet the man of her dreams.
Unfortunately, he seemed to be just out of reach. Even when Alice tried to date, all the men were just looking for some fast action. They assumed that Alice’s alluring figure meant that she “put out”. Alice was just about ready to give up on dating altogether based on her last experience - her date had pinned her down in the back of his car and tried to force himself on her. No more men like that. Never.
Now that she was at university, and about to enter her last year, she found that she was not only tight on cash but thousands of dollars in debt. She couldn’t ask anyone in her family for money. Unlike some of her white peers, Alice didn’t have a safety net. She didn’t know how things had spiraled out of control, but now they’d threatened her with eviction, starvation or worse.
Alice wished she could turn to her mother, but there was no point trying to interact with Elise when she was using. That had been one of Elise’s biggest vices that Alice had been paying for since the day she was born. Elise had Alice at seventeen with a retired pimp twenty-five years her senior. Alice hated feeling like a stereotype or the product of a twisted situation. She knew it was technically wrong to feel ashamed of her mother and her circumstances, but she couldn’t help it. Few people in Alice’s life knew exactly what she was dealing with back home and what she was so desperate to avoid.
Alice had never known her father, but she knew what he looked like from old pictures. He’d never been around much; Elise said that he had no interest in claiming Alice as his own. Alice believed her. The absence of a father in her life had always hurt her. That was one reason she’d vowed to save herself for the right man.
Alice didn’t want to end up like Elise. Her mother had many boyfriends throughout Alice’s life, but when Alice was still in her teens, most of them became more interested in her than in her addict mother. None of them counted as a father figure. Not the ones that would do something nice for her only to try their hardest to get into her pants while she was underage.
Alice hated them. Sometimes, she thought she hated her mother too. The world didn’t have to be so cold. Other girls in her school had mothers and fathers. And they made fun of her. She hated that. She loathed being the one who they called a stereotype. How did it make sense as a stereotype when she was the only one in her class without a dad?
She wasn’t angry about it. The past disappeared… and it was the past. But she wanted more. She always had.
The memories of her past hadn’t chilled Alice to the world. Some people succumb to pain and let it ruin them. Alice used her pain as motivation to work even harder. But even with her scholarship, she was still on the verge of bankruptcy and losing everything she’d worked for. Alice’s goal after college was to meet a nice, well-mannered guy, get a job working for a bank with her degree in finance and then have the perfect life. Her past didn’t have to ruin everything for her.
Alice hated feeling so defined by her tragic backstory, but she knew on some level that her experience motivated every single one of her actions.
Despite this hardship, Alice had made it out of her neighborhood and she had no intention of going back. She couldn’t face the same chicks who made fun of her, or the guys who mocked her skin color, her hair and the fact that she never had designer clothes.
“Everybody knows her mama smokes crack!” one boy shouted during Alice’s last presentation senior year.
She didn’t want to carry the humiliation back on the old blocks. Even if it would have been nice to get a Jamaican patty from the corner store and one of those small sugary drinks. Alice had one mission: pay off this debt and get herself some cash fast.
She had a good part-time job, but her income was not enough to cover her expenses. Things were spiraling and with no one to turn to, Alice considered a permanent way out. She wasn’t depressed. And she hated the thought of… giving up. But there wasn’t any money. She had no one to ask. She had no one to turn to. No parents. Barely any friends. Shit.
“I’m such a fucking loser,” Alice muttered to herself.
She didn’t want to be a loser. She wanted to… breathe. Money solved more problems than it created. She didn’t believe more money meant more problems. Rich people made that line up to trick poor people into thinking they were better off. Ha! Alice would kill to relax in some ski chalet or to have $100 to spend on herself.
To add to her stress, her mother expected her to send cash home, not understanding that college was more of a financial burden than a source of income. Alice’s little brother Jevon, who was only five. Her aunty in the suburbs — who never returned Alice’s calls — adopted him. The adoption process had been brutal. Alice couldn’t stand knowing she’d failed her brother. And that her aunt thought she was just another deadbeat like her mom.
“Can’t you see, I’m trying my hardest! I’m just so fucking POOR!” Alice screamed into the phone.
But her aunt hung up. And Alice was alone again. She didn’t have time for boyfriends. Not like boyfriends wanted to be with what one guy called a “broke ass bitch”. Seriously… Did he have to drag her ass like that?
Alice longed to make enough money to bring her brother back, to get her mother the help she needed and to reunite their strange and broken family. It would never happen. Not with Wells Fargo about to slap her on the ass with a $15 overdraft fee. Why the fuck do I have to pay to be broke? Alice wondered.
Alice wanted Jevon back more than her mother did. Her mother barely wanted to get better. Alice couldn’t negotiate with her when she was using. She couldn’t get Elise to see that she was tearing her family apart. All she did was demand Alice send her money, call her a worthless skank and scream about her dealer. Once, she tried to convince Alice to sleep with her dealer for drugs.
Desperate. That was the best word to describe her. So. Fucking. Desperate. Throughout college, she was friends with plenty of girls who were stripping to put their way through school. These girls had done what Alice never could. They spent their evenings and weekends at seedy strip clubs, making thousands of dollars a night. All of it was in cash too, so they could keep their earnings well under the radar. Alice wasn’t sure if she really envied them, but she envied their ability to go through college carefree. Old guys bought them fancy handbags and high heels and jewelry. Alice didn’t own any jewelry. She barely owned a ceramic bowl to cook her ramen noodles in.
Maybe I should change my name to Poverty McBrokeAssBitch, Alice thought to herself.
No matter how she hustled, money wouldn’t stay in her account.
Many of the chicks she knew had Mercedes Benz cars, and nearly all of them wore designer clothes and had designer boob jobs or ass jobs. Once you got your ass done, you didn’t have to work a day in your life. Men would give you money just for having a big fat ass. Alice wanted to scream. Her natural homegrown booty was cute enough, but she couldn’t compare with silicon butts. There were the girls who made money from their tits and those who relied on their ass. But each one was financially stable. When you worked in that world, men gave you everything. But “natural” went out of style years ago.
Natural hadn’t been in style since the 80s. Alice hated the jackass who gave men the idea that women needed to have boob jobs and ass jobs to please them. Men with small dicks weren’t out here turning their wieners into ten-inch monster schlongs just to make women happy. Fuck ‘em.
Those women never wanted for anything, and most of them had steady boyfriends too. Men didn’t seem to mind that they spent their weekends exposing their breasts and butts at clubs. Even if she was hesitant to enter that world, Alice was desperate for money and there was one friend from that world she could reach out to. Goldie was one of Alice’s closest friends, and she was one of the best paid strippers in her club. Alice never asked her too many questions, but she had a feeling that Goldie was netting close to six figures. Perhaps Goldie could help her?
Goldie made fun of Alice too because she had “no ass” and didn’t strip. Goldie called her poor sometimes, but at least she bought dinner once in a while.
As the deadline to pay her tuition bill drew closer and closer, Alice felt desperate. This could be her ticket out. She wouldn’t enjoy shaking her ass in a club and having random men place dollar bills in her underwear, but she also wouldn’t enjoy going down the same dead-end path that her mother had. First it was bankruptcy, then it was dropping out of school… Alice didn’t want to let her imagination take her too far. The preview was grim enough.
Alice called Goldie.
“Can we talk? I need to make money. Fast.”
Goldie laughed.
“Sell ass, girl!”
Alice cringed. She didn’t want to “sell ass”. She wanted money. She didn’t want to sell out. Goldie agreed to meet at the school’s burrito bar. Goldie arrived overdressed as usual. Goldie’s image was everything to her, and she always had her eye on the next trend in plastic surgery. She was five foot eight and had massive ass augmentations. Despite this, her butt still looked real and natural.
Goldie had caramel skin and long black weave that hit in the middle of her back. She wore tight skinny light wash jeans, with the whale's tail of her black thong revealed. Goldie wore a see through white crop top with a cheetah print bra underneath. She contoured her face to perfection with massive fake eyelashes and overdrawn lips. Goldie didn’t look like a natural beauty, but men didn’t seem to care. They loved her looks.
Goldie paid for their burritos and the two sat at a corner table.
Goldie began talking, “So what do you want to know about stripping. I know that’s why your ass called me mid day instead of your usual ‘Let’s go take shots!’ that you text every Thursday.”
Alice blushed a bit, not expecting her ploy to be so transparent.
“I’m kind of strapped for cash I guess and I was wondering if I--” Alice started.
“Well, honey, no offense, but stripping is not for you. There are other ways you can make money without having to go through all the shit I put myself through,” Goldie said.
Alice was silent, listening intently to the girl’s advice.
“So, you’ve probably guessed that most of us don’t make all our money from stripping,” Goldie chuckled.
She was wrong; Alice hadn’t guessed at all. She tried not to get too many details from Goldie’s sordid life.
“I didn’t know,” Alice muttered.
Goldie laughed in disbelief. “Girl, do you see the shit that we buy? It’s expensive!”
Goldie launched into an explanation. She explained that many of the girls had sex for money. She’d only done it once, but she’d made an easy $3,000 for just one night. Alice was shocked, and she was getting uneasy. This wasn’t the work she was looking for. Goldie explained that she had an online profile where she made money doing various naughty activities on camera. Alice squirmed in her seat as she listened to her. She wasn’t sure that she was quite that desperate for cash. Not yet, at least. She also explained that she had a profile where she would go out on dates with guys for a lot of money. Goldie went on dates with high-class clients who didn’t want other rich men to see them with ugly women.
Often they bought her gifts — one of these gifts was Goldie’s impressive ass augmentation. Goldie also mentioned that she’d had work done on her tummy and gotten free boob jobs for two of her friends. The guys were mostly nice, but some of them were real creeps. Alice tried to listen. When would this get to the part where she could do something for herself?
“But I think you could benefit from something else,” Goldie said after she’d explained a variety of techniques.
“What would that be?”
She was a little titillated by what she’d heard, a little scared but keen to learn more.
“Sweetheart, you’re still a virgin, right?” Goldie asked her.
“Yes, I am,” Alice said, a little embarrassed.
“Oh, thank God. I have the perfect idea for you,” Goldie said.
Goldie launched into another explanation. It was a website where girls could sell their virginity to older, wealthy men who had a penchant for youthful flesh. Well, one of these websites. This website sought specific black girls willing to risk impregnation by having the buyers take their virginity. A lot of white men had this fantasy and would pay big bucks to have it fulfilled.
The arrangement was this: you put up a profile, they matched you with a buyer who took an interest in you. You could look at what he was offering and his net-worth, both of which the website vetted. Then, he could pay you for a date and see where things went from there. Often, the dates are at their homes, so Goldie promised that she would be the check-in person for Alice if she took her up on it.
“I’ll help you make your profile. They love innocent looking girls like you,” Goldie said and then she laughed, “Girls like me look a bit too... used up to these guys.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Goldie.”
“You can! Listen… If you’re worried about a husband, you can always lie. Tell him you’re still a virgin. Guys love that shit. If you’re in a tough spot, I promise this will end all your problems. One night with a rich ass dude. You can slip a quaalude into his drink and rob his ass if he gets creepy.”
Alice shifted uneasily. This wasn’t who she was. She studied. She did odd jobs like babysitting and chauffeuring kids to soccer practice. Not sex. She didn’t sell sex. She didn’t look the part. She didn’t dress or act like Goldie.
“But it’s sex with a stranger! I’m just not that kind of person,” Alice urged, trying to get Goldie to see her perspective.
Goldie kissed her teeth, “Listen, Alice… Life works against us. We grew up poor. Even in college, it’s just bills and more bills. I don’t know what demons you got, but if they’re anything like mine, you need to do whatever it takes to get ahead. Don’t let the demons win because you’re too much of a prude to do what you have to do. You don’t get a prize for saving your virginity.”
“How did you lose yours?” Alice asked.
“Stepdad. He got me a Sidekick so I wouldn’t tell my mama.”
Alice grimaced.
Sex for money? Is that what she had to do? Alice pushed back tears. I’m not weak, she thought to herself. It’s one night. And who cares? It’s not like I’m saving my virginity for any special guy. Guys don’t want to date a broke bitch. Not normal guys.
Alice pursed her lips. Goldie had a point sometimes, as much as she resented it. Still, Alice didn’t know if this was the thing she could do easily. She was humoring Goldie now — there was no stopping her once she put her mind to something — but Goldie didn’t exactly convince her that going through something like this could be worth the money.
Could you really put a price on self-worth?
* * *
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