Title: One Kiss with a Rock Star
(Half-Life #2)
Authors: Amber Lin, Shari Slade
Date of Publication: November 6th 2014
Half-Life bassist KristMellas is
caught in a PR nightmare after his dirty sex video blew up online. His agent
has the solution: a fake engagement with sultry pop princess Madeline Fox.
Krist can’t think of anything worse than a charade with the bubblegum
bombshell…except losing the band.
Madeline knows better than anyone
what it means to live a lie in the spotlight. She’s determined to help Krist
without ever letting him find out what it costs her—or about her girlhood crush
on him. But after a smoking hot back alley encounter with him leaves her
breathless, she can’t deny she wants the snarling bad-boy rocker.
In a world of glitter and
diamonds where the kisses are fake but the climaxes are real, their facades
start to crack. And the publicity storm may shatter them both.
WARNING: This book contains a
scorching threesome, a dirty talking pop princess, and a surly rocker who hits
all the right notes.
Buy the Book!
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1yZUOMG
Book One in the Half-Life Series
Three
Nights with a Rock Star (Half-Life #1)
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.
What
people are saying about Three Nights with
a Rock Star
“This book will ROCK YOUR SOCKS
RIGHT OFF!” – Red’s Hot Reads
“Three Nights with a Rock Star has
the love story, the push you up against a door sex, and the holy hell I can’t believe
they’re doing that ménage sex, but it also has the sweetness of family and the
heartbreak of possible betrayals, broken friendships, and leaked sex tapes. I
cannot wait to read Krist’s story, One Kiss with a Rock Star!” –Hines
and Bingam’s Literary Tryst
“The chemistry between Lock and
Hailey is blistering. Sparks flew the first time they saw each other. It was
nice to see that both main characters had issues to work through to be able to
maintain a relationship between them.” – Cocktails and Books
“Three Nights With A Rock Star was
right up my ally, I loved every minute of it! From the sexy lead singer Lock,
to the cute mousy Hailey. I’m more than looking forward to the next book One
Kiss with a Rock Star.” – Books Unhinged
BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/three-nights-with-a-rock-star-amber-lin/1119631993?ean=9781499719574
About the Authors
Amber Lin writes erotic romance
with damaged souls and deep emotion.
Her debut novel, Giving It Up,
received The Romance Review’s Top Pick, Night Owl Top Pick, and 5 Blue Ribbons
from Romance Junkies. RT Book Reviews gave it 4.5 stars, calling it “truly
extraordinary.” She has been published by Loose Id, Carina Press, and
Entangled.
Amber married her high school
sweetheart, birthed a kid who’s smarter than she is, and spends her nights
writing down her dirty thoughts. In other words, life is good.
Shari Slade is a snarky optimist. A would-be academic with big dreams
and very little means. When she isn’t toiling away in the non-profit sector,
she’s writing gritty stories about identity and people who make terrible
choices in the name of love (or lust). Somehow, it all works out in the end. If
she had a patronus it would be a platypus.
Excerpts:
Excerpt #1
There was a moment, after the makeup artist and hair stylist
had gone, before the choreographer and director had arrived, that Madeline was
alone. The silence disoriented her, making her pulse heavy.
It was like stepping off a carousel, unsteady on her feet
and squinting into the sun. Though in her case, she was unsteady on four-inch
heels and blinking at fashion lights lining the wall. Her short puffs of breath
expanded to fill the empty dressing room. Every piece of clothing that had been
specially crafted and fitted to her body suddenly tugged and scratched and
pinched.
The door slammed open—no knock—and her choreographer stood
there. Just like that, the off-kilter moment was over, banished to the Island
of Misfit Memories. She was Madeline Fox again, back in her groove. Adequate
singer. Dazzling performer. She was a goddamn pop princess—and princesses never
had to be alone.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Jimmy said in his customary affected
voice. “You look fabulous.”
Doing a little circle to show off her costume, she preened.
Literally preened since she had feathers glued onto her arms. “Are you sure I
don’t look a little…avian?”
“Please. No one will be looking at your arms in that glitter
bra. Every boy in the audience will have a hard-on the size of Texas.”
Madeline rolled her eyes. Jimmy had been saying that to her
since she was fifteen. He got away with it because he pretended to be gay. A
requirement for being successful in this business, or so he’d told her in a
rare moment of seriousness.
“Come on, sweetie. Your devil awaits you.”
She clapped her hands together, barely holding in her squee.
She hadn’t been sure Krist would come. Even though he owed her. Even though
she’d sent their mutual agent to ensure that extra push. “Ward came through for
me?”
Right on cue, Ward entered stage right.Alex Ward had a man’s
name and the personality of a shark. In short, she was the perfect agent. “I
always come through for you. You’re the best, and you deserve the best.”
“Aww, I bet you say that to all the multiplatinum artists.”
Ward didn’t deny it. But then, she might not have heard. She
was currently speaking into her Bluetooth while tapping the tablet propped over
her arm.
The important thing was Madeline would get to see Krist
today. She’d get to kiss him. And now
she was nervous.
She was never nervous.
The spicy scent of warm chai hit her like an orgasm.
“Fuuuuck. Someone is about to be my best friend.”
A latte cup was lifted from behind Jimmy’s head. Her
assistant. God bless assistants, really. Especially this one, who’d brought her
chai. Piper? Penelope? Was it a boy or a girl? Not that it mattered. Madeline
swung both ways.
But before she could grab hold of the cup, her voice coach
was there with her endless litany of rules and regulations. No smoking. No drinking.
No deep throating. Blah blahblah. And definitely no chai before a performance.
“Hey,” Madeline said, pouting. “I’m not even going to be singing.”
Her agent glanced over. “Oh, we changed that. We want some
vocals off the main track for a director’s cut. That one’s going on YouTube.”
Jimmy winked. “A little improv goes a long way.”
All righty, so she would sing. In front of KristMellas,
bass player and vocalist for Half-Life. Her stomach turned over as she
grabbed the chai and took a drink. It wasn’t spiked, so the assistant
whoever-the-fuck was clearly still in training mode. Big girls got a shot with
their latte, and Madeline had been a big girl since she turned fourteen on the
set of KidMania five years ago.
The sea of people pushed her along.
No one specifically told her to move. No one asked. They
just moved, and she had no choice but to move with them. She didn’t want a
choice. This was easy. This was mindless. Swivel your hips and sing until it
hurts.
This was her life.
From ONE KISS WITH A
ROCK STAR by Amber Lin and Shari Slade
Excerpt #2
Watch the wings.
He couldn't miss them. She was naked but for feathers and
glitter. Untouchable. Two grips ushered her along the catwalk and affixed her
harness to a rig in the rafters. Krist was only a few feet off the ground on
his platform, but he still felt unsteady. She was so high.
An assistant counted down, and the director shouted, “Action!”
The army of dancers below writhed to the thumping bass line
of the guide track, feet pounding the floor, but Krist only had eyes for
Madeline. She lifted her arms above her head like the ballerina in alittle
girl’s jewelry box, stepped off the ledge, and twirled down, singing.
“I break my own wings.”
The power in her vocals, the edge behind the lyric, knocked
him more off balance. He'd expected her to lip sync. He'd expected her to
fucking suck.
“I am falling. I am falling. Lift me up.”
All the dancers below lifted their hands in unison and
swayed like the collective force of their will would boost her higher. Cheesy
pop bullshit, but something about it worked. He didn’t want to admit it, but
she had…something. She could fucking
sing.
Her descent slowed. If he stretched, he could just reach her
perfectly manicured toe. Almost time.
His whole body tensed as a camera swung in his direction. He
grimaced and gripped the railing when the platform beneath him, mounted on what
looked like a cherry-picker truck, shifted closer to Madeline.The cameraman
gave him a thumbs-up. He must look sufficiently demonic.
Now. He reached for her, grabbing her by the waist,
the only part of her body unadorned, and pulled her close. One breath and he
was overcome by her scent. Spicy cotton candy. Unexpected and strangely
perfect. A second breath and he prepared to do his damned job, to mash his lips
against hers and fling her back to her adoring throng. It was only skin. It
didn’t mean anything.
Her eyes flashed mischief. Hi, she mouthed and hooked
her legs around his hips.
He froze. The producer hadn’t mentioned grinding in the
rundown earlier. She shimmied against him, and his traitorous cock
responded. Do the job you came to do.
Before he could, she bent her head and stole the kiss he’d
been hired to deliver.He couldn't help but gasp, and then her tongue, warm and
electric, invaded his mouth. Chai.
Could an angel corrupt a devil?
“I am falling. I am falling.”The guide track looped in the
background, distorted by Auto-Tune, hardly recognizable as the sultry voice
he'd just heard.
It was too much.The wet heat, her teeth grazing his bottom
lip, and the way she rocked against his crotch. It hurt to touch her, just like the devil was supposed to
react. He pushed, but she only held on tighter, digging her heels into his ass,
twisting his hair in her fingers. Sparks of pleasure-pain skittered under his
skin. She’dchosen him.
He didn’t want to want her. Wanting was a one-way ticket to
disappointment.
She raked her fingers down his back, teasing the sliver of
skin between his shirt and belt, and pressed her mouth to his ear. He shivered.
“Work with me.” She nipped him.
He could work. And if his body responded? Well, it was only
biology. The hard-on straining against his zipper was as manufactured and
packaged as the Dream Angel in his arms.
He lost himself in the pull and sway, forgot the crowd of
people, the camera, the job. Forgot everything but the taste of her, the feel
of her tight muscles under his palms, the tickle of feathers floating
free.
He kissed her back, violent and hard, reclaiming what she'd
taken:his choice. Her body softened, melted around him. She moaned, giving in,
an unexpected surrender. He hadn’t missed the power she wielded over the whole
production, a queen bee to her hive. But here she was gasping and shuddering in
his arms, the rapid pulse against his chest like wings beating against glass.
He ran his tongue along hers, savoring the honey and spice.
A sound came from the sides, an urgent whisper. They wanted
him to stop. He even felt her lurch away, tugged by mechanical means, but he
held tighter. They’d have to tear her away. They’d have to hurt her to do it.
For one brief moment, he wasn’t letting go. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth. Heat
to heat, and they’d both flown too close to the sun.
The music stopped.
From ONE KISS WITH A
ROCK STAR by Amber Lin and Shari Slade
Excerpt #3
He stood stock-still, a lighthouse in the stormy sea, his
gaze locked on hers. The rigid lines of his body raged at her from twenty feet
away. The hard set of his jaw mocked her desperate desire for a kiss. No wonder
he’d accused her of masterminding Ward’s stupid engagement scheme. Other
nineteen-year-old girls made moon eyes at their crush from across campus. Only Madeline
Fox arranged for hers to kiss her on the set of her new music video.
She raised her eyebrow in challenge. Maybe she deserved his
scorn, but she couldn’t take the hit without snapping back. This was the animal
kingdom, and the one who fought hard was the one who survived.
It felt like an eternity as he considered whether to leave
her hanging. It would be the tabloids’ lead story tomorrow. Jilted
at her own birthday party. She held her breath, almost wanting him to
leave.
Then she could hate him.
But he didn’t leave. He stalked toward her, every inch the
rocker badass. The kind of badass who wasn’t interested in a pop
princess—unless they were in a back room. A back alley. Unless he could hide
his face in her hair and his dick in her cunt. She knew he wanted to have sex
with her…but that’s where the attraction ended.
He had no respect for her as a person, an artist. A fake
engagement would be humiliating for him. The other kids on the playground might
think he had cooties. She leveled him with a cold look as he launched himself
onto the stage.
“What the fuck?” he muttered.
She read the words on his lips more than heard him. It was
impossible to hear over the rumble of the crowd, but she could fix that. She
slipped two fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tugged. His eyes
widened as he fell into her.
“Dance for me,” she whispered, her lips inches from his.
He scowled at her, yanking the microphone from her hand. He
kept it low enough not to catch his voice in her ear. “I don’t dance.”
Liar. She’d seen him sway his hips. She’d
watched him dip to the crowd. He was a magician and Mata Hari rolled into one,
but telling him that would mean admitting she’d watched his career since his
first record deal.
Instead she leaned close. “It’s easy. Like fucking. Just
keep moving your hips until I scream your name.”
She’d said it to piss him off. He obviously hated the way
his dick got hard for her.
But instead of getting angrier, the corner of his mouth
tilted up in a crooked grin. Lord. If she’d thought his frown
was hot, that smile was a fucking wildfire. It lit her nerve endings one after
the other, spreading over her skin and stealing her air.
From ONE KISS WITH A ROCK STAR by Amber Lin and Shari Slade
Excerpt #4
Krist planted his palms on the cold metal behind her and
leaned over, blocking her body with his in case they had an audience lurking in
the shadows. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. If someone got a
picture, they wouldn’t be able to tell for sure who was under him. Unless
they’d gotten one as they exited the building. In that case it didn’t matter.
None of it mattered; they were already linked together now.
But that didn’t mean he had to play along. “You’re too much. You manipulate me
into singing at your party, something that’s probably already buzzing on the
gossip sites, and you want me to make it up to you?”
Her head fell back, exposing the long column of her
neck, her breasts rising and falling as she laughed. A throaty laugh, almost
mournful. “Yes.”
“You weren’t happy with the performance? You wanted an
original composition?”
“‘Broken.’” Her eyes widened as soon as the words were out
of her mouth, like she’d surprised herself with the admission.
That fucking song. That goddamn fucking song. The only song
he sang lead. The last song he’d written on his own. The least popular song in
their whole catalog. And she wanted him to sing it. Either she was trying to
earn some fan cred or she really did want to make a fool of him. He couldn’t
tell. “Never gonna happen.”
She licked her lips and nodded, sliding her hands over his
stomach and chest, trailing heat up his body, until they rested on his
shoulders. “Then one kiss. A real one.”
His laugh tore at his throat, rustier than the wall they
leaned against. “Is that all you wanted? You didn’t need to orchestrate a video
shoot and a fake engagement to get another kiss, princess. All you had to do
was ask.”
“I’m asking now.”
She asked him with her whole body. With her hands kneading
the tense muscles of his shoulders. With her thigh wedged between his legs,
pressing against his crotch. With her breasts thrust toward him, dangerously
close to spilling out of her top. With her mouth, wet and open, a breath away
from his. Every inch of her working toward this goal. Working him.
Energy crackled between them, different from what they’d
shared onstage or in the club. This felt raw and real, even if he was certain
it was another page from her playbook. Maybe it was the harsh wall behind them
or the smell of the dumpster wafting over from a few feet away. They weren’t
celebrities on the job, watching and being watched. They were just two people,
turned on from too much skin-to-skin contact in a club, looking to scratch an
itch.
He could lie to himself when he needed to, when he had an
itch.
He took a step back, and she gasped,disappointment
spreading over her face like a haze. He replaced it with shock when he grabbed
her by the hips and lifted her up. She wobbled, but her body was strong, a
dancer’s body, used to being hoisted and tossed. She wrapped her legs around
his waist, hooked her arms around his neck, and then they were all tongues and
teeth. More clash than kiss. The naked heat of her scorched his belly. No
panties.
He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and nipped. He
wanted to nip more. To bite and suck and sink his body into something warm and
wonderful. He spun them around and leaned his back against the wall.
If only this could be anonymous, like they really were just two people who met
in a club. “I’m not going to fuck you, princess.”
He hated how cruel he sounded. Lock’s voice rang in his ears. If
I wanted to fuck you, I’d have done it already. God, that had hurt.
She didn’t need to be hurt like that, not on her birthday.
“You keep saying that, maybe—”
He cut her off. Maybe he could make it up to her. “Maybe you
should be quiet while I finish giving you your birthday kiss.”
Before she could tug her dress back into place, he
was crouched low between her legs.
“Oh. Okay.” She splayed her fingers over the top of his
head.
He anchored his hands on her ass and looked up the line of
her body. Her dancer’s body. Used to being hoisted and lifted. “Hang on. We're
going up.”
And then he pushed off, lifting her into the air again.
A dirty piggyback ride with his face buried in her pussy.
From ONE KISS WITH A
ROCK STAR by Amber Lin and Shari Slade
TEASER GRAPHICS
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