Releasing December 15th, "FALL WITH ME" brings readers more of the sultry hot rockers that you love from Jayne Frost's Sixth Street Bands Series, along with a healthy dose of steamy romance with some laughs on the side. Also, donāt forget to check out the cover art by none other than Judi Perkins at Concierge Literary Designs.
As the bassist for the band Caged, the last three years have been one, long non-stop party. Sure, Iāve had some regrets. Everyone does. But getting trapped in a relationship isnāt one of them. I know good and well what happens when the attraction fades. Iāve seen it first hand. Love is a zero sum game, so why play? As long as I'm upfront about my feelings, no one gets hurt. Besides, I'm never in one place long enough to worry about tomorrow.
That is, until the band decided to take an extended hiatus in our hometown. Thatās when I met Melody Sullivan. Sheās the full-package. Whip smart and beautiful, with enough determination to take on anything life has in store. And the best part? Melody shares my philosophy on the fleeting nature of attraction. She doesnāt buy into the whole āhappily ever afterā crap anymore than I do. Weāre perfect for each other. For now. And now is all I want.
With the expectations off the table, I can let my guard down and enjoy her company until the spark dies. And we both know it will. In a week, or a month. But until then, weāll just keep having fun. The good kind, with lots of sex and no strings attached. And when itās time to move on, we will. No drawn out goodbyes and no remorse.
Thatās the plan, at least.
Pinning Mel to the cinder block wall in her tiny living room, I kissed her deeply, my fingers creeping under the hem of her blouse. She sighed, the back of her head bumping against the concrete as I palmed her breast.
āFuckā¦sorry.ā My hand disappeared into her blond locks, searching for a lump. āAre you all right?ā
The girl had me so revved up I was ready to take her right here, inches from her front door.
Resting her palm against my chest, she laughed softly. āNo permanent damage. Iāve got a hard head.ā
Mel was hardheaded, all right. And smart. Not to mention sexy as hell.
Slipping out of my arms, she headed for the kitchen before I could devour her mouth again. I bit my lip when she ducked her head into the fridge, wiggling her ass as she poked around.
āWould you like something to drink? Iāve got water andā¦ā She walked back with two bottles of Dasani. āWater.ā
āWaterās fine.ā
Twisting the cap off the bottle, I looked around the tiny apartment. Melās place was as bare bones as it got. Campus housing with concrete walls and worn carpet. Her entire kitchen would fit in the guest bathroom at my house.
Sinking onto the arm of the recliner, Mel snagged her lip between her teeth. āIāve never had a one-nighter,ā she admitted, like it was a bad thing. āSo youāre going to have to tell me how this goes.ā
Shifting my gaze to the large calendar on the wall in her dining room, I glanced over the neat stack of books on the table below. The girl was organizedāOCD styleāwhich was refreshing. But the fact that she was already planning for my imminent departure unnerved me.
Closing the gap between us, I twirled a lock of her hair around my finger. āIt goes the way it goes, angel. The only thing set in stone is your breakfast. Eggs, right?ā
She looked up, the sparkle in her eyes faint at best. āIām not expecting you to be here in the morning, Christian. We both know what this is. Iāve heard all the rumors. Iām not naĆÆve, you know?ā
I pulled away out of sheer reflex. All night long we were just Christian and Mel. My celebrity was barely mentioned. Hell, she didnāt even pump me for information about the band.
After a moment, I eased onto the chair.
āReally?ā I slid her onto my lap. āWhat have you heard about me? Iām dying to know.ā
Staring at the bottle in her hand, her fingernail skated over the label. āThe usual. Oversexed rocker. Never in one place more than a night.ā
Tucking a finger under her chin, I tilted her face until our gazes met.
āIāve been in Austin for months, so you shouldnāt believe everything you hear.ā
Her expression indicated she saw through my halfhearted attempt to address the rumors. I may have been in the same city, but that didnāt mean I was in the same bed. A Google search would turn up dozens of pictures to prove the point.
Mel slipped her arms around my neck. āIām just letting you know that I get it. Guys like you donāt dateāthey fuck.ā She fought to keep her smile. āAnd breakfast isnāt usually part of the deal.ā
I tightened my grip on her waist, my thumb skimming the smooth skin above the waistband of her jeans. Conversations like this werenāt usually unnecessary. The chicks I hung out with knew the score. Hell, they were fine with it. No truths exchanged beyond the basics: hotel or tour bus, and where should the cab drop you off when weāre finished.
But Mel wasnāt like that. She spent her time in libraries, not waiting behind rope lines hoping to get my attention.
Taking her hand, I blew out a breath. āIāve been on the road for four years. Itās a little hard to plan breakfast when you donāt know what city youāll be come morning. But I canāt blame it all on my lifestyle. From a strictly biological standpoint, you know, attraction fades as soon as the hormone rush is over. Pheromones and all that.ā Chancing a peek at her face, I found her nodding in agreement, her green eyes glued to mine. I smiled, tracing a finger over the curve of her jaw. āIām not saying Iām opposed to a repeat performance. I just donāt believe in making promises I canāt keep.ā
Realization slammed me in the chest as she mulled over my declaration. Despite the passionate kiss at the door, Mel wasnāt a sure thing. She could ask me to leave. Hell, she might.
I held my breath as she shoved to her feet.
Propping a hand on her hip, she studied me for a long moment. āBut you will be making me breakfastā¦is that what Iām hearing?ā
Not quite a question, but a statement of fact. And one Iād gladly agree to if it meant a night in her bed.
āYou can bet on it, angel.ā
I stood with the intention of capturing her mouth.
Instead, Mel entwined our fingers and said, āCool. I think Iāll take you to bed now.ā
As the guitarist for the rock band Caged, I know the rules: no relationships. No complications. Leave āem willing when you go, but always go. Besides, itās not like Iām ever in one place for more than a few days at a time. As the next hottest thing out of Austin, the band and me are riding the wave, and the music is all that matters.
Until herā¦
Lily Tennison has ācomplicationā written across her beautiful face. But I canāt get involved. The timingās all wrong. But sheās under my skin, and I canāt resist her troubled eyes and sweet smile. And I do have a little time to kill. Not much, just a few days in Dallas.
So Iāll scratch the itch and move on, like I always do.
Simple, right?
Soā¦Who is Jayne?
As a writer you would think that would be a simple questionā¦but itās not. I spend so much time living in my characters heads, listening to their voices, that sometimes I forget about my own.
I guess I should start with the basics: the backstory. I was born and raised in California. At this point, Iām usually asked what it was like to grow up near the beach, but sadly, I donāt know. I grew up in the āotherā part of California. Perfect for an aspiring writer, if you ask me. You learn a lot about keeping yourself busy when the nearest house is a mile awayā¦and it belongs to your grandparents.
I spent all my time with my nose in a book, living vicariously through the characters, until I wrote a book of my own. I was ten at the time. It was a scintillating piece that cast the family pet as the protagonist.
By the time I went to high school, I moved on to romance. Why? Because I met my very own prince charming. I wrote love poems in my journal about the green-eyed boy who stole my heart. He promised, the way all storybook heroes do, to sweep me away and take me on a grand adventure. And he did.
We picked up and moved to the Lone Star State and began the story of us. The best stories begin without a road map or a compass. Veering off course makes the journey so much more interesting.
True to form, just when I thought my life was set, we started the next adventure. I traded in my cowboy boots and followed my green-eyed boy to Las Vegas. My home will always be in Texas, but my heart is anywhere that he is. Our beautiful daughter made the journey with us. Our son stayed in Texas, to write his own story.
Somehow, in the midst of the chaos that is our life, I find time to write. Writing is what I love. I might stray from romance every now and then if that is what moves meā¦but I always come back. Some of the stories donāt seem romantic at all. They are gritty stories about flawed characters that find each other and hold on tight. Those are the stories that speak to me. Because thatās life. I believe that every story should have a happy endingāeven the difficult ones.
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