Nadirah Foxx  


Happy Friday! How are you?

There’s been a pleasant breeze in the air—perfect for apartment hunting! We changed our minds and decided to find either a townhouse or a two-bedroom apartment with a loft. Yesterday, we saw a place that had my name all over it. Okay, not literal, but it could have. The loft had a fireplace!!

I’m almost ready for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Honestly, I can’t wait to start!

In the meantime, sit back and enjoy another installment of Love Struck!


Part Two


The naked stranger strolled over to my bed and sat his wet ass on my silk duvet. Spreading his tanned legs, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He eyed me like I was the hottest item on an all-night diner menu.

Averting my gaze, I asked, “Got a name?”

“Don’t we all?”

I was too hung over for fun and games. 

Before I could comment, though, he said, “Call me Steve. If you don’t have any booze, got some breakfast?”

I didn’t have time for whatever he had in mind. My eyes darted around the room and landed on a pair of faded jeans and a dingy white T-shirt. A pair of worn black biker boots lay on their side next to the pile. 

Pointing to the mess, I said, “Look, Steve, I’m sure last night was loads of fun, but—”

He chuckled. “You’ve got shit to do. No prob. We’ll catch up later. How ‘bout ten tonight?”

How about never?

But I didn’t want to be rude. “Yeah, that sounds perfect. Same spot?”

Steve stood, bent down, and gave me an amazing view—sculpted, muscular thighs and a butt so tight I could have bounced a quarter off it. He grabbed his jeans and slid them on, slowly, like he was trying to tempt me.

He made eye contact as he pulled up the zipper. “You know… You look just like her.”

Here we go…

But I’d play dumb. “Who?”

“El Mercury. You could be her god damned twin.”

Heard it before.

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the doorjamb. “Really? I don’t see it.”

“It’s your eyes and shape of your face. Ever consider dying your hair blonde?”

Was he fucking serious?

Steve continued. “I have all of Deep Pink’s albums. Even have the solo ones by El.”

I’m sure Mom appreciated the royalties.

“Good for you, Steve. You’re a little young to be a fan, though.”

He shook his head. “Not really. Good music transcends time. One of my fave tunes is Tarantula off the Curves and Lines album.”

That album pre-empted celebrating my twenty-ninth birthday. It was Mom’s second to last release. Three of the eleven tunes reached Billboard’s Top Forty. Two made it to the Top Ten. Curves and Lines wasn’t the phenomenal hit El Mercury had hoped for. Her last album, a compilation of her greatest hits and covers from Deep Pink, was her all-time best-selling work.

“What’s your favorite?” Steve asked.

“I’m more of an R & B fan,” I lied. Honestly, I loved Mom’s music. I just didn’t love her.

“Too bad.” He shoved his feet into his boots and walked toward the door. “Maybe I can change your mind. See you tonight.”

Not if I could help it.

As soon as I heard my front door close, I picked up my cell and called Ronnie. She picked up on the second ring. “Ronnie, what the fuck happened last night?”

She laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid. How the hell did I come home with two guys?”

“Actually, it was three. I left with Owen.”

I sank down on my bed. “And you thought it was wise to leave me with two strangers?”

“You were having fun. What’s wrong?”

“I woke up with one next to me and a creep in the shower.”

“Yeah, I thought Steve was a little skeevy. Noah seemed sweet.” Ronnie breathed into the phone. “But they’re gone, right?”

“They are, but the creep wants to drop by tonight.”

“Then just don’t be there. We’ll go out—”

“No fucking way! We’re not going anywhere. Come to my place around eight. We’ll have a girls’ night in.”

“We can do that. See you later.”

I disconnected the call, tossed my phone on the bed, and collapsed onto the pillows. Hopefully, with Ronnie by my side, skeevy Steve would get the message and leave.

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