The Lovers' Retreat

This excerpt is the first chapter of my first interracial romance. Ramona Adams is in for a huge shock when she's sent to a conference for her job and nothing is like she expected.


I'm planning to release this novella within the next month. Of course, the cover art hasn't been finalized but I'm too excited to know what you think about this project to wait for that.

Chapter One: 

An Unexpected Twist

Ramona stared at the itinerary for the conference she was scheduled to attend in a couple of days. It was a good thing she hadn’t set the information packet aside, assuming it was simply the information she’d already seen. After reading the notation at the bottom of the page twice, double-checking the original email from the previous week, and thinking about the conversations she’d had with her supervisor, nothing made sense. The conference is in the Virgin Islands. There will be plenty of down time and access to shopping, night clubs, horses, swimming pools, and a casino. Please be sure to pack the appropriate clothes. Really?

She sent her boss an email questioning the details and got an almost immediate reply that he was sure everything was fine. That was all? She tamped down the temptation to call him. He’d been in back-to-back meetings for several days and probably wouldn’t appreciate being distracted.

When Caleb had given her short notice to replace him at a week-long business conference, it hadn’t bothered her. Of course she could go. It wasn’t as though she had a life. No husband or boyfriend to complain. No children to make arrangements for. No parents to tell her she was working too hard and that the company was taking advantage of her. Otherwise, she’d fill her empty evenings and weekend as she usually did, going over projects and forecasts. It was either that or let her mind drift to thoughts of the relationship she wanted but knew she’d never have.

Yeah, she needed a break.

Would she be expected to participate in all of those activities? She’d never been on a horse. Did she even own appropriate swimsuit? With her reddish-brown skin and frizzy deep brown hair that she worked hard to tame, sunbathing and swimming weren’t high on her list of leisure activities. Oh well, she was the well-paid Assistant to the Chief Financial Officer of a midsize corporation. It was a dream job that she loved. With a soft sigh and a slight shrug, she admitted to herself that she would always do whatever was needed to make them look good.

Last minute instructions required an emergency shopping trip. Thankfully, her best friend Marisa was able to rearrange her schedule and take the afternoon off. After a quick lunch and four stores, Marisa was passing garments over the wall of the dressing room and chatting while Ramona tried on item after item.

“What do you think?” Ramona stepped into the area between fitting rooms to check herself in the large three-sided mirror.

“That looks great,” her best friend nodded in approval. “All those hours on the treadmill have paid off.”

“I don’t know.” Ramona turned to get a better view of her butt and firm thighs. The copper color perfectly complimented her skin, but was the swimsuit cut too high? The bikini definitely made her legs look longer, but this was still a business conference, not a Young Black Professional’s singles soiree. “I’m not sure how much skin is appropriate. Maybe I should be a little more conservative.”

“Nonsense! Get both suits.” Marisa grinned and held up the emerald one-piece with a plunging neckline and tasteful cut-out on the sides. “You can always get this cover-up for the bikini.”

“Oh, this definitely requires a cover-up!” Ramona glanced at the sheer coral cover dangling from her friend’s hand. It would look good with the both the green and the copper suits. And it was long enough to come halfway down her thighs.

“How are you supposed to dress for the casino?” Marisa asked now that her friend was back inside the changing room.

“That outfit I wore to Paul’s wedding should be okay.”

Marisa considered the wide-legged chiffon pants and, even though Ramona couldn’t wear a bra with it, a loose gold top that tastefully swooped in the front and back. She approved.

“And, what are you going to do about your hair? The humidity will probably be crazy.” Marisa gave a frown at her friend who was emerging from the dressing room with her natural curls sticking out all over the place. She watched Ramona ruffle her hair with her fingers to fluff them back into shape. Unprocessed hair was not for everyone but this woman wore it well.

Nearly shoulder length with a loose curl pattern, her hair looked like she always had a personal stylist. Quite honestly, if Marisa was confident that her hair would look anything like her friend’s, she might give up the relaxer and go natural, too. Nah—natural was too much work.

“Well,” Ramona was saying, “I’m going to wear it like this and hope I won’t actually be expected to get in the water.” She frowned at the swimwear and tossed it into the cart before she could change her mind. “For the casino, I’ll probably pin up the back because it could get a little hot if the place is crowded. And also, I want to show off that swooping neckline.” She laughed. “Now, if I actually get up enough courage to ride a horse, I’ll just slap a band on it to keep it out of my face.” She flung her purse strap onto her shoulder and shrugged. “I’m going to bring my Kindle and spend as much time as possible relaxing with a good book. Hopefully, there will be plenty of time when my presence won’t be required.”

“That’s so boring!”

“I never claim to be an exciting person, and you didn’t just meet me. Plus, you used to be as much of a workaholic as I am.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I feel a little unsettled by this whole social element to the agenda. I try to keep my professional and social lives separate.”

“What social life?” Marisa laughed. “Three dates in two months, Sunday dinners at my house, and babysitting my bad-ass three-year-old so I can have a date night with Bryan is not the same as socializing.”

Ramona laughed, too. Her friend was right.

It wasn’t as though she hadn’t tried to have a life outside of working and exercising. It was just that the same old cliché kept catching up with her—men wanted a woman who could look up to them and need them, not one who was opinionated and made more money than they did. She never talked about money, but one guy had straight out told her that it was obvious by the way she handled herself that she definitely wasn’t the type of woman to hang out at happy hour waiting on some man to buy her a drink. “And no offense,” he’d added, “but you don’t throw off that booty-call vibe.”

“No offense taken.”

She didn’t want to be short-time fling or the girl on the side, even though she had one “sex-buddy” that she suspected was serious about someone else. Hey, everyone had their exceptions. But she needed something more than a man that could stimulate her body. She wanted to debate about politics and have the occasional candle-light dinner. Little red glass globes with floating tea light candles didn’t count.

Marisa’s husband, Bryan, had tried to hook Ramona up with some of his friends. Whether they had been black, Hispanic, African, or white, none of them had clicked with her. Too many professional men spent too much time talking about their professions. No one took the time to know that she liked to bowl, that she could talk football with the best of her male friends, loved shooting tequila and good whiskey as long as she didn’t have to drive, and was a junkie for action movies. Typical man things, right? Hang out with the boys things, right?

Bryan’s friends were nice, but they seemed to be more impressed with the fact that she was beautiful, intelligent, and career minded. They always seemed to compliment her on her ambition without understanding that being a workaholic hadn’t been one of her life plans.

Ramona also wondered whether, even though she didn’t consider herself to be shallow, the dating cliché worked both ways. Was she only interested in a man who made more money than her, lived in a bigger house, and looked good at the work-related socials she periodically attended? She didn’t think so. That would mean she was also looking for an obsessed partner, and that wasn’t true. Two workaholics simply wouldn’t have time for raising a family, and she definitely wanted to have children. The corporate grind was becoming less and less satisfying. She would be willing to cut back on her obligations to her company, but would he? She didn’t want parenthood to be a one-sided priority. She wanted an old-fashioned family with two parents, three kids, and lots of love.

If only the one guy she liked was an option. Oh well ...

She sighed, paid for her purchases, and treated her best friend to dinner.