Rockin' the Heart
by Gracen Miller
BLURB:
If
music nourishes the soul…
Loved by millions, but shunned by blood, Heath “Fang” Fangor has
led his band, Hot Wired, to the top while others have fallen by the wayside. He
devoted his life to music, and from that devotion harvested a new family—his
band mates and fans.
A
man can desire nothing else…or can he?
Living in the shadow of her brother’s fame sucks! Sam Collins is
desperate to have what she wants—a simple and uncomplicated life. She’s no
stranger to scandals and how they work. Now that she’s inadvertently dragged
Fang into the center of her latest gossip, could the scandal she created in her
quest for freedom have gone too far?
Amid
stardom the heart stages a new melody…
Fang has more fame and fortune than he will ever need, but none
of that matters if he can’t have the woman of his dreams. Years have been
wasted waiting for the right moment to approach the woman his heart desires
above all others. There’s just one major problem...she’s his best friend’s
sister. To have her, he will have to risk it all.
One
that might be responsible for Rockin the Heart!
EXCERPT:
Chapter
One
Heath
was a rock star god. The tight lines fanning outward from his silver eyes
classified him as a pissed off rock star god.
“Wanna
tell me what you did this time to get the platinum treatment?” He indicated the
jail cell, while ramming his fingers through his shaggy, jet-black hair.
Preferring
to shrink into the shadows and avoid a confrontation with him, Sam took a deep
breath and rose from the bench. She stepped away from the metal seat to draw
closer to the bars dividing them.
She’d
expected her brother, Jason—Jase—to ride to her rescue. Like always. Her
foundation. Predictable. Dependable. Rattled by her sibling’s abandonment, she
ogled the skull on Heath’s shirt, mortification overwhelming her.
If Heath
was Jase’s replacement, then he’d been serious when he said ‘don’t call me the
next time you’re arrested.’ She’d assumed he yelled that in anger. She was
surprised he’d bothered to offer aid at all.
Gut
hollow at her brother’s desertion, she cleared the ache out of her throat and
asked, “Can’t you just bail me out and we’ll forget this ever happened?”
Knowing
he wouldn’t go for that suggestion, Sam swallowed hard and shuffled her feet.
Disappointing Jase was one thing, but letting Heath down was an entirely
different matter. She’d crushed on the man since her tenth birthday when he’d
given her a heart-shaped jewelry box. Didn’t matter he’d been too old for her
at a mature fourteen. That infatuation hadn’t waned with age either, but only
grown stronger. Not that he showed her a stitch of interest. To him, she was
nothing more complicated than a kid sister.
His
digits curled around one of the bars. The tattoo lettering on his left knuckles
fit his current disposition—ired. On
the other hand the letters H-O-T-W graced his knuckles. If read together, they
spelled out the name of his band: Hot Wired.
“Not
this time, Samantha.”
She
cringed. The only time he broke out her full name was when he was upset or
disappointed with her.
“You
been drinking?”
“You
know I haven’t.” Just shy of twenty-one, in her world getting liquor wasn’t an
issue. Neither was alcohol her preferred drug of choice.
“Drugs?”
She
rolled her eyes, the question too stupid to warrant a response.
“This
type of publicity is bad news for the band.” She’d heard that one before. None
of her recklessness damaged Hot Wired’s career. Not that she sought to hinder
their mega stardom. She wasn’t that selfish, she just struggled with controlling
her impulses on occasion.
Therapy
failed to help. Yelling spawned further rebellion.
Living
under the umbrella of the band’s fame grew tiresome. Her life should be her
own, to live however she pleased. Weary of the media hounding her, she craved going
back to a time when nobody knew her name. A normal life like when she’d been a
kid.
She’d
grown up on daydreams of the band making it to the big times. They won the
lottery of recording deals, while Sam discovered stardom came at a high price.
Along with that knowledge came the freebie of all lessons…fantasies were often
better than reality. The last time she’d visited the mall without a trail of
vipers eager to report her purchases she’d been fifteen.
Sheesh!
Was it
too much to ask to have a date the world didn’t scrutinize? Even the loss of
her virginity made headline news. That act should’ve come with the expectation
of privacy. Thanks to the tabloids, Jase almost burst a blood vessel over that
exploitation.
Once
she’d picked her nose in public on purpose because a rag-reporter stalked her.
Scratched her butt on another occasion. Gave them something to write. Those
were the photographs and articles that gave her incentive to laugh.
“The
only reason they’re not pressing charges is because of Jase.”
“Thanks
for the reminder.” Along with it came the reminder that her brother sent Heath
instead of coming himself.
Despite
the news-hounds, she got out of a lot of shit thanks to her brother’s identity.
This incident would be all over the rags and Internet before morning.
‘Hot Wired’s drummer’s sister
is at it again!’ They’d
go on to paint her wild and immoral comportment.
Have at it you fucks. Can’t
hurt me any more than you already have, but what about the band?
Distance
from Hot Wired would aid all of them. She’d get her peace of mind back, and
they’d be devoid of the rebel-rouser in their group.
She’d
mentioned changing her last name and moving back to their Southern roots in the
small Alabama town where she’d been born. Jase had gone bat-shit crazy at the
suggestion and went on and on about how their parents would be rolling over in
their grave at her abandoning the family name.
The
name-change idea had been discarded. Swept under the rug like a dust bunny
never to be spoken of again.
Torn
between two worlds, Sam was suffocating. Living with someone she couldn’t have
in a world where she didn’t belong.
She sank
back down onto the bench and lay down on the uncomfortable metal, staring at
the ceiling. “Go away, Heath. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”
A sigh
came from him, followed by a long pause. She anticipated he’d argue, but she
focused on the water spot marring the tiled ceiling and prepared herself to
fight back.
The
sound of his retreating boots hitting concrete echoed in the room. His exit
surprised her, but relieved her too. Faced with his disappointment, she vowed again she’d terminate her criminal
behavior.
She
settled the backside of her wrist against her forehead. She made that promise
to herself often and botched the good intentions each time.
After a
moment, a new set of footsteps approached the cell. Even with her eyes closed
she determined the intruder wasn’t Heath. In a room full of guests, she could
identify his gait. Heath’s solid steps and long stride made for a unique
swagger that bespoke his self-confidence. Celebrated his rocker status.
Watching him walk compared to admiring art. Ogling his ass as he strode
away…eye-gasms.
This
individual’s fast-paced walk reminded her of the peppered rounds of gunfire.
She waited for the person to speak. The clink of metal striking metal and locks
disengaging snagged her attention. She turned her head. The thirty-something
deputy swung the cell-door open. “You’re free to go, Ms. Collins.”
Sam
rolled off the bench and grinned at the officer as she sidled past him. She’d
bragged as they booked her that they wouldn’t hold her long and the charges
wouldn’t stick.
In the
lobby, Heath waited for her with his hands shoved in his jeans pocket. His
shaggy-butchered hair shadowed his eyes, doing a good job of hiding his
expression, but the hard line of his jaw indicated he’d married his irritation.
Lectures were sure to come.
Looking
at him, no one would guess he rocked the panties off chicks worldwide. With his
long-sleeved, pull-over black shirt, sporting a white skull, his snug well-worn
jeans and scuffed boots, he appeared as average as any hard American worker.
That’s what I need to warm my
cold bed. Average. Not my brother’s best friend and
rock star god.
There
was nothing average about Heath Fangor—Fang to his band mates and the world.
Neither would he seduce her. Not even as a one-time gig. The man and his fucked
up principals…or maybe they were her
fucked up principals because she couldn’t say for sure if she’d enter into a
one-night-stand with him if he begged for one. She wanted more, and a
one-nighter would be difficult to live with.
“Thanks
for the bail out, Fang.” She breezed
past him with all intention of snubbing him, but he caught her arm. He held on
tight, giving her a warning glare when she tried to jerk free.
“Don’t
be ungrateful, brat.” He towed her toward the elevator.
“Thanks
for the autograph, Fang!” She glanced back at the deputy who’d released her
from the cell. He waved a piece of paper at them, grinning ear-to-ear.
Heath
shoved her into the lift. The moment the doors shut, he slammed his palms down
on either side of her head. Sam sucked in a breath, her eyes frozen on his
sexy-ass mouth. The bottom lip was slightly puffier than the top, nice and
pink, and wet. He’d probably licked them, which explained the sheen. She had
naughty fantasies with them as the star of the show navigating her body. The
damage she suspected they could accomplish created a slippery situation in her
panties.
A slight
tilt of his lips before he said, “Eyes on mine.”
She
refocused and locked onto his silver gaze. The accusations she saw there struck
her like a blow to the gut. Looking away would be easier, but Heath had a way
of holding her to a higher level with just a penetrating stare. His
expectations were tall, and she despised him for having such grand aspirations
for her.
“What’s
gotten into you? Base diving—”
“That
was fun. You should try it.”
“—bar
brawls, knifing chicks in Miami—”
“Hey! I
was found innocent of that allegation!”
Elevating
his eyebrows, he called her statement a lie without uttering a word.
“—and
now you’re adding grand theft auto to
your long list of offenses.”
Buy Links:
Amazon
About the Author:
Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a “normal” person in
southern society. When not writing, she’s a full-time
basketball/football/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her
real-life hero-husband. She has an unusual relationship with her muse, Dom, but
credits all her creative success to his brilliant mind. She’s addicted to
writing, paranormal romance novels and movies, Alabama football and
coffee...addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She’s convinced
coffee is nectar from the gods and when blending coffee and writing together it
generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are spawned
from coffee highs and Dom’s aggressive demands.
Where
you can stalk me—not really!—but I do love to meet and interact with readers:
Twitter:
@GracenMiller
Thank you for spotlighting my book! I appreciate you being a part of this tour.
ReplyDeleteHuggles,
Gracen