As head of security to Stage Dive, one of the biggest rock bands in the world, Sam Knowles has plenty of experience dealing with trouble. But spoilt brat Martha Nicholson just might be the worst thing he’s ever encountered. The beautiful troublemaker claims to have reformed, but Sam knows better than to think with what’s in his pants. Unfortunately, it’s not so easy to make his heart fall into line.
Martha’s had her sights on the seriously built bodyguard for years. Quiet and conservative, he’s not even remotely her type. So why the hell can’t she get him out of her mind? There’s more to her than the Louboutin wearing party-girl of previous years, however. Maybe it’s time to let him in on that fact and deal with this thing between them.
An Excerpt from Strong: A Stage Dive Novella
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“Martha,” said Sam, raising his head off the edge to appraise my red bikini. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” I set the glasses and bottle beside the tub. “Is this a set-up?”
“Not by me.”
I frowned on account of it being my go-to expression.
“I’m out here every night after I finish my workout.”
“Of course you are.” I sighed. “Lizzy would know that.”
For a moment he said nothing, his gaze fixed on my face as if he could read me. And he probably could. “Breeze is cool tonight, but the water’s good and hot. Are you getting in?”
I nodded and carefully made my way down the steps into the as-promised beautifully warm bubbling water. It did feel dangerously good.
“What’s in the bucket?” he asked.
I knelt on the step to inspect the bottle. “Fucking Cristal champagne. This is so a set-up.”
“Doesn’t say much if you have to be tricked into spending time with me,” he said, tone deceptively light.
“You know that’s not it.”
“Do I? Because I can leave if you like.”
With practiced ease, I popped the cork and filled the two glasses, handing him one. “Sam, will you please stay and have a drink with me?”
“Why, Martha, I’d love to.” His big hand took the delicate glass from me. Everything about the man was solid, bulky. Not my usual type at all. Next to Sam, I felt positively delicate. Hilarious when you considered how many men I’d scared out of a second date. He made me wish I knew anatomy better. So I could put a name to all of the bumps and bulges in his shoulders and arms. His steamy wet shoulders and arms. “You’re staring.”
“Hmm?” I asked.
“You’re staring at me. Sit down.”
“Oh.” I sat.
“No need to frown.”
“I’m not frowning.”
“Whatever you say.” His voice was all placid and happy now. I amped my expression up to a scowl. An arm stretched across the edge of the tub, he put the glass to his lips, taking a sip. A wince. “Do you actually like this shit?”
“I don’t mind it. Why, what do you drink?”
He took another sip, gaze thoughtful. “Red wine, beer, bourbon if I’m in the mood for liquor.”
“The beer and bourbon make sense, but I’d never have picked you as a red wine aficionado.”
“No? Nice to know I can still surprise you.”
“Oh, you’re all about the surprises lately.”
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