PRIVATE LOVE IN A PUBLIC PLACE
Mags O'Brien lives on the alcohol-soaked, drug-enhanced concert circuit, managing out-of-control rocker Julian MacAvoy. She helps him spread his musical gospel to his adoring followers, despite the fast-spinning turnstile on his bedroom door, and the broken hearts he leaves in his wake.
Mags believes she’s immune to Julian’s magnetic personality but when controversy hits the tour, she finds herself in danger of falling at his feet, slave to his appetites and her own desire and need.
Julian refuses to be tamed, but the pressure of the ravenous crowds clamps tighter and tighter around him. His chaotic world starts to crumble when he realizes his motivation to continue touring comes from an unobtainable woman. Can he force her to make the agonizing choice between himself and her estranged husband?
An erotic and candid look at life on the road.
Praise for PRIVATE LOVE IN A PUBLIC PLACE:
I'm a huge fan of Rock&Roll love stories.This one rates right up there with Olivia Cunning's "Sinners" & "Sole Regret" and "FitzWilliam Darcy". I can't wait for the 2nd book to come out in April! This story has it all... Heartbreak, Steamy but Very Real love and really tough choices. At one point, I cried like a baby and in the next, I was yelling at my KindleFire. LoL...
Bottom line- Totally worth adding this book to your collection! (Amazon)
Sexy and gritty, raw and engaging, "Private Love in a Public Place" takes you on a personal behind-the-scenes tour of a rock star's life on the road from the perspective of his manager, a woman who loves the artist as much as she loves the man himself. … This is a fresh, steamy and surprising love story guaranteed to entertain! (Amazon)
Mags is open and real, a woman I could relate too in a job many of us would see as glamorous (manager to a rock star or babysitter perhaps) but which she made very real, faults and all. Jules is that mix of arrogant tosser and little boy lost, who you can't help but fall in love with. A rock star who shows us he's human.
If this is Ms. Kenyon's first book, I can't wait to read more of her work. (Amazon)
Did you enjoy PRIVATE LOVE IN A PUBLIC PLACE? Are you hanging out for Book 2?
Want to know what really went on between Jules, Barbie and Young Elvis? Pick up THE FAN - a short erotic romp - written for those of you who desperately need to know what happened in that bathroom!
FREE at all good Ebook stores
Tamsen Parsons is happy with her wacky world. So she leases fish to big business, her bedroom resembles a gypsy fortune-teller’s caravan and she’s got the roomie from hell. Still, the sun’s shining and she can smile.
That is until uptight lawyer Matthew Solomon rolls in like a storm. He’s over the corporate climb, unsure what he wants in life anymore and the sexy and cheerful Tamsen is exactly the short-term tonic he needs.
What Matt doesn’t count on is his interfering mother, Tamsen’s out-of-control best friend and falling in love.
Can a gypsy fish-minder really bring this bad-boy to heel?
RETURN TO ALA MOANA BEACH
The small flickering light of the lantern left Lulu's hand and, with it, her wishes and prayers for healing.
They had lost so much.
As her small twinkling craft, with Cat and Daniel's scribbled prayers and her memories of her mother etched on it's side, drifted away to meet with the thousands of similar luminescent lanterns, Lulu felt the prick of tears behind her eyes.
"Daddy would like this." Cat's voice interrupted her thoughts as her daughter's small wet hand found Lulu's. Yes, but Ty would not have come even if he could.
The annual Hawaiian celebration of world peace through prayer, music, ceremony and dance, had little appeal for their injured returned serviceman.
"Daddy can come with us next year."
Lulu squeezed her seven-year-old daughter's hand.
Unsure if she hung on so tightly for fear of losing her in the crowds, stood knee-deep in the water at Ala Moana Beach, or because she feared Ty's absence from their family would be permanent.
Daniel stood beside them, waist deep in the water, the three-year-old's hand dwarfed in that of his Grandfather's.
All around them thousands who had made the pilgrimage to the beach, released their lanterns into the warm Pacific water.
The spectacle and power of the Memorial Day Lantern Festival became apparent.
As her mother's lantern floated toward the horizon, Lulu experienced a simple connectedness with her ancestors.
An immediate bond with the living and her children followed.
Lulu was her mother's legacy.
Her mother had gone and at last, Ty had returned. Battered, bruised and broken, but alive. Where there was life, she now knew resided hope and he was worth fighting for.
As the sky turned from orange to black and she watched the dance of thousands of glittering lanterns upon the sea, a profound sense of peace touched Lulu. Tonight she would rest and rejoice with her father and children. Tomorrow would begin the fight to regain her life and her husband.
She could have been looking into the eyes of her tormentor. All reason and logic told her Glen remained incarcerated, yet every atom in her being screamed at her to run from her son's home.
"Hello. Can I help you?" Calm, gentle green eyes gazed at her, the blush of exhaustion turning the pale skin below to a mottled blue.
"I'm Claudette." She put her hand out so he could shake it. Even if the prospect of him touching her made her every nerve stand on end.
"Claude? You've changed." he said. She didn't have to worry about him shaking her hand, he left it hanging in the air. "I wouldn't have recognized you."
"That was always the idea, your brother threatened to kill me if he ever saw me again." Or if she came anywhere near her son.
"It's a good job he's behind bars, then isn't it?" The words sounded more like a statement of fact, than a civil question.
Claude swallowed her anger and remembered why she was here. "I'm so sorry about your loss, Thomas."
"Yeah, well." He looked away. The Carmichaels were a proud family; he wouldn't want Claude to see how much the loss of his mother affected him. "It's William I feel for, the kid's lost the only mother he's ever known."
If Thomas wanted to put in the knife, he knew how to do it. "And don't think you're just going to swan in here now and pretend that nothing ever happened and you can take him away. I won't have it." The surge of aggression made him look even more like his brother.
Claude shivered, although the mid-summer sun beat through the fine fabric of her blouse. She hadn't anticipated this kind of hostile reception. She presumed, mistakenly, that Thomas still a confirmed bachelor living the high life in Europe, would beg her to take William.
"You can't look after a teenager." She would not see her son dragged to the other side of the world, away from everything and everyone he'd ever known.
"What makes you think you can. You abandoned him."
Claude took a deep breath, pulling herself up to all of her five foot four inches, what she lacked in height, she made up for in determination. She hadn't come this far to have her son snatched away from under her nose again. "Look. I just want to talk to you. Can I come in? I've brought a date loaf, for afternoon tea." The Carmichael boys had always been a soft touch for baking. She thought that she saw a thawing in Thomas' demeanor.
"I don't want you telling William who you are. He's gone through enough lately, without you dropping this on him."
"No buts." Thomas held up his hands, palms facing her. "That's the terms. Take 'em or leave 'em."
"Okay." She would agree to his terms now. If he proved to be anything like his brother, once he made up his mind, there would be no moving him.
Thomas held the blue front door open, standing to one side of the plant filled hallway. Nora Carmichael's love of houseplants had always endeared her to Claude. Each one of the fifteen or twenty plants that inhabited the small entranceway to the cottage looked to be in perfect condition. Plants, like so many living things, thrived under the compassionate touch of Nora. Claude wondered who would look after her much coveted collection now.
Crossing the threshold, Claude was grateful to drop the weight of her old leather satchel on the hardwood floor, taking care to ensure that its precious contents were safe from prying eyes.
The cottage had changed little in the thirteen years since Claude had been here. It seemed almost yesterday that she had left, frightened and fretful, leaving William behind. Nora, unbeknownst to William's father, Glen, had sent photos with her yearly Christmas card, so Claude had some idea of how William had grown.
Still, she had been unprepared for the strapping young man she found in the lounge.
"Leave it!" The deep voice of a man boomed across the room.
A commotion, the beating sound of wings came from behind a low table.
"Tinker, get out of there." A lanky, junior version of Thomas crossed the small room in four strides, making for the source of the sound and in hot pursuit of an overweight tabby cat.
"William, how many times have I told you not to play with that in here."
Almost on cue, the cat made another desperate lunge at the small flapping plastic toy, sinking its claws into the body of the bird and knocking the occasional table. A tall vase of purple and yellow Iris, Nora's favorites, started a slow rolling tumble and, before anyone could get to them, cartwheeled off the table onto the floor.
Tinker, distracted from his mechanical prey, screamed and spat his distaste at being sprayed with water and shot for the door, moving at a surprising pace, despite the extra weight he carried.
"Aw, crap!" Thomas ran his hand through his thick, brown hair and Claude noticed a couple of glints of grey. The years had been kind to him. A body hugging tee shirt disclosed no signs of early middle age spread and Claude decided he could have passed for at least five years younger than his forty-one years.
William stood stock still in the middle of the chaos. A red plastic launching gun in his hand and a fluttering toy bird at his feet. "Hi, who are you?"
"I'm Claude." She wanted to add the words 'I'm your mother and I'm sorry I haven't been here for you.'
"She's an old friend of mine, from my college days." Technically, Thomas didn't lie, she'd known the twins at school, even though they were a couple of years ahead of her, but still, lying by omission smacked of lying in her books.
"I've brought afternoon tea." Claude proffered the small polka dot cake tin.
William took it from her hand, dropping the plastic gun on the damp table and tearing the lid off the tin. "Cool. Baking." It appeared William had inherited his father and uncle's taste for sweet foods.
Thomas dropped to his haunches and began to pick up the scattered Iris. A dark green spreading stain formed where the water had sunk into the pale green carpet.
"William. Get a towel from the kitchen, this needs mopping up."
"Sure. I'll cut the cake as well."
"Don't touch that until I've made a cup of coffee. Just put it on the bench."
A sulky William made his way out of the room. Claude watched him go. He even moved like his father. A niggling thought broke through in the back of her mind. Maybe it might not have been a good idea to come here.
She banished the rouge thought. The boy needed a mother and she was all he had.