Gwyneth Bolton - At First Kiss

He had a devilish grin on his face and she knew that meant payback.

“Now, Troy. You wouldn’t do anything to an unarmed woman, would you?” She took a step back, trying to make her way to the bathroom so that she could lock herself in while whatever snowball he was carrying melted.

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Jasmine. Now, are you going to take your punishment like a woman?”

She fell back onto the bed in a splayed position, hamming it up for all she was worth.

“That’s a good girl.” He walked over to the bed and she saw that he hadn’t had snow behind his back. He had an ice bucket. He placed it on the nightstand and started to undress.

His body never ceased to amaze her. He epitomized masculinity. Every ripple and ridge of his frame made her want to run her fingers over his skin. His caramel-colored complexion made her want to lick his…everything.

But more than anything, she wanted to know what he planned to do with that ice.

was born and raised in Paterson, New Jersey. She currently lives in central New York with her husband, Cedric. When she was twelve years old, she became an avid reader of romance by sneaking books from her mother’s stash of Harlequin and Silhouette novels. In the ’90s she was introduced to African-American and multicultural romance novels and her life hasn’t been the same since. She has a B.A. and an M.A. in English/Creative Writing and a Ph.D. in English/Composition and Rhetoric. She teaches college-level classes in writing and women’s studies. She has won several awards for her romance novels, including ten Emma Awards and a Romance in Color Reviewers’ Choice Award for new author of the year.

When Gwyneth is not teaching or working on her own romance novels, she is curled up with a cup of herbal tea, a warm quilt and a good book. She can be reached via email at gwynethbolton@prodigy.net. And readers can visit her website at www.gwynethbolton.com.

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To the readers, who make real to me every day the old African proverb that states simply, I am because you are.

Dear Reader,

Sometimes people meet the love of their life and know right away that they have just met the person who is the other part of their soul. Sometimes people meet and become good friends before they become lovers.

And then there are other times…

Troy Singleton and Jazz Stewart didn’t fall in love at first sight. They didn’t even become good friends right away. Frenemy would be a better description for these two. They tolerate one another because their best friends are married, but that is as far as it goes. And then there’s the fact he’s a player and she’s a serial dater. They are too much alike to ever be attracted to one another. And they can’t be around one another without getting on each other’s nerves. So they don’t ever have to worry about hooking up or anything like that….

Or maybe, they are so much alike that they are really perfect for one another and it will take an act of God or something just as strong to get them to realize it.

I hope you enjoy Troy and Jazz’s journey toward love as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Much love and peace,

Gwyneth

I want to acknowledge my family, because without their support I wouldn’t know what love is or even be able to write about it. Special thanks to my husband, Cedric Bolton, my mom, Donna Pough, my sisters Jennifer, Cassandra, Michelle and Tashina, my nieces Ashlee and Zaria and my nephew, Michael.

Many women have shown me what true sisterhood and friendship is through the years. To my friends who have been there for me through the years and encouraged all of my early attempts at writing and listened to my dreams, thank you. I’d like to especially thank Cheryl Johnson, Elaine Richardson, Jennifer Thorington Springer, Latisha Folkes-Nwoye, Lily Marella Payne, Angelique Justin and Yolanda Hood. Smooches and triple-hold hugs to you all! I’d also like to thank my sista-authors, whose stories inspire and motivate me and whose friendship I count on. And I’d especially like to thank A. C. Arthur, Victoria Wells, Iris Bolling, Deatri King-Bey, Shelia Goss and Ann Christopher. Keep on writing those amazing stories and please keep being the wonderful women you are! Finally, I’d like to thank my sands, because they have been showing me true Delta love and sisterhood since we crossed in the spring of 1990. Thank you Kimmie, Shakira, Antoinette, Edith, Monica, Audrey, Sherita and Karen. I love you! Oo-oop!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

It doesn't matter if you win or lose, it's how you play the game…

Ten years earlier

So the Kappa Alpha Psi pretty boy is late. Go figure…I should have expected that from a Nupe!

Jasmine “Jazz” Stewart alternated between walking up and down the inside of the airport, checking and rechecking each luggage pickup location, and braving the cold Detroit weather outside. It had been over an hour since she had landed, and her ride was nowhere to be found. She was going to be late for her best friend’s wedding rehearsal, all because some cane-swinging Kappa pretty boy—whom she had never met, but she had seen pictures of and had to admit he was too handsome for words—had no concept of time.

Her best friend, roommate and sorority sister was marrying the no-show’s best friend and fraternity brother. She and Alicia were both members of Delta Sigma Theta and had pledged the Pi Iota city-wide chapter when they were sophomores in college. They were now seniors at Mount Holyoke College. From what she’d heard, Alicia’s fiancé, Darren, her cousin Kendrick and the tardy Troy had all pledged Kappa at Howard several years ago, Xi chapter.

Jazz knew that her friend Alicia probably had some hopes of her and Troy hitting it off and Jazz finally becoming serious about one guy instead of dating them and dropping them, as she was prone to do. But if Troy was always this late, he wouldn’t stand a chance with her. She liked her conquests to be prompt.

She glanced at the Coach watch she’d gotten a good bargain on back home at Filene’s Basement in Boston. An hour and twenty-five minutes late! She had never met Mr. Troy Singleton, but from what she’d heard, he thought he was some kind of God’s gift to women. He was probably used to making women wait for him. After making the mad dash to catch her flight from Boston, suffering through the two-hour turbulence-filled flight and trekking through the unreasonably long Detroit airport to get to the luggage claim spot in a timely manner so that she wouldn’t keep her ride waiting, she knew for sure she wouldn’t be one of the many women to fall for his charms.