Plowed
By Kristen Luciani & Rebecca Manuel
Genre: New Adult Rocker Romance
Release
Date: October 31, 2016
Synopsis
Sexy rock god
Daxton Cole has everything… and nothing that can bring him peace.
Music, whiskey, pills, parades of silicone-enhanced groupies keeping his bed warm at any given time… none of it soothes his wounded soul. The demons always win.
His life is a toxic existence on a permanent loop, like a bad 80s movie.
Until…
Sara Russell, the junior publicist hired to salvage his tarnished image, plows into him. Innocent, naïve, and pure, she’s the only one who can piece together what has long been shattered.
But sometimes, when you’re so broken, it’s impossible to become whole again.
And even more impossible to save anyone else.
Music, whiskey, pills, parades of silicone-enhanced groupies keeping his bed warm at any given time… none of it soothes his wounded soul. The demons always win.
His life is a toxic existence on a permanent loop, like a bad 80s movie.
Until…
Sara Russell, the junior publicist hired to salvage his tarnished image, plows into him. Innocent, naïve, and pure, she’s the only one who can piece together what has long been shattered.
But sometimes, when you’re so broken, it’s impossible to become whole again.
And even more impossible to save anyone else.
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Excerpt
“Dax, where the hell are you going?” Finn’s
question was followed by a yawn so loud, it could have woken the inhabitants of
the neighboring buses. “We have sound check in an hour.”
Daxton ran a hand through his tousled,
gel-crunched hair and pulled on a Houston Astros baseball cap. “I’m going for a
run.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak that language. Come
again?”
“I need to clear my head, okay? Buy me some
time. I’ll be back.”
“Since when do you run? Don’t you want to get
breakfast instead? Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, home fries, coffee?”
“Look, it was a shitty night. I need to get
out for a while. Alone.”
“Dude, Merrick is gonna—“
“He’ll deal. I’ll see you later.”
Daxton slid open the tour bus door, breathing
in the crisp, fresh air. Nobody in sight. Great, he finally had a chance to
escape the questions he couldn’t answer, questions he didn’t even want to
acknowledge.
The sun peeked over the clouds as he sank into
a hamstring stretch. His muscles were so tight, just like the knot that had
taken up residence at the base of his skull. Ironic. Excessive booze normally
had the opposite effect. And he’d pretty much drank himself sober after last
night’s debacle. How the hell had that guy gotten so close?
He rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to
relieve the knot. “Dammit!”
“Rough night?”
That raspy voice made him jump about twenty
feet into the air. Christ, did she know how sexy her voice sounded in the
morning? He’d love to hear it waking him up after a very sleepless night
infused with lots of carnal pleasures. Oh, fuck yeah.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sara twirled
her ponytail around her index finger, a sleepy smile on her face. The soft
morning light danced atop her head, half-hooded green eyes making his cock
twitch. Shit, even at this ungodly hour of the morning?
“I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”
“Thought you’d escape unnoticed, huh?” Sara
smirked. “I’m going for a run. Figured it was my only chance for some peace and
quiet before Merrick assigns me his list of errands for the day.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes raked over the curves
poured into hot pink spandex, mind unable to formulate a thought beyond peeling
her out of those constricting clothes. Immediately, if not sooner.
“Okay, then.”
“Okay, what?”
She grabbed her ankles one at a time, pulling
each toward to her perfect ass, stretching her quads. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t
be by yourself, anyway.”
“So you’re gonna protect me?”
Her pink lips curled into a sly smile. “It’s
my job. Now stop procrastinating and move.”
“You’re kind of pushy. Why can’t we ease into
it? Nice and slow to start?”
“Nice and slow, huh? Kind of shocking. You
don’t seem the type.”
He stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t
know what you’re implying. I was talking about running.“
“Sure you were.” She tightened her ponytail.
“Trust me, you’ll feel better once you sweat out all the alcohol.”
A slow trot increased in intensity much too
quickly, and soon, they were circling the arena parking lot at full speed. Focus,
focus, focus! His primary objective was not to collapse. A sidelong glance
confirmed Sara had barely broken a sweat since they’d started. No words were
exchanged, which was a good thing, since he couldn’t catch a single breath. A
burning sensation erupted in the pit of his belly, spreading through his lungs,
singeing his insides. His legs, now feeling more like Jell-O than actual limbs,
were on the brink of revolution. Why didn’t he grab a bottle of water? Panting
only made his mouth drier, as if it wasn’t already more arid than the Sahara at
midday. Sweat drizzled into his eyes, blurring his vision. How many more times
were they going to make this death loop?
Sara pivoted to face him, tiny beads of
perspiration glistening along her hairline, the only sign she was exerting
herself at all. Jogging backwards. Not even changing her gait. He was a step
above pathetic – a very short step.
“How is it that you can’t even make it a mile
without looking like you’re about to pass out?”
Great, he needed to speak now?
“It’s not like…I’m…Britney Spears…shaking my
ass…all over the stage.” His calf muscles ached as his sneakers pounded the
pavement. Bacon, egg, and cheese had been a very delicious alternative, and he
opted out for this self-inflicted torture? “I play guitar…and sing…doesn’t
require…cardio.” He mopped his face with the edge of the t-shirt. “How the hell…are
you…able to do this? I don’t think…your boy…friend is…keeping you…up
late…enough.”
Croaking out those last words nearly killed
him, for multiple reasons.
“You should really consider traveling with an
oxygen mask.” She flipped around, giving him a glimpse of her shapely backside,
just about the only thing keeping him going. “And, just so you know, he’s not
my boyfriend anymore.”
“Not your…boy—“ A sharp pain shot through his
foot, stopping him mid-stride. “Ahh!” His body rocketed forward, arms flailing,
sending him to the pebbly concrete lot with nothing to cushion the blow except
his pride.
Thump!
“Holy crap, are you okay?” Sara fell to the
ground where he was writhing in agony, bits of pebble mashed into his skin.
“Where does it hurt?”
He let out a loud groan and fell backward.
“Fuck. Everywhere!”
“Do you think anything’s broken?” Her hand
squeezed his and for the briefest of seconds, the presence of his very intense
pain faded, replaced by Sara’s compassion, worry, and genuine concern. Somebody
actually cared. That hadn’t happened in…shit, long enough that he couldn’t
pinpoint an amount of time. It felt nice. Until the agony crashed over him
again like a tsunami.
Sitting up was a struggle, but dammit, he was
already hovering on the brink of being a complete and total pansy ass. Ignore
the pain. Find out what happened with the boyfriend. Even a fall like that
couldn’t quell his curiosity. He had to know, even if he was going to be in
traction and unable to do anything about it for the foreseeable future.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
A look of shock flitted across Sara’s face,
quickly followed by a snicker. “Wow. Your focus is impressive, even with four
potentially broken limbs.” Her playful tone couldn’t mask her nerves, though.
She toyed with her ponytail again, normally bright green eyes darkening. “I
walked in to find Laney riding him like she was competing for the Triple
Crown.”
“Horse racing fan?”
“Yeah, we have a horse farm back home. Raised
several thoroughbreds. I always loved to ride.” She averted her eyes, but not
before he caught a glimpse of what she’d been trying to shield.
“Where’s home?”
“Minnesota.” She sat back on her heels, eyes
still guarded. Conversation over. “So, what do you think? Are you able to hoof
it back to the buses?”
“Eli is a fucking idiot.”
A slow smile brightened her flushed face.
“Agreed.” She held out a hand. “Come on, let’s see if those legs still work.”
“Are you gonna carry me if they don’t?”
“You don’t pay me enough.”
Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his
feet. “Christ, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.”
Sara snaked an arm around his waist, hoisting
him against her. “Take it slow, okay? You said you liked that.”
The scent of citrus wafted into the air
between them. So delicious, like a fruit salad. How could she still smell so
good after that run? “Yeah...I figured you’d use that against me soon enough.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Looks like we have lots of time to kill
before we make it back to camp. Shoot.”
“What happened last night? Who was the guy?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ How
the hell did she even know?
”I’m sure your little groupies love the coy
act, but I’ll pass.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Daxton, I’m part of your PR team.
It’s my job to know everything that goes on during this tour. Sean from
security told me someone approached you. I can’t do damage control without all
the facts. Who was he, and what did he want? Or, maybe a better question might
be what does he know?”
His face twisted into a grimace with each
step. The buses weren’t even in sight. With any luck, they’d make it back by
lunchtime. “You ever feel like you’re suffocating? That there’s air all around,
but you just can’t breathe it in? Like your body resists what it needs to
survive, and you feel like you’re constantly drowning? That’s how I feel most
of the time. The air, everything around me – what people see, what they want to
believe, judgments they make based on half-truths – it’s all toxic. Better not
to inhale. The lesser of two evils, but either way, I’m fucked.”
She nodded, her hair tickling his shoulder.
“I do know what you mean.” Her voice was soft, sad. There was something
beneath that snarky exterior, something he was desperate to uncover, but her
demeanor begged him not to press.
They walked for a few silent minutes that
seemed to stretch into hours. He clenched and unclenched his fists as waves of
pain assaulted his ankle. “Shit, that hurts.”
“I don’t think you should push it. Let me
call Merrick.“
“No.” He stopped, teetering on one leg.
“Please. Not yet. Can we just sit down for a minute?”
“Of course.” She eased him to the ground and
sank onto the pavement. “Is there anything I can—?”
“The guy from last night said he knew my
mother.” Daxton held his head, expelling a deep breath. “She disappeared after
my brother died last year, without a trace. Without a warning. One day, she was
there; the next, gone. With her clothes, car, jewelry. Everything…gone. My dad
made a half-hearted attempt to find her, but I was too angry to try. I’d just
lost my best friend, and my mother picked that time to bail. We should have
been there for each other, but she didn’t care enough to even say goodbye.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sara grasped his hand. Her
skin was so soft against his calloused fingers. It was an occupational hazard
for a guitarist.
“I don’t want to have anything to do with
her. She abandoned her family. Things between her and my dad were never great,
but what the hell did I ever do to her?”
“So you had security get rid of him.”
“People always have an angle, Sara.” He
raised his eyes to see the empathy reflected in her gaze. “I can’t trust anyone
because everyone has an agenda. They want to know what I can do for them, how
much I’ll pay to keep something from happening, what they can hold over my head
in exchange for things they want. Even if this guy is telling the truth, I’m
not willing to listen because nothing comes without a high price tag. Toxic.
But the problem is, even though my body tries to protect me by resisting the
urge to inhale the poison around me, I want to live, to be whole again, free
from all this useless anger and resentment. I need to breathe.” He raked a hand
through his hair. “I just can’t remember how.”
Kristen
Luciani
Kristen Luciani
is a self-proclaimed momtrepreneur with a penchant for Christian Louboutins,
Silicon Valley, plunging necklines and grapefruit martinis. As a deep-rooted
romantic who prefers juicy drama to fill the lives of anyone other than her,
she tried her hand at creating a world of enchantment, sensuality, and
intrigue, finally uncovering her true passion. No pun intended…
Other Works by Kristen Luciani
Rebecca
Manuel
Rebecca Manuel,
a.k.a. Becca the Bibliophile, is a lover of books, Fireball, Diet Dr. Pepper
and Texas Trash Pie from Royers Roundtop Café. With a deep-rooted passion for
the creative, she started the first independent short film company within the
literary industry, charged with bringing book characters and plots to life via
the Internet. She lives in Houston with her techie geek husband, two fabulous
kids, and their menagerie of furry friends.
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