Privileged Love: A BWWM Romance (Blazin' Love Book 2) Read online

  Privileged Love

  Blazin’ Love Book Two

  Ja’Nese Dixon

  Also by Ja’Nese Dixon

  Read the Series

  Blazin’ Love (Contemporary Romance)

  Platinum Love (Book 1)

  Privileged Love (Book 2)

  Exclusive Love (Book 3)

  Chosen Love (Book 4)

  Special Love (Book 5) (Coming June 2019)

  Steamy Sensations Holiday Love

  PRIVILEGED LOVE. Copyright © 2019 by Ja’Nese Dixon

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organization and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-950405-03-9 (paperback)

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Contents

  About Privileged Love

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Leave a Review

  Join My Newsletter

  Book 1 ~ Platinum Love

  Book 3 ~ Exclusive Love

  SNEAK PEEK: Rockstar Secrets

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Also by Ja’Nese Dixon

  About the Steamy Sensations Holiday Love

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  3 wishes… 2 reluctant hearts…

  1 steamy St. Patrick’s Day!

  It’s St. Patrick’s Day.

  The day is really not important, at least that’s what I thought. I dress to impress, ready to secure my first contract as a partner with Platinum Prestige.

  Simple, right? No, I wish.

  I’m Harper Price. I’ve joined my best friends in starting an elite concierge service and I’m up. My sole task is to lease an airplane from Liam.

  I walk in, he proposes, I walk out.

  Apparently, his billions have gone to his head and now the sexy, arrogant menace won’t leave me alone. His head is hard as a brick. (Take that any way you want.) And he refuses to accept “no” in any language. But I’m done with love.

  No more.

  Nada.

  No mas.

  Yet secretly, I’m scribbling my first name with his last name. Then he whispers, “Live a little Harper.” And his money green eyes shine like dollars signs as he throws an unexpected curve ball. He’ll grant three wishes, when…not if…I say yes.

  Does having the most eligible rich bachelor begging to put a ring on it make me lucky? Hell no!

  Not when my heart is screaming leap, my head is screaming caution, and my panties are.…

  Oh hell, this is a f’in plane crash waiting to happen.

  What is a woman to do?

  Chapter 1

  Harper

  “Jerk!” I thrust the wine across the table in true reality show grandeur. I watch the wine slide down his face and trickle down his chin. The pool of red gathering on his white shirt is the only satisfaction I’ll have after another night of watching him appraise every woman in the room with lust-filled eyes.

  Marcel’s head snaps in my direction, the lust traded for anger. He reaches for a napkin. “What is wrong with you, Harper?”

  “You’re what’s wrong with me.” I stand up, pushing away from the table. “Why did you bring me to this fancy Mongolian restaurant to behave like a snake? I’m done with tonight, and I’m done with you.”

  “Stop being a brat.”

  I turn to leave, and Marcel grabs my wrist. I yank it free, pulling my balled hand to my side. I want to drive my itty-bitty fist through his wandering eyes. It's who he is, and I can't fault him for that.

  This is my fault. I thought I was different. I knew he had a way with women and he insisted that he change. I thought our chemistry was enough. That our history was enough. But once again my natural slant towards giving him the benefit of the doubt, blocked my judgment.

  I smooth my hands over my dress, pulling my shoulders back. “Lose my number.”

  “Gladly.” Marcel wipes his face. The man is fine, a beautiful brown masterpiece, and he knows it. But he’s a goliath bullfrog, an oversized, slimy reptile. I take that back. That’s insulting to reptiles. Yet here I am.

  Again.

  I stomp through the restaurant making sure he sees what he’ll miss. I’m a few inches over five feet, but I don't give a damn. Thanks to a standing appointment with my trainer, my full hips, snatched waist, and round, natural butt make for a sight coming and going. So, I envision my best Beyoncé fan, tossing my hair over my shoulder winking at the many admirers as I make my grand exit in slow motion, pretending my heart isn't crushed.

  I reach the door, giving Marcel a parting glance. So much for speed dating. I mentally scratch that one off my list along with Marcel. I’ve tried dating apps, blind dates, and my mother sprinkled in the sons of all her besties. But I’m still single.

  I step outside looking up at the dark sky. Suddenly the clouds crack open. The downpour covers me plastering my white dress to my body. I’m officially done with tonight. I pull off my shoes quickly shuffling to my car through the rain.

  I yank open the door, thankful I don’t need a key. I plop down and open my visor. I’m drenched. I’m pissed. Then a scream escapes from the pit of my soul.

  "That's it!" I pull open my armrest and find some tissues to dry my face. "No more, Harper. You can't keep doing this to yourself." I dry my face, but for some reason, I can't control the tears flowing from my eyes. No more playing nice, it hurts too much.

  "Suck it up, Harper."

  But I’m not listening. I grab my cellphone from my clutch. I text the guys, SOS. S&J ASAP. I turn on the sound for my phone then toss it into a cupholder. I finish drying my face, and my phone is singing a melody of hope from my guys.

  I tap the first text from Hunter, Roger that.

  I’m there, from Charlee makes me chuckle. I know she'll be late, but I never doubt that she will be the one cussing and fussing the loudest.

  The others roll in, and I smile, grateful for amazing friends. All nine confirmed.

  I'm knocking on thirty's door, and my biological clock is ticking louder since watching Hunter walk down the aisle with Ben. I'm happy for her, but I can't help but wonder, When will I find Mr. Right?

  Not Mr. Right Now. Not Mr. I Want You And Your Girlfriends Too.

  I pull out my emergency makeup kit and try to repair the damage thanks to the rain. Dudes now days have too many options. I close the compact glancing down. Next, I need to fix my outfit, but I don't want to drive all the way home. Target.

  I turn the key in the ignition, minutes later I swoop into a parking space and run inside, praying my see-through dress doesn't give s
ome old man a heart attack. I quickly find jeans and a boyfriend t-shirt. I leave on my heels, and I toss the beautiful white dress into the nearest trashcan. Last is my now frizzy hair. I gather it up into a messy bun, and I'm pleased with my reflection.

  “Thatta girl.” I tuck my black clutch under my arm.

  I walk out of Target back to my car feeling like myself. Minutes later I park outside Smith & Jameson with time to spare. I apply some gloss, staring into my eyes realizing, I’m a frog magnet.

  I'm talking about slimy, sleazy, and green. I'm drawing these ultimate losers from the pond, and I can only deduct that I'm the common factor. That I attract losers.

  I search my eyes looking for it, hoping to see the thing they see in me. And all I see is, Harper, a woman that goes hard for her friends and family. I'm loyal and give one thousand percent because my parents taught me life gives you what you need when you need it. So, maybe life is speaking and telling me I don't need it. I don't need love. Not that kind of love, at least.

  For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted the when two become one in life. To be someone’s rib, his ride-or-die. To be a wife and a mother.

  Call me old fashion. Call me crazy. Call me a princess, trying to find a prince, hence the scattered toads around my otherwise perfect life.

  I flip the visor closed and head towards the restaurant, tardiness is not my style. And like the change of seasons and time, maybe it’s time I find a new version of Harper Anne Price.

  I was that girl. But now I need to give this restless heart of mine a break. Because one thing I know for sure, I’m done kissing frogs.

  Two drinks in and I’m mellow. The guys are talking all at once, and Hunter leans over whispering, “Ready to talk?”

  I shrug, signaling the waiter for drink number three. “I’m officially off the market.”

  “You found a Boo?” Charlee perks up across the table.

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Her face goes long. “Harper, who did what now?”

  “I went out with Marcel.”

  "I told you that guy is a first-class jerk," Parker says, her face bunched up in disgust. "All he dates are heiresses."

  “Leech.” Taylor sucks her teeth.

  “Well, I do have the name and the bank account. But I thought… I honestly don’t know what the hell I thought.” I take a sip of my wine. “I’ve known him since high school. We dated before he realized how fine he is and he actually was a nice guy. Once upon a time.”

  “Was is the key word in that sentence," Hunter adds. "Sweetie, you're too nice. You give men waaaaayyyyy too much credit.”

  “I need to school you about these dudes.” Charlee leans forward, class is in session. She props her elbow on the table holding up a finger. “First, you need to stop thinking every dude is husband material, because he ain’t. Second, you need to stop thinking every dude will appreciate wifey material, because he won’t. And lastly, stop ignoring your gut. You think you attract frogs, well stop ignoring their spots.”

  Anxiety is bubbling in my stomach as the guys nod in unison. I don’t agree, but that could attribute to the caliber of men I attract.

  "People change every day. Why is it wrong, or naive, to expect the best first instead of the worst about a person? Why can't a guy say what he wants and mean it?"

  “Because this ain’t no damn Disney movie.” Charlee lays out the harsh truth.

  "That is so depressing." I shake my head, draining my glass of wine dry. Then I push it away since I'm driving tonight. "I hear you, Charlee, I'm retiring my glass slippers. No more nice Harper." I say the words but it feels like a part of my dream is dying. "Can we please change the subject? On a much better note, I want to take a more active roll in Platinum Prestige."

  Hunter started an elite concierge service, all the women around the table hold a percentage. But for the most part, Hunter and her husband Ben handle everything. The guys—Charlee, Parker, Chase, Taylor, Payton, Alex, Ryann, Jordan, and I—supply our family connections, funding, and social juice. Oh, and we look damned good in our Men in Black suits—dubbed GIB, Guys in Black. We initially bonded over our male first names, now we’re connected by our friendship, sisterhood, and business.

  “What do you have in mind? I have a very ambitious list of tasks I’d like to complete before having the babies.” I rub Hunter's belly beneath the table ready to be an aunt. She leans over against me, and we have a small moment. I'm close with all the guys, but Hunter is the one I call when life throws me a sucker punch, like today. And Charlee when I need the unadulterated truth.

  “How can I help?” I ask.

  “Me too,” Charlee and several of the guys say at once.

  Hunter pulls out her cellphone sitting upright. This is what I need to stop thinking about what I expected from my life by my thirtieth birthday. I work, not because I have to, but because I want to and it would be cool to help Hunter build this majority Black women-owned brand with my best friends.

  “We've secured adequate funding, but now we need to extend our line of services." Hunter glances around the table.

  “What types of services?” I ask.

  "Envision anything you'd want or need. Our target is people like us. Affluent, used to getting what they want when they want it. But then I want us to take it up a notch. Luxury, access, elite."

  “Sign me up.” Charlee squeals.

  "You're already signed up, crazy woman." I nudge her with my shoulder, and we laugh. "What do we need to do?"

  "Grab your phones." We all do. "Anybody and everybody you know should become a potential contact for Platinum Prestige. They should link us to various services and products. I figure we have one year to assemble our contacts before we sign up more clients."

  “Are there particular connections you want to start with?” I scroll through my phone. “Because we could create an in-house database.”

  "How about I handle that? I can make it searchable and cataloged by services or products," Taylor says with her fingers gliding over her phone adding notes.

  “Now we’re talking.” Hunter smiles turning to me. “Harper, I want to start with leasing a corporate jet. You think your dad could get us a meeting with Walsh Executive Jets?”

  "Yeah sure." I add a note to my phone. My family's claim to Texas fame is in agriculture. We have several large ranches around the state and Dad flies between them several times a month, instead of buying a jet, we lease from WEJ.

  “What about me?” Charlee asks.

  “You have major connections with restaurants, foods, and services. How about you work on a list of luxury brands and start with that? I’m thinking chocolates, wines, flowers.”

  Charlee nods. The focus on her face makes me geeked. We are really doing this.

  “And Jordan, I need you to start working on the app. We need something within the next four to six months. We can test the services on a few of our celebrity clients before rolling out next year.”

  For the next hour, Hunter conducts a meeting in S&J like we're in a corporate office. Every guy has her task. We have our lawyers on standby for negotiations. All we have to do is secure the meetings. Hunter and the suits will handle the details.

  We schedule the follow-up meeting for next week. I take a deep breath. This is what I need to use up some time and make a shift in my life. And it sounds easy enough. How hard could it be?

  "I'll get Ben to reserve the VIP room for us next time," Hunter says as we're closing out.

  “How are the current contracts going?” I ask as we right the tables, pushing the chairs underneath. We signed Rockstar Entertainment and Smith & Jameson already. They are testing the few services we offer now.

  “Great. We’ve scheduled event locations, delivered food. That’s why I know we need a plane in our back pocket.”

  "I'm on it." I send a quick text to my dad, and he responds within seconds. "I'm out. Dad is actually in town. I can get my part rolling this week. We're about to kill it!"

  "Damn r
ight," Hunter says with the confidence and swagger of a true boss.

  “Love you guys!” I head out to my car. I think about the guys, specifically Hunter. We all were sort of aimless before she created this idea. And now, I can’t imagine her not running Platinum Prestige.

  That's what I want. I want to stand up for myself in this world and contribute equally to building our business.

  Time for me to boss up and shift my life in a new direction.

  Chapter 2

  Liam

  “You’re fired.” I turn back to the proposal in my hands. “Leave the notes and your building access card with Glenda.”

  “Liam, you’re an asshole.” Her face is beet red.

  "I've been called worse. And it's Mr. Walsh." I drop the document on my desk. "I don't have time to waste. You are incompetent, and apparently, you believe I run a dating service." At least she has the decency to look ashamed. "Thank you for your contribution to WEJ. Now, please excuse me, I have another appointment." I push the intercom button on the phone. "Next."

  The sixth event planner in less than a year drags out the door. I blame the Austin’s Most Eligible Bachelors and Bachelorettes list. It brought in many new executive contacts but also women from every corner of the world. Who has time to read such lists? Let alone use them as their personal matchmaker.

  “I told you not to do it. But would you listen to me? No. All those degrees and the fumes of money have scrambled your common sense.”