Friday, 30 May 2014

Teaser time! A little peek at my rock star romance work-in-progress...


As I get ready for the re-release of my sexy soccer romance Striker, I thought I'd take a little break from working on the promo for that to let you have just a little look at what I'm working on right now. Some of you will probably know it's a rock star romance trilogy, and some of you will be aware that the heat level has been turned up somewhat on these books, which is why I'm not going to post all of Chapter 2 in this teaser. I was going to, but it does start to get really hot after this little taster ends, and I wasn't sure everyone was going to appreciate that. Plus, my dad sometimes stumbles across this blog. Just the thought of him reading the bits I've decided not to post makes me feel quite ill...

Anyway, for those of you who are keen to find out just what, and who, this new (and as yet untitled) set of books is all about, check out Chapter 1 and most of Chapter 2 as a little introduction… And remember, this is all first draft and unedited, so please ignore any typos, etc…
 

Oh, and also be aware that there is bad language and a little bit (??!!?) of an adult theme contained in this teaser. You have been warned... and it could have been worse... ;-)







Chapter 1


Loud music pounded out from concealed speakers, the dark, dimly-lit bar vibrating to the thumping beat of heavy rock music. The heat was verging on overpowering, despite the air-conditioning turned up as high as it would go, and even though she was wearing next to nothing, the feel of cool steel beneath her fingers was still more than welcome.
She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the thick metal pole, gripping it loosely as she slid down, her legs slowly opening, her arms still up above her head, that thumping beat washing over her as she lost herself in the music.
Knowing that all those eyes were on  her was something of a turn-on, and as she stood up, wrapping her legs around that pole, clinging on tight as she threw herself up onto it, she felt that familiar rush flood over her, her skin breaking out in a million goose bumps. The music seemed to be getting louder, the beat heavier as she twisted down the pole, gripping it with thighs so hard she knew most of the men in that bar would kill to get between them. But they never would. She would never go there.
Lowering herself further down that pole, she finally felt the floor beneath her, placing one spike-heeled boot down onto the dark surface, throwing back her head as she lapped up every second of the attention aimed at her. Practically every man in the room was watching only her, she knew that. She’d worked hard to make sure that was the way it was. She wanted the power, and she had it – in spades.
Falling to her knees she knelt up, her eyes quickly scanning the crowded bar – a place she’d come to know as home now. From the well-groomed men in suits that had probably told their wives they were talking business at some Japanese restaurant, to the tattooed biker bad boys that always outnumbered the former; right now they were all there to watch her. All there to see what she had to offer them, even though very few would ever get close to her in that way. That wasn’t what she was there for, although touching wasn’t altogether frowned upon. It just had to be at her discretion. If she wanted it, she’d let them know, and from that point it was game on. Whatever game it was she chose to play. This once-shy and reserved young English girl who’d now made Las Vegas her home wasn’t the same person who’d turned up in this fantasy town just a few months ago. She was someone completely different. Someone she needed to be. 
With one swift flick of her hand she removed her black strapless bra, flinging it aside, her hands on those rock-hard thighs, her back arched slightly so her breasts were pushed right out. She felt so powerful right now. She had every man in that room right where she wanted them, and it was the most incredible feeling.
Staring out into the crowd once more – which wasn’t something she made a habit of, if truth be told – her eyes locked onto those of a particularly hot, slightly older man in dark pants and a white shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tanned, heavily tattooed forearms. He was a kind of contradiction, in a way – somewhat smartly dressed, yet those tattoos told her there was probably another side to him, and she always found that exciting. Predictability wasn’t her thing. She liked the danger and thrill that came with spontaneity.
She held his gaze for probably a second or two longer than she should have done,
but his stare was setting every nerve-ending in her body on red alert, and it wasn’t something she was in a hurry to let go of. But she had to. She wasn’t doing a private show here. But as she stood up and turned around, burying her fingers in her mane of long dark curls, the look she threw over her shoulder as she strutted off the stage was just for him. And it was only when she was safely back in the dressing room that she realised his eyes had constantly been on hers – they hadn’t fixed on her breasts or stared longingly at her thighs in the hope that the heaven that lay between them would be exposed. He’d looked at her. And that in itself was enough to send a shiver of raw excitement shooting right through her.
She smiled to herself as she grabbed a robe from the back of the dressing room door, the adrenalin still coursing through her veins. She loved what she did. She loved messing with men’s heads. She loved playing games. Because she always won.

***

Seth Carter rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, letting out a long, almost drawn out breath. He wasn’t a stranger to this private club tucked away amidst the bright lights and huge hotels of the famous Las Vegas Strip, but sometimes these girls had a habit of hitting you right in the solar plexus when you least expected it. It was almost as though they could sense the vulnerability, and take advantage of that without even realising they were doing it.
‘Are we staying here all freakin’ night?’
Seth stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets as he turned around, raising a questioning eyebrow at the scowling young man in front of him. ‘You telling me you don’t like it here?’
‘I frigging love it here, Jesus! It’s like all my fucking Christmases have come at once, but I’m wrecked, man! That was one kick-ass set we played tonight, and all I’m ready for now is a few beers over at Clay’s and some mindless sex with any pretty face that wants it. Then I’m gonna sleep for two days.’
Seth raised that eyebrow again, a slight smirk on his face. ‘So, you’re banking on there definitely being a pretty face that wants you, huh, Cal?’
Cal looked at Seth as though he’d just said something completely ridiculous, laughing an almost disbelieving laugh as he drained the last of his beer from the bottle before tossing it aside. He was a rock star. He could get away with that.
‘I’m gonna round up the rest of the band. You coming?’
Seth quickly looked behind him, as if he still expected her to be there on the stage. ‘I’ll meet you over there.’ He turned back to face Cal. ‘Clay’s, right?’
Cal nodded before turning around and making his way back over to the bar.
Seth bowed his head and ran his hand along the back of his neck again. He really needed to sleep. The past few weeks had been crazy, and all of a sudden it felt as if everything was catching up with him. Maybe he was getting too old for this shit. Hell, who was he kidding? He was never going to be too old for this shit. This shit was in his blood, always had been. Cal Connor may be the rock star right now, but Seth knew exactly what it was like to stand in those biker boots.

Chapter 2


Seth Carter was one of the biggest names in rock. With a deep, gravel-toned voice, and the kind of dark, brooding good looks that had won him a fan base to outnumber any of his rivals back in the day, he’d sold millions of records all over the world, played to sell-out crowds at gigs and festivals in so many countries he couldn’t even remember, and had groupies falling at his feet wherever he went. Some of which he’d taken advantage of, of course he had! He’d been a fucking rock star, for Christ’s sake! And you didn’t turn that kind of shit down when it was put right there on a plate for you.
But all of that had come to an end when, in a stupid spur-of-the-moment action, he’d married one of those groupies. A beautiful blonde with incredible tits and a smile that could stop traffic, she’d turned out to be one huge mistake. And people had told him that at the time but he never had been one to take advice from anybody. That ill-fated and short-lived marriage had ended after just seven weeks, when Seth had realised he really didn’t want to leave all that stereotypical rock star behaviour behind. Because she did. The second that ring had gone on her finger she’d wanted him to settle down, give her babies; move into a condo in Miami and live the quiet family life. Fuck that!
He’d given her enough money to set her up for life, kissed her goodbye, and gone back out on the road, living life to excess for a few more years with back-to-back sold-out tours and albums that wouldn’t stop selling. He was a rock god, an idol. He could command a stage like nobody else, and he loved every second of being out there.
But once he’d hit his late thirties he’d grown more than a little tired of the constant touring. He’d wanted to go out on a high, and with a run of farewell gigs that had sold out in minutes, he’d said goodbye to being in the limelight, but not to the industry as a whole. He couldn’t leave that behind, no matter how hard he tried. He loved the world he’d lived in for so long way too much to tear himself away from it forever.
So he’d set up his own record label, made it his mission to discover new rock stars out there that may never find that lucky break that was needed to get past all the TV talent show dross that seemed to have a stranglehold on the music scene these days.
Now, at the age of forty-five, he was a respected record company owner and rock band manager. And even though age had only made him sexier – those dark, brooding looks had just got edgier – and the women showed no signs of leaving him alone, he’d never remarried. Why would he? Seth Carter had got burned once, he had no intention of letting that happen again, not when he was quite happy to continue playing the field as long as there were women out there who wanted him. And they wanted him. They made no secret of that. With dark brown hair that was just long enough to rest on the back of his collar, tinged with just the tiniest hint of grey around the temples – the only sign that he was heading towards middle-age – constant stubble on a strong jaw line, a myriad of tattoos covering both arms, shoulders and chest, and the deepest, darkest eyes that were responsible for reeling in all those women over all those years, Seth was too handsome for his own good. And he knew he was still one damn lucky bastard.

***

Cal leaned back against the bar in Clay’s swigging from a bottle of cold beer as he looked out around him. The music was loud, the bar was crowded, and he was in his own kind of heaven as his eyes locked onto those of a pretty redhead over the other side of the room. He threw her a smile that, basically, told her she could have him, if she wanted him. And why wouldn’t she? They all wanted him. To spend a night with Cal Connor was like hitting the jackpot, and there’d certainly been some winners over the last few weeks as this tour had wound its way across the US before finally landing here in Vegas for four nights of wild excess and shows that had rocked like no others. That’s what this town did to people. It got inside you and made you crazy. The drugs had nothing to do with it. The alcohol merely heightened everything. It was Vegas that did it for him. He’d been born and brought up here before his family had moved to California just after he’d started High School. But it had never left him. This place. It was where his heart was. Where he always felt his most comfortable. And even though L.A. was his base now, Vegas would always be his home.
Cal Connor was twenty-six-years-old, a toned, tanned and far-too-hot rock band front man. With messed-up short dark hair that looked like it had never seen a comb in months, and the brightest of blue eyes, everything about him screamed rock star. Sleeve tattoos adorned his arms, and there was barely an inch of visible skin left on his upper half, even his jaw sported the heaviest of stubble. Yeah, he was hot, and he knew it. He had way too much attitude, of course, and the assumption that he was the greatest thing ever to have walked the earth surrounded him constantly, but it hadn’t stopped Seth Carter from seeing his undeniable talent and signing Cal’s band Twelve Bore Down to his record label. In fact, he’d shown so much faith in Cal and the band that he’d deemed them important enough to manage them himself, which, as anyone in the rock world knew, meant that Seth thought they were going somewhere. And he hadn’t been wrong. Twelve Bore Down were one of the biggest rock bands in the world right now, bringing real music back to a whole audience of people who were tired of boy bands and manufactured pop. They were killing it wherever they went, as this latest tour had proved, and Cal was on top of the frigging world. Still on a high after a crazy final gig and two hours spent in one of Vegas’ most elite private lap dancing bars, where the women showed you everything but gave you fuck all – unless you put in a specific request, and even then there was no guarantee. But Cal didn’t like asking for anything. He didn’t need to. It was all given to him, whatever he wanted. So he’d been quite happy to do nothing but look at the perfect tits and rock hard thighs as they’d gyrated just metres away from him. They were there to start the party. And here was where it really got going.
He took another swig of beer and slammed the empty bottle down on the counter behind him, smiling as Little-Miss-Redhead sauntered over to him, staring at him with wide eyes and a pout on her pretty face that told Cal that mouth was going to work its own kind of magic on him before this night was done. He fucking loved his life!

©Michelle Betham 2014


*


So there we go. Just a tiny little, relatively PG-rated teaser. Any more teasers may have to carry a warning beforehand, but, that aside, I would love to know what you think. Am I on the right track with this one?

Anyway, watch this space for more updates as to how this new trilogy is coming along - almost at the halfway point of book #1 now - and for more teasers, of course. I really do think you're gonna like Seth Carter... I know I do...
 
 

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