Kissing Vicious
Hearts of Metal #1
By Brooklyn
Ann
Publisher: Boroughs
Publishing Group
Genre: Contemporary
Romance
Release Date: August 20, 2015
Synopsis
Aspiring guitarist
Kinley Black is about to get her first big break—as a roadie for Viciöus, her
favorite heavy metal band, and for the rock god she always dreamt might make
her a woman.
THE ROADIE
At 15, aspiring
guitarist Kinley Black wished she were a boy. At 16, after hearing Quinn Mayne
sing, she wanted him to make her a woman. Now, at 22, her dreams have come
true. Quinn’s band Viciöus needs someone to lug their amps around the country,
to strive and sweat with the guys. She just has to act like one of them.
AND THE ROCK GOD
Quinn had to admit
the new chick could pull her weight, but that didn’t mean his road manager made
the right choice. Taking a hottie on a heavy metal music tour was like dangling
meat in front of a pack of feral hounds—and Quinn could be part dog himself.
But more surprising than her beautiful body are Kinley’s sweet licks, so that
no man could help but demand a jam session. Quinn will soon do anything to
possess her, and to put Kinley in the spotlight where she belongs. And to keep
her safe and sound from the wolves.
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Excerpt
“C’mon, baby, just let me feel ’em and I’ll let
you through.” The leering roadie uncrossed his arms to reach forward.
Kinley choked back a groan of revulsion and
stepped away.
Her pulse had been jacked up, her steps light
with anticipation as she’d gone backstage to interview her favorite band. This
interview would be her website’s biggest feature to date.
And now this asshole roadie was ruining her
elation with his disgusting come-ons.
“It’s not the seventies anymore. Let me
through.” She waved her laminated pass. “I have a scheduled interview.”
There. That was as diplomatic as she could be.
It wouldn’t do to piss off the crew if she wanted to talk to the band, but this
Neanderthal made it hard to be nice. With any luck, he’d back off and badger
someone else. But considering those piggy eyes and that “Female Body Inspector”
shirt, a woman would have to be desperate to allow his grimy fingers near her.
The fact that a band as awesome as Viciöus had such a prick in their employ was
beyond depressing.
She sighed. After she got her interview, it
would all be worth it. Her ears still pounded from the glorious shredding
guitar riffs, the throbbing bass, and the impossible speed of the drums. They
had been gods on stage and now she was going to meet them.
“Sorry, sugar. Rules are rules. I gotta make
sure the band’s getting Grade A titties.” With speed belying his sluggish
appearance, he shoved those sausage fingers forward, reaching for her breasts.
She swatted his hand away.
Fury boiled from her toes up. “If you touch me
again, I’ll wipe the floor with your ass.”
The roadie’s laughter, like from a cheesy
sitcom, rang in her ears. “Sounds kinky.” The moron actually stepped closer.
Kinley rolled her eyes. If it weren’t for this
once-in-a-lifetime chance, she would have answered him with an uppercut. “A
little help here?” she shouted, trying to salvage the situation.
The mass of gawkers muttered and looked in all
directions, avoiding her gaze. Some asshole in the crowd yelled, “Show your
tits!”
The roadie grinned and nodded in agreement.
“Thanks,” she muttered, embittered but
unsurprised.
After what seemed like hours of dancing out of
the caveman’s reach, a man approached. Her eyes widened. It was none other than
Curtis Scrimm, lead guitarist of Viciöus.
He pushed his dirty blond locks from his face
and grinned. “What’s going on?”
She struggled to meet his gaze while keeping one
eye on the roadie. “I have a pass, but this guy’s molesting me and won’t let me
through. Could you please tell him to stop?”
Kinley waved her laminate in case he hadn’t
noticed. He leaned forward and gazed at it with squinty, glazed eyes.
Damn. If he was high, he’d be no help at all.
The roadie gave him a pleading look. “C’mon,
Curt, she won’t play the game.”
Curt shrugged helplessly, eyes darting between
Kinley and the roadie, then back at the swarm of groupies visibly panting after
him. One already had her breasts bared.
“I’m serious,” Kinley growled. “I’ll kick his
ass if he touches me again.”
Her harasser licked his lips. “Oooh. I like it
when they fight.”
The guitarist shook his head, blinking at the
roadie. “Harry, are you drunk on the job again? I thought Gaffer warned you.
Besides, she doesn’t look like she has much anyway…” He trailed off as the
groupies slinked closer, eyes feral with curiosity.
Kinley’s chest tightened with trepidation. Where
were the other security guys? Where was the rest of the band?
The roadie reached for her again.
She jumped out of his way, stomach churning with
anxiety. Then again, maybe it was a good thing the rest of the band wasn’t here
to witness this disaster. The situation was quickly getting out of control. And
it looked like she wouldn’t be getting her interview after all.
“I’ll fuck him up,” she stammered, flipping her
braid over her shoulder. “I swear!”
Curtis chuckled, eyes roving over her body,
visibly assessing her odds. Though she was tall and fit, she was lean, and the
roadie outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. “Lady, if you can kick Harry’s
ass, you can have his job.”
Her breath left her lungs. Kinley had been
prepared to just break the roadie’s nose and walk out, but now the proverbial
carrot had been dangled.
A chance to work for Viciöus? Hell, a chance to
be back in music?
A wave of longing rushed over her to once more
be part of it all. For that pump of adrenaline, the roar of the crowd, the heat
of the stage lights—the soul searing passion of the music. To return to that
life, even if only on the fringes, Kinley would do anything.
Beating this perverted scumbag to a pulp would
be no hardship.
She dropped into a fighting stance and slightly
relaxed her fists, the better to do more damage.
One last time, she tried for diplomacy. “As much
as I’d love to work for you, it really would be better to call him off and let
me—”
Harry’s porcine hand gripped her breast.
Kinley saw red.
Her fist connected with the roadie’s nose and
she felt the satisfying crunch. He bellowed like a boar and blindly swung a
ham-like fist.
Kinley easily ducked the punch and followed up
with a knee to his gut.
He doubled over with an agonized groan but
surprised her with an uppercut that thankfully missed her jaw and instead
struck the side of her head. Kinley stumbled back, one ear ringing from the
blow, the other echoing from the noise of her audience. Are those cheers or
jeers?
Her mind struggled to unscramble. Another punch
whistled past her head and she dodged it just in time. Her heel slammed into
Harry’s kneecap and he went down shrieking.
This time Kinley didn’t give him a chance to
recover. Her fists pummeled his face like the punching bag she practiced on in
her garage.
Savage glee infused her with every strike. He
collapsed after another blow to the jaw, but she wasn’t finished. Kinley raised
her fist.
A voice rang out: “What the fuck is going on
here?”
She froze. Quinn Mayne, lead singer of Viciöus,
strode forward, his long black hair framing a chiseled, god-like face with
green eyes foreboding as a hurricane sky.
Reality crashed down upon her. Suddenly, she
could see how insane she must appear.
Meet
the Author
Formerly an
auto-mechanic, Brooklyn Ann thrives on writing Romance featuring unconventional
heroines and heroes who adore them. After writing historical paranormal romance
in her critically acclaimed “Scandals with Bite” series and urban fantasy in
her “Brides of Prophecy” novels, she now explores the chaotic realm of heavy
metal music— a difficult world to find love in.
She lives in Coeur
d’Alene, Idaho with her son, her cat, and a 1980 Datsun 210.
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