by Lee Piper
Copyright © 2017 by Lee Piper
All rights reserved.
Editor: Cassandra Cox
Joy Editing
www.joyediting.com
Cover Design: Hang Le
By Hang Le
www.byhangle.com
Formatting: Stacey Blake
Champagne Book Design
www.champagnebookdesign.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Also by Lee Piper
About This Book
Soundtrack
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Connect with Lee
Coming Soon
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Excerpt from AS YOU WERE
For my husband, who is yet to file for divorce. I am a very lucky woman.
Mondez Series
Rock My World
Rock My Body
Reid Tate wasn’t always cold, distant, unattainable. He once cared for me. Made music with me. Gave his heart and soul to me.
Until I ruined it.
The breathtaking boy I used to love is gone. In his place is a man who wants to rip my heart apart and lay my soul bare before thousands.
He doesn’t care about the secret that will end me. His brand of retribution is ruining my band and destroying my future.
I promised myself I’d never give him the power to steal my voice again. But that’s the problem when dancing with the devil. By the time the music starts, it’s already too late.
Hallelujah, Jeff Buckley
Oxygen, Twelve Foot Ninja
Invincible, Twelve Foot Ninja
Collateral, Twelve Foot Ninja
The Mile, Dead Letter Circus
Are We Closer, Dead Letter Circus
Alien, Dead Letter Circus
Auto Rock, Mogwai
Glasgow Mega Snake, Mogwai
Folk Death, Mogwai
There’s a cock on my car.
Not the fowl variety. The long, thick, hard, vein-running-the-length-of-it, kind. It taunts me with its pulsing virility and precum beading on the tip of the crown. If cocks could talk, this one would be mocking the hell out of me.
Standing in the driveway, I glare at my van. Red-hot rage hits me harder than the sight of my defaced vehicle, and I trip in my too-tall heels. “Damn it! Jasper Dean Stirling, get your ass out here now!”
The curtain of our second-story window flickers.
Oh hell no. I’m going to kill him.
Stalking into our townhouse, I ignore the twinge from my ankle and take the stairs two at a time. Slamming open his bedroom door, I ignore the blonde scrambling to cover herself with the bedsheet while I glare at my twin brother.
“What the fuck have you done?” I ask.
He yawns, feigning ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
“What am I talking about?” At the window, I wrench the curtain to one side. “Ring any bells?”
The blonde gasps.
I gesture toward my van. “Is this retribution for last night?”
Jasper’s expression is impassive.
“It is, isn’t it?” My heels echo on the hardwood. “If you’ve got a problem with how I sang, then say it to my face.”
My brother considers me for a moment. “You want me to say it?”
“Yes, I want you to fucking say it.”
Swinging his legs out of bed, he stands. I throw up a quick prayer of thanks for boxer shorts.
“All right, I will.” He stalks over to me. “You almost cost us our chance at a million-dollar recording contract.” My eyes narrow when Jasper crosses his spray-paint-splattered arms. “You’re lucky the majority of male voters think with their dicks. Otherwise we would have been eliminated in the first round.”
The bite of my fingernails digging into my palms does nothing to ease my anger.
“And it all went to shit the moment you saw Reid Tate,” he says.
The air is sucked from my body.
“It’s been three years, sis.”
My heart thunders against my rib cage.
“Three fucking years.”
Fury rolls through me. Untamed, all-consuming. Disregarding the shooting pain from my ankle, I punch Jasper in the stomach. With a satisfying oomph, he doubles over, gasping for breath.
Hooker Barbie launches herself out of the bed. “I should go.” She retrieves her hot pants, sequined halter top, and stilettos. No underwear. Figures.
The door clicks shut behind her.
My voice is deathly quiet. “If you have a problem with how I perform, you come speak to me. And don’t pretend, not for one fucking second, to know what happened between Reid and me.” Turning, I call over my shoulder, “Make your own way to Rising Star. I’m not driving you.”
After pulling into the empty parking space, I cut the engine and gingerly slide out of the front seat. Since we need to make the most of band practice, I decide not to spend time icing my ankle. I really hope that decision doesn’t come back to bite me on the ass.
A car door slams shut behind me, and Tobias lets out a low whistle. “Your brother’s outdone himself, Shiloh.”
“Can you believe this shit? He spray painted a fucking penis on my car!”
Tobias shrugs one of his lanky shoulders. “Why are you surprised? He’s renowned for his impractical jokes.” He scratches his jaw. “Must have been pissed about last night.”
My fists clench. “How does one shitty performance justify this?” I gesture to the hairy ballsac looming over my left shoulder. It’s larger than my head.
“You gotta admit, you weren’t at your best.”
“So what if I screwed up a verse? I kept singing, didn’t I?”
“You also screwed up the chorus. And the last refrain.”
“I kept singing!”
My best friend strolls over to where I stand, hands on my hips and ankle swelling to alarming proportions. Turning, I glare the bejesus out of the monstrosity sketched onto the side of my vehicle.
Tobias places placating hands on my heaving shoulders. “Yes, you kept singing.”
“Your condescension is pissing me off. You know that, right?”
“Yep.”
Tobias drapes a long arm around my shoulders, bringing me in close to his chest. He kisses the top of my head. “We’ll think of something.”
His proximity is a soothing balm, and the tension coursing through my body slowly dissipates. Pulling away, I gaze into the clear green eyes of the best person I know. “We always do.” I clear my throat. “You good?”
He gives a small smile. “Yeah, today’s a good day.”
“I’m glad.”
Tobias draws me in again, sniffing my head. “What’s with your hair? Why does it smell weird?”
I push him off me, mumbling, “Burned it.”
“How the fuck do you burn hair?”
Stepping out of his hold, I wince when I put weight on my ballooning ankle. “With a straightener whose heat levels rival the surface temperature of Mercury.”
“Are you limping?”
Through clenched teeth, I bite out, “Yes. The precum blindsided me.”
Tobias snorts but quickly covers it up with a cough. “Tough day, huh?”
“You’ve got no idea.”
His eyes roam Jasper’s X-rated artwork, amazement mixed with admiration in his features. He shakes his head. “Gotta admit, the kid’s got talent.”
I inspect the phallus taking up the entirety of the side panel of my van. “Yeah.” I sigh. “The jerk pulled a damn Banksy on me.”
We’re both silent, taking in my brother’s freakish talents.
Tobias points, his finger following the lines of Jasper’s handiwork. “I really like what he’s done with the shaft.”
Grudgingly, I nod. “The head is good too. So detailed.”
“And that vein…”
I hum in agreement.
Tobias lifts his chin. “I’m man enough to admit I’ve never seen a better looking cock.”
“I have.” I freeze. I’m pretty sure you could fry bacon on my cheeks. Hell, there would still be enough heat to cook up eggs afterward.
Tobias’s gaze slides to mine, alight with amusement. Thankfully, he remains quiet.
As though my foot-in-mouth conjures the very man whose penis surpasses even Jasper’s artistic talents, Reid Tate appears, striding down the front steps of Rising Star like a god sent to test the virtue of every woman on Earth. I gasp, then try to pass it off as a sneeze and end up sounding as though I swallowed my own tongue.
Reid ambles over to his wagon two cars down. Testosterone oozes from his pores, leaving me so flustered I have no idea where to look. My chipped nail polish will have to do.
Tobias’s greeting is warm. Traitor. “Hey, man. What’s up?”
Reid moves over to where we stand. Next to a twelve-foot penis. Fuck my life.
Raising my chin, I watch, mesmerized, as those long, tattooed fingers push wavy blond hair behind his ears. My gaze travels the corded muscles of his forearms and biceps, marveling at the way his ink sparks to life with each movement. His tight black T-shirt stretches across broad shoulders, and when my eyes finally land on his face, I can’t stop staring at his lips. Full, plump, masterful lips. I still remember their taste.
Nope, not going there.
He doesn’t glance in my direction. Instead, Reid smirks at Tobias. “Broke my sticks.”
When I cross my arms, my breasts almost break the fitted V-neck shirt encasing them. The pulse at the base of Reid’s neck jumps, but other than that, he remains impassive. Despite feeling as wanted as a yeast infection, I try to match his disinterested expression.
“Do you need some more?” Tobias retrieves a new pair of hickory drumsticks from the back pocket of his jeans. “Here, take these. I’ve got spares in my car.”
After a pause, Reid nods, accepting the proffered gift. “Thanks, appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
Reid’s gaze takes in my van. Seconds later, his wolf-gray eyes slam into me. My heart stops, my knees question their purpose in life, and the roar of the ocean swells in my ears. I think I’m dying.
“Been thinkin’ about me, darlin’?”
Definitely dying.
Tobias throws his head back, laughing. Gritting my teeth, I glare at my soon-to-be ex-best friend. With a nod in Tobias’s direction and no regard whatsoever for the mayhem he caused in my panties, Reid saunters back inside. Unbelievable.
A red Ford Fiesta pulls up at the curb. There’s no way Jasper would be caught dead driving a car like that, so I can only assume one of his many fuck buddies drove him. For once, I’m thrilled at the sight of my pain-in-the-ass twin. Even from where I’m standing, I can hear the latest chart-topping pop song emanating from the speakers. I shudder, muttering about the evils of auto-tuning.
Jasper hops out of the passenger side, opens the trunk, and like a minicar full of clowns at the circus, pulls his oversized battered guitar case, amp, and leads from the vehicle. He shuts the trunk and winks at who I assume is Hooker Barbie before striding toward us.
I don’t know how he does it, but Jasper always lands on his feet. He’s like a cat. A cat I want to neuter.
When Jasper stops in front of me, his expression is sincere. “Are we good?”
“Are you bruised?”
Eyeing me warily, his free hand rubs his stomach. “Yep.”
I nod. “Then we’re good.” He’s about to move past, but I hold up one finger with a sly smile, stopping him. “Provided you clean my car.”
Tobias whispers in my ear.
My smile widens. “In a mankini.”
Half an hour later, Tobias finishes setting up his Pearl Reference Series drum kit. It’s beautiful, with black shells, chrome hardware, and shiny brass cymbals. Jasper plugs his bass guitar into the pedal board before standing, giving me a rueful grin. I wink, then continue warming the strings of my own guitar, loving the sensation of my fingers skimming the fret board.
After taking my time tuning the instrument, I nod, happy with the sound. “Let’s make some music.” I look at Tobias. “Ready?”
Just as he’s about to answer, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. After glancing at the screen, his gaze narrows. There are two people in Tobias’s life who continuously fuck him over, but only one does it via text.
When Tobias catches my eye, I mouth, “Tiffany?”
He gives a sharp nod. Then, after putting his phone away, twirls his drumsticks between his index and middle fingers, the wood spinning so fast it becomes a blur. “I’m in the mood for letting off some steam. Since I don’t have a drink handy, I’m gonna pummel the hell out of these skins. You guys with me?”
“Sure am.” Jasper grins.
I sigh. “Right, let’s do a level check, then we’ll get started.”
We play the first minute of our song. My voice is strong, husky. The boys have told me it’s pure sex. Considering I always lose myself in the music, it’s hard to know the effect I have on listeners. Since they’re usually gaping at me with a glazed expression by the time the final note fades, I take it as a positive sign.
During the chorus, our mix is okay, but my head is elsewhere. Truth be told, I worry for Tobias. His choice in girlfriend sucks ass.
“Damn it, sis.”
Christ on a cracker.
“You know this chord progression. You fuckin’ wrote it. Get your shit together already.”
“Okay, okay.” I kick off my heels, grimacing. I need to center myself, to focus. For some reason, being barefoot does this, even if it is in a storeroom posing as rehearsal room five. After taking a deep breath, I nod. “Let’s go from the breakdown again.”
I count the boys in, and boom, a wall of sound surrounds me. The guitars are dirty, the drumbeats are heavy, and we feed off each other’s energy. I love this part of our song because we all let loose as the intricate layers we’re creating blend into something truly awesome.
When the chord progression
peaks, I throw my head back and expel a controlled scream straight from my diaphragm.
Nailed it.
My vocals are both in time and in tune with the music. A part of me is surprised the roof is still on. Relishing the feeling that comes from hitting a note just right, I lose myself in the remainder of the song, throwing everything I have into it. When the final bars fade through the amps, the boys and I are silent, grinning at each other.
If the sweat trickling down my spine is anything to go by, we must look as if we’ve waged a war on a commando course and lost. But damn, it feels good.
This is what I live for.
This is why we need to win Rising Star.
Making music with my band—hell, sharing our passion with the world—would be the ultimate reward for the shitstorm we’ve been through the past three years. Throughout everything—the pain, the grief, the despair—singing has been my one constant. If only—no. I’m not going to think about it. No good will come from it if I do.
“The voters are gonna blow their load over this song.”
Tobias grins at my brother. “We’ll make it through to the next round for sure.”
My smile is strained as a familiar ball of angst forms in my stomach. The hand on the neck of my guitar tightens.
“That million dollar contract is ours if we keep this up,” Jasper grins.
Both boys train their eyes on me. I gulp. Then choke on my own spit.
When I finally manage to clear my airway, Jasper is still staring at me. “We need this, sis.” His chocolate-brown eyes pierce a hole straight through me. “We’ve got so much riding on this competition.”
Images of me spending the rest of my working days at Doughnut Delights flashes through my head. Chocolate sauce splattered on the ceiling. Regurgitated marshmallow stuck to the floors. And sprinkles. So. Many. Goddamn. Sprinkles.
Raising my chin, I refuse to break eye contact. “I won’t fuck this up.”
“On behalf of the team at Rising Star Talent Quest, I would like to congratulate you on making it through to the second round.” Director, Vivienne Heywood’s collagen-filled lips stretch over incandescent teeth.