All Gavin Walker, bass player for the multi-platinum selling band, Sphere of Irony, wants to do is surf, play music, and occasionally get laid. The problem is that Gavin has a stalker. A potentially deadly one. The threats he receives always mention something about Gavin being gay, which isn’t public knowledge since the record label wants to keep it quiet.
Mitch Hale used to track serial killers for the FBI. A live-changing incident led him to quit the bureau and start his own company providing computerized security for Los Angeles’ wealthiest people. Mitch doesn’t know anyone when he moves across the country from D.C. to California, and all he has for companionship is a pathetic string of failed relationships with women.
When Gavin’s manager hires Mitch to find the stalker, the men instantly hate each other. Despite the constant fighting, attraction between the two blazes hot, confusing the former FBI agent. Spending time with Gavin forces Mitch reflect on what he’s denied about himself for the last ten years. Listening to Mitch’s plan to catch a madman thrusts Gavin’s personal life out in the open for the entire world to see.
Can Gavin and Mitch stop fighting long enough to stop a stalker before someone gets hurt? Or will they stubbornly resist the feelings that develop when they’re forced to work together?
This is book 3 in a 4 part series. It is a spin-off of the Famous Series. These can be read as standalones.
Molly: What music, if any do you listen to when you write?
Heather: It varies. Usually, I let Pandora chose for me, but sometimes I put on Boyce Avenue. They do acoustic versions of popular songs and are brilliant.
Molly: Are you a full time writer, or part time writer?
Heather: Full time writer, part-time procrastinator.
Molly: What was the transition like between part time and full time writer?
Heather: I was working part-time as a pharmacist for the last 8 years, and in the last year, had only been doing 12 hours/week. I guess it wasn’t that big of a change for me. It’s scary, but exciting.
Molly: Do you have a word count per day you try to hit?
Heather: Nope. I’m a go with the flow kind of person.
Molly: When you finish writing a book, how long before you begin writing the next one?
Heather: Immediately. I have so many stinking stories in my head, they’re practically falling out of my ears.
“I need a drink,” I mutter to no one in particular.
Adam Reynolds must hear me complaining because he places what I assume is a Jack and Coke in my empty hand.
“Here you go, mate.” He grins and I can’t help but smile back. The man’s enthusiasm is infectious.
Gavin, the sourpuss, is currently glaring at me from across the room. So much for us being an item. In the car, Gavin’s excitement at pretending to be boyfriends to lure out his stalker and the accompanying smile he gave had me sprouting questionable wood for most of the drive. Now he’s reverted right back to being a little shit. Hot and cold.
“Thanks, but I’m working—”
“I’ll take it, honey.” Gavin swoops in, steals the glass, and downs half of it before I can blink. I stand there, paralyzed, while I watch his pink lips caress the edge of the glass. “Thanks, dear,” he snaps, pulling me from my gawking. Before I can reply he turns and stomps off to pout somewhere.
I’m annoyed at his attitude and the distance he’s kept between us tonight. What. The. Hell. No way is he going to up and disappear on me at another party. Especially after we paraded ourrelationship in front of the media to lure his stalker out of the shadows.
“Sorry guys,” I apologize to Adam and his wife, Ellie. I was happy to finally meet them both after everything Gemma had told me about the couple when I gave her Adam’s phone number last year. Now I have to cut our conversation short because of yet another Gavin Walker temper tantrum.
Weaving through the crowd at the club, I follow Gavin to the back hallway that houses the kitchen and bathrooms. Once I’m out of sight of the other guests, I grab a shocked Gavin’s upper arm and shove him into the men’s room.
“Hey! Quit being an asshole!” Gavin wrenches out of my grip, turning to sneer. “I’ll put you on your knees again, Hale!”
The thought of being on my knees in front of Gavin sends a flush of heat up my body. I can feel the fire in my cheeks and by the way Gavin’s eyes widen, I’m betting he can see it too.
“I’m not the one behaving like a brat!” I growl in a low voice. Ducking, I check to make sure no one else is in the stalls. Once I’ve made sure it’s clear, I lock the bathroom door.
“Brat?” Gavin shouts. “I’m a brat?”
“Yes, you’re a brat. Ever since we had our picture taken outside, you’ve been unbearable to be around!”
“You’re not the one whose entire life was just turned upside down out there!” he yells.
I step closer, more furious than I’ve ever been. “Are you kidding me? You are so unbelievably self-centered!” Those damn hypnotizing full lips fall open in shock. “I was just outed too, and I’m not even fucking gay!”
Without thinking, I grab either side of his head, digging my fingers into that thick, blonde hair, and crush my mouth over his.
And it’s the hottest kiss of my life.
After growing up in New England, I currently live just outside Atlanta, GA.
I love the Red Sox and hate the Yankees.
I love hot, sexy romance novels, but hate long, drawn out misunderstandings as a plot line.
I love book series, but hate cliffhangers.
I love alpha males, but hate when they borderline on abusive.
Mostly? I love love love chocolate.