Billy Jeffers: Rockers of Steel (32 page)

I purchased the house from his father in my name alone. William Sr. was very eager to unload it. Billy was present at closing. It wasn’t like he hadn’t faked a fondness or at least tolerance for him when Penelope was involved.

His father asked if he would drop the judgment now, and Billy told him flat out, “No.”

While Billy was on tour, we moved everything out of the rented shit space we had been using as a makeshift factory and into Secret Escape, the house in Connecticut.

Penelope was over-the-moon excited, like any eighteen-year-old girl would be, to move back into her home.

The projects that stopped when Billy shut off his father’s ability to do any more monetary damage as far as construction were finished to Penelope’s specifications.

Regardless of how wrong they were, Billy’s parents seemed to genuinely love one another, and Penelope and their mother bonded immediately.

I found Penelope crying one day and asked if she was okay.

She held up a journal. “She loved me. She wrote to me every year on my birthday. Every year, Madison. She wrote whenever we crossed paths, whenever she saw something in the paper about me … I know she loved me. I just wish Billy could stop being angry at them.”

“Did she tell you Billy was angry at her for that?”
Because if she did, I am gonna kick her ass and throw her under the bus.

“No, I can just tell,” she answered, holding the book to her chest. “I understand that deceit hurts. I hope he can forgive because I have.”

What an eighteen-year-old girl like Penelope, who found out after the death of her parents that she was kept in the dark for much of her life, didn’t need to know was that Billy’s forgiveness was all around her. He forgave the only way he could. What I knew about him was that forgetting was going to be the problem. Who could blame him?

I left it alone for her, for me, and for Billy.

Three weeks, fourteen shows, too many miles, and too many minutes apart … I am now standing at Newark International Airport with a sign in my hand like a total rock groupie whore, waiting for him to come through security. I can’t wait to get me some Billy Jeffers.

He would have been here an hour earlier with the rest of the band if the stupid bitch who took over my job at Forever Four was as capable at her job as I was when I worked there.

Okay, maybe that’s harsh, but I missed him.

When he walks through the security wall, my lady parts clench, and I almost forget to hold up my sign.

His hair is all over the place, his five o’clock shadow is set at about five thirty, and his jeans are riding low enough that, when he reaches up to fix his hair, I see the V and literally clench my knees together at the exact moment he spots me.

He blows out a breath and bites his lip.

I can’t stand there with my sign folded much longer, so I open it long enough for him to see it, praying no one else did.

His jaw drops then quickly snaps shut. He looks me up and down. Then, when he gets to me, he grabs me around the waist and picks me up, kissing me hard, just the way I like it.

He takes the sign out of my hand and asks, “Is this true?”

“
Pft
, you know it is.”

He sets me down and takes my hand. Then he tosses the sign in the garbage and rushes us out of the airport.

He sees the Jeep across the road and looks at me suspiciously.

I toss him the keys. “You drive.”

As soon as he pulls out, he reaches over and tugs at the belt on my red, knee-length trench coat.

“Easy there, hot stuff.” I laugh and playfully slap his hand away.

“Bullshit, you don’t hold up a sign that says, ‘
I’m naked and wet
,’ in an airport if you don’t expect me to slip a finger in so I can find out for myself.”

He unbuttons his pants, and out he pops. Before I have the chance, he grabs my hand and holds it around him.

“Fuck,” he groans as he slides our hands up and down his length.

“You have the most aesthetically pleasing cock in the world,” I say as I lick my lips, trying to retain the moisture.

He pulls the belt on my coat, and it falls open. He groans. “Fuck. Me.”

We are meeting a few fabric suppliers in New York for the weekend to talk about adding a swimwear line.

I sneak out of the room and wait for Madison to call. An hour later, she does.

“Where are you?”

“I just stepped out. I was thinking about grabbing some breakfast; care to join me?”

“Billy,” she grumbles.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” She is a little grumpy yet not argumentative.

“Great, I’ll text you the address.”

“I need a shower.”

“Me, too, so just hold off. Throw on those big, black sunglasses of yours and throw your hair up. This is the quietest I have ever seen the city. Come on, sweet thing; it’s a beautiful day.”

“Fine, text me the address.”

Billy: 727 5th Ave. I love you.

Send.

I take a deep breath each time a yellow taxicab drives by while I wait. I can’t wait to see her face.

The fourth time, I set the bag on the ground and sneak around the corner, and it happens to be her. I watch from my spot as she gets out, her hair up, black sunglasses on, and wearing a black trench coat.

Her smile broadens when she looks at the window to the store and walks up.

From inside Tiffany’s, I tap on the glass, and she jumps then looks at me like I am crazy, and I may just be.

I point down at the bag, and she picks it up. I use my hands to tell her to open it. Inside is a coffee and donut.

She shakes her head and laughs as she pulls it out. When I walk quietly outside, she is leaning in to see me.

“Hi,” I say softly so she doesn’t startle.

“You are crazy.” She laughs. “Breakfast at Tiffany’s, huh?”

“In the movie, Holly comes here to escape reality. It’s her place to feel safe, feel secure. It’s everything the outside world is not. Well, Madison Black, that’s what you are to me. You are my escape.”

I take a deep breath and pull out the little blue box from behind my back and kneel on one knee.

Her hand covers her heart, and she takes in a deep breath.

“You okay?”

“It’s true.” She points to the box. “The little blue box does make your heart beat faster.”

“Good. Nothing pleases me more than making that happen.” I smile, and she laughs then covers her mouth.

“Oh, God.”

“Okay, maybe hearing those words pleases me more. But one word from you right now will never be topped.” I open the box. “Marry me?”

“Yes.”

USA Today
Bestselling author MJ FIELDS grew up on a farm surrounded by her extended family. She attributes her ability to write a realistic male character to the fact that she had a large amount of male influences in her life… that and the dirty joke books she would steal from her uncles or the farms hired help and run away laughing while they chased her yelling obscenities trying to get her to return the books before her God fearing mother found out and spanked her butt with a flyswatter.

No she wasn’t physically abused, she very openly admits that she deserved every imprint left on her ass from the flyswatter. (Could this be why she loves tattoos? Maybe.) After each spanking she would run away, usually through the fields and down to the falls where she would laugh because it really didn’t hurt, while she read the book she had stolen and stashed when no one was looking.

When she wasn’t misbehaving she was working side by side with her male family members learning what hard work, loyalty, and dedication was all about, spending time with her grandmothers who taught her all about love and blind faith, or dancing and singing in the kitchen with her four siblings while her mother gave them all a childhood filled with love and encouragement to use their imagination and follow their dreams.

Her love of writing was in full swing by age eight. Together with her cousins, she wrote a ‘newspaper’ that they sold for ten cents to family members. Her school years were spent hanging in the principal’s office or a shit list somewhere. Weekends she could be found spending time with her family or hanging out with more males than females, in the fields with tailgates down and a bonfire burning while music played loudly in the background. Some of those times ‘allegedly’ had alcohol involvement, she will neither confirm nor deny.

As an adult she self-published her first New Adult romance in January 2013. Today she has completed seven self-published series. The Love series, The Wrapped series, The Burning Souls series, The Norfolk series, The Men of Steel series, The Ties of Steel series, and The Rockers of Steel. She also just released a book she wrote with five, yes five, other authors. It is her darkest book to date. The Original Sin is available now.

MJ has been told by several readers that they had never read a book that involved a Prince Albert piercing and although she cannot claim the title, it is said she may possibly be “The Pioneer of the Pierced Penis”, in the New Adult book world, of course. (Naughty naughty.)

MJ is a hybrid author who loves her readers and tries her best to write as much as she can for them. She believes she has the best reader’s crew in the entire world (Many of us agree. Forever Steel baby). She publishes an Indie book almost every month. She is also signed with a traditional publisher, Loveswept, Penguin Random House, for her co-written series The Caldwell Brothers with Chelsea Camaron. Hendrix and Morrison, are available now. The third in the series, will be released on April 12, 2016.

Her next Indie release is May 8
th
, The Unsociable Dater, MATCH THIS!

There is always something new in the works and she has stories to write for her readers for years to come. Her alpha male characters are some of the best in the industry, but remember before they fall many of them can be considered crude, rude, pierced, and tattooed. (Just the way we like them!)

If you are offended by the ‘F’ word she advises you either take a pass on her books or pull up your big girl thong, sit back with a glass of wine and enjoy the ride. If you can’t handle the heat you should stay out of the … well the Steel and Sin book worlds anyways. If heat is all you’re looking for she insists you be warned the heat will draw you in, but the heart, depth, and emotion in the books will keep you coming back for more.

MJ was a former small business owner who closed shop after the success of the Men of Steel series so she could write full time.

MJ Lives in central New York surrounded by family, friends and fur babies. Ninety percent of the time life is a noisy, beautiful, chaotic mess but in the evening hours when everyone is tucked in tight you will find her with a laptop in her comfy chair writing about the men we dream will step off the pages and into our lives.

MJ believes in love and that there is someone for everyone.

For more information go to
www.mjfieldsbooks.com

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