Tuesday, 20 February 2018
Release Day (+ Excerpt & Author Giveaway): Rock King by Tara Leigh
Fans of Kristen Callihan and Kylie Scott will scream for this sizzling bad boy rock star romance!
I'm not who you think I am. Shane Hawthorne has it all. At least, that's what the headlines say about me. I have millions of fans, awards, more money - and women - than I know what to do with. But what you don't see is the wreckage I've caused. The memories and pain I can't escape, even when I pour them into music and spin them into gold.
I tried to forget. To lose myself in booze and groupies. It didn't work. It hurt me and - worse - it hurt my band. That's the last thing I want to do, so I'm cleaning up my act... starting with Delaney Fraser.
Gorgeous, smart, drama-free, and even nice - Delaney is the perfect "girlfriend." When I'm with her I don't have to pretend. It's like she sees the real me. And I can see a future with her. But that's dangerous. Because the truth is, Shane Hawthorne doesn't actually exist. He's a shield to hide who I really am. Fraud. Runaway. Addict. Murderer. And it's impossible to love a lie, right?
“Delaney.” I groaned her name. Running my nose along the elegant sweep of her cheekbone, I breathed in the desire rising from her skin like fog off the morning tide. My palms skimmed over her rib cage, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her pants. Finding a satiny sliver of skin. And a set of keys.
Leaning back, I dangled them between us. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Eyes that had been as soft and smooth as sea glass blinked into focus, narrowing at their corners. “You really have a one-track mind.” Disappointment trekked across her features.
I slapped away the impulse to explain why—that if I didn’t stay focused on the easy, the attainable, I’d be dragged down by my inner demons so fast, running away would be like trying to sprint in quicksand, each panicked step making me sink deeper. “Doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
“Maybe not for you.” Delaney reclaimed her keys, ducking away from me. Grabbing for the door handle, she gave it a firm twist. It squeaked open, sounding mournful and sad. Sounding like an ending. “But the track I’m on doesn’t leave room for middle-of-the-night booty calls with a guy who can’t even be bothered to tell me what he thought of the three minutes I spent onstage—for him. Good night, Shane. Save your voice for someone still willing to listen.”
And then she was gone. Leaving me with only the memory of her bewitching smile and pure voice. And a knot of remorse sitting heavily in my chest, leaching toxins into my bloodstream with each dull, disappointed thud of my heart.
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