SynopsisCompanion to the first two the books in the Tattoo Thief series (Tattoo Thief and Tyler & Stella) which can be read as a standalone.
On the Internet, secrets never die…
Violet can’t imagine anything worse than having her very private, very naked photos strewn across the Internet.
Until they multiply like a virus.
With her name, address, and phone number attached.
And her boss finds out. And a stalker finds her.
Violet’s refuge is a rock star known for going through groupies faster than guitar picks. Letting Jayce get close enough to protect her exposes her secrets—and her heart—to a man whose celebrity could ruin her.
That’s because being a nobody is the one thing that keeps Violet’s photos from making headlines. And it’s the reason she can never fall for a rock star.
Secrets spread like wildfire when a celebrity fans the flames.
REVENGE BOUND is a full-length, standalone novel, and a companion to the Tattoo Thief books. It contains steamy scenes and strong language intended for mature readers.
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Excerpt
Jayce has escorted Violet home to her apartment, but a text to her phone reveals that the stalker is watching them. This is from Jayce’s perspective:I can handle crying.Some girls cry to get their way. Some girls cry because they think they’ll change my mind. Some girls cry to win an argument.But I’ve never heard crying like this. Violet’s fragile body shakes against mine and she cries as if her heart is breaking.I squeeze my arms more tightly around her as if she’d fly into a million pieces if I didn’t hold her together. I want my hold to show her she’s safe, or at least stop the earthquake shaking her world.I’ve had seven years to get used to fame, crazy fans and a few clingy girlfriends who sent stalkerish texts. But Violet’s texts are creepier, and they’re specific enough to shatter her sense of security.I thread my arms under Violet’s legs, pull her up from the couch, and carry her toward the bedroom I assume is hers. I don’t turn on the lights. After my initial inspection of the apartment, I know her walls are a photo gallery of black and white nudes, and the hulking shape in the corner is a bed covered in a purple comforter that reminds me of her name. Violet.I bend to place her on her bed and her arms stay locked around my neck so I can’t stand up. My pocket pings and I bite back another curse—why didn’t I turn her stupid phone off a long time ago? Why didn’t she?I know why. We both need to see where this is going so we’ll know what to do next.I lower myself on the bed beside Violet and her body shudders with the breath-hitching aftershocks of sobs. Her arms are still clasped tightly behind my neck and so I lie on my side, one arm beneath her and my other arm—where, exactly?If this were any other girl, my hand would know right where to go. Up her shirt and on her tits. Down her hips and around her ass. And it’s not like I don’t want to do that to Violet. When we were uploading pictures together, each time a strand of hair slipped forward and brushed her collarbone, it made my cock twitch.But tonight Violet’s lying on her bed, broken to pieces, and I don’t know how to make it right.My hand finally chooses a resting spot of its own accord, on her shoulder. That’s safe, right? Not creepy? Only my cock seems a little too excited about touching her nearly bare shoulder and I scoot my ass back away from her to be sure she doesn’t accidentally brush against me.What kind of man gets turned on by a broken, bawling girl?A fucking sick jackass.But not as sick at the bastard who keeps texting Violet. All she’ll say is he’s not a boyfriend, but who is he to her? A one-night stand? An ex? The texts didn’t really get me riled until the creepy-as-fuck stalker one.Lie. I hated them the minute I thought she was with someone else.Violet shudders and a fresh round of tears spill down her cheeks. Her soaked lashes are dark against nearly white skin dusted with freckles. Flame-red hair fans out across her white pillowcase.Snot and all, this girl is fucking gorgeous.How did I not see it the first time? Maybe because her boobs are hidden under a plain yellow T-shirt instead of pushed up to her chin like Shelly’s. Maybe because she doesn’t look like most girls I date.I have a type. Curvy, bubbly, blonde. Big eyes, big tits, big smile. Easy talk, easy fun, easy hookup. No strings.That last bit is key.Violet rolls on her side away from me, leaving me with a face full of hair that smells faintly of flowers and a small, round ass that tapers to a slim waist. Her shoulders still tremble but the keening wail is done. I stroke her shoulder tentatively, and at first she tenses, but then she relaxes under my touch.I can’t leave her like this.It’s almost two in the morning and I’m on a bed, dressed in scrubs, with a snot-covered crying girl who is also fully clothed and scared out of her mind. This is not how I do things. I like to keep things light and free from obligations.
But Violet’s got some magnetic pull that anchors me here.
About the Author
Heidi Joy lives in Happy Valley off Sunnyside Road. She swears she did not make that up.Heidi’s obsessed with storytelling. Her career includes marketing, journalism, and a delicious few years as a food columnist. Media passes took her backstage with several rock bands, where she learned that sometimes a wardrobe malfunction is exactly what the rock star intends.You’ll most often find Heidi Joy with her husband and two small kids cooking, fishing, exploring the Northwest, and building epic forts in their living room.She loves to hear from readers via messages at facebook.com/author.heidi.
*Stalking is encouraged! *
Nice post
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