by Lisa Suzanne
The show cuts and Melanie ignores Danny and Nicole as she reviews the notes on her desk. I hug both of them and then switch seats with Danny, and when the show returns, Melanie says. “Welcome back! Rock star Dax Hunter has a few updates of his own, so let’s dive right in. We watched you on tour with Vail last year. How did that go?”
“It was incredible,” I say. “It went so well, in fact, that Vail’s lead singer, Mark Ashton, signed MFB to his record label. We’ve got a tour planned for next summer, and we’ve got a new album dropping March twelfth.”
“Amazing,” Mel says, and I try not to roll my eyes at her. “And I hear we’ll be seeing more of you on television?”
I grin. “Set your DVRs this January for the premier of Rock on the Road, a brand new reality series I’m producing with Mark Ashton. Each season it’ll follow a band from the inception of a record all the way through the end of the tour to promote it.”
I don’t say it, but I think it for the millionth time: it’s a reality show where I hire the producers—people who care and support the stars of the show, not people who use and manipulate.
She claps her hands together. “How exciting! So with all these new opportunities for Dax Hunter, our viewers are dying to know—what ever happened with the girl who signed you up to appear on the first season of Take My Heart?”
I glance offstage behind Melanie’s right shoulder, where I see Kylie standing as she watches our interview. It can’t be easy for her to see me chatting with someone I slept with once upon a time, but over the last year, I’ve done everything in my power to make sure she knows my heart belongs to her.
“Why don’t we bring her out and let her answer that question?” I ask.
Melanie claps her hands together in excitement again, and I can’t actually believe I once slept with her. She’s so unlike the woman I love.
Kylie walks out onto the stage. She’s not used to being in the spotlight, and she’s all sorts of cute and awkward. Danny and Nicole both move over a seat, and after I kiss Kylie and hold her in my arms for a second, we both sit.
“This is Kylie,” I say, tossing a casual arm around her shoulders.
“How did you two end up together?” Mel asks.
I glance at her and nod for her to field this question. Her voice is a little shaky when she starts talking, and I squeeze her shoulder for support. “I think we both had these feelings for each other that we were just afraid to act on. Dax learned a lot about himself during the process of this show, not the least of which was opening his heart and taking a look inside.”
“And when I did that,” I say, “all I saw was her.”
I look over at her, and she looks up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes.
“So it’s safe to say you two are together now?” Melanie asks.
Kylie holds up a finger with the ring I just gave her a week ago. “Forever.”
Melanie’s jaw drops and the women from this season lined up on stools behind her all gasp. “You’re engaged?” Mel asks.
Kylie and I look at each other and we both grin and nod. I lean over and kiss her.
“Wow, I never thought I’d see the day!” Mel says.
I almost glare at her, but I refrain. Instead, I make a snarky comment. “When you’ve had enough of the wrong women, you just know when the right one comes along.”
Melanie never stops smiling, though I see a quick tick of her jaw as she clenches her teeth. I hold back a laugh. “So when’s the wedding?” she asks.
“We just got engaged last week,” I say. “We haven’t made too many plans just yet, but we’re thinking next summer after the tour.”
“Oh, tell us the story of how it happened!” Mel begs. I know she’s doing it for the viewers, not because she wants to hear it.
Kylie looks at me, and I nod at her to tell it. “Well, let me tell you. This guy is not just another rock star. He’s sweet and funny, sexy and generous. He’s good at surprises, and he always knows how to put me at the center of his world. He told me there was a secret Vail performance he wanted to take me to, and when we got there, I quickly realized it was secret because it was just for us. We danced to our favorite song and at the end of it, he got down on his knee and asked me. Our closest friends and family members came rushing out to congratulate us as soon as I said yes.”
Melanie’s smile is so fake she looks like a robot. “That’s beautiful,” she says.
I can’t stop smiling. I haven’t stopped since the day Kylie played the reunion show and we finally confessed how we both felt.
“Well it sounds like even though no one took your heart on this show, you found the one,” Melanie says to me.
“I did,” I say. “And if it wasn’t for this show, I might not have found her. So maybe I didn’t give my heart away to any of the contestants, but Kylie did take my heart, and I was a fool for not handing it over to her sooner.”
acknowledgments (and a little backstory)
This project was over three years in the making. If you’ve read Not Just Another Romance Novel, you’ve met Dax before. That book began as an idea my husband had where the main character dated all the different types of book boyfriends. (Thanks, hubs, for that one, and since I always thank my boys first, thank you also to my sweet toddler, Mason. You give the world’s best hugs.)
I fell in love with my rock star when I wrote that book, and I started writing Dax’s book immediately after I published NJARN, as we lovingly call it in my house. I wrote about 26k words before I ran into a wall and really wanted to write a cheating book (which ended up being Conflicted). Then came Clickbait, Stalemate, and Outwait. And then my Destiny series, followed by the Unbreakable Thread duet, the Truth and Lies duet... and then, finally, Dax spoke to me again.
I picked it back up in sort of a funny way, actually. I was talking to an author friend, Maria Luis, about how I had a book with a reality show in it. She did, too. I said I’d written a little less than half of it and wondered where I left it off since it had been nearly three years since I last touched it.
I opened the document and read through those 26,000 words in a flash. I was inspired, and I wanted Dax to have his story. I love him, his crazy shirts, and his love for pancakes, and I finished his story in a few weeks.
I hope you loved it, and if you did, don’t forget to leave a review.
Thank you to Maria for inspiring me to finish this book and the rest of the 30Dto60K crew who helped me sprint the heck out of this one.
Thank you to Trenda London for the content edits. I love working with you always.
Thank you to Clarise at CT Cover Creations for nailing this cover so effortlessly. I love it! And speaking of the cover, thank you to Neil Danvers for the gorgeous image and to Devin Paisley for being the Dax I’ve envisioned for three years (seriously, check out my Pinterest board).
Thank you to my brother for reserving the DAXSHIRTS.COM domain. Seriously, Dax’s t-shirts are a real thing. Go check them out and be sure to submit your own t-shirt ideas!
Thank you to Katie Harder-Schauer for adding options to my polls...oh, and for proofreading.
Thank you to Stephanie, Diane, and Jen for beta reading. I love you three ladies big.
Thank you to Give Me Books for the release blitz and party, and thank you to my Bookstagram team for your awesome work with the cover reveal. To all the bloggers and readers who are reading this, I couldn’t continue to live my dream without you. Thank you.
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about the author
Lisa Suzanne is a romance author who resides in Arizona with her husband and baby boy. She’s a former high school English teacher and college composition instructor. When she's not cuddling baby Mason, she can be found working on her latest book or watching reruns of Friends.
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books by Lisa Suzanne
NOT JUST ANOTHER ROMANCE NOVEL
A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY SERIES
A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY (Book One)
ONLY EVER YOU (Book Two)
CLEAN BREAK (Book Three)
THE UNBREAKABLE THREAD DUET
THE POWER TO BREAK (Book One)
THE INVISIBLE THREAD (Book Two)
THE POWER TO BREAK - AUDIOBOOK
THE TRUTH AND LIES DUET
IT STARTED WITH A LIE (Book One)
IT ENDED WITH THE TRUTH (Book Two)
CLICK HERE FOR MORE
Flip the page for a preview of A Little Like Destiny, Lisa Suzanne’s #1 bestselling rock star romance.
A LITTLE LIKE DESTINY: PREVIEW
A Little Like Destiny Book One
©2017 LISA SUZANNE
one
The floor to ceiling windows offer a once in a lifetime panorama of the glowing lights of Las Vegas Boulevard forty-seven stories below me. I should still be asleep next to the man who spent the last two hours pushing me to the brink of pleasure again and again, but if I sleep, my eyes are closed instead of drinking in the view.
“Come back to bed.” The smooth, velvet voice I know so well wraps around me, soft and sleepy as he issues a clear demand. Something low in my belly flutters as I turn to look at him. The lights out the window are mesmerizing, but the man in the bed offers an unmatched view.
I pull his cashmere blanket more tightly around my bare shoulders.
I fantasize that this is my life for just a second as his breathing evens—that he wants to be with me, that he’s calling me back to bed in the penthouse suite he calls home because he wants me there, that this wasn’t just a one-night stand, that we could have a future together.
It’s fun to pretend, but a fantasy is all it’ll ever be.
He’s The Mark Ashton, lead singer of Vail, my favorite band…everybody’s favorite band.
He’s the man I stare at on the pages of magazines and follow on every possible social media platform with the hope to see a tiny glimpse inside his private life. He’s the man I’ve obsessed over and lusted after for the better part of ten years—since I was in high school and Vail’s first single hit the radio.
He’s also the man known for sleeping with a different woman every night, and I count myself fortunate that I happen to be his Saturday night special this week.
I don’t know how I’ll feel tomorrow, but tonight the only word that describes me is lucky.
We’re on the top floor of a building in the center of the world-renowned Las Vegas Strip after he spent hours kissing me, touching me, showing me that the rumors about his talents beneath the sheets are true. He knows what he’s doing. He’s everything I thought he’d be, more than I could’ve imagined. He was slow and sensual with me, caring and tender. He treated me with respect even though the rules were clear from the start.
He didn’t have to say it, exactly, but I knew the expectation the second I secured my invitation back to his place. Girls don’t go home with Mark Ashton thinking it’ll lead to anything more than one night. I wish the reality was different, but that’s not who he is and it’s not what he does.
He’s the very definition of a rock star. He makes a woman feel special for one night before he moves onto the next one. You hear the stories all the time, but you never think of the women who get left behind. It’s such a double standard—I think of them as groupies, a little slutty, definitely a little unethical...and now I’m one of them.
I don’t see myself that way, though. I’m not a groupie. I’m far from a slut. I pride myself on my ethics and my morals. I’m just a girl who couldn’t pass up her one shot at being with the rock star of her dreams.
It’s hard to reconcile what I felt for him tonight with what I know about him. Now I know him on a personal level. I’ve been in his home, in his bed. He knows me on a carnal level. He’s been in my mind, my heart, my body.
That all just makes it so much more difficult to walk out his door.
Does he do this with every woman he brings back to his place? Does he open up and let them in the way he did with me tonight? Is that how he’s able to get so many women to sleep with him?
Or was I somehow different?
I want to think I’m different, but insecurity rears its ugly head. As I turn my gaze back out the window to the lights twinkling below, I remind myself I’m just one in a long line of women—just the one he brought home tonight. Just the one who will leave in the morning thinking she’s different, thinking she’s the one who can tame his womanizing ways, thinking she’s the one he’d give up everything for.
I can’t let myself truly believe any of that for even a second, though. My heart can’t handle that sort of fracture. Even though I wish it could be more, it won’t be.
It will always be just one night.
two
When the elevator doors open, I step on and push the button for the main level. That’ll get me back out to the Strip, and then I can start the mile-long walk back to Mandalay Bay, where my car sits in the lot and my best friend sleeps in the hotel.
I threw my morals away for one night with a legend. I silently judge my friend Tess for sleeping with men she barely knows, yet I did the same thing.
It felt like I knew him, though. I’ve spent countless hours with him over the past ten years. His songs play on repeat. I fangirled when he came to town for a concert, set my DVR to record every appearance he had on those late-night talk shows, read every article I could get my obsessive hands on. Of course I felt like I knew him—he’s been a part of my life for a long time.
But I never actually met him until last night.
My brain is muddled with conflicting emotions: what I did was disgusting and shameful, yet it was beautiful and totally worth it. It was a night to remember forever, yet a night I don’t ever want to tell anyone about.
It feels wrong to abandon this place without leaving my number or some way for him to get in touch with me, but I’ve never done this before—never had a one-night stand or slept with one of the most famous rock stars in the world.
But all that changed last night, and now everything going forward will be tainted with this one event.
I’m all out of sorts. I’ve always been a rule follower, but how am I supposed to follow the rules when I don’t know what they are?
I draw in a deep breath as the burn of tears smarts behind my eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
The chant is useless. Tears burn their way down my cheeks. I’m alone in an elevator after leaving Mark Ashton’s penthouse suite. Alone with my thoughts and images that’ll be burned in my mind for a long time to come—a hand running along my thigh, a tongue flicking my skin, a finger teasing my hip. His mouth caressing mine.
Euphoria clings to me after the night we shared. No man has ever made me feel so cherished. He handled my body with skill and ease, took care of my needs before he thought of himself. That euphoria sends a shot of giddiness through my stomach.
But reality crashed over me when I woke up. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing him—of him asking me to leave after last night.
So, I decided not to give him that chance.
Is this how all women feel during the walk of shame after one glorious night? I want to go back up to him, to crawl back into bed next to him. But wants and needs are two very different things, and I need to get back to my life and start the process of forgetting last night ever happened.
I just have no idea how to do that. I guess it’s time for me to write my own rule book here: How to Exit a One-Night Stand with Some Shred of Dignity.
I dig through my purse for my sunglasses. Chapter one of my rule book will help me get through the main level of the hotel on my way out to th
e Strip if I can at least cover my puffy, red, tear-leaking eyes.
I keep digging, unable to find my dumbass sunglasses under all the crap in my purse, including an array of make-up that I didn’t bother to use this morning. He was still asleep when I left. Why didn’t I at least say goodbye? If there’s anything I regret about the last nine hours, it’s that. I snuck out before he even woke up, and now I’ll never get the chance.
And that’s exactly where my confusion lies. Despite the shame pulling at my conscience, I don’t regret what I did.
I push angrily at the tears still coursing down my cheeks then pull my purse from my shoulder and balance it on my knee. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored elevator doors and look away in humiliation. I focus for a second on the numbers as they change with each floor we pass. I’m moving closer to the first floor as the elevator carries me further from Mark.
I search frantically through my purse, frustrated that I can’t find my stupid sunglasses, that I’m crying, that my face is a blotchy, disgusting mess, that I just left his place knowing I won’t be invited back.
This was a mistake, one night to mar an otherwise spotless record. I’m not good enough for someone like him, not wild and crazy enough, not famous, not even close to his league. If he’s playing in the majors, I’m basically the sister of the ball boy for some middle school team. That’s how far apart our worlds are, but he allowed me to dream for just a few bright minutes last night. He allowed me to step out of playing the role of the good girl to do something naughty and completely out of character for once in my life.
I’d give up everything for him—I’d have done that before I even met him last night. Both my best friend Jill and I have obsessed over him for years. He and the drummer from his band appeared on a reality show together, and we watched every episode and then watched again and again. In my fantasy world, I’d quit my job to tour around the world with him and Vail. I’d be best friends with the wives or girlfriends of the other band members.
