 by Cassandra Robbins.jpg)
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
From USA Today bestselling author Cassandra Robbins comes her latest sinfully hot rockstar romance. A scorching, enemies to lovers, deliciously addictive stand-alone about rock ‘n’ roll royalty and burning obsessions.
They call him a legend.
One of the greatest guitarists of our time.
The mighty Ace of Spades brought in to produce my album and save the day.
Not only is he covered in tattoos. He’s gorgeous, talented, and infuriatingly arrogant, even demanding I trust him.
Trust him?
I. Hate. Him.
I’m a former child star turned rock princess, caught up in all kinds of bad press and scandal. I need to stay focused on my music, and career. Not get distracted by his filthy mouth and piercing eyes.
If only our chemistry wasn’t off the charts, or the fact that I can barely breathe when he’s near.
Time is ticking. Sooner than later, the chaos and mayhem of our lives will take over.
Everything becomes messy.
And tricky.
Rockstars don’t get happily ever afters…or do we?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
COURTNEY FALCON
Studio City, Los Angeles, California
“Roxy’s fucking pregnant?” I scream in my manager Malcolm’s face, then spin to grab the closest thing on the table behind me to throw against the wall.
“Court…calm yourself.” Malcolm holds up his hands as he stares at my shattered phone that somehow is still able to light up with nonstop messages.
“How? How did you not know about this first?” I shake my head as I feel my pulse pound in my temples, his face becoming blurry from hot tears that I’m trying really hard not to let loose.
“Answer me,” I demand, trying to breathe because this is a humiliation I might never recover from.
“Look.” He takes a breath as he runs a freckled hand through his deep red hair.
“I’m trying to get ahold of Roxy, this came out of nowhere, I didn’t know she was fucking pregnant. Jesus Christ, what is that noise?” he screams up at the ceiling. The loud sound of a helicopter circling my house almost makes me start laughing because can this be any more fucked up?
“Where’s Rachel? I need her,” I demand, wiping at my tears angrily.
“Just relax, I’m trying to get an answer on that also. The one time I actually need your fucking PR woman, she’s not picking up,” he snarls as he starts to text on his phone. “Okay, I need to think...” He leans forward, pressing his hands on the table as we let the magnitude of what’s happening set in.
“I don’t understand, Malcolm. The tabloids found out first? That bitch planned this.” Venom drips from my mouth, I mean, just when I think I’ve gotten past this trauma, it rears its ugly head all over again. Honestly, how can I move on from the pain and humiliation of catching Roxy, my guitarist, who just so happened to be my best friend, sucking on my boyfriend Johnny’s cock.
Some best friend. And some fucking boyfriend.
“Oh my God.” I throw my head back and start laughing. I’m not even trying to pretend this doesn’t sting or make me question myself. Because if I was that gullible, that pathetically trusting, how can I make sure I never let this happen again?
Easy, Courtney. It’s simple. Don’t let anyone get close to you. I close my eyes against the pain of that night. Like a recurring bad dream, I can still hear Johnny’s guttural moans coming from the hallway outside my bedroom. So loud it woke me up. Jesus, it was almost as if I really were in a dream, except I could feel the cold floor on my feet and the pain in my chest as I witnessed Roxy’s bleached blonde head almost alien-like as she gagged on his dick in the dark.
And the best part was they were doing all of this in my house.
My house.
Yeah. The scumbag would fuck me, wait until I went to sleep, then fuck her. Bottom line: you can’t trust anyone, and people are shit. At the end of the day, I have to remind myself, everyone is just out for themselves. Dog eat dog world out there…I learned that the hard way.
I don’t even care that the tabloids have labeled me the Ice Queen. A Diva. I’d like to see how they’d react getting stabbed in the back by the two people you loved more than yourself.
Bile burns its way up my esophagus as I shake my head trying to block out their faces, yet it’s all I see.
“Fuck them.” Grabbing the crystal ashtray next to Malcolm’s hands, I crank it straight at my wall, missing it, but shattering my TV with a satisfying explosion.
“Done. I’ll never play another song with her. Do you hear me? It’s over,” I shriek into his flushed face.
“For Christ’s sake, stop. That’s a fifty-thousand-dollar Beovision.” He grabs my wrist, stopping me before I can pick up and throw his laptop as well.