Blog Tour: Excerpt + Giveaway: Bad Boy Rock Star

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Title: Bad Boy Rock Star
Author: Candy J. Starr
Publication date: November 18th 2013
Buy the book: Amazon



Hannah Sorrento never planned to be a band manager. She’s a princess and the toughest obstacle she's had in life is finding shoes to match her outfit.

Then her father disappears leaves her with only the money in her purse and a management contract for hot, indie band, STORM. She plans to sell the contract, one way or another, then pack up her designer wardrobe and head back to law school.

But lead singer, Jack Colt, has other ideas. She's never met a man like him before. His raw sexuality is messing with her head and her heart... and a lot of other body parts.

With the help of crazy rock chick, Angie, Hannah sets the band on their first steps to the big time and learns to survive on her own.

But this isn’t some game - soon the threat that Hannah fears most becomes reality.

Jack Colt - he’s arrogant and infuriating but he’s the one that’s there for Hannah when her world comes crashing down. With secrets of his own, will Jack Colt save Hannah or destroy her?

"Come on, let's go for a drink."

"Why are you Mr Friendly all of a sudden?"

He grinned at me, in that way that totally disarmed me. How could he go from being so surly to so charming?

"If you're sticking around, we may as well get to know each other."

My common sense told me that I did NOT want him wanting me to stick around but the fibres of my being tingled. You can't really turn down a drink from a guy who'd saved your life without looking pretty damn ungrateful.

I walked with him to a bar so dark and dingy, it took a while for my eyes to adjust after the glare outside. He strode over to the bar and ordered us both beers.

"I'll get it. You know, to say thank you." I didn't want to make eye contact with him so watched the woman behind the bar. It wouldn't take much to believe she had a bat hidden away in case of trouble and it would take nothing at all to imagine her using it.

"I'll get this one, you can get the next round. Let's play pool."

He punched me on the arm as though I were his best buddy. The happy part of me struggled with the part that waited for this all to fall apart. 

"You know how to play?"

I shook my head. "No idea. Where would I have learnt to play pool?"

"Just watch me and learn."

He put his money in the slot and the balls plonked down. Then he got the triangle and set them up.

"I'll break."

I nodded and sipped my beer.

He took his shot and potted a big ball then took another and missed. He thought he was so good.

"Why don't we have a bet on the game?" I asked. "Isn't that what people do? In movies and stuff?"

"It wouldn't be fair to bet with a beginner."

"It's okay. Just something friendly-like, to make it more interesting." I put my head on the side and smiled at him, all innocent and beguiling.

"Okay. If I win, you tell me the truth about why you’re managing the band."

I drew my lips into a tight line and looked away from him. 

"I guess that's okay, but you have to tell me why such a bad boy rock star lives in that apartment –"

"It's a shithole old warehouse."

"It's worth a bomb. I know real estate and that place can’t be cheap. And that car of yours, it's not within the means of a rocker playing dive bars either."

He shrugged and looked away but his little subterfuge didn't work on me. There was money there somewhere and you couldn't hide it.

"Fine. Loser spills the beans." He drained his beer.

I grabbed the cue, gripping it tightly and walked around the table, deciding where to shoot from. I finally settled on a spot and leaned over the table, propping the cue on one hand while gripping it in my right.

"Wait, let me show how to hold it. Otherwise this'll be like taking candy from a baby."

He unpeeled my fingers from the end of the cue and adjusted them then leaned over me to correct my other hand. The heat of his body rubbed against mine and I could smell that same citrusy scent I'd noticed when I'd woken up in his bed. With his arms around me like that, I could barely think. I was sure the beating of my heart ricocheted right through him. I ordered it to stop. I would not react to his closeness to me. I didn't feel a thing, he could rub against me all he liked, he could leave his hand lingering on my mine and his lips just millimetres from my ear. It did nothing whatsoever.

I squirmed away from him.

"I think I can manage on my own," I said, my voice choking.

I hit out, sending the balls flying. My red ball stopped just near the far pocket.

"Oopsies," I said. "I really thought that would go in."

"Better luck next time."

I went to the bar to get more beers while he took his shot.

He'd sunk a couple of balls while I'd gone but had done no real damage.

A few shots later and he'd sunk most of his balls but I had mine covering the pockets.

"Are you sure you haven't played before?" He narrowed his eyes, appraising me.

"Huh? I've not even got one ball in yet. I thought I'd at least have beginners luck."

I tried to look upset, even stuck my bottom lip out in a pout, but he'd begun to get suspicious. No help for it then, I might as well finish this game off.

I walked up to the table and potted my balls one after the other. As I lined up the black to finish the game, he stared at me.

"You bitch. You pool-sharking bitch."

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About the author:

CCandy J. Starr used to be a band manager until she realised that the band she managed was so lacking in charisma that they actually sucked the charisma out of any room they played. “Screw you,” she said, leaving them to wallow in obscurity – totally forgetting that they owed her big bucks for video equipment hire.

Candy has filmed and interviewed some big names in the rock business, and a lot of small ones. She’s seen the dirty little secrets that go on in the back rooms of band venues. She’s seen the ugly side of rock and the very pretty one.

But, of course, everything she writes is fiction.

You can find her here:

Blog / Twitter / Goodreads