*** From USA Today Bestselling author MJ Fields***
Available on Amazon and will be available everywhere... soon
What you will get....
Humor....I look in the mirror one last time, noticing my hair is longer on top than it is on the sides. The gel I use to style it makes it look messy and black instead of dark brown. With my black boots, I stand at six-foot-three, and having spent an hour at the gym every night after school, I finally have great definition. I’m stage ready. I walk out on stage with my guitar strung around my neck, pick in hand, waiting for the nerves to consume me. But they don’t. Why? Because I’m a damn legend; that’s why. The stadium is sold out, and the crowd is going wild. “Hello, New Jersey!” I hold the mic out for the crowd’s roar, and they give me exactly what I want. “I am Memphis Black, lead singer and guitarist extraordinaire for—” Fuck, I hate this part. What the hell is the band’s name? “Black Hawks,” my sister Madison whispers. “The Black Hawks!” I yell to the crowd. “That name is so lame.” I hear my sister’s friend Tally giggle. “You two, out.” “No, you said, if we videotaped this, you would—” “Out!” “Come on, it’s our first dance. We need to learn how!” Madison stomps her foot. “Well, you didn’t hold up your end of the deal, now did you?” I lift the guitar strap over my head. “Come on, please,” Madison says with huge eyes. “Yeah, please,” Tally joins her. I consider telling them to fuck off, but they would tell Mom. I consider a simple no, but they’d tell her that, too. Therefore, I choose the safest answer. “Fine. But you both have to shut the hell up.” Tally covers her mouth, looking horrified. The girl is a train wreck in epic, adolescent proportion. She has kinky brown curls and a ribbon always wrapped around her head. Freckles bridge her nose and dot her face, and she always wears cartoon character T-shirts. Today, it’s Care Bears. “What now, Tales?” I huff. “You said—” “Hell?” I laugh. She giggles again. “Yeah, you did.” “You know what? I think the both of you should just stay home. All freshman girls do at a dance is stand in a corner, giggle, and look like dweebs.” I look at my sister. “Mads, if a boy asks you to dance, you’ll start laughing and snorting.” Next, I point at her friend. “Tall, you’ll get some big-ass grin.” I roll my eyes when she covers her mouth again. The little girl can’t handle a curse word to save her life. “Just keep smiling and laughing, and they’ll think there’s something wrong up in those crazy heads of yours. Besides, you’re both in that—I don’t know—the awkward stage: braces, boobs just budding …” Tally covers her mouth again, while Madison starts to get really pissed off. “I mean, look at that hair. Mads, you’re so used to wearing a ball cap you have permanent hat head. And you—” I can’t resist taking one more shot at Tally—“how the hell are you gonna get a comb through that kinky mess before Saturday?” That’s when Madison finally screams for Mom. Tally just looks at me like that cat from the cartoon, the one with the big, green guy. Shrek? Yeah, Shrek. Puss, Puss in Boots. That’s what her face looks like. Looking back at her, I almost feel kind of bad for giving them a hard time. Mom comes in then and gives me the third degree. She tells me, “Girls are sensitive when they’re going through changes,” and that I should ‘be more thoughtful.’ Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Okay, Mom, fine. I will buy into their little girl fantasies about that girl with the blue dress, the one with the mice that turn into horses—” “Cinderella.” In spite of herself, my mom laughs. “Yeah, her.” Her face goes from amused to suspicious. “What exactly are they doing in your room, anyway?” “They were supposed to be taping my performance.” I try not to smile as she gives me that look. I know exactly what she’s about to say: that my rock star fantasies are just as lame as some dumb fairytale with talking mice. “It’s not the same thing, Mom. This is my dream, something I can actually make into a career one day.” “I know, Memphis.” She pats my back, smiling. “But maybe their dream is to dance.” Some more..... “Damn, check out that little peach,” River says when he meets up with us, running his hands back and forth through his hair, ridding it of some of the Atlantic. He points to a chick laid out on a beach towel, all oiled up, top already undone, and she is turning around to lie on her back. “Oh, fuck no.” I almost laugh as we get past her, heading for the volleyball net. “Sascrotch,” Finn mumbles under his breath. We all bust up laughing. “She’s hot and all, but who the fuck doesn’t look in the mirror and see they need a fucking trim before—” “That’s more than a trim, man; that would require a bush hog,” I laugh. “She’s a moped,” River chimes in. “I’d ride the hell out of her for fun, but I sure as fuck wouldn’t want any one of you to see me on her.” “Hair grows there for a reason,” Billy says. “So does facial hair, man, but you trim that shit so you don’t look like a mountain man.”
Heart“One day, your father caught me watching you and said, ‘Do you know what happens to sinners, young man?’ I told him no, I didn’t. I was a kid! He looks at me and says, ‘They burn in hell.’ “I fucking laughed in his face. Hell, he preached God’s love and was pegging me at ten years old as a sinner. He didn’t think that shit was funny. I wasn’t thinking about banging you back then, Tales. I was fucking ten. “He told me, ‘If you have sexual desires for her, you best get down on your knees and pray, young man.’” Memphis shakes his head. “I had no clue what he was talking about. Sex was far from my mind. I was into Legos or some other shit my old man bought, promising he’d spend time doing it with me and then bailing."
And... HEAT“You looking for a fight? ’Cause you’ve got one,” Ricky snaps. Finn steps between them. “Walk, man, while you can.” Memphis looks at me. “If we’re gonna be playing around for the next couple of days, it’s one on one, you feel me?” “I was just dancing.” I blush and look to see if Mads is watching this. She’s not; she’s dancing with River and Billy. “That wasn’t dancing, Tallia. That was fucking foreplay,” he says, stepping into my space as “Teacher” by Nick Jonas starts. He then takes my hands and puts them on his hips. “Your little hands go here, not on his, feel me?” I nod as he places his hands over mine and drags them up under his shirt as his hips start swaying to the music. As Nick’s voice booms “Oh my, oh my, oh my God” over the speakers, Memphis’s hips circle while he moves down slowly until he is hip level with my hands on his shoulders. I close my eyes and start swaying as his hands run up the back of my thighs and stop right below my butt. Then he lifts the hem of my tank top with his nose and runs it across my stomach before I feel his tongue against my skin. My knees weaken, and I clutch his incredibly strong shoulders while he continues to lick, kiss, and graze his teeth across my now exposed flesh. He senses it and places a kiss on my hip as he slowly kisses up my side and then turns me so my back is against his body. He takes my hands in his and runs them up my body as he sings, “So let me teach ya,” in my ear, sending chills all over my body. My hands now rub up my front and over my chest, and he groans in my ear. “So let me teach ya,” he sings again, my hands now behind his neck. “Hold tight; don’t let go,” he commands against my neck. “Rock with me.”
He sways, and I follow his lead as his hands grip my hips and pull me toward his hard body. And his body is hard everywhere.
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