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Find Me Online – Black Woman White Man Dating Story

Find Me Online - Black Woman White Man Dating Story

Cherelle is fed up with online dating and almost ready to give up. But when a final browse on an interracial dating site turns up a match, things may just start looking up.

Will Michael be the white man she’s been looking for? And will she be keep on what he does for a living? All will be revealed in this online dating romance novel!

Black Woman White Man Dating Story Read It Now

Find Me Online is part of the Mr Online series. You can get both parts of the series here page.

Find Me Online Sample

“Ugh!” Cherelle stabbed hard at the delete button then jerked her hands away from the keyboard as if it were suddenly diseased. An exaggerated shudder rushed through her and she shook out her hands, a nauseated grimace pinching her pretty face.

“What?” Soft, pleasant laughter drifted over from the sofa where Olivia sat, feet drawn up under her, reading one of her many erotic romance novels. When Cherelle twisted in her desk chair and looked at her friend, the young woman laid down the book and gazed at her, a puzzled smile on her face.

“The world is a sick place.” Cherelle shuddered again and Olivia laughed.

“Encounter another perv?”

Rolling her eyes, Cherelle nodded and turned back around to the computer. “There has got to be at least one decent guy on here with more on his mind than how wet I am right now and if I want him to lick me clean.” She groaned. “Gives a whole new meaning to men are dogs.” She laughed in spite of herself.

“Having a problem finding yourself some white chocolate?” Olivia snickered and left the sofa. She walked over to the computer and leaned over the back of Cherelle’s chair, looking at the screen where Cherelle was signed in to an interracial dating site, and currently lurking in a chat room within the site. A couple PM’s popped up.

Olivia pointed at one of the messages. “How about this guy?” A dark smile twisted her lips when Cherelle focused and read the message.

“Oh god!” Cherelle hurriedly deleted the message box. “Yuck!” She smacked Olivia lightly on the arm. “You’re no help.”

Chuckling, Olivia shrugged. “Hey, it was kind of romantic. What woman doesn’t want to be impaled by a man’s broad sword?”

Cherelle winced. “Ouch. Sounds rather…painful to me.” she laughed and shook her head.

“While you’re on there.” Olivia smirked. “How about finding me a big hunk of dark chocolate? A big ole M&M.”

“M&M?” Cherelle cocked a neatly trimmed eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Olivia winked. “A man who melts in my mouth and not in my hands.”

“Ugh!” Cherelle laughed and shoved the woman away. “You’re as sick as the freaks on here.”

“Guilty.” Olivia grinned and shrugged shamelessly. “Oh, by the way, tell my chocolate man I do it on the first date.” She laughed and jumped away when Cherelle went for another smack.

“You don’t need a dating site.” Cherelle rolled her eyes. “You need a street corner. Or a stage and pole.”

“Probably true.” Olivia smiled and nodded.

The young woman returned to the sofa and picked up her book. She flipped her blond hair over her shoulder and searched for her place in her book. Despite her promiscuous play, Olivia wasn’t nearly as easy as she implied. It wasn’t that she didn’t put out, but she definitely made the guy work for it.

Smiling, Cherelle returned her attention to the computer screen, a heavy sigh escaping. She systematically began clicking off the PM’s as they appeared on her screen, each one belying either a creep behind the message, or an adolescent posing as an adult. God, maybe it was true that all the good ones were either married or gay.

Maybe I should go to a gay dating site and pose as a gay man, she mused. But knowing her luck, she’d find a great guy, fall in love…then have to go through surgery to keep him. She shook her head; that probably wasn’t the answer.

“I don’t know why you want a white guy anyway.” Olivia piped up. “You do know that the largest percentage of serial killers are white males between the ages of twenty and forty.” She smirked. “And find a good portion of their victims online…in chat rooms.”

“Well, that’s encouraging.” Cherelle muttered. “Thanks. You’re a great comfort.”

“Just want you to be informed, sweety.” Olivia murmured, her lips curved in a smile.

“I feel much better now.” Cherelle said dryly and leaned back in her chair, gazing hopelessly at the screen. Why are you in such a hurry to date again? She wondered honestly. Can’t wait to get your heart stomped on again? Used and tossed away? Wow, you are a glutton for punishment.

Not all men were Brant McKinley, she reminded herself for the ump-teenth time. And it wasn’t really fair to blame every men for the unseemly acts of one individual male. Still, this didn’t seem to be the place to find Mr. Right. Perhaps Mr. Right Now, but that was about the extent of it.

Cherelle shoved her chair back and stood up. “I’m going to make some tea.” She sighed. “You want some?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Olivia nodded absently, again engrossed in her book.

“You know.” Cherelle said as she walked into the small kitchen. “You might not be such a freak if you didn’t read that smut twenty-four seven.” She grinned and bit the tip of her tongue as she filled a tea kettle with tap water then placed it on the stove.

“This smut,” Olivia appeared in the kitchen. “Keeps my sex life exciting. It gives me all kinds of new things to try.”

“Mm-Hmm.” Cherelle shook her head.

“So did you give up your search?” Olivia leaned on the counter and played with her necklace.

Cherelle shrugged and sighed again. “Maybe I’m just destined to be an old maid. Probably have a whole slew of cats crawling around while I write out my pathetic, lonely life in a diary.”

“Well that’s thinking positive.” Olivia laughed, then poked the air as she announced, “Diary of a mad black woman.” A dishtowel hit her in the face and she laughed again.

The quiet ding of another PM sounded in the other room. Olivia pushed away from the counter and wriggled her eyebrows. “I’ll check it.”

“Why bother?” Cherelle tossed after her.

“Be optimistic!” Olivia chimed then went silent.

Optimistic, she thought with a shade of sarcasm. Sure. Why not?

“Hey, Cher!” Olivia called. “Come here. This one could be a winner!”

Ugh! Cherelle groaned and returned to the living room without enthusiasm or hope that her Prince Charming had messaged her. Olivia’s version of a winner, and Cherelle’s version – were world’s apart.

“Sit.” Olivia grabbed her arm and nearly thrust her down into the chair. “Read.”

“Okay. Jeez.” Cherelle laughed then faced the screen. Her hands rested in her lap tensely as she read the message: Hi, I’m Michael…31…Caucasian. Decently handsome…or so I’ve been told lol. I like animals…own a black lab named Morty (already named when I got him lol). I’m a little bit of a techy but I like being outdoors too…so not a total geek 😉 Sorry, I also tend to ramble when I’m nervous 🙂 haha. If you want to chat sometime…feel free to PM me.

Cherelle read the message repeatedly, searching for the creep hiding behind the words, but sensing none.

“So?” Olivia pressed. “I mean, some of it kind of reads like a personal ad, there at the start. But…he don’t sound too bad.”

Tapping a polished nail on the edge of the keyboard, Cherelle chewed her lower lip. She’d been so intent on connecting with a decent guy, but now that one seemed to have surfaced, she was suddenly extremely nervous about opening a line of communication.

“Well, before you decide whether or not to talk to him,” Olivia leaned past her and grabbed the mouse. “Lets check out Mr. Decently Handsome’s profile. Maybe he’s got a pic.” She maneuvered the pointer across the screen and opened the man’s profile page.

Cherelle’s breath caught slightly when a handsome, smiling face beneath a head of neatly styled blond hair popped up. Her pulse quickened as she stared into the man’s sky blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with a veiled mischief that made her heart pound even harder.

“Oh look.” Olivia grinned. “More pics.” She clicked on the photos tab and five more thumbnail pictures came up. Olivia clicked on them one at a time. They were full body photos depicting an athletic built man with a nice, natural tan. In a couple pics was the aforementioned black lab, Morty. Olivia nodded slowly. “Cute. And the guy ain’t bad either.”

“God.” Cherelle laughed softly but couldn’t take her eyes off the photos. A sudden sinking feeling formed a lead ball in her stomach. “They’re probably not even his real pictures.”

“True.” Olivia admitted. “But what if they are? He’s kind of a hottie – for a white guy.”

Hottie was an understatement. The man was gorgeous – in a natural, down to earth kind of way. Handsome without trying to be handsome.

“So…” Olivia nudged her arm. “Talk to him, before he goes away.”

Cherelle chewed her thumbnail anxiously. “He might be a fraud.”

“And he might be Mr. Wonderful.” Olivia groaned and quickly typed in a response to the man and hit enter before Cherelle could stop her.

“Don’t!” Cherelle growled. The words – Hey…I’m Cherelle – glared back at her below Michael’s initial message.

“There.” Olivia smirked. “The line of communication is open. It’s up to you now, chicky.”

“And if he’s a fake?” Cherelle posed. “How will I know?”

“Ask to meet him.” Olivia suggested simply.

Cherelle frowned. “So soon?”

“Sure. Why not?” Olivia shrugged. “That way, you can see right off if he’s really who he says he is. If he is reluctant to meet, then zap his ass and move on. If he’s the genuine article, he should have no problem meeting for a drink.”

That actually made sense. The last thing she needed was to fall head over heels for the guy then find out that the man she fell in love with didn’t actually exist. “I’ll think about it.” she said. “First…I’ll see how well he does in an extended conversation.”

“Have fun.” Olivia returned to her book. “I’ll go back to Mr. James Chandler and his hard rod of love.”

Cherelle rolled her eyes. “Well, that sounds appealing.”

“Oh it is.” Olivia insisted with a dark smile.

Leaving the woman to her steamy fictional romance, Cherelle flexed her hands then rested her fingertips on the keyboard. Beneath her message was a reply from Michael, telling her it was very nice to meet her and he thought her profile picture was very lovely. Okay, Michael, lets see how interested you really are in ‘me’.

When Michael asked her about her interests and what she did for fun, Cherelle went into extensive detail, to the point that even she was becoming bored with herself. She kept waiting for him to shift the course of the conversation to her past relationships, which would evolve into mild flirting then possibly light sex talk and – Wa-lah! – the creep would emerge.

But the man never took that turn. He seemed genuinely interested in the fact that her favorite color was blue, she was a Pisces, she abhorred watching parades on television, despised football season but never missed the Superbowl, was a liberal and sometimes activist, hadn’t yet evolved from dvd’s to blue-ray, still had a collection of cassette tapes and VHS movies in mint condition.

And about time she began to think he could be for real, and was about to ask him if he wanted to meet for a drink – he popped the question first; I know this is sudden, but would you possibly have dinner with me tomorrow night at the Plaza?

The Plaza Hotel. Coincidence? Or convenience? Would he have a room picked out for after dinner? His version of dessert?

Cherelle’s chest tightened with disappointment and her eyes stung a little, though she couldn’t imagine why some guy she’d just met in a chat room would possibly affect her to this degree so soon. She positioned the pointer over the tiny x in the corner of the message box. It was fun while it lasted, she thought with real regret, her finger resting on the left mouse button. Was she being hasty? Irrational? Making unfair assumptions? It actually incited a bit of nausea to think of breaking contact with Michael. He’d seemed so…sincere, real.

The Plaza? She’d typed the words into the message before she even knew she was going to. Michael responded by telling her that he was in the city on business and staying at the Plaza. And the hotel restaurant served some very fine dishes.

Makes sense, Cherelle reasoned, wanting to believe there was nothing else to it. But…the Plaza? That was a high class hotel. Suddenly her anxiety shifted to Michael’s social status. Neither had really mentioned their work. What if he was some rich guy looking for a woman of class? In an internet chat room? Cherelle drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk, uncertainty grinding her intestines.

“Just go and meet him.”

Cherelle yelped and jumped, unaware that Olivia had left the sofa and was standing behind her once more. “Jeez, woman.” she gasped. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Olivia gripped Cherelle’s head and directed her attention back to the computer screen. “Accept his invitation.” she said slowly with emphasis.

Oh God, Cherelle moaned silently as she typed in her agreement to meet him. Please don’t let this be a disaster.


She had never felt more self-conscious or exposed as she did sitting alone at the table waiting for Michael to show. Her dress felt a little too tight and maybe cut a tad too low in the front. She opted for something more conservative, but Olivia wouldn’t hear of it. Of course, Olivia’s first choice had been much more revealing, and they had eventually settled on the red dress that hugged her slim body just enough to accentuate her curves, but avoided a display of her panty lines – which she wouldn’t have had to worry about if she’d taken Olivia’s suggestion to just not wear panties.

Cherelle twisted her water glass on the table as her dark eyes darted to the entrance of the restaurant whenever someone walked in. What if she had been right in the first place? And Michael’s photo wasn’t really his photo? If he showed up and wasn’t at all as he’d represented himself… what should she do? If he was less attractive but still a nice guy – would she be superficial in walking out on him? What if he wasn’t even a guy? People pulled some mean tricks online. Had she been talking to a woman posing as a man? These days, who was to say?

For what seemed the hundredth time, she glanced at her delicate wrist watch. He was late. Was she being stood up? Maybe he’d come by and discreetly taken a look at her and hadn’t liked what he saw, and just left.

Feeling queasy, Cherelle dug out her phone and messaged Olivia, telling her she didn’t think Michael was going to show. As she waited for her friend’s reply, she glanced around the restaurant again. Everyone seemed so neatly dressed. She felt like a kid playing dress-up who couldn’t quite pull off the look.

Her phone buzzed and she opened the message quickly. Blow off the restaurant and come clubbing with me. I’m at Sparks. Lots of yummy hotties here! 😉

Cherelle smiled and closed the phone. She would give the guy a few more minutes then maybe take Olivia up on her suggestion-

“Cherelle?” The pleasantly deep voice jolted her from her thoughts of escaping.

The above is only part of the first chapter. Get the book here.

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