Love Over Envy: BWWM Pregnancy Romance Novel Read online

  LOVE OVER ENVY

  By Jamila Jasper

  Copyright © 2015 Jamila Jasper

  BWWM Pregnancy Romance

  Author’s Note:

  This story is based off of the Jamila Jasper short stories Ain’t About The Money and Ain’t About The Money 2. At the request of readers, I turned these stories into a full length work I hope you can enjoy.

  This story contains sexually explicit content only appropriate for readers eighteen years or older. All characters in this book are 18+ and not blood relatives. All sexual acts in this book are consensual.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are strictly coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my editor, J.S.

  Thank you to my dear friend Raven.

  Appreciation, thanks and love to my fiance.

  Contents

  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

  Mailing List

  Contact Jamila

  Bonus Preview

  Chapter 1

  When was the last time you heard of a black woman named Genevieve? That was the obnoxious question that had plagued Genevieve Mauricette her entire life. People seemed unable to wrap their minds around the facts but not all black people originated from the United States. But for most of her life, Genevieve’s peers didn’t care about anything except the fact that Genevieve was different and they could make fun of her for it. They mocked her for her “white” sounding name, even if where her parents came from, there was nothing “white” about the name Genevieve.

  Her peers were unable to broaden their minds and accept that some people just had a different culture than she did. Genevieve’s father, Jean Luc, was a black Frenchman. Her mother, was Haitian Creole from the Bayou. Their names all sounded excessively French as if they had hailed from Paris itself. Genevieve’s parents were self-made business people. While their small businesses were not always the most successful, they managed to give the Genevieve the very best with regards her education. They had managed to pay for Genevieve to go to a great university and then for her to spend two years at an elite writing program tucked away in the middle of the Vermont wilderness.

  Now, Genevieve was pushing 28 and she had just landed an excellent job out of graduate school for her MFA. Well, the job was only excellent in theory. In reality, Genevieve felt unfulfilled. Even if there was potential for her to make a lot of money it was embarrassing to explain to people what she did. See, Genevieve worked for one of these click bait news sites. She came up with articles like:

  “10 Ways To Dress Like A Kardashian.”

  “23 struggles that women with long hair know all too well.”

  “14 prayers to improve your relationship with your boyfriend.”

  The list went on. Genevieve found the work really uninspiring, but she was working towards something greater. She wanted more than anything to become a senior editor at the online magazine she worked for. That kind of position would give her a huge pay raise, a lot of prestige and it would make her parents proud. Sometimes you had to work as a grunt for quite a long time before you could get to the big leagues. That was something Genevieve had a hard time with as time went on. Patience wasn’t exactly one of her virtues and she felt like she had worked too hard for too long. Where were the results? This current position felt like it was headed nowhere But now she was trapped in a city where the rent was too high and she was too stressed out even think about moving on. She had committed to this life and she would have to deal with it.

  At first, Genevieve had been excited to move to the big city. She had never lived in a tall building that contain hundreds of other people before. She had never lived anywhere that seem to keep going and going and going even after dark. But the reality of the city ended up being much different than what Genevieve had expected. The city kept going and going, but not in the good way. Genevieve was often rushed or overwhelmed. There was no time to stop and contemplate. Personal development took a backseat to the daily grind. She had no time for any meaningful social life. She has become one of these women she swore she would never become: a woman who only has time for her job. She had kept chasing and chasing her dreams to the point where she forgot there was more to life than a new job or a promotion.

  All of Genevieve’s friends had settled down already. She knew it was ridiculous, but she was starting to feel like an old maid at 28. She could see the highlight reel of everyone’s lives and not the reality. Those standards were crippling. Screw these standards! Who says a woman has to settle down and start popping out babies second she hits 23? Genevieve tried to keep herself afloat by pointing out to herself that most of her friends didn’t have to go through what she went through to make it big. All they had to do was find a nice man to marry. Genevieve had always wanted more than just a man at her side. A part of Genevieve resented society's pressure for her to have a child early, but another part of her felt as if she was somehow incomplete for not having at least a long term boyfriend. She wasn’t on a path to meet anyone you either. Genevieve felt like she should just settle down and get herself a cat… If only her apartment allowed it.

  A part of Genevieve thought that she was broken because she was single. She wondered if perhaps she was too hideous for words or had a terrible personality. But none of that was the case. Genevieve was quite beautiful, just not in the way the magazines wanted you to think of beauty. She wasn’t very tall but despite that she had a very feminine gait with perfect posture. All these years of dancing ballet as a child clearly paid off. Although Genevieve didn’t remember what a plie was, she still remembered to stand up straight and tall. Genevieve had dark walnut colored skin with earthy golden undertones.

  Genevieve had a sweet round face, with high cheekbones and a dimpled smile. She had a large forehead, which was highlighted even more by her thin eyebrows. She never wore much makeup because her mother had forbid it when she was a child. Although she hadn't been to church in a minute, Genevieve was raised a staunch Catholic. Makeup and revealing clothing had never even been an option as she was growing up. As an adult, it was just habitual for her to dress modestly and wear nothing more than light mascara and a tiny bit of lipstick.

  Her face emitted a warm and friendly glow, just like you would expect of a woman from Louisiana. One of Genevieve’s best features where her obsidian colored eyes. It was funny, many people in Genevieve's family actually had those catlike green eyes you occasionally saw on black people, but Genevieve was an odd duck. She used to be awfully jealous of these bold green eyes, but she eventually came around to loving her eyes and face the way they were. Who said there was anything wrong with dark colored eyes anyways?

  Genevieve's body wasn’t bad to look at either. She was short and extremely curvy. Her H-cup breasts made bra shopping difficult. Her thick booty meant leggings were a blessing. Genevieve wasn’t a woman who you could describe as “slim thick” either. She had a little pooch that never seemed to disrupt her daily activities. Genevieve was a cu
rvy, thick woman and over time she had become proud of her curves. People were always trying to say one thing or the other about women’s bodies. First everyone was into staying paperthin. Then you had to have big breasts. Now you had to have a big ass to be considered “hot” according to the media. Genevieve learned that all these little trends that try to fit women into boxes were meaningless. All that mattered was loving the body she was born in.

  As she took a break from writing at her computer, Genevieve looked into her little pocket mirror. Her plump carnation pink lips were getting a little parched from the air conditioning in the office. Genevieve was wearing long thin braids and she used the mirror to help her clip them back out of her face. As Genevieve was about to return to work, her work friend Greta popped up out of nowhere.

  She had severe vocal fry that linguists write articles about every month or so.

  “Hey Genevieve,” Greta rasped. She leaned over Genevieve’s desk almost knocking over her coffee mug. Genevieve was nearly scared out of her skin. Something about Greta was a tiny bit unnerving to Genevieve. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly.

  “Hey Greta,” Genevieve answered. She tried to be polite to Greta because they were coworkers after all. Sometimes Genevieve considered Greta a friend. Plus, Greta seemed to have a vested interest in spending time with Genevieve. Genevieve hated to admit it, but Greta was the closest thing she had to a best friend since she had moved to the city.

  Greta Hansson was the type of woman who never spent a weekend alone. Her “body count” was somewhere well over fifty. As Greta leaned over Genevieve’s desk and she began recounting a grotesque sexual exploit, Genevieve took the time to truly examine the woman’s features under the guise of providing a listening ear. Greta had slightly wavy bright red hair; she pretended it was natural but her blonde roots let Genevieve know that Greta was a liar.

  Greta had skin that was the color of evaporated milk. Her eyes were giant and icy blue. Just making eye contact with Greta was hypnotizing but not necessarily in a good way. Another creepy thing about Greta was her staring habit. Sometimes, Genevieve would look up from her desk and see Greta just watching her from across the office. These startup internet companies never seemed to learn that open floor plan offices were not the way to go. Greta could be so distracting too. Like right then…

  Genevieve was lost in her own thoughts when Greta snapped her fingers in front of Genevieve’s face.

  “Helloooo? Earth to Genevieve! I asked you a dang question!” Greta hissed. She laughed awkwardly afterwards and then stared into Genevieve’s eyes waiting for a response.

  “Um… Yeah… It sounds… Great!” Genevieve said, pretending she knew what on earth Greta had been talking about.

  Greta gushed, “Oh my gosh! Yay! So you’ll come!”

  Shit. Genevieve had just agreed to something. What on earth was it? Greta always seemed to drag her along when some crazy idea popped into her head. Last time, they had driven to the Jersey Shore and it was absolutely terrible…

  Greta had abandoned Genevieve to hook up with an actual cast member of Jersey Shore. Meanwhile, Genevieve had languished in their motel room alone with a her favorite Raven Ferrari romance novel. The novel was captivating but it didn't make up for that loneliness Genevieve had experienced.

  Greta continued babbling on; Genevieve was trying to piece together what exactly she had just agreed to do. After a few sentences, she finally figured out that she had agreed to go out for drinks after work with Greta. It wasn’t the best news, but Genevieve was just glad she hadn't gotten dragged into another road trip. Genevieve had an after work ritual that she hated to deviate from. In fact, Genevieve hated to deviate from any of her rituals. She was the type of woman who had her way of doing things and she did accept anyone else’s.

  After work drinks were a waste of time in Genevieve's view. All you got was drunk… And distracted… Genevieve had goals and going out after work to get wasted every night wasn’t going to get her any closer to accomplishing them.

  When Genevieve arrived home, she would first take a long hot shower and wash away the day's worries as well as all the dirt from using public transportation. After a shower, Genevieve would tie her hair in a silk scarf. Then she would climb into bed with a hot cup of chamomile tea and her laptop so she could watch Netflix. She would watch a movie, maybe two and then she would drift off to sleep. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this ritual. Sure, sometimes she wished there was sexy dark skinned dude in her bed like Morris Chestnut… But for the most part she was content to do things alone. Most people her age came with too much drama. Genevieve absolutely hated that petty nonsense. Now all her plans were completely squashed because she hadn’t been paying attention and she had agreed to go out with Greta for drinks.

  Genevieve tuned back into what Greta was saying.

  “You know what Genevieve? We’re also going to meet tons of hot guys. You obviously haven’t been laid in a minute and I think you’ll find a guy to give you some much needed release. You’re too wound up! It’s actually crazy. Oh my god, speaking of crazy…”

  As Greta went off on another tangent, Genevieve zoned out again. She didn’t know What to make of Greta’s comment. Sure, it had been a while but that wasn’t any of her business. Genevieve knew she didn’t like the type of guys that Greta liked anyways. Genevieve took dating seriously. Greta saw guys as nothing more than one night stands. Genevieve couldn’t help but take Greta’s comment to heart either way.

  Was it really that noticeable that she didn’t have a man in her life? Genevieve was insecure about her complete lack of romantic prospects. Since moving to the city things had gone from bad to worse.

  She couldn’t figure out what was going wrong. Genevieve thought she knew exactly what she wanted. She knew boisterous outgoing men were not her type. These men had no values. They were the type of men to run around behind your back going through women like crazy. These were the men who would get up and leave you for another woman the moment their fickle minds decided it was time. Despite her beliefs, Genevieve had a few doubts about how well her dating convictions were working out for her.

  Despite Genevieve’s constant pursuit of beta male nice guys, she found they treated her no better than the alpha males she avoided. Another woman would have decided that it was time for a change, to start giving guys a chance based on who they actually were as opposed to who she perceived them to be. Genevieve just figured she should swear off men for a while. Her guard was up and she was tired of getting her heart broken.

  Finally, Greta decided to leave Genevieve so she could get back to work. She was more than excited about the chance to go out with her new bestie. Greta might’ve been a little off, but she was genuine about how much she liked Genevieve. At least that's what Genevieve thought. There was something about Greta that could cause you to open up and tell her all your secrets. Sure, Greta might’ve been a little odd but everyone needs that one odd friend right? Genevieve was starting to work herself up to being excited to get to know Greta better over a few drinks and a hot sweaty night of salsa dancing.

  The rest of the day at work seemed to drag on. Genevieve was forced to think about her past, both her romantic past and otherwise. There was a point in time when Genevieve was the life of the party. She was the girl you could always rely on to show up with 10 of her hottest best friends. She was the girl you could rely on to say from opening of the club to the close. Of course, that was college. After college and after struggling through grad school while try to work two jobs, Genevieve had calmed down quite a bit. She was no longer the last at the party. She was the person that couldn't wait to go home at 5 o’clock to eliminate the stress of the work day. Her social life was nonexistent.

  Genevieve used have great dreams. Just want to be a famous editor. She wanted so much out of life and now it seemed like there was no moving up as quickly as she wanted to. All of Genevieve’s old friends had started families. They didn’t care about career advance
ment; they didn’t have any of the lofty goals that Genevieve did. Genevieve felt like she was being punished for her position. She could either have one thing or another, but she couldn’t have it all.

  Chapter 2

  Evening. After work. Genevieve had pulled herself together in less than an hour and despite that, she felt what she has looked good. She had bought the dress off an Instagram boutique. Even if she hadn’t tried it on before that night, it fit her perfectly. The dress was a deep cocoa brown, nearly the color of Genevieve skin. It hugged her curves in all the right places. She was one intense makeup look away from being a model. But as usual, she only added a little mascara. Still, Genevieve felt out of place in the salsa club once she got there. This just wasn’t her scene at all and she couldn’t believe she had agreed to go out with Greta like this. What the hell was she doing in a club trying to meet guys? Genevieve knew she would never find any man worth her time in a place like this.

  A popular, overplayed salsa song La Vida Es Un Carnaval blared through the speakers. Celia Cruz’s baritone sounded phenomenal, but Genevieve was too uncomfortable to pay her voice much attention. The lights in the club were dim except for a couple flashing green and red lights. It looked like a scene right out of Havana or Santo Domingo. Except no one in the club cared if you were Latino or not. In the dim light, anyone who could speak Spanish was Spanish. Anyone who could dance salsa belonged. The club was filled with Cubans, Dominicans, Panamanians, Puerto Ricans and more. Anyone who bumped into Genevieve’s thought she was their Dominican cousin or something. Negrita! Negrita! She she couldn’t count how many times she had the word hurled at her as some suave Latino man tried to have his way. If only it weren’t for the language barrier, Genevieve would’ve found plenty of them physically attractive. But Genevieve knew a serious man like the one she wanted wouldn't get caught dead here.