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The New York Times bestselling author of Slow Burn turns up the heat when a sexy bet turns into so much more....
Hawkin Play, the bad boy rock star with a good guy heart, has lived a lifetime of cleaning up after his twin brother’s mistakes. Hunter’s most recent screwup could land Hawke in jail and risk the band’s future. Hawke agrees to guest lecture at a local college to stay in the judge’s good graces—and a bet with his bandmate to seduce his sexy teaching assistant is icing on the cake.
Quinlan Westin is harder to bed than Hawke imagined. She knows his type and is determined to avoid the rocker at all costs—even if their attraction runs deeper than simple lust.
Just as Hawke might finally be winning over the girl, his brother has other plans. When Hunter realizes his twin finally has a weakness, he’ll stop at nothing to take advantage....
“Now you guys need to get going so you have time for Quin to give you the complete rundown,” Professor Stevens says.
Of course she has no idea the double entendre she’s just given Hawkin about me giving him a complete rundown, but I know Hawke catches it. I manage to resist the urge to stomp my feet in frustration and storm out of her office like a toddler. Instead I give her a tight smile before turning and walking out of the office and then the department.
I stand there in the sunshine, waiting for him to get his ass in gear and quit wasting my time. When I finally hear the door open I just start walking and the sound of his boots is the only inclination that he’s following.
“I’ve got longer legs than you Trixie,” he chides from a few feet back. “But feel free to keep swinging your hips like that, and I’ll stay right here behind you and enjoy the show.”
I bristle at the comment. At the moment there’s no authority to be respectful of, no damage that can’t be undone.
“A show?” The pitch of my voice escalates as I whirl around to face him—sunglasses on, hair disheveled, and I wish I hadn’t turned around because damn, he’s just that devastatingly fine. I’m quiet for a beat as we both appraise each other from behind darkened lenses. His dark hair, tanned skin, and cocky smirk pulls at those parts of me I don’t want to be pulled. “You want to talk about a show.” I grit the words out, trying to push my physical attraction to him from my mind. “Let’s talk about your little performance for Dr. Stevens.”
“I know. I’m good, huh? Sorry but a man’s got to do what he’s got to do . . . Besides, I wasn’t done with you yet.”
My mouth falls lax and I’m momentarily flabbergasted. “Done with me yet?” I sputter the words when I’ve recovered my wits at his arrogance run amuck . . . But I can’t deny the little flutter in my belly at his comment. There’s just something about him aside from the whole I’m a rock-star thing, that makes me desire him in a way I can’t put into words.
“Yep.” He says casually as he unwraps a Starburst and pops it into his mouth. And I hate that I’m fascinated with watching his mouth suck on the sweet candy. Luckily he speaks so I can distract myself from the captivating sight. “I’m pretty sure you have a usefulness . . . I’m just trying to figure out what that is.” He licks his lips. “Well, besides the obvious, that is . . .” Smirk is handily in place and I hate that ache starting to simmer in my core.
“Why don’t you go suck a—”
“Relax,” he says, angling his head to the side and emitting a laugh as he steps closer to me. “I’m just teasing you. You’re so damn easy to rile up and so hard to resist. Plus you’re even hotter when you’re pissed. I like it.” He shrugs an apology, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans with a sheepish grin that softens all those hard edges and makes me sigh with the contrast of characteristics. He holds a red Starburst out to me as a peace offering. “C’mon, you know you want to be the star to my burst.”
We’ve stopped, my hands are on my hips, and the sun is falls around us as hewaits for me to react to his innocent little comment. Deep down I know I’m screwed. I feel an urge to smile but immediately realign my defenses. The contradiction he presents, the smooth with the rough, is the one thing that I always fall for when it comes to men.
And I’m not going to fall for Hawkin Play.
Meet K. Bromberg
K. lives in Southern California with her husband and three children. When she needs a break from the daily chaos of her life, you can most likely find her on the treadmill or with Kindle in hand, devouring the pages of a good, saucy book.
On a whim, K. Bromberg decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Her debut novels, Driven, Fueled, and Crashed of The Driven Trilogy were well received and went on to become multi-platform bestsellers as well as landing on the New York Times and USA Today lists. Her other works include a short story, UnRaveled, and a companion piece to The Driven Trilogy titled Raced. She is currently working on three stand alone Driven novels, Slow Burn, Sweet Ache, and Hard Beat. She also plans to release a novel addressing the 10 year gap at the ending of Crashed in late fall 2015
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