by K. A. Finn
A bit of a Nomad herself, K.A. Finn has wandered around Ireland and the UK for decades before settling back in Ireland with her husband and kids (two and four legged).
Visit K.A. Finn online:
www.kafinn.com
(trailers, excerpts, artwork, playlists etc)
Facebook: kafinnauthor
Instagram: kafinnauthor
Twitter @K_A_Finn
Table of Contents
Title Page
Broken Rock (Broken Chords)
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
Epilogue
Also by K.A. Finn
Nomad Series (Space Opera)
Ares
Nemesis
Perses
Chaos
Mania
Cronus
Blackjacks Series (Paranormal Romance)
Breaking Phoenix
Copyright © 2021 by Karyn Finnegan.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotation in a book review or critical articles
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design
www.derangeddoctordesign.com
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
www.wanderbookclub.com
Model: Jonny James
Published by Cooper Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-914177-13-2
Coming soon
Broken Rock Extras
I KNOW I HAVEN’T MENTIONED any song lyrics or real bands in this book, but that doesn’t mean music didn’t play a MASSIVE part in its creation.
If you want to check out the playlist that I had blaring in the background on continuous replay while I was writing, you can find it on my website. This playlist has been on every time I wrote, edited, or just read through the book.
The bands, the songs, or the lyrics remind me of Tate and his story in some way. It’s still a playlist I listen to at least once a day and it always brings me back to Tate and the rest of the band.
I’ve also kept this book local to me. Broken Rock is set in Co. Wicklow, Ireland and every location mentioned in it is a real place. I grew up in Wicklow and still have family there so the area is so special to me and I absolutely love it. I’ve been to all the places Tate goes to. I’ve eaten from the same take-aways, sat on the same beaches, and visited the same breath-taking scenic spots.
I’ve put together a map with each of the locations mentioned in the book marked on it so you can visit and see for yourself.
If you want to check out the playlist or the aerial views of the locations, go to:
www.kafinn.com/brokenrock
Well, enough from me. I’ll leave you in Tate’s more than capable hands – have fun!
K
To Jennifer.
Without your virtual ass-kicking and woo woo editing powers,
the ‘real’ Tate wouldn’t have broken free.
Thank you x
1
Tate Archer turns off the main road and heads down the track to his parents’ farm. He opens the window, letting the sea air in to help to blow away some of his tiredness. He looks longingly at the track heading down to the beach, sorely tempted to veer off and go there instead. It would make him seriously unpopular with his family though, so he keeps driving towards the house.
The headlights on his pickup cut a path through the absolute darkness on the country lane until he turns the corner and faces his parents’ old farmhouse.
He stops the truck and leans on the steering wheel as he looks at the brightly lit house. Seems his dad went to town on the Christmas lights this year. In addition to the lights on the house, every tree lining the yard to the front is decorated. He’s even got lights hanging off the animal sheds.
Tate parks around the side of the house and shuts off the engine. He’d give anything and everything not to go in there. Even from inside the truck he can hear the Christmas party is in full swing.
God, he hates these family shindigs. The family gathering had started a few hours ago and would continue well into the early hours. It was a tradition he hated but still attended every year. It wasn’t worth upsetting his mother by refusing. He was already late which was bound to go down like a ton of bricks.
The thought of spending a few hours forcing himself to engage in polite conversation with people he has no interest talking to is as appealing as a visit to the dentist. No wonder he’s still skulking in his truck. Fuck it. The sooner he gets in there, the sooner he can disappear again.
Tate glares at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. He looks exactly how he feels. Wrecked. As well as two impressive black rings under his dark blue eyes, his short brown hair is more dishevelled than usual. A few hours with his family then he’s heading to bed.
He jumps when someone taps on his window. ‘Jesus Bria. You scared the hell out of me.’
His sister laughs and throws her arms around him before he’s fully stepped out of the truck. ‘Where the hell have you been? Mum is going nuts. You said you’d be here by seven. You’re over an hour late.’
‘I know.’
‘If you think coming late will lessen the pain for you, you’ve wasted your time. Doesn’t work that way. You’re late and everyone has noticed you’re not here. Sandy has already commented four times that you probably wouldn’t show. You’re too important or something like that.’
‘Yeah, and that’s why I don’t want to be here. It’s like a fucking backstabbing contest.’
Bria pushes her long strawberry-blonde hair back from her shoulders and takes his hand. ‘I’ll protect you, don’t worry.’
‘Great. Now I feel so much better.’ He grunts as she whacks him in the stomach then pulls her into his arms again. ‘I missed you. How’s work going?’
Bria smiles widely. ‘It’s so good. I really love it, Tate. I can’t tell you how amazing it is to be bringing in a regular salary. Working as an intern was great but having money is so much better. You know, I could use my expertise to whip your wardrobe into shape.’
Tate looks down at his boots, jeans, and shirt. ‘What’s wrong with my wardrobe?’
‘I didn’t say there’s anything wrong with it. The designer I work for has some amazing pieces. You could revamp your look with a little help from yours truly of course.’
Tate snorts as he turns away from her and walks over to the house. ‘Nice try but there’s no fucking way you or your boss are revamping anything.’
‘Can’t blame a girl for trying.’
He opens the door to the house and puts on his game face when he hears someone announcing his arrival, instantly putting up obstacles between himself and his target of the kitchen. Relatives swarm towards him and for the next few minutes he’s pulled into too many embraces to count.
Questions are fired at him from so many angles he doesn’t get a chance to answer any of them. He nearly groans aloud when his mum appears in the kitchen d
oor. She hurries towards him and gently makes her way through her family.
‘Excuse me! Back away from my son. It’s my turn for a hug.’ She pulls him down into a bear hug and squeezes him tightly. ‘Welcome back. You must be starving.’ She grabs his hand and leads him to the kitchen, politely dissuading anyone from following them.
His mother, Becca, stands back and examines him. ‘Have you been eating? You look like you’ve lost weight.’
‘We really going to have this conversation every time I’m away for a few weeks? I promise I eat, Mum.’
She grunts then pulls out a chair at the wooden kitchen table and directs him to sit down. ‘How was your flight?’
‘Fine.’
‘You look tired. You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?’
‘It’s just been a long few months. I’m looking forward to a few weeks off.’
She places a plate of lasagne in front of him. ‘I do appreciate you getting back in time for tonight. It wouldn’t be Christmas without everyone here.’
The door bursts open and he is pulled off his chair backwards, nearly sending the food in front of him flying.
‘Oh for goodness sake, Shane. Let him eat first.’
His older brother slaps him on the back and takes a couple of beers from the fridge. He passes one to Tate then sits down opposite him. ‘I’d take your time eating that. The hordes are desperate to get a piece of our superstar.’
‘Please say you’re kidding.’
Shane shakes his head. ‘Afraid not. Emma and Stacey have already picked out a few songs you’re going to sing.’
‘Who?’
Bria pokes him in the back as she walks past on her way to the fridge. ‘You haven’t been away that long. Cousins, Tate.’
He smiles and nods at her. ‘Ah. Right. Great.’
His mum squeezes his arm. ‘Just say no. I’ll find your father.’
‘I think he’s hiding in the shed.’ Shane laughs as his mum glares at him before shutting the door behind her. ‘You look wrecked.’
‘Thanks. I’ve already got that from Mum.’
Bria sits down beside Shane and leans against his arm. No way you could miss the fact the pair are related. Both have the exact same strawberry-blond hair and brown eyes. If not for the ten-year age gap you’d think they were twins.
Shane holds up his beer and taps it against Tate’s. ‘Congratulations by the way. Christmas number one for the second year running. Well done.’
‘Cheers.’ He can’t quite believe it himself. Getting to number one at Christmas last year had been completely unexpected. Getting it for a second year was taking time to sink in.
Tate stifles a yawn. He only arrived back in Ireland yesterday after touring around Europe for the last month with Broken Chords. Gregg, Dillon, and Luke had the day off, but he wasn’t so lucky. Being frontman for the band means he has the added job of going to more interviews than the others. He didn’t mind it in the least. The more publicity the band gets the better. He’d just prefer he didn’t have to get in front of a camera a few hours after getting home.
The door opens and his father, Rick, steps in. He pulls Tate into a rib-crushing hug before releasing him and dropping into a chair. ‘Welcome back. What do you think of your welcome home party?’
‘I’m trying to avoid it.’
Rick laughs. ‘You and me both. I was just ambushed by your mother. So much for hiding in the shed. I think I’m in trouble later. By the way, avoid your aunt Sandy. Half an hour about the ins and outs of her appendix operation. I can tell you the entire surgery in detail.’ He shudders and makes a face. ‘I know things about your mum’s sister I never wanted to know. And now can never forget. Oh, by the way, Bria. Your friend just arrived.’
She jumps to her feet and disappears from the room.
‘You back for long?’
Tate swallows the last forkful of dinner and nods. ‘A few weeks. I’ve got to head over to Germany mid-February.’
Rick leans back in his chair and smiles. ‘My two boys. International travellers. Couldn’t you have picked jobs that keep you closer to home? Give your mother two less things to stress about. And make my life easier,’ he adds under his breath.
Shane grins at him. ‘Canada is my home.’
‘And I live less than an hour down the road,’ Tate adds.
‘When you’re here. Don’t get me wrong. I am absolutely not complaining. You just need to have a chat with your mother about the whole worrying thing.’
‘You’re on your own with that one. I’ve tried.’
‘Tried what?’ Becca asks as she joins them again.
‘I was just telling these two that you worry when they’re away.’
‘Of course I do. Especially about this one,’ she says, gesturing to Tate. ‘I don’t know where he is from one day to the next.’
‘You’ve got my schedule so don’t even go there.’
‘I know. Anyway. I’m afraid we’ve hidden you away in here long enough. My dear family would like to see the celebrity. Don’t look at me that way. Better to get it over and done with. Like pulling off a plaster. Nice and quick.’
An hour later, Tate makes a much-needed break for the kitchen. His fucking jaw aches from all the smiling. He doesn’t want to sound like an ungrateful git, but he’s had constant celebrity stuff for the last month and he seriously needs a break from it.
He leans against the sink and smiles as he watches his mum weaving through the room with two plates of nibbles. She loves this kind of thing. Loves fussing and looking after people.
Shane joins him and nods towards a slightly unstable man who appears to be talking to the Christmas tree. ‘Gary’s enjoying the red wine as usual. Having a great old chat with the tree.’
‘As long as it doesn’t answer back, we’re good.’ Tate nudges Shane. ‘Who the hell is that with Bria?’
‘Looks like we’re about to find out.’
They stop talking as Bria approaches with a guy who looks like he’s about to piss himself. ‘Tate. Shane. This is Robbie. He’s my boyfriend.’
As if well-rehearsed, they cross their arms and stare down at Robbie. His eyes dart from Tate to Shane before settling back on Tate again. The guy swallows deeply as his eyes move over the two men.
As Bria’s brothers, it’s their job - and absolute right - to make sure the poor fucker knows exactly what would happen if he stepped out of line. The thing is, neither of them actually have to say anything to get their point across.
At six-one and six-three, the brothers look intimidating. They both work out and it shows, but it’s Tate that is getting most of the attention. Partly because, as the taller of the two, he stands out. But mostly the attention is thanks to his tattoos. The ink covered his entire upper torso, neck, and hands. It was those very tattoos that had Robbie transfixed.
Bria wraps her arm around Robbie and glares at her brothers. ‘Would you both knock it off. The intimidating stares aren’t going to work. Ignore them Robbie. They’re being asses.’
Robbie finally finds his voice. He holds out his hand but withdraws it when it isn’t taken by either of them. ‘I saw you on TV,’ he says to Tate. ‘You were on a chat show with the rest of the band.’
Tate nods. ‘What one?’
‘I don’t know. You sang a song on it.’
‘We did that on three shows recently. You’ll have to narrow it down.’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Bit pointless mentioning it then, wasn’t it?’
Bria thumps Tate in the stomach. ‘Stop it!’
They laugh and Tate slaps Robbie on the shoulder nearly sending him flying. ‘Sorry. We’re just fucking with you. Nice to meet you.’
Robbie grins. ‘Yeah. You too. I really like your music.’
‘Cheers, Robbie. Appreciate that.’
Bria leads him away, mouthing dicks at them as she walks away.
‘I don’t like him,’ Shayne mutters as Bria and Robbie disappear into the cro
wd.
‘Nope. Me either.’
Shane grabs another bottle of beer from the fridge and passes one to Tate. They clink bottles. ‘Happy Christmas.’
‘Yeah. Happy Christmas.’
His best mate Gregg stops in the doorway and holds up a bottle. ‘There you are. Heard you decided to grace us with your presence. How’d the interview go? Did it drag on or did you make sure it dragged on so you could avoid all this festive fun?’
‘It dragged on without any help from me.’
Gregg sits on the edge of the counter and takes a swig from his beer. They’d been friends for over two decades, but Gregg had only joined the band about a year ago as their drummer. He’d been an instant hit with the fans. No surprise there. Gregg was one of those people it was impossible not to like. He was always smiling, rarely got stressed about anything, and he’s an incredible musician.
Tate examines his friend as he takes another mouthful of beer. Gregg’s usually tousled dark-blond hair is combed back from his face and it looks like he’s trimmed his beard instead of letting it go where it wants.
‘Who the fuck are you trying to impress?’
Gregg sits up tall and pushes his shoulders back. ‘It’s Christmas. Nothing wrong with making an effort. Maybe you should try it. Let Bria show you there’s more in the world of fashion than just jeans and t-shirts.’
Tate narrows his eyes as he glares at his friend. ‘She’s got to you.’
‘She may have mentioned something in passing. And there’s nothing to say a little added sparkle will do the band any harm. It’ll make us stand out from the other rock bands, that’s for sure.’
Shane joins in as Gregg laughs at the look on Tate’s face.
‘I should get a photo of that. Your face is priceless. You’re too easy, mate.’
‘Just for that I’m dragging the rest of you along with me next time I’m being interviewed.’
‘Ah now that’s not how it works, buddy. Your job description is song writer, lead guitarist, lead vocalist, and the person who has to show their face in front of our adoring public as much as possible. That means you get all the tedious interviews to handle alone. Part of the deal.’
‘Thanks,’ Tate replies sarcastically while failing to stifle a yawn. ‘How the hell do you have so much energy? I’m seriously struggling.’