Jase Hewitt never imagined he’d have a shot at bedding the larger than life rock star - never mind dominating him - but now he’s worried he’s in over his head. Jordan’s kinks run deep, dark, and sometimes dangerous, putting Jase’s desires to both pleasure and protect him at odds.
They might have a fighting chance at finding the safe, happy medium between what Jordan needs and what Jase is willing to give, but there’s one problem: Daniel, Jordan’s childhood best friend, the band’s talented guitarist — and a volatile, hard-partying drug addict. Jordan is determined to save Daniel from himself, but Jase has been there, done that, and desperately wants to protect Jordan from the inevitable heartache of watching an addict self-destruct.
When Daniel goes off the rails again, Jordan calls off the tour to get him help. Tension within the band skyrockets and pressure from the record label sends Jordan into a dark spiral. Now his band — and his life — are balanced on a knife's edge, and Jase is the only one who can pull him back... but only if the echoes of his own tragic past don't push him over first.
EXCERPT:
Here an excerpt to whet your appetites – Jase escorts Jordan to an interview the morning after their first intimate encounter…
Jase hustled me inside the radio station, one hand laid protectively on my shoulder. “You okay?” he murmured.
Not the first time he’d asked me that this morning. Concern looked adorable on him. “Fine.” I twisted around, peering through the station’s front window to make sure we were out of the mob’s eyeshot, then reached for his hand. Barely enough time for a quick squeeze before the receptionist’s gaze flicked our way.
Rumors had been circulating about my bisexuality for years—rumors I’d helped cultivate. Everybody thought Daniel and I had an on-again, off-again thing going, which explained why we still shared a house in LA. Sure, I liked women too, but big, strong guys like Jase? They were my fucking Kryptonite. God, what wouldn’t I give to be able to hold his hand or kiss those lips again—those gorgeous, lush cocksucking lips—in front of everyone?
This is who I really am, fuckers. Deal with it.
The receptionist buzzed us through, and we headed down a bright, fluorescent-lit corridor. A tall, skinny chick in a plaid mini-skirt and combat boots darted out of the station manager’s office. “Jordan! Great seeing you again.”
“How ya doing, Casey darlin.’” I planted a kiss on her goth-pale cheek. “Thanks for inviting me.”
She cast a pointed glance behind us, her shiny plum-colored smile dimming. “Daniel didn’t come with?”
“He’s a little under the weather today, sweetheart. You know how it is.” I flashed my fakest, schmooziest grin. How easily the lies rolled off my tongue these days. It should’ve bothered me, the way it didn’t bother me anymore. “At this point we’ve been exposed to every fucking virus on the planet, except maybe ebola.”
She laughed, linking her arm through mine. “Aside from that, how’s the tour going?”
“Not bad. In fact, I think we’re sold out again tonight.”
“That’s amazing! And I remember when you used to play that little club down on the strip.”
That little dive, she meant. There were plenty of nights when I wished we were still playing places like that. No money to speak of, audiences more interested in getting shit-faced than paying attention to us, but fuck, making music had been exciting back then. Raw, visceral. The way we used to sound before Millennium sank their claws in us.
“Chris should be ready for you in about five minutes,” Casey said. “He’ll want to talk about the tour and the new album, and have you play a song or two, if you have time.”
Good thing I’d had Jase bring my guitar. Most stations wanted a little something-for-nothing, all in the name of publicity. My throat was sore and scratchy after last night, but I’d sung through a lot worse. Hell, on our last tour I got so sick I had to go on complete vocal rest except when I was onstage.
“No problem, darlin.’” Women usually melted when I broke out the ol’ Texas drawl, but Casey just smiled and led me and Jase back to the studio. Man, I loved radio people. They didn’t get all flustered or starstruck. This was business as usual for them, thank fucking God.
The control booth was a glorified broom closet with one lone engineer manning the console. Casey ushered us inside, then waved to Chris the deejay, a fortyish guy in a black T-shirt with tattoos up and down both arms sitting behind a thick panel of glass. His studio looked out on the parking lot, which meant there were dozens of fans crammed around the windows, cheering and holding up signs.
“After the break, we’ll be chatting with our surprise guest, Jordan Kane of No Rules,” Chris intoned. “Stay tuned!”
That was my cue. Jase got my guitar out of its case and handed it to me. “Thanks.” I turned to Casey. “Jase can wait in here, right?”
“Of course.”
I shot Jase a “God, I want to fuck you right now” look, chuckling as his cheeks turned red. Embarrassed, after what we’d done last night? How fucking adorable. Took all my willpower to resist the urge to lay a lip-lock on him. Instead, I pasted on a smile and headed into the studio.
Chris stood as I came through the door and shook my hand. “Hey, man, great to see you. Have a seat.” He pointed at the chair across from him, a microphone hanging above it. I sat down and waved at the crowd outside. They jumped up and down, mouths open in muffled screams. Thank God for soundproof glass.
“And we’re back with our special guest Jordan Kane,” Chris said. “How you doing, man? We haven’t seen you around these parts in, what? Two, three years?”
“Yeah, well, between touring, making a new album, and touring some more, it’s been a really busy, productive time.”
“How many cities have you hit so far on this tour?”
“Eight, I think? We’ve got five more stops on the US leg, then we’re taking a couple weeks off before we head to Europe.”
“Sounds like an insane schedule, but I guess you’re used to it?”
“A little insanity never hurt anybody.” I grinned, flicking a glance at Jase. His face was still red. The guy was a study in contradictions—hot and dominant in the bedroom, yet so easy to tease outside of it. “It’s a big help in writing songs.”
“Speaking of, would you mind playing us something?”
“Sure.” I picked up my guitar and started tuning it. No idea what to play until I saw Jase watching me through the window. Then I knew.
I launched into “Forth Into Light,” and even through the thick glass I heard the crowd burst into applause. But I wasn’t thinking about them. This was my favorite song—mine and Jase’s. I always thought it sounded a thousand times better in its original acoustic arrangement, all the emotions stripped down. Laid bare.
When I got to the bridge, I looked right at Jase and sang it to him.
“I need to be kept bound
I spin
The earth falls down
You smile
When I can only weep
Entwine
The rushing of my heart
With breaths
Of the sublime…”
New lyrics that I hadn’t even thought of until right this moment. Jase’s smile told me he’d picked up on their significance.
A few more bars, and the final notes faded into silence. Chris leaned in close to his mike. “That was gorgeous, man.”
“Thanks.” Nodding, I looked at Jase again. His intense green gaze tore right through me. “There you go,” I whispered.
Jase hustled me inside the radio station, one hand laid protectively on my shoulder. “You okay?” he murmured.
Not the first time he’d asked me that this morning. Concern looked adorable on him. “Fine.” I twisted around, peering through the station’s front window to make sure we were out of the mob’s eyeshot, then reached for his hand. Barely enough time for a quick squeeze before the receptionist’s gaze flicked our way.
Rumors had been circulating about my bisexuality for years—rumors I’d helped cultivate. Everybody thought Daniel and I had an on-again, off-again thing going, which explained why we still shared a house in LA. Sure, I liked women too, but big, strong guys like Jase? They were my fucking Kryptonite. God, what wouldn’t I give to be able to hold his hand or kiss those lips again—those gorgeous, lush cocksucking lips—in front of everyone?
This is who I really am, fuckers. Deal with it.
The receptionist buzzed us through, and we headed down a bright, fluorescent-lit corridor. A tall, skinny chick in a plaid mini-skirt and combat boots darted out of the station manager’s office. “Jordan! Great seeing you again.”
“How ya doing, Casey darlin.’” I planted a kiss on her goth-pale cheek. “Thanks for inviting me.”
She cast a pointed glance behind us, her shiny plum-colored smile dimming. “Daniel didn’t come with?”
“He’s a little under the weather today, sweetheart. You know how it is.” I flashed my fakest, schmooziest grin. How easily the lies rolled off my tongue these days. It should’ve bothered me, the way it didn’t bother me anymore. “At this point we’ve been exposed to every fucking virus on the planet, except maybe ebola.”
She laughed, linking her arm through mine. “Aside from that, how’s the tour going?”
“Not bad. In fact, I think we’re sold out again tonight.”
“That’s amazing! And I remember when you used to play that little club down on the strip.”
That little dive, she meant. There were plenty of nights when I wished we were still playing places like that. No money to speak of, audiences more interested in getting shit-faced than paying attention to us, but fuck, making music had been exciting back then. Raw, visceral. The way we used to sound before Millennium sank their claws in us.
“Chris should be ready for you in about five minutes,” Casey said. “He’ll want to talk about the tour and the new album, and have you play a song or two, if you have time.”
Good thing I’d had Jase bring my guitar. Most stations wanted a little something-for-nothing, all in the name of publicity. My throat was sore and scratchy after last night, but I’d sung through a lot worse. Hell, on our last tour I got so sick I had to go on complete vocal rest except when I was onstage.
“No problem, darlin.’” Women usually melted when I broke out the ol’ Texas drawl, but Casey just smiled and led me and Jase back to the studio. Man, I loved radio people. They didn’t get all flustered or starstruck. This was business as usual for them, thank fucking God.
The control booth was a glorified broom closet with one lone engineer manning the console. Casey ushered us inside, then waved to Chris the deejay, a fortyish guy in a black T-shirt with tattoos up and down both arms sitting behind a thick panel of glass. His studio looked out on the parking lot, which meant there were dozens of fans crammed around the windows, cheering and holding up signs.
“After the break, we’ll be chatting with our surprise guest, Jordan Kane of No Rules,” Chris intoned. “Stay tuned!”
That was my cue. Jase got my guitar out of its case and handed it to me. “Thanks.” I turned to Casey. “Jase can wait in here, right?”
“Of course.”
I shot Jase a “God, I want to fuck you right now” look, chuckling as his cheeks turned red. Embarrassed, after what we’d done last night? How fucking adorable. Took all my willpower to resist the urge to lay a lip-lock on him. Instead, I pasted on a smile and headed into the studio.
Chris stood as I came through the door and shook my hand. “Hey, man, great to see you. Have a seat.” He pointed at the chair across from him, a microphone hanging above it. I sat down and waved at the crowd outside. They jumped up and down, mouths open in muffled screams. Thank God for soundproof glass.
“And we’re back with our special guest Jordan Kane,” Chris said. “How you doing, man? We haven’t seen you around these parts in, what? Two, three years?”
“Yeah, well, between touring, making a new album, and touring some more, it’s been a really busy, productive time.”
“How many cities have you hit so far on this tour?”
“Eight, I think? We’ve got five more stops on the US leg, then we’re taking a couple weeks off before we head to Europe.”
“Sounds like an insane schedule, but I guess you’re used to it?”
“A little insanity never hurt anybody.” I grinned, flicking a glance at Jase. His face was still red. The guy was a study in contradictions—hot and dominant in the bedroom, yet so easy to tease outside of it. “It’s a big help in writing songs.”
“Speaking of, would you mind playing us something?”
“Sure.” I picked up my guitar and started tuning it. No idea what to play until I saw Jase watching me through the window. Then I knew.
I launched into “Forth Into Light,” and even through the thick glass I heard the crowd burst into applause. But I wasn’t thinking about them. This was my favorite song—mine and Jase’s. I always thought it sounded a thousand times better in its original acoustic arrangement, all the emotions stripped down. Laid bare.
When I got to the bridge, I looked right at Jase and sang it to him.
“I need to be kept bound
I spin
The earth falls down
You smile
When I can only weep
Entwine
The rushing of my heart
With breaths
Of the sublime…”
New lyrics that I hadn’t even thought of until right this moment. Jase’s smile told me he’d picked up on their significance.
A few more bars, and the final notes faded into silence. Chris leaned in close to his mike. “That was gorgeous, man.”
“Thanks.” Nodding, I looked at Jase again. His intense green gaze tore right through me. “There you go,” I whispered.
BUY LINKS: Amazon | Nook | iTunes | Smashwords
MY IMPRESSIONS OF THIS BOOK:
As a fan of rockstar stories I was immediately drawn to this story and the intensity of the emotions on display. The glitz and glamour, as well as the loneliness and stress, of the music world is vividly depicted in ways that don't always end happily but keep reality just a breath away. The characters weren't always perfect but they made you feel and put you through the emotional wringer to the very end.
The authors dealt with real issues of addiction in its many forms along with self-injurious individuals and their needs to feel anything, no matter how close to danger they tread. Lead singer Jordan always wanted fame but he finds it a lonely place where no one can be trusted until bodyguard Jase enters the picture. Jordan enjoys walking on the wild side of sexuality as a form of escape as he always feels as though everyone wants something from him. Jase is the one person who wants Jordan for himself, he just wants to keep him safe and help him express his pain in a safer way though. The two of them are scorching together in numerous m/m sexual encounters, but guitarist Daniel's constantly on the fringe of their relationship keeping them from fully committing because of his jealousy. Daniel is the face of addiction and the authors actually found a way to make him sympathetic towards the end as until that moment his addiction was toxic to everyone around him.
This was an intense read from start to finish. Intense BDSM play was woven perfectly throughout the story and showed why individuals are drawn to it as a form of mental escape as this reader became fully immersed in these erotically charged scenes. The characters are compelling with deep seated issues and scenes that left me a bit teary-eyed at times too. Ms. Grant and Ms. Witt are at the top of their game in this story and I look forward to what they create together next!
My rating for this is an A.
*I received this book from the author for review in exchange for my honest opinion.
AUTHOR INFO:
Cat Grant lives by the sea in beautiful Monterey, California, with one persnickety feline and way too many books and DVDs. When she’s not writing, you can usually find her watching movies or TV (Supernatural and The Vampire Diaries are among her favorite shows), singing along to her favorite band (30 Seconds to Mars), or fantasizing about kinky sex with Michael Fassbender and/or Jared Leto.
WEBSITE: http://catgrant.com
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/
FACEBOOK: http://www.
GOODREADS: http://www.goodreads.com/
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE::
http://www.amazon.com/Cat-
EMAIL: cat@catgrant.com
SUBSCRIBE TO HER NEWSLETTER here.
WEBSITE: http://catgrant.com
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/
FACEBOOK: http://www.
GOODREADS: http://www.goodreads.com/
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE::
http://www.amazon.com/Cat-
EMAIL: cat@catgrant.com
SUBSCRIBE TO HER NEWSLETTER here.
L.A. Witt is an abnormal M/M romance writer currently living in the glamorous and ultra-futuristic metropolis of Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two cats, and a disembodied penguin brain that communicates with her telepathically. In addition to writing smut and disturbing the locals, L.A. is said to be working with the US government to perfect a genetic modification that will allow humans to survive indefinitely on Corn Pops and beef jerky. This is all a cover, though, as her primary leisure activity is hunting down her arch nemesis, erotica author Lauren Gallagher, who is also said to be lurking somewhere in Omaha.
WEBSITE: http://www.
TWITTER: @GallagherWitt
BLOG: http://gallagherwitt.
WEBSITE: http://www.
TWITTER: @GallagherWitt
BLOG: http://gallagherwitt.
This looks great - just added it to my wishlist :)
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This story sounds amazing. I love those gut-wrenching ones that take you to hell and back, and this sounds like one of them!
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Such a beautiful song, loved the excerpt!
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I love stories with bodyguards who become romantically involved with their principal.
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