When Hailey crashes a Half-Life after party, she expects to find the bastard who knocked up her little sister. Instead she meets the sexy front-man who agrees to give her access to his crew if she gives him access to her body.
All Lock demands in return is three days of complete control over the Sunday School teacher. With a contract, because he’s been burned before. One misstep could send the band—and his tenuous sobriety—up in flames.
Hailey and Lock push each other’s limits… Against the penthouse window. Backstage. In the limo and on the elevator. But as the contract counts down, neither are ready for the party to end.
WARNING: This book contains a steamy sex contract, spanking, a smoking hot threesome with guy on guy action, a dirty talking rock star and the sexy Sunday school teacher who brings him to his knees.
What people are saying…
“The chemistry between Lock and Hailey is blistering. Sparks flew the first time they saw each other. It was nice to see that both main characters had issues to work through to be able to maintain a relationship between them.” – Cocktails and Books
“Three Nights With A Rock Star was right up my ally, I loved every minute of it! From the sexy lead singer Lock, to the cute mousy Hailey. I’m more than looking forward to the next book One Kiss with a Rock Star.” – Books Unhinged
“A great read with some unexpected turns that were hot! Amber Lin and Shari Slade were an amazing match in writing this book together.” – Summer’s Book Blog
“It was a fast-paced‚ tender‚ sweet and hot read.” – Rumpled Sheets Blog
“I cannot reiterate how much I enjoyed this book. If you love Rockstar romance, you will love this :)” – Perusing Princesses
“I really loved everything about the story. From the sexy rock star’s dominating person, to the longed for threesome, and the wayward beauty of how love can supersede everything in its wake! If you want to know how it ends and delve in the the most sensual and seductive story around, READ THIS BOOK! Well played, Amber Lin and Shari Slade!” – Twin Sisters Rockin’ Book Reviews
Hailey forced herself to stand still for his leisurely perusal. Even when he stood and stalked toward her, she managed to hold on to her dignity—whatever dregs she had left after donning these clothes and almost falling on her face. But his smile hit her like a blast of heat, blinding her, scalding her. He looked far too pleased with himself, like a man about to get everything he wanted. And her shaky insides warned she might just give it to him.
“What do you mean?” she asked, proud her voice didn’t quaver too much.
“You want to stay here while we’re in Chicago,” he said. “To stay here for three days, to blend in so that no one questions why you’re here. To ask questions, poke around.”
Yes, that was exactly what she wanted. So why did her nod feel like surrender? As if she’d agreed to his terms before she even knew them. But then maybe she did know what his terms would be. His eyes spoke the words his lips had yet to say. There were volumes of gold-flecked pages filled with all that sensual knowledge. They promised delight and, even better, a hard bite to the exchange. Where the men she had been with were a fresh spring breeze, he stood before her like the calm before the storm, his eyes darkening clouds.
“Can you…” She licked her lips. His gaze tracked the movement, making her feel hunted. “Can you help me?”
His expression softened. Just the slightest degree, but it was enough to slow the hammering of her heart. This was the same kind man she’d met in the lobby. Desire had given him a rough edge, turning his loping gait into a prowl, making his nostrils flare—scenting her. But he was still kind inside.
When he didn’t answer, she searched for whatever strength she might have found. You want… he’d said, listing her terms. Only his terms were left to be stated. A negotiation, then. But even as she thought the words, an image flashed through her mind, a gazelle caught from behind, the vicious beauty of her captor feasting in a National Geographic special.
“What do you want?” she whispered, and somehow the wall was at her back. He was at her front…crowding her…embracing her?
“You,” he snarled. “Under me. Over me. On your knees in front of me. I get full artistic license to your body for three days.”
His words pounded her like hail, leaving dents and then pooling in the hollows left behind. They drowned out the rest of the world and shook the floor. She began to shake too—but her gaze remained locked with his. The shaking was on the inside, fear and a strange longing warring inside her, a battle to the death. She stood frozen, caught in his sights and too terrified to run. Too curious to walk away.
He stepped back, sending a wash of crisp hotel air over her body. She sucked in a breath and immediately missed the earthy scent of him.
“And you,” he continued conversationally, “will have total access to play Nancy Drew in the hotel. That is, whenever I’m not using you.”
Her body lit up when he said the word using. It imploded on you, spoken with such self-assured possession. What was wrong with her that she wanted to be used? Maybe because she wanted to be free to enjoy sex, to really explore it, for the first time in her tame little life. Maybe because he would be the one using her, and he seemed like he would know just what to do with her.
This was a bad idea. For reasons that weren’t quite coming to her at the moment. But she knew it was bad. If she’d said it once, she’d said it a thousand times to her preschoolers: don’t make decisions when you’re angry. Though she wasn’t angry. She was concerned. And frustrated. And…
God, Chloe, why? After I worked so freaking hard so you could start college, why couldn’t you be more careful?
Okay, she might be angry.
She swallowed. So maybe this weekend could be for her too. She would find the baby’s father, but she’d also find something for herself.
With a deep breath, she struggled for levity. A lopsided tilt of her lips was all she could manage. “Where do I sign?” she joked.
His grin widened, revealing an even row of white teeth. The Cheshire cat had just such a smile. “I’m so glad you asked. I have blank copies of my contract in the side table. Right next to the lube.”
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.
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 camera man 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, 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.