Confessions of a Rookie Cheerleader: A Novel

by Erika J. Kendrick

Overview

A savvy young music exec for Rockstar Records, Hannah Love has a glamorous apartment and a tight pack of equally fine friends. But luxury and loyalty can’t protect her from a broken heart, courtesy of her super-rich fiancé.

To recover, Hannah accelerates her already high-octane life by pursuing a fantasy she’s had since childhood: to become an NBA cheerleader for the Chicago Diamonds. As she juggles promoting the hottest singer on the rise, dodges advances from Rockstar’s ultra-slick VP, and puts her body and her will to the test during cut-throat tryouts for a spot on the Diamond Dolls squad, she receives the full attention of the team’s star player, Max Knight.

Though the Dolls are strictly forbidden to date players, the heat between Hannah and Max builds on the sidelines. But as catty cheerleaders plot against her, and her boss at the record company secretly negotiates a merger that could leave her jobless, Hannah discovers that it may take much more than the lust for a hot man to hold her steady. It may take his love.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780307494573
Publisher:	Random House Publishing Group
Publication date:	03/12/2009
Sold by:	Random House
Format:	eBook
Pages:	304
File size:	3 MB

About the Author

Erika J. Kendrick is an ex-professional cheerleader for the Chicago Bulls. She received her BA from Stanford University and an MBA in marketing and international business from the University of Illinois at Chicago; and has worked at Island Def Jam, Clive Davis’s J Records, and the legendary Apollo Theater. She is the president of the New York chapter of the National Association of Black Female Executives in Music and Entertainment. Erika lives in Manhattan.

Read an Excerpt

1
 
IT WAS MY VERY FIRST TIME.
 
My legs were spread-eagled in the air, and my heart raced into overdrive, heaving and palpitating, while my itty-bitty baby Bs glistened with beads of perspiration. Stretched out on my back, I stared down at the patch of long curlies, which ironically I'd trimmed for this special occasion after toying with the notion of designing little hearts and arrows into them. I wiped my clammy hands on the sheet beneath me and wondered whether I should leave my feet in the air, soles facing the ceiling, or bend my knees and lay my size tens flat beneath me. I'd seen this done before in the movies but couldn't remember proper positioning to save my life. I shut my sea-green eyes and winced at the thought of the painful experience I was about to endure.
 
Neither of my best friends had enjoyed their first time. They had strongly urged me to just do it and get it over with. “It hurts at first, but once you get used to it, you wonder how you could've gone twenty-eight years without it,” the two of them had said. The thought of the hot wet rod rubbing between my thighs and prepping me for the big one was more than I could bear. But I loved Daniel and wanted it to be right—perfect, even.
 
I pressed my thin legs down as far as they could go and gripped the sheet until my nails sank deep into my palms. The hard hot stick massaged every inch of me, making my coarse curlies clump together. I'd been told to take slow deep breaths and concentrate on something pleasant, but I didn't know how I was supposed to do that when my legs were soon gonna be pushed behind my head and my cheeks spread as far apart as they could go.
 
I forced my eyelids together and felt my body rise out of itself. I hovered over Hannah Marie Love and watched the petite girl with the big green eyes and abnormally big feet hold on for dear life. Her weaved wavy hair, which hung past the middle of her back, was damp, and her skin, normally a honey wheat hue with olive undertones, was now a ghostly pale pink. She bit down on her bottom lip and sucked in the oxygen from the tiny room and—
 
Yank!
 
The frail Russian woman snatched the waxy cloth from my outer lips, pulling with it every pubic hair I owned, instantly reuniting me with my body.
 
“Hooolllyyy Ssshhhiiit!” I screamed. Was she serious? “Are you serious?!”
 
Olga looked up at me and scowled, and I grew even more afraid. My eyes welled with tears, and I looked down at the strip of naked red skin between my legs. Who was I kidding?
 
“Wait. Wait!” I begged as she pressed the cloth against the area just below my bum. “Ahhh!” I yelped out again as she snatched away the hairy fabric. My eyes bulged so much that even Olga would understand why the kids in school had called me Bug.
 
Who the hell could get used to this? I'd waited twenty-eight years for this bitch of a Brazilian and could have waited another forever. The only reason I was even going through this hairy hell was that I'd wanted to do something special, different—something surprisingly spicy for the night Daniel and I were going to christen our first place together.
 
He had been on the road since we'd closed on our condo, and we hadn't had a chance to baptize it properly. Tonight he'd finally be flying home, and I wanted to surprise him by going that extra mile to give him a smooth landing strip for his ride in. But—“Aaahhh!” This was ridiculous. Nobody should be back there.
 
2
 
I TOOK A SIP OF SHIRAZ AND LOOKED AT THE CLOCK. 9:45 P.M. DANIEL WOULD BE walking through the door at any second and I still needed to jump in the shower and wash this tangled weave. After the nightmarish snatch wax, I'd stopped and picked up some Herbal Essences because he loved the way it smelled. He'd bury his nose in my hair and inhale the cheap shampoo just before grabbing my ass a little tighter and pulling me a little closer. And I'd be counting on that a little later.
 
I took another sip from the goblet and thought about how much I hated when he worked late like this. But his new position mandated that his girlfriend be extremely understanding—it was in the damn job description! Daniel had been trying to make the best impression on his new boss and colleagues since his transfer to Chicago from New York two weeks ago. And even though I was still trying to settle in and get everything situated, he'd hit the ground running as usual.
 
He'd called earlier to tease me about the “little surprise” he said he'd be bringing home. I'd taken a minute out of my own hectic day to pick up a little something for him, as well. After leaving Whole Foods on Huron with the shampoo and bottles of vino, I'd pulled over in front of Gucci on North Michigan and handed the valet the keys to my baby—a very yummy platinum-silver Range Rover with a peanut-butter leather interior. I'd hated giving my keys to pimple-faced strangers in red polyester vests ever since that infamous scene in Ferris Bueller, but today time just wasn't on my side. I'd wanted to stay on schedule, so I ran in and found the fabbest tie they had—in less than ten. Gucci had always been Daniel's favorite, and I figured he deserved a nice pick-me-up. He'd been working so hard to prove to everyone that he deserved that big promotion: Daniel Goldman, Senior Vice President of Finance at American Express. It was his biggest accomplishment to date and he'd taken to sleeping with his new business cards under his pillow. The only person happier was my Nana.
 
I refilled my glass, glad that I'd taken the time to pick him up the little love token. I floated through the dining room to the living room and over to the balcony of our new duplex and opened the French doors. I envisioned all the sun worshipers who would swarm Oak Street Beach in just a few months and the nightly Navy Pier fireworks parade that would take flight in the summer sky. But the March wind taunted me and quickly snapped me back into reality, reminding me where I was: the Windy City in winter. I promptly shut the doors, admiring the expansive view through the frosted windowpanes before making my way to the shower.
 
Daniel and I had closed on a three-thousand-square-foot penthouse in one of the hottest buildings in downtown Chicago's Gold Coast overlooking Lake Shore Drive. Everything about it screamed SEXY. I got goose pimples fantasizing about what our life was going to be like. Suddenly I couldn't wait for him to get home.
 
Everything was so perfect. I had the perfect job; I was reunited with the perfect friends, in love with the perfect man, living in the perfect condo, slinging the most perfect weave. It just didn't get any better than this!