Title: Rock The Dream (Redfall Dream Series #1)
Authors: B.B. Miller & Leslie Carson
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: February 1, 2017
Synopsis
Multi-platinum, award-winning rock musician Kennedy Lane has it allβpacked arenas, private jets, and loyal fans. Everything is at his fingertips… until a tragic accident twists his dream into a nightmare. Haunted and lost, the only place he comes alive is on stage, playing for a sea of nameless faces. Heβs desperately wanting more, and losing hope that heβll ever find it.
Abigail Walker, Executive Director of an international childrenβs charity, lives for her job. Determined not to repeat past mistakes, she pours her energy into making the lives of the families she works with just a little better. But her dedication doesnβt keep her warm at night, a fact that sheβs beginning to regret.
When a little boyβs hope to meet his idol brings them together, Kennedy is shocked to find that determined Abigail may be the one to help him make his dreams come trueβif heβs strong enough.
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Excerpt
Chapter 1
Kennedy
βDonβt you want more?β My voice sounds disembodied, dry, and raspy, like Iβm a seventy-five-year-old chain smoker who doesnβt give a shit about what a lifetime of nicotine has done to his lungs.
A booming bass fills the penthouse suite at the San Francisco Fairmont, where my band, Redfall, and a host of strangers party into the night. βMmm… Youβre so fucking hot.β Itβs a slurred and intoxicated whisper against my neck from some nameless groupie sitting on my lap. Gin and desperation roll off her in waves. She licks the curved chaos of ink snaking down my shoulder and grinds her skinny, naked body against mine. I shudder at the feel of skin and bones against me. She pushes her tits forward, and breathes in my ear. βTouch me, Kenny.β
βI always want more. So do you.β The voice of my tour manager, Brodie Dixon, drifts to me from somewhere far away. I lean back against the couch, trying to open my eyes in an attempt to find him. I feel like Iβm floating in a dream or a nightmare; itβs hard to tell which. Iβm stuck somewhere between reality and a fucked up fantasy.
βNameβs Kennedy,β I mumble.
βKenny, Kenny, Kenny,β she chants as she rolls her hips against mine.
I turn my neck in the direction I think Brodieβs voice came from, making a feeble attempt to brush away the hand flattening against my stomach, and drifting south. I can feel her jagged nails scratching over my hip, fumbling, as she attempts to unhook my leather belt.
Her hot, liquor-laced breath fans over my exposed chest, and her fingers lazily drift along the tatt that covers my neck. She doesnβt give a shit about me. Sheβs just here because Iβm Kennedy-Fucking-Lane and she wants to say she fucked me.
Somehow, I manage to open my eyes. Through an intoxicated haze, I can make out Brodieβat least I think itβs himβbent over a table, slowly moving his face along a mirrored surface. I lift the dead weight of the bottle of Jack to my lips, welcoming the burn as the whiskey hits my throat.
Muted light filters in from the gaps in the curtains, catching the glare from the mirror and splaying prisms of color over Brodieβs body. He leans back in the chair and lifts his hand to his nose, snorting back any excess coke he may have missed. He cracks his neck like he always does when heβs finished, and pats his thigh.
It feels like Iβm watching in slow motion as a groupie appears like an apparition out of nowhere and floats to his lap, immediately wrapping her arms around his neck and crashing her lips to his.
I shut my eyes, guiding the heavy bottle back to my lips, hoping the magic liquid will block everything out. It hurts to swallow. My throat feels like itβs on fire. I wonder how much is enough to numb the pain.
About B.B. Miller & Leslie Carson
