Rock star lovers, rejoice! Not only do we have a brand new bad-boy book to indulge in (“Three Nights with a Rock Star“), but it’s from an author that I love! Plus… this one appears to be SMOKING HOT!!! And… I have an exclusive bonus scene!
What’s the book about?
When Hailey crashes a Half-Life after party, she expects to find the bastard who knocked up her little sister. Instead she meets the sexy front-man who agrees to give her access to his crew if she gives him access to her body.
All Lock demands in return is three days of complete control over the Sunday School teacher. With a contract, because he’s been burned before. One misstep could send the band–and his tenuous sobriety–up in flames.
Hailey and Lock push each other’s limits… Against the penthouse window. Backstage. In the limo and on the elevator. But as the contract counts down, neither are ready for the party to end.
Ready for that bonus scene? I don’t think this one spoils anything, ’cause, you know. The blurb pretty much says this type of thing is gonna go on. *waggles eyebrows*. But I think it does give us a nice… taste. 😉
Bonus Scene (and beware… it is steamy):
Hailey walked down the lighted stairs, waiting for someone to tell her No. Stop. You aren’t allowed to be here. She felt like an imposter as she selected a row at random and sank into the first velvety seat.
Tickets were two hundred bucks a pop. Shady-looking guys outside were already pushing scalped tickets for twice that. Seats curved all the way to the other side of the concert hall. The whole thing must be worth… She tried to do the math and her brain shorted out.
More money than she’d ever see. That was the answer, because she didn’t really belong. The VIP lanyard hanging from her neck said otherwise. It let her go backstage. It gave her full access, just like Lock had promised her. And she’d given him full access to her body, just like she’d promised him.
In a few hours, this place would be teaming with fans. Right now the massive building was quiet, holding its breath. Every sound she made was muted, soaked right into the carpet and metal and plastic, while the working of the road crew onstage sounded close enough to touch.
“Killer acoustics,” the guy adjusting the mic muttered, and the softly spoken words reached all the way through the cavernous room. His partner said something about the band being late for sound check, and the mic caught that too.
Late. Was that her fault?
She’d tried not to distract Lock back at the hotel so he could focus on his show, but she’d had to shower. He must have heard the water from the penthouse living room. He’d joined her in the spacious bathroom, and though she’d protested, they both knew she hadn’t meant it.
“Put your hands on the wall,” he’d said, while his hands were slick and firm on her hips.
She burned under the warm spray and the heat of him at her back. Her heart pounded with arousal and excitement and a hint of fear. She wanted more. She wanted to feel afraid. Her hands clenched into fists against the tile. “I don’t understand, Officer. I was under the speed limit.”
He chuckled darkly at the new game. “I’ll have to search your vehicle. And your person.”
A moan escaped, and she hoped it sounded like refusal. “I’m not hiding anything.” He touched her; he probed her. He shoved his fingers deep inside her and sought that secret place until he’d proven her wrong, again and again. And only when she was limp and panting against the shower wall did he pull her hands behind her back and whisper her rights.
Hailey shifted in the seat, sinking a little lower. A flush had spread over her breasts and to her cheeks. No one was looking at her, no one was even here, but she felt exposed just the same.
Footsteps rang out as the band got onstage. Even relaxed, tuning with their instruments, their energy and charisma reached across the air and wrapped around her. They made her want to stand, to raise a lighter—or an iPhone—into the darkness, and sway with the crowd. Lock had changed since they’d parted. No, he’d added things. Chains around his neck and leather wrapped around his forearm. His hair was spiky and his features looked more pronounced, even from afar. Stage makeup?
He picked up his cherry red guitar and took his place behind the mic. More armor. He’d been building his defenses while she’d let hers crumble without regret. But where did that leave her? He was ten feet above her, onstage, the spotlight trained on him, while she was just another girl in a ghostly crowd.
How could she matter to him? She couldn’t, she couldn’t. They were destined to end, doomed from the start. Contractually obligated to split up.
He turned his head and murmured to the roadie next to him, but she heard him loud and clear. “Sorry we’re late. Got caught speeding.”
But the limo ride over had been uneventful, and she knew he was talking to her. And then it didn’t hurt as much. Something in her eased. She did fit, with him. Beneath all that rock star armor was a place for her.
At least for the next two nights.