Loving a Girl Like You

by Sequaia

Genres: African American Urban; African American Romance; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Fame and love combined can be either the greatest combination or the worst. For these star-crossed lovers, which will it be?

Handsome lyricist Lemere Webster is successful in every aspect of his life except for love. His rap career is soaring. His family is taken care of, and he’s well-respected in and out of the hood. Finally, the work he put in has come to fruition. The only thing missing is the Bonnie to his Clyde. 
 
As for Amree Haylin, she has devoted all her time and energy to becoming one of the top journalists in the entertainment industry. Her love life and men are something she has no time for, her past experiences with men were enough. So, the last thing she expected was to fall for the man who has the world at his feet.
 
Making compromises of the heart, they both vow to try to be what the other needs. For Amree, she finds it easy to make the necessary changes to show Lemere she isn’t like the girls he’s used to. However, Lemere finds it difficult to match her actions, especially with women willing to do any and everything to get next to him.
 
As bad as he wants Amree, temptation still rears its ugly head. Will Lemere be able to change his ways, or will his wrongdoings deny their relationship the chance to blossom into something beautiful after being so damaged?
 

Release date: April 26, 2022

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

The original “Before I Let Go” by the legendary Frankie Beverly and Maze blared through the speakers of the enormous MGM Grand conference room in Las Vegas, Nevada. Amree Haylin, journalist for Extraordinaire Magazine, stood off to the side, watching most of the guests in attendance dance and mingle as she nursed a now-watered-down coconut martini. Generally, she’d never drink on the job, but her nerves were getting the best of her. She was the only journalist from Extraordinaire Magazine in attendance, and as the only one from the team there, she was under so much pressure. Extraordinaire Magazine’s motto stated that every journalist on their team was extraordinary, yet Amree felt that in her case she had yet to prove it. This was her very first time attending such a huge event, and she felt totally out of place and had a good mind to leave. However, there were three things her conscience reminded her of that stopped her from doing so: losing her job, looking as if she couldn’t handle working with the big dogs, and how this was the opportunity to prove she was an extraordinary journalist.

And that was exactly whom she was among currently—a roomful of big dogs. There were well-known journalists, athletes, musicians, actors, and actresses all around her as she stood in a dimly lit corner like a child afraid to enter the cafeteria as the new kid in school. Her eyes wandered around the room, hoping to locate someone looking as lonely as she felt. Then maybe she could at least begin to mingle. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a light flashing from her clutch. Withdrawing her attention from the people in the room, Amree retrieved her cell from her clutch.

Erynn: Why are you texting me when you are supposed to be working? Unless it’s to tell me Trey is there and you got his number for me, I shouldn’t be hearing from you until after the event is over.

She read the message and rolled her eyes. Erynn wasn’t saying anything she cared to hear, and her reply was going to prove it.

Amree: Why did you take so long to text me back? I could’ve been dealing with a real crisis!

Erynn: Girl, you’re in a roomful of success, and you look bomb as fuck! Do your job and stop being afraid to let your Black Girl Magic rock. You are there for a reason, regardless of what doubts you’re allowing to play on insecurities you should not have. So act like it. If you’d walk around and quit standing in one place, you wouldn’t even have to approach anyone. They’d come to you. I’d bet my last dollar on it. Now get.

Amree: Ugh, you don’t know me like that. Fine.

Erynn: Actually, I do. Just read yo’ ass like a book. Lol. Now get to work, but have fun, too. Love you. You got this.

Not bothering to reply, Amree put her phone back inside of her clutch. Then she scanned the area once more. One thing she could be positive about that Erynn had mentioned was that she did look stunning tonight. The black knee-length spaghetti-strap dress fit her size-nine, five-foot-six frame perfectly, putting emphasis on her inherited hips and handful-sized ass. Not for any sized hands either, but the size of hands on a man who wore at least a size-twelve shoe. Only a man with those kinds of hands would be able to properly grip what she had back there.

Her makeup was done naturally with golden highlights that accentuated her smooth brown skin. Her brown orbs sparkled beneath the MAC “I Like 2 Watch” eyeshadow: a mid-tone brown with gold sparkles. The gloss on her lips added a minor illusion to how plump and pink they really were.

Nonetheless, there were certainly women in the room who paid for injections to have lips even comparable to hers. Even with a ton of beautiful features, it was her hair that drew attention to her beautifully framed face. This evening, she wore her dark brown and orange-dyed tips bone straight with a small part down the middle and pushed behind her diamond-studded ears.

“Fuck it,” she mumbled, downing the last of her drink as if it were a shot. She placed two white Tic Tacs on her tongue, allowing them to sit there briefly before biting down on them so that the minty flavor would hit quicker. She then put a piece of gum into her mouth, refusing to be known as the pretty journalist with the bad breath. Rubbing her hands against the fabric of her dress, she moved them in a swift downward motion, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, and she made sure her badge displaying PRESS was in perfect view. Then she gradually walked away from the back corner she had become comfortable in. Erynn was right, and because her goal was to earn the title of being an extraordinary journalist, she had to step away from that corner and get to work.

“Would you like for me to take that?” She ended her slow stride to smile at the young waiter who paused in front of her, offering to dispose of the empty cup in her hand.

“Yes, please. Thank you,” she spoke, handing it to him.

“No problem. Uh, I know this may not be appropriate, but I just wanted to compliment your beauty. There’s a ton of famous women in this room, and you shine a little brighter.” He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help blushing.

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile still very present.

“No problem. Be careful. There are some vultures in this room.”

“I’m tougher than I may look. Don’t let the pretty face fool you.”

“Good to know.” He winked before walking off.

“Oh, my God,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks heat up again and not believing she’d flirted with a damn waiter, which meant the martini she drank had kicked in. He wasn’t an ugly guy. In fact, he was quite handsome. He was a shade darker than her, with his hair cut low into a fade. He reminded her of the actor Mack Wilds, only darker. Though handsome, he wasn’t her type, and not because of his occupation. She wasn’t too big on occupations as long as he did his part and didn’t put her in danger or jeopardize her livelihood. As far as the waiter was concerned, he just looked young. She desired a man her age or older. She wasn’t into the youngsters.

Okay, time to keep moving, she silently encouraged herself as she started again with no actual destination in mind. She unintentionally bumped shoulders as she walked, receiving the stank face from a few, which only assisted in making her feel further discouraged and ready to fight. The rudeness she received each time she said, “Pardon me,” or, “My apologies,” merely to be looked at as a peasant or rudely dismissed, made her angry enough to want to physically defend herself. She was always courteous of others, and unfortunately, she felt people took that as her being a punk, a character flaw she definitely didn’t have.

“Ugh,” she grunted, stopping right where she was for no reason. She just paused, needing to calm down, needing a second to remember where she was and what she was there for to keep from spazzing. At least she hoped that was what she would gain from the brief intermission.

“If you’re trying to hear our conversation to post something on one of those little blogs without clearance, I will sue you and whoever you work for.” A tone that sounded like one she’d heard on the radio caught her off guard. Amree’s face scrunched in confusion as she made a slight turn toward the voice coming from her left side. When her eyes landed on who she assumed was the person speaking to her, shock shot through her, consuming her so much she felt her mouth fall open. Literally, she felt her jaw drop.

“So, you were listening?” the woman queried, staring at Amree as if she was disgusted.

Apparently, her reaction equated to guilt. “Uh, no, no, I wasn’t,” she finally expressed, shaking her head vehemently.

“Sure you weren’t. Why would you just stop near us if you weren’t?” The pompous look spoke volumes and showed exactly how she assumed Amree was lying.

Amree glared at her blankly. She never imagined her first time meeting one of her favorite singer-actresses would be like this. Mary stood in front of her looking as fabulous as ever, and all she wanted to do was turn and run away or cuss her out if she didn’t quit speaking to her like some anybody-ass ho. She would only be starstruck for so long. Eventually, Amree from the south side would appear, and she was not the one to play with.

“Because I just stopped, okay? Trust me, if I wanted your conversations on paper, I’d ask. I’m the most private person in the world, so trust, I know how to not invade anyone else’s privacy. I was not listening to you. No clue what you two were talking about. To be honest, I don’t care.” Her shell shock and fan phase diminished. She’d be a fool to continue to stand there and be scolded like a child. A reply from the woman she once couldn’t wait to meet wasn’t important as she stormed off, frustrated. Had things gone differently, that could have been a huge win for her, being able to interview someone so iconic. Amree, on the brink of tears, headed for the nearest secluded area.

Removing her phone from her clutch, she started texting Erynn with so much force one would’ve thought she was pressing an actual keypad instead of the touch screen of the iPhone. She was so in tune with what she was typing that she didn’t notice anyone heading in her direction, not until the heat from the closeness radiated to her.

“I hope whoever he is, you’re telling him it’s over.”

She shook her head before rolling her eyes as she turned around to see who was invading her personal space.

Lemere sat in the booth reserved for him and his small entourage consisting of his bodyguard and manager and his cousin, who was pissing him off with his groupie antics. Usually, it wouldn’t have bothered him, but this wasn’t that kind of gathering. Tonight was an opportunity for him to rub elbows and create connections to help further his career. Granted, he was already very famous. Still, there were a few areas of the industry he wanted his hand in, areas of the game that were untouched by him. Tonight, that would change. It had to, and that was why he was there, ready and eager for advancement. And there were more than a few people in the room who could help make it happen.

His only issue was that he hadn’t moved from his spot to see anything work for him. His manager walked off not too long ago, claiming to be headed to work in his favor. Yet each time he looked up, the dude was grinning in the face of a female, mostly ones they already knew, which did nothing for him. Or he was in the face of a pretty regular nobody. It was bad enough that he was bored, on top of being two seconds from cussing out his “unable to sit his ass still” cousin, Mason. Mason wanted so badly to get up and introduce himself to anyone who would listen and ask for photos for his social media, and Lemere wasn’t having it.

“Nigga, if you don’t stop shaking like a fiend dying for a hit, I’m gon’ send yo’ ass up out of here.” Lemere cut his eyes at him, causing his bodyguard, Shakil, to laugh.

“I ain’t bouncing that hard, nigga. Plus, I gotta piss,” he voiced.

Both Lemere and Shakil squinted at him like he’d said the dumbest shit they’d ever heard coming from a grown-ass man. It was.

“Nigga. Go piss. You seriously gon’ sit here ’til yo’ shit explode?” Lemere fussed.

“Yo, punk ass, the one ain’t want me moving like I’m gon’ embarrass yo’ ass,” Mason fired back.

“You embarrassing yo’self, my nigga. Especially if you piss yo’ pants like a three-year-old. Take yo’ ass on. Just come right back. Shit, you worried ’bout me bein’ embarrassed,” Lemere scoffed before continuing. He wanted Mason to know exactly how he felt. “I’m past that. Over here fuckin’ mortified. Yo’ ass,” Lemere griped, shaking his head, wholly regretting letting Mason roll with him.

“Nigga become a rap star and wanna learn big words. I’ll be back,” Mason spat as he stood with a face contorted in discomfort.

“You wanna go follow that nigga, make sure he don’t talk to nobody?” Lemere asked Shakil.

“Nah, I ain’t paid to watch him. He’ll be back. The worst thing that can happen is they throw his ass outta here.” Shakil laughed.

“That nigga simple than a mothafucka. Can’t believe my mama sister birthed him.”

“Fame changes everybody, even those around you, whether you like it or not,” Shakil added.

“Unfortunately,” Lemere mumbled, knowing Shakil hadn’t told one lie. “Where this nigga Thomas at? I’m ’bout to move around on my own. Shit, I’m bored as hell sitting here and probably giving off an arrogant-ass impression.”

Lemere wasn’t really into the crowd, mainly because he wasn’t the center of attention as he liked to be, even though he’d never admit it out loud. Still, he knew by not at least attempting to mingle, it would give people an idea about him that either wasn’t true, or he wasn’t cool with. He didn’t want even the artists he already collaborated with thinking that he chose today of all days to be a whole different nigga. If he continued to wait there sipping rosé and staring into the crowd, he would absolutely portray that.

“Man, Thomas over there talking to a badass bitch, boy. She ain’t a celebrity or video ho, ’cause I’d know. She must be a reporter, A&R, or some shit. Finer than a mothafucka, though,” Mason delivered dramatically, walking back into the booth.

“That was quick. The way you were shaking, I just knew you was gon’ flood us out this bitch,” Shakil joked.

“Fuck yo’ swoll ass,” he scoffed.

“Long as that nigga out there working for me like he supposed to be, I couldn’t care less who he talking to.”

“You ain’t seen her,” Mason said breathlessly, eyes wide, looking like a lovesick puppy.

“You acting like niggas ain’t ever seen a bad bitch before,” Shakil commented, glancing at Mason skeptically.

“I’m done talking to you niggas. Specifically you, old hefty-ass bodyguard. The last time you probably even came close to a bad bitch was to stand out of the way for her to speak to Mere,” Mason huffed, relaxing back in his seat.

“Ditto, my nigga.” Shakil nodded, smirking.

“You a liar, homeboy. I sleep with one every night. What you call my baby mother? At least I got a girl.”

“Yet you lusting over the broads in this room. Both y’all niggas giving me a headache with the bickering,” Lemere finally cut in. They were getting on his nerves, and Mason was embarrassing himself. He hoped shutting them up would help Mason save face, if only for a little bit.

“A real nigga still gon’ look,” Mason advised both men, having to have the last word.

“Ay, Lemere.” Thomas’s voice broke the tension as he strode back into their booth with a guest. Though Thomas drew their attention, it was the woman standing next to him who secured it.

“Damn.” The soft whisper departed from both Lemere’s and Shakil’s lips.

“I told y’all,” Mason shot, causing both men to shoot daggers at him.

“What’s up, Tom?” Lemere asked, regaining his cool.

“Good thing you’re still here. This is Stephanie from Media at Large magazine and blog. They’re interested in interviewing you and featuring you in their issue ‘Top 10 New MCs,’” Thomas informed him with a broad smile on his face as if he’d just scored him a major endorsement deal.

“That’s what’s up. Thomas will make sure the meeting is set up.” Lemere stood and shook her hand. “Ay, let me holla at you.” He turned his attention back to his manager.

“What’s up?”

“This interview is cool and all, but there’s a whole lot of money to be made in this room. You need to get out there and do better and not use my clout to get yo’ dick wet.”

There was no mistaking the seriousness in Lemere’s tone, and whether he said it or not, Thomas was aware he’d better get on his shit before he found himself jobless.

“I . . . I got you, man. You should mingle too. Show your face more.” His voice shook even with him trying to be and sound assertive, not wanting to be embarrassed by the other men in the area or the woman he was indeed trying to bed.

“Go do yo’ job, man,” Lemere demanded once more before turning his back to Thomas. Tonight was going every way but how he expected, and to say he was over it already was exactly how he felt.

“Ay, Shakil, I’m about to go bump shoulders with a few folks.”

“Finally. I’ve been tired of just sitting here with you niggas. Ain’t never seen a star scared to interact,” Mason spoke, standing and dusting imaginary dust from his suit.

“You not coming with me,” he spoke before turning toward Shakil. “I’m good. This is the last place I need protection. Stay with my lame-ass cousin. Y’all eat, drink, sightsee, and I’ll meet you back here in no longer than an hour. By then, I’ll be ready to dip.”

“All right.” Shakil shook hands with Lemere. Mason wasn’t horrible. In fact, it wouldn’t feel like he was working roaming the room with him.

“I don’t need no babysitter. Plus, this dude won’t put me in the face of no one important,” Mason protested.

“You came with somebody important. Let that be enough. Or sit yo’ ass in timeout. I’m not playing with you, Mase. You betta be on yo’ best behavior like you at Sunday service with Auntie, or I’m on yo’ head,” Lemere chastised him, meaning every word.

“All right, man.” Mason shrugged him off, sucking his teeth.

“Ay, just drag his ass out of here if he becomes too much,” Lemere told Shakil with his eyes on an anxious Mason. He couldn’t believe the desperation being revealed by his cousin.

Lemere left them there, moving as far off into the crowd as possible, even though he knew Shakil would spot him at some point. Shakil was outstanding at his job, always keeping his eyes on Lemere even when it didn’t seem as such. As he strolled through the crowd, he could hardly get through as he continued to be stopped for hugs and brief conversation, making him regret sitting in his booth as long as he had. In such a short amount of time, he’d established a few connections he hadn’t had before, and he looked forward to seeing if some would actually pan out or if people were just doing a whole lot of talking. He continued his stride, heading in the direction of rapper’s excellence. That wasn’t what the area was called. It was what he saw when he saw the men across the room, men whose level he one day hoped to reach by favorites and accolades.

“Damn,” he mumbled as he was mesmerized by the curves rushing past him, forcing him to do a double take. He turned on his heels completely, watching her ass jiggle in the dress she wore. He hadn’t seen her face, but her body was enough to redirect his initial destination. Luckily for him, she’d stepped out of the way of the crowd, giving the two of them privacy she had no clue they’d need. He observed as she tapped forcefully at her phone as he crept up behind her.

“I hope whoever he is, you’re telling him it’s over,” he spoke over her shoulder.

“Excuse me?” she challenged with much attitude, turning around to see who was all up in her business and personal space.

“You heard me,” Lemere informed her as his lips took on a mind of their own, stretching into his million-dollar smile. Her facial expression said it all. She was shocked to see it was he who’d interrupted her text rant. Lemere was more than happy to see that her face was just as banging as her body, if not more. When he’d followed her, he didn’t expect her to be breathtakingly gorgeous. Most women he encountered didn’t have a ten for a body and a ten for a face.

“Uh, no, I wasn’t texting a boyfriend. I don’t have one of those. Um, how can I help you?” she spoke, watching him with bouncing eyes, indicating he had her nervous.

“What’s your name?”

“Amree. I didn’t mean to be rude. Just having a rough night,” she admitted.

“Oh, so you not having fun?”

“Not really. I’m not here for that anyway. I’m working,” she advised him, lightening up some and nodding toward her badge.

“Oh, that’s what’s up. So you know who I am?”

“Yes. Would have to live under a rock not to,” she kidded.

“Nah, I ain’t that famous.” He shrugged, smiling.

“If you say so.” She smirked.

“Amree, I think you’re beautiful and would like to take you—”

“Oh, no, I can’t,” she cut him off, though his offer was flattering. He stood before her, fine as hell in a black tailored suit and gray dress shirt, with a diamond-encrusted L around his neck and a diamond as big as his knuckles in his ear. His caramel skin looked just as good as the string of caramel one would see spilling from a Twix when broken in half. His beard and sideburns, as well as his curl-enhanced fade, were lined to perfection. His videos and IG posts did him absolutely no justice compared to seeing him in person.

“Why not?” he asked, feeling rejected, something he didn’t take well.

“Because I’m here for work, and anything outside of that would be inappropriate.”

“Who you work for?”

“Extraordinaire Magazine. I’m also an entertainment writer.”

“That’s what’s up. So, I’m saying, I’m not famous enough to be interviewed by your magazine or to even collaborate with you on some entertainment writing?” He cocked his head to the side, peering at her as if he dared her to deny him.

“Oh, no. Interviewing you . . . working with you would be awesome. I just didn’t think—”

“Set it up,” he cut her off.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, set . . . it . . . up.”

“Oh, okay. Um, do I contact your people by email? An office number?”

“Nah, you pull out yo’ phone, check your calendar, and give me a date and contact info so we can confirm.”

“I could do that, but I’m positive your schedule is far less open than mine. It would probably work best by you telling me a date.”

Lemere released a low chuckle as he removed his phone from his pocket. “How about in a few weeks? But the meeting would have to be in person. I don’t trust the phone shit.”

“Th . . . that’s fine.”

“All right. A few weeks from today in L.A. Give me your details so I can confirm the place and time with you.” He extended his arm, giving her his phone. Quickly she gave him the number to her office and her email, which linked to her cell.

“Cool, what number is this?” he inquired, taking his phone back.

“My office.”

“All right.” Lemere chuckled while nodding.

“Well, thank you. You kind of saved my job,” she tittered.

“I doubt it. You’re a good look. I’ll see you soon, though.”

“Thank you.” She blushed as he slowly began to move away from her.

“Ay.” He turned back to her.

“Yes?”

“Remember, if someone else approaches you, you’re here for work purposes only, all right?” He winked at her, then walked into the crowd before she could respond. Unbeknownst to her, Lemere had just staked his claim.

Amree stood on the other side of the tall wire fence, impatiently tapping her foot and waiting for the buzzer to sound and the gate to open. The groans coming from behind her let her know she wasn’t the only person tired of waiting. She understood everyone’s plight, but she also knew the gate wouldn’t be opening until whoever was on the other side decided to open it.

“I can’t stand when they do this bullshit,” someone spoke from behind her, sucking her teeth loudly. From the tone and antics, she knew the person was a woman. Who the woman was or what she looked like she couldn’t care less about. So, looking back to see hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Well, we’ll be waiting until they ready. It’s nothing new. I wish y’all would back up, though. It makes no sense to be all up on me or anybody else. Can’t get the damn gate open if we all up on it anyway,” another woman spoke up. This one Amree could see, as she was in front of her. She was also familiar with this woman.

Bekah.. . .