Cover & Excerpt Reveal
Underground Encounters Book Three
Lily Everett wants a lover, but won’t consider a permanent relationship, because she harbors a secret she’s certain no one will understand. When she meets the singer of a rock band at an underground nightclub, she’s disarmed by his sensual voice and mischievous good looks. After an icy introduction, Lily warms up to Nico’s charms.
A computer geek by day, Nico dons a rock singer persona by night. He’s tired of women pursuing him just because he’s in a band—the sex may be handy, but he wants something more. He’s intrigued by Lily’s reticence.
Keeping her emotional distance proves difficult the more Lily uncovers the intelligent, considerate man hiding behind Nico’s bad-boy persona. Their encounters are hot-hot-hot, but Nico wants more from Lily than sex. When Lily lets down her guard and reveals her other side, Nico’s shock destroys their closeness and they both doubt they can overcome their differences.
Genre: Erotic Paranormal RomancePurchase links: Amazon ARe Kobo B&N
Release Date: May 15, 2013
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing
Excerpt & More
When he spoke, I detected a slight accent, maybe English, which wasn’t very noticeable when he sang.
Damn, that dedication was sweet. It must be nice to have someone so into you they’d request a singer to send a shout out to you declaring their feelings. I quickly ran through the guys I’d dated the last few years. Not a chance any of them would ever take that initiative. They were all too emotionally cut off to ever reveal something as personal as feelings. Then again, I wasn’t exactly professing any kind of eternal love either. Definitely not in the way this admirer was professing for this Maya. In fact, with my exes, I’d insisted we keep things from getting too serious.
But that was my hang-up. I knew no guy would be able to handle my secret.
My thoughts were distracted as I strained to hear the opening of the song. He sang so softly at first I barely made out the lyrics. Then his croon turned into a seductive opening of a song I recognized. #1 Crush by Garbage, an admittance of obsessive love.
How the hell did he make it sound so tormented and yet so damn sexy all at once?
I had to get a better look and see this guy who was exacting complete control over the crowd. He had them worked up in a frenzy during the last song and now they had settled into a hypnotic sway as they listened to him sing with such intense longing. He delivered it with such a painful croon, almost haunted. That’s when I finally caught a glimpse of him.
My recent encounters with punk rockers led me to believe they were all a bunch of ugly bastards so I was not expecting someone so—so—like him. He was wearing a plaid green-and-black cap, but I saw his dark brown hair was cut close to his scalp. He looked so young and innocent at the same time. I pegged him to be in his late twenties. Maybe my age or a couple of years younger than me since I was about to celebrate the first of many twenty-ninth birthdays later this year.
I stood up on the rung of a stool to get a better look and that’s when I saw he was also playing bass guitar. He wore torn camouflage pants tucked into tall, black Doc Marten-style boots and held up by a silver-studded black belt. His torn black shirt sported the Velvet Cocks logo—a rooster wearing a smoking jacket and an ornate V and C, which appeared very Victorian and proper. Misdirection perhaps as to the actual naughty words? Tattoos galore extended from beyond his shirtsleeves. The whole
combination gave him a hardcore look of a total badass. Dangerous and sexy.
My mouth half dropped as I listened, entranced, to his voice. And his face. It should be a crime to look so good and yet sing so hardcore.
As if reading my thoughts, the guitarist launched into a punk riff, transforming the song to a hard-and-heavy tempo and diverting my attention to him. While the singer had more of a military/punk rock look, the guitarist wore some crazy outfit. He sported a brown, sleeveless tunic that covered his torso and ended in strips over his upper thighs after being fastened by a thick black belt with a giant silver piece. His legs were bare and his feet were covered with giant black boots covered with spikes. With his mussed-up shoulder-length hair, he looked as if he stepped out of another time and place, like from one of those fantasy video games. I pictured him wielding a giant, silver, jeweled sword or some other weapon rather than the modern electric guitar he shredded the new tune on.
When the set ended, Ally found me at the bar. “Awesome, right?” she said.
“Yeah, they’re cool,” I said with a shrug.
“Did you see the guitar player? Chee Keydood. He’s so friggin’ hot it almost kills me. I want to run my fingers through his mussed-up hair and oooh.” She scrunched her hand to mimic the action.
Ally waved a twenty-dollar bill at the bar. It didn’t take long for her to get noticed by the male bartender although several others were vying for his and other bartenders’ attention. With her long blonde hair set into soft curls and a dress so short and tight that it left nothing to the imagination, I doubt anyone that night could ignore Ally.
“Nice name.” I took a sip of my drink. “I couldn’t see too well. But yeah, he looked all right. Not my type though. I’m not into guys with long hair.”
She widened her eyes as if I were crazy. “I guess that’s why we’re such good friends. We have such different taste in guys that we’d never fight over the same one.”
“Guess so.” I smiled and took a sip. “I thought the singer was pretty cute.”
“Leggy Bones? Really? Guess that proves my point.”
“Leggy Bones?” I repeated. “That’s his name? Where do they come up with these names?”
“Stage name, obviously. They’re a bunch of cheeky bastards.” As the bartender walked over, Ally looked at my glass. “Ready for another drink?”
I shook my head. “I still have this one.”
“We need to celebrate your promotion. Check you out—still in your twenties and already a director,” she said. “Not bad for a bookworm.”
“I’m barely still in my twenties. And I’m not just a bookworm. I go out.”
“Oh real-ly,” Ally said with skepticism dripping from the end of the drawn-out word.
“Yes. I go—places.”
“Going to bookstores or the gym doesn’t count as going out. I mean out-out. Nightlife. Music. Dancing. Like this.”
“Well, I’m here now.”
“Yes, we are. Now let’s check out the eye candy after I get my drink.” While Ally ordered her drink, I scanned the club. Most of the crowd stuck around after the band played and the DJ took over. He began with a short, fast song to keep the energetic vibe.
Also to keep the people around who only came to see the show, I imagine.
After the bartender brought Ally her drink, she said, “A toast. To my beautiful, brilliant, best friend. Congratulations. You worked hard to get here and you deserve it.”
I tried not to blush. “Thanks, Ally.”
“What are we celebrating?” a male voice interrupted from behind me.
I rolled my eyes at Ally as if to say can you believe it. Some guy totally creeping in on my time celebrating with my girlfriend. However, she was widening her eyes in a shut up, shut up gesture.
Why? It wasn’t that shocking to have some guy hitting on you in a club.
“We are not celebrating anything,” I said sharply as I turned to face the intruder.
Then my voice caught in my throat when I processed the interruption was spoken by a male with a slight English accent.
Yes, it was him. The singer of the Velvet Cocks. His face had appeared angelic under the spotlights up onstage. Now that he was only a foot from me, I saw a downright mischievous look about him, from the twinkle in his eye down to a slight smirk on his lips. His eyes were a bright hazel. I couldn’t miss the color and intensity highlighted by the lights in the bar area. And those lashes—so dark and thick.
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Be on the lookout for Lisa Carlisle's next book, Bloodlust & Metal, coming June 1, 2013
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