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I hope you’ve enjoyed this prequel to Wild Love. Simone and Wilder’s full-length story is coming soon but until then, catch up with more of Kacey Shea’s rock stars in the Off Track Records series. Start with DETOUR now available in ebook, audio, and print!
Humor, Heat, & Happily Ever Afters
Kacey Shea is a USA Today bestselling author of steamy contemporary romance. She enjoys writing strong and smart heroines, heroes with hearts of gold, and stories that deliver a satisfying, well-earned happily ever after.
When she’s not writing you will find her playing Uber to one of her three children, drinking iced tea by the gallon, or planning her next escape from the Arizona heat.
Kacey has a free book for all newsletter subscribers along with bonus epilogues for her most beloved novels.
https://kaceysheabooks.com/newsletter-freebie
a short story prequel to No Commitment
ABOUT THE BOOK
When Tyler Caldwell steps off the tour bus, I don’t recognize the boy I worked with a decade ago. He’s grown from a boy to a man. A hot, lean, sexy rock star of a man.
A fierce attraction simmers between us, but my ex took both my dog and my confidence in the break-up.
Will this be my night with a rock star?
“You’re what?” I practically yell into the phone.
“I’m trying to get a squirrel out of my house, Danielle,” my boss tells me. “You can do this. Have Christine take your position for the night and you take mine. I’ll do my best to get there tonight, but it’s more likely I’ll just see you tomorrow.” He cuts the call, and that’s that.
I stare blankly at my phone for a second as I sit at my desk—early to work as usual—and contemplate what he just told me.
Instead of the back of house supervisor position I’ve been working for two years as the assistant venue manager at a huge arena in Milwaukee, tonight I will be the actual venue manager.
That means instead of operational supervision like checking up on my ushers, box office staff, and maintenance crew, I’ll be working with the band’s manager, providing hospitality, and maybe even working directly with members of the band.
All because Patrick, my boss, somehow let a freaking squirrel into his house.
Capital Kingsmen, the band headlining tonight, is set to arrive in two hours. The opening band will arrive in the next fifteen minutes.
I’ve seen Patrick do it plenty of times, but I’m more the quiet, behind the scenes managing type, not the one who meets with the musical acts we’ve booked to perform.
We’re completely sold out tonight with a capacity of twenty thousand expected in attendance, so it would’ve been a busy night either way. But now I have the responsibility of ensuring the band is comfortable and all the riders in their contract are met, and that’s just never been my job. Hospitality I can handle, but I don’t even know how to deal with the technical stuff.
And he wants me to call Christine from marketing, the woman who will be all too happy to step up and prove herself.
The next thing you know, I’ll be out on my ass because Christine’s hair is blonder and her legs are longer and she’ll just waltz in and take my job out from under me all because of dumb Patrick and an even dumber squirrel.
I huff that this is my life right now as I pull up Christine’s number, and I dial it before I lose my nerve.
I will not let her take my job from me. I repeat that mantra a few times in my head before she answers.
“I suppose an usher has a sore throat and you need me to cover?” she answers.
God, she is just not my favorite person. “No,” I say, forcing the snide tone from my voice. “Actually Patrick is tied up and he needs me to step in as acting venue manager tonight. He asked me to call you to see if you’re available to work as my assistant manager.”
“Guarantee I get to meet the band and I’ll do it,” she says.
Capital Kingsmen is made up of four good looking guys. I’ve seen their pictures enough times over the last few months as I worked with the marketing materials for the summer season, and I get why she’d want to meet them. Some people get involved in this career because of their love for musical performances, and others get involved because they love chasing celebrities. Any guesses which one I am versus which one Christine is?
“Fine,” I mutter.
She squeak-squeals.
“Be here in an hour,” I say, and I hang up. I pull up Alex’s number next. He’s Patrick’s right hand technical man.
“I already heard from Patrick and I’m on my way,” he says instead of hello.
I laugh. “Thanks, Alex. I owe you one.”
“No, but Patrick does,” he says, and I can tell from his tone that he isn’t happy. “I had a date tonight.”
“Bring her along. I’ll make sure she meets the band.” I think I have the actual power to do that.
He’s thrilled and I’m already putting out fires. I’m practically made for this job.
Except I’m totally not. I’m nervous as I meet the opening band, but everything goes smoothly. Their riders are basic—some towels, food, and beer.
I take care of the crew, too, which is mostly standard requests. And then I read through the riders for Capital Kingsmen.
They’ve listed the standard items plus some unusual requests. Black licorice bites in a bowl, chicken fingers with crispy French fries, a bottle of cheap scotch, and twelve lemons.
Whatever. It’s my job tonight to get that stuff for them, not to judge them for it. Actually I already had Christine pick up the licorice, and she’s busy with the ushers now.
My phone beeps with a text just as I’m emptying the bag of black licorice into a bowl, and a quick glance at my phone tells me the band is here.
The openers were nice, and they took it all in stride that they weren’t meeting with Patrick, but they’re newbies. They’re not quite as famous as these guys.
I’ll admit I’m more than a little nervous, but I’m also a professional. I can do this.
I walk through the maze of hallways to get to the loading dock where artists enter and exit the arena. I’m holding a clipboard tight against my chest where my heart thumps nervously. I’m wearing casual jeans and a t-shirt since I didn’t really think I’d be meeting the band tonight.
Their tour bus is already here and parked, but they haven’t gotten off just yet. As I wait for their manager to get off the bus and come talk to me since agents and managers are typically who Patrick deals with, I glance down at my clipboard. I’ve checked just about everything off the list I can for now.
I hear the door to the bus open, and when I glance up, a single person gets off the bus and makes his way toward me. I’m pretty sure it’s a member of the band, not the manager, and I only know that because of those marketing materials. I probably should have studied these guys a little more closely. Maybe learned their names.