We are getting an all-new standalone rockstar romance from author Lauren Rowe, and I have a sneak peek for you. This is the love story of Dax Morgan and the electrifying woman who rocked his world during his journey to worldwide rock superstardom.
Excerpt
“This sounds serious, son.”
“Meh. I’ve got no time for serious. In three days, I’ll be sitting on a plane headed for London. The only thing I’ve got time for tonight is a drive-by dabble, followed by a heartbreaking ‘we’ll always have L.A.!’ goodbye.”
“Just as long as you vet her properly.” Fish pulls a snarky face, letting me know he still thinks my “vetting” comment from earlier was just plain stupid.
Rolling my eyes at Fish’s dry facial expression, I return my attention to my muse, just in time to see Reed Rivers, accompanied by a buddy, both of them dressed in designer suits, approaching my girl’s blonde friend.
I sit forward on the couch, staring as Reed gives the blonde a polite hug. When he disengages from her, I hold my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But to my relief, Reed doesn’t hug my girl. He only smiles briefly at her.
I’m surmising introductions are being made, although in what combination I’m not sure. If I had to guess, Reed is introducing the blonde to his buddy. The blonde is introducing Reed to her friend. After brief conversation between the foursome, Reed’s buddy and the blonde take off for the dance floor, leaving my muse standing alone at the edge of the dance floor… with Reed fucking Rivers.
Shit.
My heart rate instantly spikes. This feels like a catastrophe waiting to happen. Did I sit here on this couch, getting a psychic hand job from those goddamned lyrics, one minute too long?
Reed says something to my muse that makes her smile. She says something that makes him chuckle. But, thank God, after not too long, Reed motions over his shoulder like, Sorry, I’ve gotta go, and she motions like, Yeah, no problem. And off Reed goes, causing every cell in my body to shudder and buck with relief.
The minute Reed disappears into the crowd, my girl jolts me by turning her head and looking straight at me again. She flashes me a pointed look—a come-hither glare filled with such heat—such impatience—my dick begins thickening in response. Holy shit! She’s looking at me like it’s already a given that she’s mine and I’m hers and I’ve let this ridiculousness go on long enough. Ha! I think I’m in love. No shrinking violet, indeed.
I flash her a look that says, Okay, okay, I’m on my way, honey. And she replies with an adorable expression that says, Well, it’s about fucking time.