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My Asian Lover – A BWAM Romance Ebook

My Asian Lover - A BWAM Romance EBook

My Asian Lovers is a black woman Asian Man romance (BWAM) by J A Fielding. When Taunya goes to a karaoke night with her work mates, meeting a man was the last thing she though was going to happen. Turns out she was wrong!

Mike is perhaps the most hansom Asian man she’s even seen with the charms to match. Will the couple keep in contact? Find out in this hot BWAM romance ebook.

A BWAM Romance Ebook Read It Now

You can read this one off book over here page.

My Asian Lover Sample

“T.G.I.F., Girl!” Gina sing-songed to her co-worker.

“Sure.” Taunya replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Gina cocked her head to the side and asked, “You are coming to karaoke with us tonight right? You promised, Taunya.”

She had forgotten all about the weekly karaoke night that she’d successfully put off attending for the last month. It wasn’t that Taunya didn’t love to sing – she really did. But, after a long week at work, all she found herself wanting to do, was to relax in a bubble bath with a LUSH bomb fizzing away, sip a glass of chardonnay, and watch the Home and Garden network on her iPad. But the jig was up. Against her better judgement, and riding an unfortunate early morning caffeine buzz, she had hastily agreed to go out with the HR team that night under the guise of it being one of those – corporate speak would call it – “team building exercises” that they were always having meetings about. Taunya nodded at Gina in confirmation.

“Great! I’ll see you there.” Gina giddily replied.

Taunya loved Gina as her work friend and wanted to make her smile. Taunya had always been somewhat of a people-pleaser, but she wondered if she didn’t have the right to be a little selfish from time to time. For better or worse, though, she was stuck for the evening and mentally resolved to steer into the skid and karaoke her heart out that night.

She sighed, brushing her braid-laden ponytail over her shoulder and looked at the mountain of paperwork stacked in front of her. As seemed to be the case for every Friday since she had started her job at Systyx Co., she was in HR Hell. Sure, being the manager of the human resources department must have sounded like a glamorous job at some point, but it was a daily routine from which she sorely desired respite.The pay was fantastic, affording her the ability to live on her own without nosy roommates and she got all major holidays off; however, day after day it was quite possibly the most predictable and boring job she had sustained for this long. It would be three years in March that she’d been manager, having gotten her start there as a temp nearly ten years ago. She was certainly proud of herself for having worked tirelessly to climb up that ever-so-long corporate ladder. Being a black woman in the workforce was difficult enough, but she had ultimately proved her worth and was rewarded handsomely for it. At thirty years old, she was the first one in her family to be a college graduate, she was making great money, and living comfortably. That said, she stayed late even when she didn’t have to, covered when someone was sick, and rarely took vacations. More often than not, she wouldn’t even leave her desk at break time to eat her lunch. She’d been a veritable workaholic up until that point, and she was sick of it.

She want to make the world a more beautiful place. Looking around at her drab office, she imagined a working environment without cubicles, a place of color and imagination. When she first walked into Systyx—for what was only supposed to be a temp job–, as a wide-eyed recent college grad with all the hope in the world, all she could think of was how nice the place would look if someone bothered to spruce it up with some wallpaper. In fact, over the weekend, she had been drooling all over Pinterest looking at a velvet embossed sample called “Kinky Vintage” with a black fleur-de-lis pattern cascading down the walls. ‘Now, if that doesn’t get a worker’s mojo flowing, I don’t know what would!’ She’d thought. Unfortunately, most of her time as a temporary hire was spent hiding out inside of a gray-walled filing room filled with beige filing cabinets overflowing with paperwork. And even though she’d found herself holding a much more senior position those days, her life’s work was—and seemingly would always be– paperwork.

It was three o’ clock and time was going by almost more quickly than she was able to enter new hire data and take calls about employment verifications. It was as if Friday had become the new Monday and it had come with a vengeance. She scrambled to get everybody hired into the system and passed off her overflow to the unlucky temps who wanted nothing more than to traipse on home as soon as possible without a care in their innocent young minds. Meanwhile, she found herself then still obsessing – and would likely continue to do so all weekend – over the issue that had come up on Wednesday with a direct deposit bounce back. Angry co-workers and incompetent bank staff were a winning combination for her most recent stress headache that she’d only just barely managed to fend off that morning, lending itself to the fateful caffeine-induced “yes” that she gave to Gina when the subject of karaoke that evening had come up.

By five, Taunya was beat and ready to go home in spite of the karaoke date she had hanging over her head; however, as much as she wanted to blow it off, she knew that it would look bad if the HR manager broke a promise to the rest of the team. At least she would get to sing. She hopped in her car and headed down the street to the corner bar, Control. Taunya was never really much for losing her inhibitions, but she’d be damned if their head bartendress, Audrey, didn’t mix the best tasting whiskey sour she’d ever had. When she wanted to treat herself – in a place that provided an evening scene that only Billy Joel could adequately describe through song – she knew she could count on Audrey to pour her a stiff one.

She walked in to hear the sounds of some poor geezer butchering Elvis’ “It’s Now or Never”. He was wearing what looked to be a powder blue leisure suit and Taunya could swear he was at least a hundred years old. ‘Lord Jesus,’ she thought ‘if this is the caliber of “performer” I can expect, it’s going to be one long, miserable night.’ Gina caught Taunya in her sights and excitedly flagged her down. Gina was so pleased that she had finally cajoled Taunya into letting loose and coming out with the team. Gina was sitting at a table in the corner, surrounded by men with loosened ties and one too many buttons undone on their work day shirts (revealing sweat-drenched wife beaters) and women who had literally let their hair down out of their neat, weekday sock buns in an attempt to cultivate something of a night look. Taunya hadn’t even bothered to unbutton her blazer before sitting down.

“Get a load of their selection!” Gina said, sliding a plastic binder and a scrap of paper in her direction. She casually flipped through their song book and contemplated filling out the ticket. After all, somebody had to show that crusty old Elvis impersonator how it’s done. She even found a few of her favorites by Aretha Franklin in the book. Of course, there was a huge section of Beatles tunes as expected. There was also an entire page dedicated to Depeche Mode songs and, even more surprising, a small section of Diana Ross songs. She mentally vetoed her idea to give into a guilty pleasure and get down with some Fleetwood Mac and instead decided on Etta James’ “At Last”. Feeling relatively confident, she strolled over to the KJ to turn her ticket in. The whole time, though, it was as if she could feel someone’s eyes on her, but when she looked around, she could not tell whose. Gina cornered her at the bar and offered to buy a round of shots, but Taunya declined. While she definitely loved a good whiskey sour, she was not about to make a fool of herself in front of all of her co-workers. She motioned to Audrey and Audrey came over. She ordered her usual whiskey sour and watched the ongoing parade of American Idol rejects. One woman was deliriously attempting to croon to The Divinyls’ “I Touch Myself” and Taunya couldn’t help but chuckle along with Gina at the ridiculous scene. The poor woman nearly fell off the stage, threatening to take the karaoke monitor and microphone stand with her, but luckily a kind gentlemen hopped up and escorted her back to her seat before she could cause too much damage. Taunya sipped her drink and bantered with Gina about general work-related minutiae, still allowing that bank error to mentally nag at her until it was finally her turn to sing.

“Next, let’s bring Taunya up to the stage. Ladies and gentleman, give it up for Taunya!” the KJ announced in his best Casey Kasem voice.

She removed her blazer and handed it to Gina. Taunya gulped hard as she approached the stage, feeling stricken with a sudden case of stage fright. Rather than let her nerves get rattled, she looked over at Gina who was giving her a gleeful thumbs up and strutted up to the mic, ready to forget all about the work week and immerse herself in one of her most favorite songs.

The intro to the song was sweet and melodic to her ears and she watched the little timer on the karaoke monitor count down to the first words. She looked out into the crowd to see her haggard and steadily inebriated co-workers cheering her on. She could hear whistles from afar and some shouts of encouragement. This was a popular song and a crowd favorite if one could pull it off and belt it well. She thought to herself, ‘honey, if there are two thing I’m good at it’s fucking and singing. Oh, and paperwork.’ But paperwork was about the farthest thing from her mind as she opened her mouth and sang the opening line:

At laaaaaast/My looove has come a-looooong.

She mentally high-fived herself for the pretty vibrato she had going on and continued, trying to really feel the words and imagine herself in Etta’s place: in love with “the one”, with life, and happier than ever. But it wasn’t just love Taunya was after. She wanted something bigger out of her humdrum life and she was singing her heart out, lusting after those dreams that she’d always had.

My lonely dayyyys are over/And life is like a sooooooong. Ooooh yeaaah yeaah. At last.

‘If only life were that simple.’ she thought. ‘If only I could break out of the mundane rut that I’ve been stuck in for the past decade and really let myself be who I want to be. Even if it means doing bullshit work as a designer’s apprentice until I get off the ground.’ But she knew she could never be that risky. She sincerely wished, though, that work weren’t her entire life. She hadn’t had a relationship in years and could barely remember the last time she’d gotten laid. ‘What I wouldn’t give for that kind of release once in a while at least.’ she thought. ‘At last.’

The skies above are bluuuuue/My heart was wrapped up in clover/The night Iiiiii looked at you.

She looked out into the audience, still feeling like she was being watched as before, but unable to identify who it was that was doing the watching. Men and women alike were swaying to her beautiful song and watching her intently as she belted her way through the next verse.

I found a dream that I could speak to/A dream that Iiiiiii could call my own.

She thought again about that silly swatch of wallpaper. She thought about how much she wanted to give in to her dreams and to give up the security that she’d come to depend on for so long. More than that, she thought about who it was that might be watching her and she struggled to remember the last time that she’d had a good fuck. Ah, yes. It was James from her gym – a gym that she hadn’t had time to go to for the last number of months as her team had gotten into their busy season at work. She remembered that he was strong and she thought about how his incredibly toned body smelled of Kenneth Cole Black cologne when he pushed her up against the wall in his apartment stairwell and fucked her right there between floors. It had been a wonderful weekend. That is, until his wife came home. ‘Damn that cheating dog and damn my fool ass for thinking I just might have found perfection.’ She thought, nearly distracted from her song. In retrospect, she knew that she should have known better, but she had been blinded by lust and an overwhelming need for male attention.

I found a thriiiiiill to press my cheek to/A thrill that Iiiiiii have never know.

The audience was wildly cheering at this point and she was momentarily brought back to reality. Her entire HR department was hollering her name and “woo”ing at her wildly. For a fleeting moment, she was no longer their manager but a goddess of song. Her breath tasted like sweet whiskey and she felt more powerful than she had in a long time. She moaned into the mic:

Oooh yeaah yeaah. You smile/You smile/Oooooh and theeeen the spell is cast.

Her imagination ran wildly until it was all just a delicious blur. She thought about becoming a better version of herself. She thought about the proverbial throwing of caution to the wind and running off to find who it was that she really wanted to be and perhaps even getting some good love along the way. She imagined being shoved up against a wall covered in “Kinky Vintage” wallpaper and having her panties torn off, being stripped of her shame and doubt, and giving in to her utmost desires. And then she thought about the mystery man out there in the crowd whose gaze she could not shake, but whose eyes she could not seem to find for herself. She thought about opportunity. About freedom.

And here we aaaare in heaven.

She prepared herself for the big finish, breathing deeply and summoning all that she had to give to the song, to the crowd, and to herself.

For you are miiiiiine…At laaaaaaaaaast.

The crowd was on their feet, applauding the performance and filling her with the kind of energy that her overworked and under-laid self had been longing forever to feel. She smiled and managed a small curtsey and hustled off the stage, not wanting to look like too much of an attention hog. She began to walk back over to the table of her co-workers when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She spun around to find an incredibly gorgeous man in front of her, smiling with beautiful white teeth. He was relatively tall for an Asian man – Chinese she thought – and she was nearly dumbstruck by the look that he was giving her: one eyebrow raised and a cheerful yet seductive grin playing on his lips. She had never seen such an attractive man outside of her own race before. She had never really been one to concern herself with the matter of skin color but had simply happened to generally date black men for the most part. The gentleman in front of her, however, had her singing quite a different tune.

“Hi, I’m Mike” he said. “And yours was probably the most beautiful rendition of an Etta James song that I’ve ever heard.”

She blushed. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Mike.’ she thought.

“Thank you.” she replied. “I’m Taunya.”

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