Fall in love with the Rock Stars who write and sing the music as well as the women who long to tame them.
With stories by Nikki Lynn Barrett, Lisa Kumar, Krista Ames, Viviana Mackade, RM Duffy and D'Ann Lindun.
Free with Kindle Unlimited or 99 cents!
He’s impulsive, fearless, and fun loving.
Erik Axelsson, Ax, had it all: talent, fame, money. He’d lived the rock & roll life fully and with gusto until it wasn’t fun anymore. Without a second thought, he’d traded the spotlight with the Floridian sun, and the guitar with a surfboard. Young, rich, and free from anything - what more he could need?
She’s innocent, scared, and in trouble.
Andrea Smith escaped the life imposed to her when her parents joined a cult. After years on the run, hunger pushed her to accept a stranger’s offer for breakfast. She had no clue her life changed with that simple ‘yes’.
But the past catches up with her, forcing Andrea to choose what person she wants to be: the scared cult member that obeyed in silence, or the new woman Erik made blossom.
She had no clue her life changed with that simple ‘yes’
Erik brushed his palm on his prickling shoulders as the angry sun hit, leaving only salt where ocean drops had been a few minutes before. He revered in that roasting pleasure, in the blues of the sky and water surrounding him. Entertained by his unplanned guest, he pulled his dripping hair into a messy bun.
It had been a good day for surfing, with waves still crashing on the shoreline. The rumble must have hidden the croaky zip of the tent’s zipper because when he looked down at the entrance, he found two huge brown eyes staring at him.
The echo of lifetimes ago, distant, feeble, poked at him. The feeling dwelling into his heart after his parents had died, now lingered on her delicate features. Fear.
The girl took a breath, clenched her teeth and crawled out. She rose on all of her five feet five or so. “Who–” she cleared her throat. “Who are you?”
Wasn’t that a question he wasn’t used to? Everybody knew Ax and the Hurricanes. He’d spent ten years of his life on everybody’s mouth, eyes and above all, ears. Newspapers. TV. Concerts. Surprise for the question shadowed the male appreciation of the woman in front of him. For now. He’ll so be back at that.
“I think the question is, who are you?” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Well, camper, your tent is on my property, in case you missed that,” he said pointing at the Private Property notice on the berm not far from her den. He had to invest some money into a proper sign, he thought when he eyed the rusty, barely visible sign. “My house’s back there, anyway.”
She turned around, took those details in. “Oh.”
Erik used that time to make some math. A girl, alone, in an old tent. The black bag he’d peeked to with clothes in it. That look in her eyes. He sighed. “You hungry?”
He took his surfboard and turned to go. “What?” he asked when she didn’t move.
“I–I don’t know you.”
Yeah, okay, back to that. She either had lived on the moon for the past fifteen years or was bullshitting him. He would give her the benefit of the doubt because she was hot, and keep Sheriff Charlie on speed dial for a while. He turned around. “I’m Erik Axelsson.”
He waited for his name to dawn on her. Nothing. Seriously?
“I’m Andrea Smith.”
“All right, Andrea Smith. I’m hungry, covered in sand, and the sun is cooking my brain. I’m going in, you do as you please.”