Every City Girl Needs a Country Boss: Mahogany & Miguel

By Tykeisha

In this story, Mahogany, a 24-year-old aspiring journalist, has her entire life planned out and has since middle school. When she lands an interview to be a writer for the magazine, She Mail, she thinks that she's on her way to pursuing her dreams. Until she meets Miguel and realizes that, when it comes to her, he has other plans...

Mahogany knows that the next step in living her dream life is to begin the career that she always wanted. She doesn't want any handouts; her goal is just to find a job in her field. Even though her current boyfriend, Jackson, has enough pull to help her out with this, he refuses, so Mahogany decides to handle her situation on her own. 

After landing an interview with She Mail, Mahogany becomes the focus of the owner, a man named Miguel. Used to having things his way, Miguel is rich, entitled, and very aggressive about what he wants. And, in this case, what he wants happens to be Mahogany. After finding out about her financial situation, Miguel comes up with an easy plan to win her over. However, he soon finds out that Mahogany is not a woman who can be controlled or bought. 

Will Miguel get the picture and accept that the one woman he desires is the one who can't be tamed? After being disappointed by the current man in her life, will Mahogany allow herself to fall in love again? Only time will tell...

• Language: English
• Publisher: PS Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Apr 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781637182413

Tykeisha

Tykeisha was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. She fell in love with urban fiction early on, and became an avid reader at a young age. Tykeisha has always had the urge and desire to become an author. With Tykeisha currently residing in Houston Texas she was able to pick up her pen and plans to never put it down.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Mahogany

While screaming the rapper Jeezy’s lyrics, ‘ I used to have nothing, but now I got a whole lot of everything ,’ I made my way to the dance floor, totally disregarding all my problems and the bullshit drama I dealt with every day on a personal level and shook my fat ole ass. I was a 24-year-old candlemaker and aspiring journalist. I loved making candles, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and I wanted to write. 

I had interviewed at a few places and was constantly told ‘no’ due to my ‘lack of experience’ or whatever the fuck that meant. Not having a degree in journalism was also holding me back. After today’s interview being my latest disappointment, I decided to get dressed and go to Suite 38.  

Suite 38 was a club with a chill vibe and a wide open concept with a higher level VIP area. You could see the whole club from VIP, and while it was pricey, I preferred to be in the VIP area away from the crowd. The scene was classy and upscale, but the people in Indianapolis were hood as fuck, so it always turned into a gangster party--which I secretly loved. 

 C’mon, Sheeah! I have to dance to this. You know this is my motherfucking song! I screamed so that my best friend could hear me. 

She looked at me and giggled, probably in total disbelief. I was the more-so ‘shy’ type, whereas Sheeah’s ass was all over the place. I was an introvert, so being out in public and around lots of people just wasn’t my thing. My whole life, I’ve been the shy, thick, and most socially awkward of all my friend groups. A triple threat, right? Not at all, but it worked for me. However, tonight, I decided to let my hair down.

On the other hand, my best friend Sheeah was fun, friendly, and outgoing. People naturally gravitated to her. Welp, opposites attract because we instantly clicked. Now, we were thick as thieves.  

I began to vibe as we made our way to the main dance floor. I felt the effects of the three Sidecars I had just gulped down. Even though I was putting on a show, I did not want to be bothered. As I swayed my wide hips from left to right with my hands thrown in the air, I ignored every pass made at me. However, the company was hard to shake when Sheeah’s outspoken ass was in the room. Everybody wanted to be around my bitch, and I loved that for her. I didn’t enjoy entertaining the lame-ass niggas that came with it. I was called a ‘stuck-up bitch’ many nights, but I honestly didn’t give a fuck. 

As the song changed to something a bit slower, Jasmine Sullivan’s BPW began to play, and I was jamming. While slow grinding my hips on absolutely nobody, I let my liquor take control. My eyes were closed as I felt the drink and the song take me away like Calgon. I rubbed my hands all over my body and kept my sexy sway and steady two-step going. Damn! I felt good as fuck.  

As the song ended, I noticed a fine ass man staring me down. He had to be about 6’3, had a solid frame, and reminded me of Tyson Beckford. He was fine as fuck, and I was extra backed up on some Boosie shit. Jackson, my boyfriend since high school, was no longer cutting it for me. I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him. I wanted more. I needed more. 

Jackson was my first and only, and the sex was still the same since the first time we did it. I was bored out of my mind. Just thinking about our sexual encounters gave me a headache. 

I looked up, snapping out of my thoughts, and made eye contact with the Tyson Beckford lookalike. He was making his way to me. Just as he approached me, a tall, thin, model-type woman bumped into me, knocking my Taylor Port all over my dress. I knew it was unintentional because the club was packed in the general area, and we still needed to return to VIP. With that many people around, something was bound to go down.  

I was immediately upset, and to add insult to injury, she continued to walk without so much of an ‘I’m sorry’ or an ‘excuse me.’ 

Rude ass bitch! I yelled. 

She looked back with a sly smirk. I took note of her muscular ass facial features because if I ever ran into her again, I was smacking that bitch. I tried wiping the red wine from my cream-colored dress as best as possible. My eyes began to water up. I was getting more pissed off by the second. I tried my hardest not to turn into the Hulk and ruin everybody’s night. Damn, it seemed like I couldn’t catch a break.  

Excuse me, may I buy you another one? a strong, baritone voice asked.  

Silence happened. I stood there frozen in time. Beads of sweat covered my face. My palms were sweating, my heart was beating rapidly, and my mouth was dry as fuck. I was too shy to look this man in the face. I just immediately went back into my shell. Having men holler at me happened constantly, but the feeling was never mutual, so it was always easy to shake them, but not in this case. 

The man standing before me was fine as wine and aging gracefully. He had to be about thirty-two or thirty-three, I assumed. And he was just so well put together. He was dressed like a rich, corporate man, and I could smell his Bond No. 9 tickling my nostrils. I looked past him and sized up his colleagues, who all looked just as rich as he did, wearing tailored suits with a trail of women around them. I noticed a few wedding bands, but that wasn’t my business. 

While deep into my thoughts of constantly curving niggas and sizing his cheating married friends up, Mr. Fine Ass cleared his throat and took a step closer into my personal space.  

He leaned into my ear and I could smell the juicy fruit gum he had on his tongue. 

Excuse me, he said, just about a whisper.

May I buy you another glass of wine? 

As I tried to catch my breath and speak, I felt faint. I began to fan myself. Suddenly, I felt heavy on my heels. 

I need to get out of here and quick! I thought. 

This was all too much for me. I couldn’t find the words.  

Yes, please, I finally found the nerve to answer.  

While still leaning into my ear, he said, Stay put. I’ll be right back. 

He turned to walk away but suddenly stopped in his tracks and added, I would appreciate it if you took this time to collect your nerves and find your words. I don’t want to talk to myself all night. I promise not to bite you...unless that is what you desire. 

And with that said, Mr. No Name turned and headed to the bar.    

His voice was so smooth, and he smelled so damn good. The perfect stranger was doing things to me without doing anything to me. I looked around for my dearest friend, praying that she would save me from the embarrassment that was sure to come, and of course, she was nowhere to be found. I stood there momentarily, a ball of nerves. I convinced myself he wasn’t returning and that I looked like a fool just standing on the dance floor wearing a cream dress with a huge wine stain.  

I watched him make his way through the crowd heading to the bar, and I took notice of all the beautiful women trying to grab his attention while on the way. This man clearly had options; he didn’t want me. I wanted to kick off my uncomfortable ass heels and run like Forest Gump all the motherfuckin’ way home. 

And that’s exactly what I did. 

Before anyone could stop me, I ran outside, called for a Lyft, and got the fuck out of there. I’d had one too many Sidecars, and along with the half glass of wine, my coochie was one second from doing all the talking for me. The safest thing to do was leave.

Chapter 2

Mahogany

H ey Ma, I’m running late. I’ll call you back. 

I started every morning with a phone conversation with my favorite girl. 

Okay, good luck, baby. You got this. My mom wished me luck.  

Today was my big interview. I’d waited my whole life for this opportunity. I wanted to be a journalist my entire life. I didn’t have the college background or the experience outside of writing short stories at home and never letting anyone read them. But today, I was stepping out on faith for the one-hundredth time. I had a story to tell, and the world needed to hear it. Since my interview was for the famous Black-owned magazine, She Mail, I wouldn’t technically be giving the world my story. Still, I could tell other people’s stories and get my feet wet. I was all for it.  

After I hung up with my mom, I quickly handled my hygiene. I had laid out my signature interview suit. As I glanced at it, I vowed that if I didn’t get this job today, I was throwing the outfit away. I was tired of laying it out only to not meet the qualifications. I needed something to blame for my shortcomings, so the suit was it today.  

As I began to get dressed, there was a loud knock on the door.  

Who is it? I screamed against my better judgment, knowing damn well it couldn’t be anyone other than Jackson’s ass, my high school sweetheart, and my half-ass man. 

Jackson had been on his worst behavior lately, which was odd as hell for him because he had been set in the same routine since high school. That’s why I was bored and over our relationship. There were no dates outside of his parents’ banquets or events. There was no great sex. It was missionary every single time since high school. And now, all of a sudden, he was moving funny, Not coming over and not wanting sex. I wasn’t mad about it because my heart was no longer in it, but I still noticed the change. 

At one point, I could not see myself with anyone outside of Jackson. He was my everything for so long. He was handsome, super smart, and funny. I really thought Jackson and I would be a forever thing. He was exactly what I thought I wanted. He possessed all the qualities of a good man; the only issue was that he was boring. I was too young to be set in a routine like an old ass woman.  

We both were very inexperienced, and all we knew was each other. Now, it was at the point where sex was horrible and basic as fuck. Even the missionary lacked passion. I wanted to be spanked—choked, even. I was just no longer interested. I wanted to be fucked like a porn star, and Jackson just didn’t have it in him. I had read many books and wanted to experience great sex.

I briefly closed my eyes and imagined that whoever was on the other side of the door beating like a madman would knock the door in and snatch me out of the pink, silk short pajama dress I was currently wearing. I pictured him wearing a mask and bending me roughly over the edge of my sofa. My freshly shaven and oiled skin felt good, and I began to drag my hand down my belly. I gently ran my hand across my hot center, enjoying the daydream until the banging at the door knocked me out of the wet dream I was creating in my mind. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in my thoughts. The shit me and Jackson had been doing was mediocre, to say the least, and I knew there had to be a greater feeling awaiting me.  

Damn Mahogany, what took you so long? Jackson asked as I finally opened the door. 

Oh, hey you. I was getting dressed for my interview, I replied, totally disregarding what he asked.

What’s up? I asked, growing irritated for no reason other than his presence.  

"Oh, nothing. Just wanted to come over and wish you good luck and to let you know that