Love on the Rebound

by Aries Skye

Genres: African American Women's Fiction; African American Romance

Synopsis

A romantic chase in which a fitness guru falls for a full-figured paralegal, however, her self-esteem and past relationship struggles leaves her doubting if Mr. Fitness is Mr. Too-Good-To-Be-True.

After Angela Richards’ fiancé abandons her for another woman, she is left with the lingering aftershocks that keep her heart sealed off from love. To the outside world, she is the same fiery and sassy spitfire woman with a larger-than-life attitude of the norm, but personally, she immerses herself in a contented existence while living vicariously through her sisters, Nissi and Aquila. Besides, it’s easier to mind their business than deal with the devastation of her own.
 
Enter Kinston Jordan. He’s quiet, handsome, rugged, and a renowned fitness instructor. He’s also the older brother of her sister Nissi’s soon-to-be husband, and he has his sights set on Angela. The only problem—Angela refuses to travel down heartbreak lane again, especially with a man like Kinston. How could a fitness guru have eyes for a full-figured woman? Unbeknownst to Angela, Kinston has his own pitfalls with love and just as many reasons to protect his heart as she does.
 
Can these two wounded souls rebound from their past to find love in their future?

Release date: November 26, 2024

Publisher: Black Odyssey Media

Print pages: 288

Sample

Prologue

Angela

“One time for the birthday chick! Two times for the birthday chick! Three times for the birthday chick! Fuck it up if it’s your birthday, chick! Ayyyyeeee!” My friends and I screamed the lyrics as I dropped down into a twerk move with money raining down on me.

It was a rare occasion for us to turn up like we were in college, but my thirtieth birthday was more than worth the reminiscent party days. I may not have been as agile on my feet as I was back then due to a few extra pounds of sexiness, but these wide hips, thick thighs, and curvy backside held all that extra lusciousness to sheer perfection tonight. All of my BBW beauty was on full display in this fitted one-strap jumpsuit, and I knew I looked amazing as I felt my rump spinning with the beat of the song. I may not have always been secure in my body—although many women often told me they’d kill for my body type—but tonight, my confidence was on a hundred thousand.

By now, we were at club number three, and I was two sheets to the wind as liquor sloshed around in my belly. My sister, Aquila, tapped out on me after the first club, claiming she had to get home to her boys. I understood that as the mother to a four-year-old and a two-year-old little boy, her mommy duties superseded everything, especially with a husband like hers. Joel Oliver, restaurateur to the stars, always found a reason to be missing in action. Even knowing that his wife had planned to spend time with her sister on her birthday, he still didn’t approve or change from his selfish antics. I loathed that man with every fiber of my soul. Hell, our entire family did. Truth be told, I believed Aquila did too, but until she faced the reality of her failing marriage head-on, there was nothing anyone could do about it but accept it. So, although I was perturbed, I hugged her tightly and gracefully allowed her to go about her merry way. At least I still had my other sister—my ride-or-die bish—our baby sister, Nissi.

That was . . . until the end of club number two.

She’d broken the news that she’d promised her fiancé, Kannon, she wouldn’t be out too late. Since she’d been with me from seven that evening, and it was a little after midnight, she explained that she needed to get home to her man. If I didn’t love those two together, I’d be highly upset, but they were so stinking cute as a couple, and I adored Kannon. They’d recently purchased a brand-new home and were living together. Although our parents weren’t too excited about them shacking up, the fact that they were only three months away from exchanging nuptials soothed their concerns. I knew Nissi was caught up in all of her premarital bliss, so I overlooked the fact that she was also abandoning me to get home to her soon-to-be husband. I couldn’t blame her. I knew she was about to do something that I only wished I could do—blow her back out. Because that Kannon Jordan was fine, and from the kissing and telling my sister provided us with, he was a certified Gold Medal Champion in bedroom sports. I gave her my blessing to leave as long as she promised to get some for me too. And you better know she made that promise!

Now, it was my best friend, Nia, me, and a few of our girls from our old college days holding down the party on this last stop . . . before we crashed and regretted everything the next day.

“Here’s one more drink for you, my girl! Happy thirtieth birthday, babe!” Nia shouted over the blaring music, handing me a small fishbowl as our other girls cheered.

“Yassss, sis!” I screamed, taking the concoction. “What’s in it?”

She shrugged. “The bartender said it’s his specialty and to make sure you don’t drive anywhere after you drink it.”

Challenge accepted. I sipped, and the flavors that touched my palate were fruity and delicious. Reclaiming the straw with my lips, I gulped that beverage down, thinking that the bartender seriously needed to learn how to make stronger drinks. While it was the best-tasting mixed concoction I’d had, it lacked the powerful punch of alcohol.

“Girl, did you drink that entire fishbowl in one swig?” Nia asked as we danced while she looked on in amazement at my empty bowl.

“That drink was weak. You should get your money back.”

She grabbed the glass and placed it on the bar as I turned back to the crowd to dance some more. The music turned up at least ten notches in the middle of slow grinding on one of my friends. I could’ve sworn everyone swarmed around me, and as another twerk song came on, I dropped down, busting it wide open on the dance floor. All kinds of men were slinging bills at me as I scooped them up and clipped them to the remaining cash pinned to my birthday button. When I finished putting on my performance, I saw a face staring and grinning at me that I hadn’t seen in two years.

Nigel.

As much as I hated the sight of his face, he looked good. I’m lying. He was fine as hell. His rippling muscles bulged through the silk button-down, and he’d grown a goatee, making his deep chocolate tone appear even more godlike. I wouldn’t dare look farther down than his chest, and shit, I didn’t have to. Whether desired or undesired, his effect on me was potent from the current visual alone. If I could describe Nigel in one word, it’d simply be . . . divine. His mesmerizing eyes drew me in like a snake charmer, and as I sexily walked toward him, he seemed to move my way simultaneously, the laws of attraction connecting us like an invisible magnetic force field. When we met in front of each other, I fell into him, placing my hands on his sexy pecs.

“Hey, you,” I cooed.

“An—ge—la Richards.” He stretched out my name, his sexy African accent on full display as he stood there looking like M’Baku, instantly making me want to indoctrinate myself into the Jabari tribe. #WakandaForever and ever. “It’s good to see you, baby. Happy birthday.”

My hands patted the rippling muscles of his broad chest before I walked my fingertips up to the base of his neck. “Aww, you remembered little me’s birthday?”

His thousand-watt smile was on full display as he nodded. “How could I ever forget? I’ve only been knowing it now for nearly twenty years. Even if I didn’t, I think the birthday button and birthday queen sash would be a dead giveaway.”

I giggled, and my forehead dropped onto his chest. “You’re so funny, Nigel. I’ve always loved that about you.”

“And you’re drunk.”

Pouting, I wagged my finger. “Not drunk. Tipsy. Just un poquito,” I said, squeezing my index and thumb together before I stumbled in my clear block heels, causing us to fall against the wall.

“Yeah, it’s time for you to go home. Listen, I’ll take you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet. I came with my friends, though.” When I tried to swing around to look for them, I almost lost my balance again.

“Yeah, you’re done here,” he said as he slowly guided me back toward Nia. Once we reached her, he whispered something to her.

Nia gazed at me in protest. “I don’t think so, Nigel. We came together. We leave together.”

Nigel’s face contorted. “I’m perfectly capable of escorting Angela to her house.”

Nia rolled her neck and her eyes. “And I don’t trust you. It’s not like you did a great job protecting my girl in the past. By the way, how’s Leticia?”

“Go screw yourself, Nia,” Nigel spat.

“Nah, that’s what you were doing with Leticia. I got my girl.” She tried to muscle me from Nigel’s grip.

Too tipsy at this point to care, I shrugged at her. “It’s okay, girl. He can take me home. I’ll be fine.”

“Angela!” she shrieked.

“I wanna go with Nigel,” I whined.

Nia eyed me for the briefest of moments before her facial expression showed her forced concession. Her attitude was on full display as she pointed her finger into his face. “You better call me as soon as you drop her off, and that’s all you better do. I’m not playing with you.”

“Whatever, Nia,” Nigel said, securing me in his embrace. “I’ll call you.”

“Bye.” I wiggled my fingers at Nia, who shook her head at me for a reason my foggy brain couldn’t comprehend.

As I left the club with Nigel, I waltzed and sang all the way to his G-Wagon. Inside, I sank into the comfortable leather seats as he got in on the driver’s side and pulled off. The music pumping through the speakers had me completely enthralled as I sang and swayed to my heart’s desire. That was . . . until I felt Nigel trying to get me out of his truck.

“Wait. What happened?” I asked groggily and confused.

“Two lyrics into a City Girls’ song and you passed out in my truck. I know it’s your birthday, but you should know not to get this plastered, Angela,” he fussed as he helped me down.

“But it’s my birthday,” I sang as he helped me to the front door of my townhome.

Ignoring me, he slipped the wristlet off my arm and fished around for my keys as I stood on my front stoop, still dancing and singing as if I were in the club.

“You hoes be trippin’ like I won’t bat you in yo’ shit!” The lyrics in my head boomed out of my mouth with extra loud emphasis. Nigel opened the door and spun around quickly to clasp his hand over my mouth, simultaneously catching me before I fell over in my heels.

“Let’s get you inside before your neighbors call the cops. It’s three in the morning.”

His strong embrace engulfed me as he lifted me over the threshold and inside my place. Nigel secured me in his arms before kicking my door closed and locking it. All I could do was hang on for the ride as he carried me upstairs and placed me on the bed in my master bedroom. Nigel carefully removed my heels as I fell back in a fit of giggles for reasons unknown even to me.

“Nigel, I feel like I’m flying,” I wailed, spreading my arms out and making pretend snow angel wings on top of my comforter.

“I’ll bet, as high as you are off that fishbowl,” he said, picking up my cell phone and scrolling to Nia’s number. “She’s home,” he said after a few seconds. I heard Nia yelling something, but I couldn’t understand what she said.

I sat up as Nigel said something back to her and ended the call. He stood there rubbing his temples, looking as sexy as ever. Just watching the defined physique of his back, his masculine thighs in those fitted slacks, and his corded biceps lit an inferno in my puss, reminding me just how long it’d been since she’d had a milk bath. My mind battled my body, competing to stop me from what I yearned for, but as I lifted from my seated position, it was clearly my body that won. Nissi wouldn’t be the only one participating in the athletic competition tonight. I was about to Simone Biles in this bedroom. Before Nigel could turn to face me, I was on him, planting kisses against his back.

“Aaang.” A strangled moan escaped as he stretched my nickname before turning to face me. “What are you doing?”

I lifted his shirt, planting soft kisses against his washboard abs before my lips parted and whispered, “Trying to have a little birthday sex.” Before he could interrupt my mission, I glided my tongue to circle his nipples and licked.

“We can’t—”

His words were muted when I gripped his growing erection. As I eyed him, massaging him through his slacks, he swallowed roughly, and his head fell backward—face to the ceiling in ecstasy. No words came from my mouth as I turned him, backed him to the bed, and pushed him onto it.

“Angela, we shouldn’t do this.” The words barely croaked out.

Ignoring him, I straddled him before bending to kiss him. There was no subtlety in my movements. Everything was urgent, as urgent as the need to douse the inferno blazing between my thighs. Our tongues danced as I hungrily lapped at his lips. He still tasted so good. By the time I lifted my lips from his lips, his resolve had dissipated. With excited enthusiasm, he unzipped my jumpsuit as we continued exploring the depths of each other’s mouths. Moaning and groaning in familiar and excited anticipation, he took control, flipping me over on the bed and peeling the jumpsuit off me. Pantyless and braless, I lay before him as there had been no room for either in the painted-on outfit.

He sucked his teeth as he stared at me longingly. “Shit, Angela.”

I scooted back on the bed, and my head was spinning, but I didn’t care. I wanted Nigel. He leered before pulling his shirt over his head and pushing down his slacks and boxers. Once he’d kicked out of them, he reached to the nightstand and opened the bottom drawer, retrieving a condom.

“Still in the same place, I see,” Nigel noted as he sheathed himself.

I bit my lip and nodded slightly before lying on my back. When Nigel climbed on top of me, he bent down and ravished my neck. He still knew exactly what ignited me. My legs opened as if they were on an automatic timer, and I could feel his thickness at the apex of my sex. It’d been so long since I’d been pleasured, and Nigel felt just right to me. Without warning, he flipped me on all fours.

“This is what you want?” he asked gruffly, pulling my hair until my head came back, and he smacked my round derriere. “Still got a luscious ass, I see.”

“Yes, Nigel. I want you.”

Those words from my lips crumbled the barrier between us. His thickness pushed into me with force and took my breath away. The pain that ripped through me was quickly replaced with pleasure as he rocked into me with skilled determination. Nigel felt so good, better than I remembered. Our sex sounds and grunts took me on a euphoric high, and I was floating. Floating so high, I could’ve sworn I’d ascended. My mind began to fog as I felt my climax nearing.

“Nigel,” I whimpered, struggling to stay in this moment that felt too good to let go but yet too good to hold on.

“Mm-hmm. That’s it,” he growled, relentlessly pounding my core.

My only recourse was to tighten my hold on the sheets and hope I survived this merciless lashing. With his hands gripped about my waist, he slammed into me with a death stroke, and I shot off to the moon like a rocket. As I faded in and out of the abyss, I didn’t remember anything except vague memories of some of the nastiest and most tantalizing sex I’d ever had in my life.



The light from the curtains filtered inside and beat against my eyelids so disrespectfully. In my sleepy haze, I slapped my hand against my face to stop the brightness. Not only was it intrusive, but it also was making my head feel as though it were splitting. That’s what made me turn my face into my pillow, but I felt a warm body beside me and nearly jumped for dear life. Peering out through slitted eyes, I noticed the one man I swore off for the rest of my life lying stark-naked beside me.

“Nigel?” I mumbled to myself as I scooted away from him. Lifting the comforter, I saw that I was also naked, and that’s when I realized that my six-hundred-dollar salon hairstyle was a hot mess on top of my head. “What did I do?” I asked softly. Clearly, that drink from the bartender was some type of island specialty. Never again.

Nigel stirred, and I had to admit that he was still as sexy as ever. Although I’d sworn this man to the pits of Hades, considering what obviously happened last night and how my emotions were churning right now, I guess I had decided to take up residence in the fiery cave with him. My mind began to flash back over last night with everything we had done, and I had to admit that despite my previous feelings, I wanted this man right here and now. We had to have worked some things out before working each other out. That’s the only way I could assess him being in my bed. It’s the only way I would’ve ever let him back in my bed.

Nigel—in my bed. Again. Wow. That was a turn of events I never expected, but how could I be surprised? We’d been lovers for years. He was my first love. He took my virginity. He was my fiancé. Ex-fiancé. A familiar giddiness came over me as I lay there watching the rise and fall of his chest and listening to his light snores. Nigel was back in my bed. Perhaps we could make things work this time and call me a simp, but I low-key wanted to work on us. I hated to admit it, but I’d missed him so much over the past two years. If he were down to give us another chance, I’d try. I’d try for him.

I snuggled up against him with a smile and lay my head on his chest. I couldn’t believe he was back in my arms. Deep down, I always knew that Leticia was just a fun time. Nigel and I had a history. I was the one in his heart for the long term. I knew he couldn’t stay away from me. I knew it.

“Shit, I fell asleep.” I heard his deep tenor say as he attempted to clear his voice.

“It’s okay, babe. You can rest, and I can make us some breakfast when we get up,” I said as I snuggled against him.

“Rest? Breakfast?” He exhaled. “Angela, get up, please.”

I sat up on my elbow and gazed at him. “What’s wrong, Nigel?”

He sat up straight and looked at me as he beat his balled fist against his forehead. “I wasn’t supposed to stay. I was supposed to drop you off and leave. I got caught up because you were kissing me, and the shit felt good—”

“And I can make you feel good again,” I said teasingly.

He tossed the comforter from over him and stood up in all his naked glory. “No, you can’t. I should’ve been stronger than this,” he fussed at himself as he moved to put on his clothes.

“Wait, Nigel. I’m a little muddled from last night, but I’m sure we talked about this or had some sort of discussion . . . didn’t we?”

He whipped around, eying me with astonishment. “Talk? Outside of nasty talk? No.” He scoffed, placing his hands on his waistline. “Do you even remember what happened?”

Shrugging, I sat up completely. “Not really.”

He shook his head in angst. “Of course you don’t.” He turned to me, now fully clothed. “You were at the club last night. I popped up there because I was blowing off steam, and we ran into each other. You were extremely drunk, so I volunteered to bring you home against Nia’s wishes, but you insisted. I was only going to make sure you were in the house and safe, but you started kissing me. My head wasn’t in the right space, so I gave in, and we had sex, I mean, incredible sex, until the wee hours of the morning. I was supposed to leave, but I was exhausted, and I guess I passed out.” He hit his head with an open palm. “Fuck.”

I stared at him a moment. This wasn’t the ideal situation for either of us. There was much that we needed to iron out, but the universe didn’t make mistakes. For us to end up here on my birthday, after all we’d been through, made me feel as if what we had was worth the chance again.

“Well, Nigel, maybe it was a sign that we can start over. We’ve known each other for years, since the sixth grade. We were in love at one time. I was supposed to be your wife. Perhaps this is a sign that we can get it right this time.”

He stared at me incredulously. And then laughed. Outright laughed in my face. “Angela, are you all right?” I eyed him in disbelief before he continued, “No, seriously. Because you know damn well I’m not trying to get back with you. I can’t even believe I allowed myself to sleep with you.”

His reaction stirred up deep-seated hurt I’d momentarily forgotten because of my genuine love for this man. The intensity of his words caused me to grip the comforter over my body. For years, even after our breakup, I kept trying to convince myself that the Nigel I knew growing up and loving most of my life was still there, just a bit misguided. I still held on to that belief—a belief that I had denied to others and was utterly ashamed to admit that I still held.

“Then why did you?” I spewed angrily.

“Because I was angry, horny, and you wanted it so damned bad!”

“Apparently, you wanted it too!”

He threw his hands up. “I’m still a man, Angela. Any man would take the opportunity for free and available sex, especially from someone he’s had before.”

My head cocked back at his sheer audacity. How dare he say that to me. We became best friends in the sixth grade after I beat up a boy for bullying him about his weight. He’d always been overweight until a few years ago. Back then, I’d befriended him and fell in love with him, even when he was at his highest weight of three hundred pounds at six feet tall, and I loved him unconditionally. He was my chocolate teddy bear. I accepted him when society rejected him because of his weight, and now, he stood there speaking to me as if I were the scum underneath the bottom of his Ferragamo slipper.

Before I could speak, he did. “Don’t act surprised, Angela. You know how I feel. I made that known when I left. I can’t be with a woman who doesn’t take her health and body seriously. And from the looks of it, you’ve gained a few extra pounds since our breakup.”

Tears threatened to well in my eyes, and I closed them to keep them from falling and to keep me from lunging out of the bed and choking the life out of him. He’d made the decision to lose weight and live a healthier lifestyle, and his way of encouraging me to take the journey with him was to insult my weight and eating habits. It pushed me further and further away from something that we could’ve embraced as a couple. As he soared, conquering his lifetime battle with weight gain, I sank further into depression at our crumbling relationship. I was losing not only my first love and lover but also my fiancé and my very best friend. Nigel became a man I didn’t know right before my eyes.

“Yet, your self-righteous ass had no problem swimming in my guts last night to the point that all this BBW sexiness put you in a sleep coma!” My eyes flickered with flames at his insults. I put up with it in our relationship, but I wasn’t tied down to him now and would not tolerate the disrespect. “Seems like you missed who could’ve been your wife!”

“No, I was angry with the wife I have!” His voice boomed in a roar.

The classic line is that time stood still. I’d always assumed it was a metaphor until those words spewed from his mouth. Nothing moved. Not even the air in my lungs. Literally, I was frozen until my system overloaded, and my body quaked at his words. My lips trembled, and this time, my voice shook at his revelation.

“Wi . . . wife?”

The expression in his eyes softened for the first time since he woke up beside me. He released a sigh and rubbed the nape of his neck nervously. “Leticia and I got married three months ago. Last night, we had a lovers’ spat. I went out to get up under her skin, not to sleep with you. But it just . . . happened.”

Wife. Married. Leticia. Nigel. Married. Leticia. The words swam in my head as I grasped to hold on to the little bit of sanity left. I couldn’t formulate a word. Not a single solitary word. I knew if I did, the waterworks would follow, and I refused to allow him to see that. He’d taken so much from me. He wouldn’t take that.

Rubbing his temples, he explained, “I know you didn’t know, so I didn’t say that to throw it in your face, but the facts are the facts.”

The facts. The facts? Yeah, now I had my voice.

“Facts? I have some facts for you.” I jumped out of the bed and flew in his face. “How about the fact that I always had your back since we were kids? I fought Tristan—”

“Because he picked on me because of my obesity, and you were my girlfriend when nobody wanted me, and you loved me even when I was physically at my worst. Yada. Yada. Yada. I’ve heard it all, Angela. It’s a broken record that you repeated to guilt me into staying where I was not happy. You don’t turn me on! Last night was just as much about me giving Leticia the middle finger as you being a horny drunk. But as I look at you with a cooler and regretful head, there’s nothing there. I’m forever grateful for what you did back then, but it’s in the past. We’re in the present. And my future is with Leticia and not you. She’s my wife, for Christ’s sake. You gotta let that old crap go. The excuses are useless and tiring, and I’m over it. Been over it. Been over you.”

The slap to his face was quick, fierce, and thunderous. It was my first time putting my hands on him, and I realized it was long overdue. As he straightened up and rubbed his jaw, he glared at me.

“Happy now?” he asked smugly.

“Get the hell out of my house! And I hope she stays with you and makes your life miserable for all the days of your doggish life!”

Grabbing his keys, he smirked and shook his head. “Better misery with her than to be seen with you.”

“Get out!” I screamed.

“Gladly.” He turned to leave and stopped at the threshold of my bedroom door. “Happy birthday, big girl.” And with that, he slammed the door.

Those two words jolted me more than the slam of the door. Big girl. After all I’d done, even gifting him my treasure on my special day, he would insult me with words he knew would cut me to the core.

I slid to the carpeted floor in my naked glory at those words as I heard my front door slam as well. The tears I’d been withholding slid down my face, and I snatched the comforter off my bed, wrapping it around me. The dark hole I’d struggled to climb out of slowly sucked me back inside. My goal for my birthday had been accomplished in the wrong and worst way. I expected to wake up with regret from party-hopping and alcohol-binging. Only I woke up this morning filled with regret because the first day of my thirtieth year began just as the first day of my twenty-eighth, with Nigel walking out on me to be with his firm and fit sidepiece-now-turned-wife, Leticia.

Chapter One

Angela

Breathe. Just breathe. Internally, I coached myself. A shrill of laughter caused me to jump as it momentarily brought me back into the present. My eyes closed again as I leaned my forehead against the door, practicing the breathing techniques I’d learned years ago from my bestie, Nia, who was a registered nurse. Panic attacks had been my frequent visitor when my relationship with Nigel began to deteriorate. Since I refused to get counseling, Nia assisted me with information to help control what she’d deemed as panic attacks. They increased after Nigel and I ha. . .