Meet
Hawke & Quinlan in SWEET ACHE -
the newest Rock Star stand-alone in the
Driven Series by K. Bromberg!
NOW AVAILABLE
The
New York Times bestselling author of Slow Burn turns up the heat when a sexy
bet turns into so much more....
Hawkin Play, the bad boy rock star with a good
guy heart, has lived a lifetime of cleaning up after his twin brother’s
mistakes. Hunter’s most recent screwup could land Hawke in jail and risk the
band’s future. Hawke agrees to guest lecture at a local college to stay in the
judge’s good graces—and a bet with his bandmate to seduce his sexy teaching
assistant is icing on the cake.
Quinlan Westin is harder to bed than Hawke
imagined. She knows his type and is determined to avoid the rocker at all
costs—even if their attraction runs deeper than simple lust.
Just as Hawke might finally be winning over
the girl, his brother has other plans. When Hunter realizes his twin finally
has a weakness, he’ll stop at nothing to take advantage....
Hawkin
Well,
shit. Guess there’s not going to be any calm before the next storm. I look at
my brother and sigh.
I
hit the road, drive for what feels like hours. I don’t know where I’m going or
what I’m looking to find, but as long as I keep moving, my past can’t catch up
to me.
At
least it’s a good idea in theory because I can’t outrun this shit. The stuff I
want to and the stuff I don’t want to.
I
end up the one place I used to go to be alone, to think, and as I stare at the
Hollywood sign from my seat on the grass at the Griffith Park Observatory, I
love the feeling that I’m this little person in this big world. The idea
comforts me some. The notion that on the grand scale of things my problems are
minute. Someone out there has it way worse.
And
no one expects a rock star to be here so with my hat pulled low on my head, I’m
able to disappear.
I
stare down below to the city where as a little boy, scared and traumatized, I
wondered how all of the dreams inside my head could ever see the light of day
when I felt like I had the responsibility of the world on my small shoulders.
But I did. And I made it.
So
why do I feel like I’m still not enough? For my brother? To make my mother
better? For Quinlan to even want me beyond the killer sex we have? For the fans
who scream and sing my lyrics like they live them when they have no fucking
clue the meaning behind the words?
I
scrub my hands over my face, needing a drink, craving an ice cream cone, and
wanting the feeling of Quinlan’s arms wrapped around me as she silently sits
there and just is with me.
My
mind veers to Hunter. I push the guilt away, hold on to my gut check
rationalization that he deserved it, and realize that’s the trouble I’m having
here. Going with my gut versus going with the bullshit promises I’ve lived by
forever.
My
stomach churns and my head feels like Gizmo’s banging the hell out of it with
his sticks. I shove up off the grass, needing to get the fuck out of here, my
heart and head in conflict and for the first time in forever I dare to think
what could happen if my heart finally won for once.
Quinlan
I walk toward him, the sight of him slightly
unkempt with a carefree smile he hasn’t possessed for days calls to my libido
on so many levels it’s ridiculous. He brings a shot of something to his mouth
and I don’t even give a second thought to what it is because I know I’ll taste
it on my lips momentarily.
He
hums deep in his throat when I step up into his body and there is something so
inherently sexy about the sound—knowing that I caused that reaction—that
together with the feel of his firm body against mine lets me know there will be
no interruptions this time.
He
looks at me, eyes darkening and one hand sliding beneath my shirt a beat before
our lips meet in a hungry, no-holds-barred kiss. His empty bottle clatters on
the counter behind him so that his other hand can join in the temptation. I
lose myself in the taste of the tequila on his tongue, and the hypnotizing
feeling of his hands on my body.
The
music thumps hard around us, the noise buzzes, and the faint scent of cigarette
smoke wafts in from outside but it’s as if none of it hits me because I’m
consumed by everything about him: his taste, his cologne, the groan I can’t
hear but can feel against our connected chests, the heat of his body. I don’t
care who’s watching because it’s almost as if the overwhelming emotions that
he’s experienced all week long are manifesting themselves into our mutual
desperation.
“Upstairs.
Now,” he murmurs against my lips, and I’ve never heard more perfect words. He
grasps the bottle of tequila behind him in one hand and my hand in the other
without saying anything further and walks with purpose through the crowd. I
can’t see his face but he must have a determined look on it because not one
person stops him to talk when that’s been the norm for the evening thus far. At
the bottom of the stairs, I catch the eyes of the three wannabe women and just
smirk. Call me bitchy, but I can’t help it, I’m with the one they were hoping
to land tonight.
About
the Author:
New York Times and USA
Today Bestselling author K. Bromberg is that reserved woman sitting in the
corner who has you all fooled about the wild child inside of her—the one she
lets out every time her fingertips touch the computer keyboard.
K. lives in Southern
California with her husband and three children. When she needs a break from the
daily chaos of her life, you can most likely find her on the treadmill or with
Kindle in hand, devouring the pages of a good, saucy book.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand
at this writing thing. Her debut novels, Driven, Fueled, and Crashed of The
Driven Trilogy were well received and went on to become multi-platform
bestsellers as well as landing on the New York Times and USA Today lists. Her
other works include a short story, UnRaveled, and a companion piece to The
Driven Trilogy titled Raced. She is currently working on three stand alone
Driven novels, Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, and Hard Beat. She also plans to release
a novel addressing the 10 year gap at the ending of Crashed in late fall 2015
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