HIGH STRUNG (POWER STATION BOOK 1)
CRASH RIDE (POWER STATION BOOK 2)
Ashlyn Murphy was not living the dream. Twenty-seven years old, college educated, up to her eyeballs in debt and yet she’d been relegated to pouring beers at a local bar. She desperately needed an out and was willing to do anything to get back into the corporate world. Well, almost anything. Dan Evans, Rock Star was NOT one of those things. In fact she despised him. Apparently he didn’t get the memo.
Dan Evans, bass player of international rock band Power Station had it all. He was rich, travelled the world, played to millions of adoring fans and had no shortage of beautiful women willing to share his bed. He didn’t need a moody redheaded knockout with a superiority complex complicating his life. Or did he?
When two people who couldn’t be more opposite cross paths, it’s bound to be explosive; sometimes all you can do is sit back and enjoy the show.
I stood, in preparation for my turn, when I felt a shadow cast over me blocking out the midday sun. It was just my luck to finally get an interview with a halfway decent job and some crazy-ass Armageddon took over New York. I slowly turned—might as well get a good view of whatever fate was about to befall me—and I almost smacked directly into Alex Stone.
Alex Stone was the lead guitarist of the band, Power Station, and while I had not been a fan of the band, I was definitely an appreciator of this fine specimen in front of me. Standing six four, with an amazingly toned body, ice-blue eyes, and magnificent blond hair, he had been engineered to be a sex symbol. Rivaling Michelangelo’s David, he was chiseled to perfection. The fact I didn’t care for his music did not detract from my fascination. In fact he could probably give up his music career, stand in the Met Museum and allow us mortals to glare longingly at him all day. What? Living art is a legitimate gig.
"Hello," Alex purred, dazzling me with his amazing devilish grin. "Are you waiting to see Lexi?"
Of course I knew Lexi Reed was not only the band’s publicist but also married to the guitarist, aka the guy in front of me, but man, Lexi was like Barbie. The bitch had everything.
I blinked, allowing my eyes to float down his sexy muscular chest and noticed he had a Baby Bjorn carrier with a sleeping infant inside strapped across it, hindering my view. I think my ovaries just exploded. It was too much. Because when Alex wasn’t sending the panty-wearing population into overdrive by being a rock god, he was a new dad to his baby daughter, Grace. I mean, seriously, how could a woman not swoon over that deadly combination?
"Um," I mumbled like a moron, all my years of education flashing before my eyes, unable to make my mouth function. He was talking to me?
"I’m just going to need a moment of her time, mind if I step in ahead of you?" His smooth voice curled around every word, making love to it.
I nodded wordlessly, feeling compelled to continue the moronic theme I had running. It was better than throwing myself at his feet and worshiping him, a very real danger the longer he stood there. He was more than just good-looking, he was obscenely attractive, and I had this unbelievable urge to lick him, slowly, like a cat.
Taking my wide-eyed, enthusiastic nod as a yes and seeing he wasn’t going to get anything more intelligible out of me, Alex strode into Lexi Reed’s office. I watched as his ridiculously hot body disappeared through the doorway, my eyes straining to catch the last glimpse of his incredibly toned ass before it slipped from view.
"He’s married and a douchebag," an uninvited voice said, pulling me from my happy place.
"Huh?" I twisted around, ready to disembowel the owner of said voice for ruining my Alex Stone fantasy.
"He," the owner of the voice pointed to the door Alex had just walked through, "Is. A. Douchebag." He enunciated slowly before continuing, "Alex. Is. Also. Mar-ried." He paused before each syllable for effect.
Standing in front of me, marring my memory of Alex, was the owner of the voice – an annoying man. Shorter than Alex, at what I assumed to be roughly six foot, he eyed me with more interest than I was comfortable with. He had a mess of dark hair, smoldering dark brown eyes, and was covered in tattoos, the evidence poking out from the sleeves of his T-shirt. Next to the word badass in the dictionary, I’m sure there was a picture of this guy. Dressed in torn, dark blue jeans, and a Misfits T-shirt, he was the epitome of a rock star, without the finesse Alex possessed. Despite his unkempt look he was strangely sexy, although his smug smile made me want to add ripping out his tongue to the disembowelment I already had planned.
"I heard what you said," I snapped. "There is nothing wrong with my hearing. I just don’t know why you cared to volunteer that information." Despite his good looks, I think if either of those two men was a douchebag it would be the one who was still talking to me.
"Oh cool, you talk." He laughed. "I just wasn’t sure if you were just a star-struck fan or you had a disability. I was trying to be polite." He moved closer, stretching out his hand. "I’m Dan. Dan Evans."
"I’m not a star-struck anything. And I don’t have a disability. I don’t know what you are talking about." I purposely rejected his handshake and instead adjusted my jacket, annoyed he had assumed I was just another one of those girls. Who was this guy anyway? Judging by his appearance, I guessed him to be another member of the band, possibly the drummer? He probably needed to compensate about not getting enough attention being holed up behind a drum kit.
"Look, it’s fine, babe. We’re used to it. Girls get crazy over us all the time. You don’t need to be embarrassed." He pulled back his hand and shrugged, seemingly unfazed by my lack of civility.
"I’m not embarrassed. And I’m not your babe. Whatever you think you saw, you were mistaken. I don’t get crazy." I was slightly embarrassed, but more irritated I’d been caught staring…and called on it.
"Sure. Okay. You don’t want to admit it, that’s fine but I know what I saw, and you were throwing so much heat in Stone’s direction I’m surprised the paint didn’t peel off the wall." He pulled out a stick of gum and popped it into his mouth, thoroughly enjoying the fact I was irate. Clearly not a gentleman.
"Oh my god. I was not throwing heat. Are you insane?" I hissed, my embarrassment manifested into full-blown anger as I tried my best to save face. No matter how gorgeous this man in front of me was, I was not going to let him get the better of me.
"You can keep denying it all you like, babe. Makes no difference to me. I just thought I’d be charitable and point out it’s a waste of your time." He chewed on his gum, smirking. "You have a better chance of the Cleveland Indians winning a World Series than Stone sleeping around. Now me on the other hand, I don’t have those kinds of restrictions."
My face flushed with anger, as I officially wanted to kill him. Yet stupidly, I couldn’t deny how attractive he was as he smugly stood in front of me, his broad chest filling the material of the tee that did little to hide the toned flesh that lay beneath. What the hell was wrong with me? He was rude, arrogant and probably teeming with every STD known to man, and he’d called me babe…twice. I was not going there.
"Did you take some kind of class to learn how to be so offensive or is this a natural ability?" I leaned forward, refusing to allow him the pleasure of knowing he was getting under my skin.
"How did I offend you? I have been nothing but polite. I haven’t even looked at your tits." Dan stared at me bewildered, actually confused.
"Wow. My tits and the rest of me thank you for your lack of interest." I gave him my best death stare, disappointed I didn’t have some mutant ability that would render him incapacitated. I blamed my pre-teen fixation with comic books for giving me such unrealistic expectations.
"Don’t mention it. They are a little on the small side, it makes things easier." He shrugged, talking about my breast size like it was no big deal. The edges of his mouth curved as his eyes dipped down to gaze at my aforementioned tits, which were thankfully contained by my conservative business shirt.
"Really? You’re not even going to hide the fact you are now staring at my breasts?"
"Well now we are talking about them, I kinda can’t help myself." He grinned, not even having the decency to be remorseful. "You know, now that I’ve looked at them, they don’t seem so bad. You should maybe pop a button or two though, work with what you got."
Megan Winters had lusted over Troy Harris, drummer for international rock band Power Station, for years. Not being the type of girl who was invited backstage, her fantasies had stayed just that, fantasies. When her best friend unexpectedly starts dating one of the other band members it puts her on a crash course at war with her libido. Her solution— they need to have sex. Surely once she had scratched that itch, and saw the fantasy didn’t live up to the reality she could move on. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?
Troy Harris vowed to stay away from Megs. The sexy, smart and funny blonde left his mind and his body feeling like a pretzel. No matter how attracted he was to her, she was a no-go zone. The best friend of his best friend’s girlfriend? Cue the reality show. But when she gives him the chance to have a one-night no strings good time, there was no way he could turn that down. Maybe she was right. One night, and then they could go back to being just friends.
Both of them were delusional.
Book two of the Power Station series
It’s not like I had spent the last six months pining after a guy I couldn’t have. No, I had brushed myself off and went full steam ahead in trying to find a distraction. Any distraction. Not that I started bedding strange men and having one-night stands, but I was certainly more open to a casual relationship. I was actively dating and I’d always had a healthy sex life, but the last couple of months… well I was a little bored with what the life buffet had offered me. Maybe it’s the bad-boy hang up or the allure of the forbidden, but the reasons why Troy and I shouldn’t sleep together were making less and less sense. After all, we were adults. Rational ones even. Well, for the most part. Feelings wouldn’t even have to come into it. Who says it has to be a relationship? It could just be just sex. Maybe once we’d had sex, the whole forbidden fruit issue would be gone, thus remedying the situation. Maybe, it would be like a vaccination, sort of like when they give you the live virus of something to prevent a full-blown outbreak. It would definitely cure the sexual frustration I had going on.
"Um, Megs? Where did you go?" Troy’s raised eyebrow hinted at the fact I’d zoned out again. It seemed to be a real hazard when I was around him. I hadn’t even noticed we reached the stairs that lead to the VIP area.
"I was just thinking…" I swallowed. My heartbeat raced as I contemplated what I was about to say. Best not to over thinking it, I didn’t want to lose my nerve. I was also stone cold sober, as Troy had helpfully pointed out, so there was no way I could blame my future actions on inebriation. Still, there was a sure fire way to stop the loop of crap rolling around in my head and that way was standing in front of me. Sue me if I sounded desperate, I really didn’t care about public opinion, what I needed was to lose myself for an hour or two. And the person I wanted to do that with was Troy. Here goes nothing. I was about to test my theory once and for all to prove that honesty is in fact the best policy.
"We should have sex."
"Whoa. Um. Megs. Maybe we should get a drink first. Maybe sit down?" Troy smiled but didn’t act shocked. After all, the flirting was nothing new so he probably assumed this was just an extension of that. Turning it up a notch, if you will. I could tell he didn’t think it was a legitimate proposition. I would fix that.
"No seriously. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced we should do it."
He lowered his face inches from mine. "Megs, didn’t we already agree dating would be a bad idea?"
"Who said anything about dating? No, I’m talking about fucking. Just sex. Purely physical," I clarified in case there was any confusion. I figured if I was going to sell this baby, I had to do it justice and leaving wiggle room in the interpretation would not do.
His eyes narrowed, realizing I was serious. "Were you drinking before you got to Ash and Dan’s?"
Laughing would be inappropriate, and would not help my cause, so I tried not to. It wasn’t easy. Sure what I was asking was slightly out of character—scratch that, extremely out of character—but I had suggested it in the past. Granted I’d been drunk, and my lets-have-sex had been off-the-cuff, but a proposal had been made. What did I have to lose? "No. I’m completely sober. Actually, this is the clearest my mind has been in a long time."
"So we’re just supposed to fuck and then stay friends?" His eyes were a mix of contradiction and confusion. Strangely, it just made him even more alluring. "I really don’t think that works out that way for anyone."
While I admired his integrity on the issue—really, give the man a round of applause—it was his other attributes I was interested in tonight. It wasn’t going to turn into some long and romantic love story. I was okay with that. I was surprised I hadn’t come to this conclusion sooner. Sex was definitely the answer. "No, not if they go in with other expectations. Of course, we know better. No emotional attachment, just fulfilling a primal need."
His mouth curved into a grin and despite my indecent proposal, he didn’t seem pissed. "Megs, think about what you are saying. Once you go there, you can’t un-go there. We both know it’s not that simple."
"Are you two coming up or what? I thought we were going to party tonight, not have a PTA meeting on the stairs," Dan called from the top of the stairs, his arm around Ash. I guess they had finally noticed our absence, or potentially heard the whistle of the crazy train threatening to take me away.
"Shut up, asshole. We’ll be there in a minute." Troy turned and called back to him over the noise. Secretly I was glad he hadn’t just shot down the conversation. It would be premature to high-five myself just yet.
Dan rolled his eyes but didn’t seem overly concerned as he allowed Ash to pull him away. She gave me a quick wink and a smile just before they disappeared from view. I would have to thank her for that later; her intuition guessing it was a conversation that didn’t need an interruption. She didn’t need to know the finer details, especially seeing as I had no idea what I was actually doing.
I leaned in closer to Troy, needing to know if I was fighting a losing battle. "Aren’t you even the slightest bit turned on by me?"
"Megs, my dick is about to get choked out by my jeans. Trust me, not being turned on is not the issue here."
So I wasn’t imagining it. He was interested. Or at the very least his dick was, and lets face it, that was the only part we really needed to be on board. Yep, we can officially declare me out of control. Maybe the stress really was getting to me? Whatever the excuse, I was going with it. I’d come this far, might as well jump off the cliff. I had always been an overachiever.
"I think you are over-thinking this. Here is the way I see it. I have had a really bad week, horrendous even. And what I would really like right now is sex. Just to lose myself in a raging, screaming orgasm. Nothing fancy, as long as we both get off. Now, I know I could find some random guy and take him home, but I would really prefer for it to be you. Who gives me the orgasm, I mean."
Troy cocked an eyebrow as he considered my offer. "And you think we can just have sex and shit won’t be awkward later?"
"I know so. Besides, I think it might actually help us." At the very least help me. Possibly even cure me of my crazy obsession all while helping me forget my mental baggage. There really wasn’t a drawback as far as I was concerned.
"How do you figure?"
I took a deep breath. This is what I like to call my finishing maneuver. The final wrap up. The end argument. "Well, I’ve always had a thing for you. I’d go to shows and see you on stage and secretly wonder what it would be like. Knowing you hasn’t really stopped me from thinking about it. If we did it, then maybe I could stop looking at you and wondering what it would feel like to come with your cock inside me."
His jaw tightened, as his eyes raked up and down my body. The intensity of his stare made me feel naked.
"Fuck." He hissed out a breath.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T Gephart is an indie author from Melbourne, Australia.
T's approach to life has been somewhat unconventional. Rather than going to University, she jumped on a plane to Los Angeles, USA in search of adventure. While this first trip left her somewhat underwhelmed and largely depleted of funds it fueled her appetite for travel and life experience.
With a rather eclectic resume, which reads more like the fiction she writes than an actual employment history, T struggled to find her niche in the world.
While on a subsequent trip the United States in 1999, T met and married her husband. Their whirlwind courtship and interesting impromptu convenience store wedding set the tone for their life together, which is anything but ordinary. They have lived in Louisiana, Guam and Australia and have travelled extensively throughout the US. T has two beautiful young children and one four legged child, Woodley the wonder dog.
An avid reader, T became increasingly frustrated by the lack of strong female characters in the books she was reading. She wanted to read about a woman she could identify with, someone strong, independent and confident who didn't lack femininity. Out of this need, she decided to pen her first book, A Twist of Fate. She enjoyed the process so much that when it was over she couldn't let it go.
T loves to travel, laugh and surround herself with colourful characters. This inevitably spills into her writing and makes for an interesting journey - she is well and truly enjoying the ride!
Based on her life experiences, T has plenty of material for her books and has a wealth of ideas to keep you all enthralled.