You can read I’ve Got You free below.

Blurb:

A pregnancy, BWWM, contemporary romance story. Aleshia is pregnant and on the run. The baby’s father, her domineering and manipulative boyfriend, is determined to use her pregnancy to tighten his grip on her. Desperate for freedom and support, she starts a new life near her sister in Miami.

As soon as Aleshia sets foot in Miami, she dives into her fresh start, searching for apartments with the captivating realtor, Cameron. Their chemistry is undeniable, quickly evolving into plans for a date. However, when Aleshia discloses her pregnancy and her fraught past, Cameron abruptly pulls away, casting doubts on the future of their connection.

Aleshia is left questioning Cameron’s true intentions. Were his actions solely driven by professional duty? Or might Cameron come to realize that Aleshia, along with her unborn child, is exactly what he’s been searching for in life? Discover now in this interracial pregnancy romance novel by Jenny Cater.

I've Got You cover small

Chapter 1

Aleshia’s fingers clacked across the keyboard. Before her, an article sprung to life, forming from nothingness into something coherent, tight and polished. To her left lay a cup of coffee, almost completely drained. To her right lay her mobile phone, screen lit, which she glanced at every now and then, hating herself each time she did. She waited for pizza to turn up at her door. She knew at this point she was doing little else other than trying to drown her sorrows, though she didn’t really care. Aleshia was entitled to it.

Behind her formed a furnished, shabby apartment, bare of possessions. Aleshia took exactly one suitcase of personal objects with her on the move, a state to state transition from rural Minnesota to the vibrant city life of Miami, Florida. The city itself was intimidating, the exact opposite of rural life, quiet country and red-neck neighbors.

Aleshia had always been interested in the idea of living in a big city, with everything within reach, and an overabundance of different jobs. Her old home left little choice for work opportunity. Either she worked in a shop as a sales assistant, farmer, or waitress, or moved away for better options. Local areas were the bare bones of what a city offered. She had taken to online freelancing, tired of the options, but unwilling to move from the area, because her partner had not wanted to move, and because she liked the countryside.

There was always a trade-off when it came to living. Either you lived in the country, surrounded by the peaceful presence of nature, friendlier people, or you lived in the smog choked, noise polluted city with people spilling into the streets, jobs at every corner, everything you could ever wish for within reach.

Her hands formed into claws at the thought of Peter. She clacked ferociously at the keyboard, words forming like bolts of lightning, a snarl on her face. Peter. Fu*king Peter. Typos appeared, one after the other. She slowed down, correcting them, then gulped the rest of her coffee.

Nowadays, any surfacing memory of Peter left her either in a state of incandescent fury, sadness, or extreme apathy. She was past the days where she curled up in the corner, sobbing into her tissues, or whimpering to her sister. She was past his mood swings, his shouting, his constriction of her social life, and the floods of messages left on her phone afterwards, begging for her to take him back.

No way was she falling into that trap again.

Halfway through the article for her client, the phone rang. It buzzed out the chorus of Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing. She checked the number, stopped typing and pressed the accept button.

“Hey,” she said.

“Aleshia! How you doing, babe?”

“Alright.”

“Settling into the new apartment alright? Internet sorted?”

“I sorted it three weeks ago, Vaneese.” Aleshia suppressed a burp. “I’ve told you this already. How’s things with you, Dijon and the squirt?”

Aleshia’s sister instantly brightened up at the subject of her family. Her medium pitched voice burbled in answer. “Oh, they’re fine. Dijon’s very busy at work now, it’s picked up business. He’s getting clients every day. Amy’s been asking after you. She wants to know when you’re coming over next.”

“Later on, if you want. I’ve just got this article to finish, and I’ve wrapped up my jobs for the day. You’re at home?”

“Yeah. Picked up Amy from school. Come have dinner with us. I know all you’re going to be eating over there is noodles, burgers, and sh*t.”

“I’ll have you know, burgers are tasty,” Aleshia said. “Nothing like a hot, dripping pizza in the gullet to keep me from thinking about that asshole.”

“You’re eating crap?” Vaneese’s voice was sharp, disapproving. “A lot?”

“Not much,” Aleshia said, suppressing another burp.

“Don’t,” Vaneese barked. “You cooking anything for yourself?”

“I can’t cook. You know that. You were the talented one in our family.”

“I know you can do some things.”

“No. I’ve not been cooking. Just ordering take-outs.”

Vaneese sighed. “Look, if you’re gonna eat sh*t, then come over to our place every day. I’ll cook you something good. You can abuse yourself as much as you want, but that baby ain’t done nothing wrong.”

Aleshia scowled. “I wish I could kill this stupid fu*king thing. It’s part of him. It’s a fu*king bane on my life. Everything went wrong because of it.”

“That’s no way to talk.” Vaneese’s voice continued to crack at Aleshia like a whip. “You know it’s not the baby’s fault. It never was. That’s just you lashing out now.”

Aleshia swallowed her resentment with difficulty. Finally, she croaked out the words, “I don’t want to raise it alone.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Vaneese replied. “You stay with us. We’ll help you. I’ll help you. I always will. But I want you over here later. Alright?”

“Okay,” Aleshia said.

“And you block his number. You hear me? You block that maniac’s number.”

“I can’t.” Aleshia hated herself for admitting this. “He’s the father. I can’t blow out the father, can I?”

“He doesn’t care about the kid, babe.”

Vaneese’s words triggered a fresh wave of hate. Aleshia held it back. “I know. Damn it, I know. I just… part of me hopes he’ll change his tune. Even though I’ve fled to the other end of America. I know it’s stupid, and it doesn’t make sense, but I keep having that impression, you know? I can’t freeze out the dad. What if he wants to be a part of its life, and he’s just scared or something?”

“I understand, babe.” Vaneese persisted in soothing her distraught sister. “But I think as long as you keep holding onto thoughts like that, he’ll continue to have a grip on your life. You know this. He is not a good man. This is why you came here. And don’t worry. We’re gonna sort it out together, you and me.” She paused a moment. “So, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah. See you later.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Aleshia hung up. She then went back to her laptop, and opened up a file on her computer. Upon it was a collection of poems, personal thoughts and feelings she had felt over the years.

Heart crumbling, she opened up her most recently scribbled poem, tapped out in a desperate drunken moment, after an argument on the phone had left her reduced to tears.

There is life in me

And it’s bathed in hate

I’m sick of all the lies.

You should have been mine

But I realized too late

The serpent behind your eyes.