“Taj McCoy’s writing positively crackles with energy, wit and humor.”
—Jayci Lee, author of Booked on a Feeling
Title: The Dating Prohibition
Author: Taj McCoy
Publisher: MIRA
Release Date: 2nd September 2025
BLURB
In this spicy new rom-com, an ambitious entrepreneur working to get her speakeasy supper club off the ground is pushed off balance when her childhood crush turns up, hotter than ever––then tells her she's off-limits.
Now that Kendra’s returned home, she can’t help feeling like a kid again—back in her big brother’s shadow, trying to get her restaurant off the ground while his new venture is flying high right out the gate. It doesn’t help that everyone refuses to stop calling her Keke, the childhood nickname she loathes.
The only bright spot is her longtime crush BJ. He’s been her big brother’s best friend for most of her life, and he’s always been that cool, chill guy who was easy to talk to and made her laugh. Now he’s looking at her like she’s all grown up, and there’s nothing childish about the chemistry brewing between them. Even better, he takes her dreams seriously, and he’s ready to help her make her supper club a reality.
But then BJ extinguishes the sparks flying between them, insisting nothing romantic can ever happen because she’s “off limits.” As her investors fall through and her best chance at fulfilling her professional dreams points toward leaving home again for a fresh start, will BJ be ready for love before Kendra moves on? Or will he sweep her off her feet when she least expects it?
PURCHASE LINKS
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Bookshop
Google Play
Apple
Described as being ideal for fans of:
· Brother's Best Friend
· Spicy Rom-Com
· Childhood Crush
· Off-limits Romance
· Ambitious Heroine
· Second Chances
Oakland-born law grad Taj McCoy is committed to championing stories that include Black and multiracial women of color, plus-size protagonists, Black love, Black joy, and strong senses of sisterhood and familial bonds. Taj started writing as a small child, enjoying her first publications in elementary school. When she's not writing, Taj may be on Twitter boosting other marginalized writers, practicing yoga, sharing recipes, or cooking private supper club meals for close friends.
Author website
Snort! Kendra jolted awake, her face pressed against the cool window shade. She forced a cough to clear her throat, her cheeks coloring as she realized she’d been snoring. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone in the neighboring seats had heard, and she rushed to wipe the side of her mouth, checking for drool. No one in the row in front of her seemed to have noticed anything, and she was thankful that most of the first- class passengers were wearing noise-canceling headphones and watching in-flight movies.
Pull yourself together, girl. Taking a deep breath, she covered her face with the palms of her hands, willing herself awake.
The sweet woman next to her patted her arm with a chuckle. “You must have been tired, dear. You missed the meal and everything!”
Thank god I didn’t have to pay for this upgrade. Kendra yawned and nodded in agreement. “I’ve traveled quite a bit in the past two weeks. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.” I could honestly go back to sleep right now.
“Are you heading home?”
Home.
She smiled tightly. “Yeah, something like that.” Truth was, she’d been a tumbleweed for the past two years. Home was wherever she decided to rest her head, though she’d been craving a place to plant her roots—something she hadn’t been sure she’d ever do when she left. And she never fathomed that she’d have a desire to return to the US to do so.
A chime sounded before a flight attendant spoke over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our de- scent into Reagan Washington National Airport. As we pre- pare for landing, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright and locked position. Your lap- tops should be put away and . . .”
Kendra offered a small smile to her neighbor. “Are you returning home?”
The woman shook her head, the scent of her gourmand perfume wafting over Kendra in waves of vanilla and toffee. “My daughter’s. She’s going to be induced next week. My fourth grandbaby!” She grinned with pride and rummaged through her purse, which she cradled in her lap protectively.
“Aw, congratulations! That’s so exciting.” A cell phone was shoved in her face, showing three smiling kids, two missing their front teeth. “They’re very cute.”
Once they landed and arrived at the gate, Kendra helped her row mate with her bag and headed toward baggage claim as her phone pinged with a text message.
Lani: Is you here yet?? Inquiring minds (aka your nosy brother and your parents) want to know . . .
Kendra: The eagle has landed.
Lani: Tuh! I know you haven’t returned from Gulliver’s travels with a big ass head SMH. Make sure you look like somethin before you waltz your ass up in here . . .
She rolled her eyes and sent her cousin a middle finger emoji before tucking her phone into her pocket. Returning home hit different now that Kendra was deemed a failure—it felt like tucking tail and admitting defeat after desperately trying to carve an uncharted path with nothing but hope and a blunt instrument. Whether anyone would admit it, the hushed tones of the family whisper network turned up the volume on every inadequacy and failed attempt, and once again the grumblings shone a spotlight directly onto Kendra. Always the fucking black sheep.
Kendra sighed, muttering to herself as she approached her fifth red light in a row. “Now they’ll get to harp on the fact that I’m late.” She glanced at the clock on her dashboard and shook her head with annoyance.
Having run home just long enough to drop off her suit- case and pick up her car, she’d rushed back out before her family started blowing up her phone. DC traffic was only predictable in that it was inevitable, and finding parking was next to impossible. Sometimes, the search for parking took as long as the commute. That never stopped Kendra from wanting to drive—yes, one could take the Metro or ride- share to a destination, but that meant having to depend on too many outside variables when she was ready to leave— she was too much of a control freak to depend on the time- liness of others, and when she wanted to go, she wanted to go. Waiting on others to do what she was more than capable of doing herself drove her up the wall. Being the baby in the family didn’t mean that she was any less capable than Big Bro.
Being away from home for two years left her second- guessing directions and she cursed under her breath as she missed her exit from the same traffic circle twice. At some point, people enjoying the park would begin to think she was casing the neighborhood. Kendra bit her lip, her eyes widen- ing as a car sped into the lane to her right as she attempted to maneuver over to catch the exit on her third try. She slid into the lane behind the Prius that had come out of nowhere and finally made the right turn out of the roundabout from hell.
Kendra zipped through the congestion on Rhode Island Avenue, having dropped all of her belongings off at the English basement apartment below her brother’s row house. The family golden boy. Logan had stopped offering the basement as a vacation rental when Kendra announced her return to town, and she’d eagerly agreed to help launch his new business for a month or two of free rent. Her best friend and cousin’s name appeared on the center console screen of Kendra’s Audi Q3, and she pressed a button on her steering wheel to answer her phone via the car’s Bluetooth system as she stopped at a traffic light. “Hey, girl, hey!”
“You’re late, you know,” Lani quipped in a hushed tone, evoking an immediate eye roll out of Kendra. “Everyone’s waiting for you to make an appearance! Logan said he hasn’t even seen you yet.”
“Yeah, that’s the beauty of smart locks—there’s no longer a need for me to knock on Logan’s front door and ask for a key to his basement. It’s bad enough that the prodigal child has to return and immediately ask her big brother for help for the umpteenth time.” Kendra chewed on her bottom lip, willing her face to express less of her reluctance to come back to the DMV area. It wasn’t that she didn’t love DC—she did—it was just that she was always hidden by Logan’s shadow. It wasn’t his fault, and Kendra looked up to Big Bro for everything he was able to accomplish, but sometimes his success sucked up all of the oxygen in the room.
“Now, don’t be dramatic, Keke,” Lani chided in her sing- songy voice.
Kendra bristled at her childhood nickname. “And remind me again why you couldn’t just let me come and stay at your place? You know that I’m not above bumming it on a couch.”
Lani tsked nonchalantly. “Come on, girl, no one should be subjected to that much sex. Can’t have you telling my aunt and uncle about my sexcapades. Your mom already thinks I’m too fast anyway.”
Kendra smirked. You are. “She already knows you’re fast, heffa.”
“You told her?!” Lani’s hushed growl made Kendra cackle. “You really don’t remember trying to sneak a boy into our house when you were staying with us for spring break?” She’d been grounded for the rest of high school and subjected to regular lectures about the birds and the bees. Auntie Mack refused to be a grandmother early, so she made herself an impactful prophylactic. Logan and all the boy cousins were tasked with looking out for Lani and Kendra, as if the lot weren’t all
pussy-whipped themselves.
“Uh, that was a teenage mistake. Does Auntie Al think I’m fast too? You haven’t told her anything recent, right?” Lani’s whispering was more of an exasperated shout with the volume turned down. “If she thinks I’m up to anything, she’ll tell my mom, and then I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Girl, your mom has known since you started wearing all that eyeliner in middle school,” Kendra chuckled. “And that mulberry lipstick? You thought you were serving. You’d hit ’em with the duck lips and hands on your hips anytime some- one tried to take a picture.”
Lani groaned. “Shut up, there’s a difference between duck lips and a smize. And thought? Bitch, I was stuntin’ on them hos.”
Kendra could practically hear the hair flip on the other side
of the line. “Mmmkay, well, back to what I was saying. I could be at your place hearing sex-foolery, but instead I’m up under Logan . . . again.” Thankfully there was a main floor between Kendra’s unit and her brother’s bedroom, so she was absolved from having to hear his sexcapades, but still.
“Well, but it’s only temporary, and besides, the savings is
good for you while you’re still in the planning stages of opening up your own spot.”
“Why must you be reasonable?” Kendra whined. Every- thing Lani said was true, but the closer she got to the bistro location that Logan and his wife, Shonda, were opening together, the more Kendra’s stomach performed a Simone Biles– level floor exercise—one of those extra good ones that would eventually be named after her because no one else could perfect it the way she could.
“One of us has to be reasonable, so suck it up, buttercup. Now, what’s your ETA?” Lani was resistant to Kendra’s shit— she had a no-nonsense approach to pretty much everything and didn’t believe in coddling unless she needed it herself. It didn’t help that, as cousins born two weeks apart, they’d been best friends since they shared a playpen. Lani knew all of Kendra’s tactics.
“I’m about to park. Give me a minute or two to gather myself, and then I’ll be in.” Well, maybe five minutes.
“Bet. Oh, and be careful when you walk in here, Keke—
Stanley just waxed the floors.”
“Noted.” Kendra steered her car into the first open parking spot. “I’ll be in there in a few.”
“’Kay, bye.”
The phone disconnected, and Kendra took a deep breath. What is awaiting me inside? She cursed herself for not asking who all would be present to help put the finishing touches on the restaurant before its opening in a few days. As she closed her eyes to meditate, her phone rang again. She jabbed at the button on her steering wheel. “We literally just hung up, Lani.”
“Well, don’t sit out in your car forever either. Someone already mentioned that they saw you pull up.”
Kendra rolled her eyes, kissing her teeth. “Get off my phone, ma’am. I need a sec.” Leave me be!
Lani dropped her voice to a gruff whisper. “Bring yo’ ass
in here, ho. A certain someone been askin’ about you.” She drew out the last word teasingly. “Take a fuckin’ hint,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
Kendra’s face scrunched up as her head tilted, her mind racing to run through the list of everyone she expected to be present in these final days of prep before the big launch. “Who?”
“Mr. Big and Sexy, the chocolate drop himself.”
Huh? Kendra blew out a breath loudly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Cousin, that description applies to half of the brothas in the DMV. Can you be more specific?”
“If you don’t carry your behind on You know what?
We don’t have time for this.” Lani’s hushed tone changed to a loud call. “Hey, look, y’all. I think that’s Keke’s car right there!” Voices in the background converged into a jumble drowned out by a peal of villainous laughter.
I’m gonna kill her. “Lani!” Kendra snapped as the call disconnected. So much for a moment of peace. She inhaled deeply, exhaling through her mouth before wiping the scowl from her face and climbing out of the car into a light breeze that made her pull her coat lapels closer to her neck. She flung her tote bag over her shoulder as she crossed the narrow side street to enter the front door of the brightly lit restaurant with a giant banner and the word PALATE set between a set of cutlery. “Here we go,” she muttered.
As Kendra stepped onto a narrow welcome mat just inside the glass door, which had been propped open to allow in the sharp almost-spring air, the scents of fresh paint and oranges wafted toward her. She peered around the dining room in search of the chocolate drop Lani was hinting about, making eye contact with her brother, Logan, and her sister-in-law, Shonda, whose face brightened as she headed toward the end of the bar to show some love. “Hey, you made it!”
“Yeah, I . . . whoa shit!” Kendra took one step forward and slipped, fully expecting to be met with the well-polished lacquered hardwood when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and righted her, the warmth of a large hand imprinting the small of her back as her legs wobbled. “Right, careful with the floors . . . Thanks,” she laughed with embarrassment.
“Been a long time, Kenny,” a gravelly baritone voice caused her head to jerk upward. His sturdy six-foot frame drew closer, holding her against his hip so that she could steady herself. The scents of smoky oud and tobacco emanated from his skin. Kendra gulped as her eyes widened. Damn, he got even finer.
BJ Stephens glowered at her curiously, the same way he had when they were teenagers, and Kendra’s cheeks warmed as she took in his smooth umber skin. She’d never seen him in jeans and work boots before, but the look suited him.
“Hey, B, long time. How you been?” She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as his wound around her waist. As she turned her head to peck his cheek, he moved slightly and her lips landed at the angle of his jaw, just below his ear, his closely-groomed beard soft against her skin. Her eyes bulged as she stepped back, unsure whether he’d think she tried to kiss his neck on purpose. Clumsy and awkward . . . we’re off to a great start. She made space between them, willing her cheeks not to broadcast her embarrassment. She cleared her throat before looking up at him.
BJ’s dark, spectacled eyes trained on her, his expression unreadable. “Good. But you’re the one who’s been gone. How were your travels? Last I heard, you were cooking your way through Asia and Europe.”
Kendra beamed, nodding. “I loved every minute of it. Ap- prenticed under a few chefs, caught up with a few cousins when I hit Thailand and the Philippines. Collected a ton of cooking techniques and recipes. Made some new friends and gave a few lessons on Creole cooking.”
“You didn’t make new friends at the expense of old ones, I hope.” The corners of his mouth twitched, drawing Kendra’s attention to his full lips. It always took a lot to make BJ smile. A laugh was even more rare but craveable. As long as Kendra had known her brother’s best friend, she never was good at reading him. Once in a while, he’d allow his face to show his playfulness, but most of the time, his underwhelmed, almost gruff expression remained constant. Joy, pain—even annoyance—were less common expressions than the general grumpy-observer vibe he gave off. But behind the prickly mask was an intelligent, loyal, good human who often put others before himself.
“Never that,” she laughed. They’d known each other for over two decades—ever since her family had relocated from New Orleans to the nation’s capital. Kendra had been in middle school, and Logan was just about to start high school. He met BJ his first day of classes, and they became fast friends after almost coming to blows over the attentions of the same girl. Logan had brought BJ home for some of Momma’s cooking to make amends, and the rest was history—Momma won over many hearts with her Creole family recipes, and BJ’s was no exception. Logan had been lucky. Truth be told, BJ would have whooped his ass.
BJ was a gym rat to the core, but as focused as he was on macros to build muscle mass, he made two exceptions without question: Momma’s cookin’ and good whiskey. As he solidified his place within the family’s inner circle, he’d always been the one to mediate Kendra’s arguments with her brother—a dependable voice of reason who wasn’t quick to pick sides.
Kendra and Logan never fought physically—Momma would never allow that—but Kendra would cut to the white meat with her words, and when she went low, Logan went straight to the depths of hell. “You still enjoying the professor life? I heard you were awarded tenure while I was out of the country. Congratulations are in order! I was really excited to hear the news. You’ve worked so hard to get to this place.”
His head bobbed as he smoothed a hand over his facial hair. The top half of his dark, shoulder-length locs were twisted and tied back away from his face as he regarded her intently. “Thanks! Yeah, it’s been good so far, but I’m on sabbatical this semester. I need to do some research for my next book proposal.”
BJ taught courses on historic preservation, focusing on heritage conservation, architectural history and preservation, urban planning, and adaptive reuse. Most of it went over Ken- dra’s head, but she loved that he focused a good amount of his work on Black heritage tourism. The way that he highlighted the importance of transforming abandoned sites to frame and highlight pivotal points in history had always been a source of inspiration for her.
Kendra tilted her head. “About that, actually, maybe I can pick your brain about something later. I’ve got something brewing businesswise, and it’s right up your alley.” She tapped his arm with her fingers and admired the results that his hard work in the gym had developed.
BJ’s eyebrows rose, but Lani slid across the floor Risky Business–style right into Kendra’s arms before he could respond. He nodded brusquely and sauntered back toward the bar, where Logan was installing some shelving.
“Bitch, you made it!” Her cousin squeezed Kendra tightly before stepping back to assess her appearance, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. Lani was all about vibrant colors, and Kendra’s palette was much more neutral, so she was al- ways being bullied to step outside of her comfort zone and into prints that she found too busy, too bright, too attention- grabbing. Lani was in a pair of ripped, acid-washed blue jeans and a loud color-blocked sweater with bright red sneakers. She narrowed her eyes at what she would consider to be low frequencies emanating from Kendra’s look.
Kendra dropped a hand onto her hip and posed. “Don’t play me, I know I look good.” Her coffee-colored duster over a white cropped tee and white high-waisted jogger pants hugged her curves and made her feel clean, like fresh air after a hard rain. She’d pulled her thick, silk-pressed tresses into a sleek ponytail, and per usual, her shades sat on top of her head like a headband. Kendra ran her fingers through her pony- tail, curling the ends around her index finger, and popped her tongue playfully.
Lani leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Mmm-hmm. And a certain someone noticed too.”
“Who? Stanley? I wouldn’t exactly describe him as a chocolate drop. Maybe more like a hazelnut latte.” Kendra tilted her head, assessing the occupants of the room. There was Logan and Shonda, BJ, Auntie Al, Shonda’s sister Bree, Kendra’s par- ents, and Stanley, who was staring at Lani like she stole some- thin’. Logan had a team of people that he’d walked back toward the kitchen, who Kendra assumed were the new restaurant staff. BJ was carrying cartons of wine and spirits down to the basement cellar. Kendra’s mom and Aunt Alisa were pretending to wipe down the counters, but they’d been hovering over the same spot at the bar pointing at Kendra and whispering. The family motto should be: “Subtlety? We don’t know her.”
Stanley’s tall and lean build was squeezed behind some shelving that he was putting together for a wall display. Ken- dra’s dad, Braxton, was reading the assembly instructions aloud to Stanley, whose attention remained trained on Lani, who seemed completely unaware. Kendra made eye contact with Shonda across the room, gesturing slightly with her chin toward Stanley, and Shonda’s smile grew wide. She nodded slowly, steepling her fingers like a mastermind with an evil plan. Kendra winked in response.
“Not Stanley, silly. BJ was asking about you,” Lani whispered, her arm entwined with Kendra’s to keep her from slip- ping again.
BJ? Kendra’s face screwed up into a giant question mark. “Huh? Why?”
Her cousin shrugged. “I’ve been clocking it for the last week. Anytime your name was brought up, he was all ears.”
“I mean, we’ve known the guy a long time, so that doesn’t feel out of the ordinary to me. We haven’t seen each other in years.” Kendra’s last post before her travels was in Silicon Valley. She often returned home for the holidays, but BJ al- ways went to be with his parents in Charlotte. When Kendra had been laid off from her role as a chief data officer for a thriving startup that was absorbed by a tech giant, she’d taken her generous severance package and savings to do some soul- searching around the globe. BJ had checked in once in a while to ask where she was and how she was doing. He’d always been thoughtful in that way.
After visiting family in Thailand and the Philippines, Kendra went to parts of Europe and finished off her trip in New Orleans spending quality time with her Granny. Each destination brought her new adventures and lessons in the culinary world and in determining what tools she would use to pave her path. Everyone in the family had built a legacy in their own way, and it finally felt like Kendra’s turn.
“There’s my ray of sunshine!” Kendra’s dad opened his arms and wrapped her into a warm hug, the scent of tobacco smoke lingering on his jacket.
She squeezed him tight, tucking her chin for her father to kiss her forehead. “Daddy! Mmm, what cigar were you smoking? It smells spicy.”
“Your brother bought me a box of maduros, so we decided to have some coffee and sample them before we got started today.” Her dad’s bronzed skin and thick, straight hair was tousled with some sort of product. Born in Los Angeles to a Filipino mother and a Thai father, he was the embodiment of California, wearing a jean jacket over a light sweater and slacks. When he met his wife, Regina, at George Washington University, he embraced DC with her, setting down roots, eventually convincing Auntie Al and Uncle Ronnie to move up from New Orleans to experience all four seasons. Their time in DC was cut short as they moved back to New Orleans when they started their family––free childcare was worth the return, thanks to Granny and PawPaw.
Once Kendra and Logan were old enough to fend for themselves, Braxton and Regina moved back into their DC home, which they’d rented out while down south. Auntie Mack fell in love with Charleston, and Kendra’s maternal grandmother remained in New Orleans alone now that Paw- Paw had passed. Her paternal grandparents remained in Los Angeles, giving her a reason to get some California sunshine whenever possible, but she’d caught them on their annual trip to visit family during her time in Asia.
“That’s a bold move to start with a maduro, but you know I like those. Especially if the coffee happened to be Irish.” Kendra shared a knowing glance with her father as she pulled back, his arm still around her waist.
Braxton Porter kissed his daughter’s cheek, lowering his voice to barely a whisper before winking at her mischievously. “Your brother and I may have already had an Irish coffee or two out on the patio. Don’t tell your mother.”
Kendra giggled, raising her hands in surrender. “Your secret is safe with me.” They walked toward the bar area, which was painted a deep emerald green with creamy quartz countertops and golden fixtures. The herringbone pattern in the cherrywood flooring gleamed with gradients of reddish browns. “Wow, this place is gorgeous,” she gushed.
Natural light flooded in through massive picture windows dressed with velvet curtains the color of the faintest blush. On the windowsills were decorative vases and small plants, like succulents and snake plants—ones that didn’t require a lot of attention. On the walls were several blown-up photographs from Logan and Shonda’s travels as they’d hit different countries on their bucket list and sampled different cuisines to find the right balance of flavors to feature on their menu of global fare. BJ had busied himself hanging another portrait, and Kendra studied his profile, taking in the broadness of his shoulders and the way his Henley sleeves were pushed up to his forearms, the fabric over his chest and arms hugging his physique. This man just gets better with age . . .
“Yo, can you chill, cuz? You are lookin’ at him like he’s a
four-course meal and you wanna come back for seconds . . .”
Kendra froze, her neck and cheeks immediately coloring at Lani’s observation. “Say it louder, I think the kitchen staff didn’t hear you!” Kendra hissed, her attention snapping away from the strong arms lifting a black-and-white photograph of a wine cellar full of barrels on a long wall leading toward the unisex bathrooms.
BJ glanced in her direction before returning to his task and leveling the frame. Heat crawled up the column of Kendra’s throat, her skin boiling as she stared her cousin down.
“If he heard you, I swear on all things holy that I will tell your mom all about how her favorite cashmere sweater got ruined.” Kendra wiggled her fingers like she was casting a spell on her cousin.
“You wouldn’t.” Lani’s eyes darted around in a panic. As teenagers, she and Kendra snuck out to meet some boys, and Lani swiped her mom’s ultrasoft cardigan to wear over a barely there tank top and coochie cutters. The fast heffa swore the sweater added a level of sophistication to her look. Suffice it to say that it was St. Patty’s Day, and she spilled a green pint of beer on the luxe creamy knit, leaving a giant mint-colored swatch that she couldn’t explain. Instead, Lani framed the family dog and asserted that he’d dragged the sweater outside into the grass. Auntie Mack was devastated.
Kendra’s sinister smile spread like the Grinch stealing Christmas. “Try me.”
Excerpted from The Dating Prohibition by Taj McCoy © 2025 by Taj McCoy, used with permission from HarperCollins/MIRA Books.
No comments:
Post a Comment