Sunday, November 16, 2014

One Kiss with a Rock Star by Amber Lin and Shari Slade

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!

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

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.


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


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