Since the release of Better Than Okay and Happiness in Jersey I've received a lot of comments about the music that's mentioned/intertwined in both stories. So, I thought it'd be kinda cool to do some SOUNDTRACKING for both books. I started with Happiness in Jersey. Happy listening!

SOUNDTRACKING: CHAPTER 2- GNARLS BARKLEY, "CRAZY"

I paused and leaned back, thumping the strings, letting the music catch up with the raw emotion of the song. I stepped up to the mic again, angling my head as I readied myself for the next line. I opened my eyes and nearly messed up the words.
"But think twice, that’s my only advice…”
A pair of gray eyes were staring right at me...
“Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are?”
He grinned slightly and I continued, still staring pointedly at him.
“Ha, ha, ha, bless your soul… do you really think you’re in control?”
I tilted my head when I sang that last part, trying to stare him down. He chuckled, but didn’t break eye contact. 

(This is a dope acoustic version I found by Daniella Andrade.)

SOUNDTRACKING: CHAPTER 7- THE BLACK KEYS- "NEXT GIRL"

“Oh, my next girl, she'll be nothing like my ex girl…” His eyes found mine and he held 
my gaze. “It was a painful dance, now I got a second chance…”
The girls in the front of the stage must’ve thought he was singing to them because they 
went crazy when he sang the last line. It was really pretty amazing to watch. Just ten 
minutes ago the majority of the crowd didn’t even know who he was and now he had 
them eating out of the palm of his hand. Usually crowds took a minute to warm to artist 
they weren’t familiar with—even music loving audiences like this one. But not with Zay.

(I deliberately put the lyric video up on this one.)

SOUNDTRACKING: CHAPTER 7- OUTKAST- "ELEVATORS"

We started with our slow grinding version of Outkast’s “Elevators.” The baseline scoots 
along the stark, steady tat of the drums and the guitar and keys echo solemnly along the 
bottom of the music. The crowd instantly started screaming louder, recognizing one of 
our signature covers. We keep the lights dim for the first sixteen bars of the song because 
it helps add to the mystic feeling of the beat. It’s a song about grinding in the wee hours of 
the morning because you can’t do anything to escape but play music. It’s a song about the
 struggle of making it, only to realize that fame and success isn’t what it should be. It’s a song
 about life.

SOUNDTRACKING: CHAPTER 13- MARVIN GAYE- "LET'S GET IT ON"

He was playing it in a higher key than the original and putting my attempts to shame. His 
fingers moved effortlessly, plucking a gentler, sweeter version of the already smooth song. 
Zay’s acoustic version was honeyed-soul; it was more laid-back and calm than the original version.
“I’ve been really trying baby, trying to hold back my feelings for so long…” he sang, still 
smiling at me as he met my eyes. The textured tone of his voice was soothing and warm. 
It wrapped around the entire room, filling it as he sang. He looked down at his guitar before 
meeting my eyes again. “…and if you feel, like I feel baby, come on, come on…”
Shit, he was fine. I grinned and bit my lip, unable to look away from him, watching as his biceps 
flexed slightly under the movement of his fingers. He was skipping in and out of the song, picking 
over the words, changing the original cadence to fit his soft, soulful strokes.
“We’re all sensitive people with so much to give… since we gotta be here, let’s live…”
He was staring me directly in the eyes, smiling as he sang, the peaceful rhythm he’d stuck filling 
everything inside of me. I’d heard him sing countless times over the past few weeks, but this was 
something different. It was intimate. The way he was singing it didn’t even conjure images of sex
 though. The way Zay sang it, it was only a love song— gentle, coaxing.


(This is the acoustic version that I listened to repeatedly for inspiration when writing that scene. Gotta love YOUTUBE.)

SOUNDTRACKING: CHAPTER 19 -ELLA FITZGERALD, "CRY ME A RIVER" 

I closed my eyes and sang.
“You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head, while you never 
shed a tear… Remember? I remember all that you said… told me love 
was too plebian, told me you were through with me…”
I paused, still strumming, eyes still closed, inhaling the night air. It was
 crisp and clean and I needed it so desperately. I needed it to clear the
 cloudiness in my heart and soul. I didn’t know if air had the power to
 do that. I doubted it.
“Now you say you’re sorry, for being so untrue… well, you can cry me a 
river, cry me a river cause I cried, I cried, I cried a river over you…”

Jersey's band, The Prototype is named after one of my favorite Outkast
songs. So, to round out SOUNDTRACKING for Happiness in Jersey, I've 
included one of my favorite covers of the song by one of my favorite vocalist
on the music scene today, Jesse Boykins. 

•Happiness in Jersey by Jacinta Howard, Available now everywhere e-book are sold- http://ow.ly/Bsjbz

“We should definitely dance now,” Destiny declared, downing the rest of the daiquiri.

She hopped off of the barstool, swaying her hips to the music as she grinned at him and held out her hand. She watched as he quickly downed the shots and let her pull him off of the stool. She led the way into the swell of people with him on her heels. The dance floor was crowded and he pulled her to him so that she wouldn’t get bumped by the people who were entranced by the music. The alcohol was coursing through her bloodstream and she felt good—free, even. She loved New Orleans. Dancing with Brian reminded her of the countless times they’d gone clubbing whenever he’d visit while she was still in college. 

She held her arms up, tilting her head back slightly as she swayed to the percussion that was beating a rhythm into her bloodstream. She opened her eyes and grinned. Brian could dance. Actually, Brian did pretty much everything he tried to do well.

He pulled her closer as their bodies moved in tune to the mid-tempo rhythm. She pressed into him, closing her eyes and intertwining her arms around his neck. He was pulling on her belt loops as he moved, his stubble gently scratching the side of her cheek. She turned in his arms, still moving in time to the steadily thumping baseline and reached up again, her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. She could feel his breath warm against her ear, his fingers splayed across her lower abdomen as he kept her close.

In the back of her mind, somewhere beneath her alcohol haze, she questioned how close they were getting to crossing their carefully drawn friendship line. They’d danced together before, but this was something different. She was too aware of his hands on her, his breath warm against her face, his body pressed against hers. She closed her eyes, deciding not to over-analyze it, and just enjoy the moment for once.

His hand trailed from her abdomen to her hip, then back up and she leaned her head back, resting it on his shoulder. She could feel his nose nuzzling against the side of her neck and she sighed, automatically tilting it to the side, giving him better access. If Brian wanted to nuzzle his nose against her skin, he could—or his lips, because that’s what he was doing now.

They were warm and soft and trailing down to her collarbone. She arched back into him, because that was okay, too. His tongue flicked against her neck and she drew in a surprised breath. Then he kissed it and she moaned aloud, the noise lost somewhere in the sound of the music. She was melting against him as he pulled her tighter to him. Oh shit. He was kissing her neck. And she was letting him. She was more than letting him, she was melting into him, tilting her head back, drawing him closer to her with her hand on the back of his neck. Whoa. Shit.

She turned in his arms, and looked up at him, her breathing ragged. The room was teetering and she clutched at his shirt. He was staring down at her, his eyes hooded, his own breathing increased. Then his mouth was on hers. She didn’t know who had moved first, only that his tongue was in her mouth, melding with hers, setting her on fire. They were in the middle of a crowded dance floor, but she didn’t care. She’d never consciously thought about kissing him before, but he was so familiar. He tasted like mint and sunshine and she pressed herself closer to him, drinking him in.

But just as quickly as it started, he pulled his mouth from hers. His breathing was labored as he stared down at her, watching her chest heave in and out.

“We should probably go,” she said, shakily.

He nodded then shook his head, releasing a breath as he ran a hand over his head. He grabbed her hand and led her toward the exit.

Better Than Okay, Available Now--http://ow.ly/CVmDA 

 “So those are the only relationships you’ve had? Purely platonic or purely sexual?” 
“Yeah.” 
“And having purely sexual relationships… it’s worked for you? You’ve never wanted more?” He glanced at me, arching his brow. 
“No,” I answered immediately, truthfully. “I’ve never really been with anyone that I actually wanted in that way. And that obviously works for most guys. It’s not like they’re interested in exploring the depths of my soul or anything. And the few that pretend they are, I just cut them off because I don’t have time for bullshit and I know they’ll lose interest as soon as the next pretty or sexy or whatever girl comes along.” 
His eyes remained on the road, his expression still stoic. 
“Sex is just… a release,” I said with finality. 
He shook his head slowly and looked over at me.
“Nah, Kitten. I don’t think that’s true. At all.”
I rolled my eyes. “So you’ve been in love before, I take it?” 
He was watching the road again. “Yeah.” 
“More than once?” 
“Just once,” he said, glancing at me. 
It wasn’t my style to ask what she was like and her name and all of that. I never cared enough to go on trips down memory lane with guys. I also never cared enough to get a knot in my chest at the mention of a girlfriend, or former love either, like the one that had quickly formed just now. 
“And I take it you had earth-shattering, soul piercing sex with her?” I observed, more than asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. I’d been looking out of the window when I asked the question and I glanced at him. He shook his head, grinning at me slightly.
“I’ve had meaningful sex, yeah.” He looked back toward the road. “I’ve also had meaningless sex. So I know the difference. I know which one is infinitely better.” 
I stared at him, anger rising in my chest.
“You trying to lecture me?” I asked coolly. 
He glanced at me and shook his head. “I’m not in the position to lecture anyone, Jersey,” he said with a humorless chuckle, “trust me.” 
He turned his attention to the road again. “I’m just saying that you should open yourself up to the idea that sex can mean more than just lust or a quick release with the right person. It can be a physical extension of the love you have for that person. And that can definitely be incredible.” 
His voice had dropped an octave as he looked at me and I shifted in my seat. He finally released my gaze and concentrated on the road. 
“Every relationship isn’t bad, Kitten. Every relationship has things you have to work on and deal with—that’s just life. But with the right person, all of that is worth it.”
He paused, his eyes still fixed on the highway, his expression serious. “Tomorrow isn’t promised to any of us. Relationships with other people are what makes life, life. The in between stuff? That’s really the best part.” 
He glanced at me again and I released a breath. I still didn’t believe him, but he seemed to believe what he was saying, which I respected. 
I reached forward and turned on the radio. We were in the middle of Texas, so of course, the stations were mostly country. The Civil Wars’ “Poison and Wine” came leaking through the speakers, filling the car with its haunting but serene melody. I was surprised when Zay started absently singing the words, although I don’t know why. I joined him on the chorus and he looked over at me, giving me another one of his slow grins. 
I smiled and looked out of the window, letting the wind caress my fingertips as I closed my eyes, his earlier words swirling in my mind.

•Happiness in Jersey by Jacinta Howard, Available now everywhere e-book are sold- http://ow.ly/Bsjbz

"A pair of gray eyes was staring right at me."


:: Travis was on the mic, singing a spaced-out version of D’Angelo’s “Brown Sugar.” It was funky and addictive and the bass line allowed me to lose myself in it. I was nodding my head with the music, my fingers slipping easily from note to note, the ridged metal of the strings sliding beneath my calloused fingertips. I closed my eyes, letting the sound wash over me. I was free. 

I started playing the bass in the eighth grade. Pops always had it sitting in the hall closet of our living room, just collecting dust. Apparently he’d had a year or two in the early nineties where he thought he was the next coming of Bootsy Collins and never got rid of his bass after regaining his sanity. I remember feeling restless and so heavy I could barely breathe one day. Pops had gotten drunk and as usual, couldn’t control his mouth. He’d told me for what would not be the first or last time, that I was a curse and shouldn’t even have been born, before passing out in his bedroom reeking of cheap whiskey.

I found the bass guitar that night and it’s owned me since then. It came natural as breathing to me, and eventually became just as necessary as air.

It’s actually how Devin and I met. His family moved to the neighborhood the summer before my freshman year in high school and he’d heard me playing in the middle of the day. We only live three houses apart and my house wasn’t exactly soundproofed.  When I finally went outside to check the mail, he came running over with that excited look in his eye that I’ve now gotten used to. He showed me his drum set and we’ve been jamming together ever since.

We slipped easily into the last song, our soulful version of Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy.” I watched Devin for a minute, letting him find his groove before I began matching his pace. We’ve been playing together for so long now we innately feel where the other person is going to go before it even happens. Our vibe is really the pulse of the band. We’re the bottom of the music, the rhythm that inexplicably gets into your soul before you even realize you’ve heard anything. You don’t just hear the bottom of music—you experience it.

I adjusted my mic, preparing for the hook. I kept thumping the bass as I shrugged out of my hoodie, which I must say is pretty impressive, even though I’ve done it a million times, and stepped up to the mic, letting my voice meld with his smooth baritone on the chorus.

“Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Possibly…”

I closed my eyes as the second verse came on, prepping for my solo. I’m not the world’s best singer, but I can hold a note. My voice is a little raspy but mellow, and it works well for what I do with the band.

“And I hope that you’re having the time of your life…”

I paused and leaned back, thumping the strings, letting the music catch up with the raw emotion of the song. I stepped up to the mic again, angling my head as I readied myself for the next line. I opened my eyes and nearly messed up the words.

“But think twice, that’s my only advice…”

A pair of gray eyes was staring right at me. They belonged to a face I hadn’t seen before and definitely wasn’t expecting. Even though Devin had teasingly asked Willow if she wanted to come watch us, our rehearsals were generally closed, especially after the groupie incident with Travis and Devin that I don’t care to ever relive again.

The guy was staring at me, his eyes trained on mine, peering at me like he knew me. His look was unsettling, but for some reason, familiar. He was wearing a pair of worn blue jeans and a simple white t-shirt that hugged defined biceps that were decorated with tats which started at the middle of his forearms. His hair was grown out but cut low, not a fro like Devin’s. It too was un-kept, but it was curly. His skin was dark caramel. But those eyes. They were piercing—and beautiful.

He tilted his head a little to the left, still studying me with unbridled interest. I glanced over at Devin who shrugged slightly. Nobody seemed too worried about his presence, so I decided not to be either. I really felt like yelling “cut” and asking who the hell this guy was, but we’re serious about rehearsal. We only halt if it’s absolutely necessary, or one of us hears something that needs to be changed immediately.

I knew it had only been a few seconds, but it felt like he’d been staring at me for hours. It was unnerving. And I hate being unnerved. I wet my lips and I leaned in for the next line, deciding that if gray eyes wasn’t going to break contact, neither was I.

“Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are?”

He grinned slightly and I continued, still staring pointedly at him.

“Ha, ha, ha, bless your soul… do you really think you’re in control?”

I tilted my head when I sang that last part, trying to stare him down. He chuckled a bit, but didn’t break eye contact. Travis chimed in with me on the chorus and we finished the song with gray eyes pretty much watching me the entire time. I was sweating a little at this point and I wiped my brow, taking a second to pick up my beer and take a cooling swig. Really, I just needed to break my stare with him without looking like I was trying to break it.

“What’s up Zay!” Travis exclaimed exuberantly, shoving his guitar around so that it hung behind his back as he crossed the room to where gray eyes—or Zay, I guess—was standing. He slapped his hand before wrapping him in a warm hug.

“When’d you get here, fam? Thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow?”

Zay smiled and shook his head. “Nah, decided to head out early, man. How you been, Trav? How’s aunt Lisa?”

Oh. So he was a relative. I know Lisa is Travis’ mom. I half-listened as they chatted about Travis’ mom and little brother, Micha. But mostly I was just watching gray eyes. He was fine as hell. Sexy in a way that made girl’s stupid and panty-less. Intriguing in a way that intimated dudes.

I took another swig of my beer and shot Devin another look. He shrugged again, restlessly tapping his stick on the snare. I knew he was ready to run through it one more time. To be honest, so was I. I’d gotten stuck with the eight a.m. macroeconomics class this semester and needed to go to bed if I wanted to make it to class on time. I didn't have time to be standing around staring at gray-eyed guys who were clearly nothing but trouble.

“Ya’ll this is my cousin, Zay,” Travis spoke up, waving a hand toward all of us. Travis is originally from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and his thick, rhythmic accent was showing itself. I wondered if that’s where Zay was from as I subtly continued studying him. He looked about our age, but like he’d seen some things in his life. I knew the look well.

He caught me sizing him up and grinned and I automatically looked away. Shit. I didn’t mean to do that. I usually make it a point to never look away first. It’s a sign of weakness.

“What’s up, Bam!” he was saying as he reached over the keyboard to give Bam dap. Of course Bam knew him. He and Travis grew up together in Baton Rouge.

“So Trav finally convinced you this is where you need to be,” Bam said, chuckling.

Zay shrugged easily. “Needed a change.”

Bam nodded his head, fiddling with his keyboard again. “I feel you.”

“What’s up man,” Zay, said, making his way over to Devin.

“What’s up bro,” Devin greeted him, dapping his hand.

“Devin, right?” he said. “Trav told me you’re the one who put the band together.”

Devin nodded and I knew he was quickly sizing him up, the way he did every new person he met.

“That’s what’s up,” Zay acknowledged with an impressed head nod. “You really know how to handle the sticks.”

Devin nodded again. “Appreciate it, bro.” He took another swig of his beer.

I braced myself as he turned toward me.

“Zay,” he said stretching out his hand. I shook it, noting that they were rough and calloused. His voice was raspy and deep, almost like he was a smoker and his drawl was thick and slow.

“Jersey,” I offered, eyeing him. “So it’s Zay as in Isaiah?”

Knowing Travis and his random nicknames his real name was probably actually ‘Adam’ or something.

“Yep.” He was back to staring at me again, a playful grin on his face. “So it’s Jersey as in… New?”

I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. I’d been getting shit about my name since kindergarten. I cocked my head to the side.

“Are you an ass as in… hole?” I retorted innocently, arching one eyebrow as I attempted to stare him down.

He chuckled, his stubbled face falling into an easy, almost boyish grin. Except nothing about him really said “boy.” Something about the way he looked at me had my stomach twisting and it took every ounce of sass I had in me to not break his gaze.

“You’re cute, Kitten.”

He was still smiling as his eyes traveled from my face to my chest, then back up. Heat immediately spread throughout me and I shifted a little. What the hell? I never react like this to guys. Especially ones I barely know.

“Isn’t it a little early for you to be giving me nicknames?” I asked disinterestedly.

“You remind me of Kitten though.”

I frowned. “So Kitten is a person?”

“No. Kitten was a hamster,” he answered. “My hamster.”

I stared at him for a long second. His face was serious.

“Wait… you had a hamster named ‘Kitten’?” It was Bam who asked the question.

“Yep, in the second grade.”

“Why did you have a hamster named ‘Kitten’?” Bam asked confusedly. “Why not just call it ‘Hamster’?”

“Because it looked like a kitten.” Zay shrugged, as if it was the most logical explanation in the world. “Trav, you remember Kitten?”

“No.” Travis rolled his eyes and turned his baseball cap on backward before adjusting his guitar strap over his shoulder.

I shot another glance at Devin who seemed to be enjoying the whole weird ass exchange. Zay was eyeing me again and I backed up a little. This guy was obviously one fry short of a Happy Meal.

“So are you saying I look like a hamster? Or like a damn kitten?”

I blurted the question with more emotion than I intended. But damned if he didn’t have me frazzled. He had just strolled into my rehearsal, given me the death stare for an entire song and then compared me to a freaking rodent? Sexy or not, that shit was disturbing.

He smirked, clearly amused.

“You shouldn’t say ‘damn kitten’—it’s offensive.”

“To who?” I shot back, wrinkling my brow, growing more and more irritated by the second.

“To Kitten,” he replied, looking at me as if I was the mentally-ill one.

I rolled my eyes. This weirdo was clearly bat shit crazy.

“Just don’t call me ‘Kitten,’” I said with finality.

“Okay, Kitten, I’ll try,” he said nonchalantly, ignoring my glare. “But it’ll be hard because you seriously remind me of Kitten. And I really liked Kitten.”

He tapped my nose and I immediately brushed his hand away, which made him chuckle again, a smooth bass sound that seemed to reverberate through him. I looked at Travis who was laughing, shaking his head. I was beginning to feel unsafe.

“Stop messing with her Zay,” Travis warned. “Jersey can probably kick your ass.”

Zay didn’t take his eyes off me. Instead, he let his gaze roam from the crown of my head to the tip of my pink Converses, his playful smirk firmly in place. He was a good six inches taller than my five-four but I stared back at him unflinchingly anyway.

“Is that right?” he asked, meeting my eyes again.

“Yes.” I replied, glaring at him.

He laughed and finally backed up.

“I think I might like to see that,” he said, running his eyes up my legs, causing my heart to start hammering in my chest.

“Cool shorts,” he observed. He winked at me and turned his attention to Travis.

“I’ll be back Trav. Good meeting you, bro,” he said nodding his head toward Devin. Devin returned the nod, already focused on his drums again.

He didn’t look at me again before bounding up the steps. I shook my head and glanced around wondering if anyone else was concerned about Zay’s obviously fragile mental state. But nobody seemed to be bothered. Devin just smiled knowingly at me when I looked at him and tapped his sticks together.

“Let’s run it,” he called out.

So we did.

Happiness in Jersey by Jacinta Howard, Available Now
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