Jade C. Jamison's Blog, page 3

Killing my gargantuan rock star romance project (it’s for the best)

To my rock star romance loving friends:

As you might know, since June of 2021, I have been obsessed with finding every single rockstar romance book that had ever been published, even if it’s no longer available to purchase and read anymore. I wanted to find them all, because I figured it was a newer subgenre of romance (unlike, say, historical romance, which has been around for decades)—and I confirmed that with my research. Rockstar romance really picked up speed in the middle ’00s.

Finding them all (sounds like an anime phenomenon, doesn’t it? *wink*) was my goal. I started out by finding all the books I could remember and then branching out from there. I scoured lists (“shelves” on Goodreads), utilized Google to find blog posts and pages, and searched Amazon for currently published books, and I began organizing titles by their first original publishing date. I had a lot of fun doing it and it quickly became an obsession. I had to find every single one.

The problem? Every time I thought I was reaching the light at the end of the tunnel, I found more. Not just one more, but dozens. So I’ve updated those original blog posts dozens of times now. And I keep finding more.

So here it is, nine months later, and I am still finding books, both old and new. In everyday life, I would be getting close to having a baby. But this baby’s nowhere near finished—I know that now. Looking back, I wonder why I thought I could take on this monumental task but I think it was naïveté. At the time, it looked like a hill when it was actually Everest. Today, I think I may have located most of the books published prior to 2021, but if someone told me I hadn’t, I would believe them. There’s no way I’ve catalogued every single book.

My original plan consisted of a few ideas that fed into a larger collection of those books cross-referenced. I’d also hoped to share new books as they were released. But I now know that I cannot continue devoting my precious time to this project. It really has eaten up more hours and days and weeks than I’d ever dreamed. I won’t take down the posts I’ve already created, but I’m not going to add to them anymore—unless, of course, another author or reader tells me, “Hey! You forgot this one!” But I’m not going to go searching anymore. What I thought would take a month or two has now taken far longer than that and has become never ending.

I should be publishing my own books, not blog posts about others! That’s not to say I don’t want to share my friends’ releases. I just need to keep my readers happy, too!

So, even though I originally bit off more than I could chew, I’ve found a way to have my cake and eat it, too. (Two eating clichés in one! Imagine that!) One offshoot of this project (that wasn’t my original intention but worked out well) is a weekly Rockstar Romance Deals page that I update every Wednesday. I’ve also incorporated these books into my weekly newsletter. So, even though I’m not completely abandoning my original project, I’ve scaled it back quite a bit. So folks following me can still get weekly rock star romance picks AND get a new book from me regularly!

I’m no longer delusional. I know what I can handle and what I can’t, which is most of the battle!

One thing I can assure you, though, now that I’ve put in hundreds of hours of research: rock star romance isn’t going anywhere, and there are dozens of new titles published every single month. On top of that, you can find just about any subgenre or trope your heart desires (we’re talking sweet or steamy, adult, YA, or NA, other music “flavors” like country or pop, MM, enemies to lovers, small town, female rockers, ménage, single father, second chance, instalove, standalones or series…the list really does go on and on).

So…for those of you who’d been taking a trip down memory lane with me when I first started this project or those of you who found out what I was doing later, I apologize if you were wanting me to keep going. I hope this new angle keeps you happy and buried in rockstar reads anyway!

But, if you stumbled upon this page and wonder what the heck I’m talking about, you can check out the scope and endgame of this project here:

The Ultimate Compilation of Rock Star Romance

Rockstar Romance Reads (new list every Wednesday)

If you want weekly reminders, you can subscribe to my newsletter.

Rock on,

Jade

Twelve Female Rockstar Romances You’ll Love!

I know female rockers are no anomaly–but, in the world of heavy metal where most of my rock stars live, they are. When I was much younger and metal was newer, I could count the number of female rockers on one hand. While they’re not so rare anymore, they’re still unusual, even in rockstar romance fiction.

I myself love writing about hardcore female rock stars, but I’m not the only author who does. So I’ve gathered here fifteen amazing female rocker romance novels for you. I know you’re going to love them! (By the way, the links lead to Amazon, but you might be able to find these stories at other bookstores.)

Broken (Guitar Face #1), Sasha Marshall Bullet (Bullet #1), Jade C. Jamison Chaos (Mayhem #3), Jamie Shaw Hard Rock Crush (Cherry Lips #1), Athena Wright The Hysterics (The Hysterics #1), Kristen Hope Mazzola In the Band (Luminescent Juliet #1), Jean Haus Never Say Never (Never Knights #1), Kailin Gow On the Run (Vagabonds #1), Jade C. Jamison Ready to Love (Damaged Hearts #1), Franca Storm Rising (Blue Phoenix #4), Lisa Swallow Rising West (Save Me #1), Aly Stiles Rocked Senseless , Alyson Hale

Which girl rocker romance books did I leave out? Comment below and let me know!

Ten Friends-to-Lovers Rockstar Romance Novels That’ll Make You Swoon!

OMG, what’s not to love about friends-to-lovers romances? Two best friends who already adore each other, love spending time together, maybe all the while harboring a secret crush. Then, when it happens, the awkwardness of it all that threatens to destroy any semblance of a relationship. The two of them figuring out how to make things work.

Or not!

Sometimes, these amazing authors find a way to tell a story that keeps us on our toes. Either way, if done right, they’ll leave us swooning, wanting more.

And then you throw a rockstar in the mix? SOLD!

Here are ten friends-to-lovers rock star romance stories that you’ll love. I’ve linked here to Amazon, but you might find some of these ebooks available at other online retailers. Enjoy!

Dirty Like Seth (Dirty #3), Jaine Diamond Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars), A.L. Jackson Tangled Web (Tangled Web #1), Jade C. Jamison Secret Smiles (Love in Sienna #1), Laura John Suddenly Together (Dirty Texas #2), J A Low The Unexpected Duet (Amaryllis Romance #3), Mandy Melanson Freefall (The Wind & the Roar Trilogy #1), Cat Porter Ravage (Civil Corruption #4), Jessica Prince Trust (Full Moon #1), Stacy Stone Limitless (Less Than Zero #2), Kaylene Winter

Are there any of your favorite friends-to-lovers rocker romances I’ve left off this list? Which one of these have you already read? Please comment and let me know!

Twenty Second Chance Rockstar Romance Books You’ll Love!

If you’re here, then I already know you love rock star romance–but lots of readers love second chance romance, too–and second chance rockstar romance? It doesn’t get better than that.

I love the second chance trope, because sometimes we have regrets…the “what ifs.” And it can be so fun and realistic with rocker romance. Small town boy leaves to pursue rock star dreams and decides he can’t live without the girl he left behind. Maybe he even broke her heart and now he has to work overtime to win it back!

Out of the twenty books listed, which ones have you already read? Which ones are you going to check out right now? All of the links below lead to Amazon (which means some of them are only available in Kindle Unlimited)–but if you read elsewhere, see if you can find a couple of these ebooks at your online bookseller of choice. Enjoy!

Love and Music Blood and Bone (Blood and Bone #1), Paula Dombrowiak Crazy to Love You (Wild Love #3), J. Saman Defile (Civil Corruption #2), Jessica Prince Dirty Like Brody (Dirty #2), Jaine Diamond The Encore Tour (Amaryllis Romance #2), Mandy Melanson Endless (Less Than Zero #1), Kaylene Winter Fate (Full Moon #2), Stacy Stone Kade , Jane Anthony Love and Music (Small Town Secrets #5), Jade C. Jamison More Than You Say (Back Stage #2), Rebecca Stone No One to Hold (Hold #1), Arell Rivers No Tomorrow , Carian Cole Rock Hard (Sinners on Tour #2), Olivia Cunning Rock the Heart (Black Falcon #1), Michelle A. Valentine Rock Me Harder (Bad Boys of Rock #2), Jenna Jacob Rockstar (In the Heart of Texas #1), KC Klein Second Chance , Lilian Monroe Still Falling for You , Siobhan Davis Tangled Up in You (Rogue #1), Lara Ward Cosio Unplugged (Blue Phoenix #3), Lisa Swallow

Quite a few of these authors have written LOTS of second chance romances, some with rock stars as the hero and some without–so if you find one you love, see what others they have in store for you!

Is there a second chance rocker romance you love that’s not on my list? Let me know below in the comments!

(P.S. If you want lots more rock romance, see the Ultimate List!)

Twenty Small Town Rockstar Romance Reads You’ll Love!

If you haven’t read one before, you might think small town and rock star don’t go together, but I assure you they do–and they can go together quite well! There are hundreds of rockstar romance books out there that blend these subgenres/ tropes easily, but I just wanted to share a few.

If this subgenre is new to you, then I hope this list merely ignites your new obsession. If you’re already a fan of this little niche, then I hope I’ve listed a couple new ones for you to sink your teeth into. All links lead to Amazon (which means some of these are only available in Kindle Unlimited)–but if you read elsewhere, see if you can find a couple of these ebooks at your online bookseller of choice. Enjoy!

Love and Lies Branded by a Song (Anchor #5), LJ Evans Coming Alive (Welcome to Carson #1), Renee Harless Dad Bod Rockstar (Dad Bod Series – Men Built for Comfort), Melissa Schroeder Fragile (Rock Stars & Romance #1), A.K. Evans Getting Played , Emma Chase Hold on to My Heart (The Sullivans #22), Bella Andre Keeping You (Chikalu Falls #2), Lena Hendrix Lies and Lullabies (Hush Note #1), Sarina Bowen Love and Lies (Small Town Secrets #1), Jade C. Jamison Mustang Player , Eva Haining Oops! I Married a Rock Star , Nadia Lee Perfect Composition (Midas #3), Tracey Jerald Rock Star’s Wager , Candy J. Starr Small Town Pretender (Havenbrook #5), Brighton Walsh The Sound of Temptation , Dylan Allen Sticks and Stones (Vista Falls #5), Cheryl Douglas Take Me Home (The Heartbreak Brothers #1), Carrie Elks Tangled Web (Tangled Web #1), Jade C. Jamison Write You a Love Song (Love in Everton #1), Fabiola Francisco You Really Got Me (Rock Star Romance #1), Erika Kelly

Quite a few of these authors have written LOTS of small town romances with rock stars as the hero–so if you find one you love, see what others they have in store for you!

Is there a small town rocker romance you love that’s not on my list? Let me know below in the comments!

(P.S. If you want lots more rock romance, see the Ultimate List!)

Deleted chapters from ON THE RUN

It’s so easy to point out problems in retrospect, isn’t it? Such was the case for my rockstar romance trilogy The Vagabonds. I experimented with a lot of different elements (such as the cover) but, ultimately, I learned so many lessons.

I also realized, a few years later, that the first book, On the Run, took a little too long to get into the thick of things. A rookie mistake, something I knew both as a seasoned writer and as a creative writing teacher! And yet I’d done it. Hundreds of words before taking the dive into the story. So, a few years ago, I removed all that extra stuff and rewrote the prologue to make the story better.

But some of you might want to experience Kyle’s history, see where her story began before the book starts. If you’re curious…then let me sate that curiosity here and now! (I think you’ll be shocked at just how much I deleted!)

Original Prologue for On the Run (Vagabonds #1)

I HEARD SOME DJ on the radio the other day introducing my song—you know, my new single, the one I call “Ecstatic”?  Yeah, that song.  I laughed so hard when he said this album was a strong debut from me.  I suppose I shouldn’t be amused, because at least he knew I was one of the former guitarists from the Vagabonds.  But as my damn song has climbed up the Billboard charts, I’m shocked and surprised that so many people have never heard of me.  It’s not like I’ve been languishing in obscurity or hiding from the press.  I’ve been here, people, been working my ass off.  You just haven’t been watching.

I can’t be angry, though, because part of me feels like it’s about goddamn time.  I’ve been out here, playing my ass off, writing some killer music and sick lyrics, and I haven’t had many people listening since I parted ways with the Vagabonds.  Huge thanks to my hardcore fans, though, for buying the last two solo albums.  I don’t know where I’d be without you, but it looks like the rest of the world finally got on board and caught up with you.

This book is for them.  Sorry, fans—you already know my story.  You know how I started out.  You know my whole story with the Vagabonds as well as my struggles since.  You know where I came from.  You know about my friends and enemies.  You guys are the ones who’ve kept me rockin’.  No…this is for all the newbies, all the people who think this album that’s selling like there’s no tomorrow is my first one, all the people who think I’m “a find,” like I just got here.

This is your wake-up call.  Wanna take a ride?

Chapter One

A LOT OF people who have never heard of me think Kyle Summers is a fake name, that I made it up.  Yeah, I know lots of people who have created fake names or changed up their real names a bit for the biz, but I didn’t.  I was born Kyle Summers and I’ll die Kyle Summers…for better or worse.

My dad, I’m sure, will deny it till his dying day, but I’m pretty damn sure he’d been hoping for a boy.  He and my mom were kind of hippies and they believed that when I was born, I’d inspire a name, so they didn’t plan.  It was kind of like when you adopt a kitten—you name it once you get to know it.  Mom and dad felt that way about the baby growing inside her.  They’d just know what to call me when I came out.  Well…my dad happened to be the more organized, more conservative of the two, and I think he already had the name Kyle picked out, and I’m pretty damn sure he was hoping I’d have a penis when I fell out of my mom’s crotch.

Oh, yeah, another part of their hippiness—no ultrasounds.  In fact, very little prenatal care at all.  It just wasn’t their way.  So they had no idea the sex of their child, but I know dad was expecting a boy that day they gave in and went to the hospital so mom could give birth.

But, alas, I had no penis.

Just a bad fuckin’ attitude.

Actually, that’s not true.  Bad ass, perhaps, and that’s all thanks to how empowered my parents had always made me feel—like I could do anything; be anything.  The world was my damn horse and all I needed was to find the right saddle and mount up.  Or not.  I could ride bareback if need be.

Okay, so…my mom kind of got her way.  Kind of.  I guess you could say my middle name is a girl’s name, but the jury’s out on that one.  My middle name is Surrender.  Yeah, you got it right.  Surrender.  Like the verb.  Like giving up, giving in.  Totally not me.  But mom explained that when she saw my “little face” looking up at her, helpless and dependent, she surrendered her heart to me that moment.  She knew, right then and there, that I was her destiny.

No, I don’t think that’s too sappy.  You’d have to know my mom.  She totally owns it.  She’s amazing, and she really did make me feel like I could do anything.  She’s the reason why I’m here today.  She gave me so much love and support and encouragement, even when she probably should have hauled my ass home—even against my dad’s wishes, she knew what I wanted and needed and made sure I got it.

So, you might wonder why I don’t go by Surrender, considering that was my mom’s name for me.  Well, they started calling me Kyle right off the bat, and that’s who I am.  I think I was in about eight years old when I asked my parents to call me Surrender for a while, and it just didn’t work.  I don’t feel that name.  It didn’t feel right.  It’s not me.  Yeah, it’s part of me, but…well, I think you get the point.

Anyway, my parents, as you know, were free spirits.  They wandered wherever the wind took them, and for several of my formative years, we never put down roots anywhere.  In fact, until I was ten or eleven, my mom homeschooled me (or would that be road schooled?).  I think that’s why I’m just okay in math.  The good news is I’m well read, because I constantly had a book in my hand, and I started reading literature that was probably deemed too mature for me at a young age.  Being an only child made me somewhat precocious anyway, but add on that I read far and wide and deep…and, by the time I left my house, I’d probably read more books than most people read in a lifetime.  I loved Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden when I was little and then discovered old hard-boiled detective novels.  We’d find used book stores in whatever town we were in at the time and buy them by the bag full.  They were cheap and quick reads for me.  We’d usually roll into the next town and trade them for a new bunch to keep me busy.  And, since we were on the road a lot, I read more than you might expect.  I had nothing much more to do.  I didn’t have a reading device back then.  That would have required more responsibility from my parents than they were willing to take on.  They wanted as few ties to the world as possible, and having an account online whereby we’d purchase electronic books was not part of the plan.

Oh, and music.  I listened to lots of music.  I didn’t own an iPod in those days—for the same reason why I didn’t own a tablet.  Nope, all my music was in the form of good old-fashioned CDs, and I had a portable player, so I only had to keep stocked up on batteries.  The only downfall was the space they took up.  I listened to a lot of old stuff, though, because it was what my parents listened to and we didn’t always listen to the radio or tap into the internet when we were temporarily grounded somewhere.  So I first developed a love for Jimi Hendrix, AC/DC, Black Sabbath, and Deep Purple…and then I discovered 80s metal, and I’d buy used CDs in every town we stopped in.

You’re probably wondering by now how we afforded to do so much traveling.  Well, the story is that, just after I was born, my mom’s parents passed.  She too was an only child and inherited everything…but she’d hated her parents.  Despised them.  She didn’t cherish anything they’d left her.  So my mom and dad sold it all and lived off that money for years.  My dad told me he also invested wisely.  Sure, we’d stay in some communities for several months and my folks would sometimes work, but we never stayed for long.  Any friends I made were temporary and soon forgotten and the memories would fade and then blend in with all the rest.

When I was eleven or twelve, though…they felt like I needed friends.  I didn’t disagree.  We didn’t watch TV much, but when we did, I saw normal kids doing normal things with normal families…and I knew my family wasn’t normal.

That was also when everything changed for me.  I discovered Burn the Priest (who soon thereafter became Lamb of God) and Korn and Disturbed and…well, you get the idea.  I also discovered that school was a trip and that I was sorely lacking in math.  My parents got me a tutor and I managed, but it was never nor would it ever be a subject I loved.

I also found TV.  It wasn’t that exciting to me, not compared to all my other interests, but I did get into professional wrestling—oh, and Beavis and Butthead, of all things.

We settled in Southern Colorado after working on a farm that summer, and after that my dad quickly got a job teaching English Lit at a respected university in a neighboring city.  Yeah.  My dad.  I had no idea he had a PhD, and you wouldn’t have thought it the way we’d lived.  My mom started teaching music lessons in our home, something I had no idea she could do—and that was when I confessed to her that I too loved music…loved it deeply and wanted to learn how to play an instrument myself.

“What do you want to play, Ky?”

That was a no brainer, although I never would have said it out loud.  I thought of some of the guys I was really drawn to musically, guys like Mark Morton and Willie Adler, Dan Donegan, Kurt Cobain, Randy Rhoads, Robbin Crosby, Tom Keifer, George Lynch, Lita Ford, Dimebag, Jimi Hendrix, Slash…and there was no doubt in my mind what I wanted to play.  If I could be half as good as Mark Morton… “Electric guitar.”

Of course, mom and I debated if I should learn acoustic first—and I gave in and did it that way to begin with, but as soon as I had my first electric…I began teaching myself all the solos, all the riffs, all the amazing stuff the guitarists I worshipped did.  When I had that guitar hanging from my body, nothing else mattered…and time flew.  It was engaging on a level that nothing in my life before or since ever has been—and I belonged to it, heart and soul. I was twelve—in a new school, making friends for the first time in my life, finding my passion.  I knew in my heart that lots of people had no idea what they wanted to do when they were adults—but I wasn’t going to wait.  I was doing it now.

Chapter Two

IT DIDN’T TAKE me much time to become a “normal” teenager.  Once we were settled—for the first time in my life—it wasn’t long before I had my bedroom plastered with posters of my favorite bands.  In no time flat, I had adjusted and embraced what it meant to have roots, to be grounded.  My parents and I also discovered that I didn’t have a shy bone in my body—I made friends easily and enjoyed the hell out of school.

Part of that was also naïveté, the fact that I hadn’t been exposed to people on that level before.  I wasn’t a sucker, though.  I couldn’t be duped easily, but I did tend to take people at their face value and trust that they had my best interests at heart.  In school, it turned out to be a well-founded belief for the most part and didn’t cause me any issues.  Down the road, though, it would prove to be a big problem for me—and for the other girls in the band as well.

For the meantime, though, I had no problem making friends, but close friends?  No dice.  We had moved to a close-knit small town, one where everyone knew almost everyone else and certainly knew each other’s business.  We were the outsiders and, while we were accepted and welcomed, we were not native born-and-bred townsfolk.  I had acquaintance-type friends (and I was perfectly okay with that, because I hadn’t had any friends while on the road) but no best friends whom I told everything about my life to.  And that was all right.  I didn’t know any better.  In fact, it was probably a better thing, because I saw other girls flitting from one clique to the next, gossiping and talking trash about one another.  I couldn’t have been that girl.  I was much better on the fringe—friends with everyone…and best friends with no one.  I never had to choose sides.

It was lonely sometimes…but I had my guitar.

Yeah, my guitar.  From the moment my mother had begun instructing me, I took to that damn thing like a baby takes to her mother’s breast.  I latched on and fed from it.  That guitar was an extension of what was on the inside.  No, there was no great inner turmoil, no huge existential crisis, but there was still a lot in there, things I could only express through music, and the better I got at playing, the more my guitar spoke for me.

The older I got, the more it worked that way.

But it was more than that.  Music was a big part of me, inside and out, and I couldn’t imagine a day without it.  With the guitar, I was learning to take it a step further—I didn’t just listen and sing what someone else had created.  I had the ability now to create on my own.

Yeah, I had that knowledge and that power, but somehow, at the tender age of thirteen (even though I’d been playing for a little over a year at that point), I didn’t feel ready.  Instead, I kept learning riffs and solos, teaching myself how to play some of the more complex compositions my favorite guitarists had written.  I didn’t even think about it—I just did it.  It was something fun, a new challenge every time I picked it up.  Every day after school, I’d do my homework as demanded by my parents, and then the rest of the night I’d spend in my room, playing a song from one of my CDs (over and over and over again) while duplicating what I heard.  Sure, mom had taught me chords and scales, but I was learning everything I’d need to know about the guitar that would shape my future.  There was nothing I didn’t want to try.

So, by the time I was a sophomore in high school and the theater department decided to host a talent show as a fundraiser, I entered, wanting to show off my axe-slinging skills to my classmates.  Like I said earlier, they knew me as the happy-go-lucky girl in classes who asked an occasional question and participated in the literature discussions in English class, but they had no fucking clue who I really was.  This talent show?  They’d see my heart and guts spilling on the stage.  That was me.  That damned guitar represented who I was at the core.

My biggest problem was trying to decide what I wanted to share.  Yeah, it would just be me on guitar, so how exciting would that be, especially considering my taste in music?  A lot of my classmates weren’t into heavy metal like I was, so I didn’t know how many of those kids knew who some of my favorite bands were, let alone liked them…but it didn’t matter.  If I was going to play my guitar in front of an auditorium full of classmates, I was going to play something I was good at…and something I loved.  I finally decided to figure out a way to place five of my favorite artists into a medley—some of the late greats, as I thought of them.  I decided to do some kind of combination of Hendrix, Rhoads, Robbin Crosby, Dimebag, and Cobain, and I knew it would be kind of weird…but I also knew I could make it work.  Choosing the songs would be the tough part, but I decided to go with favorites, ones I already knew how to play and that I thought I could blend together somehow.  I chose my favorite Hendrix song of all time, “Purple Haze,” and then decided to look through the songs I knew of the artists and try to figure out songs that would work as one.  It took me a while to decide on the Ozzy song, but I finally settled on “I Don’t Know” because I loved the driving sound of the guitar.  Then I followed it up with part of “Wanted Man,” one of my favorite Ratt songs.  I decided to finish it up with riffs from the second part of Pantera’s “Hollow,” followed by a long minute of Nirvana’s “Aneurysm,” because it had so much diversity to it.  It took me days to make the five songs work together, but when I was done, I was thrilled and thought my long-gone idols might even be impressed with what I’d done with their music.  If any of my classmates recognized any of the songs, I would consider what I’d done a success, but I was going in assuming most of my audience wouldn’t be familiar with the tunes, because most of my classmates listened to softer rock, pop, hip hop, or country.  Metal (in any form) didn’t belong to too many kids—it did to some of the group of troubled souls, the ones who walked across the street in the morning to smoke in the park, since smoking wasn’t allowed on school grounds.  They were the kids who came from homes filled with violence, troubled parents, abusive family members, loved ones with mental problems.  It wasn’t that I didn’t like those kids, but I wasn’t going to be late to class just to hang with kids who’d make me smell like stale cigarette smoke.  I respected their choice in music, however.

Those were the kids who knew my music…but they were also likely to be the kids who’d never dream of attending a high school talent show in a million years.

My parents weren’t fans of my music choices, either.  They preferred rock and even pop and dance, stuff that was lower key—we’re talking shit like Maroon 5, Lady Gaga, Bruno Mars, Paramore, and The Black Eyed Peas, music that had long lost any kind of appeal for me.  But even though they didn’t like my music choices, they were impressed with my playing ability and the way I was learning to whip through a guitar solo.  I had long surpassed the lessons my mother had given me a year and a half earlier and had moved on to other things.

Trying out for the talent show was easy.  All I had to do was go to the auditorium after school one day and wait for my turn.  There were a few other kids there, ones also trying out.  I watched a couple of dance routines, a juggler, two bands (both fairly decent), a stand-up act, a funny skit, and lots of young girls singing—both solos and duets.  I recognized most of the singers from concert choir, and I knew they already had the performing in front of an audience part down pretty well.  That would be the hardest part for me.  Playing was no big deal, but I’d never played for a soul, not even my mother.  Yes, I’d showed her scales and some of the musical pieces she’d “assigned” as homework, but now that I was learning on my own, it had been me in my bedroom.  I didn’t even look in a mirror when I played.  Yeah…mom and dad had heard me through the walls, but I hadn’t had to feel like I was under their scrutiny.

An audience would be different.  These people would be watching me and only me for the few minutes I was onstage—and they wouldn’t necessarily like what I was doing.  Add to it if they weren’t friends, they might not even give me a courtesy clap.  I could feel the pressure already.

It didn’t matter, though.  I had already made up my mind to do it.  The only thing that would stand in my way would be if the drama teacher didn’t choose me to be in the show—and even that would be okay, because trying out was a step forward anyway.  No one had ever seen me play…so by the time the theater teacher told me it was my turn, it was down to him and a couple of drama kids hanging around who would hear, because I was one of the last to try out.

I had brought my guitar and a small amp—no special effects pedals or anything like that.  For the bands whose music I was playing, I didn’t need anything except the guitar.  The drama teacher mumbled something about there being other amps I’d be able to plug into during the actual show.  But he hadn’t chosen me yet to be a part of the show, so I supposed that would be “if.”

Because I was feeling nervous, I was sure that I’d mess up my audition, even if just a little.  I was certain I’d play a wrong note.  It was easy enough to do.  But I hadn’t counted on having played enough that my performance would be flawless.  Yes, I was feeling some anxiety at being watched and listened to, but I hadn’t considered that I’d let myself get lost in the music, just like I always did.  It was so easy to let it consume me, let it speak to me in ways only it could.  I stood up there, guitar strapped over my shoulders, and let the emotion of the notes wash over me, some of the purest, most beautiful notes I’d ever heard before.

I looked up once or twice, trying to connect with my audience, but the lights were bright.  I couldn’t tell if the few people there, drama teacher included, were impressed or horrified…so I just played my ass off.  When I was done, several minutes later, I walked to the edge of the stage where the glare of the lights was out of my eyes.  I wanted reactions.

I couldn’t read the drama teacher’s face.  Did he like it or hate it?  I had no idea.  I couldn’t tell if the kids left in the room liked it either, but I could see something there—something positive…so I was satisfied.  I barely registered when the teacher told me he’d post results outside his classroom door by the next morning…so, for the evening, I just had to bide my time.

I sat at the dinner table that evening but I had no interest in eating.  I took a bite here and there but mostly just pushed the food around my plate with my fork.  I could sense that mom and dad were hesitating, afraid to ask me about my audition…but I wasn’t sure how to voice my apprehension, my nerves.  This was the first time I’d ever put myself out there, ever laid my soul bare to potential rejection…and not knowing was tearing me up.

Mom finally asked, “Kyle, how do you think you did?  We can tell you’re nervous.”

I looked back down at the edge of my plate.  I didn’t need my parents’ acceptance or approval because I knew I already had it and I also knew they were proud of me, no matter what.  They would have been content to listen to me play behind the closed door of my bedroom or from the garage when I plugged in my amp.  They merely wanted me to be happy.  That was all they had wanted and, I had discovered since settling in Colorado, my happiness was the main reason we’d put down roots to begin with.  That overheard conversation between my parents, the one in which they reminded each other that they had to “stick with this damned town,” to live in a place they’d quickly grown to dislike, was in the back of my mind before I spoke.  If my parents were going to reside in a place they weren’t fond of, then I had to do my best to make it worth their while.  Getting to be a part of the talent show?  Not necessarily a big deal nor something my parents gave a shit about either way.  My mood regarding rejection or acceptance?  Huge.  So I swallowed my doubts and nerves.  Whether or not the theater teacher liked me, I knew I’d kicked ass on that performance, and even if the school rejected me, I knew I’d done well—and that was what my parents needed to hear.

“I did great.  Nailed the whole damn thing.  It was flawless.”

Both mom and dad smiled and then mom said, “I’m not surprised.  Your playing is usually flawless once you’ve got a song down.”

It was at that moment that I realized mom listened to me playing a lot more than I’d suspected.  I knew my musical abilities had already surpassed those of my parents, but there was a reason for it.  My parents liked music, perhaps even loved it.  Me?  It was my whole world.  It was the beginning and the end for me.  Once I’d discovered that damned guitar, nothing else—and I mean nothing else—mattered.

“Thanks, mom.”  I forced myself to stab some lettuce with my fork.

Dad asked, “Think you’ll make it into the talent show?”

I shrugged.  “No idea.  The drama teacher has a hell of a poker face.”  I paused, realizing I’d been letting out mild (yes, very mild, but there they were, nonetheless) expletive, ones I’d said in front of my friends dozens of times a day, sang in dozens of songs but never voiced at the dinner table…and nothing happened.  As always, my parents were progressive and lenient, and my use of words like damn and hell didn’t even phase them.  Little did I realize at the time, that lack of eyebrow raising from my parents merely fueled a rebelliousness in me that I didn’t even know was there.  “I could tell a few of the kids were impressed.”  I put down the fork of lettuce, still uneaten, and picked up my glass.  “Anyway, he said he’ll post results tomorrow.”

“If he doesn’t take you, it’s because he has no taste.”

My dad smiled.  “Well…not everyone likes Kyle’s taste in music.”

“That may be, but you know as well as I do that she’s got more talent in her pinkie finger than most people acquire from a lifetime of music lessons.”

I managed to eat a little dinner then—and, after helping my parents load the dishwasher, put on a concert for no one in the garage.  Unfortunately, playing for hours didn’t help me sleep and I had a hell of a time finding rest because I was starting to have a good feeling about tomorrow.

Chapter ThreeSomewhere in Chapter Three is where the new version of the book starts...but I'm including it here in its entirety!

I HAD TO wait until second period the next morning to find out the results of the talent show auditions.  I went past the drama teacher’s classroom for the fourth or fifth time that morning, now during passing period before my second class, to see if the teacher had posted results as promised.

And there it was.  Hell, yes.  I was listed among a bunch of other acts, and I wondered if my name being near the top meant a damn thing.  Probably not, and, as I continued looking at the length of the list, I began wondering if the teacher had accepted everyone who’d tried out for the talent show.  No matter.  Next week I’d be performing for anyone in my school who dared to attend, and I’d show everyone the awesome shit I could do with my axe.  I’d never played for any of my friends, hadn’t even played for my parents on purpose, and I was finally ready to show off.  I knew I was good.  I knew I was doing what a lot of people couldn’t.  I knew I could communicate through a tune, share an emotion through a riff, move the room with a few notes, and I wanted to do that with the world.

I was ready.

A couple of girls I hung out with from my United States History class (who were, for all intents and purposes, my closest friends) asked me at lunch what I’d be doing for the talent show when they heard I’d “made the cut,” and I told them I would be playing a medley of some of my favorite, but dead, rock stars, and I told them which ones.

One of the girls turned her nose up at me.  “You mean the guy from that metal band, Pantera?”

“Didn’t they sing that—song called ‘Walk’?”  I could tell my other friend had avoided putting a nasty adjective before the word song, finally realizing it might be a bit of a faux pas to trash or make fun of music I clearly loved.  And she was right.  Say one nasty thing about the Abbotts.  Just one.  I will make you regret your words.  I felt that adrenaline-charged sentiment rushing through my nerves, and I knew right then and there that I’d have no problems taking a fist to her pretty little face.  Did it really matter that she was dissing a band who’d never heard of her?  Of course not…but at that young age, having been a little spoiled by over-attentive, doting parents who’d made me feel I could do no wrong, I would have gladly laid her flat in the school parking lot—and all for making fun of one of my favorite bands, a guitarist I worshipped and often did my best to emulate on a daily basis.  Nothing that would have merited a fist fight.

But she’d curbed her tongue and merely asked a question, so I replied, “Yeah, they do.  That kickass song along with many others.  What about it?”

My friend saved herself by volunteering to take me shopping for an outfit.  Oh, hell.  I hadn’t even thought of what I’d wear onstage.  Until this point, I’d never much cared about impressing others with clothing, but now might be a chance to look the part.

So we went to a few thrift stores and consignment shops, spending our entire afternoon looking at clothes.  I almost bought a pair of black leather pants, but when I tried them on, they didn’t fit quite right.  They were tight while also feeling like they wouldn’t stay on properly, and I could tell I would perspire a lot in them.  And they were real leather, so I had no idea how to clean them.  After feeling frustrated about all the clothes I tried and didn’t like (and the ones my friend suggested that definitely didn’t work), I decided to just wear my own clothes—but, at least, the shopping trip made me think about an onstage costume.  I decided to just wear a pair of ripped-up jeans I wouldn’t normally wear to school and a t-shirt.  I chose an Ozzy t-shirt, considering it was part of one of his songs I would be playing.

I didn’t realize at the time that my stage presence would be important.  For now, I simply wanted to play and be heard, and I wasn’t dressing to impress.

The night of the talent show arrived.  The admission was cheap, just a couple bucks, because the theater teacher wanted the place packed.  And it worked.  There wasn’t an empty seat in the house.  I and twenty-some other acts stood backstage or hung out in the greenroom and heard the murmur of the crowd become a loud roar as the auditorium filled up.  I walked backstage once more and peeked between the velvet curtains that separated the front of the stage from the back and saw an ocean of people in front of me.

That was when I grew nervous.  Really nervous.  This was real.  By the time the show started, my stomach was in knots.  I didn’t want to pace in the greenroom, because I might make other acts nervous.  More than that, though, was that I knew pacing and looking worried would detract from the persona I was trying to wear.  I wanted to look cool, and the only way to look cool was to be cool—or at least to fake it well.

So that was what I did.  The third act was a band, so that helped.  It was five guys and they played an Avenged Sevenfold song.  Forcing myself to get lost in their music helped me relax in a way nothing else would have.  I let myself get into the zone, much like a mental place I imagined athletes or soldiers went to when they knew they had to win, no matter what the cost.  It sounds melodramatic now, but back then it gave me the courage to perform in front of people for the very first time.  I also kept reminding myself that my practices all week long had been continually flawless.  I had this.

So, when it was my turn, I walked onstage while a tech student plugged the school’s cable into my guitar, not knowing what to expect until I struck the first chord.  After I heard my name announced and the audience poured upon me the requisite applause, I closed my eyes and took one more deep breath.

It was time.

I chose, at that moment, not to look out at all the bodies watching me.  I already knew the place was crammed with people, and they’d already liked the Avenged Sevenfold song earlier, so they were warmed up for my music.  This would be okay.  And I knew I wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway.  The house lights were off, so that sea of bodies was now dark.  No way would I be able to see much of anything.

So I stood under the hot lights of the stage and arranged my fingers to do what they already knew how to do.  Once I started playing, everything else washed away—the anxiety, the worry that no one would like my music, the fear, the dread…even the real me.  I got lost in the music and allowed myself to feel the audience.

Yeah, that was weird.  I hadn’t known that there would be some sort of connection, but there was.  I could tell that some people didn’t know what to think but there was another sensation mixed with it…and that was positive.  Very positive.  That feeling energized me so that I played that damn arrangement better than I ever had before.  My fingers flew all over those strings and the playing I’d done over the past week, merely as a drill to make sure I could respond on cue and play without error, was forgotten.  Tonight I was playing with renewed vigor and it was intuitive.  It wasn’t rote playing; it wasn’t just playing the notes in order because they were written in that way.  My mind and body felt that they belonged there, and I played them to complete the beauty of the songs.

When I finished, I could still feel the vibration of the strings through my fingers when I heard the audience cheering and clapping.  I looked up, grinning, and squinted, trying to see through the bright lights.  I knew my mom and dad were out there somewhere, and I was happy about that, but I was even more thrilled that a lot of people—some who knew me and lots who didn’t—could appreciate my talent, even if it wasn’t their thing.

God, it felt amazing.

When I went backstage, I felt like a star—high fives, big smiles in the muted light filtering over the curtain.  I went to the greenroom, guitar still hanging off my shoulder, and closed the door.  One of my male classmates, a kid named Decker, said, “Holy shit, Summers.  I didn’t know girls could play like that.”  I smirked, because there was a long (though admittedly light) history of girls playing like that, but I was happy to bask in the glow.  Before I could come up with a response, he asked, “How long you been playin’?”

As I answered his question, I tried to remember what he’d been in the talent show for and then remembered that he and one of his friends, a guy standing behind him, were doing a comedy routine with magic tricks.  By the time I’d finished the answer, there were other kids getting closer.  I’d gotten more than I’d bargained for, it seemed, but I wasn’t complaining.  I felt like a star.

So…have you read it? The old version or the new? If you haven’t had a chance yet, you can check out On the Run here! If you have read it already, what do you think of this change?

New release rock star romance books for second half of 2021

If you’ve been following my blog (or even if you read my post about new rocker releases for the first half of 2021), then you’ve been expecting this! So, without further ado, let’s take a look at the newest, hottest rockstar romance novels published between July and December of this year!

July 2021 Rewind – The Price of Fate (Everhide Rockstar Romance #5), Tania Joyce Restless Beat (Love in Sienna #8), Laura John Broken Records (Sparrow Hill Stories #1), Bree Bennett The Mixtape , Brittainy Cherry At Last (Blank Space #1), Katie Rose Strings (Vixens Rock #2), Marie Lipscomb Sinner’s Grace (Sinner’s Run #2), Vera Black The Unexpected Duet (Amaryllis Romance #3), Mandy Melanson The Backstage Pass (Amaryllis Romance #4), Mandy Melanson Her Reckless Rockstar (Alton Brothers #2), Gena Snow Love Changes Rock Star Guy , Freeman Hordge (also published as author Darron Bennard and Love Story of a Rock Star Boy by Buck Tomsche, all with the same date) Rocked by the Girl Dad (Girl Dad), Mazzy King Dexter (Love & Rock ‘N’ Roll #1), Mazzy King Austin (Saints and Sinners #4), Kaithlin Shepherd Princess and Country (Carter Hills Band #2), Emmanuelle Snow Rebel Rage MC Rocker , Addy ArcherAugust 2021 Platinum (Rock Star Romance #3), Sandra Alex Strawberry Delight (A Forgotten Legacy Short Story), L. Ann Sweet Oblivion (Oblivion #1), Alexa Padgett Brit (Completely Rocked #3), Jessalyn Jameson Punk Rock Prelude (Radical Rock Stars #0.5), Jenna Galicki Married to the Band (I’m with the Band #2), Neena O’Neal Amped (Vixens Rock #3), Marie Lipscomb Finding Forever (Band on the Run #2), Lara Wynter Our Secret Song (For Love and Rock #1), Emily Childs/ Emily C. Childs The Battle to Get Her Love , Cadence Pride Zach (Love & Rock ‘N’ Roll #2), Mazzy King Rock Me (Chord Brothers #5, Rock Hard #5), M. J. Roberts/ Mariah J. Roberts Rock Steady (Kenner Brothers #1, Rock Hard #6), M. J. Roberts/ Mariah J. Roberts Rock in a Hard Place (Kenner Brothers #2, Rock Hard #7), M. J. Roberts/ Mariah J. Roberts Rock Harder (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies), Jamie Knight Smash (Trojan #3), S.M. West The Rockstar’s Omega (The Alpha Rock Stars), Hannah HazeSeptember 2021 Rise (Rock God #1), Cassandra Robbins World Tour (Rock Star Romance #4), Sandra Alex Exquisite Scars (Forgotten Legacy #4), L. Ann Shattered Chords (The Encore #3), N. N. Britt Falling in Reverse (The Seasons Change), Julia Wolf Reckless Ambition: Issue #3  (Pretty Boy Rock #6), S. R. Watson and Ryan Stacks Craving Oblivion (Oblivion #2), Alexa Padgett Sultry Oblivion (Oblivion #3), Alexa Padgett No Strings Attached , Lara Ward Cosio Chasing Alys (True Platinum #1), Morgana Bevan Freefall (The Wind & the Roar Trilogy #1), Cat Porter Whirlwind (The Wind & the Roar Trilogy #2), Cat Porter One Day Like This (Excess All Areas #1), Scarlett Cole Swoon , Lauren Rowe Our Broken Song (For Love and Rock #2), Emily Childs/ Emily C. Childs Sinner’s Word (Sinner’s Run #3), Vera Black My Rock Star (Curvy Girl Assistants #2), Lexi Swift Pretty Little Monster (Nashville’s Rebel Blood Rock Stars #1), Jamila Jasper Rockstar Baby Daddy , Piper Sullivan Fragile (Rock Stars & Romance #1), A.K. Evans Chris (Love & Rock ‘N’ Roll #3), Mazzy King Rock Hardest (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies), Jamie Knight Hot Guitarist’s Secret Baby (His Secret Baby #24), Jamie KnightOctober 2021 The Stalker (Cruise Control #4), Sian Ceinwen Red Hot Harmony (The Encore #4), N. N. Britt Rewind (Rock Hard #3), Kat Mizera Forever Oblivion (Oblivion #4), Alexa Padgett Raunchy Bride (Raunchy Recks #3), Jaxson Kidman Chasing His Tease (Rock Hard, Love Harder #2), Brandy Ayers Restraining His Runaway (Rock Hard, Love Harder #3), Brandy Ayers Knowing That It’s Us (The Breakables #3), Tylor Paige Whisperwind (The Wind & the Roar Trilogy #3), Cat Porter Backstage Pass , Allie Hayden Hexed on Halloween (Guitar Face), Sasha Marshall Faith and the Rock Star (Lake Howling #8), Lani Blake Sinner’s Vow (Sinner’s Run #4), Vera Black Oops! I Married a Rock Star , Nadia Lee The Rock Star’s Guide to Getting Your Man , Ashlyn Kane Teasing the Tyrant (Nashville’s Rebel Blood Rock Stars #2), Jamila Jasper Gideon Skye (A Rockstar Romance #1), Charley Crestland Key Change (Common Threads #3), Heidi Hutchinson Undone (Unplugged #3), Gigi Templeton Rock Me to the Top (Gracefall: Vicious Love Tour #1), Victoria Zak Wish (Rock Stars & Romance #2), A.K. Evans Dahlia’s Backstage Pass , Ethan Cobalt Nina (Love & Rock ‘N’ Roll #4), Mazzy King Rock On (Kenner Brothers #3, Rock Hard #8), M. J. Roberts/ Mariah J. Roberts Rush (Trojan #4), S.M. West Dirty Lyrics , Talita LawrenceNovember 2021 Retuned – The Price of Time (Everhide Rockstar Romance #6), Tania Joyce Nashville Dreams (Music City Lovers #3), Julie Capulet Sebastian’s Baby (Cruise Control Heroes #3), Sian Ceinwen Mack (Pushing Daisies #5), Heather Young-Nichols Breath to Bear (Blood and Bone #2), Paula Dombrowiak Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas #2), Scarlett Cole The Rhythm Method (Stage Dive #4.8), Kylie Scott Genesis (Wolf Diaries #1), L. L. Ash Rock the Line (Gracefall: Vicious Love Tour #2), Victoria Zak Closer (Rock Stars & Romance #3), A.K. Evans Underneath it All (Rock Stars & Romance #4), A.K. Evans Cherishing Doe (Rockers’ Legacy #7), Terri Anne Browning Corey (Love & Rock ‘N’ Roll #5), Mazzy King Rock On (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies), Jamie Knight Rock It (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies), Jamie Knight Tyler (Saints and Sinners #5), Kaithlin ShepherdDecember 2021 First Cut (Rock Star Romance #5), Sandra Alex Stone Cold Notes (The Seasons Change), Julia Wolf Raunchy Kiss (Raunchy Recks #4), Jaxson Kidman Remote Rockstar (Polar Bear, Alaska), Heather Dahlgren Seducing the Sadist (Nashville’s Rebel Blood Rock Stars #3), Jamila Jasper Heartbeat Girl , Michelle Gross Rocked by the Alpha (The Alpha Rock Stars), Hannah Haze Cocky Rockstar (Hero Club), Regina Frame Undone (Reckless Rockstars #1), Steph WestonTHE FOLLOWING ARE STILL ON PREORDER AS OF POSTING DATE: Jameson (Chains and Dames #2), E.M. Raegan/ Erin Raegan Broken Halo (Forgotten Legacy #5), L. Ann What the Heart Keeps (Soulmate #6), Kelli McCracken Terrible Lie (Rock Stars & Romance #5), A.K. Evans

There were a few other books that were supposed to be released (and one that looks like it was released and retracted), but I can’t find them, so I’ll add them later when I can confirm their presence. Still, this is a pretty awesome list!

It’s been a great year for new rocker romance–and I know there’s plenty of good stuff in store for ’22…just based on all the pre-orders I’ve seen. And I’ll be publishing a book in the Tangled Web series (the first since 2014!!!)…so all’s good in the land of fictional rock and roll!

You can check out the books listed for the first half of 2021 or you can see ALL THE ROCKSTAR ROMANCE BOOKS FOR ALL TIME. 2022 will be coming soon. OMG!

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Holiday Rock Star Romance Books to make you smile

Make your holidays bright and cheery with a few of these rocker Christmas stories! (The links go either to Amazon or Goodreads, so if you purchase your books on another site, you’ll have to search for them–sorry for the inconvenience!)

You’re All I Want for Christmas  (Of Love and Madness #1.5/ #4), Karen Cimms Rogue Christmas Story  (Rogue #7), Lara Ward Cosio Last Christmas  (Bound Together #1.5), Marie Coulson White Hot Christmas  (Heart of Fame #9.5), Lexxie Couper My Life as a Holiday Album (My Life as an Album #5), LJ Evans A Bulletproof Christmas  (Bulletproof #4.5/ The Holiday Collection #1), Jenna Galicki A Tempting Christmas  (Tempt My Heart #1.5), Danielle Jamie Christmas Stalkings  (Bullet #5), Jade C. Jamison Wicked Christmas  (Wicked End #0.5), Bella Jeanisse Random Acts of Christmas (Random #7), Julia Kent A Filthy Christmas (Filthy Line #6), Jaxson Kidman Rock My Christmas  (FlameSmith in Love #1), Laura Kitchell A Rockstar Christmas Wedding (West Coast Soulmates #3), Carla Krae A Very Xander Christmas 4 (Rockstar #9.6), Anne Mercier Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree: A Red Velvet Christmas Novel  (The Next Generation #4), K E Osborn There for You: A Fallen Star Christmas Story  (Fallen Star #5), Candy J. Starr A Very Damon Holiday  (Sand & Fog #8.5/ #9), Susan Ward Spirits of Christmas , Nicky Wells Big Girls Do it on Christmas  (Big Girls Do It #3), Jasinda Wilder

New Year’s Eve Midnight Mirage  (Naughty Holiday List #2), Willa Edwards A Bulletproof New Year  (Bulletproof #4.6/ The Holiday Collection #2), Jenna Galicki

Are there any Christmas rockstar romance books I missed? Please let me know! Otherwise, happy holiday reading!

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Review of The Dean’s List by Kelly Collins

If you’re a fan of Kelly Collins’s Aspen Cove series, you may not be familiar with some of her older works. I read The Dean’s List quite some time ago, and it’s high time I reviewed it. Many of my faithful readers avidly devour romance in multiple genres, so I believe they just might enjoy this steamy contemporary read!

Kelly Collins and I became friends several years ago—my star was on the way down while hers was moving up, and so we strategized together frequently (we live within an hour of each other in Colorado, so meeting was easy). What I love about Kelly is that she approached the business from multiple angles until she discovered what worked for her and she is constantly refining and perfecting her craft. But don’t get me wrong—even her earlier works will hit the spot!

It’s been some time since I talked with Kelly about her series Making the Grade (The Dean’s List is the first book of the series), but I believe she found her inspiration from a news story that she took and ran with, making the idea her own. Basically, in Kelly’s story, you get the idea of what it would be like to be a college student earning a business degree who discovers that paying the bills is easier when you get a job working as an escort in exchange for mentoring—and loads of money—from rich businessmen. In her story, we meet River and a couple of her friends (including one named Jade!) as they go into this line of work to pay for their education. Along the way, she makes another couple of friends but, worse, she also falls in love with a wealthy businessman—I say worse, because she knows it will never amount to anything. She also begins to feel used and hollow based on this temporary line of work. Jonathan, the man she’s beginning to fall for, basically lets her know that it’s never going to be anything more than what it is at the surface. Very quickly, though, it becomes evident that River and Jonathan have developed deeper feelings for one another.

We also follow the subplot of what’s going on with Jade, who is a sub in a complicated relationship. In addition, we get a good glimpse of Jade’s friend Luca, who is the protagonist in the second book of the series.

River and Jonathan heal each other. River is no longer living with her parents as she attends college, but they have spent her whole life making her feels worthless, while Jonathan makes River feel not only loved but worthy of being loved. Jonathan comes into the relationship believing he can never love again, based on losing someone in his past. The problem is River loses her heart to him pretty quickly, and it’s not long before she is head over heels—so much so that she decides to make herself exclusively available to him.

But one night of misunderstandings tears them apart, just as they were beginning to realize they didn’t want anyone else.

So will Jonathan be River’s forever man or did he simply help her heal so she could move on with her life? You’re going to have to read the book to find out for sure!

Friends, I love Kelly. I consider her a great friend and I’m so thrilled for her that her Aspen Cove series has resonated with readers—but there were other series by Kelly before Aspen Cove, and Making the Grade was about as far removed from small town Colorado as you can get (NYC!)…and there will be a Kelly after. If you want to experience what she was writing before Aspen Cove, you can start here. If you love Kelly’s writing, I think you’ll also love this story!

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Love and Christmas is live!

The final book in the Small Town Secret series is now live! Love and Christmas, just in time for the holidays!

The Small Town Secret project has been a labor of love for a couple of years now, as I’ve been rewriting old books to make them better. Love and Christmas is the end of that project, and I’ve enjoyed making those books lots better. Seriously, some of them are way better! And 2022 will be full of nothing but new stories. And I’m excited about that!

For now, though, I want to celebrate Love and Christmas. From now through Friday, the book is free, and I’d love for you to get your copy!

Amazon

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Only Santa is a good enough man for my kid. (Or me, it turns out.)

When you have a child, he becomes your whole world…so any man who wants to be close to you better be Perfect with a capital P.

When I take my son to see Santa Claus, good ol’ Saint Nick (known to the real world as JD) surprises me later with a touching gift for my boy, immediately endearing me to him. After he spends an evening with us enjoying dinner (and dessert later with yours truly), he’s back to his life and we’re back to ours.

That’s the way it was meant to be.

So why can’t I stop thinking about him? After all, my intention had never been to find a man, because they always wind up breaking your heart.

And while I comfort myself with that notion, I just can’t seem to get JD out of my head. Was he just a one-night stand or is there a chance for something more?

Love and Christmas is a steamy instalove small town romance set in Colorado, book nine in the Small Town Secrets series. Curl up by the fire with a glass of wine or a mug of hot chocolate and settle into Winchester, Colorado—where the nights are cold…but steamy!

Each book in the Small Town Secrets series can be read as a standalone.

Love and Lies, book #1, is also free through Friday!

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As always, thanks for your support!

Love and Christmas is live!

Still here? Then I’ll leave you with a little teaser!

Chapter One from Love and Christmas

Chase, my only child, was the love of my life.  He’d just turned five in November, but that birthday couldn’t compare to his excitement about Christmas.  And, because of my fond memories of how my parents had made the holidays fun when I was a kid, I couldn’t help but want my own son to enjoy the magic of holidays as well.

Up until this year, he’d had no interest in meeting Santa Claus.  In fact, when I’d take him to see Santa at the bank or a clothing store downtown in years past, he had seemed hesitant—like the way kids view clowns.  There was something inherently frightening about a stranger in red, I guessed, especially when you’re young.

But this year, Chase was jazzed about seeing the big red guy.  Unfortunately, my crazy work schedule, thanks to end-of-semester madness, had made it hard to get down to our local Walmart, which was as close as we’d get to a mall in Winchester.  Our town had been pretty isolated until several years ago when they built a store on the east end and now it was mall-like in that it had a bank, a Subway, a hair salon, and a manicure shop inside—and the bank always made a big deal out of Santa.  This year, though, instead of just having Santa appear at their downtown branch, they had him at this location as well—and here we were, Chase and I, on a Friday night waiting in line to see good ol’ Kris Kringle.  My son had a list in his head, and he’d mentioned a couple of things he wanted, things I’d managed to get (or have his grandparents purchase for him), so I was hoping his conversation with jolly old Saint Nick would solidify my gift choices.

But, God, I was bored out of my mind standing in line.  How many kids lived in Winchester anyway?  I imagined that by the time we got through the line, it would be Chase’s bedtime.  Although he wouldn’t have preschool at the daycare center tomorrow morning, I myself was exhausted and ready to put my feet up.

Christmas comes but once a year, I told myself while hoping the battery on my phone would hold out while Chase amused himself with one of the games on it.  In the meantime, though, there was only so much I could do to keep myself awake and alert—without dragging my poor kid out of there—so I just kept people watching, willing the time to pass.

One thing I’d say about Santa as we got closer—he seemed pretty attentive to the little kids.  As we approached, I noticed that he had the most beautiful crystal-blue eyes I’d ever seen on a Santa—or any man, for that matter.  His eyelashes were long and dark, too, and surrounded by the white hair and beard, I could almost picture this guy at the North Pole, ho-ho-hoing to all his little elves dressed in green.

That suit, though—I was betting it was hotter than hell and the guy was likely more miserable than I, but you wouldn’t have known it by the way he acted.  He was a natural with the kids, chuckling, smiling, asking them questions that got them talking.  I couldn’t complain about the snail’s pace of the line when I heard how good he was with the little guys.  If the tots weren’t convinced he was Kris Kringle by the time they leapt off his lap, it was through no fault of his.  Even I was beginning to buy his act, even though I could tell he was quite a bit younger than the white hair let on.

This guy should have been on stage in Denver—no, Broadway.  He was that good.

At least one thing that broke up the monotony was a reporter for our local newspaper, the Winchester Tribune.  I didn’t read it, but my dad had been a faithful subscriber when I’d been growing up, so I had fond memories of it.  The brown-haired reporter took a picture of Santa from afar and then started moving from child to child down the line, explaining that she was doing a big article for the paper, asking parents how much shopping they still had to do before quizzing the kids about what they wanted from Santa.

When she got to us, I could have hugged her.

“Hi,” she said, “I don’t know if you’ve heard my spiel—”

As much as I wanted to lie just to keep her there longer, I imagined she was getting tired of saying the same thing over and over.  She wore a Press badge on her lapel, maybe to assure people who might have otherwise thought she was a weirdo or something.  I said, “I sure did—and to answer your question, I’m almost done with my Christmas shopping.”

“Mind if I ask your little one a question or two?”

“Please—be my guest.”  If she could pry him away from my phone.

Squatting next to my son, the woman said, “Hey, bud.  My name’s Nicki.  What’s yours?”

“I’m Chase.”  At first, I thought I was going to have to ask him to hand me the phone, but he managed to make eye contact with the reporter.  I felt a little relief that my son wasn’t being completely rude.

“Are you excited to see Santa, Chase?”

His chocolate eyes lit up as if she’d asked him the most important question of his life.  “Yes.”

“What are you gonna ask the big guy for?”

The way Chase’s expression changed so quickly forced me to press my lips together so I wouldn’t grin or laugh.  This poor reporter had just stepped in doo-doo.  “I can’t tell you,” my son said, almost vehemently.

“Why not?”

“If I tell you, then Santa won’t give it to me.”

She started to suck in a breath as if to present an argument and then thought better of it.  While my little guy wouldn’t necessarily present a good case, his eyes could be quite disarming.  I knew, because I’d lost an argument or two to him.

As if she’d read my mind, she said, “I can’t argue with that.  So are you excited for Christmas?”

“Of course!”

“Are there any other presents you’re hoping to get—other than the one you’ll be asking Santa for?”

“Nah.  I always get good stuff.”

“I love that.  I hope you get lots of good stuff.”  The woman stuck out her hand and said, “Shake?”

With a grin that ate up most of his face, Chase put his little hand in hers and, after they shook, she stood.  Handing me a card, she said, “Thanks for your time and for letting me speak with your son.  My article will be in the paper on Saturday—a special edition.”

“Great.  Thanks.”

“Can I get your name as well?”

“Serena.”

“Thanks again, Serena.  Merry Christmas.”  When she paused, looking throughout the store, I figured she was deciding to scope out regular shoppers now that she’d finished with us.

Glancing at the card she’d handed me, I saw that her last name was Sosebee.  “Hey, do you have a brother named Will?”

She turned her head to me again.  “I do.  My little brother.”  Then she laughed.  “Not so little anymore.”

“I went to school with him.”

“Very cool.  Small world, isn’t it?”

“For sure.  Probably more likely small town.”

Nicki gave me a short nod.  “You got that right.  Thanks again for your time.”

As I watched her walk away, I realized I should have engaged her in more conversation to help pass the time—but, of course, she had a job to do and the line was moving, albeit slowly.  Chase tugged on my hand, holding the phone up to me, an indication that he needed me to type in my passcode again.  “You were really well behaved, bud.  Good job.”

“I have to be.  Santa’s watching.”

He made a good point.

At last, after over an hour in line, we were getting really close—and still the last in line (waiting till it was almost Christmas had helped with that, no doubt).  We’d had several kids and families take up the caboose position multiple times since we’d been there, but they hadn’t had the patience to stay.  What probably helped was the sign that let them know Santa would be there all day Saturday and Sunday—the last weekend before Christmas—but I knew, based on the time, that this guy should have already been off duty.

My youngster showed few signs of sleepiness, however, as he continued to crush candies on my Android.

After what felt like eons, Santa finally had the second-to-last youngster on his lap.  Chase stopped yawning and stood straight, wide-eyed and ready.  When he started waving at Santa, I knelt over.  “Honey, I know you’re excited to see the big guy, but we have to wait our turn.”

“I’m just waving, mommy.”

“I know, but we don’t want to distract him from the other boy’s attention.  You wouldn’t like it if that happened to you.”

Chase frowned but he got the message.  After a few seconds, he said, “Mommy, I’m gonna ask him for some LEGOs and a hammer.”

“Oh, really?”  These were gifts I’d already known about, and his grandparents—my mom and dad—had already purchased three LEGO sets for him.  I was a little saddened that we were moving from the big blocks to littler ones, but my son’s fine motor skills were developed enough that he deserved to put them to good use, even though I remembered from having a brother who’d been totally into them that they hurt like the dickens when you weren’t wearing shoes and one happened to hit your arch as you were walking over it.  But I had to pretend like I didn’t remember the presents he wanted; otherwise, what would he tell Santa?  My cute little man had no idea that Santa had already purchased the hammer, one made for a kid his age, and it was sitting under my bed along with other age-appropriate versions of tools like a screwdriver, wrench, and pliers.  “I’m sure Santa can’t wait to hear it.”

Actually, I was hoping Santa would cut the visit short.  I was hungry and tired and hoping that our slow-cooker meal at home wouldn’t be overcooked by the time we got there—especially considering I had a couple of stops I had to make in other areas of the store before we left.

The little boy who’d been in line in front of us hopped off Santa’s lap, a happy, satisfied look on his face.  Apparently, he was confident Santa was going to fulfill his every wish.  That thought made me squat and say in a low voice to Chase, “Remember, Santa can’t always give you what you ask for.”

“I know…but I have to ask anyway.”

Once again, I couldn’t fault his logic.

Until this evening, I would have sworn my child was shy—but tonight he’d chatted with a reporter and now had a huge grin on his face while marching right up to the man playing the big guy.  Santa’s eyes beamed at him, a smile evident under the white beard.  “Hello, young man.  Come on over.”

“Hi, Santa.”

I said, “This is Chase.”

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes made me feel like we were participating in a conspiracy.

Technically, we were.

“Thank you, ma’am, but I was pretty sure this guy was Chase.”  As my son scrambled up on his lap, Santa said, “Now, I know the answer to this, but what do you think?  Have you been a good boy this year?”

Damn…he was good.  Really good.  And Chase took the bait.  “I’ve mostly been a good boy this year.”  And then I heard my own words echo out of my son’s mouth.  “But I sometimes have behavior problems.”

I had to stop myself from laughing out loud and, by the looks of Santa’s eyes, so did he.

“Do you say you’re sorry when you have these behavior problems?”

“Yes.”

“Do you try not to do them again?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds like you’re trying very hard to be good.”

“I am, Santa.”

“So what do you want for Christmas, Chase?”

Another point for handsome Santa for remembering my little boy’s name.  Most people I met, it seemed, didn’t give a crap about anyone but themselves, but this guy seemed to really care about others.  I knew my son was at an impressionable young age and this encounter would likely stick with him for his lifetime.  When he was older and found out that Santa was make believe, I hoped he would remember the kindness and sweetness of this man and embrace the spirit of giving.

Personally, I was mesmerized by his gorgeous blue eyes, ones that would have made the real Kris Kringle green with envy, getting so lost in them that I almost missed what my son replied.

Chase’s brown eyes were big like saucers when he said, his voice full of hope, “I want to see my daddy for Christmas.”

“Oh…”  Santa was a little stumped by this one, and I thought I was going to die.  I’d never spoken ill of the deadbeat, no good, lying scumbag around my child, but the man already had at least eight (yes, eight!) other children by three different women, and he’d knocked up another girl just after Chase was born and ran to her as fast as he could.  I didn’t have much hope that he gave a shit about the son he had with me.  But I didn’t want to break my son’s heart or ruin any chance he had of a relationship with his father later when the no-good jerk decided to pull his head out of his ass and live up to all his responsibilities, so I’d just tried to deflect questions when Chase asked.  I wasn’t sure what else to do, except to try to make sure my bitterness didn’t come through.

Chase’s father had seven daughters.  One other son.  I’d originally hoped that would work out in Chase’s favor but nowadays I figured my kiddo was better off not having that asshole as a role model.  My son (and all that man’s kids, really) deserved better than that.  And just because my judgment had been clouded once upon a time, it wasn’t anymore.

I had to make sure I didn’t sound angry now, either.  I cleared my throat, hoping to help jolly old Saint Nick out a bit, even though my son had completely taken me by surprise. What had happened to asking for a hammer and LEGO blocks? “Honey, you know your daddy has to take care of his other family…but someday I’m sure he’ll be able to spend time with you.”  In addition to not sounding angry, I also hoped I didn’t sound as skeptical as I felt.  If I wound up seeing the man at times other than court hearings, it would be a miracle—but it might help with my anger issues.

Santa took a deep breath before saying, “Well, bud, I’ll do my best.  I can’t make any promises, because it’s not like bringing you a cool toy or something.  I’m not able to deliver people, you know?”  Chase nodded but I wasn’t sure he was completely buying it.  Cute Santa went on to say, “I want you to know I’ll do my best to get you the present you want.”

Chase was still nodding his head, and I half expected him to jump down and declare Santa to be an extreme disappointment.  Instead, his face brightened visibly and his eyes began to twinkle as he cupped his hands around his mouth.  Santa took the hint and leaned over, turning his ear toward Chase, and then my son began delivering what appeared to be a litany of non-living toys.

The poor guy playing Santa.  After hours of acting in the role of St. Nick for dozens of eager children, he was probably thinking my kid’s woes were more than he’d signed up for.  But he nodded occasionally, giving my son little affirmations until he was done.

“Is that all you want?” Santa asked.

I almost laughed.  For as long as Chase had whispered loudly in the guy’s ear, it sounded like he’d requested enough toys for three holidays.  Was that all?  Chase nodded, though.

“You sure, bud?  Santa can—”

“No, Santa.  Mommy told me you only have to get me one present.  If I’m greedy, you can’t help all the other kids around the world.”

Santa got a huge grin on his face that was easy enough to see under the white facial hair.  “Fair enough.”  Chase got a clue and slid off the guy’s lap.  “You keep behaving now, okay?”  My son indicated he understood with a quick nod of his head while Santa added, “I don’t want to find out that you decided to be super naughty at the last minute.”

“No, Santa.  I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

“Great.  ‘Cause you know I see everything you do.”

Chase tilted his head.  “Yeah, I know.  But how do you do that?”

 “I can’t tell you all my secrets, bud.”

My son smiled, walking back to me and taking my hand.  “Merry Christmas, Santa.”

“Merry Christmas, Chase.”

I also grinned, because this was a memory I’d never forget.  “Thank you so much.”

Cute Santa gave me such a sweet look—and it was all eyes, because I really couldn’t see much of the rest of his face.  He nodded, smiling, and then stood as we walked off.

Little did I know that this wasn’t the last time I’d see this man…because he was about to make my Christmas dreams come true as well.

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