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Blurb:
Brodie: My rock band has reached the pinnacle of success but fame has its price. Sooner or later, people let you down or sell you out. Except Ivan Cross. My manager, my muse, my obsession. There’s nothing in this world that I want more than Van.
And I always get what I want.
Van: Four years ago, I was selected to manage a hot new band called Wayward Lane. I knew I was in for an exciting ride - and a world of trouble - and it’s all because of their lead singer, the provocative Brodie James. We’ve always butted heads but lately, that tension is higher. When Brodie insists on an impromptu concert in New Orleans at Halloween, I make it happen. The city, the food, the music, it’s intoxicating. So is Brodie, and I’m not sure I can resist his pull any longer.
Even though Brodie could have anyone he wants, all he seems to want is me.
Punk-In is a bi-awakening, age gap, workplace, MM romance filled with sizzling chemistry, an unforgettable Halloween concert, and a HEA fit for a rockstar.
Excerpt:
I noticed Brodie’s leg tapping out a nervous rhythm and, without thinking, reached out to touch his thigh.
“You all right?” I asked, then quickly pulled my hand back.
“Yeah, you know me. These private events aren’t really my thing. I’m good with faces, but names, not so much. And I hate making small talk with the who’s who of whatever city we’re in. High rollers are usually so full of themselves.”
“Yeah, not like rockstars,” I quipped.
Brodie gave me his favorite finger.
Some things never change.
“What about after? The club? Do I have to go?”
I paused, completely surprised at his question.
Brodie loved to party and hang out with his band brothers. And he was never short of male attention when they went out. Plus, he had a day off tomorrow to recuperate from whatever shenanigans he got up to tonight.
I had the electronic NDAs loaded in my phone and ready to go.
Even though the thought of having to deal with whoever caught Brodie’s eye tonight made me ridiculously pissed off. So much so that the grip on my phone was near painful.
I usually avoided the party circuit, leaving that to their PR person. I was a shit dancer, and club music was not my jam to start with. And I tried to avoid any place where Brodie would hook up.
But now that I thought about it, he seemed to be doing that less and less…
“You don’t have to, but it’s the perfect time to blow off some steam since you have all day tomorrow to rest.”
“I don’t care about clubbing anymore. Or that whole scene.”
Was Brodie seeing someone? Was that why he didn’t want to go out and get laid like the rest of the guys?
“Have you… are you…”
Fuck, I was tongue-tied.
“What?” he asked, staring at me.
“Are you seeing someone? Is that why you don’t wanna go out?”
My question was met by silence and a glare I knew all too well.
“Are you kidding me?” he snapped.
I shrugged. “No. You’re acting out of character. I just assumed—”
“Don’t assume,” he bit out. “Have you heard me talk about anyone? Have I brought anyone around to meet the guys?”
“No but—”
“If I were seeing someone, you’d damn well know!” he snarled.
“Okay, all right. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
I wasn’t. I was unreasonably happy about Brodie’s proclamation.
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