Love Spelled Sideways

By Jacqueline Brown

Foreplay
Busy African American executive Jesmond LaVilliard, while in the park, accidentally collides with a kind, tall, handsome white stranger who offers to have her damaged camera repaired at his expense. She is initially unimpressed by his celebrity, but her friends are not and have questions as to how they met. Yet despite her seeming disinterest, his stunning good looks and charming manner are continually running through her head. Her camera is a total loss but not the young mans growing interest in Jesmond. Later that week, Jesmond receives a special package in her office. What are this stunning bachelor billionaires intentions toward the beautiful executive?

Coitus
No one wants to work with the handsome, arrogant, bullying white executive senior VP Kevin Daly, who screams at and demeans his staff on a regular basis. The increase in requests for transfer from his department has the top executives at Bannon Communications making a serious decision regarding Kevin Dalys future with the company. Enter Dr. Loren Clarke, African American female organizational communicator. Kevin Daly continually ignores her meetings and suggestions and refuses her help. Yet could there be a hidden humanity there? Then something serious and surprising occurs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543419993

Jacqueline Brown

Jacqueline A. Brown is a native New Yorker living in Harlem, former news writer and college professor. She is a screenwriter and filmmaker currently holding five college degrees including film school. Her previously published works discussed the topic of racism in media. Jacqueline has been invited as a guest speaker to various conferences, both national and international, to present her research papers on the aspects of racism in television and films and how interracial relationships are portrayed in the visual media. Love Spelled Sideways is her first collection of erotic BWWM romance novels. She enjoys writing about strong, well-educated corporate African American females as her main characters. When she is not writing novels or screenplays, Jacqueline is shooting films or photography in the city. She has been an avid reader since age three and received her first real camera at age seven. Jacqueline hopes to begin shooting another film in the near future before continuing with her next collection of erotic BWWM novels.

Book preview

Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline Brown.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2017906829

ISBN:                   Hardcover                       978-1-5434-2001-2

                            Softcover                         978-1-5434-2000-5

                            eBook                              978-1-5434-1999-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 04/28/2017

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

757433

CONTENTS

FOREPLAY

COITUS

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY FOR NOVEL

BLURB FOR EROTIC NOVEL LOVE SPELLED SIDEWAYS

THIS NOVEL EXPRESSES ADULT

THEMES AND EXPLICIT SEXUAL

SITUATIONS.

IT SHOULD NOT BE VIEWED BY

ANYONE UNDER EIGHTEEN YEARS

OF AGE.

THANK YOU FOR MY IMAGINATION

AND CREATIVITY.

A hard man is good to find. ©

—Jacqueline A. Brown

LOVE SPELLED SIDEWAYS

L—LUST

O—ORGASM

V—VELVET/VENUS

E—EROTIC

THANK YOU TO K. S., D. D., W. L., J. O., D. A., and C. M.

THANK YOU, GUYS, FOR YOUR HANDSOMENESS, SEXINESS, AND INSPIRATION.

LOVE AND KISSES,

JACQUELINE A. BROWN

FOREPLAY

A complete and standalone erotic BWWM romance novel by Jacqueline A. Brown

FOREPLAY

A BWWM NOVEL BY JACQUELINE A. BROWN

Holy shit, miss! Are you all right? Strong arms were suddenly helping Jesmond LaVilliard to her feet from her prone position between the sidewalk and park grassy area. A small curious crowd had gathered in the tiny area along the New York City street, the people murmuring and whispering, speculating the circumstances they were now observing.

Jesmond stood up shakily with the help of an unknown stranger, still without a clear face. It happened so quickly, Jesmond thought—one moment snapping photos along the edge of the jogging path, and the next moment a hard thump to her back and lying facedown on the street while being more embarrassed than hurt.

Are you OK? the male voice asked again. Do you need a doctor? He continued to help her to her feet, his hands gentle yet firm on her shoulders and elbows, his face still partially hidden by his dark-blue hoodie.

No. Thank you kindly, Jesmond replied in a whispery voice while brushing grass and sand from her jogging pants and jacket. She still did not look directly at the helpful stranger but kept her eyes averted from direct contact with his for some unknown reason. Despite his helpfulness and his kind voice, Jesmond was apprehensive and anxious to move away from the current situation that was demanding too much attention from this unknown person and curious onlookers.

Jesmond bent down to retrieve and inspect her now damaged expensive but older camera, which she held in her dusty brown hands. She ran a hand across the damp medium-brown skin of her forehead as she scrutinized her camera for signs of severe damage.

The crowd was now dispersing, moving along to their respective business, assured that there were no serious injuries or further interesting circumstances.

A fine line crack appeared on the body and the lens of Jesmond’s camera body and across the delicate lens buttons. Jesmond ran her still dusty fingers along the damages as if to restore the camera to its original state and rewind the events of three minutes ago.

I’m really sorry, miss. The young man was still there. He had removed the hood from hiding his face, and Jesmond could see he was white, about thirty-two years old, with medium-brown hair and concerned hazel brown eyes, which were now sparkling clearly in the sunlight. He stood at least a foot taller than Jesmond, who stepped slightly to the left to keep the bright sunlight out of her own eyes and to focus more clearly on his face.

He smiled slightly as he spoke. I’m glad you are OK, miss, he assured her while running his hand through his thick hair, tousling it even more. He gazed at the damaged camera his light-brown eyes now shadowed with, concerned with the condition of the damaged property now that Jesmond appeared to be OK.

You need to let me get that repaired for you, he offered, his gaze moving to watch her reaction to his words.

Jesmond’s eyes opened wide in surprise at the suggestion from a complete stranger. She clutched at her favorite piece of photography equipment as he spoke as if not believing his generous offer.

That’s not necessary, she replied quickly. You have already been very kind. Jesmond shouldered the broken camera by its thick strap and backed up a step, pulling her gaze from his steady look.

Of course, it is necessary, the young man insisted, his smile tugging slightly at the corners of his mouth to show a ghost of a dimple in his slightly tanned cheek. The smile also brought attention to a whisper of a five o’clock shadow on his upper lip and a hint of straight white teeth.

Well, if you change your mind, he began. I did crash into you if you recall. The smile now turned mischievous. He reached into the pocket of his zippered hoodie to produce a business card and pen. He wrote quickly on the back of the card and handed it to Jesmond.

Take your camera to this place for a repair. Tell William, Cole sent you.

Jesmond retrieved the card from the young man without glancing at it and secured it in a jacket pocket. He extended his hand, and Jesmond grasped it now without reservation. His hand was large and strong, manicured pale fingers that contrasted with her brown skin. He was watching her face, still smiling mischievously, his eyes locked on hers, causing Jesmond to blush slightly. She cleared her throat and shifted a little on her feet.

Cole, he suddenly said again. And you are Miss . . . ?

For the first time since the incident, Jesmond smiled slightly, her attention now refocused on the young man and not her nearly destroyed property.

Jesmond, she replied, simply trying not to stare too hard into his amber eyes, which now twinkled with a faint light.

Cole nodded. Jesmond, he repeated. Beautiful.

Use the card, Jesmond, Cole said as he turned and called over his shoulder to resume an easy jog in place and then back onto the path in the park. He flipped his hood back over his head and disappeared quickly down the slightly crowded path, his stride rhythmic and precise.

Jesmond turned in the opposite direction and walked along the sidewalk, her back to the setting sun. She trussed more dirt from her jogging pants and jacket as she moved slowly toward the bus stop. This was an adventure, she thought—something to write about.

Jesmond Asha LaVilliard was at her best early in the morning, much to the annoyance of her ex-husband. He always groaned at her cheerfulness and her active noisiness as she prepared for work every morning. The only other sounds she currently heard that morning on the executive office floor of Loveday Publishing and LaLa Books were the voices of security and maintenance echoing against the pale painted office walls.

Jesmond switched on the devices in her huge office, including the large-screen TV and new desktop computer. Actually, she preferred the TV and its information that could follow her all over her office rather than having her sit down to stare at the smaller screen.

Loveday Publishers was Jesmond’s company built from the cash from her first best-selling erotic, explicit novel some five years ago. The events were meteoric, to coin a cliché, with the novel barely published before the accompanying movie deal materialized. Jesmond operated on a tiny budget, initially opting to produce the film adaptation herself to avoid restrictive film ratings and the possible loss of creative control. As a young African American female, Jesmond herself became a sensation with the now constant travel, interviews, and grateful outpourings regarding the establishment of Loveday Publishers and LaLa Books, which specialized in erotic, explicit romance fiction. She was now a CEO, a thought that never really crossed her mind while growing up in an apartment in Harlem, New York.

Jesmond suddenly smelled fresh coffee now emanating from a location down the hall. Cerissa Sargent, from reception, was in the greeting area preparing the morning routine activities. Cerissa always moved quickly even on her heeled pumps, which she always wore to supplement her diminutive height. She was basically quiet except when annoyed, then was unleashed her East Harlem temperament. She was, as usual, coiffed and expertly made up much like Jesmond, insisting upon a professional appearance instead of business casual, which she described as Bullshit! Dress like you have a job! Jesmond did not allow her staff to serve and wait on her personally and enjoyed walking to the front of the department at reception to retrieve her own coffee, water, or sodas. She was thinking seriously about just buying an office refrigerator for herself to take care of the issue. Some of the VPs and department heads had suggested hiring office assistants and inviting interns from the colleges. Jesmond said she would take it into consideration. That would definitely be a tremendous help and relieve some of the staff from routine tasks.

Jesmond’s high-heeled shoe accidentally kicked the shopping bag under her desk—the bag containing the damaged camera from the events in the park of last Friday. Jesmond planned on taking the camera to the recommended place after work. That Friday night when everything happened, she just threw the business card and the camera into the high-end shopping bag without even giving anything a second look. Jesmond admitted to herself that it hurt her feelings to further examine the damage to her favorite camera, so she let it rest in the confines of the shopping bag, away from her disappointed eyes for a few days.

Nia Ellis, the take no prisoners African American office manager and Jesmond’s friend of seven years, was suddenly striding confidently into Jesmond’s office. Nia was the only one Jesmond had shared with regarding the stranger and the camera. Jesmond knew Nia would be full of questions, but she refused to answer anything over the phone. This was the reason for the urgent meeting on Nia’s part. Nia sat comfortably in one of Jesmond’s office chairs while quickly switching off her phone. She crossed her long, thin legs in the dress pants she wore and unbuttoned the suit jacket. Nia was tall with brown skin and large brown eyes. While Cerissa’s trademark was her height, or lack thereof, Nia’s trademark was her long braids hanging down her back in a thick plaited tapestry. Like Cerissa, she had little patience regarding some topics, and this was one of them as she watched Jesmond carefully. She flicked a long braid from her face to have the heavy thick plait rest on her shoulder. She watched Jesmond closely for a reaction to her visit.

If anyone is looking for me, I’m in a meeting, she announced playfully to Jesmond.

Jesmond was certain as to why Nia was sitting in front of her, waiting expectantly, and she pretended to be unaware, leaving the curious opening questions up to Nia.

So where’s the card? Nia jokingly demanded. If you don’t give a shit who your rescuer is, I certainly do! Nia shook her head at the unconcerned Jesmond, who was busily checking her appointments with her binder and the new desktop computer, which, for the most part, Jesmond ignored since receiving it in office upgrades.

Jesmond pointed under her desk, and an eager Nia pulled the shopping bag into the open to place it on the small table next to Jesmond’s huge executive desk. Nia immediately located the small business card inside and read the name quickly.

Holy fucking shit! Nia exclaimed. I’ll be damned!

Good news? Jesmond inquired nonchalantly without looking up.

Holy shit! Nia repeated, her dark-brown eyes widening and glued to the neat, expensive-looking white business card in her now nervous hand. Nia pulled at an intricate braid of her hair, extending it to a length just under her chin. Jesmond startled and stared at Nia’s face, watching her cautiously as Nia seemed to pale and then return to her brown skin color.

Nia! Jesmond exclaimed impatiently. Stop cursing and say something coherent! What the hell is it?

Nia held the business card close to Jesmond’s face while reading the name slowly and deliberately through her suddenly dry lips.

Coulson Caine Dalton Stanton, Nia squeaked, her lips barely moving as she recited the name.

Jesmond’s mind churned for a second before she replied nonchalantly.

The billionaire, she admitted casually, almost mockingly. I know the name. Philanthropist, media mogul, humanitarian, and a most eligible billionaire bachelor according to the gossip and social media.

And your new friend, Nia added, smiling slyly. She waved the card wildly in front of Jesmond’s still unimpressed face. This is whom you ran into a few days ago.

OK, Jesmond said matter-of-factly. He was very kind and helpful, whoever he was, and I am going to take the camera to be repaired this afternoon. I will mention the name Cole when I get there. Jesmond pretended to roll her eyes at Nia’s annoyance with her nonchalance.

Nia gasped at Jesmond’s cavalier attitude regarding such an important chance meeting and then suddenly narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

Are you deliberately fucking with me, Jesmond LaVilliard? Because if you are—boss or no boss—!

I know, Jesmond admitted coolly. She looked directly at the other woman as she spoke. If I murder you in front of witnesses with a signed confession and videotape, no jury will convict me. She quoted Nia’s favorite threat word for word.

Nia playfully pulled the seated Jesmond away from her desk to pound deliberately on the keyboard of her desktop computer. An image came up of a young man that made Nia gasp and sigh.

Is that your friend? Nia asked, pointing to an image of a young white man dressed in a designer suit as he addressed a group of people in a meeting. He appeared to be very tall, his hair a medium to light brown, and his eyes close to hazel in color. When he did smile on a photo, the smile was mischievous as if one corner of his mouth made the decision first rather than both corners at the same time. The dimples in his cheeks were now pronounced and inviting.

Jesmond resigned herself to focusing attention on the image on the screen. She shrugged, leaning over Nia’s shoulder.

Well, he was not dressed like that, she observed. But, yes, that is him. Jesmond closely watched Nia’s expression at her words, trying not to giggle at Nia’s current pissed-off reaction.

Wow, Jesmond LaVilliard, Nia scolded. You really are something!

I never really paid that much attention to the man, Jesmond defended, still watching her friend closely.

Shit! Nia admitted. If I accidentally ran into the likes of Coulson Caine Dalton Stanton on the street, I would get up from the ground pregnant with twins! Nia exclaimed, proudly smiling widely while closing the images on the screen.

Do I detect a slight crush, Ms. Ellis? Jesmond teased.

No crush. The blue hots! Nia laughed.

Blue hots? Jesmond mused. That is serious!

The next day, the strange and funny meeting with Nia Ellis was long gone from Jesmond’s immediate concern, and the busyness in the hallways had escalated to a comfortable hum that Jesmond enjoyed. She tried to keep her mind focused on the many tasks before her regarding running a business and not allowing the invading thoughts of Coulson Stanton to distract her.

The two images of him mused in her brain, both pictures sexy and appealing with guilt easing over her like a misty rain. He was kind and responsible and did not seem to care if people saw that part of him, yet Jesmond was cautious regarding her feelings. This was hardly the time for anything emotional, but his handsome face, though partially covered by his hood or open and smiling in the computer photo, emanated perfect and symmetrical features that Jesmond found compelling—unfortunately. Jesmond sighed. The pending meetings of the day should help with her concentration. Yet Mr. Stanton crossed her path by a quirk of the universe, so to speak, and Jesmond refrained herself from questioning why.

Surrendering to her thoughts, Jesmond allowed the wildest of fantasies to take control of her mind as if to cleanse her brain and make room for the seriousness ahead. Almost angrily, Jesmond discarded the rampaging images, allowing herself to be dragged back to reality. Her office phone was ringing, jangled more like it. It was time for the meeting.

Marking her place on her black binder, Jesmond absently retrieved the phone. It was the cool, professional voice of Cerissa.

Ms. LaVilliard, it’s William from Stanton Studios, she announced.

Jesmond waited eagerly for William to give her the news. It had only been two days since she dropped off the camera. It couldn’t possibly be ready after forty-eight hours.

William’s voice was reserved and professional as if he began his career announcing classical music on FM radio. Jesmond thought for a moment. Coulson Stanton’s voice had that same actor-trained smoothness.

Ms. LaVilliard? William at Stanton Studios. You brought your camera to me? He paused before continuing getting right to the point. He seemed to sigh and then stated the news Jesmond was apprehensive to hear.

Ms. LaVilliard, he began, I’m sorry we could not locate the necessary parts to repair your camera. We tried several places, but no one was able to help us."

Jesmond felt a chill of disappointment clutch her chest. She loved that camera. It helped her through a published book, news events, and travels.

It is, after all, more than ten years old, but you know that. William’s mood abruptly perked up as he continued. At that moment, Cerissa entered Jesmond’s office, carrying two fair-sized boxes. She placed them gently on the long conference table and left, quickly closing the door behind her.

Mr. Stanton instructed me to replace the damaged camera if it could not be repaired, William explained. It should arrive by special messenger this morning.

Jesmond’s attention suddenly snapped to the two boxes on the table. Her eyes widened as she recognized the high-end photography brand name as she tried to continue to focus on William’s words.

Yes, Jesmond replied surprised at her steady voice. I think it just arrived. Her voice now escalated to a high excited level.

Mr. Stanton did not have to—it was not necessary, really!

You should discuss that with Mr. Stanton, William suggested calmly. Again, Ms. LaVilliard, I’m sorry about your camera.

Thank you, William, for your help, Jesmond replied softly. She hung up and then turned to stare curiously at the packages on the table. She walked to the table to inspect the boxes more closely. Jesmond sighed softly and then retrieved Coulson Stanton’s business card from her purse. She had not bothered to put his number in her phone because of the debates she had with herself.

There was a note attached to one of the boxes with Jesmond’s name written on it in a neat but masculine script.

Ms. LaVilliard:

Please accept these items in lieu of your damaged property.

Cole Stanton

A hot blush suddenly poured over Jesmond’s body as she reread the note several times, unsure of the emotions engulfing her right then. Confidently, she punched Cole’s number into her phone and waited nervously for the ring.

The female voice that answered Coulson Stanton’s office phone was as polished and well trained as William’s actor like voice.

Hello, Jesmond responded to the professional greeting from the receptionist on the phone. This is Jesmond LaVilliard calling for Mr. Stanton.

The phone made no connecting sound, but the resonant voice of Cole Stanton was suddenly on the line, his voice as smooth as everyone else he was associated with in his circle.

Ms. LaVilliard, he greeted happily, how nice to hear from you.

Jesmond’s heart suddenly began hammering in her chest, betraying the reserved facade she promised herself she would maintain for Coulson Stanton. She quietly cleared her throat and struggled to mimic the cool demeanor exampled by his wealth and power.

Mr. Stanton, Jesmond calmly responded, I’m sorry to disturb you, but—

You are not disturbing me, Ms. LaVilliard, Coulson Stanton remarked calmly. His voice had suddenly dipped from controlled and professional to sensual. A warm glow came over Jesmond’s face as her brain noted the change in inflection in the voice of a man she could not presently see but could picture clearly from their brief encounter in the park.

That’s very nice of you, Mr. Stanton. You have been very kind, and I called to thank you for that and the beautiful gift.

I try to be responsible, Cole replied.

It was not necessary.

I figured that, but I caused a damage, and I tried to make amends.

Well, Jesmond began, I don’t want to hold you up, but I did want to thank you for the lovely camera. Despite her words, Jesmond felt the unexplained desire to continue their conversation. Her head throbbed rhythmically as she debated whether to continue their talk or stop right then.

You are welcome, Ms. LaVilliard.

Good-bye, Mr. Stanton.

Jesmond hung up, her throbbing head now spinning with a strange mental disappointment regarding the last few minutes. She sat quietly at her desk while slowly putting away her phone when Nia Ellis suddenly burst into Jesmond’s office, breathless and curious. Her eyes immediately fell on the unopened boxes on Jesmond’s conference table.

Fuck, Jesmond! Nia exclaimed. Tell me your damn secret!

Jesmond sat in her home office, the opened camera boxes and expensive photography equipment spread out on her desk like a new Christmas gift.

Wow, she said aloud as she browsed through the thick tome that was the operating manual that accompanied the camera and additional lenses.

The new equipment sat majestically and regal as Jesmond continued to inspect and experiment with the sophisticated technical features.

I’ll bet this thing does everything but make coffee, and I’ll bet there is a function for that I haven’t found yet, she mused.

She gently and carefully manipulated the buttons and knobs on the impressive equipment while simultaneously referring to the thick manual. Jesmond carefully pressed a button on the camera and then gasped as she checked the resulting image on the screen.

Holy shit! she said out loud.

To an extent, Jesmond enjoyed the weekly staff meetings with her VPs, managers, and supervisors. The meetings usually lasted one hour, with a creative buzz throughout the session that always ended with definite goals and strategies—something that Jesmond insisted upon to deter confusion and time wasting. She had been part of unclear weak communication meetings in the past with other companies and recalled how frustrating the emotions could be.

Jesmond made notes in her black binder while the executives and managers developed and extensively discussed a new idea for the company. This may be interesting, Jesmond thought while writing tentative plans and listening to the ideas floating about the large conference room.

Jesmond was suddenly proud of herself. She lasted an entire morning on task