#KindleUnlimited, #ShoutOutTuesday, #TeaserTuesday

Twisted Little Games – Book 2 (Little Games Duet) by #DeePalmer


Twisted Little Games – Book 2 (Little Games Duet)

Publication Date: March 4, 2018
#KU #Mystery

Twisted little games ~ final book of the little games duet
by Dee Palmer Author
🇺🇸 : http://a.co/j9OR7Yf


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Tyed by #LJShen



#KU #Sports

#Tyed #BestSeller #LJShen #MMARomance #KindleUnlimited

“There’s always that book that takes me by surprise and I end up loving so much that I can hardly even put it down; that was Tyed for me. Awesome weekend read!!!” – Dee, Wrapped In Reading Blog.

Amazon US ➜ https://goo.gl/QMBX7m
Amazon UK ➜ https://goo.gl/xkM2Qv
Amazon CA ➜ https://goo.gl/7i78Sd
Amazon AU ➜ https://goo.gl/okxpMY


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This Is The Route Of Twisted Pain (Neither This, Nor That Book 1) by #MariaLisadeMora


This Is The Route Of Twisted Pain (Neither This, Nor That Book 1)

This Is The Route Of Twisted Pain
Neither This, Nor That MC book #1
MariaLisa deMora

Amazon: http://getbook.at/TwistedPain
BnN: http://bit.ly/Twisted-NTNT
Kobo: http://bit.ly/mldemora-kobo
iTunes: http://bit.ly/NTNT-Twisted-itunes
Google Play: http://bit.ly/GooglePlay-MLdeMora

Legends are born from moments like these. Folktales spun around a single point in time so perfect, you can almost hear the click resonating through the universe as things align. Meet Twisted, Po’Boy, Retro, and Ragman, good old boys from southern states who have many things in common. First, is a bone-deep love of the biker lifestyle. Second, would be their love of the brotherhood, and knowing that you trust the man at your back. Finally, these men have the love of a good woman. None of these come without a price, and it is our pleasure to journey along with them as they discover the blessings that can be won, and lost along the way.

Newsletter signup: http://bit.ly/RWMC-newsletter

Amazon: http://amazon.com/author/marialisademora
BnB: http://bit.ly/mldemora-bnn
Kobo: http://bit.ly/mldemora-kobo
iBooks: http://bit.ly/mldemora-itunes
Google Play: http://bit.ly/GooglePlay-MLdeMora

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MariaLisadeMora
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mldemora
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/mldemora/
Instagram: http://instagram.com/mldemora
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/mldemora

Facebook: www.fb.me/mldemora
Website: www.mldemora.com
Author Events & Signings: http://bit.ly/mldemora-signings

#NTNTBooks #GetTwisted #TeamTwisted #MariaLisadeMora #NTNT


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The Bad Boy Reformed Series, Books 1-3: Raising Ryann, Resisting Ryann and Breaking Ryann by #AlyssaRaeTaylor


The Bad Boy Reformed Series, Books 1-3: Raising Ryann, Resisting Ryann and Breaking Ryann

Raising Ryann is only 99 cents. All three books of the Bad Boy Reformed series are available in #KindleUnlimited!! #mustreadseries!!

“Oh, and just so you know, when we train together…” He smirks then leaning in, whispers against my ear. “I’m the one in control.” Luke Ryann

Raising Ryann, Book 1
Resisting Ryann Book 2
Breaking Ryann Book 3

The Bad Boy Reformed series boxset


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Tucker Stone: A Texas Heat Book by #CreeNations


Tucker Stone: A Texas Heat Book

Tucker Stone never wanted to be Sheriff. He’s just a man and he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Yet here he is wearing a Silver Star on his vest, a gun on his hip – and a woman that’s nothing but trouble upstairs shackled to his bed. He could always take off the badge, and hang his gun up – at least temporarily. But the woman in his bed was an entirely different matter. For the first time ever he just might decide to keep her – at least then she’d be his…TROUBLE.


#TuesdayShare 143

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Monday 3/5 Daily Share Update


Monday March 5th

#141  Breaking Free (Second Chances Book 4)

by #MegsPritchard

Publication Date: March 6, 2018


#142 The Necromancer’s Smile

by #LisaOliver

Publication Date: March 6, 2018


#143 Cabin Commotion by #Brina Brady

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079Y29G5V?

Publication Date: February 19, 2018

#KU #GayRomance

#144 Riding With A Bodyguard (Jazmin and Ethan Book 5)

by #AnnRaina



#145 Bones of Belief: The Chronicles of Darius: (Dagger of Destiny Book 13)

by #JessThomas

Publication Date: March 1, 2018


#146 Ether

by #JSFrankel

Publication Date: March 9, 2018

#147 Sound of Silence

by #AliWinters

Publication Date: March 12, 2018


#148 Finally Gertie (Raineyville Series)

by #LacieMinier

Publication Date: March 2, 2018

#KU #Paranormal

#149 Longing for the Impossible

by #TiaraLGiles

Publication Date: February 28, 2018

#KU #NewAdultCollege

#150Seeking Rayne (Risque Business Book 2)

by #EzraDawn

Publication Date: March 18, 2018


#151 Bound: A Magnus Blackwell Novel (Book 2)

by #AlexandreaWeis

Publication Date: April 17, 2018


#152 His Brother’s Fiancée

by #VivianWood

Publication Date: March 27, 2018



#153 Cursed: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Romance (The Gaia Chronicles Book 1)

by #GraceWhite

US https://www.amazon.com/Cursed-Reverse-Fantasy-Romance-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B079N8R265

Publication Date: March 5, 2018



#154 Limelight (NSB #4)

by #AlysonSantos



#155 Take Your Medicine

by #HannahCarmack

Publication Date: March 5, 2018


#156 The Facility (Psychic Underground Book 1)

by #SarahElkins


Publication Date: March 5, 2018



Book March Madness
March 23 -27 https://www.facebook.com/events/2445591782331714

April Book Madness – MM Authors
April 13 -15 https://www.facebook.com/events/2120171548205938/

April MM Books Madness – Takeover
April 20-22 https://www.facebook.com/groups/Showsomeloveformmbooks
Schedule on group file doc

April All Genre Books Madness – Takeover
April 27-29 https://www.facebook.com/groups/894927017290169/
Schedule on group file doc

#BookcrushMonday, #ManCrushMonday, #ShoutoutMonday, Release Blitz

The Facility (Psychic Underground Book 1) by #SarahElkins

Title:  The Facility

Series: Psychic Underground, Book One

Author: Sarah Elkins

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: March 5, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: No Romance

Length: 70000

Genre: Suspense Thriller Paranormal, LGBT, action, asexual, paranormal, science fiction, thriller

Add to Goodreads


Being psychic is just another aspect of life for Neila Roddenberry. So are dreams of a past life as Nikola Tesla. She’s sure that last part is the result of reading the wrong mind at the wrong time without realizing it. Neither are things she talks about much. Her friends know she’s psychic, but no one knows about the dreams. She’s twenty-three, asexual, and unemployed with ambitions to become a freelance artist and writer.

On the way home from visiting friends, Neila gets caught up in a terrorist attack, then wakes up in an underground psychic testing facility. Raised by a doomsday-prepper father, Neila is unusually prepared for the possibility of being whisked away to a secret lab somewhere. When she is faced with the choice of working for the scientists studying psychics at the facility, she takes the job as both an agent and a test subject.

But not everyone in the facility wants to be there.


Psychic Underground
Sarah Elkins© 2018
All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1: Oh, Well Shit
Traffic from the shift change at Fort Hood was clogging up the perpetually construction-riddled highway that ran through the town of Killeen, Texas near the base. Neila sat in her Camaro, inching along behind a short army convoy on the highway not far from the military base. To distract herself from worry she had said or done the wrong thing at lunch with friends she let her attention hover around the military vehicles ahead of her to play a bit of a game of trying to identify what they were. One armored personnel carrier, three Humvees, and a water truck. There was a small red car with a primer-colored hood in front of the convoy. She pushed her Third Eye higher to see over the traffic jam. A wrecker was in the process of moving a car that had stalled in the one open lane. She snapped her attention back to her car when she smelled the sweet humid odor the radiator gave off when it was beginning to overheat.

“Crap, crap, crap, crap.” Neila hurried to turn on the heater and roll down the windows. She didn’t bother to reach over for the passenger side nob; instead, she used her telekinesis because it was faster.

It was a warm day, and the heater would make the interior of the car almost unbearable inside of ten minutes. The needle on the engine’s temperature gauge began to fall back down to read in the middle. She really didn’t want to take her hoodie off but would have to once the car got hotter.

Three motorcycles sped by on the narrow shoulder while Neila stared at the temperature gauge on the car. “Please cool off. We’ll be moving again soon. Great, shit, I’m talking to my car. Maybe I should cut the engine off?”

There was a loud noise, like a car wreck ahead of the traffic jam but louder. Neila thrust her Third Eye up to see what happened. Smoke rose from the remnants of the car that had been between the army convoy and the stalled car. The motorcycles that had passed were facing against traffic, and the riders were armed with assault rifles. She pushed her Third Eye closer to get a better look, AR-15s with M203 grenade launchers attached.

Thanks, Dad, for teaching me about high-powered weapons. Neila was thrust back to herself when the Humvee ahead backed over the front of her car. Without thinking, she slipped out the driver’s side window next to the concrete barrier before the military vehicle flattened the cab of her car. The other trucks in the convoy were scrambling to move, but the six-foot-high barriers on either side made escape all but impossible.

Neila was glad she wasn’t a big person as she raced forward, running down the thin gap between the convoy on her right and barrier to her left. She heard the familiar sound of shots from assault rifles and the loud unfamiliar sound of the slugs impacting with the armored personnel carrier ahead of the Humvees.

A series of loud bangs echoed down the road as if someone was breaking wood against metal, beating the side of the APC with mechanized baseball bats. She stopped next to the APC as she let her Third Eye trail up so she could see the motorcyclist who was firing at the window of the APC. Then she extended her “sphere of influence” toward him and wrenched the gun from his grip.

“What the fuck?” the man in the black motorcycle helmet shouted as his weapon abandoned him to tumble toward the hillside past the concrete barrier.

The driver’s side door to the APC opened. “Get in!”

Neila climbed up the side step of the truck and slipped in the door, which the driver shut behind her just as one of the motorcyclists began firing where she had just been. The driver and his passenger were the only other people in the APC.

“Please tell me you have backup coming,” Neila said quickly.

“Traffic’s backed up. They’re going to send in a helo, but the closest place to land is a mile up the road.”

“Do you have any guns?” she asked.

“No, just moving the trucks on a civi highway, no arms authorized this mission,” the driver replied. “Suppressive fire would save our asses—shit.”

“Oh, well, shit,” Neila echoed.

Neila wasn’t his boss, wasn’t even a soldier, but knew from spending time with her family who weren’t exactly “normal” that life-or-death situations required confidence and force. Her default was to take charge. Her family always joked that she sounded like a “little drill sergeant.” It had annoyed her, but she needed that experience now to survive.

That little drill sergeant found she couldn’t see outside the APC with her Third Eye. She went up to the scarred front window to get a better look at the cyclist who was firing at the truck.

More bullets slammed into the side of the vehicle. The windshield cracked a little more, and she ducked reflexively.

“I’m gonna try something. Don’t freak out,” she shouted to the two men in the truck as she tried extending her sphere of influence toward the biker who was still shooting. It was more difficult than normal, but she was able to wrench the gun away from her hands and slide it under the burning car ahead of them.

“You did that? How the fuck did you do that?” the soldier in the passenger seat of the APC barked. “What the fuck are you?”

The driver was on the radio. “We need that helo. Two hostiles engaging. Non-com casualties. Requesting permission to engage hostiles.”

“There’s three,” Neila corrected. “I saw three of them. One red helmet, two black helmets. Two men, one woman. AR-15s with grenade launchers attached.”

“Correction. Three hostiles engaging convoy,” the driver continued into the radio.

“You, girl. How the fuck did you do that?” the soldier in the passenger seat barked again. He wasn’t in follow-the-confident-person’s-orders mode like the driver had been.

“You mean you can’t?” Neila replied and looked back out the window. She assumed he couldn’t. Most people weren’t psychic. Playing dumb about it always seemed like the thing to do.

Neila managed to pull the brake lines off one of the bikes just as the female biker ran to it. The biker stared at the bike for a moment as it tipped over onto its side seemingly of its own accord. The woman in the red helmet looked up and locked eyes with Neila in the APC. Police lights twinkled over a mile down the highway. Neila couldn’t see where the other two bikers had gone due to the APC’s damaged windows.

“What the fuck, lady!”

Oh, now it was lady, such an upgrade. At least, it wasn’t girl anymore. She had been knighted.

“Requesting permission to engage hostiles. We are being assisted by a civilian,” the driver continued into the radio. So he had noticed her using her powers and wasn’t fazed by it. Maybe he was psychic or knew someone who was.

“Do not engage. Helo en route, coming in hot. Sit tight.”

Neila looked around at the angular interior of the APC. Rows of seats lined the sides of the truck. She couldn’t see any weapons inside. “How much does this weigh?”

“Six tons,” the soldier at the radio replied automatically.

Could she move six tons? She’d never tried because that was a lot of fucking weight.

“You need to drive forward, over the burning car.” She pointed ahead of them.

“Over the car?”

“Your buddies in the hummer in back already smashed my car. You can drive this beast over a fucking Kia. Get us out of here!”

The driver gunned the gas and plowed into the burning car, knocking Neila off her feet. She fell backward and hit her head hard on the metal floor of the APC.

Shouting. Muffled gunfire. The sound of a hail slamming into the side of a metal barn in a thunderstorm. The heavy thumping of a giant drum.



NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Sarah Elkins is a 30 year old comic artist and writer who nearly had to give up art entirely due to a form of ossifying tennis elbow that forced her to be unable to use her dominate hand for nearly a year. She spent much of that time writing novels with her left hand as a means to deal with the pain and stress of possibly never drawing again. Thanks to a treatement regimen she is able to draw again albeit not as easily or quickly as she once did.

Sarah enjoys reading science fiction, horror, fantasy, weird stories, comics of every sort, as well as any biographical material about Nikola Tesla she can get her hands on (that doesn’t suggest he was from Venus.) She has worked in the comics industry since 2008 as a flatter (colorist assistant,) penciler, inker, and colorist. She contributed a comic to the massive anthology project Womanthology. Currently she (slowly) produces a webcomic called Magic Remains while writing as much as her body will allow.

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Take Your Medicine by #HannahCarmack


Take Your Medicine

Publication Date: March 5, 2018

Title:  Take Your Medicine

Author: Hannah Carmack

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: March 5, 2018

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 24400

Genre: Contemporary Fantasy, LGBT, YA, chronic illness, coming out, lesbian


Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38492306-take-your-medicine




Alice “Al” Liddell is from Echola, Alabama. She leads the life of a normal teen until the day she’s diagnosed with vasovagal syncope – a fainting disorder which causes her to lose consciousness whenever she feels emotions too strongly.


Her mother, the “Queen of Hearts,” is the best cardiothoracic surgeon this side of the Mason-Dixon Line and a bit of a local hero. Yet, even with all her skill she is unable to cure her daughter of her ailment, leading Al into the world of backwater witchcraft.


Along the way she meets a wacky cast of characters and learns to accept her new normal.


Take Your Medicine is a southern gothic retelling of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.




Take Your Medicine
Hannah Carmack © 2018
All Rights Reserved

Golden Afternoons
I got sick the summer of 2010. At first, it was slow. A little fatigue here, a little light-headedness there, but by the time the scorching heat of July settled in over the little town of Echola, Alabama, I was having one or two fainting spells a day. My mother, bless her heart, was always trying to cure what ailed me, though it never quite worked. She was the best cardiothoracic surgeon this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. She was known for the occasional sarcastic quip, wearing braids down to her belly, and a nearly unscathed OR record. They called her the Queen of Hearts.

But, no matter how sick I got, my mother always expected me outside right at seven o’clock, ready to tend the garden. The day I met the witches was no different. We were up and outside a good five minutes early, trying to beat the already record-breaking heat. Barely past six a.m. and we were already pushing ninety. I joined her in the rose bushes, pruning and picking as we talked about our plans for the day.

“And I want you to go over The Odyssey one more time. I don’t feel you got the Cyclops as well as you should have.” Ma was sweating more than a tall glass of tea as she worked those beds.

“I think I got it just fine,” I answered her. “I just didn’t like it.” I worked my dark hands deep into the soil and pulled out an overgrown dandelion. It seemed like no matter how many I plucked, five would grow back in its place by the next morning.

Ma turned to me, her brow finely arched and her lips spread in a smirk. “Give it another read. You’ll appreciate it more the second time ‘round.”

“Why don’t I just read Midsummer again?” I asked, sheepishly avoiding her gaze as I busied myself in the roses. “I mean, it is midsummer.”

“Because you’ve already read that one five times.”

“So?” I kept my expression genial, not wanting to risk my mother thinking I was taking a tone with her.

“It’s important you expand your library.”

“That’s it?” I raised my gloved hands to the sky and pretended to plead with a higher power in hopes of a better reading assignment.

“Well then, fine.” She let out a low hmph and brushed the dirt from her hands. “Let’s just say it’s because I told you to, Al.”

“You’ve always said that’s a lazy reason to give.”

My mother rolled her eyes to the clouds in the sky. “Lord help me.” She huffed. “Fine, don’t read it. When your teachers give you trouble, don’t you come cryin’ to me, ’cause I did all I could to help you.”

Anything sounded better than suffering through Homer again. “Just twenty pages or so then?”

“Twenty.” My mother tsk’d. “Arright, arright. Twenty it is, but don’t go runnin’ off today. We’ve got a lot of work to do when I get home. Your auntie is droppin’ in this weekend and I want the place sparklin’, foyer to the chimney. Collect some of the collard greens from the vegetable patch today, would ya? I’m thinkin’ we’ll make a casserole.”

I assured her I understood and then turned back to uprooting an especially stubborn creeping vine. She’d just brought over a big old tin water can when a little compact car drove up on our gravel drive.

“Guess that’s me.” My mother turned her attention to Jackson. He was a tall man who always looked just a little too big for his ride. He usually struggled to get out of the car in time to get Ma’s door for her. “I’ll be home ‘round supper.”

I wiped my palms on my pants before wrapping her into a hug. The smell of her morning coffee still clung to her blouse.

“And don’t forget to water out back,” she called to me as they were pulling off. “Those river birches need it!”

The car backed out of the driveway, and I waved to them as they left. As soon as she was gone, I tightened my headwrap and turned to my watering duties. I tended to each bush with care and pulled a few stray weeds along the way. Kudzu was coming closer and closer to our little haven, and even if gardening was more Ma’s hobby than mine, I didn’t want to risk losing all our hard work to that tangled-vine devil. After finishing the roses, I went back inside to cool off in front of the fan. I sat there for a little while and let the breeze hit my face.

I still had the back bushes to do, but I decided to treat myself to a couple of speckled eggs and toast before hiking it all the way back to the orchard. If Ma had been there to ask, I’d say I wanted a break from the sun so I wouldn’t burn to a crisp before noon. But on the inside, I knew I was only eating because I wanted to have a full stomach and energy to burn. There was something I loved about that thick brush. The hum of cicadas and june bugs, the lush green forestry, and the shade from the hundred-year-old oaks. I’d go to water the trees, but I’d stay for a chance to roam the land. Times where I could just wander were few and far between since I’d gotten sick. The chance of being out in the woods and having a bad fainting spell was too risky. You could end up seizing if you didn’t fall just right. Luckily, the orchard wasn’t too far, but getting there was always a trip that you had to respect. It was dangerous terrain. Since the spells started, Ma hadn’t wanted me going that far out, but this was day four in a streak of no fainting attacks. She must have had some kind of hope, or she would have told me to wait for her to come home so we could go water them together.

The last trip I took to the river birch, I snuck out our camera to take pictures of the flora and fauna. Between the most beautiful flowers you could find the deadliest of things. Last week, it was a rattler perched in a patch of lilies.

Before leaving, I skimmed through The Odyssey. I know Ma said I didn’t have to keep reading it, but her words got me wondering. Of course, she’d been right. I did appreciate the cyclopes more this time. Ma was always right. It drove me a little crazy but made for some sound advice.

After finishing my reading for the day, I descended, a bulk of water canteens slung around my arms. Eight jugs for the trees. One for me. The path to the orchard was long, twisty, and confusing if you didn’t know the property. But, we’d been living there our whole lives. Same as my mama’s ma, and her ma before her. For me, it was nothing. This was the air I grew up breathing. The trees I grew up climbing. The tilted rocks that I scraped my knees on and the river I’d caught my first crawdaddy in. So for me, this Southern jungle was nothing.

Purchase Links


NineStar Press: https://ninestarpress.com/product/take-your-medicine/

Amazon: http://hyperurl.co/uiysmp

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/791280

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/take-your-medicine-hannah-carmack/1127950077

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/take-your-medicine-3


Meet the Author


Hannah Carmack is a writer and spends most of her time connecting reluctant readers and bookworms alike to the world of literature and science. Although living with an auto-immune disease is difficult, she finds power in using her writing as a way to convey the world that people with disabilities live in to people who may not fully comprehend it.


Author Links


Website: http://hannahcarmack.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HannahCarmackAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/manlyhamm

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/manlyhamm/




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Limelight (NSB #4) by #AlysonSantos


Limelight (NSB #4)

Step into the limelight on March 12th.
LIMELIGHT by Alyson Santos is coming soon!
Keep reading for an excerpt!

ADD TO YOUR TBR ➤ http://bit.ly/2BcAuSy

I’m unpredictable.
A genius, an underachiever.
I’m the song, the voice, the passion, the pain.
I am failure.
I do music because it’s what I am, but sometimes that’s not enough.
A slave to my nature, I wait for it to show mercy and drop a gift in my lap.
Because the music chose me.
I’m its victim not its gift.
She destroyed my career.
Ruined my life.
Pushed me from the shadows and exposed my lies.
She’s the fire that destroys lesser men,
and now her flames are aimed at me.
She loves to watch me burn,
but the part we never saw coming?
Sometimes it takes a fire to ignite a spark
And slay the darkness.



“Hey, rock star,” she purrs, homing in on me. I feel the amusement of our audience. Just as long as they keep it to themselves.

“What’s up? Enjoy the show?”


Eye-fuck. Yep, that’s a thing. Those curves, too. I glance back at the guys who are pretending… no they’re not even pretending.

“I’ll be back down to pack up.” I take Becca’s arm amidst a chorus of farewells. If all goes well, they’ll each have their own girl by the end of the night. Well, except Reece who remains faithful to his imaginary lady. He’ll make a real woman happy one day.

Now I’m snickering.

“What’s so funny?” Becca asks as we board the elevator.

“Nothing. You cool with heading up to my room for a while? The guys can be a lot to take when they unwind.”

“Fine with me.” The flirty tone is back. She even takes my arm to reinforce it. “You guys were so so good.”

I manage a quick smile. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. Like, one of the best shows I’ve seen.”


“I’ve seen a lot, too.” She supports this by listing every single one of them as the elevator crawls to the 9th floor. I clench my jaw while counting each number on the slowest climb ever.

“Did you know I bought the songs from your first EP? Even before you were big. I’ve been talking about you guys for years. Ask Rach.”

“That so?” Don’t know Rach.

“Yep. Omigod. Look,” she pulls down the neckline of her shirt to expose a tattoo on her shoulder. It’s the candle from the cover art of our Candlelight EP. “See? Toldya.”

I guess she thinks tattoos come with timestamps?

“I’m honored.”

Shit. I was hoping for an easy night.

The elevator finally finds our floor, and I motion for her to exit.

“Ooh! And polite too? Such a gentleman.”


“Which is yours?”


“Omigod. I love that number.”

Of course she does.

“You’re not gonna believe this but my dorm room freshman year was 907!”

I check my phone but there are no urgent messages to get me out of this.

“You want a drink?” I ask as we move inside.

“Really? Omigod! I can’t believe this is happening! My sisters are going to die!”

I force a nod as my brain runs through a quick inventory of recent groupie failures:

DEA Girl.

Regret and Bolt Girl

Natasha—Assault Girl.

With that track record, of course I’m about to hook up with Omigod Girl.

Maybe I need to try celibacy for a while.

I find her enraptured with the minibar when I tune back in.

“They’re so adorable! Omigod, look at this one. Ahh! What are you having?”

“Help yourself. I need a minute.”

I lock myself in the bathroom and lean against the sink. I can do this. I need this, just…

Shower. Perfect.

“I’m gonna rinse off,” I call out, unnecessarily I learn when her face appears in the crack of the door.

“Want some company?”

“Thanks, but it’ll be quick.”

I click the lock and soothe my head against cool wood. This is my life. These are my connections.

It used to be enough.


A hot shower and booking a high-profile gig do wonders for my mood. I shake the water from my hair and wrap a towel around my waist. I feel somewhat guilty about my harsh appraisal of groupie Becca as I pull open the door, especially when she no longer hovers right outside. Maybe she’s not as clingy as I feared. Clingy ones are the worst. Another hard-learned truth that required Luke’s intervention on tour.

I cross into the main area of the room and…

“Uh, hi,” I say to the four additional girls in my room. My room. My crowded, invaded room.

“Oh hey, babe! These are my sisters: Rachel, Liz, Elisa, and Lara.” They look nothing alike, as in: “Sorority sisters!” she shrieks for the sake of my confusion.

They all laugh at that and—shit.

“I hope it’s okay. When I told them about us, they just really wanted to meet you. They were at the show too.”


“We love your music. We play your stuff at the house all the time,” the redhead says.

“All the time,” Becca clarifies with an emphatic nod.

“That’s great. Uh, you mind if I get dressed?”

“What if we said yes?” The Blonde’s lashes flutter with mischief straight out of a ‘50s movie. A six-some? Is that even logistically possible?

I force a tight smile, and open my suitcase.

Whispers and giggles scatter behind me like I’m back in middle school. It’s not attractive and not at all how I planned for this night to go. No, I’m a pair of jeans and a t-shirt away from returning to the green room with the guys. Maybe they’ll be more interested in a college orgy.

“Hey, I’ve got to get back to help pack up our gear. You ladies want to hang down in the green room?”

“We’d rather hang here.”

Becca is right there when she says it, and I take a step back.

For two seconds I hesitate. They’re cute. I’m horny… and then I remember my track record.

DEA Girl

Regret and Bolt Girl

Assault Girl

Omigod Girl who’s now multiplied into five Stalker Girls

Shoulder-Luke screams: Is it worth five Stalker Girls?

Is anything worth five Stalker Girls?

Then again, they’re cute and I’m horny.

I suck in a breath and grab a change of clothes. “Thanks for the offer, but as I said, we’ve gotta pack up. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Aww, you sure?” Becca asks. “We don’t mind waiting.” Her fingers trail up my arm, and I don’t know why I’m surprised by her boldness. She’s done nothing but overstep boundaries since the moment we met. I was okay with that until she multiplied.

“Sorry,” I say with a shrug, and back out of reach. “I’ll meet you down there.”

A chorus of whining reinforces my decision, and I’m relieved when they take the hint and file toward the door. I smile apologetically through a veil of disappointed looks as it clears out.

What the fuck?

I lower myself to the bed and run a hand through my hair. I’m twenty-three years old. A musician. Single. Why the hell can’t I find a sane girl? Not asking for a soulmate here, just a girl who won’t freaking try to kill me or invite an entire sorority house to intrude on our night together. Am I being unreasonable?

As if on cue, my phone buzzes with an update from the Queen of Kingdom Crazy.

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About the Author:

I’m a writer, musician, and cat lover. I also have an alternative music obsession. Seriously, it’s a real problem.

I write what needs to come out, whether it’s pain, tears, or laughter. I write people and relationships, about the beauty and horror of what we do to ourselves and each other. I write Love. Vengeance. Compassion. Cruelty. Trust. Betrayal. Forgiveness. Darkness, and the incredible way humans destroy and heal each other.

I like to eradicate barriers, refusing to be confined by the laws of physics or limitations of reality. I will befriend a vast population of possibilities and introduce them in ways that might surprise you.

Connect with Alyson!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authoralysonsantos/
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