Welcome to the party~ Today I am celebrating the release of Rock Harder: Chord Brothers! The book is written by M.J. Roberts.
For today’s party I got the standard book/author information, but you can also read an exclusive excerpt!
Oh, and I want to let you all know that book 1: Rock Hard: Chord Brothers is now out in audio.
Let’s get the party started. dances
After an unthinkable tragedy shakes his world as a teen, Bassist Jase Evanovich puts part of his life on hold to take care of his best friend, look after his little sister, and push his band toward fame. His charm, humor, and rip-roaring music get him through the day (if not sleep-tossed nights). His rock solid existence is shaken when a stunning beauty shows up surprising him with white-hot attraction and the beautiful face of his dead girlfriend.
Kate Warner is captivated by Jase immediately—too much. But she’s got a past laden with secrets and a strict directive not to date anyone in the band. With everything she’s ever worked for and her entire future on the line, she can’t take a chance on the strong, alpha hero who rocks harder than any man she’s ever met.
Buy the book here: Amazon
About the author:
Find her here:
Fan favorite M. J. Roberts is known for lovable characters, witty dialogue, exciting plot twists, fast-paced action that keeps you on the edge of your seat, and romance scenes that sizzle.
With more than two million copies of stories in circulation worldwide, Roberts is well loved for creating characters who feel as real as your most cherished friends.
M.J. Roberts is the author of seventeen novels, including the popular Rock Hard: Chord Brothers series, and over twenty short stories; she’s won six literary awards including the Literotica Summer Lovin’ Contest 2015 for Risk Your Heart and the April 2019 gold medal from Literary Titans for Rock Hard: Chord Brothers, Book 1.
Roberts is also an editor, songwriter, audiobook narrator, and professor of creative writing. A modestly humble egomaniac with a penchant for superheroes, she’s married to an awesome professional musician (a.k.a. The Rock and Roll God). Her ‘I’m with the band’ status and access to a bunch of real-life alpha bad boys means she’s always saying ‘Anything you say can and will appear in print. Names will be changed to protect the guilty.’
I don’t want the date to be over. We get out of the Uber about twenty feet from the tour bus.
“Let me walk you to your door?” Hero says.
I huff out a half laugh, smile, and nod. “Yeah, the marathon it is.”
“If it were, I would carry you,” he says softly as he takes my hand for the few steps it takes us to get to the bus.
He turns to me when we get there.
“Kate,” he says softly, saying my name reverently like it’s the best sound in the world. “That was the best date I’ve ever had.”
“And I bet you’ve had a thousand.”
Hero rolls his eyes and mumbles softly to himself under his breath, “I’m not Ryder or Hit Man.” He rolls his eyes again. “Yeah. Hundreds of thousands. That was still hands down the best.” He lightly caresses the top of my ear, a feather-light touch, but I feel it all over and I shiver. “And it’s not over yet.”
He looks down at my mouth, up into my eyes, down at my mouth again. His gaze burns. I know I shouldn’t. Know. But I feel powerless to stop it. The draw to him is so strong. Since that first day since I saw him by my sister’s car I’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
I lick my lips.
He presses his mouth to mine, so gentle, but I can’t breathe. My heart is beating too fast. My lungs are too tight in my chest. My legs too weak to hold me up. He pulls back.
“Oh,” he says with a smile and takes a step back. “I guess I’m really bad at that.”
“My God, no! It’s not you, it’s me.” I grab the edges of his biker’s jacket. “I can’t think. I can’t get any oxygen to my brain when my world hangs in the balance because I want something so bad and I can’t have it.”
“You want something so bad?” he asks and one eyebrow goes up.
I blow a lock of hair off my forehead.
“Maybe you should do what you want,” he says, his voice sandpaper over steel. “Maybe you have to do what you want.” He puts his hands up in the surrender pose.
I can’t have him think I’m rejecting him, that I hate him.
I lean forward and I touch my lips to the corner of his mouth intent on letting him know he’s okay, but it’s like getting the first taste of the best chocolate in the world, but better. I tighten my grip on his jacket. His lips twitch. He pulls back.
I touch my lips to his. It’s a soft, barely there, almost non-existent kiss. But this time my heart is singing and I exhale a sigh at its perfection.
He pulls back more and goes to the bus.
“Thank you for a perfect date, Angel,” he says over his shoulder.
I can’t help but be disappointed.
I follow him into the bus.
I spend way too long in the bathroom. I’m hiding out. I’ve brushed my teeth and my hair over and over, washed my face twice, looked at myself in my pink camisole and white girly boxers again and again. I feel different. More dissatisfied. More torn. More…hopeless. Less…whole. I feel different but I look the same. My heart aches. Did I think one chaste kiss would rid me of my secret lust for Jase? Prove my fantasies weren’t as good as reality so I could stop harboring this crush and move on? Did I really think that? Yeah. Part of me did.
I’m like an addict who says one grain of cocaine will stop her cravings.
Well now I know.
Unfortunately I can’t sleep in this tiny bathroom, so I have to go out there. At least I’ve been in here so long I know he’ll be asleep.
I walk down the aisle, my head down, watching my feet as if in a trance. I’m reliving that barely there kiss. Just the merest of tingling touches yet the most powerfully sensual one I’ve ever had.
Too late I look up to see Hero’s not sleeping, but sitting up on the edge of his bunk.
“Angel,” he says, the edge to his voice so gruff and needy and powerful it’s almost angry. “You. Are. So. Beautiful.”
Hero stands up, spears one hand into my hair, places the other firmly on my lower back and presses me until I’m trapped against the bunks. He crashes his lips down onto mine. It’s blazing hot. He slants his mouth over mine. His tongue runs along the seam of my lips, begging for access and I part my lips for him, reveling in his taste. He uses his grip on my hair to tilt my head where he wants it, ravaging and taking, giving and pleasing, dancing. Overloading me with pleasure. It’s only his firm hand on my back that keeps me standing as my entire body burns too hot, my toes zinging, my core flooding, my brain short circuiting.
I grab his shoulders because my want is overwhelming. I want to touch him everywhere and the desire is threating to overwhelm me to the point of panic. He’s just wearing his sleep boxers and his body heat is so perfect, so male, necessary, that I need more of it, right now, but I can’t handle it.
Because it’s more joy than I’ve ever had and it’s so fast, so new. My wants are running rampant. I can’t touch him everywhere fast enough.
He grabs both my hands in one of his and pins them together in front of my chest.
“No,” he says firmly.
My head is spinning in a haze of lust and I don’t understand what he says. I’m breathing so hard I’m worried I’ll hyperventilate. I need him so much. I struggle. But my hands are trapped between us and my two wrists against his big hand is no contest.
“No?” I ask breathily.
He nips my bottom lip.
He kisses my jaw, the top of my shoulder, gently nudging the thin strap of my camisole, the sensitive spot behind my ear that makes my whole body turn to jelly.
“No,” he says again quietly.
He pulls back. It feels like my whole body is faltering, and every cell is straining toward him, craving and straining and crying.
He lets me go.
My body actually leans toward him, my hands still clasped in front of my chest as he lies down on his bed and turns away from me, hugging his body pillow.
“Good night, Angel,” he says firmly.
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