Make It Last Forever. Gwyneth Bolton

      

      “Listen, I really don’t mean to be too forward. I want to take my time, get to know you, court you, all that good stuff…but right now, I need you to step into the office and close the door.”

      Her eyes widened as she hesitated slightly before moving into the office slowly.

      He followed her lead and closed the door behind them. Then, leaning forward, he covered her lips with his own.

      Her mouth opened and she sighed. Her sweet mouth felt warm and welcoming. It had the taste of sweet cotton candy hot and fresh from Coney Island. He groaned inwardly, letting his tongue forge deeply into her mouth, twisting and turning, charting its path.

      He lifted his arms and let his hands trail her body. She felt so good. Finally he pulled away and took a deep breath. The strong scent of honey, hibiscus and sweet desire assaulted his nostrils.

      And then, with everything he had inside of him, he pulled away. Breathing came at great cost because every ounce of the air was laced with her. He couldn’t stop now. He needed more. He needed her.

      GWYNETH BOLTON

      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 BA and MA in English/Creative Writing and a PhD in English/Composition and Rhetoric. She teaches classes in writing and women’s studies at the college level. She has won several awards for her romance novels, including five Emma Awards and the 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 e-mail at [email protected]. And readers can visit her Web site at www.gwynethbolton.com.

      Make It Last Forever

      Gwyneth Bolton

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      This novel is dedicated to the editors because they make it possible for us writers to make it do what it do!

      To Angelique Justin for taking a chance on a new author and publishing my very first novel

      To Mavis Allen for believing that I—with my little one book sold to another publisher—had a story strong enough to be one of the launch books for Kimani Romance

      And to Kelli Martin for helping me to continue honing my craft and write better books each and every time and for making “revision hell” a little less hellish…

      Dear Reader,

      Have you ever felt a sense of déjà vu? Has your soul ever reached out to someone like it knew the person? Have you ever met someone for the first time and knew immediately that person was meant to be in your life forever?

      Community activist Karen Williams and rapper and movie star Darius “D-Roc” Rollins experience these feelings when a tragedy brings them together. Their souls seem to speak to one another and call out to one another even as everything in their everyday lives tells them they have absolutely nothing in common.

      At its core, this novel flips the script on the old adage that people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. It gives that idea an extended-play hip-hop remix by asking what happens when the same person comes into your life across several lifetimes. Can we really make love last forever?

      I hope you enjoy Darius and Karen’s story. Be sure to let me know what you think of it! And be sure to pick up my November 2010 release, Rivals in Paradise.

      Much love and peace,

      Gwyneth

      Acknowledgments

      Trying to carve out a career in romance while also doing everything I need to do in my other career is a juggling act, to say the least. With national conferences to plan, papers to grade, graduate students to advise and deadlines ever looming, sometimes it seems like I will never get everything done! And oftentimes personal relationships get put on the back burner for my work and writing obligations. So I want to thank my family and friends for understanding when duty calls and I have to spend every waking moment in front of the laptop because the book is due. I especially want to thank my husband, Cedric Bolton, my mom, Donna Pough, my sisters Jennifer, Cassandra, Michelle and Tashina, my nieces Ashlee and Zaria and my nephew Michael. And to all the readers, thank you so much for all your e-mails and notes. When I’m writing and thinking about all the other things I want to be doing, it really helps to hear from you and be reminded that people are waiting to read the words I write. Knowing that you enjoy my novels and want to read more from me makes it all worthwhile. Finally, I want to thank the ladies of Live, Love, Laugh and Books for being the coolest Yahoo reading group on the planet! You ladies rock!

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      “Woowee… I haven’t seen this in ages. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t sharp when I put this on. Girl, you should have seen me back in the day wearing this dress!” Amina Sunyetta held up an African-print micromini dress in front of herself and did a little wiggle.

      Karen Williams looked up from the dusty corner of the attic. She had been doing her best not to sneeze as she helped her friend decide what items to take with her when she moved and which items to give to Goodwill. The attic in the Prospect Heights brownstone was cramped and cluttered with so many boxes that she doubted they would be done by nightfall. And with only two people there doing the work, being done by the end of the weekend seemed like wishful thinking, as well.

      Amina held up a dress that almost looked like some thing the super-skinny 1960s supermodel Twiggy might have worn, if Twiggy had been a black nationalist, that is.

      Amina’s petite frame had clearly picked up a little weight over the years, but it wasn’t too hard to imagine the short, dark-chocolate woman sporting the unique minidress in the past. In fact, from what Karen knew of Amina’s exciting life, Karen would have been hard-pressed to pick anything she couldn’t imagine Amina doing. The term wild child came easily to mind. She envisioned the woman, who now wore a pair of cherry-red sweatpants and a long black T-shirt with red rhinestones, sporting the little minidress.

      Karen moved two of her long locs, which kept escaping from the scrunchie meant to hold back her multicolored locs and hopefully keep them from getting too dusty. She didn’t have time to help her friend all weekend and also wash and retwist her hair. There were only so many hours in the day. And it was really important to her to help Amina. So the soothing ritual of washing, oiling and palm rolling would have to wait until next weekend.

      Most of her locs—she refused to call them dreadlocks, because there was nothing