Jade C. Jamison's Blog, page 34

Blast from the Past: Old House

I’m continuing my task of archiving old pages from my website. Today, we’re going to look at the old page for Old House.

In a nutshell: Ghosts can’t be real.

Kenzie Sampson is home on Christmas break during her first year in college. She’s had more than the usual trouble adjusting to her new environment away from home, but she’s not about to tell her family, who have had enough to worry about, including plenty they haven’t told her. Worse yet, Kenzie discovers that just because you don’t believe in ghosts doesn’t mean they don’t exist…and she doesn’t know how to deal with them or her own demons as she adjusts to the old house that’s her family’s new home.

Trivia: I started writing this book a long time ago but then set it down when certain elements in it weren’t working. I came back to it again when I was working on my MFA, wrote a couple of really strong chapters, and then set it down yet again. In 2012, I made Old House my NaNoWriMo project and it’s finally done. It’s also better than I’d hoped, because the original story was just going to be straight horror. This time, I figured out a great twist!

Characters:

Kenzie Sampson: A college freshman who comes home for Christmas break to live in her parents’ new home…that she is fairly certain is haunted.

Melody: Kenzie’s younger sister, Melody is free-spirited and fun, a breath of fresh air–just what Kenzie needs.

Mike: Kenzie’s younger brother.

Ellie: Kenzie’s mother, whom Kenzie suspects is–along with her father–hiding a secret.

Robert: Kenzie’s father.

Adam: Kenzie’s old high school friend, Adam and Kenzie have a lot in common, and Kenzie realizes spending some time with him would do her mental state a lot of good.

Teaser:

Kenzie dipped her brush in a couple of different colors and swirled them together a little, then placed them on the canvas and started moving the brush in tight circles at first, then in larger, looser arcs around the surface. She then picked up more paint on her brush and tried it again. And as she continued, she felt inspiration hit. She saw a face in her mind, and suddenly, that face needed to be painted.

It wasn’t a face she’d ever seen before, and yet it felt so familiar. As she continued painting, she could see the face more clearly. It was the visage of a young woman. She was probably seventeen or eighteen, but she looked older. She was a lovely dark-skinned young lady with a perfect complexion and soft, smooth cheeks, dark eyes, and wearing a…hat? No, Kenzie had to keep painting. Her hair was covered but it was by…a bonnet? She didn’t know why a bonnet, but she had to paint it just the same. It belonged on the woman.

As she continued painting the details, she saw that the girl had anger in her eyes, but it was mixed with overwhelming sadness…and something else, something Kenzie couldn’t identify. What was it? She had to keep painting.

The woman’s face ate up the entire canvas. There was no background. It was like when a photographer takes an extreme close up–the picture was all face, nothing else. Kenzie didn’t even realize that her heart rate had increased, her breathing had turned shallow, her blood pressure had risen. She was painting furiously, unaware of anything else. She wasn’t in the zone–she was way past it.

But she kept painting. As the young woman’s face became clearer and clearer, Kenzie imagined who this girl was. And as her features became more defined, so did her story, and–for some strange reason Kenzie couldn’t explain–she knew what she was finding out wasn’t fiction. It was real.

The anger and sadness in the girl’s eyes made more sense as Kenzie kept moving her hand up and down and around the canvas, her brushes loaded with paint that she’d deposit on the canvas in just the right places with just the right strokes. Kenzie somehow knew that this girl had been kidnapped and then kept as a…slave? Well, no… maybe. No, not just a slave. A sex slave. She’d been locked in a room and forced to be nothing but a warm hole for some disgusting man, and she had to do it day after day, night after night, for months, years untold. The girl had gone a bit crazy, and who wouldn’t?

Kenzie felt hot tears trailing down her cheeks, but she was still unaware. She now had an obligation, a need to tell this woman’s story through her painting, and minutes became hours as she laid one brush stroke after another upon the canvas, shaping and defining this picture, but would everyone else be able to interpret the pain Kenzie felt in the bottom of her soul for this poor young woman?

And even though she was operating on autopilot, some still rational part of her brain was analyzing the process. And that part of her brain knew exactly what was happening. Kenzie was connecting with this girl on some level, because they’d both experienced something similar. Kenzie hadn’t experienced anything nearly as horrifying as this young woman had, but she knew what it was like to be violated, used like trash, and all for a man’s sick perverted pleasure. She knew. So were they connecting somehow through the collective unconscious, uninhibited by both time and space, not to mention backgrounds and other commonalities? Kenzie had no idea how it was happening, but it was. She couldn’t explain it, but she was afraid to let it end. So she kept painting.

She didn’t know how long she’d been painting, but the albums she’d chosen on her iPod ended and Metallica started playing, pulling her out of her trance. That’s when she realized her room was dark. And as she adjusted to her surroundings, she saw that it was snowing outside her window. In fact, it was almost light outside from the glow of the clouds. Huge flakes drifted down furiously as the wind bashed them about.

Kenzie took a deep breath and realized her forehead was damp with cool sweat. Her neck was stiff. She got up off the stool and then placed her palette and the brush in her other hand on the dresser, then walked across the room so she could turn on the light switch.

Part of her was afraid to see the painting, because she knew she’d managed to capture the nuances of the girl’s face. She knew people would look at it and be immediately struck by the profound sadness in the girl’s eyes. They’d instantly feel the pain the girl had felt. Kenzie knew this had to be her best painting yet.

So when she turned on the light, she felt confused. Her eyes couldn’t make out what she was looking at. She cocked her head, inching toward the painting. It was dark, lots of blacks and dark blues but grays and a little white defining areas here and there, a reverse shading of sorts. As she got closer, she saw it was a face all right. But it certainly wasn’t the face she’d seen in her head.

The painting was…horrifying.

The face, really just a blur against a frenetic, dark background, reminded Kenzie of Edvard Munch’s painting The Scream, with its face absent of hair but with a look of terror in the eyes, accompanied by a mouth that could do nothing but form an O through which to release an emotion of fear so overwhelming, words could not describe it.

Kenzie sat back on her bed, wanting to put some distance between herself and the painting she hadn’t painted. And yet she had. Her fingers were covered in globs of acrylic colors. She’d been there the entire time. But how could she have seen herself paint one thing yet paint another? Or had she had some kind of blackout, and during that blackout created this creepy, disturbing image?

She knew she had.

She knew because when she stared at that face, that ghost-like alien face, she could see the woman’s eyes, the young girl whose face she’d been trying to capture. Those were her eyes. But how they’d made it on canvas in this form, Kenzie would never know.

The post Blast from the Past: Old House appeared first on Jade C. Jamison.

Blast from the Past: Worst Mother

I’m continuing my task of archiving old pages from my website. Today, we’re going to look at the old page for Worst Mother.

In a nutshell: Can she discover her daughter’s secret before it destroys their family?

When Randi Miller discovers that her daughter Sarah’s preteen behavior is more than typical hormonal angst, she struggles to get Sarah the help she needs while she watches the rest of her life fall apart around her. Randi has made some mistakes in her life—mistakes that she feels continue to haunt her. In trying to pick up the pieces, though, she feels that she has neglected her children; she works full-time, attends college, and maintains a casual friends-with-benefits relationship with a man she is hesitant to admit she loves, and in doing so, feels that she has missed the obvious signs that something bad has happened to her daughter.

Trivia: This book took me several years to write, and the last third of it was completely rewritten. It’s another story where justice is not served. Real life is like that, and it sucks, but we don’t always get to see the bad guy get what’s coming to him. Randi’s family doesn’t either.

How Randi resembles Jade: I worked in a video store once. It was one of my favorite jobs. (And, yes, it had a huge porn section!)

Characters:

Randi Miller: A single mother trying to balance family life, school, work, and her personal needs, and she is finding it harder and harder to do.

Justin Anderson: Randi’s friend (with benefits), a good looking no-strings-attached kind of guy. Street smart but a player, and Randi’s not sure how much she can trust him.

Sarah: Randi’s daughter. She is in middle school and is having psychological problems that her mother is not quite sure how to fix.

Devin: Randi’s son.

Kevin Campbell: Sarah’s middle school counselor who considers dating Randi.

Kent: Sarah’s father.

Mike: Devin’s father and Randi’s ex-husband, Mike is an abusive man whom Randi is glad to have out of her life.

Rebecca: Sarah’s psychologist who tries to help the girl discover what the root of her problem is.

Nancy: Randi’s (sometimes understanding) boss.

Noreen: Randi’s nosy neighbor and sometimes babysitter.

Jenny: Justin’s maybe girlfriend who tries to cause Randi lots of grief.

Teaser:

Randi went back to the kitchen and put the board game away. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she heard Justin and Sarah talking. And Sarah laughed. Randi couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard that sound. Sarah’s laugh mitigated the ire in Randy, so she was only mildly irritated when Justin came back to the kitchen. “All tucked in.” He grabbed the cigarette he’d only half-smoked and lit it again as Randi put the lid on the game. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed off.”

She shook her head. “Exactly what do you expect?”

“Aw, come on, Randi.”

The phone rang. Randi wondered who could be calling this late. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is Jenny. I wondered if Justin is there.”

Randi rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah. Just a second. I think he was just getting ready to leave.” She scowled and handed Justin the phone, mouthing the word, “Girlfriend.”

She took the game to the living room and put it the closet. She could only imagine what was being said on the other end of the phone, but Justin was growing angrier. “God, woman, I don’t have a leash attached to my neck.” He paused. “I never said we were doing anything tonight.” He smashed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. “I already told you Randi and I are friends, and you can’t stop that.” He raised his voice. “You need to get a life. One without me.”

Randi couldn’t help but smile and she tried to hide her face from Justin. He deserved this. Karmic payback. She lit another cigarette and sat on the table, swinging her legs, relishing the moment.

“Think what you want.” Justin was holding the phone with his left hand, his right hand splayed against the refrigerator but slowly moving itself into a fist. “Whatever. Know what? I’m gonna fuck the shit outta my friend now, so I gotta go. Have a great night, sweetheart.”

Randi just stared at him as he punched the off button on the phone. Great–give Jenny another reason to hate and harass her. “Thanks a lot, Justin.”

“Not you too.” The phone rang again.

She pointed at the phone in his hand. “That’s what I mean. Now she’s going to freaking call here all night.” Randi hopped off the table and took the phone from Justin. As the phone rang a third time, she turned the ringer off. “Shit.”

Justin said, “Chill out, okay. I don’t need any shit from you.”

“It’s only fair, friend.”

He grabbed her around the waist. “I wasn’t kidding, you know.”

Randi managed to maintain eye contact and licked her lips. “It’s not going to happen.” And she meant it.

He continued to look straight in her eyes. He cocked an eyebrow. “You know I usually get what I want.”

“Not tonight. You need to go home.” She didn’t have the strength to push him away and wasn’t even going to try. Instead, she turned her head away. He started kissing her neck. Damn it–he always knew what to do. But she was still angry. She was not going to let him make love to her tonight. “Knock it off, Justin.” She brought her arms up to his chest and pushed against him half-heartedly. But he continued to kiss her neck. “I said stop it.”

“I know what you need. And no matter how pissed off I made you,” he said, his left hand moving to the front of her jeans; she hadn’t even realized that her hands had stopped pushing against him and were now up at his shoulders–still not holding him but no longer pushing him away, “I know you need a good lay. The last time was with that guy.” She felt the zipper on her pants slide down. “I can’t even tell you the last time we were together. You know you can’t say no to me, Randi. You’ve never been able to tell me no.”

The post Blast from the Past: Worst Mother appeared first on Jade C. Jamison.

Blast from the Past: Fabric of Night

I’m continuing my task of archiving old pages from my website. Today, we’re going to look at the old page for Fabric of Night.

In a nutshell: Her past will haunt her until she can remember it.

Teri Conover emerges from a river late at night with amnesia. She doesn’t know how she got there, and she can’t even remember her name or her past. She’s taken in by an elderly couple and feels drawn to a good-looking stranger named Bryan, but when she returns to her old life, she finds she is already engaged to another man. Teri must choose between the two men and race against time to discover what caused her amnesia. Most important, though, she must grapple with a past that she’d just as soon forget.

Characters:

Violet/Teri Conover: A woman who emerges from a swollen rives late at night in the woods. She realizes she has amnesia and discovers that who she wants to be and who she was are two different people, and she must learn to reconcile the two.

Charise Burger: A kindly woman who invites the lost and confused Violet into her house. She takes Violet under her wing, wanting to help her.

Alex Burger: Charise’s husband.

Bryan Jennings: A stranger that Violet/Teri finds herself irresistibly drawn to.

Max: Teri’s fiance.

Lori: Teri’s sister.

Hank Cantor: Teri’s overly friendly boss.

Kelsie Berg-Cantor: Hank’s wife and Teri’s best friend.

Teaser:

Max grabbed Teri’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk. She didn’t know if she should take it back or not, but this was his evening. She decided to leave it there. To her, it felt purely platonic. There wasn’t any harm in it, she thought. She was engaged to the man. What could it hurt?

They entered the well-lit coffee shop, and Max again did the ordering for both of them–two key-lime pies and decaf house blend coffee. When they were done, they walked back to the restaurant a different way, through a small park. They stopped on a little bridge over a creek. They stood for sometime, just looking out at the downtown skyline. She felt free out here in the brisk air. Her mind wasn’t bothering her right now. Her problems with Bryan–and her amnesia–could wait.

Max couldn’t. His hand touched her cheek and he pulled her face to his. He kissed her. She let him. She didn’t know why, but she did. He embraced her and started kissing her a little more passionately. She tried to pretend that he was Bryan, but it didn’t work, and she felt the stirrings of desire. But he tasted and felt different, not what she wanted.

And another memory washed over her. The night of their first date, coincidentally. Kissing him at the bar in her kitchen. Wrapping her legs around him and pulling herself on top of his lap. Thinking the faded taste of the drink in his mouth tasted good and made her mouth water. Feeling him grow hard underneath her. And it was gone.

And she was still kissing Max here in the present. She pulled back–she didn’t push him, although her instinct wanted to. He still embraced her, but she left a little distance between them. “Max, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready.”

He looked at her for a long moment. She saw his jaw clench; she didn’t like the looks of that. But she said nothing. He drew in a long breath, and his nostrils flared slightly. Then he said, “Okay. I guess I didn’t think about that.”

They started walking back to the car again in silence. Finally, he asked, “Do you think you’ll ever be ready?”

She really didn’t know, and she said so. But something Bryan had said last night echoed in her mind… “Well, did you tell him about us?” he’d demanded. It had been a fair question. She hadn’t been honest with either man. She supposed that was perfectly in character with the old Teri. But the newborn Teri had vowed not to do that. Even if it was over with Bryan and even if Max would never know, she knew and she needed to be honest.

She sucked in a deep breath and stopped. Max faced her. “Look, Max, there’s something I need to tell you.”

His brows furrowed. She had no idea what he was thinking, but she thought she saw worry in his eyes. His voice replied, low and soft. “What?”

“I—uh–I met someone.”

He let out a slight breath and closed his eyes. He matter-of-factly repeated, “You met someone.”

“Yeah. Umm…someone I have some pretty strong feelings for.” She paused, trying to word it in a gentle way. “I didn’t know what–”

Max’s voice rose slightly. “When, Teri?”

“When? Well, it was…it was when I was gone. After I’d lost my memory. I didn’t know about us…”

He snorted in disgust and started walking away. “Like that ever stopped you before. Same old Teri.”

“Max, it’s not like that.”

He turned around and stormed back to her. “Not like what, Teri? Do you know what you were like before you lost your memory?” She was beginning to get a clue, but she didn’t say anything. “Sh*t, woman, how many times will you bust my balls before I learn?”

“Max, will you let me finish, please?”

He looked up and sighed. Then he looked at her again and said simply, “Fine.”

“I can’t speak for what I did before, okay. I still don’t have all of my memory back yet. But I wanted to be honest with you tonight.” He snorted again. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and he seemed defeated.

“Look, I got involved with this man, and–like I said–I have some strong feelings for him. But I’m not sure that it will work out. I want to find the feelings I once had for you. How can I know if this will work if I don’t know how I felt before?”

Max’s eyes softened. He nodded. “Okay, fair enough.” They started walking again without saying anything, but the tension between them was thick. They were almost to the car when Max said, “How long were you gone? A week? It took you a week to find some other guy to sleep with?”

She didn’t want to defend it. She didn’t know what to say. He opened her door and as it shut, she heard him say, “I don’t know why it surprises me. It’s not the first time.”

The drive home felt stiff. She didn’t want to talk anymore, and Max didn’t talk either. She could tell from the way he talked that she had hurt him. He said she’d done this before. How could she apologize when she still didn’t understand it herself?

When they got to her apartment, he walked her up. Outside the door, she asked if he wanted to come in for a while. After the last half hour, she hadn’t expected him to say yes, but he did.

They sat on the couch, and he said, “You said tonight that you still don’t have all of your memory back yet. Are you finally starting to remember some things?”

She nodded. “Yes. Mostly childhood stuff, but I’ve been getting little bits and pieces.”

He still seemed tense when he said, “Well, that’s good.”

She stared at her hands folded in her lap. Finally she said, “Max…back there, you said that I had done this before. Would you mind telling me about it, or would that just be too much?”

He ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t know how to put it. You’re a sex machine, Teri. I thought I couldn’t possibly ever please you, and I tried. Believe me, I tried. You were a dream girl. But you wanted variety. I wasn’t good enough. I mean, you were sleeping with your boss and two or three other guys at work. I found this out, of course, after we’d been together for a while. But I made you promise not to do it anymore. Hell, I still forgave you when I found out you were still sleeping with your boss. But you promised no other guys. I figured the boss was a gimme…you had to keep your job. But all the men, Teri? Why?”

She shook her head, unable to defend herself. “I don’t know why. I’m asking myself the same question.” She paused. “How did you know I was sleeping with all these men? Did I tell you?” It really wouldn’t have surprised her if the old Teri would have just said something like that out of spite.

“No. But for the most part, I’d have to be an idiot not to know.” He got up and walked to the kitchen. He got out a glass and poured a drink. He knew her own kitchen better than she did. He brought her a glass of wine too, but she didn’t think she wanted any. He started pacing. “Like one time, right after we got engaged, I stopped by your office to take you out to lunch. I tapped on your door and opened it. Hank was sitting in your chair, and you were under your desk. You figure it out.” Teri blushed. She had been so brazen in her former life. She found it shocking. “I knew about all the long lunches with Hank. ‘Power lunches,’ you sometimes called them, or ‘working lunches.’ They were f*cking lunches. I know about the hotel where the two of you used to eat. You didn’t spend all of your time at a dining room table. And I stopped coming over to your place without calling first–I hated seeing other guys in your apartment just wearing their underwear.”

She felt dumfounded. “I don’t know that it means anything to you, Max, but I’m sorry.” She was started to wonder why he’d stayed with her all this time. He must have really loved her.

He sat beside her. After a moment, he said, “I believe you.” He finished the wine and turned to her. “I guess the ultimate question is, do we even have a chance here? Do I have a chance?”

She looked at her hands again. “I don’t know.”

He pulled her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye. “I need to know. Do I walk away now? Or do you think you just need time to sort through everything? I can wait.”

She gazed into his eyes, trying to recapture what she must have once felt for him. She had realized over her mind’s journey that the old Teri had lots of demons…and, for some reason, sex exorcised them. She didn’t think she needed to be that way anymore. But she also didn’t know if she and Max would work. She couldn’t feel a spark. In spite of the old Teri’s insatiable sexual hunger in the past, she had once seen something in Max that had felt like forever. If she could capture that again, if Bryan was out of the picture for good…and she thought he could be…then maybe. Just maybe. “I’m not sure. I do need time. I feel so lost, Max. If you really are comfortable with giving me a little time, I think I could find out.”

He kissed her again. Still not Bryan, she noted. But she let him anyway. This could be the man she wound up marrying someday. “Maybe I could help you remember sooner. We could relive what we used to have,” he said as he placed his hand on her knee and began moving it up her thigh.

“Max, I can’t. Not right now.”

He nodded, looking sad again. “Okay.” He left soon after, and Teri was alone with her thoughts.

That night in bed, all she could think about was Bryan. He had told her that they hardly knew each other. That was true when she thought about it. She knew the sex was great, but the more she learned about herself, she realized that she was a sexual creature, and she also knew–logically–that sex alone cannot make a great relationship. So did she and Bryan have a relationship? Probably not. And facing that truth–that awful, horrible truth–made her realize that a real relationship would probably not ever exist.

So she’d better not count Max out just yet.

The post Blast from the Past: Fabric of Night appeared first on Jade C. Jamison.

Blast from the Past: Stating His Case

I’m continuing my task of archiving old pages from my website. Today, we’re going to look at the old page for Stating His Case.

In a nutshell: Samantha Paulson, Attorney at Law, finds it hard to concentrate when new client Ryan Craig sits on the other side of her desk. She finds herself immediately drawn to him against her better judgment. She is torn between her career and her feelings for him. If she follows her heart, she could have the night of a lifetime with good-looking, heart-stopping tattooed bad boy Ryan, but she could also end up disbarred. Is he worth it?

How Samantha resembles Jade: I am a certified paralegal, but I can tell you I never want to be a lawyer.

Characters:

Samantha T. Paulson: A fiercely strong lawyer, she and her friend Adam are partners of their own business. Samantha loves men, particularly tattooed men, but she doesn’t advertise that fact.

Adam Solano: Samantha’s partner, Adam was also once her lover and is now just her best friend.

Ryan Craig: A good-looking, quiet, maybe even shy construction worker, Ryan needs someone to help him find out if he’s a father or not.

Angela: Samantha and Adam’s trustworthy legal assistant.

Ed O’Malley: A nebbishy but straight-laced attorney with the DA’s office.

Teaser:

Samantha sat in her office nibbling on a muffin and drinking her first cup of office coffee for the morning with a sh*t-eating grin on her face that was hard to suppress. For the first time in weeks, she was on time to work, even with the extracurricular morning activities. Having cooled off a little, she wasn’t so sure that what had happened last night was as right as it had felt a few hours earlier. Ryan Craig’s file folder was situated in the middle of her desk, delivering a guilty verdict upon her. When she wasn’t grinning from ear to ear, she was biting her lip, worrying herself sick. She’d violated one of the Model Rules of Professional Conduct–the written code of ethics for attorneys–and now she could have her license suspended or, worse yet, she could be disbarred. It was in black and white; there was nothing gray about the paragraph covering sexual misconduct. She’d had sex with a client when there had been no prior sexual relationship, and it really didn’t matter that it was consensual. She knew the law; she knew the rules—it was her job. And yet she had willingly and knowingly done it. It had been premeditated.

Sex in the first degree. She almost giggled at the thought.

Obviously, part of her still didn’t regret it in the least.

The problem was that her logical side was at war with her emotional side; the real Samantha was fighting lawyer Samantha. And neither side was winning; they were at a draw.

So here she sat, worrying about the dilemma she’d gotten herself into. She didn’t like to bring outside problems into work, but it just so happened that this wouldn’t be a problem if not for her job. On the other hand, she wouldn’t have met Ryan if she weren’t in this line of business in the first place. And on and on went her circular way of thinking on this fine day.

It didn’t matter that maybe no one else would ever know. She’d done it. She’d violated the attorney / client trust, had used her position to seduce this man…she’d crossed the line, and there was no going back to what had been before. And would this little action just make breaking the next rule that much easier? But the voice of rebel Samantha told her, “Yeah, but you might never have had the chance if you hadn’t done it last night.” So would that have been so bad? She never would have known what she’d missed. She would’ve gotten over it.

So she sat there all morning, tapping on the computer occasionally, taking a phone call now and again, shuffling files and looking at all the work she wasn’t doing…racking up no billable time. Christ. She would have done better if she’d stayed home.

But she needed to be here…she needed to find a way to fix this; the problem was that there was no way to do it. No way out. None.

She was guilty as hell, and she knew it. She could see herself sitting in front of a panel of Bar officers…she’d always pictured them in a big hollow room that overshadowed a large table and a few chairs, judging attorneys on one side of the table with her across the room, sitting alone on a chair in the middle of big empty space. The room would be so large that voices would echo and sound louder than they really were. As she pictured the drama in her mind, she could see herself saying, “Sorry, sirs, but it was an impulse I couldn’t resist. I could just feel the masculinity rippling off him…it was something magnetic that I couldn’t pull myself away from. So, yes, sirs, guilty as charged. I f*cked him. Not once, but several times. And it was the best sex I’ve ever had. And I would do it again. It was him–I’ve never felt that way about anyone else. Honest. Please just slap my wrist, suspend my license for a year so I can play paralegal at the office and continue to help my partner…please don’t disbar me. This job is my life. So I messed up once…”

But what would she really say if she were in that situation? How could she explain what had happened? She didn’t have a clue.

She rubbed her forehead with her hand. She was in a bad way. She didn’t know what to do. If only a real tribunal hearing were as simple as the one in her head.

Sometime before lunch, she heard Adam come through the door, checking with Angela for messages before heading back to his office on the other side of the lobby. She dreaded seeing him now…after their conversation last night, she didn’t know how to handle him. Adam was a great partner, had always been a good friend…she’d let him down too.

But that was the least of her problems…now she wondered if she should tell Adam about last night or leave it be. Did he need to know? Or should she just tell Ryan she’d acted improperly, and they couldn’t be together again, at least not until his case was signed, sealed, and delivered? Her stomach grumbled at her, cursing and judging her.

Almost as though her thoughts were drawing him to her at that moment, Adam tapped on her door and walked in, sitting in the chair across from her desk. “Guess I didn’t need your advice after all…we got a plea bargain this morning. Mrs. Roberts accepted it. The DA knew she didn’t have anything other than circumstantial evidence, so Roberts got a sh*tload of probation, court costs, attorney fees…but no jail time.”

“No kidding?”

“Yeah…I think the cops found something on her lover, and they’re going to pursue the lead. I think they wanted to get this case out of the way before moving in on that. Sh*t, I don’t know if I want to handle his case…he’s a brother-in-law, for Christ’s sake. Course, he might not even want me.”

So while she sat across from the best lawyer she’d ever known, her partner of ten years, she didn’t know what else to say to the usual run-of-the-mill office stuff. “You’ll take his case if he asks, won’t you?” She felt her stomach churning–she’d been so nervous, her stomach felt like it was eating itself.

Adam’s brow furrowed, disregarding her question. “What’s wrong?”

Samantha sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to maintain eye contact. “Nothing.”

“Samantha, I know you better than that.” His concerned look turned to a look of surprise and realization. He smiled. “Never mind. I wasn’t even thinking. I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“Last night.”

“What about last night?”

“C’mon. I’m not stupid. I know you had a date last night, and Ed said he saw you mackin’ on some guy at the bar last night.”

She could feel the blood rushing to her face. “Ed O’Malley?”

“Yeah…he was assigned to the Roberts case. You know he’s got the hots for you. So he was bitching and moaning after we’d settled about how he saw you with some guy last night and wondered if I knew who he was.”

“Sh*t.”

Adam laughed, not knowing why Samantha was so concerned with this new development…he just thought she was upset that Ed was still carrying a torch for her. “Why don’t you just f*ck him once and let him get it out of his system?” She gave him an exasperated look; ordinarily, this kind of banter was typical between them–and fun. “I’m kidding.” Laughing again, he said, “But he might leave you alone then.”

She sighed. She knew now she had to tell him. It would only be a matter of time before he found out. He read the look on her face. “Come on, Samantha. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

She took a deep breath. “Sh*t, Adam, I don’t know how to tell you.”

He sat up in the chair and leaned forward. “Now you’ve got me worried. Tell me what?”

She sighed again and stood up, walking across the office to her door. She closed it and walked back to her desk. Adam knew then that something was wrong, because Samantha rarely worried if the door was open unless there were clients in the lobby. “What the hell is going on?”

She sat back at her desk and folded her hands in front of her. She looked down, feeling lower than low. So quiet that Adam had to strain to hear, she said, “Adam, the guy I was ‘mackin’ on’…he was a client.”

The look on Adam’s face changed from concern to shock. “What?”

She nodded, forcing herself to look him in the eye, her mouth screwed up to one corner. “Yeah. I slept with a client last night.”

Adam didn’t say anything at first, letting the information sink in. Then he shook his head. Adam usually had an explosive temper, something that few people other than Samantha knew was mostly an act…for juries, judges, courtroom audiences, assistant DAs or opposing attorneys…he knew how to play their intimidation to his favor, and it had always worked. But when Adam’s real emotions were involved, he was quiet…he stewed. He wouldn’t say anything for a time, and, when he finally did, his voice would be low and baritone. And Samantha could see and feel it right now. His disappointment and anger were palpable. She would have preferred it if he’d started yelling at her. But he didn’t. He finally lowered his voice when he said, “Samantha, what the f*ck were you thinking?”

She drew in a deep breath, shaking her head. “I wasn’t.”

“Obviously not.” He stood up, looking disgusted, and walked over to her window, looking out over the parking lot. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and turned around to face her. “You know you could lose your license over this.”

“I know. Don’t you think I’ve been thinking about that all morning?”

He grunted. “I hope it was worth it.”

It was, she thought. But was it really? “What should I do, Adam?”

“Hell if I know. You know better than to do that in the first place, Samantha.” He sighed. “Jesus.”

“Adam, don’t you think I’ve already thought about this? I know what I did was wrong…I just don’t know how to fix it.”

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The Vagabonds – A Radio Interview with the Teen Phenoms

This is the transcript of the Vagabonds’ first radio interview ever, Fall of 20xx, somewhere in the US with a cool radio station

DJ Russ Goodwin: Hi, gang. Rockin’ Russ is on the air, and I have here in the studio today the five young ladies that make up the rock band the Vagabonds. The first thing I’m struck by is how young they look.

No offense, ladies. Why don’t we start there? Just how old are you all?

Barbie Bennett, vocalist: Old enough to not have to answer that question.

Liz Mayer, rhythm guitar: Does it matter? Aren’t we viable musicians, no matter what our age?

Russ: Ah, Liz. You mind if I call you Liz? You have hit the nail on the head. I think it makes your music even more impressive. How many artists struggle and write and perfect their craft before they are what we consider good—or even great? Success doesn’t usually happen overnight and the Mozarts of our world are few and far between. So, let me tell you, it impresses the hell out of me that you girls aren’t old enough to vote but are rockin’ with the big boys. You don’t want to answer the question? Fine. But I think your audience respects that you are young but writing and playing music we hear from bands twice your age.

Kyle Summers, lead guitar: I’m seventeen.

Russ: Kyle, right? Okay, folks, if you haven’t listened to the Vagabonds yet, let me play a little snippet—a solo from their first single ‘Dream World’.

Second chorus, followed by guitar solo, then fade out of the Vagabonds’ first single “Dream World.”

Russ: Kyle, you wrote this solo, right?

Kyle: Yep. With some inspirational help from CJ Slavin.

Russ: As in the band Death Crunch?

Kyle: Yeah. I call him Siege.

Russ: Siege? I like that. So…you say he helped you. Helped you how?

Kyle: He kind of helped me think outside the box. You know…kind of reimagine the solo I had and just kind of…let my soul take over.

Russ: Only an artist would answer the question like that. But back to my original point. You girls are playing at a level far beyond your years. There are grown men in their forties who would kill to play like that.

Kyle: Well, they won’t get there by just dreaming, Russ. It’s hard work, man. If you don’t work for it, you won’t get it.

Russ: Ah. Tell me more about that.

Kyle: I was twelve when I first held a guitar, and it was a passion for me. I learned everything I could about playing. My mom is a music teacher, so she taught me the basics—you know, chords, sight reading music, and stuff—but I took off from there. I’d play one of my favorite bands and then try to duplicate the song. I couldn’t get enough. I devoured it, and if you—

Russ: Let’s talk about that. Who are your idols?

Kyle: Oh, God, I have so many. My main idols, though, are some of the greats, guys like Randy Rhoads, Kirk Cobain, Dimebag—

Russ: Only the dead guys. You heading that way, Kyle? What about you, Liz? Who are some of your idols?

Liz: I have a pretty diverse taste in music. Probably one of my favorite bands is the Black Eyed Peas. But then there’s Paramore. Actually, Paramore is probably one of my biggest influences. Then there’s Nirvana—I think Kyle and I agree on that one. Also Jane’s Addiction, Counting Crows, Radiohead…there are so many. I think it would take the rest of your show for me to name them all.

Russ: What about the rest of you?

Barbie: Oh. I have so many influences and so many idols. Lady Gaga is number one in my book, but then you have Madonna, oh, and Britney. And then, of course, some of the greats, Celine and Whitney.

Russ: What I’m picking up on here, ladies, is how musically diverse your tastes are.

Barbie: You got that right, Russ. Our lead guitarist is constantly moaning, “Harder, harder!” But you’ve got our rhythm girl Liz who also writes all the songs trying to do it more laid back—and that leaves little ol’ me, struggling to belt it all out in the confines of our tunes. It’s rough.

Russ: You seem to do all right.

Barbie: Thank you. It’s been some adjustment for me, but I think we’re all kind of fitting together nicely.

Russ: What’s your background, Barbie? Are you classically trained?

Barbie: I had some formal instruction, but I’m mostly self-taught. I did it by listening to the greats and imitating them. And I think the sound I bring really enriches who we are and the message we’re trying to share.

Russ: You girls are amazing.

Barbie: Thanks.

Russ: Okay, we’ve got to take a short commercial break so we can pay the bills. We’ll be right back.

Several commercials, followed by Russ introducing the full track of the Vagabonds single “She’s Okay (She’s with Me).”

Russ: All right, folks. I have with me here in the studio the ladies from the band the Vagabonds. You just heard the second single off their debut album. So, ladies, I want to ask you, even though we already talked a little about this. Your first single, “Dream World,” is fast becoming a favorite among a wide variety of listeners.  Who wrote that song?

Liz: I wrote the basis for the song, but it evolved as we went. Like Kyle said, she, with the help of CJ, rewrote the solo, but she had already changed the sound of the song a little anyway. I think you’ve already gathered that I prefer a mellower beat, a tune accessible to the masses. Kyle likes her songs hard and heavy—and I’d like to think that, together, we blend really well and have come up with a unique sound thanks to both our contributions. Barbie rewrites some of the lyrics and she’ll be doing a lot more lyric writing for our second album. And then, of course, what the hell would we do without our rhythm section? Vicki is amazing on the drums and does things I never would have dreamed—but that’s why she’s our drummer and I’m not. And Kelly too. I play bass too, but that’s not my forte—not like the way Kelly plays. I have to give Peter Cyrus, our producer, credit. The man had a vision and assembled us based on our talents, and I think he’s brilliant. We’re sitting here today because of him.

Russ: Wow, Liz, that’s nice praise for your entire team. Vicki, how do you feel about your drumming? How integral do you think it is to the sound of the Vagabonds?

Vicki Graham, drummer: Sorry—could you repeat that?

Russ: How integral do you think your drumming is to the sound of the Vagabonds?

Vicki: Oh…sometimes I feel like nobody could do what I do, but then I think, “Oh, it’s just f—— drums, you know?” Oh, sorry. I guess you’ll have to bleep me out, right? I forgot.

Russ: I think you’re too modest. What about you, Kelly? Do you enjoy being part of this band?

Kelly Cambridge, bassist: Yeah. I love these girls. A year ago, I never would have dreamed I’d be doing anything like this. I mean…I’ve played bass the last two years, starting in my jazz band at school, and I always enjoyed it, but I never in a million years would have dreamed it would be my job. And it’s the coolest job in the world!

Russ: All right. Let’s talk more about what makes you unique. Most kids your age would be in school, you know—going to classes and dances, playing sports, playing in the band, applying for college, all that jazz…and here you are, living the dream. Which one of you wants to tell me what it’s like touring for the first time?

Barbie: Oh, my God. What a blast. First of all, we get to see parts of the country where we’ve never been before. And then wow! The fans. I never would have dreamed that many people love us. It’s so cool getting to perform night after night.

Liz: I have to agree with Barbie about the fans. I’ve written lyrics for years and to have people feel something from your words—it’s priceless.

Kyle: And the music too. I agree. I never would have known what a rush it is to share with an audience. We’re so lucky to be able to experience it—there’s this bond you form with the audience that you just have no idea exists until you’re living it.

Russ: Let’s talk about that—your audience. Who are your main fans?

Barbie (laughs): Men! A lot of teenage boys but mostly young men.

Liz: We’ve got a lot of girls too.

Barbie: Yeah. It’s mostly the younger set…so when I see someone who’s balding or has gray hair, I kind of freak out. We’re definitely for younger people.

Russ: Okay, folks, I’m going to play the Vagabonds’ first single “Dream World,” and then we’ll be back with more questions.

“Dream World” by the Vagabonds plays.

Russ: That was “Dream World” by the Vagabonds, the first single off their debut album, and I’ve got these five dreamy ladies in my studio right now. For those of you who just tuned in, we’ve been talking about how they’ve taken the rock world by storm. They’re with me for a little longer, and I’m going to ask them a few more questions, and then I’m going to open up the rock lines and take a few questions from all of you. You can also hit me up on Facebook and Twitter. I’ll take a couple questions there as well.

So…rumor has it that one of you goes by a stage name, and I’ve also heard about a nickname—Sticky Vicki. How’d you get that name, Vicki? Or is it something you can talk about on the air?

Vicki: I dunno. They just started calling me that. You know—”Vicki’s the girl with the sticks” soon became “Sticky Vicki.”

Barbie: Oh, that’s not the only reason, Vicki.

Russ: Really? Do tell, Barbie.

Barbie: Well, Kyle will be the first to tell you that Vicki’s one who constantly manages to get herself in and out of sticky situations faster than I can rip off my undies.

Russ: Interesting.

Barbie: There’s one other reason, Russ, but I’m not gonna tell you because…it’s private.

Russ: I think it got hotter in here. [Barbie laughs.] I’ve heard another rumor, and I’m asking you all if it’s true. There’s talk floating around that you’re all lesbians. [Kyle laughs.] But I’ve especially heard that Liz and Barbie are the leaders of the pack. Can you confirm this?

Liz: Seriously? I didn’t come here to discuss sex. Why can’t you just ask us questions about our fucking music?

Barbie: Liz!

Russ: Oh, okay. Folks, Liz has left the building, so to speak. (Laughs.) Okay, I guess that’s my cue to take questions from the audience. We only have a few minutes left, so let me see how many I can get in. Folks, the rock lines are open, so call in. In the meantime, let me see what questions we have online. Okay, here’s one for Barbie. A Facebook user named Miguel wants to know if your hair is real. Oh, and your breasts as well.

Barbie (laughs): Those are all me, baby.

Russ: Folks, I suppose for authenticity’s sake, Barbie is yanking on her hair. It appears to be on there tight. But, no, I will not be touching your goods, Barbie. Thanks for the offer.

Barbie: Damn.

Russ: Okay, caller. You’re on the air. What question do you have for the Vagabonds?

Caller One: Well, I was wanting to ask Liz a question, so hopefully the others can answer for her. I wanted to know how long it took her to write all the songs.

Barbie: Well, I know she’d written and rewritten the ones on this album more times than you’d believe, but she seems to have hit a stride. She writes about a song a month nowadays. We’ll be ready to record our second album by the time we come off tour if that’s any indication.

Kyle: But we’re also hoping to do more collaboration with this one.

Barbie: Well, yeah.

Russ: Thanks, caller. Okay, next caller. You’re on the air. Do you have a question for the ladies in my studio today?

Caller Two: Yeah, this is for Kyle. Kyle, what’s your favorite guitar?

Kyle: Well, I learned to play on a Fender Strat, and I loved that guitar, but on the road, I’ve been playing my Gibson Flying V. It’s an amazing axe.

Caller Two: Thanks.

Russ: One more from Facebook. Jerry asks, “What is your favorite song on your album?”

Barbie: “Dream World.”

Kyle: Yeah, me too, but I also love “Monster in My Head.” I like the dark undertones of the music. It still gives me chills.

Kelly: “Dream World” is definitely kick ass, but my favorite is “Keep Me Close.”

Vicki: I’m with Kyle. “Monster in My Head” is so different and unexpected—and so real.

Russ: Okay, we have time for one more question. I got this one from Twitter. Taylor asks, “Dear Vagabonds, what advice do you have for people who want to be in a band?”

Barbie: Believe in yourself.

Kyle: We got lucky, man. I guess that’s a part of the formula, and Barbie’s right. Definitely have faith in your abilities, but my advice? Practice. They say Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was a rock star. If you want it, you can’t make it happen without getting good at playing.

Russ: All right. Big thank you to the Vagabonds for stopping by the studio today. Their show tonight with Fluidity and headliners Black Matter is sold out. But I just so happen to have two tickets left to the show. Give me a call during the commercial break and cross your fingers. Those tickets will go to caller number twelve…

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Blast from the Past: Other Books

Hi! I’m continuing my task of archiving old pages from my website. Today, we’re going to look at the old page called “Other Books.”

Jade has a lot (and we mean a lot) of s**t rattling around in that crazy brain of hers, so much so that even her rock star and Nicki Sosebee books can’t contain it all!!! Hardcore Jade fans love ’em all, and here are the other books that just can’t be contained!

Stating His Case, lawyer Samantha and tattooed construction worker Ryan, May 2011

Fabric of Night, amnesia victim Teri and down-home boy Bryan, June 2011

Worst Mother, single mother/college student Randi and bad boy Justin, November 2011

Old House, college student Kenzie and old high school friend Adam, December 2012

Finger Bang, college students Kaylee and Blaze working through her inhibitions, June 2014

Substitute Boyfriend, college instructor Elizabeth, pretend boyfriend Ridley, and substitute boyfriend Roman–which one will she choose? August 2014

 

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Blast from the Past: Be Careful What You Wish For

I am going to spend the next few weeks finishing a project I started earlier this year–archiving old website pages by changing them into posts. Today, we’re looking at the old page for Be Careful What You Wish For.

In a nutshell: Forbidden desire is just the beginning…

Jessica, a college student struggling with day-to-day bills, is given an offer she can’t refuse. A married woman who is convinced that her husband Kage is cheating on her offers Jessica enough money to repair her dying car in exchange for Jessica’s attempt to destroy the woman’s marriage.

Jessica succeeds but discovers something else—she and Kage are soulmates, destined to find each other.

But as they attempt to carve out their places in each other’s lives, Jessica finds herself plagued with doubts, and she begins to suspect that Kage is once a cheater, always a cheater. Can their relationship survive or was it doomed from the start?

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#MondayMotivation for Authors

I saw this trending tweet hashtag (#MondayMotivation) on Twitter this morning, and it was geared toward office types, but I’m on vacation from my desk job this week and thought I could stand a little push as an author—and maybe my fellow authors could stand that as well. So here are my five tasks for myself and fellow authors to help us get a great start on our writing this week.  Good luck!

Set a writing goal. But don’t just set a goal for today. Experts will tell you that a combination of short-term and long-term goals work well. I work best when I set a daily goal, weekly goal, and a project goal. If I consistently fall behind on reaching my goals, I’ll reassess them, but you have to start somewhere! Make yourself stretch a little bit toward your goal, but don’t overwhelm yourself. Your goal should be doable.  And sometimes you don’t know exactly what’s doable until you set that big goal!
Set a marketing goal. This one’s always tough for me, because every time I think I’ve figured marketing out, I find out I’m dead wrong.  Again.  That said, I’m constantly researching and also finding new opportunities. If you’ve got marketing in the bag, great! Simply set some kind of goal for yourself in regard to the topic, but if not, stretch yourself. Figure out one thing you can do this week that will make you smarter about marketing—or potentially pay off big in the long run. This goal can be purchasing a book on marketing or investing a little money in an advertising opportunity so you can see if it’s worth the cost.
Evaluate and then cut your social media time. This is a biggie for me. A couple of years ago, social media were an inexpensive (even if time consuming) way to interact with readers and promote upcoming works. With changes in algorithms and creating pay-for-display promotional opportunities, most social media have made it hard for authors to get the word out there—even when they’re willing to pay for exposure. Advertising opportunities aside, readers will read your work because there is work to read. If you’re spending all your time on Facebook writing about the croissant and coffee you just enjoyed instead of hammering out the next chapter in your book, you’ll want to evaluate just how helpful that social media is in the grand scheme of things. Set aside a certain amount of time you allow yourself to interact on those media—and then close those browser windows, roll up your sleeves, and get to writing your next novel!
Invest time in your craft. If you’ve never read a creative writing book or even just a book about writing, I’d like to ask, “Why not?” As a former writing teacher, I can’t tell you how many students wanted to write great pieces right off the bat but were unwilling to read anything, whether about the craft or something else. Set aside time to study the craft and improve your work in the process. There are plenty of free materials out there as well as actual books, but I’d set aside at least two hours a week (preferably more) dedicated to improving yourself as an author. Investing in yourself is always worth the cost. Instead of watching SOA reruns…read about how to make your dialogue more believable. If you feel like you’ve read enough about the craft to be able to teach it yourself, then read something else, whether fiction or nonfiction. Everything you read will influence you as a writer—if it’s something good, your brain will remember a technique and possibly utilize it in the future. If it’s bad…your brain will make a mental note and help you avoid what didn’t work. Either way, reading will make you a better writer.
Clean up your workspace. When you’re focused on your writing goal, it’s easy to let your workspace become cluttered. I’m bad about that. An empty coffee cup, tissues, napkins, and the like clutter my space, although I typically clean all that up daily. Instead, though, in regard to long-term clutter, you’ll find mail (both unopened and opened), promotional materials, magazines, books, mailing labels, rolls of clear packing tape, big envelopes, and lots of other JUNK strewn everywhere in my little office space. When I clean it all up and put it in its place, I feel so much better. My mind seems clearer. Maybe cleaning up your area will work the same way for you. Give it a shot. At the very least, clean up your workspace when you’ve finished for the day. If you tend to write until you’re ready to crawl into bed half asleep, then do it an hour or so before you think you’re going to poop out.

Okay, that’s all I’ve got. Time to get to work! Happy writing!

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What’s the Plan, Man?

It seems that there are a few of you who don’t know my plan for the Vagabonds trilogy. So…let me tell you where I am in the project and then what you can expect from me.

Where I am in the process:

I am in the middle of revisions on Vagabonds #1. The title of that book is On the Run. Once I’m done with revisions, I’ll send it off to beta readers for their feedback, but I’m not going to send it out to them immediately. I usually do, but due to the nature of how I’ll be publishing this trilogy, I’m going to wait a bit and there’s a reason for it (you’ll see why in a moment). Other than revisions—both my first round and then second round based on beta feedback—this book is ready to go.

I am about one-third of the way through writing Vagabonds #2 (On the Road). My goal is to write 2000 to 3000 words per day, and—for the most part—I’m keeping up. In fact, you’ll be happy to know that I’m currently ahead of schedule. That’s provided the novel keeps itself contained to my planned 75,000 words. It’s hard to say, but I think it’ll be close. I planned on all three novels weighing in at about that length, and #1 is sitting at over 72,000.

As for the third book, I have a loose plot planned, but only loose notes. Until I write the second book, I won’t know for certain how book #3 (On the Rocks) will turn out. I have yet to write the blurbs for books 2 and 3, and I don’t have covers with them yet either. I do know what’s going to happen in the book and I know the ultimate end…but I have fine details to tend to.

The plan:

So…these books won’t have cliffhangers necessarily. They are self-contained stories; that said, they have lots of loose ends and it’s quite apparent that there is more story there, and I know that makes readers uneasy. I also know lots of readers do not like to read series unless the whole story is complete…so I’m going to do something a little different. I plan (although we shall see what happens) to release book 1 and offer preorders for books 2 and 3 at the same time, and those two books will be available either one or two weeks apart. So, for example, if I released book 1 on September 21, book 2 would be available September 28 and book 3 on October 5 (unless I made them two weeks apart instead of one).

Anyway, that’s why I’m not sending my drafts to beta readers right away–I want them to experience the books the way I want readers to:  close together!

I hope that makes sense and doesn’t seem too crazy. I have big plans for this baby, and I’m glad you’re along for the ride. I can’t wait for you to read this book—like Bullet, I promise it’s going to be unlike anything else you’ve ever read.

Rock on!

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Cover Reveal and Giveaway–ON THE RUN (Vagabonds #1)

Cover of ON THE RUN (Vagabonds #1)

Giveaway–> http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/disp...

Goodreads–> https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...

Rockstar Romance, Contemporary Romance

Release Date: Late Summer 2015

Other books in the trilogy:     On the Road (#2, to be released two weeks or less after #1)

On the Rocks (#3, to be released two weeks or less after #2)

What if your dream became a nightmare?

Kyle Summers enjoys a carefree childhood traveling the countryside with her parents…until she discovers the electric guitar. When she first wraps her hand around its neck, she knows she was born to play it.

When she discovers boys, she realizes she has a second passion.

But music always comes first, and when Kyle is recruited to be part of a young all-girl band, she jumps at her chance for fame and fortune. It isn’t long before Kyle discovers that all that glitters isn’t gold. Will she survive when she discovers the dark and seedy side of the music industry—or will it ruin her for good?

Vagabonds follows one young woman’s rise to fame past the pitfalls of sex, drugs, and easy money, through fortune and success to heartbreak and betrayal. Five girls build their band The Vagabonds from nothing but a hunger to create and quickly find that they are nothing but pawns in a larger game played by managers, agents, the press, the music industry, and all manner of unscrupulous, greedy people who want to feed on their triumphs. Friendships and lives hang in the balance. Who will survive?

Excerpt

It was dark and quiet and I realized I had this man alone…all by himself and just for me. “Peter said something about trying to have our two bands do a show or two together near the end of our tour.”

My words came out fine but they didn’t sound right to my ears. “That would be cool.” My mind was other places.

His words didn’t sound right either because I think his thoughts were in the same place mine were. “Nice nose piercing by the way.”

Maybe it was unnecessary because his face was already closer to mine, but I pulled the neck of his t-shirt into the ball of my fist and said, “Would you shut up and kiss me already?” I pulled him the rest of the way to my face but he was moving too. Still, like a fucking tease, he paused with his lips just centimeters away and his eyes scanned mine. He laced the fingers of his right hand through my hair, almost as if to anchor me, and I closed my eyes. I could feel the heat of his lips before they actually touched mine, and when they did, I felt my entire body tense up and my soul began to sing. My mouth opened to take him in and his tongue traced my upper one, teasing once more, making my body tense up again. My core felt like it was vibrating and catching on fire while my insides were turning into a puddle. I could feel my heart begin to thud in my chest as though it were going to explode, and I touched his tongue with mine. Holy shit, he tasted delicious, and I knew right then that I could do this all day. But then we stopped and I sucked in a breath, and it was hard to reach the bottom of my lungs. I forced myself to relax my hand and splayed my palm against the shirt on his chest. It was then that I noticed my panties were wet.

He opened his eyes, a tiny smile turning up the corners of his lips. “That what you had in mind?”

Still hard to breathe. “Yeah.” And speak. My mind was officially blown.

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