Bad Boy Redemption by Candy J. Starr
(Rock Star Bad Boy #3)
Publication date: July 7th 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
Synopsis:
Life is sweet for Hannah and Jack. Finally, they are together and Jack’s band, Storm, have been signed to a major label after completing a successful tour.
Then tragedy hits the band, sending Jack off the rails. Hannah wants him to make peace with the demons from his past but he refuses to face up to his issues. Meanwhile, Hannah has problems of her own when her father’s crimes are exposed, and are much worse than she’d ever expected.
Are they damned beyond repair or can their love redeem them?
AUTHOR BIO
Candy 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.
Author Links:
Bad Boy Redemption - Excerpt 1
The cheers going up, the whooping and screaming, ear-drum blasting noise, wasn’t for the headlining band. It wasn’t even for the second support. That lung-fuelled anarchy, rocking the room to the very foundations was for my band - Storm. The guys I managed. Every single person in that huge, sold out venue cried out for one more song, one more moment, a chance to wring out the last drops of magic as though clinging to a lover in the morning light.
This was what fame felt like: rapturous, loud and hungry.
The guys had just done the last song of their set, the reverberations still ringing from the cymbals on Spud’s drum kit, when the tour promoter gestured for them to stay on stage. When you’re the opening band, the first ones up on stage, normally you get to play to a bunch of bored faces of the diehard fans there to mark their territory for the headliners. Most people are still circling around the car park. No one cares about the opening act.
But, since this tour started a few short weeks ago, Storm’s star had blasted through the skies. Through word of mouth and careful promotion, their fame had risen, not in a nice steady curve but exponentially.
As the band travelled from town to town, the number of punters waiting when the doors opened increased and the proportion of bodies in the crowd wearing Storm tee-shirts grew larger. Those people sang along with the guys, knowing all the words and even called out their favourites. Of course, there were no hit songs to scream out because Storm hadn’t even released a song as yet, just a few demo CDs they’d sold at their concerts and some songs available online for download. Angie had told me that the downloads had been going nuts. Not viral, but as close to viral as you can get without actually being viral, is what she said.
And we were about to hit the next level. Right after this gig finished, well maybe after some time for partying and unwinding, they hit the studio to record their first album, the ink still wet on the contract they’d signed.
Back when I’d found out the only asset I’d had in this world was a crappy management company with a few has-beens and a surly, disagreeable rock band on their roster, I’d never dreamed we’d get this far. I’d wanted to get rid of that company as quickly as possible and get some fast cash.
With all the buzz from this tour, the deal I’d struck for the guys had more zeroes than they’d ever thought they’d see and a lot more creative freedom. Those labels who’d not even answered my calls once had wooed me like a superstar. Taking me to dinners and cocktail parties just to put their offers forward. One of them had booked out suites at a fancy hotel for the guys for this final leg of the tour. Another had sent a crate of booze. And one had sent a massive bouquet of flowers.
“Knob jockeys,” Spud had said. “Flowers. Phhht. You can’t eat them, you can’t snort them and you can’t screw them. Who the hell would want some sissy flowers?”
That was Spud for you, though I could see his point for once.
I leaned on a crate at the side of the stage wishing I had Angie beside me. She’d been with me since the start of this adventure. I’d probably had been living in the gutter if it wasn’t for her - pushing me in the right direction and taking over all the promotion. But Angie and her mates were busy filming this gig. Her first fully professional job she’d been offered, because the Monkey Bride team had been so impressed with her efforts with filming at the beginning of the tour.
Jack Colt swaggered off stage. Jack, he never walked, he always swaggered. He’d been a god on stage. His voice had sent shivers through my body the whole night and his hips had moved in a way that made me glow with the knowledge that I’d be the one in his bed tonight. I felt sorry for every other woman in the crowd because they’d just be imagining that it was Jack Colt humping them while I had the real thing.
His sweat-soaked tee-shirt clung to his body, defining every bump of his body and, boy, did that man have some nice bumps. His hair stuck to his face where he’d thrown water over his head to cool himself down and his bottom lip pouted. He locked eye contact with me and my heart pounded louder than the screams of the crowd.
“What are you doing?” yelled the tour promoter. “Get back out there.”
“Hold on a moment,” Jack Colt snapped.
He swept me into his arms, crushing my body against his. His mouth hit mine and my body writhed as emotions swirled through me, lifting me up to my toes. I savoured his bourbon soaked lips. He kissed me hard as though searching for something that would give him the energy to go back on stage. He must have found it because he pulled away as quickly as he’d started. He ripped off his shirt and sprung back on stage. The roar of the crowd intensified.
“I’m going to have to watch these guys,” said a voice in my ear. I turned to see Bastian, the leader singer of Monkey Bride, standing beside me. “They’re going to steal the final night right out from under me.”
Behind him, the members of the second support glared at the stage with a mixture of envy and hatred. This extra stage time meant their set would be cut short. They’d had their chance on this tour but they’d not been able to step up to the plate. The adoration they thought they’d receive washed right over them and settled on Storm. Sure, they could keep working at it but every band has a moment where they can either prove they have the chops to move to the next level or settle for playing to a small group of regulars until they get too old and too tired to keep trying.
I laughed as the band began their encore song. At that moment, it did seem like Storm had the world at their feet. They were headed for the top and they were indestructible.
Bad Boy Redemption – excerpt 2
I came downstairs in my suit. Jack always laughed at me when he saw me dressed like a “corporate bitch” but this time he wasn’t laughing. He’d slept on the couch again, as though he felt obligated to do so now, but woke up when he heard me in the kitchen.
“You aren’t still going to work for that guy?”
“Yes. It’s my job.”
He glared at me.
“We don’t need the money. You have a job - managing my band.”
“And having contract law experience is only making me better at that job.”
He stared at me and I stared back. I sure as hell wasn’t going to back down on this. I couldn’t let him start controlling my life or who knows where it would end.
“He’s a creep. You said so yourself. And you’ll be alone in that office with him all day. That isn’t good, Hannah.”
I turned on the coffee machine and let the noise drown out his voice. I remembered last Thursday, we’d gone a whole day without arguing. That was a great day. I should circle it on my calendar.
I made Jack a coffee, despite his bitching.
“I can look after myself. I’ve known this guy since I was a kid. He’s not going to start sexually harassing me now. He’d get a swift kick in the balls and a lawsuit. I’m not a simpering little sap who can’t stick up for myself. Anyway, there’s a whole office full of people. It’s not like we’re alone.”
“Cheers,” said Jack, picking up his coffee. “Is there every going to be a day when I say something and you go ‘yeah, Jack, you are totally right, I’ll do that’?”
I sat down beside him.
“Chances are pretty damn low on that, I’d say.”
Jack laughed.
“You wouldn’t love me if I was like that anyway.” I punched him on the arm.
“Who says I love you?”
“You do, every time you look at me and every time you speak to me. You may as well get a tattoo on your face saying ‘I love Hannah’ because that’s how much it shows.”
Jack’s kiss tasted like coffee and that made it all the sweeter. It was like multitasking.
Then tragedy hits the band, sending Jack off the rails. Hannah wants him to make peace with the demons from his past but he refuses to face up to his issues. Meanwhile, Hannah has problems of her own when her father’s crimes are exposed, and are much worse than she’d ever expected.
Are they damned beyond repair or can their love redeem them?
AUTHOR BIO
Candy 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.
Author Links:
Bad Boy Redemption - Excerpt 1
The cheers going up, the whooping and screaming, ear-drum blasting noise, wasn’t for the headlining band. It wasn’t even for the second support. That lung-fuelled anarchy, rocking the room to the very foundations was for my band - Storm. The guys I managed. Every single person in that huge, sold out venue cried out for one more song, one more moment, a chance to wring out the last drops of magic as though clinging to a lover in the morning light.
This was what fame felt like: rapturous, loud and hungry.
The guys had just done the last song of their set, the reverberations still ringing from the cymbals on Spud’s drum kit, when the tour promoter gestured for them to stay on stage. When you’re the opening band, the first ones up on stage, normally you get to play to a bunch of bored faces of the diehard fans there to mark their territory for the headliners. Most people are still circling around the car park. No one cares about the opening act.
But, since this tour started a few short weeks ago, Storm’s star had blasted through the skies. Through word of mouth and careful promotion, their fame had risen, not in a nice steady curve but exponentially.
As the band travelled from town to town, the number of punters waiting when the doors opened increased and the proportion of bodies in the crowd wearing Storm tee-shirts grew larger. Those people sang along with the guys, knowing all the words and even called out their favourites. Of course, there were no hit songs to scream out because Storm hadn’t even released a song as yet, just a few demo CDs they’d sold at their concerts and some songs available online for download. Angie had told me that the downloads had been going nuts. Not viral, but as close to viral as you can get without actually being viral, is what she said.
And we were about to hit the next level. Right after this gig finished, well maybe after some time for partying and unwinding, they hit the studio to record their first album, the ink still wet on the contract they’d signed.
Back when I’d found out the only asset I’d had in this world was a crappy management company with a few has-beens and a surly, disagreeable rock band on their roster, I’d never dreamed we’d get this far. I’d wanted to get rid of that company as quickly as possible and get some fast cash.
With all the buzz from this tour, the deal I’d struck for the guys had more zeroes than they’d ever thought they’d see and a lot more creative freedom. Those labels who’d not even answered my calls once had wooed me like a superstar. Taking me to dinners and cocktail parties just to put their offers forward. One of them had booked out suites at a fancy hotel for the guys for this final leg of the tour. Another had sent a crate of booze. And one had sent a massive bouquet of flowers.
“Knob jockeys,” Spud had said. “Flowers. Phhht. You can’t eat them, you can’t snort them and you can’t screw them. Who the hell would want some sissy flowers?”
That was Spud for you, though I could see his point for once.
I leaned on a crate at the side of the stage wishing I had Angie beside me. She’d been with me since the start of this adventure. I’d probably had been living in the gutter if it wasn’t for her - pushing me in the right direction and taking over all the promotion. But Angie and her mates were busy filming this gig. Her first fully professional job she’d been offered, because the Monkey Bride team had been so impressed with her efforts with filming at the beginning of the tour.
Jack Colt swaggered off stage. Jack, he never walked, he always swaggered. He’d been a god on stage. His voice had sent shivers through my body the whole night and his hips had moved in a way that made me glow with the knowledge that I’d be the one in his bed tonight. I felt sorry for every other woman in the crowd because they’d just be imagining that it was Jack Colt humping them while I had the real thing.
His sweat-soaked tee-shirt clung to his body, defining every bump of his body and, boy, did that man have some nice bumps. His hair stuck to his face where he’d thrown water over his head to cool himself down and his bottom lip pouted. He locked eye contact with me and my heart pounded louder than the screams of the crowd.
“What are you doing?” yelled the tour promoter. “Get back out there.”
“Hold on a moment,” Jack Colt snapped.
He swept me into his arms, crushing my body against his. His mouth hit mine and my body writhed as emotions swirled through me, lifting me up to my toes. I savoured his bourbon soaked lips. He kissed me hard as though searching for something that would give him the energy to go back on stage. He must have found it because he pulled away as quickly as he’d started. He ripped off his shirt and sprung back on stage. The roar of the crowd intensified.
“I’m going to have to watch these guys,” said a voice in my ear. I turned to see Bastian, the leader singer of Monkey Bride, standing beside me. “They’re going to steal the final night right out from under me.”
Behind him, the members of the second support glared at the stage with a mixture of envy and hatred. This extra stage time meant their set would be cut short. They’d had their chance on this tour but they’d not been able to step up to the plate. The adoration they thought they’d receive washed right over them and settled on Storm. Sure, they could keep working at it but every band has a moment where they can either prove they have the chops to move to the next level or settle for playing to a small group of regulars until they get too old and too tired to keep trying.
I laughed as the band began their encore song. At that moment, it did seem like Storm had the world at their feet. They were headed for the top and they were indestructible.
Bad Boy Redemption – excerpt 2
I came downstairs in my suit. Jack always laughed at me when he saw me dressed like a “corporate bitch” but this time he wasn’t laughing. He’d slept on the couch again, as though he felt obligated to do so now, but woke up when he heard me in the kitchen.
“You aren’t still going to work for that guy?”
“Yes. It’s my job.”
He glared at me.
“We don’t need the money. You have a job - managing my band.”
“And having contract law experience is only making me better at that job.”
He stared at me and I stared back. I sure as hell wasn’t going to back down on this. I couldn’t let him start controlling my life or who knows where it would end.
“He’s a creep. You said so yourself. And you’ll be alone in that office with him all day. That isn’t good, Hannah.”
I turned on the coffee machine and let the noise drown out his voice. I remembered last Thursday, we’d gone a whole day without arguing. That was a great day. I should circle it on my calendar.
I made Jack a coffee, despite his bitching.
“I can look after myself. I’ve known this guy since I was a kid. He’s not going to start sexually harassing me now. He’d get a swift kick in the balls and a lawsuit. I’m not a simpering little sap who can’t stick up for myself. Anyway, there’s a whole office full of people. It’s not like we’re alone.”
“Cheers,” said Jack, picking up his coffee. “Is there every going to be a day when I say something and you go ‘yeah, Jack, you are totally right, I’ll do that’?”
I sat down beside him.
“Chances are pretty damn low on that, I’d say.”
Jack laughed.
“You wouldn’t love me if I was like that anyway.” I punched him on the arm.
“Who says I love you?”
“You do, every time you look at me and every time you speak to me. You may as well get a tattoo on your face saying ‘I love Hannah’ because that’s how much it shows.”
Jack’s kiss tasted like coffee and that made it all the sweeter. It was like multitasking.
No comments:
Post a Comment