Read Online ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Tiger Tamed (Tiger Shifter BBW Pregnancy Romance) (Contemporary Paranormal Alpha Male Romance) by Ava Frost - Free Book Online
Authors: Ava Frost
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Paranormal, Vampires, Ghosts, Psychics, Demons & Devils, Angels, Werewolves & Shifters, Witches & Wizards
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He slipped his body behind me, spooning me tenderly, his lips almost constantly on the side of my neck, and his arms wrapped around me, so that his hands lovingly cradled my swollen, pregnant belly.
We drifted, slowly, tenderly off into sleep, and for the first time in years, everything felt as though it was precisely as it should be.
THE END
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The Lion’s Heart
Chapter 1
****Veronica****
This is exactly why you shouldn’t try online dating. No seriously, if you can’t find love in person, give up. I’m giving up. You should too. And don’t come for me or shame me with the whole bit of maybe it’s just you. When your date turns into a giant lion when he was previously a hot man hitting every spot you needed hit and fingering you to oblivion, you can’t say shit to me. Until then, shut the fuck up.
So let’s rewind about two weeks. There’s me, living in San Francisco, completely oblivious to the shoe that’s about to fall on my pretty and perfect life. Shoe? You ask. Yes, the shoe that tells you when life’s gotten a little too sunny on your side. I had been promoted to Project Manager. Which may not sound like much but let me tell you when you have broken through the glass ceilings of receptionist, assistant and generally avoided having to do sex favors for your boss, you sing praises for Project Manager. It’s also a miracle that I did all this single-handed while never succumbing to the loud but never spoken rule to be blond, super skinny and in love with tanning. Gasp, who wouldn’t want to be a blonde bimbo tottering on red bottom skyscrapers. This girl. Me. I’m tall all by myself, 5’11. You know what a girl like me looks like in 6-inch heels? Desperation. That’s what. Or a second on an Amazon movie set. So, I am content in my bedazzled flats that scream thrift store. I prefer the word antique, it brings an air of elegant remembering versus the only thing I can afford. Also, it makes carrying around these extra 90 pounds a bit easier. I say extra because all my coworkers don’t look to weigh any more than 90 pounds. I think that’s the maximum allowed into their club of sun tanning and tanning lotion. I’ve never been invited because the way my melanin is set up, I’m brown enough. Am I still not making myself clear? I’m black. That’s right. Big black woman coming through and you can bet your ass I’m coming for you and your little dog too if you call me fat. I’m not fat. I’m clothed in more to love. Get over yourself. Just because some aspire to anorexia doesn’t mean we should condemn those who love food.
Now, as I said, my life was wonderful. I was flawless, reread the paragraph before if you can’t understand that. I had a great job, again, see the previous paragraph. I had a lovely apartment. It was the third floor, with an elevator and a doorman doubling as security, perfect view of the water, high rise. On just my salary alone, I’d be living amongst the living dead and crack whores of the street. But I was spared from such deplorable living by my roommate turned best friend, Casey. I liked Casey. She renewed my faith in skinny women. They ain’t all bitches. Well, she renewed it only to revitalize it once more. I’ll explain that in a sec. The last icing on the cake of my beautiful life was my boyfriend, Tyrone. I hear you already, suspicion. I agree, I too was suspicious. How could a black man with a name like Tyrone be any good? I mean, even Erykah Badu said to call Tyrone. But I gave him a chance. He’s a numbers guy. Sweet, but nerdy behind his black square glasses but smooth enough to know how to dance when in a nightclub. Not bumping and grinding, I’m talking actual fox-trot, meringue, and salsa. The brother could do a two-step and he wasn’t addicted to Call of Duty. I almost felt like he was a match made in heaven. Almost, because he didn’t want to introduce me to his family. I mean,
We drifted, slowly, tenderly off into sleep, and for the first time in years, everything felt as though it was precisely as it should be.
THE END
Keep Scrolling for Another FREE Bonus Romance!
The Lion’s Heart
Chapter 1
****Veronica****
This is exactly why you shouldn’t try online dating. No seriously, if you can’t find love in person, give up. I’m giving up. You should too. And don’t come for me or shame me with the whole bit of maybe it’s just you. When your date turns into a giant lion when he was previously a hot man hitting every spot you needed hit and fingering you to oblivion, you can’t say shit to me. Until then, shut the fuck up.
So let’s rewind about two weeks. There’s me, living in San Francisco, completely oblivious to the shoe that’s about to fall on my pretty and perfect life. Shoe? You ask. Yes, the shoe that tells you when life’s gotten a little too sunny on your side. I had been promoted to Project Manager. Which may not sound like much but let me tell you when you have broken through the glass ceilings of receptionist, assistant and generally avoided having to do sex favors for your boss, you sing praises for Project Manager. It’s also a miracle that I did all this single-handed while never succumbing to the loud but never spoken rule to be blond, super skinny and in love with tanning. Gasp, who wouldn’t want to be a blonde bimbo tottering on red bottom skyscrapers. This girl. Me. I’m tall all by myself, 5’11. You know what a girl like me looks like in 6-inch heels? Desperation. That’s what. Or a second on an Amazon movie set. So, I am content in my bedazzled flats that scream thrift store. I prefer the word antique, it brings an air of elegant remembering versus the only thing I can afford. Also, it makes carrying around these extra 90 pounds a bit easier. I say extra because all my coworkers don’t look to weigh any more than 90 pounds. I think that’s the maximum allowed into their club of sun tanning and tanning lotion. I’ve never been invited because the way my melanin is set up, I’m brown enough. Am I still not making myself clear? I’m black. That’s right. Big black woman coming through and you can bet your ass I’m coming for you and your little dog too if you call me fat. I’m not fat. I’m clothed in more to love. Get over yourself. Just because some aspire to anorexia doesn’t mean we should condemn those who love food.
Now, as I said, my life was wonderful. I was flawless, reread the paragraph before if you can’t understand that. I had a great job, again, see the previous paragraph. I had a lovely apartment. It was the third floor, with an elevator and a doorman doubling as security, perfect view of the water, high rise. On just my salary alone, I’d be living amongst the living dead and crack whores of the street. But I was spared from such deplorable living by my roommate turned best friend, Casey. I liked Casey. She renewed my faith in skinny women. They ain’t all bitches. Well, she renewed it only to revitalize it once more. I’ll explain that in a sec. The last icing on the cake of my beautiful life was my boyfriend, Tyrone. I hear you already, suspicion. I agree, I too was suspicious. How could a black man with a name like Tyrone be any good? I mean, even Erykah Badu said to call Tyrone. But I gave him a chance. He’s a numbers guy. Sweet, but nerdy behind his black square glasses but smooth enough to know how to dance when in a nightclub. Not bumping and grinding, I’m talking actual fox-trot, meringue, and salsa. The brother could do a two-step and he wasn’t addicted to Call of Duty. I almost felt like he was a match made in heaven. Almost, because he didn’t want to introduce me to his family. I mean,
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