Fronting a rock band was always the dream. But no one ever tells you that years of partying, groupies, and never sleeping in your own bed gets...boring.
And then I see her her.
She stands by the exit, pale hands clutching her metaphorical pearls as she takes in the backstage scene with wide, frightened eyes. So out of place in her modest dress and cardigan, a rose trembling in a sea of thorns.
A single point of stillness in a mad, mad world.
She looks like she's ready to teach a Sunday school class. A pure temptation to a rocker who's done and seen it all. A new kind of debauchery. A new low.
Until she tells me no. She's not interested in rockin through the night. She wants to get to know me instead.
Like I have a heart or something.
Like I'd ever show anyone if I did.
Author Confession: Will the inexperienced, curvy preschool teacher rock the jaded rockstar's world? Or will he roll over her heart and leave her heartbroken on Valentine's Day? (Like I would let that happen, please.)
