LITMIR.BIZ

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      To my little cousins, Kristen and Korynn,

       who respectively grew from Kissi and Chubba

       to beautiful young women!

      contents

      Acknowledgments

      Spin It…

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      Stuck

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      Special Request

      Spin to Da End

      Discussion Questions

      A Discussion with the Author

      Acknowledgments

      To my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I thank You for Your grace and mercy and for Your multitude of blessings. I pray to be able to show the world through my writing that You are limitless.

      To my parents and my husband for your love and support.

      To my Taylor, Sydney, and Zion for bearing with me and my deadlines (LOL).

      To everyone who has ever supported me and my career, I thank you for your love, support, and encouragement.

      To my editors and publishing families, thanks for your support and for believing in my ability.

      To the fans, thanks for continuing to support me. I am forever grateful for people like you!

      And to all the little girls who dared to dream, I wrote this one especially for you! Be sure to email me at [email protected].

      Be Blessed,

      Ni-Ni Simone!

      SPIN IT…

      Track 1

      I used to think I was the only one in the world like me and then I realized that there were a zillion mes…this is just my story. And this is how it all started….

      I’d prayed for my boyfriend, but after a few years it was time to renegotiate. I wanted a new boo. Scratch that—I needed a new boo…and not any ole kinda boo, but a Hot Boy. Pants saggin’ and timbs draggin’. A Lil Wayne or a Haneef type boo—one who—

      “Elite,” my eight-year-old sister, Aniyah, interrupted me as she lifted her head from under the covers. “Can you tell God I want a boo, too? But I want a Patrick from SpongeBob type boo.”

      And who said I was talking to this chick?

      “Patrick?!” Aniyah’s fraternal twin, Sydney, butted in. She peeked her head out from under the covers and said, “He keeps losin’ his underwear.”

      “Well, you shouldn’t be lookin’!” Aniyah snapped, getting offended. “You’re way too grown!”

      Sydney moved her hand midway up her face. “You better talk to the hand, ’cause the face don’t understand.”

      “Oh, you got me twisted!”

      “Alright!” I snapped, and they quickly retreated back under the covers.

      I just wanted to put you down on this real quick: late at night, when the sun was setting and the moon was just right, I liked to pretend the ghetto twins didn’t exist. It was a little difficult, though, considering we not only shared a room, but they also slept at the foot of my bed. Which is why I made them go to sleep at least an hour before me, so I could have time to think. Otherwise, when would I have found time to get my famous boo fantasy on? Crazy, right? But not to me. That’s why I had been waiting for ten p.m.—I had an hour to go—to enter the radio contest sing for front row seats and a chance to be onstage with the hottest hip-hop and R & B sensation—Haneef!

      Real talk, Haneef was putting Usher, Chris Brown, Bow Wow, and Omarion to sleep. Well…maybe not Chris Brown, ’cause he was kinda fly, but still—you got the point. Li’l Daddy was doin’ it: six feet even, Hershey’s milk chocolate skin, beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, tight and tumbling muscles that went on into infinity, with a killah swagger like Jay-Z.

      Haneef was that even-when-you-saw-it-you-still-didn’t-believe-it type fine, and I was sure, every time he was on the radio, he was singing not only about me, but to me.

      My best friend Naja thought I was crazy. Whatever. Cause I never said a word when she was drooling over Flavor Flav.

      I looked at the clock—still a half hour to go. I decided to call Naja so we could practice what I was going to sing. As I reached for my boost mobile, it danced in my hand. It was Naja. Oh, did I mention she popped her gums before every sentence? “I’ve been staring at the clock,” she popped, “for five hours, and it’s movin’ slow as hell.”

      “Are the batteries dying?”

      “I think so, but the number on

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