One Kiss with a Rock Star (Half-Life #2)by Amber Lin & Shari Slade
Publication date: November 6th 2014
Genres: Erotica, Romance
Genres: Erotica, Romance
Synopsis:
Half-Life bassist Krist Mellas is caught in a PR nightmare after his dirty sex video blew up online. His agent has the solution: a fake engagement with sultry pop princess Madeline Fox. Krist can’t think of anything worse than a charade with the bubblegum bombshell…except losing the band.
Madeline knows better than anyone what it means to live a lie in the spotlight. She’s determined to help Krist without ever letting him find out what it costs her—or about her girlhood crush on him. But after a smoking hot back alley encounter with him leaves her breathless, she can’t deny she wants the snarling bad-boy rocker.
In a world of glitter and diamonds where the kisses are fake but the climaxes are real, their facades start to crack. And the publicity storm may shatter them both.
WARNING: This book contains a scorching threesome, a dirty talking pop princess, and a surly rocker who hits all the right notes.
One Kiss With A Rock Star
by Amber Lin & Shari Slade
Watch the wings.
He couldn't miss them. She was naked but for feathers and glitter.
Untouchable. Two grips ushered her along the catwalk and affixed her harness to
a rig in the rafters. Krist was only a few feet off the ground on his platform,
but he still felt unsteady. She was so high.
An assistant counted down, and the director shouted, “Action!”
The army of dancers below writhed to the thumping bass line of the guide
track, feet pounding the floor, but Krist only had eyes for Madeline. She
lifted her arms above her head like the ballerina in a little girl’s jewelry
box, stepped off the ledge, and twirled down, singing.
“I break my own wings.”
The power in her vocals, the edge behind the lyric, knocked him more off
balance. He'd expected her to lip sync. He'd expected her to fucking suck.
“I am falling. I am falling. Lift me up.”
All the dancers below lifted their hands in unison and swayed like the
collective force of their will would boost her higher. Cheesy pop bullshit, but
something about it worked. He didn’t want to admit it, but she had…something. She could fucking sing.
Her descent slowed. If he stretched, he could just reach her perfectly
manicured toe. Almost time.
His whole body tensed as a camera swung in his direction. He grimaced
and gripped the railing when the platform beneath him, mounted on what looked
like a cherry-picker truck, shifted closer to Madeline. The cameraman gave him
a thumbs-up. He must look sufficiently demonic.
Now. He reached for her,
grabbing her by the waist, the only part of her body unadorned, and pulled her
close. One breath and he was overcome by her scent. Spicy cotton candy.
Unexpected and strangely perfect. A second breath and he prepared to do his
damned job, to mash his lips against hers and fling her back to her adoring
throng. It was only skin. It didn’t mean anything.
Her eyes flashed mischief. Hi, she mouthed and hooked her legs
around his hips.
He froze. The producer hadn’t mentioned grinding in the rundown earlier.
She shimmied against him, and his traitorous cock responded. Do the job
you came to do.
Before he could, she bent her head and stole the kiss he’d been hired to
deliver. He couldn't help but gasp, and then her tongue, warm and electric,
invaded his mouth. Chai.
Could an angel corrupt a devil?
“I am falling. I am falling.” The guide track looped in the
background, distorted by Auto-Tune, hardly recognizable as the sultry voice
he'd just heard.
It was too much. The wet heat, her teeth grazing his bottom lip,
and the way she rocked against his crotch. It hurt to touch her, just like the devil was supposed to
react. He pushed, but she only held on tighter, digging her heels into his ass,
twisting his hair in her fingers. Sparks of pleasure-pain skittered under his
skin. She’d chosen him.
He didn’t want to want her. Wanting was a one-way ticket to
disappointment.
She raked her fingers down his back, teasing the sliver of skin between
his shirt and belt, and pressed her mouth to his ear. He shivered.
“Work with me.” She nipped him.
He could work. And if his body responded? Well, it was only biology. The
hard-on straining against his zipper was as manufactured and packaged as the
Dream Angel in his arms.
He lost himself in the pull and sway, forgot the crowd of people, the
camera, the job. Forgot everything but the taste of her, the feel of her tight
muscles under his palms, the tickle of feathers floating free.
He kissed her back, violent and hard, reclaiming what she'd taken: his
choice. Her body softened, melted around him. She moaned, giving in, an
unexpected surrender. He hadn’t missed the power she wielded over the whole
production, a queen bee to her hive. But here she was gasping and shuddering in
his arms, the rapid pulse against his chest like wings beating against glass. He
ran his tongue along hers, savoring the honey and spice.
A sound came from the sides, an urgent whisper. They wanted him to stop.
He even felt her lurch away, tugged by mechanical means, but he held tighter.
They’d have to tear her away. They’d have to hurt her to do it. For one brief
moment, he wasn’t letting go. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth. Heat to heat, and
they’d both flown too close to the sun.
The music stopped.
He pulled back, breaking the kiss, but not
the connection burning between them. “Why me?”
She blinked, hazy with lust. “Because
you're the demon.”
That's
my motivation. “No, why did you want me for this
set. I know you did.”
He needed her to say it out loud. Because you owe me. Then he could be
done. Then this could be filed away as one more task completed, one more favor
repaid. Then he could ignore the sweet ache he felt at the thought of letting
her go.
Her debut novel, Giving It Up, received The Romance Review’s Top Pick, Night Owl Top Pick, and 5 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies. RT Book Reviews gave it 4.5 stars, calling it “truly extraordinary.” She has been published by Loose Id, Carina Press, and Entangled.
Amber married her high school sweetheart, birthed a kid who’s smarter than she is, and spends her nights writing down her dirty thoughts. In other words, life is good. Come say hi back on twitter, through goodreads, or by email.
Shari Slade is a snarky optimist. A would-be academic with big dreams and very little means. When she isn’t toiling away in the non-profit sector, she’s writing gritty stories about identity and people who make terrible choices in the name of love (or lust). Somehow, it all works out in the end. If she had a patronus it would be a platypus.
Frequently found in a blanket fort, you can also find her contributing at Wonkomance, on twitter, facebook, or tumblr. For new release updates, sign up for the newsletter.
Win (1) of (3) signed copies of Three Nights with a Rock Star (the previous book in the series)
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