Twists and Curves - A Sexy BWWM Interracial BBW Romance Novella from Steam Books (Romantica)

by Sinclair, Sandra

  Table of Contents

  Twists and Curves Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  About Sandra Sinclair

  Check out the INTERRACIAL LOVE STORIES compilation!

  BONUS - Preview of "Conflict of Desire" by Sandra Sinclair

  TWISTS

  AND CURVES

  Sandra Sinclair

  Copyright © 2013 Steam Books Erotica & Romance

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  Chapter One

  “Have a great weekend. Good night.”

  Yolanda Gray gave a nod at the camera and then rose from her plush red armchair to walk down the carpeted ramp, her perfect smile still in place as she greeted the members of her audience, who stood up to shake her hand.

  This, she thought, was the best part of being a talk show host, which she had only been doing for the past two months. Back when she was a field reporter, she merely told her stories to a microphone, to a camera, never knowing the reaction of those watching the news unless she was summoned to the producer’s office the next day. Now, she could see on the faces of the people sitting in the studio how much they enjoyed her show, how much they loved her, and it was a feeling that filled her heart with such joy it could almost burst.

  She had never thought she would be a talk show host. Back when she had been offered the post a week after she had scored an exclusive, in-depth interview with a basketball player who had just been diagnosed with cancer, she had declined. She wasn’t sure she could handle her own show, especially since it hadn’t even been a year since she had made the jump to national television.

  The network manager, however, had insisted. He was friends with the producer of the weekly talk show and its host at the time was leaving to focus on her third marriage. When the producer offered her the position of being the show’s assistant producer as well, Yolanda had agreed, saying she would give it a try.

  She definitely didn’t regret it.

  She continued shaking hands with the members of her audience, who were mostly women, housewives if she guessed correctly, or women in their thirties who had given up on marriage, or so they gave the impression. She herself had been tempted a few times to resign to a life of being single, already having reached the age of thirty, but knew herself too well to know that she would never be fully happy unless she had a man who loved her by her side, which was why she was still searching.

  She knew it would be difficult to find ‘her perfect man’ given the fact that her figure was a bit on the heavier, curvier side – well, maybe more than a bit – and the fact that she was now famous – maybe not that famous but well-known just the same – but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

  She had a feeling ‘her perfect man’ was just out there somewhere, waiting for her.

  Her smile widened at the thought, but she pushed it aside as she focused on what the women in her studio had to tell her, returning some of their compliments. When she was done, she gave a final wave and then headed backstage, where the crew members were already busy fixing up.

  “That was a great show as usual, Yolanda,” one of the cameramen told her.

  “Thanks, Lewis.”

  He was a good-looking, hard-working man and she wouldn’t have minded going out with him if not for the ring on his finger.

  “Yolanda, I love what you’re wearing today,” Janine, one of the older production assistants, said. “That shade of green looks just divine on your skin tone.”

  “Thanks, Janine. I’ll tell Deana.”

  “Don’t think it’ll look good on me, though,” Janine added quickly, frowning.

  Yolanda chuckled.

  “Good job as usual, Yolanda,” the show’s director, Kathy, said as she approached. “That interview with Joel Newman was especially good.”

  “Thanks, Kathy.”

  “The next show is the one with Roy Carmichael, isn’t it? That CEO?”

  “Yes.” Yolanda nodded. “The CEO of Basix.”

  “I remember those commercials,” Kathy said. “Well, we’ll talk more about next week’s show on Monday, okay?”

  “Monday,” she agreed.

  “Yolanda!”

  Yolanda turned her head to see Caroline Dawson, an up and coming Broadway actress who was also one of her guests that night, walking toward her. “Caroline, you’re still here.”

  “Well, I did tell you that my sister is a jewelry designer, right?” Caroline handed her two bracelets. “I had these in the car and thought I’d give them to you.”

  Yolanda smiled as she looked at the bracelets, laying them out on her palm. “Oh, you didn’t have to.”

  “I wanted to,” Caroline said. “This was my first time to be a guest in a talk show and you really made me feel welcome and comfortable.” She took Yolanda’s hand. “I’m grateful.”

  “You’re welcome,” Yolanda told her, squeezing her hand. “And thanks for the bracelets.”

  Caroline nodded. “Well, I better go.”

  “Drive safely,” Yolanda called out to her as she walked away. “And good luck on that play.”

  “Thanks,” Caroline said before going out of sight.

  “Ms. Gray,” another voice caught Yolanda’s attention.

  She turned towards the production assistant who had just started working there last week, a woman in her mid-twenties with auburn hair and maroon-framed eyeglasses. “Terry, how many times do I have to tell you to just call me Yolanda?”

  The woman clutched her clipboard tightly, clearly upset. “Sorry, Ms…Yolanda. I…”

  Yolanda touched Terry’s shoulder. “No need to be apologize. Have you settled in?”

  “I…I think I’m getting there.”

  “Good.” Yolanda grinned. “So what did you want to tell me?”

  “Oh, Mr. Frederickson wants to see you in his office,” Terry said.

  “Mr. Frederickson, huh?” Yolanda scratched her chin and furrowed her eyebrows. “Wonder what I did wrong this time?”

  “Well, he didn’t seem mad or…”

  “I was just kidding, Terry.” Yolanda patted the other woman. “But thanks for the concern. I’ll go see him.”

  Terry just nodded.

  Yolanda walked out of the studio, up one floor and down a hall to a set of mahogany double doors. She knocked and after hearing him tell her to come in, pushed one of the doors open.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Ah, yes.” Mr. Frederickson turned his chair to face his desk and gestured for her to take a seat in front of it. “Ms. Gray, I have some news.”

  “Okay.” Yolanda sat down.

  “Mrs. Elwood – or should I call her Ms. Lambert now? – has called me to say she wants her show back.”

  Yolanda raised an eyebrow. “She does?”

  “Her marriage failed apparently,” Mr. Frederickson explained.

  “I see.”

  “We are leaning towards granting her request, though we are still wondering if we should let her do a show with you – it might be good to do a show that has both black and white hosts to cover the demographics – or if we will be giving her back her usual show and moving yours to a new timeslot. Your sho
w has been doing well, after all, and so we don’t really want to get rid of it. The latter scenario is more likely.”

  “Oh.” Yolanda was only slightly surprised. True, she had begun to enjoy being a talk show host, but she never really thought she was a perfect cut for the job, unlike Elizabeth Lambert. Given Ms. Lambert’s record, it was understandable the network would take her back in a heartbeat.

  “We will inform you when we have made our final decision, of course,” Mr. Frederickson went on. “In the meantime, please continue with the good job you’ve been doing so far.”

  “Thank you.” Yolanda rose from her seat. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Yolanda walked out calmly. Change was a constant, something that happened all the time in the broadcasting industry, she was used to it. She could even accept that Elizabeth Lambert was a bigger name than hers. It was fine.

  So what was bugging her?

  Yolanda stopped and sighed for a moment as her mind pinpointed the little thing that was nagging at her about this whole thing: Elizabeth Lambert was white and thin, and she was black and thick. It wasn’t that it was currently unfair that Ms. Lambert could shift her weight (figuratively, not literally) around, it was the thought that Yolanda might not even get a chance to be at her level, all because of the way she looked.

  Yolanda snapped out of it. That was negative thinking. If she let thoughts like that dictate her mood and actions her whole life she never would have made it through school, let alone get her this far. She pushed such thoughts from her head and continued on her way.

  She went back to her studio, chatting with some of the members of her crew who were still around. Then, after wishing them a great weekend, she went into her changing room to remove some of her make-up and get into a more comfortable outfit.

  To her surprise, her best friend and wardrobe consultant, Deana, was sitting on her chair, her eyes red.

  “Deana?” Yolanda rushed to her side. “What happened?”

  Deana looked up at her, her lower lip trembling. “Todd…Todd broke up with me.”

  “Bastard,” Yolanda muttered, then quickly gave Deana a hug. “Oh, don’t you feel bad, girl. It’s his loss.”

  “But I thought he was the one,” Deana sobbed.

  “Clearly, he was a disappointment,” Yolanda said, rubbing her back. “But tell you what. I know just the thing to cheer you up.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Well, didn’t I tell you the food here was great?” Yolanda asked from across the table as she took a sip from the glass of wine she was cradling.

  “You did,” Deana agreed, dabbing at the corner of her lips with the table napkin. “And you were right.”

  Yolanda grinned, setting her glass down. She signaled to a waiter and turned back to her friend. “Wait until you taste the dessert. I ordered their raspberry soufflé and hazelnut éclairs. They’re simply to die for.”

  “I thought you were on a diet.”

  “Well, tonight was an exception,” Yolanda said. “I needed to remind you that there were plenty of good things left in life to enjoy.”

  Deana reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “Thanks, Yolanda. You’re really a good friend.”

  “Oh, don’t mention it, girl. You did the same for me when Gil and I broke up.”

  Deana raised an eyebrow. “I took you out to a fancy restaurant?”

  “You bought me a pint of my favorite ice cream,” Yolanda reminded. “Same thing.”

  “How long has it been? A year?”

  “I’ve lost count,” Yolanda lied, trying to keep up the pretense that she had moved on. The truth was she still thought of Gil sometimes, wondering how he was doing and wishing things had ended differently for them. Jerk as he ended up to be, she had loved him for close to four years, after all.

  “Raspberry soufflé,” the waiter interrupted her thoughts.

  Yolanda nodded. “Just put both of them in the middle of the table so we can both get a taste of each.”

  “Certainly.”

  The waiter set down both plates and left.

  “Don’t worry,” Yolanda assured Deana. “You’ll forget about Todd, too.”

  Deana sighed. “I really thought he was going to be the one. I know we’ve only been dating for five months, but I really thought he was special, and I still think he’s cute.”

  “Well, he was cute,” Yolanda said, frowning. “But that doesn’t make him any less of an ass for dumping you.”

  Deana placed her hands on her forehead. “I can’t believe he dumped me. I haven’t been dumped since Richard dumped me back in high school.”

  “Another ass,” Yolanda remarked as she took a spoonful of her soufflé. “I can still remember how he stole the bandana that I left in the choir room, claiming that it was his.”

  Deana gave another sigh. “I always fall for dickheads, don’t I?”

  “Oh, it’s not your fault, girl. Jerks just have a way of making girls fall for them against their good sense.” Yolanda handed the other dessert spoon to Deana and pushed the raspberry soufflé towards her. “Now, eat up. You’ll feel much better once you taste this.”

  “Alright.” Deana said, getting a taste. As soon as she had placed the spoon between her lips, her expression brightened.

  “Told you it was heavenly.”

  Deana could only nod.

  Yolanda chuckled, then started eating the éclair. She knew that her friend was still hurting, but at least she seemed to have cheered up a little.

  She, too, felt like she needed a little cheering up after having heard that her show could be cancelled or overhauled, and for a moment, she was tempted to tell Deana about it, but decided not to. There was a chance Deana could lose her job as Yolanda’s wardrobe consultant, after all, and another bit of bad news was the last thing Deana needed at this point.

  Instead, she decided to bring up her friend’s favorite topic – clothes.

  “By the way, Janine said she loved that outfit you chose for me tonight,” Yolanda said. “And I have to agree with her that that shade of green is absolutely lovely.”

  “I knew it would go well with your skin tone,” Deana said. “Though I think that dress would still have looked better with short, ruffled sleeves.”

  “Speaking of ruffled dress, I saw this top the other day…”

  They continued talking about fashion as they dug into their desserts, eating them leisurely so they could savor every bite. Then, when they were done, Yolanda got up to go the restroom.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, picking up her purse.

  “Sure.”

  Yolanda walked past the other tables towards the sliding door at the end of a small corridor, knowing that led to the gardens where the restrooms where also located. Apart from the great food and the exquisite ambience inside the restaurant, Yolanda adored the French gardens, though she had little time to admire them as she walked quickly towards the women’s restroom, the considerable amount of wine she had drunken taking its toll on her.

  Minutes later, when she walked out of the bathroom, she felt both relieved and refreshed. She decided to take just a short stroll, unable to resist the lure of the beautiful gardens, but had only taken a few steps down the cobblestone path when she smelled the scent of cigarette smoke.

  Wrinkling her nose and not wanting to get the smell on her hair, she was about to turn away, but stopped as she recognized one of the men standing a few feet from her.

  Roy Carmichael, the newest CEO of Basix, the leading software company in the country.

  And one of the guests on her next show.

  She thought about introducing herself, but as her instinct as a former investigative journalist kicked in, she had a better idea. Carefully, she took a seat on a bench behind a tall hedge, covered her nose and listened in, thinking now was a good opportunity for her to get to know Roy Carmichael with his guard down and maybe learn something interesting which she could use in her next show.

  Beside
s, she could not deny that she was curious about the man who had been hailed as the most successful businessman of his generation.

  “That was cracking under pressure right there,” Roy was saying. “He knew the clock was winding down and he panicked.”

  “He should have just given up that ball,” the man with him said.

  Yolanda furrowed her eyebrows. Were they talking about basketball?

  “Well, not everyone can make the right decisions at the crucial moments,” Roy said. “It’s what separates the men from the boys.”

  “Now you’re boasting.”

  “I’m not. I’m just saying.”

  “So I guess you’ve already made up your mind about what to do with Wilbur.”

  “I have a few modes of actions I’m leaning towards,” Roy said. “I’m not going to let him off easy, of course.”

  “Smart and ruthless,” the other man said. “A deadly combination.”

  They fell silent for a moment, letting Yolanda think they were probably stopping to take a puff.

  “So, have you found your next target?” the other man asked when he spoke again.

  “I have.”

  The other man chuckled. “What is it with you and black women?”

  “I don’t know. They just astound me. This next one, in particular, is quite fascinating. I can’t wait to have her squirming beneath me, though I imagine she’ll put up a fight. She seems quite feisty, after all, but that’ll only make things more fun. You can’t call it conquering if the other side doesn’t put up a fight, can you now?”

  “And you pride yourself on conquering. So tell me, who’s the lucky lady?”

  There was a pause before Roy answered. “Yolanda Gray.”

  Yolanda’s hand moved from her nose to her mouth to stifle a gasp, the blood draining from her cheeks. Did she hear him right?

  “I’m going to charm her when I get on her show next week,” Roy went on. “That way, she won’t be able to stop thinking of me.”

  “Thought you didn’t go after celebrities.”

  “Celebrity my ass, she’s not even D-list. Besides, she has these really nice curves.”