Bringing The Heat: BWWM Romance Novel

By Jamila Jasper

When Dirk -- a white South African bodyguard -- saves Gigi's life, she finds him pompous, arrogant and... undeniably sexy.

With the two of them stranded on an island, Gigi can't think straight about Dirk. 

The constant beach romps aren't helping a darned thing.

In between their love-making, Gigi starts to change everything she thought about happily ever after.

Before thinking about forever, they have to make their way off the island... Alive.


This BWWM novel is an ultra-sexy read so hot it might melt your device.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publisher s23991
• Release date: Aug 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9788822806024

Jamila Jasper

Jamila Jasper is a 32-year-old romance author who just moved to a small corner of New England. She's always been in love with black romantic comedies and writing interracial romance fan fiction. This love of writing has morphed into a passion for publishing BWWM novels. Jamila concocts, sweet full-length romance novels with guaranteed happily ever after endings, each one with a creative, strong female lead and an attractive, caring white man. Sign up for her e-mail list here to receive FREE stories, exclusive offers and an update of Jamila's publication schedule:  Bit.ly/jamilajasper  Hit this link to get text message updates from me: https://slkt.io/gxzM

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Copyright

Copyright April 2017 ©  Jamila Jasper Romance

All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Daddy’s Funeral

Gigi barely knew her father. She knew that he was wealthy, and that her mother had been knocked up at nineteen years old by a man a decade older than her. Her father had always been a mysterious absentee figure, but not in the traditional way. Jerome Jackson had always provided for his daughter financially.

Gigi stood next to her two half-sisters looking down at the body of the man she barely knew. Jerome Jackson — born June 11th 1958, died February 14th 2017. Dinah was the one who had found him. As she told it, he’d been sitting in his study with his hand clasped around a glass of whiskey.

Gigi stood next to the sister that she barely knew and slipped her hand in hers. Dinah was crying, but neither Gigi nor their third sister Tyra could muster up tears yet. Neither of them knew Jerome quite the way that Dinah did. Dinah was the one who had grown up with him.

The funeral would start in forty-five minutes. Strangers would fill this room and gawk at her father’s body. Most of them would probably know Jerome better than Gigi ever had. Her father, the stranger.

Even if he had been a stranger, Jerome had ensured Gigi had the best of the best. She’d attended the best private day schools in New York and then she’d been shipped off to a New England boarding school for high school. All on her father’s dime.

In her community, Gigi’s life had caused whispers. Despite her expensive education, she had grown up in a small two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. Her mother’s job as a public school teacher could never have afforded her all the luxuries she had growing up.

She’d only met and hung out with her sisters three times in the past. When Gigi was eighteen years old  — Tyra, sixteen, Dinah, fifteen — Jerome persuaded Gigi’s mother to let Gigi join him for a special summer vacation. He thought it was important for all his daughters to know each other. After much pleading, Gigi remembered her mother reluctantly allowing her to go.

She remembered being eighteen and standing in line at JFK, ready to meet her father in person for only the tenth time in her life. She remembered the image she had constructed of him from his letters alone and filled in by her active imagination. She remembered picturing her sisters in her head; she imagined they would all be perfect copies of her, the best friends she’d been searching for her whole life.

Gigi cracked a smile as she recalled that vacation. It had been far from perfect. Tyra and Dinah were nothing like her and they were used to being only children. Jerome hadn’t been the perfect father either on that vacation. Instead of spending time with them, he’d given them each a credit card and sent them off on their own. Gigi and her two sisters had an insane month in Paris together followed by a month in London. There had been laughter, shopping... and more fighting than ever.

Those were some of the best and worst memories Gigi had of Jerome. She reached out and touched his stiff hand in the coffin. Those tears finally found their way out of her eyes. Dinah squeezed her hand tightly and rested her head on Gigi’s shoulders.

I don’t know if I can do this today, Tyra whispered.

Well. We have to.

I know, Tyra replied, But I think I’ll need a drink.

Don’t drink too much, Gigi warned.

Easy for you to say, mumbled Tyra.

I think I’ll have whatever you’re having.

They walked into the other room. It felt strange having the funeral out of Jerome’s house, but that was what he requested. Viewing and funeral in the foyer downstairs and then he’d be cremated later that week. Each of his daughters would get 1/3 of his ashes and 1/3 of his assets.

He might have been more absent than not, but he’d always provided financially, even in death.

Dinah had hired an event co-ordinator to manage the entire affair. They approached Jerome’s bar and each ordered a drink. Tyra ordered a stiff whiskey on the rocks (Jim Beam, just like her father drank). Dinah ordered a glass of white wine. Gigi ordered cranberry juice with a splash of vodka in it. She wanted presence of mind throughout this entire affair. She wanted to remember — even if remembering would hurt like hell.

She felt sad that Jerome had died but not from missing him. Heck, she’d grown used to missing him her own life. What really gnawed at Gigi’s heart was all the time she didn’t get to spend with her father. She realized all the things she didn’t know about him. She knew that he’d made millions of dollars in investment banking and investing in technology. She knew that he was a renowned womanizer who hadn’t just dated their mothers but a number of celebrities.

But Gigi didn’t know how he liked his coffee. She didn’t know what her father liked to do in his down time. All she knew was that he’d worked, provided and then died. His personality would always be a mystery to her. His death was so painfully final. She downed as much of her drink as she could manage, her racing mind causing her to rethink her abstinence from alcohol.

What happens next Dinah? Tyra asked.

Dinah morosely took a sip of her wine before answering. By some cruel fate, the youngest of them had been completely responsible for putting all of this together. She was the only one of them who really knew Jerome. She’d grown up in this very mansion and ultimately, she’d been the one to find her father’s body. It was like Dinah was suffering just for being the only one of Jerome’s children he’d paid any mind.

I meet with the estate lawyer and the accountant. You guys don’t have to stay here. Once you send me your banking information and addresses, I should be able to sort it all out.

Jesus, Tyra mumbled.

It’s a lot of money, Gigi confirmed.

Dinah smiled, I guess it is. I’m just so used to all this, you know?​

Tyra nodded, Lucky you. I grew up in East L.A. Daddy provided for me but mama would have never let any of this get to my head.​

Dinah furrowed her brow a bit.

Don’t mean any offense.

None taken. It’s just… Sometimes I wonder how daddy could have left y’all across the country. Why me?

Gigi shrugged, My mama had me at nineteen. It was a long time ago. Maybe with you he just wanted things to be different.​

I guess. But it still bothers me. Doesn’t it bother you? That we didn’t grow up together?

Tyra and Gigi exchanged glances. Yes, it did bother them. Of course it did. Their father was internationally renowned and incredibly wealthy but for a reason neither of them knew, he’d only picked the youngest of them to take care of properly. To them, Jerome was a concept. Dinah was the only one of her sisters who had grown up with a real father. It would have been bizarre for them to remain unaffected.

I guess it bothers me, Tyra mumbled.

Well, we have a chance to get to know each other now, Gigi offered.

Dinah sighed, But how? After this… you’ll head east and Tyra’s going to head west.

And then you’ll be the baddest bitch left in Costa Rica, Tyra grinned.

The three of them laughed. It was the first time that the three of them had shared a proper laugh since they’d arrived at Jerome Jackson’s tropical mansion. This was the country that Dinah had grown up in while Gigi was away at boarding school and while Tyra had attended a private day school in California.

Well, since we only have a few minutes, why don’t we just have another drink, Dinah said.

They were starting to realize that like it or not, they would have an emotionally exhausting day. They ordered second rounds of their drinks as time ticked towards the start of the funeral service.

Do you remember Paris? Gigi asked.

Dinah cracked a smile.

Yes, I remember Paris. It was insane… The drinks, the shopping…​

The fighting… Tyra finished.

What did we even fight over?

Everything, Gigi smiled.

It all seems so silly and so far away, Tyra replied.

Dinah nodded, Daddy barely even spent any time with us that vacation. We had no clue about anything but we ran around the streets of Paris like little African princesses.

Gigi had never really thought of herself as African, but Dinah wasn’t wrong. Their father, Jerome Jackson was an African immigrant who changed his name when he was eighteen years old to the alliterative, Americanized name Jerome Jackson.

In fact, Gigi had no clue who her father had been before he’d changed his name. Growing up in Brooklyn, she was utterly cut off from her Nigerian heritage. She never even thought about it. As far as she was concerned she was just a regular African American girl. Tyra felt the same way.

Have you been to Nigeria? Tyra asked Dinah, letting Gigi know that they were probably thinking the same thing.

Dinah pushed the hair from her wig out of her face and she nodded.

Yeah. I went last year to daddy’s mansion in Maitama. It’s beautiful out there.​

I can’t believe I’ve never gone.

Dinah shrugged, Maybe we should go there some time. After the funeral.

If I can get time off work, Tyra answered.

Gigi wondered if Tyra was serious. They would each be inheriting something to the tune of $10 million dollars. They would co-own his mansion in Costa Rica, his apartment complex in Chicago and the mansion in Maitama. Their father’s assets were global. For the rest of their lives they could sit back and do nothing. Gigi had only just figured out just how extensive her father’s wealth was and she didn’t know if she planned to work at all considering what she would inherit.

She’d struggled in her adulthood since graduating from college and she didn’t feel ashamed about putting an end to that struggle, whether or not she earned the money to do it. Apparently, Tyra was different.

They sat back and they reminisced about Paris. They reminisced about the boy that Gigi had fallen for in France — a black twenty year old Parisian named Christophe. They reminisced about the time Dinah drank so much they had to sneak her into the apartment through the back entrance. They reminisced about how Tyra had almost had them kicked out of a nightclub because she tried to fight some girl on Dinah’s behalf.

As they reminisced, they did everything to try to forget the fact that their father’s body was dressed up in a custom Italian designer suit only a few feet away. They tried to forget the fact that this might be the last time they all saw each other. They tried to forget about all their anxieties about growing older, about love, happiness and the lot of it.

Are any of you married? Dinah asked.

Gigi and Tyra both shook their heads.

Nope.

Nah.

Do you ever want to be? Dinah asked.

Tyra shrugged and Gigi nodded.

​

I do. But I’ll need to meet the right guy. Maybe I’m getting two old though.

Nonsense! Tyra said, There’s no such thing as two old.

Well, I don’t think I want to get married. I watched daddy go through three wives in my childhood. None of them could have kids and none of them lasted very long.

They were silent again. Even if they tried, they couldn’t help but think of Jerome. The good, the bad, the ugly — they were forced to confront all of it now in his death.

I never knew he was married.

After I turned eighteen, Dinah said, But I still lived here after college and during vacations. So I got to see a lot of it. I wonder if any of them ever really loved him.​

Are any of them coming today? Gigi asked.

Dinah shook her head, They all made excuses when I called.

They were silent again as they were forced to confront another unpleasant truth. Jerome had a string of women on his arm but his actions had also made him many enemies throughout his life.

They talked until guests started to pull into the driveway. Black cars manned by mestizo Costa Ricans pulled up and then all manner of Americans descended upon the Jackson mansion for Jerome’s funeral.

Gigi, Tyra and Dinah waited by the door, playing the part of perfect sisters and going through the exhausting process of greeting every single person who had come to say goodbye to their less than perfect father.

The house was filled with upwards of 100 guests who all fit into the viewing room. The priest arrived somewhere in the middle of the pack and Dinah pulled him aside to discuss the proceedings. Gigi took in the room before making her way to the reserved seats in the front.

The room smelled like new leather and designer perfumes. Gigi had never been surrounded by such wealth in her life. She never understood what Dinah’s life had been like until now. They were tucked away in the jungle in what was possibly the biggest home in the small Central American country.

The start time of the funeral drew near. Tyra joined Gigi in the front and their eyes drew to Dinah as they waited for her to join them. The priest stood in the front of the room waiting to officiate and Dinah stood off to the side talking to a short, gently tanned latino man. When Dinah finished speaking to him, she joined the duo.

Who was that? Gigi whispered to her.

Luciano.

Who?​

Dinah whispered, A friend of my father’s. He helped me get everything together today before you guys arrived.​

Oh. I see.

Before Gigi could ask any more questions, the funeral service started. The priest began to speak about her father’s life. Gigi started to learn things that she’d never known about Jerome, including the fact that he was a practicing Catholic and took holy communion in his home on a weekly basis — a special privilege. She learned that Dinah had grown up knowing the church well.

When it came time for Jerome’s eulogy, Luciano was the one who stepped up to the podium to speak. Gigi drew her eyes to him, hopeful that she could gain some final lasting insight into the man her father was.

Luciano spoke with a thick Spanish accent, but he eulogized Jerome well. He spoke about their memories together in Costa Rica and all the times that Jerome bailed him out of trouble. He spoke to the heroic image of her father that Gigi had always carried with her (whether intentionally or not). She got an image of her father as a Nigerian man that loved laughter,