This book can be found under the Urban Books category of your favorite online book store. Also look under Urban Fiction, African American Fiction and Street Fiction.
This is the final excerpt to be posted on here before the book is released. Thugs are for Fun 3 will be available for advanced orders Mid-April (this month) and will be delivered to the limited pre-orders a month before it comes out officially in July 2008. Look for updates on the newsletter. Thank you guys, I will still post on here from time to time with info about new releases, writing, etc 
Final Excerpt – Thugs are for Fun 3 by J.Gail
Pop! Pop!
Timbo stood in shock as one of the figures who had been standing across the street shot Tools twice—Tools dropped like a dummy doll. Timbo now saw the face of the guy who had shot off his gun clear as day. It was Coot, a young brother from North Philly who had just recently started staying down in West Philly. He was about 20. From what Timbo had been told, Coot was on the run for a murder/robbery. It was somebody who really mattered to the community. Timbo had talked to Coot a couple of times in passing but always kept it moving because he seemed a little “off.”
And he had just shot the shit out of Tools. Tools lay on the ground with a pool of blood starting to form around his chest. Coot returned his gun to the back of his jeans and nodded at Timbo as if to say “I got this.”
Timbo didn’t stick around to find out why, how, or what. He sobered up that quick and turned to head back towards his car. He had three or four warrants out in his name, he wasn’t about to be caught at a murder scene. To his surprise, Coot yelled after him, but he kept it moving, trying to play it cool. He didn’t see Cheryl’s head in her car, so he knocked on the window to see what had happened. She popped her head back up with a terrified look on her face. Timbo gestured for her to start her car, then jumped in his own car and motioned to Cheryl out the window to follow him. She did so without a second thought.
* * *
Timbo drove Cheryl to his house and led her to where she could park down the street and around the corner. His baby’s mother Yolanda had a habit of showing up unannounced when she was on one of her “missions,” so he didn’t want her knowing he had a new girl over there, especially not a girl like Cheryl. Yolanda knew every car on the block and would surely take a pipe to Cheryl’s car if he didn’t let her in.
Once Cheryl had her car parked, he leaned over and opened the passenger seat door for her to get in and drive her back to the house. When Cheryl got in the car she brought a light, airy aura with her that Timbo absolutely loved. He closed his eyes for a moment and took in the feeling.
“What happened back there?” Cheryl wasn’t smiling. She had half considered peeling off without Timbo when she heard the gunshots but was so scared that all she could do was duck down in her seat. Another part of her was extremely turned on by the danger of witnessing gun shots ringing out less than a block away. She hadn’t seen Tools get shot; she had only heard the noise.
Timbo broke out of his trance and looked over at Cheryl. Her eyeballs were wide as saucers. He reached out and caressed her hair to calm her down. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t know why Coot shot Tools, but Tools deserved what he got. He was dirty brother who was always messing with other peoples’ money. He probably owed Coot something. Good riddance. Timbo thought.
“Nothin’ baby, don’t worry about that shit,” he assured her and pulled around the corner.
Cheryl knew one thing for sure; something had happened. She had heard those gunshots clear as day. It was the first time she had heard them in person instead of on TV. But the way Timbo shrugged it off and told her to not to fret eased her mind. She felt that whatever had happened, he had it under control. After all, he was here wasn’t he? It must have been nothing for him, because he had already forgotten about it. He was probably around guns on a regular basis. She was growing more and more attracted to this man by the minute.
When they got to his door, Timbo quickly opened the front door and let her inside, scanning the street to make sure Yolanda was no where in sight. He came in behind her and threw on the light so that she could orient herself with the surroundings. She looked back at him strangely, wondering why he was scanning the street. Were the people who were shooting coming after him?? Should she get out of there? A new panic fell over her, but when she looked at Timbo looking calm and dangerous all at the same time as he tossed his keys on his mail table, she quickly relaxed again.
“Nice house,” Cheryl said smiling as she walked back towards a comfy leather couch she saw. Timbo’s house may have looked like a regular danky rowhouse on the outside, but he kept it looking nice inside. Timbo watched her hips sway from side to side as her heels clicked on his hardwood floors. She was definitely the best looking woman he had ever had in his house.
“You want somethin’ to drink? I got some Grey Goose… or some Henny.”
“I’ll just have some juice or something, I need to sober up a little,” Cheryl said with a nod as she made herself comfortable on the couch. She set her purse down and crossed her legs properly. Timbo watched her every move on his way to the kitchen.
While he was getting Cheryl some juice he remembered that she had warmed up to him when he was aggressive. That was probably what she wanted right now. Why else would she want to come to his house after midnight? Still, he was going to play this cool.
When he came back he handed her the dripping glass of juice and kicked off his shoes with his own glass of vodka and cranberry in hand. He took a big gulp and did what came naturally—laid his head in her lap.
They watched TV together for a while like that, and were temporarily distracted by an episode of Hell Date on BET. Where he lay was comfortable and relaxing him, but sleep was the furthest thing from his mind.
“Tell me ‘bout your school,” Timbo started as he made himself more comfortable and flipped the channels.
Cheryl didn’t answer at first—she was too busy thinking nasty thoughts and sneaking glances at the bulge forming in his pants. She loved the feeling of his deep voice vibrating through her jeans. Her excitement was growing. “There isn’t really much to tell. School is hard, but I’m doing okay.”
“You said you was from Michigan right?”
“Ellisville Missouri, it’s near St. Louis,” she answered. “You were born and raised in Philly right?”
“Yup, my momma and my momma’s momma you know the rest. Probably since slavery, who knows,” Timbo said with a slight chuckle.
“Well you know, that’s not necessarily true. Most African American families migrated up north in the 20th century from the South,” Cheryl suddenly felt the need to drop some knowledge. “Your people most probably came up here in the 20s or 30s. You should ask your grandmother.”
“Oh for real?” Timbo turned his head from the TV and looked Cheryl in the eye. “You into all that history shit huh?”
Cheryl laughed. “If you wanna call it that, yea. I’m thinking about a major in Afro-American studies.”
“That’s cool. Tell me more about that down south stuff.”
Timbo listened to Cheryl talk about slavery, black migration patterns, and the history of black Philadelphia. She seemed very passionate about the subject, and surprisingly enough to himself, he was genuinely interested in what she had to say. He was slowly falling in love with each word that flowed out of her perfectly glossed lips. Her breath smelled good and she handled herself very well even though she had just went through about five cocktails and three beers.
“You would be in the house or the field?” Timbo asked jokingly.
Cheryl laughed. “Well most people joke that only the light-skinned slaves were in the house, but that wasn’t always the case. The slave masters would choose based on their ‘favorites.’ Not necessarily on skin color.”
“Oh then, you most definitely would be in the house! Cause you already my favorite,” Timbo smirked.
Cheryl laughed. “Oh really.”
“Come here,” Timbo couldn’t wait any longer. Cheryl obeyed, still smiling, and lowered her face down to his lips. He quivered when he felt her lips touch his. They were plump, lickable, and delicious.
He sucked on her top lip as if it were a Jolly Rancher, and Cheryl felt a rush of fluids down below. She shoved her tongue down his throat and sent chills down Timbo’s back. All the “gentleman” left him right then. He sat up and turned around in the same motion, grabbing Cheryl by her hips to get her to lay down.
On top, he took full control as he kissed her hard on the lips. He pulled her shirt up over her head roughly, causing it to rip slightly, and ravished her on the couch. He sucked, licked, and kissed every inch of her body, paying plenty of attention to her fleshy, perfectly-sized breasts. Cheryl moaned and cooed, loving every moment.
“What do you want me to do?” Cheryl asked suddenly. “Tell me what you want me to do, I’ll do anything you want.”
Timbo was kissing her neck and unbuttoning her pants when she said that. He slowed down a bit. In response, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his jet black, rock hard manhood. Cheryl knew exactly what to do. She got on her knees next to the couch and went to work. Timbo’s eyes rolled up in his head as he moaned in pleasure.
That night they were doing it for so long in Timbo’s bedroom that the sun actually came up before they were done. Timbo was knocked out on his bed within a few minutes, and thought that Cheryl had done the same, but not so. She actually snuck out of the bed a few minutes later and did a search for her panties. She looked everywhere—by the couch, in the hall, under the bed, and in the sheets as much as she could without disturbing Timbo, but was unsuccessful. She left without making a sound.
Chapter 3
Amanda was tired, having rested a grand total of 8 hours over the past three days, due to her studies. She had decided to go back to school for her Masters degree in hopes of getting a promotion to a mid-management level position at her job paying a minimum of $70,000 a year. But she really liked the self-defense classes that Jacy had signed them both up for so she was willing to make this sacrifice. Later on she would be able to at least get a two hour nap in before starting her paper.
She threw her bag on an open chair and started stripping down to her workout clothes. As she tossed her sweatpants aside, she saw that the drop dead gorgeous instructor had entered the room. He looked like a cross between Boris Kudjoe and Drill Sergeant Harvey from Celebrity Fit Club.
“Hey Amanda, how are you,” he said smoothly as he started setting up his dummies and coordinating paperwork that he planned to give to each lady after class.
“Hi Todd,” Amanda almost swooned. She was shameless with her flirtation; even though she was going on three months in a relationship with a guy who she had met at school.
Todd was six foot three, 205 lbs of rock hard body, with a caramel complexion, and deep, brown piercing eyes that almost made you feel that you were being undressed with them. Amanda had to admit—he was a big reason why she came to this twice a week class despite her hectic schedule with work and school.
She daydreamed for a minute until she saw a few other people filing into the room. The class had a whopping 30 women—the maximum—and that was mostly due to the fact that the instructor was fine as hell. Right when the class was about to begin, Jacy ran in and threw her things in a corner.
“Hey Mandy!” Jacy said with a smile. Amanda returned the greeting and gave her friend a big hug. She was starting to become concerned about Jacy. Jacy constantly worried about Rich and his whereabouts when they weren’t together. She was starting to become one of “those married women.”
“Why are you always late girl,” Amanda teased as she and Jacy stretched a little. Then Todd’s commanding voice piped in.
“Hello Ladies, I think we are ready to begin today,” Todd said, letting his eyes rest comfortably on Jacy for a moment too long. She smiled innocently and tuned in. “Today we are going to talk a little about the use of aggressive devices to thwart an attack.”
Jacy had decided to take self-defense classes right after marrying Rich. She frequently had to be around less than desirable people on a regular basis—most of whom didn’t like her due to her relationship with Rich. Jealousy, resentment, and the unexpected all convinced her that this was a good move, just in case. While he thought it was unnecessary, Rich was fine with it. He had even taught her a few moves of his own to disable people even when you weren’t as strong as them.
Jacy convinced Amanda to come along because she lived alone in the heart of Philly, and the crime in her area was worsening. Amanda was thinking about moving to Lansdowne soon, but in the meantime she was learning how to protect herself.
“…I’m going to need a volunteer,” Todd said and scanned the room. Half of the women’s hands shot up, but he looked beyond them all and right at Jacy. “Jacy, I saw that you have mace on your keyring, can you come up here for a second?”
The women groaned as Jacy made her way to the front. They knew that being a volunteer almost assuredly meant being touched by the instructor. Most of the women were single and so desperate for the touch of a man that they went to extremes; even faking and pretending that they were having trouble with their moves.
Todd demonstrated the correct way to use mace on an attacker while the other women just stared at his abs, with definition that could clearly be seen even underneath his t-shirt. He put the mace in Jacy’s hand and guided her on how to mace the dummy, scream, and take off. The women burned with jealousy. Todd was always choosing Jacy to demonstrate things. She was definitely the teacher’s pet.
After class was over, and the ladies had their paper’s in hand, Jacy asked Amanda out for drinks but it was simply not happening.
“J, do you know how much I would love to go sit at Copas and drink a margarita? I have three papers due this week, and a 20 minute presentation due on Monday. I just can’t babe.”
Jacy sighed. “Okay. Damn, you are no fun ever since you started school! You know Rachelle never wants to do anything. Now that she has her new new new man.”
Rachelle had become a slightly better friend, but old habits die hard. She had been through five relationships in the past year alone. She was still on her quest to find “the one,” and ever since Jacy and Rich tied the knot she seemed even more fired up to find a man.
“I know, but would you rather me fail out of school and get stuck at $40,000 a year for the rest of my life! Then you will have to buy me drinks forever since on top of getting paid only $40,000 a year I will also have more student loan debt for going to a school I never even graduated from because I was busy out getting drinks!”
Jacy chuckled as they stood to leave, “Yea, when you put it that way. You are too dramatic though.”
“Hey Jacy, Amanda,” Todd said from behind them. “How are you guys doing, enjoying the class?”
“Oh yea, it’s great Todd. I’m going to kick someone’s ass as soon as I get out of here,” Amanda confirmed, smiling wide at Todd. They laughed.
“Just so you guys know, I’m available for private lessons if you ever have any problems with your moves,” Todd said, looking directly at Jacy again. Jacy was really starting to think he was crushing. She thought he was cute and all, but wasn’t about to have a dead self-defense instructor on her hands if Rich found out she was flirting with him. All those karate moves and such would do nothing versus Rich’s ca-razy ass. Rich knew Jacy was in the classes, but had no idea who was teaching them. Jacy kept that information under wraps and had actually told him a little white lie about her instructor being female. She didn’t say it outright, but had suggested it innocently in conversation. She did everything now to avoid a conversation about the classes and the guilt was killing her.
http://www.jazolipublishing.com
Entertaining Urban Books with a message.
