Rock Legend Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Tara Thompson

  Excerpt from Rock Rebel copyright © 2018 by Tara Thompson

  Cover design by Brian Lemus. Cover images © Shutterstock and iStock. Cover copyright © 2018 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Forever Yours

  Hachette Book Group

  1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

  forever-romance.com

  twitter.com/foreverromance

  First published as an ebook and as a print on demand: July 2018

  Forever Yours is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever Yours name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to www.hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591.

  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-1281-8 (ebook), 978-1-5387-1280-1 (print on demand)

  E3-20180530-DANF

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Don’t miss Dax and Verity’s story in Rock Rebel, coming in fall 2018!

  About the Author

  Also by Tara Leigh

  You Might Also Like…

  Newsletters

  To my readers.

  Without you, torturing my imaginary friends wouldn’t be nearly as much fun!

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank-you to my agent extraordinaire, Jessica Alvarez of BookEnds Literary Agency. Your critiques and career guidance are invaluable!

  Lexi Smail—you have been an absolute dream to work with and have spoiled me for all future editors. Thank you for seeing the potential in this series and inviting me to join the Forever family of authors. Many thanks also to the rest of the Forever team: the talented cover designers, the publicity team, Kallie Shimek, and everyone else who has played a role in bringing the Nothing but Trouble boys (and the women who love them) to life.

  To my readers—you are EVERYTHING!!! I love reading your reviews and value your honest feedback! And all those messages/posts/tweets/e-mails you send as you’re reading—they make my day! **hugs** This is my first book to release with my #TeamTL Review Team and Tara Leigh VIPs Facebook Reader Group—how did I ever write without you guys?

  To all the amazing bloggers (who are always readers first) that have championed this series—you are all rock stars! Candi Kane, you are an absolute powerhouse and beyond generous with your time and expertise. Melissa Teo (Booksmacked), I adore you for a million reasons. You are an incredible cheerleader for contemporary romance books and their authors—and the best stalker PA ever! Serena McDonald, thank you for always having answers to my endless questions and always pointing me in the right direction! Maria (Steamy Reads), thank you for your encouragement, gorgeous graphics, and suggesting Rock King to Jenny and your readers! Cristina (CristinaReads), You were the first blogger I “met” on Goodreads and were the best guide anyone could have hoped for! Amy (Obsessive Book Whore), your enthusiasm is infectious! Sarah (Musings of the Modern Belle), you come up with such creative ways to bring authors and readers together—I love it! Sue Bee, from my very first book, you have been a valuable sounding board. Thank you for all of your advice and encouragement, and especially for your unfiltered honesty. Christina Santos (Recommended Reads), I’m so glad you reached out to me—I’ll Facebook “party” with you anytime! ;) Tina, Karen, Sophie, Crystal, and Vicki (Bookalicious Babes Blog), you’ve created one of the most supportive places for newbie authors. Thank you for being so welcoming! Jeri (Jeri’s Book Addict), Eve (Between the Bookends), and Bianca (BJ’s Book Blog), I love our e-mail chats! Mary (USA Today HEA), your excerpts and features are my go-to source for finding new reads, and I’m thrilled to have been included!

  By the time this book goes to print, there will be many more I wish I could thank, and I’m sure I’ve missed people, too. Please forgive me!

  There are so many authors who have been beyond generous with their time and expertise—if I named them all, I might fill as many pages as this book! However, Alessandra Torre, your invaluable website www.alessandratorreink.com is a must for every new author, and you have built a virtual cheering section via Facebook. And Al Jackson, thank you for setting the bar when it comes to rock star romance. My In The Loop Group authors—love you ladies!

  To RWA and everyone I’ve met through this incredible organization.

  Lauren Layne and Anthony LeDonne of Last Word Designs, thank you for my gorgeous logo and website, www.taraleighbooks.com!

  Jessica Hildreth, thank you for all the gorgeous teasers!

  Dr. Tara Kerner, thank you for helping me figure out how to get Landon and Jake into the same rehab facility.

  Amy Bernheim, thank you for explaining the type of injury that could give a drummer problems.

  Jessica Estep of Inkslinger PR—you rock! Thank you for your insight and hard work. Oh the places we’ll go! ;)

  Deb and Drue of Buoni Amici Press—thanks for bringing this newbie up to speed and spreading the word about this book!

  Moments by Andrea, thank you for the fabulous head shot.

  To my aunts Jill and Joan—I love seeing all your posts of support!!

  I am lucky to have a great group of girlfriends surrounding me. You know who you are—and I’m sorry for ignoring your calls when I’m writing!

  My neighbor Cindy, you are a wonderful friend to me and an absolute blessing to my kids. Moving next door to you was one of the smartest decisions Stephen and I ever made! Thank you for being one of my first readers and catching even the tiniest typos!

  Grandma, you left me nearly twenty years ago, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. For any smokers reading this—put the cigarette down. Think of the people in your life who will one day watch you struggle to breathe and, when you lose that battle, will miss you desperately.

  Thank you to my mom for never ripping all those “bodice-rippers” out of my hands as a teen/tween, and to my dad for showing me what it mean
s to work hard. (Who needs weekends or vacations, anyway?)

  Stephen, thank you for being a wonderful husband and supporting my dreams. I love you. Logan, Chloe, and Pierce, thank you for being so considerate of my writing time. I am blessed to be your mother.

  Our lives are enriched by our sweet rescue puppy, Pixie. The wonderful organization that brought Pixie into our lives is Goofy Foot Dog Rescue, and if you would like to welcome a dog into your family or donate to their organization, please visit their website: www.goofyfootrescue.org.

  And if you would like to see more pictures of Pixie (and who wouldn’t?) please sign up for my newsletter at www.taraleighbooks.com—she’s my writing buddy!

  Chapter One

  Piper

  I would have missed the call, but I’d just flung my purse into my car, the contents spilling out onto the passenger-side floor mat like a burst piñata. Despite the tears clouding my vision, it was impossible to ignore the flashing letters—DELANEY FRASER—vibrating from within a sea of tampons, makeup tubes, and spare change.

  Unable to check the impulse, I reached for it, taking a second to wipe at my wet eyes before swiping my thumb across the screen. “Hi, Delaney.”

  It sounded like a frog had crawled into my throat. If I was lucky, Delaney would be too polite to mention it.

  “Piper, are you sick?”

  Of course I wasn’t lucky. I’d never been before, why should today be any different?

  But despite the cocoon of self-pity I wanted to wrap myself in, I couldn’t miss the genuine concern bleeding from Delaney’s voice.

  Not that I deserved it.

  Delaney and I had known each other since nursery school back in Bronxville, the suburb of New York City where we’d both grown up. From throwing sand in her face rather than sharing my pail and shovel, to snubbing her in favor of the mean girls clique in high school, I’d done nothing to deserve Delaney’s concern, or her friendship.

  The truth was, Delaney’s niceness had always scared me. I had secrets to keep, even back then. Especially back then. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down for a minute. And being friends with a girl like Delaney—someone who cared about more than just the labels sewn inside her clothes or her boyfriend of the month—terrified me.

  Crazily enough, Delaney Fraser was now my closest friend. My only friend, actually. As a public relations assistant for one of the hottest talent managers in Hollywood, I had yet to master work-life balance. But with Delaney clear across the country finishing up her degree at NYU, my overscheduled calendar wasn’t an issue for us.

  Forcing a huge, fake smile on my face even though she couldn’t see me, I automatically shifted into my default mode: Fake It Till You Make It. Maybe that was why I’d been so drawn to Tinseltown. Here, whether you had your SAG card or not, everyone was an actor. “Nope. I’m great. How are you?”

  There was a pause. “Piper, you don’t sound great.”

  Delaney was no one’s fool, and she’d picked up on the truth. A truth I wasn’t ready to admit yet. It was too new, the wound too raw. “Of course I am,” I insisted, even though it was obvious I was one step away from falling apart. “And I’m going to be late for work, so…”

  “Wait.”

  My finger hovered over the END CALL button on my screen. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t hang up on Delaney.

  “I was calling to tell you that I just booked a flight to LAX. I want to surprise Shane at his show tomorrow.”

  The knot in my stomach drew tighter; the warm, stuffy air inside the car choking me. If Delaney was coming to Nothing but Trouble’s show tomorrow, I would need to book a car service from the airport to the venue, get her an all-access backstage pass, a hotel room—no, she would be staying with Shane, of course…

  Details. My mind latched on to the expanding to-do list in my mind, anything to avoid thinking about what I’d just seen or a certain member of the band I’d have to avoid tomorrow. “What time are you getting in? Do you have an outfit to wear? I’ll arrange for hair and makeup—”

  “Piper.” She cut me off with a laugh. “You don’t have to fuss over me anymore.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. Her relationship with Shane Hawthorne was no longer a press stunt, but as long as Shane and his multi-platinum band, Nothing but Trouble, were my boss’s biggest clients, part of my job still involved fussing over Delaney.

  “And how exactly would I explain leaving you to fend off the horde of paparazzi that stake out LAX to my boss?” Although Delaney wasn’t a celebrity herself, after the media circus surrounding Shane had gotten ahold of her, her face was nearly as recognizable—and profitable—as her rock star boyfriend’s. “Believe me,” I continued, “fussing over you is a hell of a lot easier that trying to placate Travis Taggert.”

  “I don’t know how you put up with that man,” she conceded.

  Right now, I was pretty sure all men were the scum of the earth, but as far as bosses went, Travis wasn’t bad. And it was because of him that Delaney and I had reconnected.

  When Travis had been faced with the unenviable task of informing an A-list actor that his director had hired a body double for his upcoming sex scene because his ass wasn’t as finely sculpted as it had been a decade ago, Travis and I decided to strategize, or maybe just procrastinate, over drinks.

  Delaney had been our waitress.

  Neither Delaney nor I realized it at the time, but Travis had taken one look at her and instantly known she would be perfect for Shane.

  As always, Travis’s instincts had been spot on. Once Shane and Delaney became an item, I was assigned to manage her introduction to Shane’s possessive fans. At the time, it had been a huge promotion, but because of our prior relationship, Travis wanted me on board.

  The moment Delaney moved to New York for school, I’d asked to be taken off the Nothing but Trouble account.

  Rock stars were not my thing.

  Not anymore.

  “He’s my boss, so it kind of comes with the territory. When are you getting in?” I might not be assigned to the band anymore, but I still pitched in where Delaney was concerned. We spent the next few minutes going over her travel itinerary, and after we hung up I jotted down notes in the planner I kept with me at all times.

  The knock on my window made me jump, my pen streaking across the page. I’d forgotten that I was still sitting in the parking lot right outside my building.

  Adam was standing there, looking regretful and apologetic, and irritatingly pulled together. Had he taken the time to shower after I ran out his door?

  I didn’t even bother rolling down the window. I had nothing to say to my boyfriend.

  Correction: ex-boyfriend, as of twenty minutes ago.

  Starting the ignition with a shaking hand, I backed out of my parking spot, not caring if I ran over Adam’s toes. Not caring if I ran over any part of Adam’s anatomy, although there was one in particular I would have preferred.

  Delaney might have found her Prince Charming, but so far I was more of a frog magnet.

  Landon

  I should buy stock in Trojans.

  The random thought skittered across my brain as I flushed the condom down the toilet, my gut twisting as I watched it shudder and swirl before finally disappearing. I know flushing latex is bad for the plumbing and the environment, but when the condom is filled with my sperm—I can’t go leaving that shit around.

  Over the years I’d dealt with more baby-daddy scandals than I cared to think about. None of them had turned out to be valid, and I intended to keep it that way.

  Forever.

  Not only was I the drummer of Nothing but Trouble, the most successful band of the decade—according to the tweet that just vibrated through my phone—I was also…

  Wait for it…

  The Most Fuckable Rock Star on the Planet.

  Apparently, I’m a legend.

  Am I surprised? Fuck, no.

  It’s a reputation I’ve earned behind my drum kit and behind closed doors. In da
rk corners of dingy bars and in full view of anyone with eyes. I am nothing if not generous with my skills. Spreading the wealth and all that.

  But when it came to my sperm, I knew better than to leave it unattended.

  Ridiculous, really. I mean, chicks weren’t exactly lining up to bring me home to meet Mom and Dad. And I would hardly fit in at a PTA meeting—not with my tattoos and piercings and penchant for illegal substances washed down with hundred-proof liquor.

  Turning on the tap, I splashed water on my face, pushing rough, drumstick-callused hands through my hair. I didn’t bother checking out my reflection in the mirror. I knew what I looked like, saw myself reflected in the hungry eyes of people wanting a piece of me every damn day.

  I was desperate for a shower, but that would have to wait. I needed to rouse the girls in my bed and get them out first. Otherwise they were bound to wake up while I was scrubbing their scent from my skin and strip the hotel suite of everything I’d touched. Clothes, sheets, dirty glasses still sticky with the residue of whatever liquor I poured down my throat last night—given the opportunity, they’d all be up on eBay before I reached for a towel.

  I’m living the dream.

  Except that when I wasn’t onstage or in a recording studio pounding away at my custom built drum kit, it felt more like a nightmare.

  When I was playing, my chaotic thoughts suddenly made sense. I could spot patterns. Arrangements of energy to be identified and interpreted, set to a unique rhythm.

  From the relentless noise inside my mind, I made music.

  But when I didn’t have a pair of drumsticks in my hand, I spent most of my time doing another kind of banging.

  Hence, the two girls in my bed.

  Because otherwise I’d be banging my head against the wall.

  Maybe I should have checked into the hotel alone last night. Today, of all days, I wasn’t fit company for anyone.

  One day out of three hundred and sixty-five. A day spent trying to forget about what I’d done, the lives I’d destroyed, the family I’d decimated.

  My family.