My name is Hunter Jordan, lead singer of Hammered and no, I didn’t name my cock Manaconda.
Rolling Stone did.
On the front cover of their damn magazine.
I still haven’t lived it down. And now our record label wants to maximize the frenzy.
So, I have a brand new PR person–Kennedy McManus.
And she’s making me insane.
I don’t know whether to ignore her, yell at her, or push her up against the wall and kiss her smart mouth shut.
BEYOND OBLIVION – A Rockstar Romance full of sexy fun set within the world of our Lost in Oblivion series! You never know who you’ll see show up in the books.
**** Warning: book does end on a cliffhanger ****
- We met each other on a Harlequin Critique Partner message board. We’d never been on the site before or since. It was pure kismet. Especially since neither of us ever ended up working for HQN. It took about two emails to know we’d be best friends right away.
- Seduced was a late night piece of madness between us because of our love of music and rock stars. We haven’t turned back since. Oh, and we’ve got 4 more series planned and even started writing serials together as well.
- Our brand of plotting books would horrify normal people. We are crazy intuitive and somehow leave each other breadcrumbs to pluck out and use in future parts of a series.
- Births and deaths in our families tend to overlap within a few days. It’s actually to the point that we’re weirded out if they DON’T coincide.
- We can actually talk every single day, and still chat for hours on end. Our last chat log had over 400k words in it. That was pretty much 2 months worth of chatting. Whooopsie!
“Maybe we should go back.”
I shook my head. “Maybe we can sneak around. Seems like there wouldn’t be any fans back here.”
“Famous last words,” she muttered.
I strode out, gravel crunching under my boots.
“You know, I’m not a huge fan of this dragging me around like a child.”
I turned back to her, dragging her into my body. “Nothing child-like about you, Kenny.” I bent down to her, our noses touching. “I just want a little alone time with you.”
A loud engine started up.
“There’s an elevator back there.” She pointed with her thumb. “I bet we could do a lot of things in your room, my room—whatever.” She rose on her toes until our lips were a breath apart. “You can give that whole seven thing a go.” She dragged her nail over my bottom lip. “I don’t believe you’ll make it to seven, but I’m willing to let you try.”
“Oh, my God, that’s Hunter!”
The hiss of hydraulics and stomp of many feet did not bode well.
I closed my eyes. “Shit.”
“Please don’t be what I think it is.”
A trio of people in black shirts with our new album on the front were standing in front of a huge bus. “Can you run in those things?”
She looked affronted. “I can do anything in heels.”
“I hope so.”
A woman in her twenties pointed our way. “Is that him?” she shrieked.
“This is where the fan club bus is parked.”
“They should be at dinner. Why aren’t they at dinner?” Kenny asked with rising panic.
“Guess it’s over.” I sprinted to the door we’d just come out of. “Son of a bitch.” I twisted the handle but nothing. “It must have locked after us.”
She slapped the keypad. “Ya think?”
“Not helping.” I darted a look past the bus, along with the line of at least seventy people lined up to board. Definitely couldn’t go that way.
“They’ll eat you alive.”
Three women broke off from the crowd and headed our way. As soon as they did, twenty more followed. I dragged Kenny with me to the front of the bus and around the side. The bus driver looked down at us and shook his head.
No help there.
The people that had boarded the bus were pointing at us as we ran to the other end. I shot by another line of cars and zig-zagged around another bus and saw a familiar logo. “Thank God.”
“Where did he go?” Came shouts that were way too close.
“Where are we going?” she hissed.
I dragged her behind me as I ducked behind a black truck we used for our equipment. It has been a stripped down stage, but we still had a lot of instruments between Keys’s pianos, the entire percussion set up that Wyatt used, all the guitars, amps, and digital network we used—we needed a truck no matter what.
“New plan.” I unlatched the back of the rig and lifted the rolling door. “Get in.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?”
She groaned. “I can’t get up there.”
I lifted her until her knee was on the base of the truck ledge. She scrambled in as the scraping of heels and running feet got closer.
“Move it, Kenny.”
Her skirt rode up as she dragged herself inside. I threw her a soft whistle. She turned back to me with murder in her eyes. I squashed down a laugh, rolling in after her, tugging the door down behind me with a bang.
“I hate you.”
I just smiled into the dark.