One Kiss With A Rock Star
by Amber Lin, Shari Slade
Half Life Series #2
Publication Date: November 6, 2014
Genres: Romance
Blurb
Half-Life bassist Krist
Mellas 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.
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 a little 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’d chosen 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.
He pulled back, breaking
the kiss, but not the connection burning between them. “Why me?”
She blinked, hazy with
lust. “Because you're the demon.”
That's my motivation. “No, why did you want me for this set. I know
you did.”
He needed her to say it
out loud. Because you owe me. Then he
could be done. Then this could be filed away as one more task completed, one
more favor repaid. Then he could ignore the sweet ache he felt at the thought
of letting her go.
Buy the book
~ Author
Bios ~
About Amber Lin
Amber Lin writes edgy
romance with damaged hearts, redemptive love, and a steamy ever after. 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.” Since then, she has gone on to write
erotic, contemporary, and historical romances.
To stay up to date with
upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter.
About Shari Slade
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.
Sign up for her newsletter to stay up-to-date
on all the latest releases, happenings, and events.
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