Page 1 of A Little Naughty

PROLOGUE

Here’s what you need to know…

JEMIMA

“Iwant a little black dress and a pickup truck, and I want a guy to tell me my blue eyes put the stars to shame.” I’m sitting on the ground with my big sister Cass in front of our aunt Carol’s house in Eureka, South Carolina.

The sun is bright yellow in a pale blue sky. Not a cloud is in sight, and if you hold your breath, you can hear the ocean hissing a little ways away.

We’ve been at Aunt Carol’s a few months now, since our mom decided she wanted to be a big country-music star in Branson. She’s back for a visit, but I’m not interested in what she does. I love being here, near the beach, with my sister.

“I wouldn’t argue with him either.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Cass scolds gently, brushing my blonde hair into ringlets around her fingers. “You’re too little to be thinking about boys so much.”

“I’m not too little.” I look up at the big sky. The heat toasts my skin and the humidity makes me sweat, but the ocean breeze is always blowing. “I want to get stuck on backroads and dance under the moon.”

“Until you have to walk all the way home in the dark.”

“What do you know? You’ve never kissed a boy.”

“I’ve been in a broke-down car, and it’s not as romantic as the song makes it sound.”

“You’ve been in a broke-down car withMom.”

Cass wraps my hair in a band, lifting it off my neck, and I think nothing could be better than spending a summer riding around Eureka with the windows down and staying up all night dancing.

“I can’t wait to kiss a boy.”

Turning, I lay my head in her lap and wrap my arms around her waist. Cassidy is three years older, but she’s sweet to me. When we sleep together at night, she sings Abba songs and scratches my back until I fall asleep.

She has a better singing voice than our momma, but she says she’s too embarrassed to sing in front of people. I’m not embarrassed, but I don’t sing as good as either of them.

“Get in the car, Jemima.” Momma’s voice is sharp, and I can tell she’s been fighting with Aunt Carol again.

Every time she fights with Aunt Carol her cheeks flush, and she jerks my arm too hard.

I sit up slowly. “Why? Where are we going?”

Cass nudges my side, and I stand with her. Then I reluctantly follow her to where our mom is throwing suitcases into the backseat.

She turns and puts a hand on her cocked hip. “We’re going back to Branson.”

Her dark brown hair is long to her knees, and she has blue eyes like mine. It’s the only thing we have in common—except the little fly-aways haloing her face in the humidity.

“I don’t want to go to Branson.” I put my arm around Cass’s waist. “I want to stay here.”

My sister stands straighter. “I’ll go with you, Momma.”

“You’re too big. Jemma’s little. She needs to be with her mother.”

“No, I don’t!” I shriek.

“Shut up, Jemima, and get in the car.” Mom jerks my arm so hard, it feels like it might pop out of the socket.

I try to struggle against her. She’s too strong, and I’m shoved into the backseat of her gold Ford Taurus like another piece of luggage, trapped by the slamming of the door.

“You need somebody to take care of you.” Cassidy jogs around the car beside her, and I almost wish Momma would listen.

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