Mommy Loves the Rockstar Read online

  Mommy Loves the Rockstar

  Mommy’s Little Matchmakers #5

  Shanae Johnson

  Janae Ronniesha

  © 2019, Shanae Johnson and Janae Ronniesha

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Design by RockSolidBookDesign.com

  Proofread by Alice Shepherd

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Sweet Promise Press

  PO Box 72

  Brighton, MI 48116

  To my own single mother,

  A rockstar in my eyes, through & through.

  ~ Janae Ronniesha

  Contents

  Publisher’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  What’s Next?

  You May Also Like

  More from Sweet Promise Press

  More from Shanae Johnson

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

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  Prologue

  “We’re leaving in two minutes, Camille Rose.”

  The voice shrieking from downstairs meant business and Camille knew it.

  “Okay,” she yelled back as she unplugged her outdated iPhone.

  As soon as she popped the charging cable from its attachment at the bottom of the phone, the one-hundred percent bar dropped to ninety-nine. By the time she made it downstairs, Camille was sure it would be at ninety-five. Before the school bell rang for the first period, it would likely be at seventy-five.

  She needed a new phone. If not for the power suckage, then at least for posterity. She was the only seventh grader at Kleckley Middle whose technology was behind the times, like two whole years behind the times. Her old phone was not scoring her any popularity points.

  “Camille, now.” Her mother yelled up the stairs.

  Camille knew from the way she growled her last word she was at her wits’ end with her. With a final sigh, Camille shoved her phone in her backpack and headed out of her bedroom. She saw a flash of pink scrubs with dancing pigs dashing to and fro at the bottom of the stairs. Kiara, her frazzled mom, had just come home from a night shift at the hospital and was going to be heading back again after dropping Camille off at school.

  Camille still distinctly remembered when she was little, her mom would go to school at nights and leave her with Grandma. Most nights now, Grandma stayed with her. Even though Camille considered herself a grown-up at twelve years old and could absolutely take care of herself, thank you very much.

  Kiara stood at the front door. Her dark hair was thrown into a messy bun on her head. Her brown features were set into a look that screamed disapproval as she glared in her daughter’s direction.

  Camille knew she couldn’t ask that face for a new phone. Her mother was always stressed out, and stress meant an automatic answer of no when Camille asked for something her mom didn’t see as essential.

  The preteen shuffled out the front door and jogged down the front porch stairs and over to her mother’s car. She had only known her mom’s old lemon of a Toyota. Getting in the passenger seat, she buckled up, took out her phone, and stuck her buds in her ears. She barely even noticed when her mother got into the car, starting it after the fourth turn, finally, and pulled out into the street, heading toward her school.

  “Grandma is going to pick you up from school and take you to your tutor,” her mom said as she pulled onto the main street. “I’m going to try and be home before bed, but that snowstorm is rolling in, so I might have to stay at the hospital.”

  “Okay,” Camille knew the drill already. Her mom worked a lot and when the weather got bad there was a good chance she’d wouldn’t see her mother for a few days. Grandma would be there for her. She always had been.

  “Did you forget anything?”

  “No, Mom. I’ve got everything.” Camille knew she could be forgetful. Her mom had tried to put her on checklists, but Camille would forget where she put the notebook of lists.

  Watching out the window, she watched the sights of Saint Judith pass along the main road from the deli to the steakhouse her mom took her to for her birthday. They’d moved back to her mom’s hometown just before she’d turned five and it was all she knew.

  She slightly turned to watch her mom who was tapping the steering wheel and singing along to some old song on the radio. It was one of those rare times she saw her mom let her hair down and enjoy the moment.

  Camille plucked her earbuds out and watched her mom. They were paused at a red light as her mom bopped to the beat. Kiara looked over at her and grinned at Camille as she belted out the words to the song.

  “I used to love this song,” said Kiara.

  It appeared she still did if the grin on her face said anything. Camille wasn’t one for boy bands. She was the rare tween girl in that didn’t. But all the melodies and voices sounded the same to her. In this group, the lead voice was clear and distinct.

  “Who is this?” she asked.

  “Boy Tide,” her mother said, while still grinning hard. She even fluttered her eyelashes. “And this was one of my favorite songs. I had the biggest crush on Jett Anderson.”

  Camille giggled seeing her mom acting like one of her girlfriends.

  “They were the best band. Like … One Direction?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. Just think super cute guys singing sappy love songs, and girls your age loved them,” her mom tried to explain as she began singing to the music loudly again, and very much out of tune.

  Camille cringed but she didn’t shove her earbuds back in. Mainly to conserve her dying phone battery. But also, because it was so good to see her mother relaxed.

  Camille knew that other kids’ moms were stressed. But as she thought about it, she realized that only Daisy’s an
d Felicia’s moms ever seemed as stressed as her own mother. Alison’s mom never seemed stressed. The difference between those women was that Mrs. Molina had a husband.

  Every now and then when Ms. Damian, Felicia’s mom, had a boyfriend she seemed less stressed out. Camille didn’t think it had anything to do with money. She knew Ms. Damian owned her own business and Felicia told her that the men her mom dated were always deadbeats who mooched off her mom.

  So, no, it probably wasn’t the money that lessened the stress. Camille figured it could only be one thing. The kisses.

  This sappy love song her mom was belting out was all about kissing girls. So there had to be something special in men’s kisses that made moms less stressed. What if her mom had a man to kiss? She’d probably be less stressed.

  Camille knew that getting her parents back together was out of the question. But if she could get her mom a new boyfriend, maybe she’d chill out and be more willing to say yes when Camille asked for a new phone this Christmas? It was a brilliant plan. Now she just needed to decide what man would be best for her mom…

  Chapter One

  “Thank you, Baltimore, good night.”

  The applause wasn’t thunderous, but it filled the room. The room wasn’t an arena that sat tens of thousands. It wasn’t even an amphitheater that sat thousands. It was just an average concert theater that sat hundreds. But it had sold out.

  Jett Anderson took another bow, grateful for each body that was filling the seats. A few women were even on their feet applauding his performance. It wouldn’t be a standing ovation. Most people in the audience were already eagerly awaiting the main act. The seven twenty-somethings in the band made their way on stage, their kilts swishing as they did so.

  “Hello, Baltimore,” Angus, the lead singer, shouted into his microphone. “Are you ready to get the night started?”

  The screaming, stomping, and raucous applause sounded like a storm was rolling in. Seven Minutes in Scotland was the new Boy Tide for the Millennial generation. The boys did it all. They sang. They danced. Their bare chests gleamed under the spotlights. They did the move where they brought trembling girls up on stage to croon a love song to.

  It was all Boy Tides moves. Not only did they steal Jett’s show, but they also stole his audience. He watched from backstage as the moms who had been his faithful fans for the last ten years were quickly swayed to the gyrating hips of these faux highlander wannabes.

  Jett sighed and turned away from the spectacle. Along the way, he heard his fair share of congratulations from the crew. He had a lot to be thankful for. These venues were his bread and butter nowadays.

  It was the last show of the tour. He was still waiting to hear if he’d lined up the next gig. There wasn’t a lot of work for solo boy band acts who hadn’t had a hit since the last century.

  The other guys from Boy Tide had all set down their microphones, settled in single family homes, and had wives and children of their own. That was what had broken them up, not jealousy or drugs or infighting. Every member had wanted the next chapter of their life to begin. And here Jett was hanging on to the last page of an old book.

  They still got together, every once in a while, in someone’s basement. But no one was interested in getting together a reunion tour. No one was interested in going out on the road, especially not with toddlers and teenagers in tow.

  Jett had thought he’d have a family of his own by now. But all the women he met were fangirls - fan-women now. They only saw him as a skinny boy in ripped jeans who could hit the high notes.

  Or they were up and coming starlets. Those were the worst. They only knew enough about him based on what Siri had pulled up in a search. Each of those young women was only looking to get a heel up on his back.

  Jett hadn’t found a woman in between these two extremes. So, he’d decided to simply stay single.

  As he headed toward his dressing room, he saw the expectant faces of the die-hard fans waiting to meet and greet him. But at the end of the line, he saw someone most unexpected.

  “Davis? Is that you?”

  Jett made a beeline past the women with pens and autograph notebooks held out to him. The blond-haired man with the grin like an alley cat spread his arms wide. They embraced with multiple claps on the back. When they pulled apart, they began a series of complicated handshakes that they hadn’t done for over a decade. They broke apart laughing, clapping palms, and then embraced again.

  “It’s so good to see you, man,” said Jett after they broke apart again.

  “You too, Jett. It’s been way too long.”

  Jett had known Davis Cohen back when they were in the church choir together. It’s when Jett had found his voice, standing behind a pulpit and belting out hymns to the congregation. Davis had been by his side. Though where Jett went the route of the big stage, Davis went into the public school system to teach kids music.

  “Where did you wind up?” asked Jett. “Last time I was home in Omaha, you were long gone.”

  “I’m in Virginia now,” said Davis. “I figured I could come by and see if I could snag a few minutes with my old friend.”

  “Minutes? I’m taking you out for a drink.”

  “We’d love to join you two,” came a sultry voice.

  Jett looked over to see two female fans with low cut shirts. He had never been the type to go for sex and drugs along with his rock and roll. All his career he’d been a serial mono-gamer. Never once had he had a one-night stand and he was not about to start now, even if he was lonely.

  Looking down at the wedding band on Davis’ hands, he saw he’d get no argument from his old friend. Looking at the line of women he figured he could get through the signings in under a half hour. Just a few years ago, it would’ve taken him all night. Back in his Boy Tide days, he would’ve had to turn half the line away. But he couldn’t turn his back on his fans. They were all he had left.

  “Just let me sign some autographs, and I’ll get you that drink. Have you got time?”

  “Absolutely,” said Davis.

  Excitement raced through Jett’s veins. He hadn’t been looking forward to heading back to his hotel room alone. Now he could spend the evening catching up with an old friend, talking about music. In the morning he’d be on a flight back to LA where he’d made his home for the last ten years. But tonight, he’d go back to his Nebraska roots.

  Jett turned to start signing just as a small brawl broke out. Apparently, two women had cut the line, and the person they stepped in front of wasn’t having it. First words were slung. Then an earring was thrown. Followed by a red-bottomed shoe. Then the blows came.

  “Ladies, if you’ll just please-” Jett tried, but was cut off when one of the women bumped into two crew members carrying a large piece of equipment. The large case landed with a thud and a howl of pain erupted.

  The growl of pain came from Davis whose foot was trapped under the case. So much for his guy’s night out. It looked like the only place Jett would be headed with his old friend was to the emergency room.

  Chapter Two

  “Camille Rose, we’re leaving in two minutes.”

  It was like déjà vu with that girl. Kiara distinctly remembered shouting the same words to her daughter just the other day.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” came back her nearly teenaged daughter’s retort.

  That thought gave Kiara pause in packing her own bag. Her baby girl would officially be a teenager in a matter of months. How had the time flown so fast?

  It seemed that just the other day, Kiara had brought her little bundle of joy home. Home to an empty house because her husband had been on a business trip. He was still away on a business trip years after their divorce. Matt was married to his work and far more devoted to it than his family.

  Kiara had vowed that she would never be the same as her ex-husband. Unfortunately, her accumulating bills pulled her away from her daughter far more than she’d like. She rubbed her fingertips at her temples, but the massage did nothin
g to assuage the stress building there.

  “You okay, Mama?”

  Kiara dropped her hands and looked over at her daughter. Camille had her father’s light hazel eyes. Those eyes were what Kiara had fallen in love with. It was his broken promises that had turned her heart sour.

  “I’m fine, baby girl. But we’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”

  “I’m ready,” Camille insisted, turning her lanky body to show her mother her protruding backpack.

  “Oh, no,” Kiara shook her head. “You need a thick winter coat. The snow is expected to come soon.”

  “Didn’t you say it always gets a little warmer when it snows?” Camille said as she slid off her backpack and tunneled into her thick, light blue winter coat. “You always say snow requires the perfect condition of a little bit of warmth for the drops to fall and a little bit of cold for the flakes to freeze.”

  “Yes, that is the science.”

  “So, there’s a little bit of warmth going on right now.” Camille came to stand before her snuggled up in her winter coat, but she’d left the zipper undone.

  “Okay, smarty pants, get your warm booty in the car before I give you the cold shoulder.”

  Camille giggled as she hurried out the door. Kiara wished all their mornings could be like this, with a touch of levity. But if she wasn’t fighting to get Camille out the door, she was fighting with her car to get it started. Finally, after the fourth turn of her key, Bessy decided to wake up and start the day.