Rhythm is the heart of every song.
Jase Collins lives for the stage and the perks of rock stardom. His wild antics and high-profile affairs have earned the sexy drummer the title of Hot Wired’s bad boy. He’s not quite as jaded as his fans think—but just jaded enough not to recognize the best thing that’s ever happened to him until she walks out of his life. And he doesn’t even know her name.
But without harmony a man is lost.
Fallon Morgan has had her life mapped out since high school. She’s earned a full ride scholarship to UCLA with the driving goal of earning her doctorate. Nothing can derail her dreams—except maybe a one-night stand with the infamous Jase Collins. His chilly reception the morning after convinces her to put her biggest mistake in the past and move on without looking back.
When two hearts begin to beat as one…
When Fallon’s life takes a dramatic turn, she finds herself with no one else to turn to for help. Jase is obnoxious, demanding, and yet surprisingly tender. Though it chafes her to depend on him, the more time she spends with him changes her perceptions of the bad boy rocker. With each passing day she finds more and more faith in the man behind the public persona. If she can learn to trust her feelings, she might be willing to risk her heart.
They could find themselves Lost in the Beat!
Every cell in Fallon’s body wanted to rebel on principal. Like the good girl she was, she succumbed to Jase’s demands. “Do you ever not get what you want?”
“Yeah.” He stepped right into her personal space, knocking his very naked chest against her breasts.
The way her nipples protruded upon contact, they might as well have been naked against his flesh. The simultaneous dampness in her panties unnerved her. Damn her traitorous body! She ignored the pulsing between her thighs and coerced her libido to focus on him and not her body’s yearnings.
He lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers around her ponytail. A slow, gentle pull on her hair and he notched her head back. “Twice last year I didn’t get what I wanted.” He sounded put out by the inconvenience.
Proof he lives a charmed life! That was as good as always getting his way in her valuation. She’d endured many more disappointments than that in the past year.
His sapphire-blue eyes looked black in the dim lighting. “Care to know what those two were?”
If she said no, then he’d suspect she predicted those disappointments centered on her.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes. Number one…I didn’t want Sam and Fang together.” Surprised, her eyes widened at his confession. The tabloids would pay good money for that juicy tidbit. “Didn’t think they were right for one another. Gave them a lot of hell for that.” He shrugged. “My accident—you heard about that, right?” At her nod, he went on. “It reminded me how short life is, so I gave them my blessing to be together.”
Fallon licked her lips, suspecting his sister hadn’t really needed his blessing to do what she wanted. “It was the right thing to do.”
A humorous glint sparkled in his eyes. “I’m not known for doing the right thing, darlin’. Like now.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He adjusted his hand, sliding it along her ponytail, before burying his fingers into the coil of her strands beneath the snug grip of the rubber band. His other arm curled around her shoulders, drawing her tight against his frame. Her heart pounded in her ears, and he smelled good.
Jase nipped her bottom lip and at her sharp gasp, he took advantage and slid his tongue into her mouth. The cool minty taste of him verified he’d taken the time to brush his teeth.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she groaned upon his first contact, a slow drag of his tongue against hers. The immediate surge of wetness that drenched her panties scandalized her.
Her eyelids snapped open, and she spied him watching her. Fine lines creased the corners of his eyes. Again and again his tongue caressed hers, reminding her how he’d licked her breasts and between her legs.
More moisture dampened her panties, and her passage clenched in need. She compressed her thighs, but that action caused her ache to grow instead of abate as she’d intended. He withdrew from her mouth, and she almost botched stifling her groan of disappointment. Awed by the effect Jase asserted over her body, she stared at his lips. She’d lost all sense of restraint when he’d put them on her.
Just like the first time.
“You were the second thing I wanted last year.” He removed his arm from her shoulders and ran his thumb along her jaw. “I had private investigators search for you, but they repeatedly came up empty-handed.”
Stunned by the admission, she wasn’t sure what to make of it or if she even believed him. “Why’d you have P.I.’s looking for me?”
“Because you’re the one that got away.”
Jaselooked serious. He didn’t flinch away from her direct stare. Didn’t grin, didn’t even blink. But the idea that she was ‘the one that got away’ was ludicrous…Fallon snorted, calling bullshit. She bet he said that to every woman he wanted to screw. While he could have his pick of women, she was a convenient lay.
I am no one’s dupe.
“This chick isn’t stupid enough to believe that line.”
A flash of hurt pinched his features. His mouth parted as if he’d say something, but he settled for shaking his head and dragging his fingers through his hair.
Their sultry spell demolished, she watched him, refusing to allow herself to regret her callous honesty. He could have any woman he wanted, but she wasn’t for sale.
Jase released his hold on her and picked up the keys and cell she’d dropped on the floor. He placed them on the counter and met her gaze dead-on. “You’re obviously not as intelligent as I thought you were either.”
Where you can stalk me—not really!—but I do love to meet and interact with readers:
Facebook Group: http://www.facebook.com/groups/665218190162750/
Barnes & Noble: http://goo.gl/EI2g8B
Gracen is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a “normal” person in southern society. When not writing, she’s a full-time basketball/lacrosse/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to her real-life hero-husband of over twenty years. She has an unusual relationship with her muse, Dom, but credits all her creative success to his brilliant mind. She’s addicted to writing, paranormal romance novels and movies, Alabama football, and coffee...addictions are not necessarily in order of priority. She’s convinced coffee is nectar from the gods and when blending coffee and writing together it generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds are spawned from coffee highs and Dom’s aggressive demands. To learn more about Gracen or to leave her a comment, visit her website at www.gracen-miller.com.