Sparks Fly

A late bloomer thought a visit to a sex club might jump start her love life, but instead makes an instant connection that turns her whole world upside down, in this adult debut from author Zakiya N. Jamal. When Stella Renee Johnson''s roommate invites her to a sex club party but bails at the last minute, Stella decides to use;the opportunity to finally cash in her;V-card. But just when things are heating up between Stella and a sexy stranger, they realize they don’t have protection and Stella, taking it as a sign this wasn''t meant to be, flees. Frustrated in more ways than one, Stella is shocked to learn that the digital media website where she works is partnering with an AI company. She''s even more shocked when the alluring man from the previous night walks in. Max Williams is the CEO''s brother and the creator of the AI program now threatening her job.; Despite the conflict of interest, Stella and Max can''t resist their magnetic attraction toward each other, and agree to keep their personal lives separate from what’s happening at work. But the more similarities they discover at home--both Black, book smart, and bisexual--the more they butt heads at work. Stella and Max must decide whether to think with their heads and walk away from their budding relationship, or follow their hearts and take a chance on love, no matter the cost.

Autorentext

Zakiya N. Jamal was born in Queens, raised in Long Island, and currently resides in Brooklyn. In other words, she’s a New Yorker through and through. She holds a BA in English from Georgetown University and a MFA in Creative Writing with a concentration in Writing for Children and Young Adults from The New School. Her debut novel If We Were a Movie will be published in 2025 by HarperTeen.

Leseprobe
One

Stella Renee Johnson was going to lose her virginity in a sex club.

Maybe.

Currently, she was standing in line outside a sex club, but still. If you would've told her past self (meaning the person she was twenty-four hours ago) that she'd be in the skimpiest black dress she owned with a black-and-gold feathered mask that covered half her face, waiting to get into New York City's most elite sex club for its annual Valentine's Day masquerade party, she would've laughed in your face. The only believable part of this whole thing was that it was her best friend Chelsea's idea, and naturally Chelsea was running late.

Chelsea was supposed to meet Stella at their shared apartment after work, but when Stella got home Chelsea was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a note telling Stella to go on ahead and Chelsea would meet her in line. Now Stella was getting incredibly close to the entrance and Chelsea was still MIA. Every time the line moved forward an inch, Stella considered stepping out of it, but then she felt that the minute she finally did give up, Chelsea would come and they'd have to get on the back of the line.

So she stayed.

Now, though, there were only four or five couples ahead of her and she could see the large bouncer flipping through the guest list. Stella could feel a bead of sweat rolling down her back, and she began shifting from foot to foot and tapping her hands across her thighs as if she was doing an impromptu step routine. It was a nervous habit that always drove her mother crazy. Stella couldn't help it, though. When she got anxious, she got fidgety.

Deciding to give her hands something else to do, Stella pulled out her phone to call Chelsea for the hundredth time, and it started vibrating in her hand.

"Where are you?" Stella hissed by way of greeting.

"Okay, please don't hate me."

Stella heaved out a sigh, already knowing where this was going. Chelsea was Stella's best friend and she loved her, truly, but Chelsea was quite possibly the flakiest person she'd ever known.

"You remember that hot tattoo artist I've been kind of seeing," Chelsea started. She didn't wait for Stella to respond before continuing. "Okay, well she hit me up because she has an extra ticket to see Ari Lennox tonight. ARI! LENNOX! Anyway, we're here now and I thought I'd be able to see her and run over to the club after, but she's late and hasn't gone on yet so I'm not going to make it."

The line moved forward again, and at this point, Stella could make out the creases in the bouncer's forehead. It was time to get out of line, but after having been here for half an hour with nothing to show for it, Stella wasn't ready to give up yet.

"Chelsea, I swear to God, just leave the concert and come here now," Stella said. She knew she was whining, but she was frustrated and nervous. She had no business going into a sex club tonight, much less on her own.

When Chelsea had barged into Stella's room last night, talking about how she got two free tickets to a party at Red as Sin, her favorite sex club, Stella was confused about what that had to do with her. Then Chelsea insisted Stella should go with her and "get the whole losing-your-virginity thing over with." As if Stella had been holding herself back from having sex this whole time and not actively trying to find "the one" for what felt like her whole life.

It wasn't that Stella felt she had to wait to be married to have sex or anything like that. She'd gotten past that part of her religious upbringing when she realized she was suspiciously born three months after her parents' wedding. No, it was more that Stella wanted to love, or at the very least like, the person she was going to sleep with. A random casual hookup had never appealed to Stella.

This wasn't the case for Chelsea, however. Both the idea of needing to love someone before having sex with them and not being able to find a quick hookup with just a few swipes on Tinder. Every so often, usually when Stella was ovulating, she'd dare to consider just getting it over with and meeting up with the hottest person who showed a speck of interest. Unfortunately, while Chelsea got ten matches a day, Stella was lucky if she got ten matches a month. Or rather, ten good matches. If Stella wanted to hook up with a guy who started their conversation with "Nice tits!" she'd have plenty more options.

But anyway.

In truth, this whole debacle was really Stella's fault. At the start of the year she'd made the mistake of telling Chelsea that she was officially giving up on love. That the next time she had the opportunity to have sex, even if it was with a rando who was only interested in her "nice tits," she would just go for it. That way, even if she couldn't have love, she could at least find out if sex was really worth all the hype.

While Stella would tell Chelsea and anyone who listened that having or not having sex shouldn't define a person because virginity was a concept created by the patriarchy, at twenty-seven years old, Stella was tired of feeling like she was missing out on this big thing everyone else had experienced. Sure, she had her toys and porn and romance novels, but she wanted to actually know what it was like to get horizontal (or vertical) with an actual real-life person.

Moreover, she wanted to know what it felt like to be the object of someone's desires, if only for a night. She wanted to know what it was to be attracted to someone and have them be so attracted to her, too, that they could barely keep their hands off each other.

In other words, as her therapist had put it, Stella was craving intimacy, and she was tired of trying to find the perfect person to give it to her, because quite frankly she was beginning to believe that person didn't exist.

Much less inside a sex club.

Still, if there was one place she should be able to, without a doubt, get laid, it would be Red as Sin and so she stayed in line.

"I can't just ditch Tattoo Artist!" Chelsea said, pulling Stella back to their conversation.

Stella almost pointed out that by not ditching th…