Her Dilemma (A Contemporary Interracial Romance): UnReal Marriage, #6

By Tasha Hart

There's something about Wes...

 

Maybe it's the fact that he's a CEO and has the power over thousands of other people. Or that he's slightly richer than God. Or that he's handsome as sin. But there's something about Wes that makes Dana lose control.

 

It's one meeting. And then one kiss. And then one night.

 

Now that would be fine if it was over the course of a few days. But this is in the course of a few hours! Dana's not that kind of girl. She knows he's too much. Too beautiful. Too rich. Too charming. She's gonna get in trouble.

 

And then she does.

 

Now its up to Wes to realize that he's hurting her by being too perfect. Is Mr. Perfect-At-Life gonna realize and change his ways for his woman? Or will it be too late?

 

Discover what happens in this thrilling contemporary romance!

 

**Previously titled: Dana's Dilemma*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Summerhouse Publishing
• Release date: Mar 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215530863

Book preview

Chapter One

Dana

What do you think you’re doing? Levon jumps at the sound of my voice and rolls that meatball head of his over his shoulder to peer back at me.

We were just talking. The little hoochie whose ear he has been bending can’t be more than a quarter his size. I don’t know what it is about big dudes like him, but they only seem to go after pint-sized girls.

On the clock? I lock my fists on my hips and cock my head to the side. It’s a look everyone in the club knows well, and it essentially means that I can smell the bullshit from where I’m standing.

Hey, big man, the tiny girl runs a finger up along his beefy forearm. Who’s the pit bull? Levon sputters because he can feel the trouble this silly little runt is stepping into and I answer before he can think of something to say.

The pit bull, I cut over the top of them before he can manage to get three words together, "is Big Man’s boss. And Big Man has until I snap my fingers to finish his drink and get back to watching the floor, or Big Man is going to have to answer to me."

Little girl’s lacquered mouth hangs open, and Levon tips back his shift drink so fast whiskey and coke run down his cheeks and onto his T-shirt. He ducks past with a nod, and I burn holes in the girl with my eyes. In truth, I’m not much bigger than her, but everyone says it’s not the size that counts. She has to hold her glass in both hands, whereas I could bench press three of her.

It’s not her fault, really. Levon has a history of chatting up the club girls, and he’s not the only one. Still, when I see the shiny tramps slink in here with their titties half out, it makes me crazy. Gunner at the door always lets in three girls to each guy when he’s minding the rope, so who else are they supposed to flirt with? Besides, Roslyn’s motto is: Flirting Sells Drinks.

That’s probably true but flirting also starts fights. If there’s one thing drunk guys love to throw hands over, it’s who gets to hook up with the girl. The ones who have women at home are usually the first to bring the fisticuffs, but whatever.

Hey, could I get another over here? It’s that brand of loud, boozy bray that sends a sizzle all the way up my spine. I turn around to see exactly what I expected. Some guy with a tight haircut and an expensive suit is leaning out of his chair rattling his empty glass at the nearest waitress. Oooh, that burns me up.

There’s a white guy sitting next to him, and he must be a little more sober, because he’s pulling his friend back around and quieting him. All right, buddy, you get points.

Even if they’re quiet for now, I can sense I’m going to have to keep an eye on that table. Rich boys never get into fights, but they have a tendency to get loud and out of hand. The light skinned brother with the tight fade is a textbook example of guys whose mother’s never taught them how to behave in public.

Quit grabbing me, Wes! All I want is another drink. Hey! Babe?

Yeah, I’m afraid I’m going to get to know that voice really well before the night is over. Come to think of it, where is Levon? If he’s leaning on some girl, I’m going to rain the apocalypse on him.

A quick scan of the room finds him posted up, blocking the door. There’s clearly someone on the other side who thinks they’re going to get past him, and I can say from experience that whoever it is had better roll on. With Levon’s size, all he really has to do is plant his feet and shake his head. It’d take a forklift to get through that door.

Hey, babe! Babe? Babe! Fade in the suit is not letting this one go. Honestly, I can’t blame waitresses for steering clear of him, but if even one of them would just bring the guy a drink, he’d shut up for a bit. But, then again, he’d only be louder and more annoying at the bottom of the next glass.

Well, if Levon is blocking the door, that means Gunner is on the other side. And if Gunner is on the other side, that means that if there’s any rowdiness on the floor, it’s on my plate until Levon sorts out whatever mess he’s dealing with.

Now, I’ll be honest. There’s a part of me that loves breaking up fights. I’ve spent some time busting heads, and it always carries a whiff of satisfaction, mostly because the guys don’t see me coming. They don’t think a woman could mess up their night, and they always find out they are sorely mistaken.

But something like this? Man, I hate the part where I just have to try and get some loud mouth to settle down. That’s where being a woman stinks, because guys hate women telling them what to do—especially if they’re just having fun. There’s usually some patronizing talk, and some woefully unsubtle ogling, but I can almost always sort them out in the end. Threatening to cut off their drink service packs one hell of a punch.

Why did we come out here if nobody is going to serve us?

Will you just calm down? It’s not like they’re not busy. The redhead friend is laughing, but at least he may end up in my corner.

I sigh and stop off at the bar.

You’re not looking for a drink, are you? Patrice cocks her head at me while wiping out a glass.

Girl, please. I’m just taking a breath before I have to go over to settle the clown in the fancy suit.

Yeah, she casts a sideways glance at the table. He’s a charmer, isn’t he? Let’s just hope he doesn’t turn into more of a problem than simply being a noisy prick.

Unfortunately, I say, it looks like it’s gonna fall to me to quiet him down.

Chapter Two

Wes

Man, the women in this place are fine as hell. It’s just a shame none of them know how to waitress! Trey sucks at his ice cubes for what feels like the thousandth time and slides his sweaty glass onto the table.

You know, Vee leans forward, "if you didn’t slam the thing back, you wouldn’t be waiting on the rest of us