THE DATING PROHIBITION by Taj McCoy
“Taj McCoy’s writing positively crackles
with energy, wit and humor.” —Jayci Lee, author of Booked on a
Feeling
In this spicy new rom-com, an ambitious entrepreneur working to get her
speakeasy supper club off the ground is pushed off balance when her childhood
crush turns up, hotter than ever––then tells her she's off-limits.
Now that Kendra’s returned home, she can’t help feeling like a kid again—back
in her big brother’s shadow, trying to get her restaurant off the ground while
his new venture is flying high right out the gate. It doesn’t help that
everyone refuses to stop calling her Keke, the childhood nickname she loathes.
The only bright spot is her longtime crush BJ. He’s been her big brother’s best
friend for most of her life, and he’s always been that cool, chill guy who was
easy to talk to and made her laugh. Now he’s looking at her like she’s all
grown up, and there’s nothing childish about the chemistry brewing between
them. Even better, he takes her dreams seriously, and he’s ready to help her
make her supper club a reality.
But then BJ extinguishes the sparks flying between them, insisting nothing
romantic can ever happen because she’s “off limits.” As her investors fall
through and her best chance at fulfilling her professional dreams points toward
leaving home again for a fresh start, will BJ be ready for love before Kendra
moves on? Or will he sweep her off her feet when she least expects it?
For fans of:
·
Brother's Best
Friend
·
Spicy Rom-Com
·
Childhood Crush
·
Off-limits
Romance
·
Ambitious
Heroine
·
Second Chances
Excerpted from The
Dating Prohibition by Taj McCoy © 2025 by Taj McCoy, used with
permission from HarperCollins/MIRA Books.
Snort! Kendra jolted awake, her face pressed against the
cool window shade. She forced a cough to clear her throat, her cheeks coloring
as she realized she’d been snoring. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone in
the neighboring seats had heard, and she rushed to wipe the side of her mouth,
checking for drool. No one in the row in front of her seemed to have noticed
anything, and she was thankful that most of the first- class passengers were
wearing noise-canceling headphones and watching in-flight movies.
Pull yourself together, girl. Taking a deep breath, she
covered her face with the palms of her hands, willing herself awake.
The sweet woman next to her patted her arm with a chuckle.
“You must have been tired, dear. You missed the meal and everything!”
Thank god I didn’t have to pay for this upgrade. Kendra
yawned and nodded in agreement. “I’ve traveled quite a bit in the past two
weeks. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.” I could honestly go back
to sleep right now.
“Are you heading home?”
Home.
She smiled tightly. “Yeah, something like that.” Truth was,
she’d been a tumbleweed for the past two years. Home was wherever she decided
to rest her head, though she’d been craving a place to plant her
roots—something she hadn’t been sure she’d ever do when she left. And she never
fathomed that she’d have a desire to return to the US to do so.
A chime sounded before a flight attendant spoke over the
loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our de- scent into Reagan
Washington National Airport. As we pre- pare for landing, please make sure your
seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright and locked position. Your
lap- tops should be put away and . . .”
Kendra offered a small smile to her neighbor. “Are you
returning home?”
The woman shook her head, the scent of her gourmand perfume
wafting over Kendra in waves of vanilla and toffee. “My daughter’s. She’s going
to be induced next week. My fourth grandbaby!” She grinned with pride and
rummaged through her purse, which she cradled in her lap protectively.
“Aw, congratulations! That’s so exciting.” A cell phone was
shoved in her face, showing three smiling kids, two missing their front teeth.
“They’re very cute.”
Once they landed and arrived at the gate, Kendra helped her
row mate with her bag and headed toward baggage claim as her phone pinged with
a text message.
Lani: Is you here yet?? Inquiring minds (aka your nosy
brother and your parents) want to know . . .
Kendra: The eagle has landed.
Lani: Tuh! I know you haven’t returned from Gulliver’s
travels with a big ass head SMH. Make sure you look like somethin before you
waltz your ass up in here . . .
She rolled her eyes and sent her cousin a middle finger
emoji before tucking her phone into her pocket. Returning home hit different
now that Kendra was deemed a failure—it felt like tucking tail and admitting
defeat after desperately trying to carve an uncharted path with nothing but
hope and a blunt instrument. Whether anyone would admit it, the hushed tones of
the family whisper network turned up the volume on every inadequacy and failed
attempt, and once again the grumblings shone a spotlight directly onto Kendra.
Always the fucking black sheep.
Kendra sighed, muttering to herself as she approached her
fifth red light in a row. “Now they’ll get to harp on the fact that I’m late.”
She glanced at the clock on her dashboard and shook her head with annoyance.
Having run home just long enough to drop off her suit- case
and pick up her car, she’d rushed back out before her family started blowing up
her phone. DC traffic was only predictable in that it was inevitable, and
finding parking was next to impossible. Sometimes, the search for parking took
as long as the commute. That never stopped Kendra from wanting to drive—yes,
one could take the Metro or ride- share to a destination, but that meant having
to depend on too many outside variables when she was ready to leave— she was
too much of a control freak to depend on the time- liness of others, and when
she wanted to go, she wanted to go. Waiting on others to do what she was more
than capable of doing herself drove her up the wall. Being the baby in the
family didn’t mean that she was any less capable than Big Bro.
Being away from home for two years left her second- guessing
directions and she cursed under her breath as she missed her exit from the same
traffic circle twice. At some point, people enjoying the park would begin to
think she was casing the neighborhood. Kendra bit her lip, her eyes widen- ing
as a car sped into the lane to her right as she attempted to maneuver over to
catch the exit on her third try. She slid into the lane behind the Prius that
had come out of nowhere and finally made the right turn out of the roundabout
from hell.
Kendra zipped through the congestion on Rhode Island Avenue,
having dropped all of her belongings off at the English basement apartment
below her brother’s row house. The family golden boy. Logan had stopped
offering the basement as a vacation rental when Kendra announced her return to
town, and she’d eagerly agreed to help launch his new business for a month or
two of free rent. Her best friend and cousin’s name appeared on the center
console screen of Kendra’s Audi Q3, and she pressed a button on her steering
wheel to answer her phone via the car’s Bluetooth system as she stopped at a
traffic light. “Hey, girl, hey!”
“You’re late, you know,” Lani quipped in a hushed tone,
evoking an immediate eye roll out of Kendra. “Everyone’s waiting for you to
make an appearance! Logan said he hasn’t even seen you yet.”
“Yeah, that’s the beauty of smart locks—there’s no longer a
need for me to knock on Logan’s front door and ask for a key to his basement.
It’s bad enough that the prodigal child has to return and immediately ask her
big brother for help for the umpteenth time.” Kendra chewed on her bottom lip,
willing her face to express less of her reluctance to come back to the DMV
area. It wasn’t that she didn’t love DC—she did—it was just that she was always
hidden by Logan’s shadow. It wasn’t his fault, and Kendra looked up to Big Bro
for everything he was able to accomplish, but sometimes his success sucked up
all of the oxygen in the room.
“Now, don’t be dramatic, Keke,” Lani chided in her sing-
songy voice.
Kendra bristled at her childhood nickname. “And remind me
again why you couldn’t just let me come and stay at your place? You know that
I’m not above bumming it on a couch.”
Lani tsked nonchalantly. “Come on, girl, no one should be
subjected to that much sex. Can’t have you telling my aunt and uncle about my
sexcapades. Your mom already thinks I’m too fast anyway.”
Kendra smirked. You are. “She already knows you’re fast,
heffa.”
“You told her?!” Lani’s hushed growl made Kendra cackle.
“You really don’t remember trying to sneak a boy into our house when you were
staying with us for spring break?” She’d been grounded for the rest of high
school and subjected to regular lectures about the birds and the bees. Auntie
Mack refused to be a grandmother early, so she made herself an impactful
prophylactic. Logan and all the boy cousins were tasked with looking out for
Lani and Kendra, as if the lot weren’t all
pussy-whipped themselves.
“Uh, that was a teenage mistake. Does Auntie Al think I’m
fast too? You haven’t told her anything recent, right?” Lani’s whispering was
more of an exasperated shout with the volume turned down. “If she thinks I’m up
to anything, she’ll tell my mom, and then I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Girl, your mom has known since you started wearing all that
eyeliner in middle school,” Kendra chuckled. “And that mulberry lipstick? You
thought you were serving. You’d hit ’em with the duck lips and hands on your
hips anytime some- one tried to take a picture.”
Lani groaned. “Shut up, there’s a difference between duck
lips and a smize. And thought? Bitch, I was stuntin’ on them hos.”
Kendra could practically hear the hair flip on the other
side
of the line. “Mmmkay, well, back to what I was saying. I
could be at your place hearing sex-foolery, but instead I’m up under Logan . .
. again.” Thankfully there was a main floor between Kendra’s unit and her
brother’s bedroom, so she was absolved from having to hear his sexcapades, but
still.
“Well, but it’s only temporary, and besides, the savings is
good for you while you’re still in the planning stages of
opening up your own spot.”
“Why must you be reasonable?” Kendra whined. Every- thing
Lani said was true, but the closer she got to the bistro location that Logan
and his wife, Shonda, were opening together, the more Kendra’s stomach
performed a Simone Biles– level floor exercise—one of those extra good ones
that would eventually be named after her because no one else could perfect it
the way she could.
“One of us has to be reasonable, so suck it up, buttercup.
Now, what’s your ETA?” Lani was resistant to Kendra’s shit— she had a
no-nonsense approach to pretty much everything and didn’t believe in coddling
unless she needed it herself. It didn’t help that, as cousins born two weeks
apart, they’d been best friends since they shared a playpen. Lani knew all of
Kendra’s tactics.
“I’m about to park. Give me a minute or two to gather
myself, and then I’ll be in.” Well, maybe five minutes.
“Bet. Oh, and be careful when you walk in here, Keke—
Stanley just waxed the floors.”
“Noted.” Kendra steered her car into the first open parking
spot. “I’ll be in there in a few.”
“’Kay, bye.”
The phone disconnected, and Kendra took a deep breath. What
is awaiting me inside? She cursed herself for not asking who all would be
present to help put the finishing touches on the restaurant before its opening
in a few days. As she closed her eyes to meditate, her phone rang again. She
jabbed at the button on her steering wheel. “We literally just hung up, Lani.”
“Well, don’t sit out in your car forever either. Someone
already mentioned that they saw you pull up.”
Kendra rolled her eyes, kissing her teeth. “Get off my
phone, ma’am. I need a sec.” Leave me be!
Lani dropped her voice to a gruff whisper. “Bring yo’ ass
in here, ho. A certain someone been askin’ about you.” She
drew out the last word teasingly. “Take a fuckin’ hint,” she whispered through
gritted teeth.
Kendra’s face scrunched up as her head tilted, her mind
racing to run through the list of everyone she expected to be present in these
final days of prep before the big launch. “Who?”
“Mr. Big and Sexy, the chocolate drop himself.”
Huh? Kendra blew out a breath loudly, pinching the bridge of
her nose. “Cousin, that description applies to half of the brothas in the DMV.
Can you be more specific?”
“If you don’t carry your behind on You know what?
We don’t have time for this.” Lani’s hushed tone changed to
a loud call. “Hey, look, y’all. I think that’s Keke’s car right there!” Voices
in the background converged into a jumble drowned out by a peal of villainous
laughter.
I’m gonna kill her. “Lani!” Kendra snapped as the call
disconnected. So much for a moment of peace. She inhaled deeply, exhaling
through her mouth before wiping the scowl from her face and climbing out of the
car into a light breeze that made her pull her coat lapels closer to her neck.
She flung her tote bag over her shoulder as she crossed the narrow side street
to enter the front door of the brightly lit restaurant with a giant banner and
the word PALATE set between a set of cutlery. “Here we go,” she muttered.
As Kendra stepped onto a narrow welcome mat just inside the
glass door, which had been propped open to allow in the sharp almost-spring
air, the scents of fresh paint and oranges wafted toward her. She peered around
the dining room in search of the chocolate drop Lani was hinting about, making
eye contact with her brother, Logan, and her sister-in-law, Shonda, whose face
brightened as she headed toward the end of the bar to show some love. “Hey, you
made it!”
“Yeah, I . . . whoa shit!” Kendra took one step forward and
slipped, fully expecting to be met with the well-polished lacquered hardwood
when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and righted her, the warmth of a
large hand imprinting the small of her back as her legs wobbled. “Right,
careful with the floors . . . Thanks,” she laughed with embarrassment.
“Been a long time, Kenny,” a gravelly baritone voice caused
her head to jerk upward. His sturdy six-foot frame drew closer, holding her
against his hip so that she could steady herself. The scents of smoky oud and
tobacco emanated from his skin. Kendra gulped as her eyes widened. Damn, he got
even finer.
BJ Stephens glowered at her curiously, the same way he had
when they were teenagers, and Kendra’s cheeks warmed as she took in his smooth
umber skin. She’d never seen him in jeans and work boots before, but the look
suited him.
“Hey, B, long time. How you been?” She reached up to wrap
her arms around his neck as his wound around her waist. As she turned her head
to peck his cheek, he moved slightly and her lips landed at the angle of his
jaw, just below his ear, his closely-groomed beard soft against her skin. Her
eyes bulged as she stepped back, unsure whether he’d think she tried to kiss
his neck on purpose. Clumsy and awkward . . . we’re off to a great start. She
made space between them, willing her cheeks not to broadcast her embarrassment.
She cleared her throat before looking up at him.
BJ’s dark, spectacled eyes trained on her, his expression
unreadable. “Good. But you’re the one who’s been gone. How were your travels?
Last I heard, you were cooking your way through Asia and Europe.”
Kendra beamed, nodding. “I loved every minute of it. Ap-
prenticed under a few chefs, caught up with a few cousins when I hit Thailand
and the Philippines. Collected a ton of cooking techniques and recipes. Made
some new friends and gave a few lessons on Creole cooking.”
“You didn’t make new friends at the expense of old ones, I
hope.” The corners of his mouth twitched, drawing Kendra’s attention to his
full lips. It always took a lot to make BJ smile. A laugh was even more rare
but craveable. As long as Kendra had known her brother’s best friend, she never
was good at reading him. Once in a while, he’d allow his face to show his
playfulness, but most of the time, his underwhelmed, almost gruff expression
remained constant. Joy, pain—even annoyance—were less common expressions than
the general grumpy-observer vibe he gave off. But behind the prickly mask was
an intelligent, loyal, good human who often put others before himself.
“Never that,” she laughed. They’d known each other for over
two decades—ever since her family had relocated from New Orleans to the
nation’s capital. Kendra had been in middle school, and Logan was just about to
start high school. He met BJ his first day of classes, and they became fast
friends after almost coming to blows over the attentions of the same girl.
Logan had brought BJ home for some of Momma’s cooking to make amends, and the
rest was history—Momma won over many hearts with her Creole family recipes, and
BJ’s was no exception. Logan had been lucky. Truth be told, BJ would have
whooped his ass.
BJ was a gym rat to the core, but as focused as he was on
macros to build muscle mass, he made two exceptions without question: Momma’s
cookin’ and good whiskey. As he solidified his place within the family’s inner
circle, he’d always been the one to mediate Kendra’s arguments with her
brother—a dependable voice of reason who wasn’t quick to pick sides.
Kendra and Logan never fought physically—Momma would never
allow that—but Kendra would cut to the white meat with her words, and when she
went low, Logan went straight to the depths of hell. “You still enjoying the
professor life? I heard you were awarded tenure while I was out of the country.
Congratulations are in order! I was really excited to hear the news. You’ve
worked so hard to get to this place.”
His head bobbed as he smoothed a hand over his facial hair.
The top half of his dark, shoulder-length locs were twisted and tied back away
from his face as he regarded her intently. “Thanks! Yeah, it’s been good so
far, but I’m on sabbatical this semester. I need to do some research for my
next book proposal.”
BJ taught courses on historic preservation, focusing on
heritage conservation, architectural history and preservation, urban planning,
and adaptive reuse. Most of it went over Ken- dra’s head, but she loved that he
focused a good amount of his work on Black heritage tourism. The way that he
highlighted the importance of transforming abandoned sites to frame and
highlight pivotal points in history had always been a source of inspiration for
her.
Kendra tilted her head. “About that, actually, maybe I can
pick your brain about something later. I’ve got something brewing businesswise,
and it’s right up your alley.” She tapped his arm with her fingers and admired
the results that his hard work in the gym had developed.
BJ’s eyebrows rose, but Lani slid across the floor Risky
Business–style right into Kendra’s arms before he could respond. He nodded
brusquely and sauntered back toward the bar, where Logan was installing some
shelving.
“Bitch, you made it!” Her cousin squeezed Kendra tightly
before stepping back to assess her appearance, a wrinkle forming between her
eyebrows. Lani was all about vibrant colors, and Kendra’s palette was much more
neutral, so she was al- ways being bullied to step outside of her comfort zone
and into prints that she found too busy, too bright, too attention- grabbing.
Lani was in a pair of ripped, acid-washed blue jeans and a loud color-blocked
sweater with bright red sneakers. She narrowed her eyes at what she would
consider to be low frequencies emanating from Kendra’s look.
Kendra dropped a hand onto her hip and posed. “Don’t play
me, I know I look good.” Her coffee-colored duster over a white cropped tee and
white high-waisted jogger pants hugged her curves and made her feel clean, like
fresh air after a hard rain. She’d pulled her thick, silk-pressed tresses into
a sleek ponytail, and per usual, her shades sat on top of her head like a
headband. Kendra ran her fingers through her pony- tail, curling the ends
around her index finger, and popped her tongue playfully.
Lani leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Mmm-hmm. And a certain
someone noticed too.”
“Who? Stanley? I wouldn’t exactly describe him as a
chocolate drop. Maybe more like a hazelnut latte.” Kendra tilted her head,
assessing the occupants of the room. There was Logan and Shonda, BJ, Auntie Al,
Shonda’s sister Bree, Kendra’s par- ents, and Stanley, who was staring at Lani
like she stole some- thin’. Logan had a team of people that he’d walked back
toward the kitchen, who Kendra assumed were the new restaurant staff. BJ was
carrying cartons of wine and spirits down to the basement cellar. Kendra’s mom
and Aunt Alisa were pretending to wipe down the counters, but they’d been
hovering over the same spot at the bar pointing at Kendra and whispering. The
family motto should be: “Subtlety? We don’t know her.”
Stanley’s tall and lean build was squeezed behind some
shelving that he was putting together for a wall display. Ken- dra’s dad,
Braxton, was reading the assembly instructions aloud to Stanley, whose
attention remained trained on Lani, who seemed completely unaware. Kendra made
eye contact with Shonda across the room, gesturing slightly with her chin
toward Stanley, and Shonda’s smile grew wide. She nodded slowly, steepling her
fingers like a mastermind with an evil plan. Kendra winked in response.
“Not Stanley, silly. BJ was asking about you,” Lani
whispered, her arm entwined with Kendra’s to keep her from slip- ping again.
BJ? Kendra’s face screwed up into a giant question mark.
“Huh? Why?”
Her cousin shrugged. “I’ve been clocking it for the last
week. Anytime your name was brought up, he was all ears.”
“I mean, we’ve known the guy a long time, so that doesn’t
feel out of the ordinary to me. We haven’t seen each other in years.” Kendra’s
last post before her travels was in Silicon Valley. She often returned home for
the holidays, but BJ al- ways went to be with his parents in Charlotte. When
Kendra had been laid off from her role as a chief data officer for a thriving
startup that was absorbed by a tech giant, she’d taken her generous severance
package and savings to do some soul- searching around the globe. BJ had checked
in once in a while to ask where she was and how she was doing. He’d always been
thoughtful in that way.
After visiting family in Thailand and the Philippines,
Kendra went to parts of Europe and finished off her trip in New Orleans
spending quality time with her Granny. Each destination brought her new
adventures and lessons in the culinary world and in determining what tools she
would use to pave her path. Everyone in the family had built a legacy in their
own way, and it finally felt like Kendra’s turn.
“There’s my ray of sunshine!” Kendra’s dad opened his arms
and wrapped her into a warm hug, the scent of tobacco smoke lingering on his
jacket.
She squeezed him tight, tucking her chin for her father to
kiss her forehead. “Daddy! Mmm, what cigar were you smoking? It smells spicy.”
“Your brother bought me a box of maduros, so we decided to
have some coffee and sample them before we got started today.” Her dad’s
bronzed skin and thick, straight hair was tousled with some sort of product.
Born in Los Angeles to a Filipino mother and a Thai father, he was the
embodiment of California, wearing a jean jacket over a light sweater and
slacks. When he met his wife, Regina, at George Washington University, he
embraced DC with her, setting down roots, eventually convincing Auntie Al and
Uncle Ronnie to move up from New Orleans to experience all four seasons. Their
time in DC was cut short as they moved back to New Orleans when they started
their family––free childcare was worth the return, thanks to Granny and PawPaw.
Once Kendra and Logan were old enough to fend for
themselves, Braxton and Regina moved back into their DC home, which they’d
rented out while down south. Auntie Mack fell in love with Charleston, and
Kendra’s maternal grandmother remained in New Orleans alone now that Paw- Paw
had passed. Her paternal grandparents remained in Los Angeles, giving her a
reason to get some California sunshine whenever possible, but she’d caught them
on their annual trip to visit family during her time in Asia.
“That’s a bold move to start with a maduro, but you know I
like those. Especially if the coffee happened to be Irish.” Kendra shared a
knowing glance with her father as she pulled back, his arm still around her
waist.
Braxton Porter kissed his daughter’s cheek, lowering his
voice to barely a whisper before winking at her mischievously. “Your brother
and I may have already had an Irish coffee or two out on the patio. Don’t tell
your mother.”
Kendra giggled, raising her hands in surrender. “Your secret
is safe with me.” They walked toward the bar area, which was painted a deep
emerald green with creamy quartz countertops and golden fixtures. The
herringbone pattern in the cherrywood flooring gleamed with gradients of
reddish browns. “Wow, this place is gorgeous,” she gushed.
Natural light flooded in through massive picture windows
dressed with velvet curtains the color of the faintest blush. On the
windowsills were decorative vases and small plants, like succulents and snake
plants—ones that didn’t require a lot of attention. On the walls were several
blown-up photographs from Logan and Shonda’s travels as they’d hit different
countries on their bucket list and sampled different cuisines to find the right
balance of flavors to feature on their menu of global fare. BJ had busied
himself hanging another portrait, and Kendra studied his profile, taking in the
broadness of his shoulders and the way his Henley sleeves were pushed up to his
forearms, the fabric over his chest and arms hugging his physique. This man
just gets better with age . . .
“Yo, can you chill, cuz? You are lookin’ at him like he’s a
four-course meal and you wanna come back for seconds . . .”
Kendra froze, her neck and cheeks immediately coloring at
Lani’s observation. “Say it louder, I think the kitchen staff didn’t hear you!”
Kendra hissed, her attention snapping away from the strong arms lifting a
black-and-white photograph of a wine cellar full of barrels on a long wall
leading toward the unisex bathrooms.
BJ glanced in her direction before returning to his task and
leveling the frame. Heat crawled up the column of Kendra’s throat, her skin
boiling as she stared her cousin down.
“If he heard you, I swear on all things holy that I will
tell your mom all about how her favorite cashmere sweater got ruined.” Kendra
wiggled her fingers like she was casting a spell on her cousin.
“You wouldn’t.” Lani’s eyes darted around in a panic. As
teenagers, she and Kendra snuck out to meet some boys, and Lani swiped her
mom’s ultrasoft cardigan to wear over a barely there tank top and coochie
cutters. The fast heffa swore the sweater added a level of sophistication to
her look. Suffice it to say that it was St. Patty’s Day, and she spilled a
green pint of beer on the luxe creamy knit, leaving a giant mint-colored swatch
that she couldn’t explain. Instead, Lani framed the family dog and asserted
that he’d dragged the sweater outside into the grass. Auntie Mack was
devastated.
Kendra’s sinister smile spread like the Grinch stealing
Christmas. “Try me.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Oakland-born law grad
Taj McCoy is committed to championing stories that include Black and
multiracial women of color, plus-size protagonists, Black love, Black joy, and
strong senses of sisterhood and familial bonds. Taj started writing as a small
child, enjoying her first publications in elementary school. When she's not
writing, Taj may be on Twitter boosting other marginalized writers, practicing
yoga, sharing recipes, or cooking private supper club meals for close friends.
Social Links:
Author website: https://www.tajmccoywrites.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/tajmccoywrites
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the1whowill
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20626681.Taj_McCoy
