Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews is the fifth stop on Nick Blackthorne’s World Blog tour. Here you’ll find an exclusive excerpt from Love’s Rhythm PLUS a line from Nick’s International Number One bestseller, Night Whispers.
If you’re not sure what Nick Blackthorne’s World Blog Tour is, check out contest details here at Lexxie Couper’s blog http://www.lexxiecouper.com/blog/ There are prizes galore including right here! To be in the running to win an ebook from Lexxie’s backlist make sure to leave a comment or ask Lexxie (or Nick) a question. A winner will be announced at the end of the day J
The Music of Love’s Rhythm
While I was writing Love’s Rhythm, I had a very specific collection of songs playing in the background. These songs were selected for a variety of reasons, most because they echoed the journey Nick had taken from being first discovered way back when he was a young man of twenty playing in his local pub through to the moment he returned to his small home town sixteen years later, a changed man, a famous man, and a broken man.
This is Nick’s playlist, the music of Love’s Rhythm
What do you think? What’s your favourite song from that list? Do you have a playlist you can’t exist without?
Don’t forget to leave a comment to go into the draw to win an ebook of your choice from my backlist (and to enter the main draw for the MAJOR prize)
His music moves the world. Can his love move her heart?
Nick Blackthorne knows all about words of love. They’re the reason he’s the world’s biggest rock star. The irony? He turned his back on love a long time ago, lured away by the trappings of fame.
An invitation to a friend’s wedding is a stark reminder of how meaningless his life has become. When he enters that church, there’s only one woman he wants on his arm—the one he walked out on a lifetime ago. But first he has to find her, even if all she accepts from him is an apology.
Kindergarten teacher Lauren Robbins once had what every woman on the planet desires.
Nick. Their passion was explosive, their romance the stuff of songs…and it took fifteen years to get over him. Then out of the blue Nick turns up at her door, and all those years denying her ache for him are shattered with a single, smoldering kiss.
But molten passion can’t hide the secret she’s kept for all these years. Because it’s not just her heart on the line anymore…and not just her life that’ll be rocked by the revelation.
Remember your first crush on a rock star? Now add smoldering sex, a raw and undeniable passion, soul-shattering orgasms. And secrets…
She stared at him. No words came. None. Just a deafening roar in her ears and a cold in her soul. Oh God. He knows. He knows and you should have told him fifteen years ago.
He studied her, brushing the fingertips on one hand over her bottom lip. “Why didn’t you tell me, babe?” he whispered. “Why?”
Someone thumped on the door. A steady rapping of knuckles. The vibrations shot through Lauren like a spray of bullets. She let out a startled cry, every muscle in her body locking.
Nick’s nostrils flared. He stepped backward, his hands sliding from her face, his jaw clenched. She watched him move away, wanting nothing more than to throw herself at him, wrap her arms around his waist and cling to him. Feel his heat seep into her body. Feel it melt away the chilled emptiness spreading through her. Hold him, be held by him. It was where she was meant to be.
It was the farthest place she wanted to be.
He’d hurt her. He’d rejected her. He’d left her.
And she’d hurt him back.
“Nick,” she began, watching him tuck himself back into his jeans.
The knock rapped on the door again. Just as quick. Just as expectant.
She turned away from him, unable to see the pain, the betrayal in his eyes anymore. Snatching up her pyjama shirt, she pulled it on and buttoned it with fingers that seemed to refuse her brain’s commands. Fingers that fumbled and shook. Damn it, where were her pyjama pants?
The knock came again. “Ms. Robbins?” a male voice called from the other side.
She looked for her pants. Where the hell were her pants?
Fuck it. You don’t need them. Your shirt’s long enough. Just answer the door, get rid of whoever is on the other side and then tell Nick you’re sorry. Tell him you still love him. Tell him you were wrong. Tell him everything.
She shot Nick a look over her shoulder. He stood a few steps behind her, half-dressed, his upper body naked and still slicked in a fine sheen of sweat, his chest rising and falling with each steadying breath he pulled, his lean muscles sculpted and defined with the exertion of their fucking. His fly was zipped, the top of the treble cleft tattooed on his lower abdomen peaking from above the low-slung waistline of his jeans. His thick black hair hung around his face, awry from her hands, brushing eyes that studied her with an unreadable intensity.
He looked like a sexual god.
He looked like a rock star.
Closing her eyes, she raked her fingers through her hair, took a deep breath and then turned back to the door and pulled it open.
White light exploded in her eyes. Soundless. Blinding. White light followed by Nick snarling, “You fucking prick, Holston.”
White light speared into her eyes again. A flash so bright she gasped.
“Having a good time, Blackthorne?” the man in front of her asked, although it wasn’t so much a question but a chuckling sneer. And she couldn’t see him. All she could see was painful yellow glare dancing on her retina, glaring yellow light making it impossible to see, just like the kind left over from a powerful camera flash.
She blinked. She could see a man on her front step, and yet she couldn’t. He was hiding behind the dancing yellow burn from his camera’s flash.
“You guys need to get a life,” she heard Nick growl. And then he was pushing past her. White light exploded in front of her again as the man’s voice called out, telling her to smile, to give Nick a kiss, asking her how long they’d been together. White, rapid-fire flash bombs accompanied by the distinct click of a camera attacked her, capturing her stupor seconds before the sound of her door slamming shut smacked at her ears.
She stared at Nick, her pulse not only thumping in her neck but in her temples. She stared at him through the yellow brand on her retina as Holston continued to call out from the other side of her door, asking how long she and Nick had been lovers, if she always slept in Elmo pyjamas, if—
“I’m sorry.” Nick reached for her, his hands smoothing up her arms. “You didn’t need to experience that. Holston’s an unethical prick. I don’t know how he even knew I was Murriundah.”
Red anger smashed into her. Scalding hot in its clarity. It all came rushing back to her—the minutes spent with Nick in public, the screaming fans, the stalking photographers, the other women calling her names and sending her hate mail. All of it. And now here it was on her doorstep? No. She wasn’t standing for it. She jerked out of his gentle hold and stepped away from him. Her hip struck the hall console table, sharp pain shooting through her like an electrical jolt, but she ignored it.
Line from Night Whispers
Buy links for Love’s Rhythm
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