by Emme Rollins
Right.
I can only say, “What took you so long?”
“Finding your location proved to be a bitch, if you’ll pardon my language, Ms. Hall.”
“We never heard a plane overhead,” she says.
“Planes are extremely slow, Ms. Hall, although we did deploy several. We had to scan each island in this radius of several hundred kilometers, and there were plenty. And then we finally saw your S.O.S on this island via Google Map and planned our strike.”
At least that S.O.S came in handy.
Rebecca smiles up at me, and my heart goes pitti-pat.
EPILOGUE
REBECCA
I never thought there would be so many people at the airport to greet me and Kurt when we touch down in New York. I never thought that the world press would be out there, but they are all out in full force: CNN, CNBC, Fox, BBC, TV Monde, Al-Jazeera. The waiting lines literally spill out of JFK and beyond, causing a massive traffic jam.
Kurt’s band mates are out there, of course, as well as their manager and studio rep. And Kurt’s Mom. And my Mom.
We all go into a frenzy of hugging and kissing and embracing. Many tears are shed.
Then it’s out there to greet the flash mob of clicking cameras and hurled questions.
Over the next few weeks, we would be booked for more interviews than we deem possible. Some of the ransom money is repatriated, but much of it has been lost. Jai and Faora and his pirates/drug smugglers will be tried in a Bahamas court for charges of murder, kidnapping, extortion, smuggling and a host of other things. Apparently, they have been wanted by the Jamaican and Bahaman maritime police for a long, long time.
It is unnerving being Kurt Taylor’s girlfriend. Especially now that he is the most famous rock star in the world. I am thrust into a world of fame and visibility that I am not prepared for. It’s exciting, and at the same time, scary.
But there are many benefits as well.
As I look into his eyes when we make sweet love, I am reminded of how much he is willing to give up for me, of how much he is willing to commit.
“Is it time to say it now?” he whispers as he moves inside me.
This time, he is wearing a condom, but I will never forget the times we did it bare.
“Say what?” I tease.
“You know.”
“I don’t know, so you’ll have to say it.”
He arches his marvelous eyebrows. “You’re not afraid we’d be jinxed?”
“Not anymore.”
“OK. I’ll say it.” He pauses, making me wait. Then he smiles languidly. “I love you.”
I wait a beat.
“I love you too.”
He cranes his neck to look at the ceiling, all the while bucking his hips against mine.
“What’re you looking at?” I ask.
“I expected the ceiling to fall down on us.”
I laugh.
But maybe I shouldn’t have spoken too soon.
We are jinxed . . . but that is another story. Nevertheless, as of now, it is to Kurt’s new world that I gladly go into with all my heart.
About Dawn Steele
Dawn Steele is the New Adult romance pen name of Aphrodite and Artemis Hunt. Aphrodite Hunt, Artemis Hunt and Dawn Steele have had 23 books in the Top 100 Amazon Erotica, 1 book in the Top 100 Amazon Romance, 12 books in the Top 100 of the overall Barnes and Noble store and 1 book in the Top 100 Amazon New Adult.
Dawn believes that true love will conquer all, even if the circumstances appear cagey at first glance. That is why all her books have ‘Happily Ever After’ endings, although she will tease you with twisty plots and subplots to make you think this will not be so in the beginning.
Please go to http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/ to join my mailing list (for all three pen names: Aphrodite Hunt, Artemis Hunt or Dawn Steele), or email me at [email protected] . I will endeavor to update you whenever a romance is released.
ALL ACCESS
(CHASING CROSS BOOK ONE)
(A BROTHERS OF ROCK NOVEL)
By Karolyn James
(1)
Beth wasn’t sure if love actually existed, but she wrote romance novels for a living and spent her days exploring the emotions of relationships. She had to smile and live in a world that believed in it all.
Jess Carcraft stared at her laptop screen, tapping her fingers along the keyboard, considering the opening to her new romantic thriller. The publisher set a rigid deadline on the book and Jess planned on delivering it earlier, wanting to make good with both agent and publisher. After a fluke run on her first novel, she managed to deliver a second book a few months later which the publisher now prepared to launch with a big push. Her literary chance now became a literary career.
In the second bedroom of an apartment that she could easily move out of, thanks to an advance on the second book, Jess sat in the same cracked leather chair at the same old black desk her mother bought her when she moved out at age eighteen. She huddled over the keyboard with a bathrobe on, a half empty cup of coffee already too cool to enjoy, and the images of murder and love racing through her mind. The images wouldn’t come together for Jess though and she found herself ready to hit a writing wall. The opening line couldn’t be the only work she’d get done this morning - or today - so she quickly changed gears.
She dumped her coffee, changed into casual clothes, ran a brush through her hair, and brushed her teeth. As she looked in the mirror, she judged herself acceptable to go outside and face the world. Hopefully just a small version of the world.
For all the success her name had, she was rarely recognized, mostly because the picture used on her website and for her books was the same picture of Jess standing with one leg up, wearing a long black coat, her lips blood red, her hair styled like she never had it before. They wanted to capture Jess as some kind of woman detective from a television show but the only expertise in detection that Jess had was when she lost her keys. And even then, it was a fifty-fifty chance of finding the keys in a matter of minutes.
She grabbed her laptop, slid it into her laptop bag, and left the apartment.
Sometimes going to a local café was all she needed to spark an idea. Between the regulars and people she never saw before, it operated like its own world.
Plus, Jess’s debut novel started in a café, where the heroine met the hero over a cup of coffee and some casual conversation.
(2)
Johnnie stood on the balcony of the hotel, feeling the warmth of the sun as it climbed along his skin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting his body wake up. The night before had gotten a little out of hand, thanks to Danny insisting on celebrating with a bottle of whiskey.
One more show...
Johnnie could finally tell himself that.
One more show...
As the front man of chart topping rock group, Chasing Cross, the years on the road had taken their toll on everyone in its own special way. Millions of albums sold, tours that crossed the globe, awards, and most important of all, the loyal fans, were what kept the band going. While some bands saw themselves implode in the limelight of success, the guys of Chasing Cross only seemed to grow closer.
Johnnie told himself part of it was because of his younger brother, Danny. It was something extra special to have his actual brother there with him on stage every night. Each time Johnnie looked over at Danny, it took him back to their childhood as they both played guitar (horribly at that time) to their favorite songs. Separated by only a year, they were more like twins than big and little brother. Johnnie did stand an inch higher than Danny and Danny did have a more boyish look, but there was no denying the two men were brothers.
This leg of the tour was coming to an end tonight, followed by a month long break before picking back up in Spain and traveling Europe for another two months. The idea of world tour had been such a dream and now Chasing Cross did it every year or two.
Johnnie leaned against the railing and looked down at the str
eet below. He looked for inspiration, considering more about life than he ever had before. Ten years ago, when Chasing Cross started, Johnnie was in high school. They got some friends together to jam and after a couple years of changing band members, a group finally stuck. Back then, they could write about the potential of life. Big hits about parties, women, love, and learning to live. The record label just released their newest album - EightNine - less than six months ago and they were already hounding for more music. Sometimes Johnnie felt that music had become somewhat disposable, but the second he stepped on stage and saw the thousands of fans waiting, cheering, and singing every song back to him, those thoughts disappeared.
A song played in Johnnie’s head and it made him close his eyes and shake it away. It wasn’t a song for the band. It was a song for... something else. Something else that Johnnie didn’t want to think about, not right now at least. He looked over his shoulder at the partially opened door to his room, half expecting one of the guys to be standing there. Over the years, they had formed strong enough of a bond to know when something was going on with one another. Just like Johnnie made a mental note of how much Rick drank last night. It was after the show so it obviously did not affect his drumming skills, but by the end of the night, he couldn’t talk. That wasn’t social drinking, that was drinking to hide something.
Something they’d have to address on their break.
The road took its toll on everyone and that’s why the last time they negotiated a tour like this, Johnnie made it clear that they needed breaks.
Johnnie heard his cell phone ringing so he patted the railing of the hotel balcony and walked inside to get the phone.
“Hey Peter,” Johnnie said as he sat on the couch. He stretched his neck, trying to get comfortable so it didn’t feel like someone rolled a boulder onto his head.
“Great show last night,” Peter said.
Peter O’Neil had been the manager for Chasing Cross since their first demo was picked up by S-Hallow Records eight years ago. He had been like a father figure to the guys in the early days and now he was all business, all the time. He understood the changing music scene and could negotiate like a vicious animal, sometimes walking out on meetings that should have resulted in the band losing their deal. But it never happened. Peter always got his way.
“It was a good time,” Johnnie said.
“You sound like hell. You get coffee yet? We have to talk.”
“No coffee,” Johnnie said. “Room had none in it.”
“I’ll call and complain.”
“Don’t bother. I think Davey broke the television in his room. We’ll call it even.”
“Christ. You guys have to stop giving him whiskey. He’s not twenty-two anymore.”
“Yeah, neither am I.”
“Feeling old buddy?”
“If I’m feeling old, then you must feel dead.”
Peter laughed and then Johnnie heard the sounds of papers shuffling. “Listen, Johnnie, I need an answer soon. We have to decide on the charity show and then that contract I talked about...”
“Let’s meet for coffee,” Johnnie said.
“Ten minutes. There’s a place called Seven C’s about a mile from you. Sort of hidden. You be the same way. And bring security.”
Peter hung up and Johnnie rubbed his face.
Ten years ago nobody knew him. He could break a window and go to jail. Now, if he broke a window, he was cheered. Hell, he could break a window and the owner of the place would want a picture with him to tell people how Johnnie from Chasing Cross broke a window.
Funny what music and fame could do.
No matter what Johnnie needed to mask himself up a little. It didn’t take much to gather a horde of Chasing Cross fans. They could appear from nowhere and swarm. In some cities, fans were calm and collected. They treated Johnnie like a normal guy. In other cities, it was like a riot.
Bring security.
The band had security detail and a driver. Something about it rubbed Johnnie the wrong way although he understood its purpose. For protection. He grabbed his phone and made a call, ensuring the vehicle would be a standard size vehicle.
No need to pull up to a small café in a stretch limo.
After all, he wasn’t going out to impress anyone.
(3)
“You have to come to this show with me.”
Jess hated to be that person in line with a cell phone stuck to her ear, but her friend, Marie, wouldn’t stop talking. She regretted taking the phone call the second she did, but it was uncommon for Marie to call this early. All Jess could think of was Marie’s grandmother, who had a stroke last week and wasn’t in good condition at all.
“Marie, stop talking for a second,” Jess finally said, cutting in.
“What?”
“I’m in line to get coffee. I’ll call you back.”
“No. Tell me you’ll go to the show tonight. Please.”
“Marie...”
“Jessica, don’t do this to me.”
“I’ll call you back.”
Jess was one person away from being next in line. She felt bad enough already for talking on her phone, there was no way she’d order a coffee while holding the phone.
“Why did you get two tickets?”
“It was supposed to be for someone else,” Marie said. “But Ted thinks we’re moving too fast.”
Oh, damn.
“I’m sorry,” Jess said.
“I’m not. I don’t know how I feel about him. I’m not surprised through. But with this and then my grandmother... I need a night out... Jess...”
“I’ll call you in a few,” Jess said.
“I’m taking that as a yes.”
Marie hung up and Jess shook her head.
Jess didn’t want to go to a show tonight. She didn’t even ask Marie who the band was. Jess enjoyed music like anyone else did, but Marie loved such a wide range from heavy music where the lyrics were screamed all the way to classical instrumental music. With lots in between.
At the counter, Jess slipped her phone into her bag and placed her order.
Before the barista behind the counter could give her the total, a hand appeared at the counter with money.
“Add the same to that order,” a voice said.
Jess looked over her shoulder and saw what could possibly be the sexiest man she had ever seen in her life. He was tall with a defined chin, piercing eyes, and the scruff of a face in badly need of a shave. His lips were thin but curvy and as the right side started to move into a little smile, Jess felt her mouth start to open.
“On me,” the man whispered. “Just do me a favor and bring the coffee to the table in the corner.”
Jess looked back to the money. The stranger tapped the bill on the counter and then slithered away.
“Is that all?” the barista asked.
Jess eyed the man as he walked away, keeping his head down.
“I guess so,” she whispered.
Jess carried the two cups of coffee to the back table. There the stranger sat with his back to Jess, a hand near his face. He looked like he was trying to disguise himself. It worried Jess as she grew closer.
Was something wrong with him?
Was he some kind of crazy man?
Her mind thought of things she’d seen in the news, not to mention the author in her that never stopped working.
Couldn’t this be a book plot?
Strange guy in a café, eyeing people?
When he turned and Jess saw the outline of his face, she almost dropped the coffee. He was gorgeous. From the side, with the light of the sun glistening on his face, he had the look of a statue.
But he could move.
And talk.
And he did.
“Ah, thank you so much,” he said, reaching for one of the coffees.
“It’s just black,” Jess said. “Wasn’t sure how you liked it.”
“After last night, black will do the trick.”
He smiled, showing a set
of dimples that formed more dimples. His chin pulled when he smiled, and the power of his eyes starting to burn into Jess’s memory.
She swore to herself that she was memorizing the man’s sexy features for her own work. She could use a guy like this in one of her novels. But after a few seconds of gawking, she realized she teetered on the line of being creepy herself.
“Got change for me?” the man asked.
“Oh, change. No. I gave it to... the...”
“I’m only kidding,” the man said, smiling. “Here. Sit down for a minute.”
“No. I don’t want to bother you.”
“Sure you do. Sit down.”
His eyes were dark and deep. A sense of honesty came through them. Jess couldn’t believe how suddenly comfortable she felt, considering this was a total stranger. But even still, she took a step to the small round table and sat down.
Her hands were folded around her coffee. Her laptop bag still on her shoulder.
“You could put your bag down,” the man said. “I won’t bite. I promise.”
“Do you often bite people?” Jess asked.
“Only when tempted.”
He was fast. He was smooth.
Jess’s mouth ran dry.
Without breaking her stare from the man’s eyes, she lowered her laptop bag to the floor.
“Working today?” the man asked, pointing to the bag.
“Something like that,” Jess said. “I’m a writer.”
“A writer? What do you write?”
Why was this guy asking questions?
Jess tried to lift her coffee cup but found her hands were shaking. Shaking from what? Fear? Anticipation? Because the man sitting across from her had a dreamy face?
“I write books,” Jess said.
“Write books or are they published?”
“What does that mean?”
“Okay. I play guitar...”
Jess felt her heart jump. Of course a man this sexy would play guitar.
“... so that makes me a musician, right?”
Jess nodded.
“But am I recording musician? Do I get to play big shows? Make lots of money?”