Synopsis
He’s a rockstar with wild secrets.
She’s a broken woman with a dark past.
When Wes Baron‘s sexy rocker antics jeopardizes his position with Muse of Darkness, the band manager books him as the main attraction at a fundraiser. Celebrities and good causes. What could go wrong? Too bad the strict head of the orphanage despises rockstars. Even worse, Wes can’t wait to make her beg … for his help.
Maria Augusto has saved her precious kids before without resorting to groveling. She won’t start now just to please a selfish rock’n’roller. Rumor has it, Wes engages only in the wildest, sexiest parties and Maria has put her unbridled days behind her. She can do without him just fine. If only she could get rid of the attraction as well.
But as their sparks of hatred at first sight transmute into flames of desire, Maria and Wes will discover if their passion between the sheets can last forever. Or if their differences in real life will drive them apart. If they don’t make a decision fast, they will both lose everything they’ve worked hard to accomplish.
One-click this book today to find out what they decide to do.
This reimagining of Sound of Music will make fans of Kylie Scott, Jaine Diamond, and Alexa Padgett swoon. No cheating or cliffhangers.
SNEAK PEEK
Chapter 2 – Wes – Unedited version
2022@ Liz Gavin
From my spot in the center of the couch, arms crossed over my chest and legs stretched out in front of me, I watch Kimberly Peltier. My band’s manager paces the length of said couch in her office, while ripping me a new one. She has braided her curly blonde hair. Now it slashes the air around her with every sharp turn she takes. The tip of the hairdo reaches the middle of her back, swishing against the leather of her black corset as she moves away from me.
“Seriously, Wes. I don’t know what else to do. How can I help you when you don’t help yourself?”
My heart stutters as I struggle to find words to explain my actions to her and come up empty-handed. Despite still being in her early forties, Kim has always served as a kind of proxy mother to all of us in Muse of Darkness. Since we haven’t been exactly choir boys, we keep her plate full. However, this time I fear I might have gone a step – or ten – too far.
“You know Tarmac Records has put up with a ton of shit from this band over the years. They don’t do so out of the goodness of their hearts. They turn a blind eye because they’re making millions off of Muse of Darkness.” She turns around to walk toward me again and keeps talking, “Well, they tolerate it when the shit you guys pull off stink up only your reputation. However, they don’t take kindly to things that might drag their name through the mud.”
I drop my chin to my chest and groan. Although, she makes a great point, we’ve been through the whole fiasco a few times by now. I’m fed up.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I interrupt her, “I’ve said it a thousand times to the execs and to you. I had no idea those two women worked for our record label. I’d never met them before.” I open my eyes again to find Kim towering above me. She’s got both fists digging into the curve of her wide hips, straining the black leather of her pants. Her eyes throw daggers at me as she scowls. I throw my hands in the air in surrender. “What? What did you expect me to do? It’s not like people ask for resumes in the middle of a BDSM party.”
With a heavy sigh, she sinks into the cushion beside me, still holding my gaze. “Okay, I’ll give you that. One option would have been not to attend an orgy.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “You think I haven’t tried?”
The truth is that I’m tired of searching for something so elusive I’m beginning to think I’ll never find. Lately, that hole in my heart has grown to an unbearable size. Each time I witness Erik or Logan interacting with their ladies, all lovey-dovey, an iron band squeezes my chest to the point I can’t breathe.
The other truth is that I’m not ready to face, nor discuss, that first truth with anyone. So, I just soldier on, throw myself into mindless sex, and pick up the pieces of my heart right afterward.
Kim pats my hand, snapping me out of my daydream. “But did you have to pose for photos wearing your fucking birthday suit?”
“I had a mask on.”
She fumes, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t be cute.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Bile floods my stomach making me queasy. “It’s just that I’m so pissed off at myself for my stupidity. I should’ve paid them off when they blackmailed me.”
She takes a deep breath in and lets air out in a long exhale. The hummingbird tattooed at the top of her left breast bounces up and down, revealed by the low neckline of her floral silk top. Her brown eyes soften as she sizes me up.
She whispers, “Those guys are just college kids looking for an easy way to make a buck. They recognized you, but they had no idea who the women were. Otherwise, they’d have gone straight to Tarmac. In any case, we need to talk next steps now.”
Blood freezes in my veins. I shiver. “The label wants me to eat crow in public, don’t they? Probably do a big mea culpa, a couple of photo ops?”
She thrums her fingers on the cushion between us. “They want you to make the best of the auction for the fundraiser for Hidden Scars.”
“Phew, that’s going to be a breeze.” I plop against the couch with a heavy sigh of relief, stretching my arms out along its back. “You know how much a love helping out those ladies, always have.”
In fact, supporting that non-profit is the least I can do for Ana and Moira. Muse of Darkness and Knight’s Edge have a long history together, so we often hang out. Ana and Moira noticed the signs that my sister Pam was in a violent relationship before anyone else had a clue about what was going on. Through Hidden Scars she got mental health support, as well as legal counseling, to prepare herself to leave her low-life husband. She’s now married to a wonderful guy, and they have three kids.
“You usually donate an obscene amount of cash and wipe your hands. That’s not going to cut this time.”
I knit my eyebrows. “I’m not only giving out money. I’m doing that lame online celebrity auction thing this time.” I roll my eyes. “Although I still don’t understand how I let Izzie talk me into that.”
My band mates and I have a debt of gratitude to the chance Izzie Anderson gave us over a decade ago. Now married to Tristan, the guitarist and leader of Knight’s Edge, she used to be a huge star back then. She hired Muse of Darkness as the opening act of her sold-out tour and the rest is history. Maybe that’s why I have a terrible time saying no to her.
Kim holds my stare, sliding back and forth an index finger along the edge of the cushion. “About that auction.”
My stomach drops. “You never hesitate to speak your mind, Kim. What’s up now?” I squint my eyes at her blushing cheeks. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
She shakes her head. “Tarmac wants you to do the in-person version of it.”
“No fucking way.” I leap from the couch and pace along the same track she has carved on the rug. “We’re in the middle of shooting a fucking movie about the band while trying to finish up a very overdue album. Meanwhile, Erik’s muse is MIA and Logan’s head is stuck up his butt. Nick’s gone to Boston, who knows why.”
“Exactly. You guys are getting nowhere with the album. A couple of days won’t make a difference in the schedule.”
I whirl around to face her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She shakes her head. “Not in the least.” She gestures for me to sit again beside her.
I plop myself on the soft couch with a huff. “What’s the point of going down there for this thing?”
“Publicity, optics, and image. Yours, the band’s, and the label’s.” She raises her hand, palm facing me, when I open my mouth to argue. I remain silent as she continues. “Regardless of the fact that those two women are adults and willing participants in a sex party, the media has been calling you out for exploiting and belittling women.”
“I would never do such a thing!” I blurt out.
She interrupts me, “I know that, but it doesn’t matter.”
My blood boils. “Truth doesn’t matter? Is that it?”
She heaves a sigh. “What I’m trying to say is that the label doesn’t care for the people who believe in you. They worry about those who don’t. Those are the ones we need to convince you respect women. What better way than to have you working your ass off for a foundation that empowers the ladies?”
I shake my head at a loss, rubbing my hands along my thighs. The rough material of the jeans warms up my palms. “And they think participating in a celebrity auction will do that?”
She winks. “Oh, but they want so much more from you.”
Fuck! I don’t like the sound of that.
“Like what?”
“You’ve got to get the highest bid in the proceedings. That’s the only way to ensure favorable publicity. Can you imagine the headlines if nobody bids on you? Or if you get a ridiculously low offer?”
“Fuck! I knew it I wouldn’t like what you were about to tell me.” A pang in my stomach like a jab from a world-champion steals my breath way. “The thing is tomorrow!”
She grins. “I’ve got the jet ready and waiting for you. The car will take you to the airfield.”
I glance down at the black T-shirt I’m wearing. “I need to make a quick stop at my apartment to pack a bag.”
She shakes her head. “No time for that. It’s a twelve-hour flight to Sao Paulo. You need to leave now to arrive in time for rehearsals. My assistant has done that for you. The suitcase is in the trunk of the town car.” She pats my thigh and pushes to her feet. “Good luck.”
* * *
After an uneventful flight, in which I slept like a baby, we arrive at the busiest Brazilian airport. It’s not my first time visiting, but I’m always taken aback by the size of the city that twelve million people call home.
“Good morning, sir,” a smiling immigration officer greets me as he sits on the overstuffed chair across from me.
“Hope it is,” I grin back at him, handing out my passport.
He double checks my information and returns the document to me. “All set, Mr. Baron. Welcome to Sao Paulo. Have a pleasant stay.”
I stand up and follow him out of the plane. At the top of the stairs, I hunch my shoulders to brave a freezing gust of air.
“Fuck! I forgot it’s winter here,” I mumble, shuddering under the sixty-mile-per-hour winds pummeling me.
The sports jacket I have on doesn’t protect me at all. I run toward the shelter of the terminal where I find out the local temperature is fifty degrees Fahrenheit.
A dark-haired man not older than twenty pops up in front of me, a wide smile splitting his full lips. His excitement is clear on the twinkle of his green eyes when he greets me, “Good morning, Wes. I’ll be your assistant during your stay.”
“And you are?” I wink. “I don’t mind informality, but I like to know who I’m talking to.”
In this case, an obviously star-struck fan, but still.
“So sorry. I’m Alan,” he informs me, holding out his hand.
I shake it. “Great meeting you. What’s the plan?”
He gestures for me to follow him. “There’s a car waiting right outside to take us to Sala Sao Paulo, where they’re setting up the event. Still in the morning, there’s a rehearsal. Then, I’ll take you to lunch. After that, there’s the fitting.”
We climb on the limousine. As the driver pulls away, I furrow my brow. “Fitting?”
“For the tuxedo you’ll wear this evening.”
I control the urge to roll my eyes, with a lot of effort. “Yes, of course.”
“Then, there’s the dressed rehearsal and we’ll be ready to kick off the event.”
Twenty minutes later, the car stops in a parking lot behind a sprawling art-nouveau building. I don’t have time to admire the architectural gem as Alan rushes me inside saying, “Everyone’s already in. They’re just waiting for you.”
My jaw drops when we enter a room with an arched ceiling more than eighty feet high with a magnificent stained-glass skylight. The weak rays of the winter sun penetrate the amber and white slices of glass and form intricate shapes on the marble floor. At the end of the hundred-foot-long room, a raised platform holds a dozen people.
Alan points at them. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got to help set up the decoration of the concert hall. I’ll be back to take you to lunch.”
“See you then.”
Except, I don’t. Lunch break comes and Alan is a no-show. I grab a quick bite at the in-site restaurant with the others because we don’t have time for much else. The buildings in this complex don’t have heating while the high ceilings, polished stone floors, and open archway allow for the air to circulate freely and freeze anyone who’s dumb enough not to wear heavy clothes.
People like me.
Someone has borrowed a coat from wardrobe for me, but I look like a bullfighter from an opera. As soon as rehearsal is over, I rush around the multiple rooms in the arts center looking for my temporary assistant. I want to give Alan money and ask him to buy me winter clothes. With this tight schedule, I can’t do it myself. But I can’t find him anywhere.
I ask around and nobody has seen him for a while. What the hell?
Tired, cold, and cranky, I’m about to give up as everyone is busy either running around or working on something. I don’t want to get in their way nor burden them with my problems. I should’ve come more prepared. Now, I just have to grow some balls and endure the low temperatures.
A shiver runs down my spine and my teeth chatter. I tug the costume coat around myself while I find my way to my dressing room for the fitting. As I cross the hall with the arches and the skylight, I notice a young woman standing in the middle of the room. Her short frame sets off her pixie blonde hair. Her big blue eyes sparkle in her heart-shaped face as she spins around, gazing at the ceiling and tall arches that line the sides of the hall.
Over her black wool dress, she wears a white apron with Hidden Scars logo so she must be helping with the event. She probably works with the foundation or the organizers of the fundraiser. Not everyone speaks English in Brazil, so I’ve learned a couple of words the first time I came here.
I approach her in my broken Portuguese. “Favor poder ajudar-me?”
She snaps her head down to meet my eyes and all traces of joy vanish from her expression. With a deep frown marring her flawless skin, she replies in fluent English, with a hint of Brazilian accent, “Yes, Mr. Baron. How can I help you, sir?”
Despite the sarcasm dripping from her words, an acute urge to make her purr, both my name and the form of address, surprises me. I blink a couple of times to reset my mind. Maybe my body is beginning to suffer hypothermia.
I rub my hands together and try my best smile on her. “I’m looking for Alan.” If she knows who I am, she might know him as well. “Have you seen him? I needed him to buy me some clothes. I’m freezing.”
My charm has zero effect on her while she scans me up and down, setting my skin on fire. However, her expression remains serious, hostile even.
She lifts a perfect eyebrow. “I see why.”
When she doesn’t elaborate, I insist, “Is Alan around?”
“Nope. He’s just left. I believe he’s got stomach flu.” She shrugs. “Either that or he’s gotten too anxious hanging out with his idol, namely, you. In any case, he was feeling too sick to help out, so we sent him home.” Her tone isn’t flattering at all. “But don’t worry. I have to go to a mall nearby anyway. I’ll grab something for you, if you give me your information.” She hands me her phone with an app for taking notes opened in a blank document.
I write down my height, weight, and size, return the phone, and grab my wallet.
“Thanks, miss …”
She refuses my money and telling me her name. “Don’t worry about it.”
As she saunters away, my gaze follows her. I’ve never met this young woman in my life. I would remember her if I had. I’ve no idea why she reacted to me the way she did.
But I’ll have fun finding that out and changing her mind.
Challenge accepted.
Wes and Maria’s story releases on Jun 29th.
Pre order Book #3 – Muse of Darkness series now – Wes.