🔥🔥 NEW RELEASE 🔥🔥
Rising West by Alyson Santos is LIVE and FREE in KU!
“Intensely beautiful, written poetically, and everything I want in a book. This book made my list.” – USA Today Best Selling Author T.L. Smith
Turner Artist Management Urgent Action Item:
✔ Find a new frontman for Burn Card.
When one of your top artists loses their lead singer to a solo career, you jump on the problem. When it also involves a devastating breakup with the band’s queen bee, you drop everything and run.
So I did—run. To the east, where I found a young single father so mesmerizing, his talent almost makes you forget he comes at a price. Enormous potential steeped in personal tragedy, what’s an agency to do?
See, I’m just the manager. The story that follows actually belongs to my client Liberty Blake and the enigmatic heartthrob whose world is about to be blown apart.
Because now that the industry wolves have the scent, everyone’s desperate to know:
Who is MASON WEST??
START READING TODAY!
Amazon US ➤ https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08562957Z
Amazon UK ➤ https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08562957Z
Amazon AU ➤ https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B08562957Z
Amazon CA ➤ https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B08562957Z
Amazon Universal ➤ http://mybook.to/RisingWest
✔ Check out the original song “SAYS WHO” ➤ https://youtu.be/mhcc-fK5OCE
I can’t stop the grin that slides over my lips as I slap the pen back to the table in front of her. Protecting it with my hand, I lean forward with a severe expression. “If I give this back, can I trust you not to attack me with it again?”
Her lips twitch as she fights back a smile. Her eyes lock on mine. “No promises, West.”
“Then I’m not releasing it.”
She raises a brow in challenge and reaches for my hand. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing as she tries to lift my hand, first with one of hers, then with both. When she focuses her undivided attention on yanking my wrist, I can’t hold back anymore. Her death grip is adorable.
“This is a really important pen, huh,” I say casually as she strains with everything she has against my arm.
“The importantest,” she grunts, now jerking with her entire bodyweight. “How the hell are you so strong?”
“If it’s so important, maybe you should stop throwing it at people.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“No? How do you figure?”
“You made me do it.”
“Really.” I lean back in a nonchalant stance as she struggles against me, just to piss her off more.
“Yeah. If you weren’t being such a dick, I wouldn’t have had to throw it.”
I’m not sure about the effectiveness of whatever her current tactic is supposed to be, but it involves squatting her cute ass in my direction, so I’m all for it.
“How was I being a dick? Because I wanted you to sing?”
“I see. So because I think you have a killer voice, you threw a pen at me.”
She freezes mid-lunge and stares up at me.
“You think I have a killer voice?”
“But…” She straightens, closing the gap until she’s the one gazing down at me now. “I mean…” Her fingers remain on my wrist, and suddenly I feel the pressure of her touch everywhere else as well. Shit.
By the way her gaze drifts from my eyes to my lips, she senses it too. Her grip loosens on my wrist just enough to drag it up my arm where it rests on my bicep. I suck in a breath, praying my brain is strong enough to stop my ravenous muscles from doing something stupid.
Her other hand reaches for my lips. Two steps closer and she’s almost flush between my legs. Holy hell, I’m suddenly the weakest man on the planet. My only defense is stasis. Don’t move, because once my body gets the signal to react…
Her hand cups my cheek; her eyes search deep. I grip the edge of the chair as my blood pumps with the fury of every pen that’s ever been thrown at a boy by a girl, and freaking hell I’m not strong enough to sit still—
“Um, Ms. Liberty, you’re a-pposed to use your words, not your hands.”
We stiffen and glance over to find Brooklyn studying our strange position with clear indignation. The spoon hangs from her mouth as she cocks a hand on her hip, her expression telling us she’s positive adults are super weird and quite possibly poorly-behaved as well.
I clear my throat and straighten in my chair, finally releasing the pen that started it all. Liberty is fighting to keep a straight face as she scoops it off the table and returns to her seat like nothing happened. Just two coworkers working. No big deal.
“She’s right. I’m sorry, Mason,” she says, her voice trembling from the effort of sincerity.
Brooklyn nods in approval before settling her stare on me. “Your turn, Daddy.”
I clear my throat, clench a fist to hold steady. “I’m sorry as well.”
She darts her critical gaze between the two of us.
“And… what?” I ask. Wrong question, judging by the laser that shoots back at me.
“Annnnd… now you sing the friendship song!” She throws up her hands in disbelief at our stupidity. “You know… ‘you say sorry, I say sorry, friends we are again.’” She even directs our symphony with an impatient wave for each beat. It takes us three times through before she’s satisfied with our performance and returns to her show after another huff of frustration.
“Do you think ‘The Friendship Song’ is copyrighted?” Liberty asks, glancing up from her notebook.
I smirk and reposition the guitar in my lap. “I hope not. We could totally sample that for the bridge.”
The author is giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card and a signed paperback giveaway on her Facebook page. Stop by to enter —> https://www.facebook.com/authoralysonsantos/
I’m a writer, musician, and cat lover. Not always in that order.
I write what needs to come out, whether it’s pain, tears, or laughter. I write people and relationships, about the beauty and horror of what we do to ourselves and each other. I write Love. Vengeance. Compassion. Cruelty. Trust. Betrayal. Forgiveness. Darkness, and the incredible way humans destroy and heal each other.
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