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Is theirs a match made in heaven...or hell?
Nick Channing, drummer for Fully Automatic, has never taken sex seriously. He’s
had fun and met dozens of women—mostly one-night stands—and he prefers it that
way. From his parents to his friends, he’s witnessed love and relationships
firsthand and believes women are nothing but a headache.
Nick, Brad, and Val team up again to launch her new band Val Hella. There’s one
problem, though: they still need a bassist. They audition dozens of women,
trying to find the perfect one and settle on Sabrina, known onstage simply as
Sinna, a bad ass metal head who’s perfect for the band: pierced, tattooed,
dressed in black from head to toe, and she handles her bass with precision. She
is a force to be reckoned with and Nick is smitten.
When Nick gets her alone the first time to lay on the charm, he’s met with a
coolness he’s never experienced. Sabrina is mysterious and thoroughly
unimpressed with Nick and his behavior, and that’s when he decides he has to
have her. As he falls headlong for her, he discovers her secrets, one dark
shadow at a time. He thinks she loves him back, but he can’t be sure. By the
time he’s completely down the rabbit hole, his heart’s so entangled, he fears
he might not be able to save himself. Can she save him or will she wreck him
for all time?
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“What tricks you
got, babycakes?”
Brina’s voice was low, almost derisive. “I don’t need
tricks. My playing speaks for itself.”
He couldn’t let that one go.
“Yeah, and how many personal fans do you have, Sinna?”
She sneered—actually sneered—and,
for some strange reason, Nick felt a twitch in his cock at the sight. He stopped himself from bursting into
laughter, because that would have made her angrier. While he didn’t mind her angry, he hoped to
be able to enjoy a real conversation.
She took two steps closer to him and said, “I don’t count how many
personal fans I have, if I even have any. It’s not about me, Nick, any more than it’s about you.” Her voice wrapped around his name like honey,
but it oozed disgust. He still wasn’t
sure if he found it hot or not. She
continued, not giving him a chance to evaluate his emotions. “It’s about us as a group, as a band, and until we gel, there will be division,
and if we’re not cohesive, what the hell kind of music are we gonna make?”
“I see your point, but I have a counterpoint. If you are all about the band and don’t give
a shit about yourself, then where’s your pride?
Your personal responsibility?” He
stood up. He’d been joking before, but
now he was dead serious. Some small part
of himself felt like she might be questioning his integrity, and that pissed
him off. “When you fuck up onstage—and you will—will you blame all of
us? We’re a band, after all.” He couldn’t help the tone in his voice. There would be no way for her to mistake how
irritated he was becoming. It had been
cute before, but now she was pushing some button that set him off. He wasn’t sure if he was angrier with her for
pissing him off or himself for getting mad at her in the first place.
She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on, Nick. You know
that’s not what I meant.” She got closer
to him.
He closed the gap, so close that their noses almost
touched. “How the fuck should I know
that?” His eyes searched hers, trying to
decide if she was wanting to start a war.
But then, as he continued looking back and forth between those blue
orbs, he saw them soften ever so slightly.
He let his jaw relax a little then, but he still couldn’t quite read
her.
Her words, however, were still acerbic. “Because you’re a smart fucking guy.” She cocked an eyebrow again. He couldn’t decide if he fucking loved the
way she did that or if it was just another irritant. “Or so I thought.”
Nick tried once more to assess her and fell short. He could feel some kind of weird electricity
sparking between them. At first, he’d
thought it was the anger, but then he realized that maybe there was something
more. He moved his head a few
centimeters closer and she didn’t budge.
His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “I am a smart fucking guy. I’m
so goddamned smart that I figured out what this is all about.”
She furrowed her previously cocked brow, but he barely saw
it as he brought his mouth down on hers.
He knew that had to be the
issue at hand—the sexual attraction between them both was interfering with
their ability to communicate. It was
making them angry, accusatory, and they weren’t acting like bandmates or even
acquaintances. They were spitting at
each other like they were mortal enemies.
That might have been okay, but Nick definitely had other ideas about
which way their relationship was heading.
He heard her mumble, “What the—?” Then he expected her to fight, based on her
initial stance, but she let go and gave in, kissing him back.
It was an incredible explosion in his head, the sparks he
felt because of the way their tongues danced together and the warmth of her
body close to his. Feeling more in
control then, he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close…
For years, Jade C. Jamison tried really hard to write what
she thought was more “literary” fiction, but she found herself compelled to
write what you read by her today—sometimes gritty, raw, realistic stories and other
times humorous, light tales—but most of the stories she writes revolve around
relationships and characters finding their way through life. While she doesn’t confine herself to just one
genre, nor is there a nice neat label for what she writes, most of her work
could be called erotic romance.
She lives in Colorado with her husband and four children.
For so long, UFC Middleweight fighter, Camden Jameson lived
in his twin brother’s shadow, competing to be the best. When he lost his way,
he turned to the Dark Side and did some unforgiveable things. After his
betrayal, he tried to earn his redemption, but it wasn’t enough. Now his whole
world has fallen apart and he’s on the run from those who want him dead. But
he’s not alone. 
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