Thank you so much to Fresh Fiction for having us! We’re Amber Lin
and Shari
Slade, the authors of the “beautiful and sexy and bittersweet” rock star
series, Half-Life.
Our new book, ONE KISS WITH A ROCK STAR features two music stars—a bad boy
rocker and a pop princess. He’s the beast to her beauty, the leather to her
glitter, the growl to her laugh. And we love him for it!
Let’s talk about why we love these gruff rockers…
Rock stars are ALPHA. They have drive and ambition. Night after night, they take
control of the stage with sexy swagger, command the attention of thousands of
screaming fans, and hold them captivated—enthralled.
And they're EDGY. Rock stars have a reputation for being wild, thrill-seeking,
tortured souls with poet's hearts. Tattooed bad-asses. Rebels. They live outside
the boundaries of regular society and play by their own rules.
Because they're PASSIONATE about their music, and TALENTED. They can do
something very few other people can and they can do it really, really well.
That's hot.
It makes a person wonder what other things they might be good at. Singing,
dancing, rocking out on guitar...that all requires RHYTHM.
Plus, touring is hard work, with long hours and little sleep. Yet rock stars
still find time to party, because they have STAMINA.
Now imagine all that directed at an audience of one. *swoon*
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.
Excerpt from One Kiss with a Rock Star:
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.
About the Authors
Amber
Lin writes edgy romance with damaged hearts, redemptive love, and a steamy
ever after. Her debut novel, GIVING IT UP, received The Romance Review’s Top Pick, Night
Owl Top Pick, and 5 Blue Ribbons from Romance Junkies. RT Book Reviews gave it
4.5 stars, calling it “truly extraordinary.” Since then, she has gone on to
write erotic, contemporary, and historical romances.
To stay up to date with upcoming releases, sign up for her newsletter.
Shari
Slade is a snarky optimist. A would-be academic with big dreams and very
little means. When she isn’t toiling away in the non-profit sector, she’s
writing gritty stories about identity and people who make terrible choices in
the name of love (or lust). Somehow, it all works out in the end. If she had a
patronus it would be a platypus.
Sign up for her newsletter to stay up-to-date on all the latest releases,
happenings, and events.
3 comments posted.
crazy hot! did you have to try out the harness and feathers and glitter, you know, to get each moment just so?
whoa. just whoa.
(Beth Fuller 5:26pm November 16, 2014)