For the most part, having a song stuck in one's head is a torturous – or at least annoying – occurrence. But there are a few songs that are kind of fun to have hanging around, only annoying if you fight them. Singer Toni Braxton has recorded two songs that I actually enjoy having on loop, in fragments, in my head for hours at a time. “Un-Break My Heart” and “Breathe Again” pop in and out, repeatedly, for weeks at a time, and I really don't mind. Perhaps it's a dubious achievement, but for me, Braxton is the Queen of the Pleasant Earworm.

Braxton's new memoir, Unbreak My Heart, tells the queen's story, from her modest upbringing in Severn, Maryland among a gaggle of siblings to recording chart toppers with Babyface. The Braxton kids, who had a strict religious upbringing, aspired to go beyond singing in the church to singing in recording studios. They were talented, but they spanned a broad range of years that made them an awkward fit. It didn't help that due to their mother's harsh moralistic bent, many lyrical topics were off limits, too.

Braxton treads lightly on the subject of leaving her siblings behind to pursue her own career: she seems to have had their tacit support, but Mom was a different story. One of the striking (if also confusing) things about her book is that she doesn't seem to resent how hard her mother tried to hold her back. She wouldn't put it that way, but there's really no other way to see it.

Unbreak My Heart is anecdotal and clearly written, mostly focused on Braxton's rise to success. When she was still in college, she tells a story about getting five bucks from her dad, which is just enough for the day. Two dollars for lunch, and three for gas. She tells us which gas station she went to and why (slightly cheaper) and how that affected her route to school. She drives over the cord that dings for the attendant when she accidentally pulls up to the full service pumps, and swings around to the other side.

These details are mundane, but they build up to a real description of a real day. It's deceptively simple, a sly way of describing what would turn out to be big day for her. The gas station attendant would prove to be a part-time music producer who had seen Braxton sing at spots around town. This stop at Amoco would lead to her first recording contract. It's nice that Braxton doesn't turn her story into a triumph over adversity or some kind of her-against-the-naysayers tale, but embraces the role of chance on her journey to becoming a pop superstar – and for this reader, a certain kind of royalty.