Chad's Chase (Loving All Wrong Book 2)

by S. Ann Cole

  Hugo pushed his swinging kitchen door open, heading out into the restaurant to close up, and stopped dead.

  Rassclaat. That green-eyed gal, the one who’d followed Chad in there a few months ago, was sitting on top of his cash register with her elbows resting on her knees, well dapper in all-black, hair in a tight ponytail, a half-smile, half-smirk on her lips.

  As sticky as the situation was for him, Hugo couldn’t help noticing how bloodclaat sexy the catty was. Turned right up. Real bad gal, man. Making his cocky harder than a bomboclaat brick wall. No joke thing, the gal pretty like money.

  But what was this intimidating visit about, though? He couldn’t recall disrespecting the catty in any way. He’d only done everything Chad had paid him a fuckload of money to do. His acquaintance Chad was a nice youth. Full of links and full of cash. If that bredda asked him to run through fire he would do it, no hesitation.

  Hugo stood where he was, afraid to make a move, to say a word. His gun was in the back.

  The catty leaned down and punched open the cash register. Took out twenty-four dollars and ten cents, and set it aside on the countertop.

  Then faster than his confused little brain could register, she reached behind her, drew out a bloodclaat matte black Glock, pointed it right at him and smiled wickedly as she said, “I told you I was coming back for my motherfucking change, didn’t I?”

  GLOSSARY FOR

  JAMAICAN SLANGS USED

  Rassclaat/Rasshole/Rass: A Jamaican curse word equivalent to “fuck”, “motherfucking” and “shit.” Also a term used to express shock, wonder and amazement.

  Pum Pum: Jamaican slang for “vagina”.

  Cocky: Jamaican slang for “penis”.

  Bomboclaat/Bloodclaat: A Jamaican curse word equivalent to “fuck”, “motherfucking” and “shit.” Also a term used to express shock, wonder and amazement.

  Empress: Really the wife of an Emperor or the female ruler of an empire. However, most Jamaican men (mainly Rastafarians) refer to a beautiful woman, or their significant other, as “Empress”.

  Catty/Gal (gyal): Jamaican slang for any female.

  Jah know/(sometimes: Jah know star): Jamaican term for “Lord knows”/“Only the Lord knows”.

  Mi don: Jamaican slang for “my boss” or “my friend”.

  Bredda: Jamaican slang for a close male friend.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank You:

  To the One who is the master of all things. The creator of all beautiful things. The One who is Love. The One who is Forgiveness. The One who is Mercy. The One who is Purity. The most high Jehovah…You reign. You rule. You rock!

  To my wifey K. Wignall. Love ya, sweet thang! Always and foreva.

  To Betas TJ, Elaine Tyra, Chris, Em and Kim. Your constructive criticism is what made CHAD’S CHASE what it is.

  To Christopher, for your patience. For not telling me that I’m a nuisance each time I barge into your office and bombard you with questions about my manuscript: “You think this is funny?” “You think he/she is being dramatic?” “What would you do if I spat in your face?”, “Does this sound confusing to you?”, “Would a guy say something like this?”, “OMG I suck at this writing thing, don’t I?”… Thank you for not kicking me out or telling me to eff off!

  To Tirza—I love you always.

  To Matt Rance, for making CHAD’S CHASE all clean and shiny and readable!

  To you, the readers. THANK YOU loads and buckets and loads more for your support. For taking a chance on my books. For not thinking it’s worthless poop! For your lovely, lovely, lovely emails. Sigh. I’m not a known author. Very obscure. And each time I put a new book out there I’m lucky if I sell even one copy on release day…or ever. So whenever I get an email from a reader who tells me one of my books made their day…that’s my high. That makes me forget about all the irrelevant crap and write harder. I love you for loving my books!

  To all I say:

  ONE LOVE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  S. Ann Cole is a passionate writer and reader, and a lover of anything that distracts her from the real world. Reader first and second a writer, S. Ann Cole is an exaggerator, a laugher, sometimes overly chatty, sometimes overly shy. She’s afraid of cats, dogs, snakes—heck, she’s only tolerable to gold fishes in a tank. Because if they do jump out and try to attack her, the suckers will die…

  She hates chocolate, schmaltz and arrogance.

  She loves carbs, Chris Brown and humility.

  She lives nowhere and everywhere.

  Jokey people are her favorite people, as laughter is the way to her heart.

  Never mind her foul-mouth (she’s working hard on changing that!), she loves GOD. Fiercely. And believes prayer is the essence of all good, great, wonderful and miraculous things, and the most powerful privilege given unto man.

  Ann hopes that one day, the right day, when it’s her time (because nothing happens before its time), her hard work will be noticed and appreciated, and she’ll become a “NYT Bestselling Author”…

  Uh-uh. Yeah. That’s what she said.

  When Ann’s not abusing her computer keyboard, you can find her nosing a novel, watching anything on television that makes her laugh until she breaks into hiccups, studying the Bible, or guzzling booze.

  CONTACT ANN

  Twitter @AnnColeRomance

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  Website www.AnnCole.net

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  Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/SAnnCole

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  Facebook www.facebook.com/S.AnnColeRomance

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  Email: ann@anncole.net

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  Sign up for the mailing list for updates, releases, appearances and giveaways:

  http://eepurl.com/vVvW1

  S. ANN'S BOOKSHELF

  Mr. Mysterious in Black

  The Mysterious Man in Black could always be seen sitting by himself in his rented booth of the club that Sadie Francé begrudgingly worked to make a living. The peculiar man wasn't someone Sadie wanted to become acquainted with, because, as irresistibly handsome as he was, he was also eerie.

  So when he persistently continued to request a dance with her, she determinedly continued to shoot him down.

  On her last night, however, she caved.

  One strange conversation was all it took for Sadie to get sucked into the complexity of the sinfully hot, but unnerving, man in black.

  He sure as hell wasn't like any other man she'd ever come across. The man was simply...odd. Sadie could never understand him, his parabolic statements, his weird and inconsistent behaviors, or his weaving emotions.

  Still, Sadie found herself drawn to him, wanting him with a burning need. Why was she so attracted to him? Why was it so hard for her to resist him? Why was it so hard for her to stay away? Why did he seem so familiar?

  As he barged into her life, so did the frequency of inexplicable migraine attacks. When Sadie began having strange dreams, dreams that were her forbidden memories, memories that doctors told her were irretrievable, the mystery behind the man in black slowly, but surely, began to unravel.

  And it was painful.

  Love Has A Name

  A battle for control between two dominant souls. Who will submit?

  Being the daughter of Vince Blacksille, proprietor of a multi-billion dollar armament company, Axia Blacksille is rich by default and holds control over everything and everyone around her.

  She’s her own woman, who has her own money, her own business, and stars her own show. She does whatever she wants, whenever she wants, however she wants, because her life is hers and no one else’s.

  Control is hers. And, as she was taught by her famous, but dark, ex-boyfriend, she never, ever submits.

  Until… Nah, there’s no ‘until’… is there?

  When Axia inadvertently comes eye to eye with the illegally-handsome, cocky, womanizing, Internet billionaire Lovello Nelson, she doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Because if there’s one thing she hates, it’
s pretty boys. Well, that’s her excuse…

  But the slate-gray eyed billionaire, who has Love as a name, is determined to get the stubborn, dark-haired gym owner beneath him and under control. To some extent, he succeeds, of course. The guy isn’t labeled a ‘genius’ for nothing.

  However, at the velocity which Axia and Lovello’s relationship takes off, there can only be one outcome: A heart-wrenching, yet beautiful, disaster.

  For a relationship to work, there either has to be a unilateral submission, or a bilateral compromise. Which will Axia and Lovello choose to save their catastrophic relationship?

  I Choose You

  Trevillo Nelson is a different kind of billionaire. He wears that sharp business suit, but it sure as hell doesn’t fit. He does things on his own terms and lives by his own rules.

  A man of singular tastes, this thirty-two year old, oversexed demon doesn’t do young chicks.

  Are you single, free and disengaged? Sorry, he’s not into you.

  Are you off the market? Well, he’s most certainly attracted. And best believe he’ll seduce your underwear right down to your ankles, leaving you no choice but to give in.

  That’s how the real estate mogul has always lived his life—backwards. But things take a radical turn, both for better and for worse, when twenty-five year old interior designer, Krissan Kingston, walks into his office…

  Precious savior, it’s Angel versus Demon.

  Krissan Kingston is carefree, selfish, and unconcerned with the complexities of life. She lives each day as it is given, uses men for her own sexual pleasures, and then discards them without a second thought. She believes life and people are overrated, so she strides through life with a shrug and a “whatever”.

  Right out of the blue on a normal workday, Krissan Kingston gets summoned to her elusive boss’s office.

  She enters…

  …takes one look at the intimidating man with searing, azure blue eyes and sees only one thing:

  Danger.

  But instead of running in the opposite direction, she runs straight to him, crashing, colliding, exploding, not knowing who’s more hazardous to whom: Him to her, or her to him?

  When temptations arise and they are both tested, they both fail. And before they can even begin to forgive each other, to work it out, those mistakes erupt in their faces, throwing both their lives to the threat of death.

  Will either of them be able to crawl out of their tumultuous relationship unscathed? Alive, even? Will they be able to look past all their ugliness and make it work somehow?

  This is Trevillo and Krissan’s story. The final book of the Billionaire Brothers series.

  Jahleel

  I’m an idiot.

  I’m too stupid to be human. Too stupid to live.

  I lack common sense.

  I used to be a normal human being. Until the guy in the red hoodie. Just a glance, and I was owned. Enslaved.

  What’s worst? He didn’t even notice me.

  Yep. You guessed right: I’m delusional. I’m obsessed. I’m a stalker. A martyr. A masochist.

  I’ve allowed my obsession to lead me down into a deep, dark pit, selfishly hurting everyone around me, and only his requited love can pull me out of it.

  But I won’t apologize for it. I won’t apologize for being in love with Jahleel Kingston. I’ve loved him at first sight. I’ve loved him for five empty years. I’ve loved him through all his bullcrap and asshole-isms.

  I love him even now.

  My name is Saskia Day. I’m British. I’m famous. I’m stinking rich. And this is my pathetic story.

  Read at your own bloody risk.

  Keeping Jaheel

  Note to self:

  If an arsehole tells you he’s yours, believe him.

  If a good guy tells you he’s yours, be dubious.

  Good guys lie, because their ‘good’ reputation makes it so easy.

  Arseholes never lie. Because they have no reason to. They don’t care about your ‘feelings’. They just slap ya’ with the hard truths.

  And nothing hurts more than the truth, right?

  So basically, Hard Truth is an arsehole’s most precious weapon.

  I wish I’d known all this. I wouldn’t have been so distrustful, nagging, annoying, and jealous. I wouldn’t have been the girlfriend every guy hates to have.

  Keeping Jahleel shouldn’t have been that hard. I had him. He was mine. He loved me.

  He assured me of this. Over and over.

  And I should’ve believed.

  I should’ve kept my mouth—and legs—shut.

  I should’ve believed when he told me he was mine, and mine alone.

  Because arseholes never lie.

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