New Release: Serenaded by the Alien Vampire Rock Star by Crymsyn Hart #AlienEncounters #SciFiRomance @crymsynhart

After Irene Beckham accidentally discovers rock star Ace Hendrix’s big secret, she wakes up in his bedroom without any memory of how she got there. As flashes of her memory of the night before return, Ace makes her an offer. Let him suck her blood, and he’ll make her a wealthy woman if she can stay quiet about it. Ace even proves to her he didn’t take advantage of her the night before.

When the press gets wind of Ace’s new fling, Irene decides she’s not the right woman for him, but Ace knows they’re meant to be together. He doesn’t care what the paparazzi says, he has to have her in his life no matter the cost.

Get it today at Changeling Press

Or Preoder for November 27th at online booksellers

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Crymsyn Hart

Irene opened her eyes and rolled her neck. A stab of pain struck her throat. She sat up and pushed her hair back. Her fingers hit her glasses. She pulled them off and found they had been fixed. “What the hell?”

Glancing around, she discovered she’d woken up in a room not her own. Dark blue walls were hung with pictures of the ocean and cliffside vistas. One was so huge it made it seem like she looked out a window. And yet she couldn’t find any windows. A bed large enough to sleep four people took up most of the room. What the fuck happened? She took off her glasses and inspected them to make sure they were hers. She ran her hands over the wall, looking for any crack that could be a door. After going over the whole room, she knocked on the walls to hear if any were hollow. With nothing but hurting knuckles, she slammed her fist on a bare spot on the wall.

“Let me out of here,” she screamed.

“Enough with the yelling. I have a headache as it is,” a male voice came over a speaker.

“Who are you and what are you going to do with me?” Irene scanned the room looking for a speaker.

Something clicked and a portion of the wall popped out. Someone hovered in the hallway. “Come on. We have a few things to discuss before you can go.” She recognized Ace’s voice.

Irene followed the rocker. Posters of old concerts from Buddy Holly, Jimmy Hendrix, The Doors, Madonna, all from different eras of music and mixed with framed golden records lined the hallway. As she ran after him, all she could stare at was his ass in those leather pants. “Mr. Hendrix, how did I end up here?”

He turned down the hall and Irene rushed to catch up with him. He turned another corner. She found him as he grabbed a bottle of water from a fridge that blended in with the cabinets around it. He flung himself down onto a sofa and gestured for her to take a seat across from him.

Irene sank down into the couch. Records, CDs, cassette tapes, anything music-related lined the bookshelves around the room. “You have quite a music collection.”

His gaze roamed around the room and a slight smile came on his face. “Thanks. I’ve been collecting for a long time. Music’s always been my escape. Would you like some water?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He tossed the bottle of water at her. It hit the back of the couch next to her and bounced onto the seat. “Sorry. Like I said I’m getting over the hangover from last night.”

“About last night. How did I get here? Back at your house? Where’s my friend?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to recall what happened. Her head pounded as she tried to draw forth the memories after she waited in line with Bev for Ace. “My glasses got knocked off and trampled. You picked them up and your assistant gave me and Bev backstage passes.” A spear of pain sliced her temple. She tried to pull up more. It remained out of her reach. “I don’t know.” She ran her fingers over her jeans as a thought passed through her head. “We didn’t… ahh…”

“Fuck?” he asked.

Her cheeks burned at his language. “Yeah.”

“No, we didn’t. After you wandered into my dressing room, you fainted. Nicole, my assistant, brought in my doctor. He said you’d passed out from having too much to drink. I thought it best to have you brought back here to sleep it off where no one’d bother you. We put you in the guestroom to sleep it off. I can have my car take you wherever you need to go.”

Irene sipped the water and thought back to being with Bev before the show. “I didn’t have anything to drink.”

“You sure? Maybe your friend slipped you something. It’d account for you thinking your glasses were broken.”

“They were. You picked them up for me.”

“You stumbled and dropped them right in front of me, but they weren’t broken.”

Nothing of what he said made any sense to her. Irene tried to rack her mind at what happened the night before. The ache hit her temple again. She winced. “No… I…”

“Look, you’re awake. You seem fine to me. Now, I have a life to get back to. It was very nice to meet you. I’ll have my driver take you home. Come on.”

Ace got up and walked out of the room. Irene sat trying to make sense of what he’d said. This doesn’t sound right. If I passed out, then Bev would’ve wormed her way into coming with me, playing at being nursemaid. She squeezed her eyes shut and recalled clearly her glasses had been broken. They went backstage with Nicole, and then she had tried to find the restroom. And then… she walked into Ace’s dressing room, but he was…

“What the hell was he doing?” Irene whispered.

ABOUT CRYMSYN HART

Crymsyn Hart is a National Bestselling author of over eighty paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic and ghostly encounters have given her a lot of material to use in her books. Vampires, grim reapers, shifters, and other paranormal creatures tend to end up in her books no matter how hard she tries to keep them away.

She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.

To find out more about Crymsyn, check out her website on: www.crymsynhart.com

Release Blitz: Starting From Here by Lane Hayes #SecondChanceRomance #LGBTQ @LaneHayes3

Title: Starting From Here

Series: Starting From, #3

Author: Lane Hayes

Publisher: Lane Hayes

Release Date: October 1, 2020

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 80k

Genre: Romance, Bisexual, Enemies to lovers, Rock and roll, Second Chance, Fake Boyfriend

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Synopsis

Two bands, one goal, and a second chance…

Declan-

Everything is finally going well. I have a new band, a new label, and a debut album coming out. And then my drummer breaks his wrists. Just my luck. I need a quick replacement to record one more song, but my options are limited, and of course, the obvious candidate hates my guts. Okay, so I may have given him a few reasons over the years, but isn’t there an expiration date on holding a grudge?

Tegan-

I don’t trust Declan McNamara. Sure, he’s talented, smart, and has more sex appeal than any one person should be allowed. And yeah, he may be a rock star in the making, but beware—he’s trouble. However, our new record label’s survival may depend on a truce and extreme measures…of the fake boyfriend variety. If it’s our best shot at the big time, I’m willing to set the past aside and start over…here and now.

Starting From Here is a MM, bisexual romance rock and roll style…rival bands, fake boyfriends, and a second chance at a new love story. Each book in the Starting From series can be read as a stand-alone.

Excerpt

The sound of cheerful squealing rang in the background before she hung up. I stared into space for a minute or two, feeling very…alone. I didn’t want to slip into teenage levels of self-pity. There was really nothing lamer than a privileged grown-ass adult whining about mommy issues. I flipped through television channels, pausing on a special about great white sharks. Then I tossed the controller aside and picked up my cell again.

Would you ever swim with sharks?

My phone buzzed immediately. I smiled when Tegan’s name lit the screen. Are you high?

I wish. Swimming with sharks is a thing. People get in cages and film themselves being surrounded by predators…for fun.

People are fucking crazy.

True.

What are you watching?

National Geographic. I was hoping for a sex in the wild segment, but I got sharks instead.

Shark sex?

I grinned. Nope. I don’t think I’m ready for that.

It’s not exciting. Fish sex is seriously unhot.

True.

My chuckled morphed into a belly laugh as I sank deeper into the cushion. I shared a quick story about the saucy squirrels who were getting it on outside my window last spring. Tegan teased me for being a rodent voyeur, then recommended a few human porn sites I might appreciate instead.

Btw, it’s officially midnight. Congrats.

I stared at the screen for a moment. I typed and erased two or three thank-yous that seemed a little too effusive. I didn’t want to come across as too excited or too grateful and somehow clingy, so I gave up and pressed Call.

“Hey.”

“Are you really fucking calling me?”

I chuckled. “Yeah. I am. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. But it’s midnight, and I hate talking on the phone, so good ni—”

“Don’t hang up.”

“What’s wrong?”

I stared at the TV unseeing. “Nothing. I just…I’m keyed up and I need someone to talk to. What was your first release like? I know Zero’s record is still doing well. But…what was like in the beginning? How’d you feel?”

Silence.

“You want the truth?”

“Yeah.”

“It was anticlimactic.”

“Oh. That’s kind of depressing.”

“No, it’s just life. Nothing ever happens as fast as you want it to. You’ve got to be patient and keep doing your thing,” he advised. “We came home from our summer tour thinking we made it. What didn’t turn into superstars, but we made progress. And every day it gets better. But who knows what will happen? Maybe you’ll wake up at number one. Just stay positive and…stop torturing yourself.”

I smiled when Tegan’s uplifting advice gave way to exasperation. It was cute.

“It’s what I do. I excel at the art of self-sabotage. Ask my mom. If I bomb, you can be sure she’ll be the first one to say ‘I told you so.’ She’ll choose her words carefully, though. She’ll be kind-ish before she gently suggests that it’s time to throw in the towel and join the family firm. Fuck my life.”

“But it’s your life. The honor of making mistakes or kicking ass is all yours. You wrote those songs to be heard. Not everyone will love what you do, but plenty of people will. You just gotta be right in your own head. Ask yourself if you gave your best. Did you?”

“Of course.”

“You’ll do just fine, then. If you sell a million copies, great. If not, you’ll still learn something.”

Silence.

“Thanks. I needed that,” I said softly.

“You’re welcome. Now go to sleep.”

“I’m an almost rock star, and it’s midnight. My night is just beginning,” I lied, stifling a yawn.

“Have fun, rock god,” he snorted.

“I’m kidding. I’m channel surfing.”

“You mean porn surfing?”

I barked a quick laugh. “No, I get my porn on the internet like everyone else. I was watching that show about hoarders. It made me feel better somehow.”

“You’re a freak. Get your computer and jack off. You’ll feel better, and you’ll sleep better,” he advised sagely.

“Thanks, Dr. Monroe. I’ll report back in the morning.”

“Not necessary. Especially if there’re boobs involved.”

“I watch more dick porn than chick porn. I watched a great locker room scene last night. The coach and the quarterback. Sexy as fuck.”

“Are you really sharing a spank-bank story?”

“Yeah, you want the link?”

Purchase at Amazon

Meet the Author

Lane Hayes loves a good romance! An avid reader from an early age, she has always been drawn to well-told love story with beautifully written characters. Her debut novel was a 2013 Rainbow Award finalist and subsequent books have received Honorable Mentions, and were winners in the 2016, 2017, and 2018-2019 Rainbow Awards. She loves red wine, chocolate and travel (in no particular order). Lane lives in Southern California with her amazing husband in a not quite empty nest.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | Bookbub

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Spotlight: Dreamland by Beth D. Carter #TimeTravel #Rockstar #RomanceBooks @BethDCarter

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What inspired you to write Dreamland?

Ever since the genre exploded in the mainstream romance world back in 1986, with the publication of Timeless Passion by Constance O’Day Flannery, I have loved time travel. It had always been my goal to write time travel in a unique way, and Dreamland certainly delivers on that! I love all the books I’ve written, but I have to admit, this one is my favorite.

Tell us something about the novel that doesn’t appear on the blurb or the excerpt.

Okay, obviously if the book is set in Hollywood during the Roaring Twenties, I had to mention someone famous. So…Dicen and Juliet go to a party and he sees a man that’s slightly familiar. Juliet tells him it’s John Barrymore, and he replies now he sees the resemblance to Drew. Juliet asks who’s that, and he replies “Just a girl I know.” I think the scene is hilarious!

How much research went into Dreamland?

I wanted this to be as authentic as possible so a lot of research went into the lingo. The 1920s was a completely unique time period, rich and beautiful as well as dangerous and frivolous. We as readers know what’s right around the bend for these people, how the world descends into the  Great Depression, and we feel that live-or-die exuberance from the characters. And it’s heartbreakingly intriguing. That’s what I love about this book and these characters.

 

The Roaring Twenties lingo

Bimbo: refers to a macho man

Giggle water: liquor, alcoholic beverage

Half-seas over: shitfaced

Jake: okay, as in “Everything’s fine”

Ossified: drunk

Big six: tough, like a six-cylinder engine

Keen: appealing, good looking

Balled up: messed up

Bee’s knees: great

Rummy: drunk man       

Applesauce: ridiculous

Drugstore cowboy: man hanging around the street corners     

   

 Dreamland

 

Blurb

Dicen Burke had it all.  As lead singer in the world famous rock band, Dark Army, the world lay at his feet.  But the path to super stardom warred with a painful past and during a performance the demons haunting him finally descended.  Unable to stop the self-destructive path of alcohol and drugs, when he fell, he fell hard.

He wakes up in a world he doesn’t know.  The Twenty-first century rocker is now in the 1920’s, lost and bewildered.  He’s taken in by Juliet Fox, a beautiful woman trying to be a positive influence in her brother’s wild lifestyle among the Hollywood Motion Picture elite.

Dicen does his best to adapt, and with Juliet by his side, he discovers a world that offers him a clean slate.  But when he’s pulled back to the present, separated by time from the one person that gives him a reason to live, will he find a way to push past his demons as well as find Juliet again?

 

Excerpt

              “Hey you,” a soft voice commanded.  “Open your eyes please”

            He tried to obey, struggling to push past the lingering darkness that clung to him like a second skin.  God, he felt horrible.

            “That’s it,” she soothed.  “Open your eyes.  Look at me.”
Finally, he managed to raise his eyelids.  An angel leaned over him, staring into his eyes.  She smiled at him so he smiled back.  He had always thought it would be demons that would come collect him when he died so it amazed him that heaven was calling.

            “Ah, a set of beautiful baby blues,” she murmured, stroking his cheek.  “Hello, handsome.”

            He opened his mouth to say something but the words wouldn’t come.  His tongue felt swollen, dry.  He forced himself to swallow to try to get some saliva flowing.

            “W-what happened?”

            She cocked her head.  “Bad hooch I’m thinking.  Gotta be careful of certain juice joints.  Come,” she said, holding out her hand.  “Let’s get you sitting upright.”

            He hadn’t realized he’d been lying down but as she helped him up, he realized the halo around her head had been nothing more but the flickering of a street light accentuating the midnight hue of her hair.  When he was vertical once more, he finally saw all of the woman’s features.  Short bobbed hair held back by a headband made of crystal beads while dark eyes watched him from under thin, perfectly arched eyebrows.  Her lips were a cupid’s bow, painted a deep red.  Her skin a flawless pale shade that contrasted sharply with her heavily made up eyes.

            “Like what you see?” she asked.

            He blinked.  “I always like my fans.  Where am I?”

            One of those thin eyebrows arched.  “That hooch must’ve really made you balled up.  You’re off Hollywood Boulevard, of course, belly up in an alley.”

            He looked around, completely baffled.  How the hell did he get here?  Where was the stage?  The screaming fans?  Kieron, Van and Tony?

            “Do you have a name, handsome?”

            “Yeah, sorry.  I’m Dicen Burke.”

            He waited.  He waited for the name to sink in, for her eyes to widen, for her to begin batting her eyes in an attempt to flirt her way into his bed.

            “Juliet,” she said.  “Juliet Fox.  I was looking for my brother, Thayer, and figured I’d find him upchucking out here and instead I find a keen big six.  Say, you’re no drugstore cowboy are you?”

            “Excuse me?”  Her lack of a response to his name, along with slang he didn’t understand, threw him.

            “You know, a guy that hangs around street corners looking to pick up ladies.  Just so we’re clear on the matter, I ain’t that kind of girl,” she informed him, the smile on her face lessening the harshness of her tone.  “Have you seen another man out here, by chance, throwing up?”

            She confused him.  He shook his head and then wished he hadn’t when it throbbed.  “God, I need an aspirin.”

Where to Buy

https://www.evernightpublishing.com/dreamland-by-beth-d-carter/

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2ZHel9F

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2Zq2uMZ

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2VDlGpo

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2Ajug54

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1030642

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dreamland-beth-d-carter/1117390657?ean=2940164129965

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/dreamland-67

 

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Bio & Social Media Links

I began reading my mom’s Harlequin Presents in the fifth grade, and from the first story I knew I wanted to write romance novels. I like writing about the very ordinary girl thrust into extraordinary circumstances, so my heroines will probably never be lawyers, doctors or corporate highrollers.  I try to write characters who aren’t cookie cutters and push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box.  I love writing characters who are real, complex and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. You can find me on the web at:

http://bethdcarter.blogspot.com/

https://twitter.com/BethDCarter
https://www.facebook.com/bethdcarterauthor

https://www.instagram.com/bethdcarter/

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/beth-d-carter

Amazon author page:  http://www.amazon.com/BethD.Carter/e/B00EOTD1T0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1385417145&sr=8-1

 

Watch the Book Trailer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YXCKdpjlb7U

 

 

Release Blitz: Drifter by Eden Winters #LGBT #Rockstar #ContemporaryRomance

Title: Drifter

Author: Eden Winters

Publisher: Rocky Ridge Books

Release Date: 7/7/20

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 238

Genre: Romance, Contemporary, Rocker

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Synopsis

Some legends never die.

Killian Desmond met his end in the fiery crash that killed his band, or so the newspapers say. Now a nameless drifter, he plays one pick-up gig after another in a haze of pain and regret, moving on the minute someone says, “You sound like that guy from Trickster.”

Getting outed cost Mike Rose his musical family. A bassist without a band, he’ll play any kind of music to earn a paycheck, but Trickster’s music provides light during the darkest moments of his life.

A chance meeting brings together two lost souls who spark enough heat to set their guitars on fire. Their chemistry, both onstage and off, feels like something written in the words of a song and gives them courage to face life again.

But to seize their future, they have to confront their past.

Excerpt

The throbbing beat blended with screams from the crowd; a crowd hidden by bright lights. Sweat and cologne and beer filled Killian Desmond’s nose. Familiar sounds. Familiar scents.

Home.

Did he love this life or hate it? Who cared, he’d never known another. Back to back with his brother Elliot, he shredded his electric acoustic guitar, improvising for the fans. The strings bent to his callused fingertips, note after note falling from his guitar.

Elliot kept up. Elliot always kept up. Others might get lost in Killy’s musical fantasies, but El gauged Killy’s intentions by the way he moved, held his shoulders, or gestures, like pausing to flip his sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes.

The drummer and keyboardist faded away, letting El set the tone with a deep bass beat.

Killy strutted to the front of the stage. Hot lights illuminated him from behind, shining on sweat-soaked skin. “What you wanna hear?” He didn’t need the words to know they’d be sticking to their prearranged lineup. At their manager’s urging, he’d saved the best for last.

Highway!” roared through the arena.

He grinned and cupped a hand to one ear. “What’s that? I can’t hear you.”

Highway!” roughly six thousand voices cried out in unison, louder this time.

“Aw, c’mon, now,” Killy teased. “We’ll play whatever you want, but you gotta tell us.”

The thunderous chant of “Highway! Highway! Highway!” threatened to blow the roof off the building.

Strolling over a few paces and throwing an arm around his brother, Killy said, “Well, I reckon we better do as they say.”

“Since when have you ever taken orders?” Elliot shot back.

Faster than most could follow, Killy slung his guitar back into place and launched into their best-known riff.

The screaming nearly deafened him. He tried again. On his sixth attempt the crowd settled enough to begin.

He grinned. Adoration and energy flowed from the crowd, straight into his veins, to gather strength and escape through his fingers and his voice.

His deep growl purred through the arena, pouring out the melody he’d written in a single night in a hotel room God knew where. High on life, cheap vodka, and the rush of their first big show, he’d settled onto the bed in the dark, except for the flickering image of a black and white movie on the TV, sound turned down, and began strumming.

The words flowed out of him unbidden, leaving him raw, shaken, and in possession of a number one hit.

He didn’t sing or play Highway—the melody made him its bitch, possessing him, demanding release into the world.

Who was he to refuse?

“Some were born to sand and wind, on the sea they make their home

Some may live a hermit’s life, on a mountain all alone

Or in a glass and metal cage, high up in the sky

Packed in tight with a thousand souls, all trying to get by

Nine to five may work for some, but that don’t work for me

Saddled to day in day out, no, I need to be free

Living a life all on my own, free of family, lover or friend

On the highway I was born, it’s there I’ll meet my end.”

Alone, just him and the highway, until the chorus.

“On the highway I was born, it’s there I’ll meet my end.”

Elliot’s sweet tenor wrapped around Killy’s pack-a-day growl, blending together seamlessly.

The audience joined in, chanting, “Highway! Highway! Live and die on the highway!”

Rob kept pace on the drums, a musician not really worthy of the band they’d become, and Ace, a friend and one hell of a musician, wound his way through the twists and turns on his keyboards.

“The only home I’ll ever know stretches from sea to sea

No start, no end, no in between, just miles of road and me

Living a life all on my own free of family, lover or friend

On the highway I was born, it’s there I’ll meet my end

Highway! Highway! Live and die on the highway!

Highway! Highway! Live and die on the highway!

Highway! Highway! Live and die on the highway!”

The mass of humanity might have started chanting again for all Killy knew. His world boiled down to this moment, the music, his brother, his friend, and the life laid out for him long ago, the first time his mother brought him and Elliot onstage.

They’d stayed. She’d gone.

Here they still stood, though she didn’t.

Never would again.

Nope, no bad thoughts. Just the music.

Note after note poured from him like rain, blocking thought and feeling.

He crashed to his knees, striking a chord and letting his guitar speak for him. Caught in the spotlight, he leaned back in a signature move his manager made him practice, making his shirt ride up to show some skin, while his hair fell back, glittering like gold in a strategically placed spotlight.

The blue streak, his own addition, voiced his defiance at being a commodity.

He should’ve been exhausted after the show they’d put on, but in that moment, he swore he could go all night.

He jumped to his feet, racing across the stage and running through part of the guitar solo for those seated to the left of the stage, then reversed course to the right, repeating the solo.

Arms reached for him, a thousand voices calling his name.

Rejoining Elliot centerstage, he launched into the chorus and let the others join him.

After extending the song by two more choruses, he finally wound down.

An announcer stepped up on stage, to catcalls, whistles and ear-splitting shouts. “Let’s hear it for Trickster!”

Purchase at Amazon

Meet the Author

You will know Eden Winters by her distinctive white plumage and exuberant cry of “Hey, y’all!” in a Southern US drawl so thick it renders even the simplest of words unrecognizable. Watch out, she hugs!

Driven by insatiable curiosity, she possibly holds the world’s record for curriculum changes to the point that she’s never quite earned a degree but is a force to be reckoned with at Trivial Pursuit.

She’s trudged down hallways with police detectives, learned to disarm knife-wielding bad guys, and witnessed the correct way to blow doors off buildings. Her e-mail contains various snippets of forensic wisdom, such as “What would a dead body left in a Mexican drug tunnel look like after six months?” In the process of her adventures she has written twenty gay romance novels, has won Rainbow Awards, was a Lambda Awards Finalist, and lives in terror of authorities showing up at her door to question her Internet searches.

When not putting characters in dangerous situations she’s a mild-mannered business executive, mother, grandmother, vegetarian, and PFLAG activist.

Her natural habitats are airports, coffee shops, and on the backs of motorcycles.

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Release Boost: Rock F*ck Club by Michelle Mankin #Rockstar #RomanceBooks

Title: Rock F*ck Club Book 6
Series: Girls Ranking the Rock Stars #6
Author: Michelle Mankin
Genre: Rockstar Romance
Release Date: June 15, 2020

Josephine Poet has completed filming for her season of the Rock F*ck Club. The rocker she has chosen has invited her to take a long ride with him…on his motorcycle. She wants nothing more than to spend every moment she can with the handsome lead singer of Anthem. But is the Rock F*ck Club really through for her? Are her troubles truly behind her? Or are they lurking just around the next bend in the road?

Michelle Mankin is the New York Times bestselling author of the Black Cat Records series of novels. 
Fall in love with a rock star.
Love Evolution, Love Revolution, and Love Resolution are a BRUTAL STRENGTH centered trilogy, combining the plot underpinnings of Shakespeare with the drama, excitement, and indisputable sexiness of the rock ‘n roll industry.
Things take a bit of an edgier, once upon a time turn with the TEMPEST series. These pierced, tatted, and troubled Seattle rockers are young and on the cusp of making it big, but with serious obstacles to overcome that may prevent them from ever getting there.
Rock stars, myths, and legends collide with paranormal romance in a totally mesmerizing way in the MAGIC series.
Romance and self-discovery, the FINDING ME series is a Tempest spin off with a more experienced but familiar cast of characters.
The ROCK F*CK CLUB series is a girl-power fueled reality show with the girls ranking the rock stars.
The Once Upon A Rock Star series is sexy modern fairytale retellings.
When Michelle is not prowling the streets of her Texas town listening to her rock or NOLA funk music much too loud, she is putting her daydreams down on paper or traveling the world with her family and friends, sometimes for real, and sometimes just for pretend.


BRUTAL STRENGTH series: 
Love Evolution
Love Revolution
Love Resolution
Love Rock’ollection
TEMPEST series (also available in audio):

Irresistible Refrain
Enticing Interlude
Captivating Bridge
Relentless Rhythm
Tempest Raging
Tempting Tempo
Scandalous Beat
The MAGIC series (also available in audio):

Strange Magic
Dream Magic
Twisted Magic
ROCK STARS, SURF AND SECOND CHANCES series (also available in audio):

Outside
Riptide
Oceanside
High Tide
Island Side
The Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances Series, Books 1-5
FINDING ME series (also available in audio):

Find Me
Remember Me
Keep Me
Girls Ranking the Rock Stars series (also available in audio):

ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars, Book 1)
ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars, Book 2)
ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars, Book 3)
ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars, Book 4)
ROCK F*CK CLUB (Girls Ranking the Rock Stars, Book 5)
ONCE UPON A ROCK STAR series

The Right Man
The Right Wish
The Right Wrong

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Bad for Me by Lee Piper #Rockstar #Romance

Title: Bad For Me
Series: Rock Me Series
Author: Lee Piper
Genre: Rockstar Romance
Release Date: April 22, 2020
Cover Design: CT Cover Creations

I’m not supposed to crave the drummer of the hottest new rock act or notice his tortured green eyes. I shouldn’t care that he shies away from everyone. I’m a journalist and I have one job to do.

 

 
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But selling his secrets for tomorrow’s headlines would not only ruin him, it would destroy me. Yesterday, I had a future. Today, I have a choice—career suicide or protect a drummer who hates me.

 

 
   
 
 
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Schoolboy Blues by Kiernan Kelly #ContemporaryRomance #NewRelease #GayRomance #LGBTbooks #RockStar @changelingpress @KiernanKelly

School Boy Blues (Set In Stone Multi-Author 6)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Karen Fox

 

Once best friends, Angelo and Vincent parted after a night of hot passion and conflicting emotions.

Rock star Angelo knows a good thing when he’s got it, and what he has on stage with his band now is as good as it gets. He clings to that knowledge during the times when he longs for the warmth of a lover in his heart and his bed.

Vincent has grown adept at ducking his mother’s probing questions about grandbabies, while dedicating his life to nailing perps to the jailhouse wall in criminal court. His family and his career bring him satisfaction, but he dares not pursue a relationship that would complete his life.

Could the music that led to their parting a decade ago be the bond that brings these two lovers back together again?

 

Get it TODAY at Changeling Press

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Praise for School Boy Blues (Set in Stone)

“If you like rock stars and tough prosecutors who share a weak spot for each other, if you enjoy the “magic” of the 1970s, and if you’re looking for a read that is as short as it is hot, occasionally funny, and just a little suspenseful toward the end, then you will probably like this novella.”

— Serena Yates, Rainbow Book Reviews
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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Kiernan Kelly

Rush groaned, and banged his phone against his forehead a few times in frustration. It would leave a mark, but he didn’t care. Stage makeup was very forgiving. “Fine. We’ll do it, but no interviews. Nobody backstage. No VIPs, no reporters, no fans, nada. I mean it, Bernie. If I hear one fucking question or see one camera, I’ll walk. Understand?”

Bernie’s voice dropped an octave. “Sure, sure. Excellent. I knew you’d see reason. Okay. You fly out on the third, and I’ve booked the band the top floor at the Marriott. The rest of the company will be staying at a Quality Inn. I’ve rented a bus for them, and a limo for you guys. Two shows, Friday and Saturday nights. Any special requests for the hotel rooms or the green room at the Palace?”

“Not from me. Ask the boys what they want.” Rush was done, and just wanted to hang up and go strum his guitar for a while. That always calmed him down, let him think. If he was lucky, the music would flush the sliminess of Bernie’s voice from his ears.

“You got it. It’s going to be an awesome weekend. Ciao.”

Rush hung up without saying good bye. Ciao. As far as Rush knew, Bernie couldn’t even spell ciao. In Bernie’s little pointy head, it was probably spelled “chow.” Bernie didn’t like Italian food, and the closest he’d ever gotten to Italy was when the band dragged his ass to the San Gennaro Feast in Little Italy in New York last September. Pretentious bastard.

He grabbed Cleaver, his acoustic guitar, and flopped on to the sofa in the living room. Cleaver was a sweet maple Gibson he’d bought back in 1962 when he was still in high school, and paid for it with the money he’d made working a paper route. He remembered the first time he saw it hanging in one of the windows at the Woolworths on Main Avenue in Passaic. He thought then it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and still did. Even though he wailed on a Fender onstage, the axe never felt as good in his hands as good ol’ Cleaver did.

There were a lifetime of memories scarring the neck and body. Every nick and scratch had a story to tell. Like the little ding next to the bridge, for example. He remembered exactly how and when it’d been put there — by a carelessly tossed shoe on the night he lost his virginity to Vincenzo Genovese.

A smile lifted his lips even now, as he ran his finger over the dimple in the otherwise smooth wood. God, they’d been so young, their bodies so hard and eager. It’d been over almost as soon as it began, but he could still almost feel the sharpness of his orgasm, how it had ripped through his body like white lightning, searing every part of him. His cock stirred as the old, aching need surfaced again.

And deflated just as quickly as the other memory he associated with Vinnie Genovese surfaced. He rubbed his jaw as if he could still feel Vinnie’s hard fist connecting with it, loosening two teeth.

You were both seventeen, and confused about who you were and what you were feeling. Him more than you. How long are you gonna hold on to that grudge?

Shut up, he told the needling voice in his head. He didn’t want introspection right now. He wanted escape.

Trying to push the negative feelings away, his fingers began to strum the strings. It took several moments before he realized he recognized the tune, although he hadn’t played it in years. It was Schoolboy Blues, the song he’d written for Vinnie. The lyrics came back to him with the melody, and he began to sing, low and sweet.

“Your hands play my body like I play my guitar, drawing out a melody my heart sings; no matter where we are, near or far, I will always love the magic loving you brings.”

He stopped playing, silencing the guitar by pressing his palm over the strings, and ended the song with a wry snort. The lyrics were amateurish, syrupy high school crap, sure, but they still made his throat tighten and brought a curious burning to his eyes.

“Fuck you, Bernie. Why Jersey? Why now?”

 

More from Kiernan at Changeling Press …

Kiernan’s stories of gay romance envelop diverse themes ranging from paranormal to fantasy, and science fiction to contemporary romance. She has fifteen novels currently in print and ebook, and over eighty shorter works available in both mediums. Contrary to popular opinion, she is not a zombie. Yet.

You can find Kiernan on her website at http://www.kiernankelly.com/ or on Facebook or at Cafe Risque http://caferisque.blogspot.com, or you can e-mail the author.

 

 

99 cent sale! CAN’T GET ENOUGH (a rock star romance) by Harley Wylde @HarleyW_Writer #99cents #onsale #NewAdult #RomanceBooks

CantGetEnough99cents

 

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On sale until 11:59pm pacific time on August 10th!

 

JACE
When Sinful Seduction made it big, my life changed, and not always in awesome ways. The groupies were great at first, until one decided to fake a pregnancy and claim the kid was mine. My bandmates had my back, and while the woman backed down fast when I demanded a paternity test, it still shook me. I knew it was time for another change, one where I kept my pants zipped. And then I saw her across the bar… the goddess with golden waves, and her sexy little librarian outfit. I knew she was different, and I wanted to make her mine. Should have known better than to get drunk in Vegas. You know how they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Bullshit. Total and complete bullshit. But maybe this time my mistake will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

HONEY
I dumped my cheating fiancée, hopped a plane to Vegas, and hit the latest writer’s convention. On what should have been my wedding day, I was throwing back drinks like they were fruit punch. To be fair, they probably had fruit punch in them. When I woke up the next morning with a hard body pressed to mine, and a silver band on a very important finger, I thought I’d screwed up more than ever before. Imagine my surprise when the wannabe rocker I married turned out to be even more famous than me — and wait for it — he wanted to stay married! Even with a battered heart, I still believed in happily-ever-after, but what could a rock star and a romance author have in common?

Chemistry… Intense, curl your toes, melt your panties chemistry. Relationships have been based on worse, right?

*WARNING: If you don’t like foul-mouthed bad boys, lots of hot sex, and an accidental marriage, then you should probably skip this book.

 

Still not sure it’s the right book for you? Keep reading for a sneak peek…

 

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

JACE

I stared into the crowd, their faces and writhing bodies a blur under the multi-hued lights. Sweat rolled down my temples and my spine as the lyrics poured out of me, more out of habit than passion. Fierce Seduction had been at the top of the charts for the past year as we’d toured the country. My fingers flew over the strings of my guitar, the riffs to the songs coming as easy as the women screaming my name. I couldn’t look at them without seeing her face, the stupid cunt who thought she was going to catch herself a one-way ticket to stardom.

It had been the week from hell. A groupie I’d fucked nearly a damn year ago contacted my manager, threatening to go public if I didn’t pay her a million dollars to keep quiet. She claimed the baby she’d had two weeks before was my son, but I knew better. I was super fucking cautious when it came to fucking the whores who threw themselves at me. I not only wore a condom, but I usually pulled out too. No way in hell I was getting trapped by some gold-digging bitch.

Fuck. Would this concert never end? We were playing Vegas, and the venue was sold out. It was our last show before heading home on Monday. The band had agreed we’d play Friday night, then fuck around for two days on the strip before flying back to L.A. Best fucking idea ever. I wasn’t big into gambling, but the bar at the Bellagio was calling my name. I was certain they had several bottles of vodka with my name on them. I just hadn’t decided if I was celebrating the fact that the kid wasn’t mine or trying to drown myself over the fuckery that was my life. When you’d fucked enough women that they all blurred together, and your reputation was so tattered those same women thought they could blackmail you, then maybe it was time to get off the merry-go-round.

The last few bars of the song played out, our final for this show, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell off the stage. The fans screamed and catcalled, all of them wanting a piece of us. It had been a thrill a minute when the stardom had first hit. I couldn’t believe how lucky we’d been, or that we were finally riding the top of the charts. There was this huge rush when we took the stage, or when some hot college girl tossed her panties at me, or better yet, informed me she wasn’t wearing any. I’d definitely earned my reputation as a panty dropper. I’d been proud as hell of the way women fawned all over me, until that wake-up call last week. Nothing can kill your buzz quicker than some chick claiming she got knocked up with your kid, some faceless stranger you fucked and forgot. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever learned her name before bending her over.

Backstage, I snagged a bottle of water and guzzled the entire damn thing. Tossing it into the trash, I braced myself for what came next. The adoring fans who had backstage passes. A VIP room had been set up for the occasion, and I knew those women only wanted one thing. To lay claim to one of us for the night, hell, even for an hour.

“You in a hurry to get your dick wet?” Simon asked with a leer. “A room full of free pussy, and it’s all ours for the taking.”

“I’m signing some autographs then I’m getting the fuck out of here,” I said as I stormed down the hallways toward a fate worse than death.

“Since when do you turn away free pussy?”

“Since Rochelle.” I’d tried not to utter that cunt’s name, but it was ingrained in my memory ever since I’d gotten the letter from her attorney.

Simon winced. “That was some rotten luck, but it all worked out. You demanded that paternity test and proved her to be the fucking liar that she is. You’re not going to let one woman fuck with your head like that, are you?”

I shrugged and pushed through the doors to the VIP room. The squeals and shrieks assaulted my ears as about six pairs of hands reached for me. Revulsion rolled through me as I looked at their too-heavy makeup and skin tight clothes. Why had I ever been attracted to women like these? They were desperate and didn’t care who they hurt, as long as they got what they wanted. Me.

Signing whatever they thrust my way—paper, water bottles, boobs—I finally made my way through the crowd and out the doors on the opposite side. When I rushed outside of the venue, I ignored the screaming fans, trusting that security would keep them off my back while I disappeared into the night. I took several detours, making sure I wasn’t followed, and finally arrived at the Bellagio. I’d stayed here before when I wasn’t touring with the band, and as I stepped inside, it felt like the building was welcoming me back. The place was packed, but I managed to find a spot at the end of the bar. Hopefully out of sight of everyone but the bartender.

I motioned for him to come over and ordered six shots of vodka. They burned on the way down as I slammed one after another. It would take a hell of a lot more to get me shitfaced, but it was a decent start. The next hour blurred as I downed everything from vodka to whiskey to Jagermeister.  I felt warm, and loose, and completely blissed out by the time I noticed her.

My eyes took in the neat updo and the prim glasses perched on her nose. The way she sipped at the fruity drink in front of her made me think this wasn’t her usual scene. The dress she had on was sexy yet sedate. Fuck if she didn’t make me burn hotter than the god damn sun. Her lips, a succulent berry color, fit around the straw of her red drink, and I watched as her gaze flitted around the room. The jackass next to her was so fucking drunk he nearly knocked her off the barstool twice, earning the creep a glare that would have made a cross nun proud. I half expected her to whip out a ruler and rap his knuckles with it.

Whoever this angel was, I knew I wanted to find out more about her, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do that sitting way over here. I shouldered my way through the crowd and shoved the drunk off his stool before claiming it for myself. She blinked up at me in surprise, the blue depths of her eyes pulling me in. The angel licked her lips as she leaned a little closer.

Holy Hell.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a slight slur to her words. Just how many of those drinks had she had?

“I won’t knock you off your stool, but I can’t promise I won’t sweep you off your feet.”

What. The. Fuck. Did that shit really just come out of my mouth?

She giggled, and her cheeks flushed pink. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. She had this sexy librarian vibe going and my fingers itched to get her out of that dress. Was she wearing plain cotton underneath or something lacy and hot as fuck? I’d never chased a woman before, but this little beauty was enough to knock me to my knees. Yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of…

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Honey.”

My eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Honeysuckle. My mother was a hippy.”

Oh yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of Honey.

“Jace,” I said, holding out my hand.

 

Get more Harley Wylde titles!

HarleyWylde

Harley is the international bestselling author of the Dixie Reapers and Devil’s Boneyard series.

When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

 

 

 

 

Born an Empty Soul by M.D. Stewart #PNR #UrbanFantasy #NewRelease #Rockstar #Vampires @changelingpress

Born an Empty Soul (Paranormal B&B 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press

Cover Artist: Angela Knight

 

Killian: I’m a well known singer in a famous indie band, but I’ve been alone for a century, living off others’ pain — until I meet my mates at a concert. Now I’ll have to do everything I can to convince them they are mine, or I’ll die.

Laura: Born and raised in Prenter’s Bottom, North Carolina, I watched the town wage war on homosexuality. As a straight white female, I’ve never been affected by their hatred — until I meet Killian. Now I’ll stand against the entire town — and my husband — to save him.

Barclay: I was raised in a strict religious household by emotionally detached parents. I thought being gay was a sin, until one night of shared passion with Killian and my wife. Now I’m struggling with my sexuality. I’m not sure I can go against the town even to save Killian — and my marriage.

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EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 M.D. Stewart

Killian

The sensation of crashing back into my body forced me to sit up and take a deep breath. I gasped and tried to slow down my jolting heart. It wasn’t unusual for me to suddenly return to my body once I’d fed. But this… This time it had been almost violent.

I threw back the covers and swung my bare legs to the floor, letting the cold hardwood hit my feet, grounding me. I had been on the mortal plane for generations, but I’m not human. Not completely anyway. I survive by feeding off others. Yeah, I know, it sounds parasitic. Which I guess is accurate.

I moved from the bed and crossed the room to the pack of cigarettes lying on the desk. Nasty habit, smoking — one I didn’t need or particularly like. Since it couldn’t kill me, I used it to bring me back to full awareness after I returned from my astral travels. The scent of sulfur almost overpowered the smell of lit tobacco, and I inhaled the menthol deep into my lungs. Sitting on the edge of the dresser, I took a few more drags of the cigarette before I reached over to turn on the lamp.

Even though I didn’t need the light to see, it showed that my red nail polish was starting to chip. Bollocks. I shrugged and took another inhale of the acrid smoke and held it in while I tried to remember every moment of this last feeding. But my thoughts always strayed back to my first memories of him.

It had been close to a year since I walked through a portal and spied the gorgeous man standing outside a large house. I’ve been around a long time, and I’ve seen many good-looking humans, but something about him drew me. The connection was instant, and I flew toward him, unable to stop the need in my soul to touch him.

Though he wore a suit, I could see the outline of his muscular form. His hair wasn’t red or brown, but a perfect mixture of the two. His full beard and intense caramel eyes begged me to touch him. And I wanted to. I was pure energy at that point, but once I brushed him, there was a rush through my soul like touching a live wire. I threw back my head and let myself feel his innermost needs. They filed against every jagged edge of my cursed being, smoothing me out and filling parts of me that were missing.

I attached to him, not wanting to let him go, picking up bits and pieces of his thoughts and memories. His energy felt so pure and substantial, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to disengage. I looked past him to the small outdoor building where two men kissed and ground against each another, and felt this man’s energy rise steadily. It was almost like taking a shot of tequila. I felt the warmth of his sexual desire spread through me. Awareness of his name seeped into my brain, along with the lust energy I siphoned. Barclay. I wanted to climb inside Barclay’s body and bathe in his essence, but my energy reserve was filling faster than I wanted. I knew I’d unlock when I was full, whether I wanted to or not.

The redhead we watched turned his green eyes toward us. Barclay’s instant shame at his voyeurism pushed me from his aura. The most interesting thing was that I wasn’t sent back to my corporeal form straight away. This hadn’t happened to me before, so I knew it was because he was mine.

Later, when my anima geminae, — soul twin — went back to the house to retrieve an item he’d forgotten, I felt the spike in his desire again and moved behind him to see the men he’d just been meeting with. They were having the hottest sex I’d seen in fucking decades. My energy reserves filled so quickly that I was jerked back to my body. The change was so abrupt that I felt like part of me had been ripped away and left with him. It hurt in so many ways.

I kept going back to him, though. Once I feed on someone, I usually go on to the next person. Sometimes I can stay with one person for multiple feedings, but only if they have the energy to spare.

 

Get more from M.D. Stewart at Changeling Press…

My vivid imagination combined with my love of reading and sci-fi. As a kid, I spent hours writing stories and poems while listening to my large collection of vinyl record albums.

My goal as an author is to tell stories that help others find enjoyment, or to escape life for a little while. I want the characters in my head to become as real to the reader as they are to me, and I hope they find another heart to settle into. I also want to interact with the people who read my books, because you never know where your next friend will come from.

Website: https://www.amazon.com/author/mdstewart

Blog: http://www.mdstew.art.blog

 

 

Can’t Get Enough by Harley Wylde #rockstar #RomanceBooks #newadult #NewRelease #preorder @HarleyW_Writer

CantGetEnoughCoverB

Publisher: JCS Books
Cover Artist: Jessica Smith
Genres/Themes: Rockstar, New Adult, Erotic
Release Date: December 18, 2018

JACE

When Sinful Seduction made it big, my life changed, and not always in awesome ways. The groupies were great at first, until one decided to fake a pregnancy and claim the kid was mine. My bandmates had my back, and while the woman backed down fast when I demanded a paternity test, it still shook me. I knew it was time for another change, one where I kept my pants zipped. And then I saw her across the bar… the goddess with golden waves, and her sexy little librarian outfit. I knew she was different, and I wanted to make her mine. Should have known better than to get drunk in Vegas. You know how they say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Bullshit. Total and complete bullshit. But maybe this time my mistake will turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

HONEY

I dumped my cheating fiancée, hopped a plane to Vegas, and hit the latest writer’s convention. On what should have been my wedding day, I was throwing back drinks like they were fruit punch. To be fair, they probably had fruit punch in them. When I woke up the next morning with a hard body pressed to mine, and a silver band on a very important finger, I thought I’d screwed up more than ever before. Imagine my surprise when the wannabe rocker I married turned out to be even more famous than me — and wait for it — he wanted to stay married! Even with a battered heart, I still believed in happily-ever-after, but what could a rock star and a romance author have in common?

Chemistry… Intense, curl your toes, melt your panties chemistry. Relationships have been based on worse, right?

*WARNING: If you don’t like foul-mouthed bad boys, lots of hot sex, and an accidental marriage, then you should probably skip this book.

Available at Bookstrand, AmazonB&N Kobo, and iTunes
Releasing December 18th

Excerpt

(c) 2018, Harley Wylde
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

JACE

I stared into the crowd, their faces and writhing bodies a blur under the multi-hued lights. Sweat rolled down my temples and my spine as the lyrics poured out of me, more out of habit than passion. Fierce Seduction had been at the top of the charts for the past year as we’d toured the country. My fingers flew over the strings of my guitar, the riffs to the songs coming as easy as the women screaming my name. I couldn’t look at them without seeing her face, the stupid cunt who thought she was going to catch herself a one-way ticket to stardom.

It had been the week from hell. A groupie I’d fucked nearly a damn year ago contacted my manager, threatening to go public if I didn’t pay her a million dollars to keep quiet. She claimed the baby she’d had two weeks before was my son, but I knew better. I was super fucking cautious when it came to fucking the whores who threw themselves at me. I not only wore a condom, but I usually pulled out too. No way in hell I was getting trapped by some gold-digging bitch.

Fuck. Would this concert never end? We were playing Vegas, and the venue was sold out. It was our last show before heading home on Monday. The band had agreed we’d play Friday night, then fuck around for two days on the strip before flying back to L.A. Best fucking idea ever. I wasn’t big into gambling, but the bar at the Bellagio was calling my name. I was certain they had several bottles of vodka with my name on them. I just hadn’t decided if I was celebrating the fact that the kid wasn’t mine or trying to drown myself over the fuckery that was my life. When you’d fucked enough women that they all blurred together, and your reputation was so tattered those same women thought they could blackmail you, then maybe it was time to get off the merry-go-round.

The last few bars of the song played out, our final for this show, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell off the stage. The fans screamed and catcalled, all of them wanting a piece of us. It had been a thrill a minute when the stardom had first hit. I couldn’t believe how lucky we’d been, or that we were finally riding the top of the charts. There was this huge rush when we took the stage, or when some hot college girl tossed her panties at me, or better yet, informed me she wasn’t wearing any. I’d definitely earned my reputation as a panty dropper. I’d been proud as hell of the way women fawned all over me, until that wake-up call last week. Nothing can kill your buzz quicker than some chick claiming she got knocked up with your kid, some faceless stranger you fucked and forgot. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d ever learned her name before bending her over.

Backstage, I snagged a bottle of water and guzzled the entire damn thing. Tossing it into the trash, I braced myself for what came next. The adoring fans who had backstage passes. A VIP room had been set up for the occasion, and I knew those women only wanted one thing. To lay claim to one of us for the night, hell, even for an hour.

“You in a hurry to get your dick wet?” Simon asked with a leer. “A room full of free pussy, and it’s all ours for the taking.”

“I’m signing some autographs then I’m getting the fuck out of here,” I said as I stormed down the hallways toward a fate worse than death.

“Since when do you turn away free pussy?”

“Since Rochelle.” I’d tried not to utter that cunt’s name, but it was ingrained in my memory ever since I’d gotten the letter from her attorney.

Simon winced. “That was some rotten luck, but it all worked out. You demanded that paternity test and proved her to be the fucking liar that she is. You’re not going to let one woman fuck with your head like that, are you?”

I shrugged and pushed through the doors to the VIP room. The squeals and shrieks assaulted my ears as about six pairs of hands reached for me. Revulsion rolled through me as I looked at their too-heavy makeup and skin tight clothes. Why had I ever been attracted to women like these? They were desperate and didn’t care who they hurt, as long as they got what they wanted. Me.

Signing whatever they thrust my way—paper, water bottles, boobs—I finally made my way through the crowd and out the doors on the opposite side. When I rushed outside of the venue, I ignored the screaming fans, trusting that security would keep them off my back while I disappeared into the night. I took several detours, making sure I wasn’t followed, and finally arrived at the Bellagio. I’d stayed here before when I wasn’t touring with the band, and as I stepped inside, it felt like the building was welcoming me back. The place was packed, but I managed to find a spot at the end of the bar. Hopefully out of sight of everyone but the bartender.

I motioned for him to come over and ordered six shots of vodka. They burned on the way down as I slammed one after another. It would take a hell of a lot more to get me shitfaced, but it was a decent start. The next hour blurred as I downed everything from vodka to whiskey to Jagermeister.  I felt warm, and loose, and completely blissed out by the time I noticed her.

My eyes took in the neat updo and the prim glasses perched on her nose. The way she sipped at the fruity drink in front of her made me think this wasn’t her usual scene. The dress she had on was sexy yet sedate. Fuck if she didn’t make me burn hotter than the god damn sun. Her lips, a succulent berry color, fit around the straw of her red drink, and I watched as her gaze flitted around the room. The jackass next to her was so fucking drunk he nearly knocked her off the barstool twice, earning the creep a glare that would have made a cross nun proud. I half expected her to whip out a ruler and rap his knuckles with it.

Whoever this angel was, I knew I wanted to find out more about her, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to do that sitting way over here. I shouldered my way through the crowd and shoved the drunk off his stool before claiming it for myself. She blinked up at me in surprise, the blue depths of her eyes pulling me in. The angel licked her lips as she leaned a little closer.

Holy Hell.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a slight slur to her words. Just how many of those drinks had she had?

“I won’t knock you off your stool, but I can’t promise I won’t sweep you off your feet.”

What. The. Fuck. Did that shit really just come out of my mouth?

She giggled, and her cheeks flushed pink. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. She had this sexy librarian vibe going and my fingers itched to get her out of that dress. Was she wearing plain cotton underneath or something lacy and hot as fuck? I’d never chased a woman before, but this little beauty was enough to knock me to my knees. Yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of…

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Honey.”

My eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Honeysuckle. My mother was a hippy.”

Oh yeah, I’d gladly worship at the altar of Honey.

“Jace,” I said, holding out my hand.

 

About Harley

International Bestselling Author.
When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Visit Harley on her website, or you can follow her on BookBub or Amazon!