Pop Culture

'Hold Me in Contempt': First novel written by Wendy Williams is a steamy romance

In the novel, "Hold Me in Contempt" written by Wendy Williams, an unwelcome old flame appears on Kimberly Kind's doorstep following the fallout of a rocky and obscure relationship between the pair. The office affair that Kimberly vowed to never engage in becomes painfully evident after failing to resist temptation in pursuing her married boss. Here's an excerpt. 


I stayed in my office working on the Candy Shop case a little later than I anticipated. When I got home, the bottle of wine was still sitting on the coffee table in the living room. I kicked off my shoes, picked up the bottle and walked it into the kitchen, cursing myself for the late-night boozing that I was sure added like ten pounds to my body each year. I vowed to pour the little bit that was left down the drain and never ever bring a bottle of wine into the house again … A promise I knew instantly was a lie.

I was cursing aloud and lying some more to myself about trying to find more time to go to the gym when there was a single soft knock at the door. I never had company I wasn’t expecting, so I stood in the kitchen listening for a second to be sure the knock was actually at my door and not coming from downstairs or next door. But then there was a second set of three quick knocks.

“Who is it?” I called, walking to the door.

There was no answer.

I looked through the peephole. There was someone I definitely wasn’t expecting and didn’t care to see.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Open the door.”

“I told you not to come here anymore,” I said, looking at a bright smile in the little blurry glass hole in the door.

“I know.”


“You’re going to make me stand out here forever? Come on, Kim. I just want to talk.”

Against my better judgment and probably for a few reasons I couldn’t admit, I undid the three locks, removed the doorstop and let Paul in.

“Damn, you got cold on a brother fast,” he said, walking in and reaching for me.

I pushed him away and walked into the living room.

“What do you want, Paul?” I asked. I folded my arms over my chest and planted my feet firmly on the floor to let him know he was not staying. “I’m sure the DA of New York County has more to do than make uninvited house calls.”

“I’ll start with a seat,” he joked and sat down on the couch without an invitation. “Maybe a little wine.”

“Fresh out of wine,” I said. “And now I wish I didn’t have a couch.”

“Kiki Mimi! You mad? Why you so mad?”

“Don’t call me that. I told you not to call me that. That’s only for family.”

“I’m like family.”

“No, you have a family. In Westchester. With your wife. Kids. The golden retriever. Remember?”

Paul exhaled dramatically and threw his head back to rest it on the back of the couch. He was still in his work clothes, but his tie was missing and his shirt was unbuttoned. From four feet away, I could smell his cologne.

There was no place to start to begin to tell how our thing started. When Ronald and I broke up after the accident, I was in the hospital for weeks and Paul came by a few times just to check on me. When I was released from the hospital, he continued to text me to send me well wishes and keep me updated on what was going on with my cases. I thought it was kind, thoughtful, but when I told Tamika about it, she laughed in my face and told me we were setting a “thing” up. “He’s fine as hell. You know what you’re doing. Just be a big girl and admit it,” she said. I denied it, but then everything became too clear. His visits and flowers, the texts way after office hours and updates I was already getting from Carol ... He was coming onto me.

When I went back to work, I decided that there was no way I was going to be involved in a workplace affair — with my boss. It could ruin him. It could ruin me. He was separated, but still married and had two kids … and that golden retriever. I couldn’t get involved in all of that. Still, Tamika was right. Paul had that Blair Underwood mystique. Almond skin and sophisticated eyes that were so dark they looked black. He had perfect teeth and clean nails. His style was impeccable and his body was solid — even with his clothes on. And he always smelled so complex—rich sweet and dark spicy.

I fought off my attraction for him for a few months. Ignored his texts. I even went out on a couple of dates and as Tamika instructed me to in hopes that I’d get over Ronald, I got my “feet wet” a few times. But nothing seemed to satisfy me. Through so many botched and just plain awkward love affairs, I was learning fast that contrary to popular belief, not all men are created equally.

From HOLD ME IN CONTEMPT by Wendy Williams. Copyright (c) 2014 by Wendy Williams. Reprinted by permission of William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.