It's day 6 of March Inspirations and Christina Jones is hanging out with us today to share her novel, Love Notes. Yes, it's flirtatious, steamy, and just enough to wet your...well, read on...
Don't forget to leave a comment to be entered into her #giveaway!
“Okay,” he nodded. “I see what’s happening here, you with the smile, and the hair, and the dimples, all of that.”
I smirked. “Do you really though? Cause I’m pretty sure I caught you all the way off guard just now. Or are you gonna front on me again?”
“I didn’t front on you a first time,” he countered, with the kind of smile that made it very easy to remain in a seat that very well could’ve belonged to another woman. Before I could find out, a server came past, asking if we wanted refills on our drinks.
He said yes, asking for another Hennessey and Coke, and because I was a sucker for a dark man drinking dark liquor, I said yes as well, opting for Sprite and vodka.
“So… am I in someone’s seat right now? In danger of getting swung on?” I asked, meeting deeply amused eyes that were the same color as deep roast in the light from the stage, but seemed glossy black when he turned to fully face me.
“Not really. My boys are off chasing ass, so I doubt they’ll mind.”
“Why aren’t you off doing the same?”
His response was delayed by the delivery of our drinks, and I offered no argument when he instructed the server to put them both on his tab. Once she left, I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his response.
“Well?” I prompted, when he still didn’t answer.
“Why aren’t you off chasing ass like your boys?”
He shrugged, then took a sip from his fresh drink. “Don’t have to. It usually comes to me,” he suggested, giving me a pointed look that made me laugh.
“So you’re caught up now, huh?” I teased. “Welcome to this conversation.”
I raised my glass, and to my absolute delight he met me halfway, clinking his drink against mine.
“Happy to be here.”
“Are you really though?” I asked, then took a swallow from my drink. “Cause a few minutes ago, you tried to—”
“I wasn’t trying to front on you,” he interrupted, with a warm chuckle that gave me a tingly feeling akin to the soda bubbles exploding on my tongue as I drank again. “You gotta stop saying that shit.”
I raised a hand, spreading my fingers wide. “Hey, I’m just standing in my truth here… you should try it.”
“Damn, it’s like that?”
He nodded, then raked his free hand through his beard. “Okay. The truth then.”
I leaned in, into his personal space, and he didn’t flinch, falter, or pull back, just kept with that cool, penetrating gaze. “Please,” I uttered, sounding it out slowly, as his regard fell to my lips.
“The hair is what got my attention,” he insisted, once our eyes were locked again.
A yielding sort of smirk spread across his lips as he conceded, “But… the pretty face is what kept it. I’ve never seen you before, so… I was curious.”
“Finally, he admits it!” I laughed, dropping my hand onto his knee and squeezing. “I love it when I’m right!”
“It’s all good,” he granted. “Live it up at my expense, I can take it.”
Still grinning, I told him, “So can I…” with a wink that made him suck in a little breath before he pulled his bottom lip between nice, even white teeth.
“You’re really not from around here are you?”
Christina C. Jones is a modern romance novelist who has penned almost 30 books. She has earned a reputation as a storyteller who seamlessly weaves the complexities of modern life into captivating tales of black romance.
Prior to her work as a full time writer, Christina successfully ran Visual Luxe, a digital creative design studio. Coupling a burning passion to write and the drive to hone her craft, Christina made the transition to writing full-time in 2014.
Christina has attracted a community of enthusiastic readers across the globe who continue to read and share her sweet, sexy, and sometimes scandalous stories.
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