WEDDING BELL BLUES

PROLOGUE

This isn’t a wedding, it’s a merger between two powerful families, coming together to form an unstoppable empire. This isn’t love, it’s business.

  When I was informed I would marry Shaw, I didn’t bat an eyelash. We’d been ‘dating’ for over a year. Plus, I’d been raised with the understanding I was bred for ‘a greater purpose’. I was educated at the best private schools and learned about wifely behavior from my mother, all with the goal of being the perfect trophy wife. I’ve always done what my parents asked of me, without hesitation or question, and to the best of my abilities. Their happiness is important to me, even if it means mine isn’t. I’m willing to sacrifice it for the betterment of our family.

  I’m a good daughter, a doting daughter, an obedient daughter.

  My entire path has been paved and laid out before me. I’m sitting in the backseat of my own life, my parents at the wheel, while I watch the world flash past my window.

  My father, a politician from Pennsylvania with his eye on the White House, made the arrangement with Shaw’s father, Louis LeBlanc, a wealthy businessman from New Orleans who wants a hand in the political game.

  The first time I met him, he insisted I call him Papa Lou—right before he pinched my backside.

  My father wants his money. LeBlanc wants my father’s influence. Shaw wants me.

  This marriage will be one of convenience and breeding, carrying on the name and bloodline, rather than about needing to spend our lives together, not being able to live our lives without the other by our side. It’s all very technical, mechanical, methodical.

   I’m in front of the vanity, in the bridal suite of an opulent manor in the heart of the Garden District. My hair is done and impeccable, not a strand out of place. Like my life seems to be. My makeup is camera ready, a mask to hide my pain. My dress is elegant, expensive, designer, of course, like my husband-to-be.

  Over the past year and a half, I convinced my heart I love Shaw because I had to. In some faint way, I do. Or I’ve fooled myself into believing I do.

  It doesn’t matter though. Minutes from now, I’ll be his wife…whether I want it or not.

CLICK HERE FOR MORE ➜➜ BLACK MAGNOLIA

GAME OF PRETEND

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Let’s pretend what happened, didn’t,” I suggest.

“I’m down for a game of pretend.” He shrugs, still looking out at the brick garden.

“Good.” I release the breath I choked back when he mentioned our wet, naked encounter.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t want to take you right there in the bathroom.” He turns toward me, his arms crossed on the table, and leans in. “I’ll pretend I didn’t want to bend you over the sink, press your face into the mirror, and fuck you until you release all over me.”

And I’ll pretend I didn’t want you to.

“Greier.”

“Don’t worry, Rae.” He sits back in his chair again. “I know the deal.”

Black Magnolia

2.13.18

⚜ ♔ ⚜ MIDNIGHT SPECIAL ⚜ ♔ ⚜

“Maybe I should’ve gone with him.”

Her comment stuns me.

I’m disgusted and hurt she’d even consider going back to that scumbag. But I remind myself this isn’t Rae talking. Not my Rae. This is her father, her mother, years of brainwashing and training.

“Why would you say that?”

Her arms still folded around herself, she strolls over to the open terrace doors and stares out toward the alley. “We wouldn’t be here. You’d be safe, and I’d be…”

“His prisoner, Reagan,” I cut her off, finished entertaining to the drivel coming from her mouth. “You’d be his fucking prisoner. He doesn’t love you. You’re an object to him, something to possess. His daddy bought you for him, remember? And if you went back, that’s all you’d ever be—” I walk over to her from behind, wrapping myself around her, “when you’re so much more.” Her head flops back against my shoulder with a sigh. I set my mouth in her midnight hair. “I’d rather die than let him cage you.”

“Why are you hell-bent on saving me?” she questions with a sad playfulness and a tremor in her voice, as if she’s dreading the answer.

“It’s my blessing and my burden,” I reply as I had before, but this time, I’d sign my soul to the devil if it meant her safety.

⚜ ♔ ⚜ UNTIL DEATH ⚜ ♔ ⚜

“He’s dangerous, Rae. A monster. Wealthier than God. And darker than the devil. He isn’t gonna give you up. In his mind, you belong to him.”

   She peers into nothingness and whispers without emotion, “Until death do us part.”

    The words tear down my spine.

RUN AWAY FEBRUARY 13, 2018

BLACK MAGNOLIA COVER REVEAL

Run Away 2.13.18

PLAYING NICE

Later, after I’ve bathed the day away, I stand out on the balcony overlooking Bourbon, pearls of water across my skin. A gust of velvet wind strokes the inside of my thighs, blowing the silky material of the blue kimono I’m wrapped in until it dances around my bare ass. It’s delicious and makes me feel a shade naughty. It’s late, and I left the balcony dark, so I don’t see the harm.

  Suddenly, Greier steps behind me and places his hands on the railing, boxing me in with his arms.

  “I know I shouldn’t say this,” he whispers against my neck, “but you have a phenomenal backside. I could bite into it like a juicy apple.”

  His clothed erection grazes it. Trying desperately not to melt like a popsicle, I breathe out an involuntary breath. It caught in my throat when his words brushed across the soft, damp skin of my collar.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.” A mix of cashmere lips and jagged breaths caress the sensitive area behind my ear. I clench my thigh muscles and gird my loins.

  “It’s sweet of you to think of me,” I reply with a shaky voice, cracking at the end.

  “There was nothing sweet about what I was thinking.” His warm mass presses mine into the wrought iron lace. I whimper when it grinds into my clitoris.

  “You promised to play nice,” I whisper between pants, my lungs betraying me.

  “I never played well with others.”

  “You shouldn’t…” I can’t even finish the sentence.

  “Stop me, Rae,” the point of his nose navigates the shell of my ear, “push me away. Order me to leave you alone, to stop thinking of you every fucking second of every fucking moment, and I will. Believe me, it would make my life a lot easier. But if there’s even the slightest chance you want me too, don’t say a word.”

  His teeth quickly bite into my earlobe before his healing mouth smooths away the sharp edge of the sting.

  He sets his hands on my waist and spins me around, shoving me against a support with his body. His lips linger over mine.

  “Last call.”

  My front teeth scrape my lower lip, a half-assed attempt at locking my mouth shut. His warm, soft mouth covers mine like a comfy blanket on a cold night. His kiss is so tender where his hands are rough. Slowly, the dance of our lips deepens. His hands disappear into my hair, his fingers grasping at the roots. My head falls back, and my lips part like the red sea to welcome him inside.

BlackMagnolia

THE BRIDE & THE BACHELOR

“I apologize for being nothing but a burden to you.”

  “Truthfully,” he says, his warm breath brushing against the top of my head, “you’ve been a nice distraction.”

  Goose bumps freckle my skin.

  Speaking of distracting, the way his body molds to mine is doing a very good job.

  “Do you love your ex-girlfriend?” If that question was made of metal, it would be brass. It’s not my business. But it’s out there, looming over us. No taking it back.

  “I thought I did.” He pauses on a breath. “Do you love him? Your…”

  “I thought I did.”

  He’s got the itch to ask me if that’s why I ran. I sense it in the way his muscles tighten and still. That’s what I’d want to know if I were him. And I scratch.

  “He did something unforgiveable.”

    He eases.

  “You don’t have to explain more. Not tonight.” His hand runs across my back. It’s comforting. “But, don’t you have anyone looking for you?”

  “I doubt it.” It’s not entirely true. I’m sure Shaw is wondering where I went. In his eyes, he owns me. I’m sure my parents are looking for me. The campaign fund counts on it. I’m sure Shaw’s family is looking for me. They want their money’s worth. “I’m unloved, unappreciated, unwanted.”

  He clamps a supportive hand on my shoulder. I glance at it and then him, a sincerity on his face. “Maybe you are unappreciated. I can believe that. But there’s no fucking way you’re unwanted.”

  “You believe that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  I cringe at those two simple words.

  “How could you?” I face away from him.

  But he brings my gaze back to his with a gentle coaxing of my chin. “Because I want you.”

  For reasons beyond me—alcohol, the need to feel desired, my attraction to him, D, all of the above—I lift my mouth to his, kissing him with every bit of energy I have after today. Surprisingly, it’s a lot. I mount him, continuing my desperate assault on his lips. He grasps his long fingers around my biceps, lifting me away from him. His eyes search for mine through the mess of black hair hanging around my face. His face tenses as he fights himself. But I feel his want between my thighs.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he says, sincere concern in his expression. It makes me want him more.

  “I need this,” I do need this. I need to feel wanted, to feel want for someone else, even for a few minutes, “and you need this. It’s win win.”

  I’ve never slept around. Every man I’ve been with was a long-term boyfriend. But here I am, on my wedding night, ready to let a man inside me who is definitely not my husband. I don’t even know his last name.

  But I want to come in this man’s arms.

  I want it.

  I want him.

  “Use me,” I plead, my hips grinding into his cock, coming out of the slit in his bottoms.

  He sits up, taking me with him, and then stares straight into my eyes. He presses his palm to the back of my head and the other on my ass, holding me against him. Like I’d try to get away.

  “Fuck,” he breathes out, “you’re so beautiful.”

  His mouth moves in, kissing along my jaw and down my neck. He removes his hand and then the sound of a drawer opening fills the silent room. He continues kissing me, touching me, wanting me. His other arm moves from my ass to around my lower back, and he lifts me up. I hear the rip of a wrapper and the stretch of rubber as it expands over something hefty in size.

  “Greier,” I whisper, my hands finding his face, the roughness of his stubble under my fingertips. His fingers push my panties aside.

  “Reagan,” he moans against my collarbone, entering me.

BLACK MAGNOLIA 

(2.13.18)

© Lena Black 2017

BLACK MAGNOLIA PROLOGUE

Prologue

This isn’t a wedding, it’s a merger between two powerful families, coming together to form an unstoppable empire. This isn’t love, it’s business.

When I was informed I would marry Shaw, I didn’t bat an eyelash. We’d been ‘dating’ for over a year. Plus, I’d been raised with the understanding I was bred for ‘a greater purpose’. I was educated at the best private schools and learned about wifely behavior from my mother, all with the goal of being the perfect trophy wife. I’ve always done what my parents asked of me, without hesitation or question, and to the best of my abilities. Their happiness is important to me, even if it means mine isn’t. I’m willing to sacrifice it for the betterment of our family.

I’m a good daughter, a doting daughter, an obedient daughter.

My entire path in life has been planned and laid out before me. I’m sitting in the backseat of my own life, my parents at the wheel, while I watch the world flash past my window.

My father, a politician from Pennsylvania with his eye on the White House, made the arrangement with Shaw's father, a Louisiana businessman from old money, who wants a hand in the political game. My father wants his money. He wants my father’s influence.

Our marriage will be one of convenience and breeding, carrying on the name and bloodline. Rather than about needing to spend our lives together, not being able to live our lives without the other by our side. It’s all very technical, mechanical, methodical.

I’m in front of the vanity, in the bridal suite of an opulent manor in the heart of the Garden District. My hair is done and impeccable, not a strand out of place. Like my life pretends to be. My makeup is camera ready, a mask to hide my pain. My dress is elegant and expensive, designer, of course. Just like my husband-to-be.

Over the past year and a half, I convinced my heart I love Shaw because I had to. In some faint way, I do. Or I’ve fooled myself into believing I do.

It doesn’t matter though. Minutes from now, I’ll be his wife…whether I want it or not.

Black Magnolia 

Lena Black

AVAILABLE FEB. 13, 2018