Just Marry Me Already (BWWM Romance Book 1)

by Ayo Campbell

  “But,” Vanessa said, “why?”

  “Because I am not the slimy, manipulative, corporate bitch everyone thinks of me as. I do have a soft side, and I wanted to do something nice for my new business partner; start things off with a show of good will. Little did I know that you two would–”

  “Business partner?”

  “If you’re amenable,” Kaitlin said. “Fifty-fifty. I’ve done some market research, and that neighborhood is gentrifying. Even Colleen noticed that most of your patrons are well past retirement. And, so, I have plans. We can talk after the honeymoon; you have things on your mind right now.”

  “Kaitlin, I…”

  But Vanessa had no words. So, in reply, she leaned over and hugged the woman, squealing like a little girl.

  “I guess this means,” Justin said, “that you’re sticking around.”

  “Okay,” Kaitlin said, giving her a last squeeze. “Oh baby, what I have missed. Anyhow, I gotta go to work. Chat after the show, the party’s on me.”

  The house began to dim, and Kaitlin tore herself away, but halfway to the stage she turned back and whispered, “I want a wedding invite.”

  “Collie’s got you on that.”

  “Cool.”

  And as Kaitlin stepped up into a blue spotlight, Vanessa slid over and clutched Justin as a child would a parent.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Kaitlin began.

  “There’s something going on that I don’t know,” Justin said softly.

  “Hush, baby.”

  “Miss Kitty’s is very pleased and very proud to present for your approval, the trumpet stylings of Samuel G. Coates.”

  The applauds was cut short by a six, long, almost desperate notes, as the lights came up on a tall, slender black man belting out the opening of Baker Street. Those notes flooded Vanessa’s soul, and she became nine years old again, holding her Disney prince, a single tear rolling from under her sunglasses.

  “Oh, baby,” Vanessa whispered, softly. “That’s my big brother.”

  Samuel’s specialty was arranging saxophone pieces for the trumpet, which is a clever trick, considering that one instrument is a reed and the other a horn. But growing up, it never occurred to him that it was difficult. He played by ear, and he had an ear for the sax, while moving from the bass guitar to a trumpet. All he really knew was the soul of soul.

  Vanessa listened to his artistry, and swelled with pride. She wanted to tell each and every customer, tapping their feet or drumming their fingers, “That’s my brother – that’s my big brother.”

  She was almost as entranced with the audience’s rapture as she was with Sam’s music. The boy could be silk and smooth, and then he could be urgent and brash. She stared up at him, amazed at the way his cheeks would pop and puff as he used every ounce of energy to make love with his ax.

  Surrounded by his back-up band, the tall boy looked almost like a black god, commanding and leading his acolytes as he charmed and bewitched the mere mortals below.

  Vanessa began to wonder about that almost god. She had worn the sunglasses because she hadn’t wanted him to look out over the crowd and see, and maybe recognize, her. She suddenly thought herself so vain to think that if he had seen her, she might have thrown him off his game. But standing there, as commanding as he was, she understood that he was indeed almost a god of the music, and no worldly revelation would faze him.

  But then she had a moment, wondering how he might receive her. They had been estranged for almost as long as they had known each other. And he had been off, literally, in another world. Had England or the continent changed him? Had fame changed him? Would he be aloof? Would he be polite, and then be on his way? Would he be angry? Or, worst of all, would he just not care?

  She began to tremble again. Justin held her closer. Sam had just finished a classic rendition of Take the A Train, and the audience was up. He bowed and introduced his band, gulping water during the applauds. The boy was awash in sweat. Vanessa gazed at him, and removed her sunglasses.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, scanning the crowd, “for our final number…”

  And then the god stopped dead. His eyes landed on Vanessa. The audience stared at him as the two gazed on each other. His eyes widened, just a little. Tears filling her eyes, Vanessa nodded, ever so slightly. A smile flicked across his face, and that smile melted Vanessa’s heart.

  Then Sam turned to the band and said something off mic. The boys looked taken a little, then looked to each other and shrugged.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he started again. “I would like to dedicate this last number to a little girl I knew so very long ago.”

  And with that, he began a slow, hauntingly lilting rendition of Over the Rainbow. Vanessa wept openly.

  The instant the number finished, and as the crowd went wild, Sam went wild himself, leaping from the stage and rushing into his sister’s arms.

  “You!” he cried, smiling and beaming.

  “You,” she said, still weeping.

  “Just look at you – just look at my little sister, all growed up and into a sophisticated lady.”

  “I still got my blue jeans.”

  “And you’re getting married!”

  “How did–”

  “I read the papers, girl.”

  “And just look at you,” she said. “Living your dream.”

  “And you?”

  “Oh, Sam, there’s so much to tell. You, you heard about mom?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Too late to make the funeral, though. Did you?”

  “Yeah. Oh, Sam, there’s so much to tell…”

  “Well, start by introducing me to your intended.”

  The people in the room lingered, watching enviously as Samuel G. Coates sat with a beautiful lady and her betrothed. As promised, the party was on Kaitlin, and the band joined the reunion.

  Vanessa felt like a little girl again as she recounted everything to Sam, speaking so excitedly, peppering her talk with “and then…”, “and then…”, “and then…”

  And then, when the bar had to close, they took the party to Roxy’s. Sam stood a moment, looking up at the sign. Vanessa watched him. Then Sam smiled, shook his head and said, “It is funny.”

  That Monday was a whirl. Sam and Vanessa had to see Arty. The pieces were falling into place, but the lawyer said that the probate court’s wheels would still turn slow. But at that moment, it was Arty who was more frustrated by that than either Vanessa or Sam.

  “But,” Arty said, “I don’t understand. You call yourself Coates?”

  “It’s my name,” he said.

  “But, my name has always been Gaye,” Vanessa said. “I thought that you just took a stage name.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Our mother’s name is Gaye. But, I just don’t know.”

  “That’s why nobody could find you,” Arty said, chuckling. “We were looking for Samuel Gaye.”

  “Oh,” Vanessa said, they turned to leave. “Speaking of finding, have you heard from Wanda?”

  Arty just shook his head.

  Vanessa’s heart sank, but just a little as she clutched her brother’s arm.

  “Who’s Wanda?” he asked.

  “Well…”

  Justin and Collie and Bootsy were already at the bridal shop on Newport Street when the two arrived. They had taken over a dressing room and were being served caviar and mimosas.

  Vanessa introduced her brother, and instantly Bootsy strode to him, took his hand, patted it and smiled, saying, “Momma Ellen was so very proud of you. She would show me the clippings that you sent her. She was so happy that you were happy.”

  “You’re kinda cute,” Collie said. “You married?”

  “Collie?” Vanessa said, eying the girl.

  “Hey, c’mon. Cute is cute, whatever flavor.”

  “Huh?” Sam said.

  “Collie likes girls,” Vanessa said.

  “Mostly,” Collie retorted, eyeing Sam.


  “Okay,” Vanessa said. “So, I see dresses.”

  There were dresses everywhere, and all of them looked as though Collie had chosen them. The girl was as excited as Collie in a fancy dress shop; she wanted everything.

  Bootsy sat, sipping her wine and shaking her head. She had selected a single, very conservative, very matronly, deep crimson gown.

  “Red?” Vanessa asked.

  “In my country,” Bootsy replied, “it is the color for good luck. And, later, if I hem it just about here, I can wear it to church.”

  “You go to church?”

  “No. But maybe some time.”

  Collie was going back and forth over several slinky, sexy outfits. The room was split; Sam and Justin smiling and nodding at everything that Vanessa and Bootsy rolled their eyes at.

  “Okay,” Collie said, grabbing a mass of pink. “Be right back.”

  A few minutes later she emerged in a strapless – thing. The corset held up her boobs, clutching them with alternating pink and silver sequin rays. The midriff was sliver boning, with sheer pink panels dotted with silver stars, while the skirt was a round ball of pink chiffon, all layered and weaving. The smile on Collie’s face was too precious.

  “I like it,” Justin said.

  “So do I,” Sam added.

  “You look like a mixed up lollipop,” Bootsy quipped.

  “But,” Vanessa said, “she loves it, and I give up.”

  Collie’s squeal filled the room.

  After that the men were ushered away, Vanessa being adamant about Justin not seeing the gown before the wedding.

  “It’s tradition,” she said.

  “That’s so bogus.” Sam chuckled.

  “Come,” Justin said, taking his shoulder. “We will speak as men do. Tell me of this jazz. Might there be investment opportunities?”

  They had settled on that next Monday for the wedding. Despite her marrying a fortune, and standing to inherit a part of a smaller one, Vanessa insisted that Roxy’s carry on, on its own for the time being. Collie was a bit disgruntled, hoping for a Saturday off.

  Sam stayed in town, playing a Wednesday night set at Kitty’s. During the break, Vanessa turned to Justin hesitated a bit, and then asked, “Is there – I mean, you got a ring yet?”

  “It’s in hand,” he said, cryptically.

  “I hope so. I mean, when the preacher turns and asks—oh, shit. We forgot a minister.”

  “That too, is in hand.”

  “And…Vanuatu?”

  “I have a plane.”

  Vanessa giggled, and all through her brother’s second set, she dreamed.

  Sunday night, Roxy’s closed early, and while Bootsy set to cooking, and along with the regular fare, she added some sumptuous Vietnamese delicacies. Collie and Vanessa festooned the dining room in warm reds and pinks and soft gold, fussing over flower arrangements and draperies. And when they had finished, the room had elements of every Disney wedding they could remember. Collie and Bootsy stayed the night, and again, out came the rum as the three sat to a quiet, but happy, bachelorette party.

  In the morning, Collie was rushing about, playing stage manager in her pink dress, going back and forth from the dining room to the bedroom, while Bootsy attended Vanessa’s dressing.

  The wedding dress they had all agreed on was a compromise between the red conservative and the pink fluff. It was a long gown in a very soft, pastel rose. The shoulders and bust were delicate, woven lace, while the midriff was silk with sliver brocade decorations. The skirt hugged her hips, and then flared in a delicate sheer hemmed in lace that trailed.

  When she stepped into the room, Sam’s keyboardist played the wedding march, with a personal flare. The whole band was there, along with Kaitlin. And Josie looked so fine in his ill-fitting suit. And while no one was so tacky as to applaud, their smiles told Vanessa of their absolute approval.

  Flanked by Collie and Bootsy, she approached the grinning Justin, standing beside a minister who stood with his back to everyone. Talia discretely snapped away. And when the march ended with a swing sort of flourish, the minister turned, smiling so broadly.

  Vanessa stared, then she gasped. The lean old black man had wrinkles in his wrinkles, yet his color was that deep, rich, almost coal black of the Caribbean. He held his Bible with bony hands that looked to have once been so very strong. His close cropped hair was a brilliant white, and yet when he spoke, his voice was as clear and crisp as she remembered.

  “Vanessa,” he said.

  “Daddy?”

  In answer, he just grinned.

  “You,” she said, “are Louis Franklin Coates?”

  “That’s right, baby girl.”

  “But…”

  “I was once a drunken fool,” he said. “When I left, your mother took back her maiden name.”

  “So, she knew. She knew about you. You sent her your diploma.”

  “She did. We made our peace, and she was proud of me and the new path I have taken. When she told me that, it was the second happiest moment of my life.”

  “The second?”

  “Baby girl,” Louis said, his eyes welling with tears, “this old sinner is blessed to get to preside over your wedding, and I get to give you away, all in the same shot. I call that the happiest day.”

  “But, how did you know? How did you get here?”

  “This fine young gentleman,” Louis said, placing a hand on Justin’s shoulder.

  “My people are a lot better than Arty’s people,” Justin said with a shrug. “Once I figured out the name thing…”

  Vanessa took him in her arms and kissed him right then and there.

  “Hey, baby girl,” Louis cried. “I didn’t say that no one could kiss the bride yet.”

  “Daddy,” Vanessa replied, “nobody kissed no bride; I kissed this good man.”

  “Well, before all that kissing gets out of hand, we’d better get started. The ring please.”

  Everyone craned to see. The exquisite thing was an antique, Edwardian, platinum ring with three pearl-sized, European-cut diamonds that looked as though they had light glowing from within, and set in an intricate Greek key pattern. Vanessa looked from the ring, to Justin, and back to the ring, then back to Justin again. Talia caught her face.

  “What?” Justin said. “It was my grandmother’s.”

  “Oh, Justin.”

  “You’d better get that ring on her, boy,” Louis said, “before she commences kissing again.”

  Carrying His Baby

  She's carrying his child, but will they keep the baby?

  A pregnancy romance, brought to you by popular BWWM author Vanessa Brown.

  When Hallie makes manager at a high class catering company, she's over the moon.

  And with her first job catering a party for the billionaire playboy Aldous, her future's looking very bright indeed.

  But Aldous's party holds more surprises than she initially expected.

  When a celebratory and drunken one night stand with the playboy turns into a missed period a few weeks later, Hallie soon discovers she's pregnant.

  While Aldous has never been the family type, he lets her know she'll have the best care possible during her pregnancy.

  But with her career taking off and the possibility of raising a child with no father figure, does Hallie even want to carry his baby?

  Find out in this emotional yet sexy pregnancy romance by best selling author Vanessa Brown.

  Suitable for over 18s only due to hot baby making sex scenes between a billionaire and a strong African American woman.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 1

  “Oh, crap crap crap crap!”

  Hallie’s voice rose with each ‘crap’. She was late for work. She was never late for work. Except today. Today she was definitely la
te.

  Irate, Hallie looked around at the traffic, wondering when it was going to let up. She needed to get from Soho to Upper East, and she was wondering why the hell she had even considered taking a cab. It was ridiculous. She should’ve taken the subway.

  She would’ve taken the subway if she hadn’t had so much stuff to take, it was just not practical. She needed to be at Café Mocha in half an hour, and there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to make it.

  “Lady, getting frustrated isn’t going to help.”

  The cabbie was amused. He probably saw this all the time.

  “Why is there so much traffic?”

  “It’s Manhattan,” he said nonchalantly and shrugged.

  Well, thought Hallie, she might as well relax, then.

  “I’m Hallie. Hallie Holt.”

  It was second nature for Hallie to get to know people. Living in a big city could be extremely lonely if you didn’t take the time and make the effort to get to know people.

  The cabbie, with his weathered face and surprisingly cheerful eyes, tipped his cap.

  “I’m Alfred, your chauffeur today.”

  Hallie grinned. Even at fifty, Alfred’s heart race just a bit at her grin. It was spectacular. She must be in her early twenties, he figured. She was all suited up, so she had work to do now. Her skin was the color of bitter chocolate, and her eyes were like a glass of good stout. Alfred had never seen Ireland, but Irish was in his blood. It must’ve taken some doing to tame that hair into that little bun or whatever it was.

  “Thank you, Alfred. Is that your family? My, what pretty kids!”

  Alfred glanced at the photo and grinned.

  “My grandchildren. I have two, one more on the way. My Mary Alice made us wait a while, but when she decides to do something, she does it well, so she gave us twins. Now we wait for our Patrick’s first.”

  That made Hallie sigh a bit. Alfred was off by a couple of years on her age – she was twenty-five – but she did love kids. Way off in the future, of course, Hallie reminded herself. In ten years, her career should be well established, and she should be stable enough to start a family.

  Of course, for that, she would have to find a man. That was a bit of a bump on the road.