Hot Nights in Sturgis The Complete Series: A Billionaire, Bad Boy, Motorcycle, BDSM, Romance (Billionaire Romance Novels)

by Michelle Love

  I turn back around and go back to the bookstore and purchase the book. I’d like to see just how our pretend lives turned out. I hope she made my character good looking.

  Peyton

  My back is aching as the tour bus pulls into the motel parking lot in Seattle, Washington. The new author book tour doesn’t have us staying in the type of accommodations big wigs stay in. The little motels offer subpar mattresses, and my back is not happy. Thank the Lord this is the second to the last stop. The next one is in Los Angeles.

  After that, back home we all go from LAX. My first plane ride and I’m already nervous. I’m nervous about L.A. period.

  That’s where Kip lives. Not sure if he’ll be home, but it is his town and though extremely unlikely, we may run into each other and if he sees me I don’t know how that will go.

  Do I miss him? Like the desert misses the rain. But he and I have a crazy dependency on each other. Not only is it unhealthy, but it’s not a thing he wants.

  It is a little hard for me to take that he hasn’t called or texted even once. But he must have his reasons. Whatever the hell they are. I have mine for not trying to get in touch with him as well.

  The first month was the hardest. I didn’t sleep much. Then one night I did. After that it got easier and easier to be alone. Not that I’m ever really alone.

  I found it therapeutic to write a fictitious story about Kip and I and what we had. It was brilliant and brief, much like a shooting star. But the effects will last a lifetime.

  I wonder if he ever even thinks about me.

  As I go into my small motel room I flip on the television. The local evening news is on and I sit on the edge of the bed and watch it. I’m curious as to what type of weather we’ll have for tomorrow’s book signing.

  This is Seattle after all, so I suppose rain is in the forecast. Like always. A commercial comes on and I turn to unpack my bag and pull the dress I’ll be wearing tomorrow out and hang it up.

  Music fills the air as the commercial comes on and I look over my shoulder to see the words, ‘Kip Dixon’ on the screen. The music is from one of his songs and it seems he’s playing a concert right here tonight.

  Why did my stomach just flip?

  It’s not like I could go if I wanted to. He hasn’t attempted to contact me in the last six months. It’s obvious he’s put me out of his mind and behind him. Just as I feared would happen.

  For some damn reason I feel more alone than ever and tears just start flowing. I sit down and start bawling like a little girl who just found out her puppy got ran over. I feel so stupid, it was just his damn name!

  I must be hormonal or something!

  Even though the commercial is over, I turn the television off. I can’t risk seeing the commercial again. I go to the bathroom and start filling up the bathtub. I’ll take a nice bath and soak my memories of him away.

  Kip

  The concert was lackluster in my opinion. I tried to pump up the energy, but it seemed to be sapped out of me. It just wasn’t there and I don’t know if I can find it.

  I wonder if she’s in town yet.

  I wish I hadn’t deleted her phone number. That was rash and completely uncalled for. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

  Why am I so afraid to love someone so much it makes me weak?

  I’ve showered all the crap off me and see the book she wrote lying on the nightstand by the bed. My eyes fall on it and I can’t move.

  A knock comes at the door. “Who is it?” I shout.

  “Bobby, come on let’s drink, mate. I have a bottle of tequila out here.”

  I glance at the door and then back at the book. “Rain check, mate. Good night.”

  He grumbles some unkind words and I flop down on the bed and open the book. The first thing I notice is the dedication page.

  ‘This is for my falling star. What we had burned bright and ended way too soon. Just so you know, I’d do it all again anyway. No matter how painful it turned out, what you gave me was priceless. I will cherish what we had, and all you taught and gave me forever. Keep burning bright and may a love you can bear find you one day.’

  Damn girl! Is she trying to make me cry?

  I wipe the unshed tears from my eyes and start on chapter one. And would you looky here, there’s guitars on either side of the chapter. Little nuances of me are probably all through this.

  I wonder if by writing this it made her completely get over me.

  An idea comes to me and I flip to the end of the book to see if she has a web page or something. There’s a fan website. I grab my laptop and look it up.

  Her sweet face pops up on the screen, and there she is and now I really want to cry. I touch the screen and wish I could feel her soft skin under my fingertips. She’s glowing and even more beautiful than I remember.

  I join her fan club and write a comment.

  Enjoyed your book. I think I know the couple you were writing about. They remind me of a relationship I had once, but fear fucked it all up. Anyway, I am your new number one fan. And always will be. I hope you find love too, P. Reed. I thought it clever to use a K as your first initial, I get it.

  I know she doesn’t read this stuff, but it makes me feel slightly better to write it anyway. Somehow it feels like we are still in communication. I wonder if she’d like that.

  As I go through her website I see that the book tour she’s on ends in Los Angeles the day after tomorrow. It’s at Skylight Book Store near Hollywood.

  I laugh out loud as I recall how her brothers called me Hollyweird. She called me Pop Rock, and I secretly loved it. She stopped calling me that though towards the end. It was as if she was gaining respect for my music.

  It makes me feel like writing a song about her since she wrote a book about me. It’s only fair after all. If she can mimic Taylor Swift then so can I.

  Grabbing the small pad of paper and a pen from the nightstand, I write down the things that stick out in my mind about her. First I write, Summer Girl. That’s what I think about when I allow myself to relive our short time together. Her hair is blonde and reminds me of the summer sun.

  Our camping trip and the river also remind me of summer. Her naturally tanned skin and long, toned legs. Well, they just remind me how good they felt when they wrapped around me.

  I shake my head to clear it. This is a bad idea. It will only lead me to dream about her, and that always ends with me waking up and grabbing at the bed to find her. And she’s never there and never will be again.

  Hidden Star

  An Alpha Billionaire Romance

  Book 8

  By Michelle Love

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  Kip

  A clattering sound echoes in the hotel hallway. I assume it’s the breakfast I ordered from room service and open my door to see it isn’t. A maid seems to have dropped her vacuum cleaner and a short man comes down the hall with the food I ordered.

  “Good morning, Mr. Dixon,” the man calls out as he approaches me. “Fine morning, don’t you agree?”

  I have a bit of a hangover from a little too much partying after last night’s show. I haven’t done a lot of it, but with Peyton in the same town as me, I kind of freaked out and drank too much.

  “It’s okay,” I mumble as I hold the door open so he can come in and set the stuff on the table.

  He hands me the newspaper as he walks by. “See you had yourself a good bit of fun last night.”

  “It was okay, nothing great,” I say and open the paper to see my fake face on the front page. There’s Gina, an old kind-of girlfriend of mine who surprised us by coming on stage and singing a number with me. After the song ended she kissed me, yet another unwelcomed surprise.

  “You should read what the reporter wrote,” the little man says as he places the crepes and
coffee on the table.

  I scan the article to find the writer is a douche bag. He says that I’ve seemed to have moved on from the plain Jane I announced I’d be marrying six months ago. He says how she’s disappeared off the face of the Earth and added an unnecessary, good riddance. Then he goes on to make claims that me and Gina are on again and hotter than ever.

  “Bastard!” I shriek. “This could not come at a worse time.”

  “The media is not always so kind, are they?” the man asks as he leaves the room.

  I toss the paper on the bed and make myself a cup of the coffee he brought in. I can’t believe Peyton is in town and most likely will see this. My cell rings and I see it’s Gina.

  Mistake number seven thousand, giving her my number. I answer though as she must be furious about the newspaper as well. “Hi, Gina.”

  “Hey there, lover!” she says with a giggle. “When do I get a ring and proposed to on stage?”

  An unsettling laugh I make. “So, you’ve seen the paper.”

  “I have and man that kiss looks hot. Don’t you agree? I should make my way to your hotel room and try that out again.” Her words end in laughter, but I’m not sure she’s joking.

  “About that, Gina, I’m sorry. I hope that doesn’t get you in trouble with the latest boy-toy.”

  “I’m free at the moment,” she says. “Unless you want to make that story real that is. I’ve missed you, Kip. That was a lot of fun what we did last night.”

  “Is that why you showed up unannounced?” I ask. “Because you miss me?” My body is tense and my mind races with all the reasons why I should take Gina up on her offer, but my heart still belongs to Peyton.

  “We were good together and since we’re both in the same industry, we could help each other out. You know, make some beautiful music together, both in and out of the studio.”

  “So, you want to make some music together and possibly go on next year’s tour with us?” I ask.

  Her voice goes shrill as she squeals, “Kippy! Would that be something you’d like? I’d love it!”

  I bet she would! She hasn’t had a hit in three years!

  “I guess you should know I’m not sure if I’m signing back on with my manager. I’m not sure I want to keep doing this kind of music. I’d really like to make my own stuff, give that a shot.” I pause and wait for her groan.

  She does not disappoint as she groans loudly then says, “Kip, that’s such a bad idea. I mean, you rock man. Why not keep that going?”

  Because it leaves me empty!

  “My life has been run by other people since I can remember. I’d like to try running it myself and see where that takes me. So, I won’t be taking you up on either of your offers, Gina. Thanks for thinking of me though. It’s flattering.”

  “You still have it for Plain Jane don’t you?” she asks with a monochromatic tone.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to her like that. Peyton is a sweet and wonderful woman who took my heart. I let her down, right when she needed me the most. That’s the reason I want to get in control of my life. It’s likely she’ll never trust me to be in hers again. But someday I’ll find another, I hope, and for her I want to be settled, not living a life that runs me.”

  “You don’t see me in that roll?”

  Gina is tall and blonde, gorgeous in every aspect, save one. She’s a user and always has been. All she really wants is to use me to get her somewhere in this business she’s been unable to get to on her own.

  “I could lie to you and tell you maybe, but the truth is no. You and I don’t mesh well if you’ll recall.”

  “Only because you refused to take me on the road with you. Even as a person who sells your damn T-shirts.”

  “Yeah, so why do you think that was, Gina?”

  “Because you are an ass.”

  And on to the name-calling!

  “Okay, it was all me and not you one bit. I’ll take the blame. Anyway, nice talking to you, sorry about the photo in the paper, though I doubt you are. It seems to me you may have had someone ready to take the damn picture. Manipulating always was your game, Gina. Sorry it’s not going to work out for you this time. Bye.” I end the call and toss the phone on the bed.

  Just another reason why I want out of the spotlight. If it’s not your manager lining up your days and nights, then it’s another performer wanting to ride on your shirt-tails.

  Thank God there’s only the show in L.A. left then I’m free!

  Now to decide for sure if I stay free or sign back up for another year of this before I try it on my own. It may seem like the answer is clear, but I’ve never tried anything on my own and failure seems terribly daunting.

  Peyton

  The line to get my, and the other eight new authors’, books signed goes out the door of the bookstore and around the corner. Seattle is such a wet city, they sell more books here than just about anywhere else. It seems with this tour I may become a real author. Make a real living out of this thing.

  I shudder with a chill as I think about the future. How nice it would be if I can really make this work. How much easier it would make my life if I could work from home. Especially now.

  One of the men standing in line pulls a newspaper from under his arm and opens it up to read while he waits. A teenage girl drops her copy of my book in front of me. “So, is the guy real?”

  “In my head, he is,” I answer with a laugh. “What’s your name?”

  “Abigail Sweeney,” she answers. “I kept picturing him as I read. You described him so well, it was like he was a real person. Is that your story?”

  I look at her and smile. “I’m not married and don’t have kids, so it’s not my story. It’s just a figment of my imagination is all it is. I have a very active one, hot guys run rampant through it. I hope you’ll be reading my next book.”

  “I will,” she says and grins. “Wanna give me a hint of what it’s about?”

  “Now, if I told you, I’d have to tell everyone. Thanks for coming, it was really nice to meet you. Abigail Sweeney.”

  She turns with a bit of disappointment in her dark eyes. I watch her leave and see the front page of the newspaper the guy in line is holding up and my heart stops.

  It’s Kip and some woman, kissing!

  My stomach clenches and I have to get up and run to the bathroom. People ask if I’m okay, but there’s no time to answer. I’m about to lose my dinner.

  Into the ladies' restroom I run and find an empty stall just in time as it all comes up. It’s been a while since I’ve thrown up. It was really bad at first, I threw up every day. Then it got all better, but seeing him like that got to me.

  He sure moved on fast!

  Cool water I run over a paper towel and hold to my forehead. A lump forms in my throat as I look at my refection. That girl was so much prettier than I am. Her body was fit and thin. She was perfect. I suppose he deserves someone like that.

  Another one of the new authors comes in. She’s a woman in her forties and motherly. “Are you okay, Peyton?”

  “Now I am. Just had to puke for some reason,” I say as I toss the towel in the trash.

  A motherly pat she gives my back and walks me back out into the bookstore. “Are you nervous?”

  “Not anymore,” I say as I take my seat again. “Thanks for your concern, Mrs. Simpson.”

  The hours pass quickly as the line of people thins out, and the end is near. Our tour bus pulls up front and we put the chairs away and go out to get on it and go to Los Angeles.

  My stomach clenches again as I think about running into Kip and that woman on the streets of L.A. God, I’ll die if that happens.

  I pull my jacket on and head out to the bus. All are on board and the driver pulls away. A sudden hard tap on the bus door makes him stop. He opens the door and the lady from the bookstore tells him something.

  He looks back at me. “Peyton, she wants you for a second.”

  With confusion I get up and go see what she cou
ld possibly want from me. As I step off the bus I catch a glimpse of someone standing at the side of the bus in a black hooded jacket.

  I look at the woman. “What did you need?”

  “This person asked to see you and begged me to stop the bus.”

  I turn and ask, “Did you want me to sign your book?”

  The person pulls my book out of the inside of their jacket and hands it to me. I look back at the lady. “I don’t have my pen with me.”

  “I’ll get one, I’ll be right back,” she says as she dashes back into the book store.

  “You just about missed me,” I say with a smile. The fact is though I’m beginning to get creeped out as the man or woman hasn’t seen fit to pull the hood back or speak. I can’t see the person at all. “What’s your name? You know so I can write it in the book.”

  No answer and the lady comes back out and hands me a pen. “Here you go, Peyton.”

  I look at the person again. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me your name. I’ll just sign it. I guess you’re shy, I get it. Thanks for coming all the way down here to see me. I hope you enjoy the book and become a fan. You can’t ever have too many of those.” I sign the inside cover and hand it back.

  I focus on the person’s hand. It looks like a man’s hand. I look back at the lady as she says, “There you go, sir. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I add and try my hardest to see him under the dark hood. “Have a great evening.”

  I turn to go back onto the bus and feel a chill run through me. I glance back to see him still standing there. I bite my lip and want to grab the hood and pull it back, but that’s too crazy and the bus driver coughs, making me turn my attention back to him.

  I climb on board and take a seat by the window so I can see him. Perhaps he’ll drop his hood as we leave. He steps up on the curb and turns his back to the bus and walks slowly down the wet sidewalk. His head shakes slowly.