Black And White Ops

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Blurb:

A military, plus size, interracial romance book. Monique, a plus-size beauty with a passion for teaching English, travels to Russia seeking adventure. If she had known it would turn into a desperate fight for survival, she would have never left the U.S. Instead, she’s entangled in a dangerous U.S. military assassination plot!

At her side is the compelling and skilled Rick Wilson, a secret black ops agent whose unexpected tenderness matches his proficiency. Rick, working solo for a covert American intelligence agency, is on a mission to neutralize a hacker threatening national security.

Things take a wild turn when Rick runs into Monique Harrison, and suddenly she’s right in the middle of the danger zone. Rick is totally taken by Monique’s guts and good looks, sparking a whirlwind romance while they’re both trying to stay alive.

Through all the chaos, Monique can’t stop thinking: Is a relationship born in such crazy times going to work in the real world? And, if they actually get through this alive, what’s next for their intense romance? Find out in this BBW, BWWM, military romance story by Aaron Steel.

Chapter 1

The cold winter nights near St. Petersburgh were a constant reminder of how far north the city was located. Built by Tsar Peter in the seventeenth century it had the same latitude as the Hudson Bay in Canada. Canada had no major cities in Hudson Bay. Russia needed a port opened to the sea and the only place Tsar Peter could find was Finland Bay, where St. Petersburgh would soon be constructed. He willed a great city to be created at this location and today it is the most modern of Russia’s larger cities.

Monique Harrison had taught English at St. Michael the Archangel Gymnasium in St. Petersburg for the past five years. She had accepted a job with the school after graduating from the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia and not been impressed with any of the teaching jobs she was offered in the state. The Russian Gymnasium, a private school for older adolescents, was willing to pay off her student loans and give her a stipend to teach English to the children of the new business class which was emerging in Russia. A curvy black woman from Philadelphia, Monique was looking for a new adventure after graduating.

So she had to get used to being called Devoshuka Harrison by her students. Monique had only heard Russian in the Northeast part of Philadelphia and never had a reason to learn the language. But soon after taking the job, she found it important to learn it unless she wanted to appear lost and confused to the people she lived around. The school found her a place to stay in an apartment building next door, where many of the other teaching staff found themselves housed.

Over the years she had learned what she needed to know and could converse on a need basis with the average Russian on the street. She became used to the stares she would get from the average person, but the people who lived on her street knew who she was and didn’t bother her. Every now and then a drunken day laborer might start yelling at her and any other foreigner, but there were plenty of people who would intervene on her behalf. It didn’t bother her any more than being shouted out by uneducated rednecks in the county areas outside Philadelphia.

As time went on she had added the curves to her already tall body. Monique had played basketball in high school as she was one of the tallest girls in her class. Her mother had seen to it that she was the best student in her school and in line for a scholarship when one became available. Her financial aid money hadn’t paid for everything and she was forced to go into debt to support her education. This is why the job with the school was such a Godsend.

It was late in December when she heard the familiar sounds of an English speaker in a coffee shop off the Nevsky Prospect. It was a tiny little place which reminded her of some of the Center City Philadelphia places she used to hand out in Philadelphia. Monique was sitting in a chair at a table reading her smart phone’s news report. She was in the process of sipping a cappuccino in a small cup when she heard the man talking. She turned her head to look at the speaker on the other side of the room. She nearly fell out of her chair at the gorgeous man who was conversing with a Russian woman.

The shop wasn’t large and was filled mostly with Russians who were getting up for one reason or another on a cold Sunday morning. From the look of it, many of the couples had just met the night before. Monique stayed as far away from the club scene as she could. She wasn’t the standard rail-thin ice queen beauty most of the local men were searching for. Furthermore, she had no desire to end up on someone’s bucket list. She had overheard enough men in St. Petersburg talk about capturing an “African Flag” to keep her away from them. Once she had enough money saved up, she planned to resign and return to the United States. No matter how messed-up America might be at any given moment, it was still the only home she knew.

The man appeared to be in his early thirties and had a two-day growth of beard on him. Like the woman he was with, the man was white, but he had the look of someone who had spent a lot of time outdoors. His head was almost shaven to the point of a military haircut. She wondered about the relationship between him and the young woman he was with, but unlike the other couples in the coffee shop who were crawling all over each other, he was formal and keeping his distance. She tried not to stare too closely at him as just being in his vicinity was giving her a little bit of excitement between her legs.

The woman he was with looked to be about twenty years of age and had long blond hair with ice blue eyes. She couldn’t weigh more than one hundred pounds and was hidden in a tight sweater with stylish ski pants on her legs. Monique noted with approval the Coach handbag she had slung around her shoulder. It was impossible to understand what they were discussing at her distance, but it had to be important from the hushed tones he was using with her. Her nails were manicured to perfection and she wore a set of designer glasses on her face. Likewise she had time to put on her makeup and the woman’s face was a walking advertisement for a cosmetic supplier.

As she sipped her drink and looked at her phone, Monique saw the man’s hand slide out of his pocket and hand the woman something that was green. Whatever the amount of money, it was substantial as she slipped it in her ski pants pocket the second he gave it to her. They talked for another five minutes and then the man kissed her on the cheek. She gave him a hug and left the shop while he continued to drink the coffee he’d ordered for himself.

Monique watched the man get up from where he had been sitting and turn to look at her. She tried her best to stay invisible, but didn’t succeed. He had noticed her. She had been living in St. Petersburg so long that it no longer bothered her when someone stared, so long as they didn’t make a racial remark. Monique went back to her smart phone. Then she saw him with her peripheral vision rise up from his table and begin walking in her direction. Damn, she thought, I’m in a tight spot. No way to ignore him now. The man walked over to her and pulled up a chair across from her. She could feel the warmth from his body where she sat.

“Are you an American?” he asked in a smooth baritone voice. The way he rolled his letters made her wet between the legs.

Monique looked up from her smart phone and smiled. “Yes I am, by way of Philadelphia,” she told him. “And what brings you here?”