🎸We’re a Hurricane in the Making.🎸
DARE – A Rock Star Hero coming August 15th
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Check out the excerpt here: https://www.slscottauthor.com/blog
Dare Marquis is a bad boy rock star with a body to match.
Devilish good looks.
A voice that commands attention.
A night with him and no strings attached is just what I need. But he makes it impossible to not want more when he runs his hand through his dark, wild hair and smiles. One he only shares with me.
Weatherly Beck is an angel with a body made for sin.
Drop dead gorgeous.
Too good for any guy from the east side.
Her life is planned out, so I don’t have a right to step in and mess up her future. But when I look into her sapphire blue eyes and taste the innocence on her lips, I know we’re meant to be more than a one-night stand.
I want her to take a chance on me, to take a chance on us. She may not be a damsel in distress, but I Dare her to let me be her Hero.
Dark stubble dusts a chiseled jaw around full lips that I believe he licks for my benefit. I can’t deny I appreciate the gesture. I do. All the way to my core. Good Lord, he’s better than a Greek God carved of marble. His sculpted muscles define the shape of his shirt, making me want to touch that bulging bicep. This time I resist. Barely.
His eyes are the kind of warm that reminds me of being cozy in front of a fire on an Aspen winter’s night. I’m tempted to snuggle against him, but again, I don’t. We’re strangers. That would make me seem like a crazy person. Though I wonder if it even matters what people think of me anymore. Why do I care?
There are so many preconceived notions and boxes I’ve been shoved in to fit someone else’s expectations. What about what I want and expect? Does anyone care how I want my life to look or how I see my future?
“You have tattoos,” I blurt.
Amusement reaches his eyes and he holds out his arms to show me. “Yeah, a few.”
Tattoos wrap around his exposed forearms and trickle onto the top of three of his knuckles. Getting a closer look, I notice how anger infiltrates the black ink, contradicting the grin on his face. Despite the familiarity I feel with him, he’s more of a mystery by appearance alone than any man I’ve ever known.
He’s everything Lloyd isn’t and will never be. A real man—rugged and confident in a way I know he can back. He is so open to me that my guard falls down. “And why is that?”
“Why is what?”
“You said I should give him my number. So I’m wondering why I should?”
The bartender shakes his head and mumbles, “Fucking hell, Marquis,” before heading to the other end to take a drink order.
Marquis . . . the name doesn’t ring a bell specifically, but his face—so handsome that I struggle to look away. He says, “Because good girls like you deserve a good guy to take them out on a proper date. Jake’s a good guy.”
“What are you?”
“Your daddy’s worst nightmare.”
“My father’s worst nightmare would be me dating someone he considers bad for business. I’m not sure we define bad the same way these days. Are you bad?”
The right side of his mouth lifts. Leaning all the way in, his lips touch my ear, and his breath against my skin sends a thrill up my spine and goosebumps coating my arms. “Do you want me to be?” God yes! “I could be bad for you.”
The double entendre awakens the butterflies in my stomach. The bottle slips from my hands, spilling the beer across the wood, and startling me back to reality.