by Milly Taiden
“Even as much money as you’re making right now,—” he said.
Rhiannon felt the ka-ching in her head because, when she had signed her new, year-long contract last week, the money had gotten holy-cow way better.
Jonas finished his sentence, “—managers make more.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“No, listen,” Jonas said. “I take my percentage off the top. I’ve taken three bands to success, and they’re still paying me royalties before the label takes their cut. I can afford to live like this,” his arm wave took in the Moet champagne in the silver ice bucket, the enormous, glistening suite in the middle of Manhattan, and the white-gloved butler wiping the glasses before he poured the wine,— “every day for the rest of my life. I had planned to retire after Killer Valentine, but I can’t resist working with you, so I won’t retire.”
“You’re twenty-seven,” she said, stating the obvious, but he was.
“Yep,” he said, “and I’m set for the rest of my life. You can take a look at my bank accounts if you want, but I’ve got millions stashed away. Lots of millions.”
“Holy cow, Jonas.” She had been all ecstatic when her savings account, her brand new savings account, had gotten to ten thousand. “But I don’t want to look at your bank accounts. That’s weird. And if you want to retire, you should.”
He shrugged. “If I hadn’t found you, I’m such a workaholic that I know that I would have been back in the bars in a month, looking for another potential client. I say things like I might retire, but I probably can’t. The point is: let me pay for this.”
“Well, okay. If you insist.” Rhiannon was kind of impressed, despite thinking that she should be all anti-materialistic and feminist-minded. She should at least pay her own way, especially since now she could actually do that.
“You’ve got to get used to me paying for things, anyway.”
That was weird. “Why is that?”
“I’m your manager, or I will be, once we sign a contract. The manager fronts costs until the band makes money.”
“Oh, okay.” She really needed to read a book or something about how the business end of all this worked.
He said, “So I’ll pay for recording studios, living expenses, instruments, costumes, down-payments on venues, whatever you need.”
Rhiannon dropped one eyebrow, incredulous. “How in the name of God did you make so much money while paying for everything?”
“Recoupable expenses,” Jonas said. “I get paid back. Don’t worry about me. I’d like to go over some other paperwork with you, though, one that I’d like you to sign soon.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s look at it.”
The waiter left, and the hotel room door closed with a small click behind him.
Jonas twisted, his broad shoulders spinning, and he dug into his briefcase behind him on the couch. When he turned back, he clutched a single sheet of paper in his hand.
That was weird. The Killer Valentine contracts had been massive documents, but she didn’t think anything about it. Jonas was the manager. He had done this before. She trusted him, so she took the paper and reached for a pen.
The top of the paper read Application for Marriage License.
The paper in her hands trembled like an earthquake. “What’s this?”
Jonas slid off the couch beside her, kneeled, and pulled a jewelry box from his pocket. “Rhiannon Hope Macallen,” he began.
“Oh, good Lord,” Rhiannon said, but she was already holding out her left hand, fingers outstretched.
He grabbed her hand and held it in his strong fingers. His pale green eyes searched hers, and he said, “I’ve only known you for three months, but we’ve lived together and worked together for almost every minute of that time. Your talent and your heart drew me, and it feels like I fell in love with you a lifetime ago. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, every minute, every night. Wherever you go, I’ll go, too. We should be together, always, no matter what. Marry me, Rhiannon.”
This time, her throat closed up hard, and she could only nod and croak, “Yes. Oh, yes.”
He opened up the teal cardboard box that read Tiffany & Co. on the top and shook out the black leather ring box inside. When he flipped it open, the solitaire surrounded by more diamonds flashed glittering reflections over the silver and mirrors in the suite like a laser show.
Jonas slid the ring on her finger. “I am so glad Xan overruled me about hiring a new back-up singer.”
She laughed, and it broke through her tight throat. “Me, too.”
He stretched and kissed her, and Rhiannon wrapped her arms around him and held on.
The story of Rhiannon and Jonas is over, but the Killer Valentine series will continue! Rock Stars in Disguise: Tryp is the next book in the series!
CLICK HERE TO SEE ROCK STARS IN DISGUISE: TRYP
http://bit.ly/RSID-Tryp-Amazon
It’s one of the rules of the rock and roll road: the band and the roadies don’t mix. The band snubs the roadies because they’re uncultured grunts, and the roadies hate the musicians because they’re spoiled brats.
Meet Tryp, the rock star drummer for Killer Valentine, the hottest band on the planet. He's young, he's rich, and his whirlwind life of liquor, women, and screaming crowds is perfect, just as long as he never sobers up.
Elfie Tilsi has been a pyrotechnics technician (don’t call her a “roadie.”) with the breaking-out rock band Killer Valentine for two years, ever since she ran away from home.
The musicians of Killer Valentine are starting to crack from the unrelenting stress and limitless excess of touring. When the band manager tasks Elfie with babysitting Tryp, she tries being a little kind to him and quickly discovers that his problems are far deeper than the rock and roll lifestyle.
Can the love of a rock drummer and the pyromaniac roadie survive?
*****
See Blair Babylon’s Romance Books at Amazon
See Blair Babylon’s Thrillers and SF&F at Amazon
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Rock Stars in Disguise: Rhiannon.
If you’d like to know when my next books come out, please visit my website or sign up for my email list.
Email List subscribers get lots of free stuff: sneak peeks at works-in-progress, free stories, epilogues to previous books, and notices of new releases and special sales or coupons. Every newsletter has something new, fun, free, or discounted in it, just for you!
Plus, all new subscribers get free ebooks right away!
Click Here to Download
Free Ebooks by Blair Babylon!
If you can’t click and fill out short forms on this device,
Please type this link into a browser:
http://smarturl.it/Free-Babylon-Ebooks
~~~~~~
Want to read more about
Billionaires with BDSM Fetishes,
all of whom are hiding something big?
Plus Rock Stars with secret pasts
and other alpha males?
CLICK HERE!
http://smarturl.it/Blairs-Billionaires
About Blair Babylon
Blair Babylon is the nom de plume of an award-winning, USA Today-bestselling author who used to publish literary fiction. Because professional reviews of her other fiction usually included the caveat that there was too much deviant sex and too much interesting plot, she decided to abandon all literary pretensions, let her freak flag fly, and write hot, sexy, erotic romance, plus wild, suspenseful thrillers, science fiction, and urban fantasy using the super-secret pen name Blair C. Babylon.
Blog | Facebook Page | Facebook Group | Google Plus | Tsu | Goodreads
Table of Contents
Their Second Chance by Milly Taiden
Forever Sheltered by Deanna Roy
Kiss of Memory by V. M. Black
The Cowgirl Ropes A Billionaire by Cora Seton
What a Girl Wants (Rock Stars in Disguise: Rhiannon) by Blair Babylon
&nbs
p; Beyond Love and Hate by Zoe York
Ripped by Olivia Rigal
Ready to Fall by Daisy Prescott
My First, My Last by Lacey Silks
Azure by Chrystalla Thoma
Wicked Little Sins by Holly Hood
The Royal Elite: Ahsan by Danielle Bourdon
All for Hope by Olivia Hardin
High Risk Love by S.J. Mayer
Rush by Violet Vaughn
First Taste by Mira Bailee
The Perfect Someday by Beverly Preston
St. Charles at Dusk by Sarah M. Cradit
Want to know when the next Red Hot Boxed Set comes out?
CLICK HERE
To join the Red Hot Mailing List!
BEYOND LOVE AND HATE
by Zoe York
BEYOND LOVE AND HATE
by Zoe York
BEYOND LOVE AND HATE © Zoe York 2014
First comes love, then comes marriage...
Beth Stewart is ready to find a nice guy and settle down. But the only man who makes her tingle also drives her crazy in the non-sexy, work-related way. When her bosses hire Finn Howard as a marketing consultant for their growing winery, Beth is sure working together is going to be a complete disaster.
Or maybe just a single night of passion, no strings attached. (Yeah, right!)
Finn knows he can't give Beth what she wants--and a nice guy would walk away. But when a long day of work turns into a private night, fueled by wine and pent-up desire, he gives in to his baser instincts. Damn the consequences.
CHAPTER ONE
Perched on a craggy point jutting proudly into Lake Erie, Go West Winery was Beth Stewart’s pride and joy. She’d been the first non-family, non-friend the West brothers hired five years earlier, and as of two months ago, had been promoted from Marketing Manager to Director of Operations and Guest Services.
So why was she about to paste on a fake smile and take a meeting with the insufferable Finn Howard? Because the monster had scared away her replacement, and now she was left wearing both hats, two weeks before the Essex County Toast to Summer Wine Festival. The event was the biggest opportunity of the season to cement their brand with wine fans flooding in from all points between Detroit and Toronto. And advocating for the changes that would benefit Go West meant clashing with the sexy, bossy, completely unlikeable marketing officer from the growers’ association.
Right on cue, the devil arrived, his high-end sedan that didn’t impress her in the least purring to a silent stop in Evan’s parking slot. Of course he would ignore the polite “Reserved” sign. As he stepped out of the car, pausing to adjust his suit jacket, she braced herself against the visceral pulse of pleasure she’d come to expect each time they met.
She was pathetic, lusting after a man she didn’t like. Could barely stand to be in the same room as, yet wanted desperately to get naked with. Because Finn Howard naked? That would impress her. Striding toward her in a dark grey suit, light blue shirt and black tie, he made her weak at the knees. Naked, she’d probably faint.
Of course, that would never happen. For one thing, if Finn was naked, she’d probably be naked, too, and there was no way she’d give Mr. Perfect a glimpse of her four-years-on-the-wrong-side-of-thirty thighs or her soft, doughy tummy.
Which just made her hate him even more, that he rendered her speechless and self-loathing, when normally she liked her curves and knew how to pair them with a saucy look and a teasing smile. With any other man, Beth had confidence to spare.
But this man was the devil. Time to armour up.
She lifted her voice, willing it to be strong and just loud enough to compete with the late spring wind. “Careful, Mr. Howard. Rumour has it the Director of Operations has employed the services of a towing company to ensure that reserved spots are, in fact, reserved.”
He paused, and for a second she thought he might smile, but after a frozen beat he resumed his steady pace in her direction.
As he drew abreast, he murmured, “Just remember not to screech, okay?”
Screech? Was that something she did on a regular basis? No, it wasn’t. She could feel her eyes flashing wide and crazy-like as she spun to follow him inside. But damn him, now she felt like screeching. Stomping her feet and having a tantrum sounded good, too, and their meeting hadn’t even begun. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Are we in the boardroom today?” He asked the question blandly, as if he hadn’t just insulted her. And she still didn’t understand what the insult had meant…why was she going to lose her mind?
“No, I’ve got everything in my office.”
He nodded in agreement, and stepped out of her way so she could mount the staircase ahead of him. With each step, she silently repeated her goals for the meeting.
1. Get buy-in for more prominent Go West brand placement
2. Don’t imagine him in his underwear
All she had to do was stay focused on those goals. Be professional. And, apparently, not screech.
As she settled behind her desk, she kept her attention squarely on the papers in front of her. The map of the Kingsville Country Club covered in Post It notes indicating stall placement. Finn’s original plan in yellow, her changes in green. She took a deep breath and willed herself to stick to the indisputable facts—
“Great, I see you’ve arrived!” Ty West jogged into her office, his shirt-sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He’d probably just come from downstairs, where he belonged. Beth shot him a puzzled look that he totally missed. “Sorry Evan couldn’t make it, but he ended up having to take the first train to Toronto this morning. Don’t know how the guy does it. Anyway, have you told Beth the good news?”
“What news?” She left off the word good because she doubted it would actually apply, given that Finn had been nothing but a thorn in her side for the last year. She’d shared her concerns with the West brothers more than once but Ty didn’t care about marketing at all and Evan was thinking bigger than the local market. That left her holding the bag. And all the problems Finn put in it.
Across the desk, her nemesis cleared his throat. “Not yet, I thought she’d probably want to hear it from Evan.”
“Too bad, so sad. Big brother has a meeting with some Japanese buyers today, so it’s up to us to welcome you to the family.”
Welcome to the— “No.” Finn raised one eyebrow in her direction. She didn’t care. It hadn’t come out as a screech. Her protest was calm, cool and collected. And definitive, but in case there was any confusion… “I mean, hell no. Did someone offer this man a job without consulting me? Because I’m pretty sure I’m in charge of that type of thing now, and he is a terrible candidate to work for Go West Winery.”
He grinned. “Good thing I’m not going to be an employee, then.”
“Oh, thank god.” Beth turned to Ty, who stifled a laugh. “What?”
“Finn’s agreed to come in as a marketing consultant for the summer.”
The devil leaned back in his chair and winked—winked!—at her. “See? Consultant.” He pulled the syllables out, long and slow, as if big words might be a challenge for her.
“Actually, it wasn’t so much agree…more like suggest, is how Evan tells it.” Ty shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea to me.”
Something tickled at the back of Beth’s throat. Something hard and dry like pure embarrassment coated in shards of glass. Once she started coughing, she couldn’t stop. Before she realized he’d even moved, Finn was around the desk and kneeling in front of her, holding a bottle of water. “Here,” he muttered dryly. “If I knew stifling the screech would have been so difficult, I wouldn’t have warned you.”
“You…you…you…” Words failing to squeak past the catch in her throat, she accepted the water and took a few sips. Vocal ability restored, she shook her head. “You suggested this? Why? We don’t work well together. No offense.” She grimaced. “Okay, that sounds offensive. But—”
He shifted back on his heels. Up close, his grey eyes had flecks of blue in them, and his
perfect white teeth were slightly crooked, which just made him more interesting. No grey in his thick black hair, but maybe he dyed it. Ha. As if. And his gaze had a hint of something that looked like affection in it. “We don’t get along, I grant you that. But I think we work well together. The end result is always spectacular.”
“You can’t be a consultant for us—you work for the growers’ association. It’s a conflict of interest, and in a way, we’d be paying you twice.” All of a sudden aware of his proximity to the bare skin of her calves, Beth twisted in her chair and tucked her legs under her desk. Why did she wear a skirt today?
Stupid question. She knew why. She wasn’t proud of it, either.
“I’ve done projects for other member wineries before. I can wear multiple hats.” His voice was low and far too smooth for her liking. He’d practiced this conversation and had the advantage.
As if he thought she was about to narrow her gaze and spew venom at him—and frankly, he wouldn’t be far off from the truth if she didn’t rein it in—he pushed effortlessly to his feet.
Don’t stare at his thighs. Don’t think about what the muscles pressing against the front of his pants would look like naked. Definitely don’t follow the obvious path north--
“Beth?”
She jerked her attention back to Ty.
“We good here?” He shoved his rolled up shirt sleeves higher on his corded arms and propped his hands on his narrow hips, emphasizing the length and breadth of his v-shaped torso. Ty had a certain charm, or so thought all the women in Essex County. Why couldn’t she have a stupid crush on her handsome boss whose only fault was being selfish? Instead she was stuck salivating after the even more handsome and much more cruel Finn Howard.