Monday, July 27, 2015

The Truth of Tristan Lyons by L.B. Dunbar

My Review:

I was prepared not to like Tristan Lyons at all. Having read the first 3 books in this series, Tristan struck me as player of women. Anything goes in the bedroom with his current “flavor”. As far as I could tell, Tristan was the guy in the band with the attitude of use 'em and lose 'em. That is, until I read his story.

Tristan is not the person portrayed in the earlier books of The Legendary Rock Star Series. There is a reason why Tristan is the way he is. That becomes very apparent in this 4th book of the series.

This was another great read in a line of great reads from L.B. Dunbar. The story line of Tristan Lyons is one that keeps the reader turning the pages. It is intense, sad, happy, and finally fulfilled at the end. I loved it and this may be my favorite of The Legendary Rock Star Series. A book well worth taking the time to read!

Title: The Truth of Tristan Lyons
Series: Legendary Rock Stars #4
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Rock Star Romance
 Release Date: July 27, 2015



I understand why I have the nickname. Hey, what can I say? I like women. All women. It doesn’t matter what shape, size, or color. I’m even into sharing. I’ve done it all, seen it all, but I’m at an all-time low. Who wouldn’t be? My best friend is missing. My uncle’s an asshole. I don’t know who I am without The Nights. We are a band of brothers, soldiering through the world with our music. Only, our faithful leader is gone, and everyone else in the band is falling for the oldest trap: love. Love is a lie. It is painful. It is hurtful.

I need a break. I want to be alone. I'm not prepared to share the exclusive home on the Island. I'm not prepared for her. I don’t know who she is or why she's here. She tells me to call her Ireland. I tell her my first name only. Originally, I don’t want to believe she doesn’t recognize me. Bass guitarist for The Nights, come on? After a while we both play the game. Secrets are another form of lies, aren't they?

Our fantasy will crash to reality too soon. Secrets catch up to you. The truth has to be told. It confirms what I already know: love is a lie.

Until her.

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The Truth of Tristan Lyons excerpt © L.B. Dunbar

I wanted to know who she was. Scratch that, I didn’t care who she was. I wanted to know how she got in the house. Damn these fangirls, sometimes.  They knew no shame. 
“Hey,” I said grabbing her upper arm. “How did you get in here?”
She seemed caught unaware of my approach and screamed loudly, pushing at my chest hard enough, the sheer surprise forced me to let go of her.
With her hand on her chest and her breasts rising and falling in great agitation, I was able to see her big blue eyes and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose. Her chin length blonde hair fell forward as she bent to clasp her knees and catch her breath.
Standing up almost as quickly as she bent over, she spoke to me through delicious looking pink lips.
“Who the fuck are you?” she growled.
“Who the fuck, are you?” I returned.
“You know what, never mind. You need to go,” I said, cutting her off and reaching for her upper arm again. “I don’t know how you got in here, where you came from, or how you found me, but you need to go.”
I began to tug her toward the front entry, her feet sliding in her flip-flops across the tile flooring. She pulled back, and the force made her skid on an angle across the slippery surface as I dragged her. She continued to glare at me quizzically, leaning away from me.
“I don’t know what you are talking about?”
“Did you follow me, is that it? See me in the airport?”
“Okay, I love you too, now you need to go. Okay?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am?”
“I don’t.”
I stopped, still holding firmly to her arm. Something in her voice sounded like she was being serious.
“I’m Tristan.”
She blinked, confusion clearly on her face. I was thoughtful for a moment. It was the innocence in her blue eyes, and the fact she looked like she might cry. Something wasn’t right with this scenario.
“Trist – an,” I said slowly, as if she had some type of hearing impairment.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“Country,” she answered so quickly, she didn’t even blink an eye or stop for thought. On top of that, she said it in such a way that showed she was thoroughly confused, and almost disgusted with me, for even asking such a ridiculous question. She wrinkled her nose.
“Look, I know the owner, and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I know the owner,” I repeated, “and you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said, pulling at her own arm again and sticking out a hand to press against my chest as leverage. I had tugged my shirt off at some point while I was passed out, and her warm hand felt good on my air-conditioned cool skin. Her hand was tiny, I noticed. All of her was thin.
“I’m supposed to be here. Alone,” I emphasized again.
She didn’t respond, so I added, “I think I’ll just call the owner myself, to see where the mix up is.”
“No,” she blurted, stopping in her physical struggle against me. Her eyes opened even wider, if that was possible, and her face was suddenly full of something I couldn’t read. Her blue eyes brightened in a frightening sort of way. Was that fear? Good, she should be afraid.
“Please. I swear. I’m allowed to be here. You don’t need to call Isa.” 
She had me. I didn’t really know who Isa was, and the girl sounded confident enough that I let her call my bluff.
“If there is a mistake, and you were scheduled to stay as well, I won’t complain. As a matter of fact, I won’t even be in your way. You won’t even know I’m here. I plan to keep to myself.”  Her eyes were glassy, and again I worried she was about to cry.
I released her arm and she pulled it back quickly. She fisted the hand of that arm, holding it against her chest. She began rubbing her upper arm with the opposite hand. I noticed again that she was thin, as were her breasts. I didn’t care for small chested girls. I didn’t care for her.
“Well, I’m Tristan, whom you claim to not know, and you are?”
“Ireland what?”
I shook my head.
“So this is how we’re going to play it? Fine, my Irish Isle. What are you doing in the Caymans?”
She looked at me for a moment, then leaned toward me and sniffed. She held the disgusted expression on her face and wrinkled her nose as she pulled back.
“Probably the same thing as you.”
“Drinking myself into oblivion?” I laughed, crossing my arms over my bare chest defensively.
“Hiding,” she replied.

Author Bio

L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.


I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?

As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.

I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.

So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.

I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.

L.B. Dunbar

Author Links

Oblivian, A Medicine Man Novel by Joshua Ryan Ogg

Friday, July 24, 2015

Deceive, An Estilorian Novel by Author Raine Thomas

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When the elders imprisoned Metis, they took every precaution to protect the Estilorian plane against her evil.

It wasn’t enough.

Now she’s escaped, and no one is safe. Fueled by hatred, she wastes no time imposing vengeance on those who captured her. She knows the surest way to destroy their lives is by taking what they love most, and she begins with a child named Eden.

Years later, Eden remembers none of her former life. She serves her “Master,” unaware of the family still searching for her. But as her eighteenth birthday approaches, memories begin to surface, and she questions her circumstances for the first time.

Eden’s confusion mounts when she’s joined by Connor, a handsome Elphresti male who reveals things that shatter her reality. They’ll end up on the run, knowing they can trust only each other. After all, Metis will stop at nothing to get them back, and she thrives on her ability to deceive.

My Review:

This story in The Estilorian Series, held me from the beginning. It is, in my opinion, the best of the series as well. Emotions all over the place, well developed characters, and a story line that kept me turning the pages is just part of how I felt while reading this. As much as I loved the entire Estilorian Series, this was my absolute favorite of them.  A story well worth reading!

About the Author:

Raine Thomas is the award-winning author of bestselling Young Adult and New Adult fiction. Known for character-driven stories that inspire the imagination, Raine recently signed with multiple award-winning producer Chase Chenowith of Back Fence Productions to bring her popular Daughters of Saraqael trilogy to the big screen. She’s a proud indie author who is living the dream.

Raine is a hopeless romantic with a background in the fields of mental health and wedding planning…two areas that intersect far more than one would think. Her years working with children and young adults with emotional and behavioral challenges inspired her to create protagonists who overcome their own conflicts. When she isn’t writing or glued to e-mail or social networking sites, Raine can usually be found vacationing with her husband and daughter on one of Florida’s beautiful beaches or crossing the border to visit with her Canadian friends and relatives.

Find Raine's stories here;

Monday, July 20, 2015

Turn of the Moon Cover Reveal by L.P. Dover

Title: Turn of the Moon
Author: L.P. Dover
Series: Royal Shifters series
Genre: Paranormal Romantic Suspense
Release date: 8/24 for iBooks, 8/25 all other retailers
Cover designer: Sara Eirew

One girl. Two wolves. Promised to one. Destined for the other.

To escape the cruel, overbearing, Kade, the Yukon Pack alpha she’s been promised to, Bailey Whitehill flees her home in search of a new life, one of freedom where she can make her own choices. However, Kade will stop at nothing to make her his and begins the hunt.

As Bailey starts her new life, everything she’s known to be true, is not. Time is of the essence and choices have to be made or consequences suffered. Not only does Bailey fear Kade, but another danger lurks deep in the recesses of the forest. Unbeknownst to her, that danger is what she’s been searching for all along. At the turn of the moon, her fate hangs in the balance . . . and it’s up to her to make the right choice.

There was a time when I lived for the pack, when I would do anything to save my people. The white wolves were slowly reducing in number, and now everyone was desperate, struggling to make ends meet before we were wiped into extinction. I was twenty-four years old, and a daughter of the Northern pack alpha. It was my duty to continue my lineage. The only problem was, there were no other unmated alphas around other than my best friend, Sebastian, and the supreme douche, Kade Whitemore.

There was no way in hell I was going to alliance myself with that rat bastard. He was alpha of the Yukon pack, violent, and an overbearing ass who’d rather see me on my back with my legs spread open than being his equal. I’d rather die than be forced to be his mate for all eternity. Why couldn’t I mate with Sebastian? Thinking of fucking him gave me the willies, but anything was better than Kade.

Anger racked my body and I sat there, seething . . . until I felt him. He was coming for me; I could sense him drawing near. The closer we got to the meadow, the more I could smell Kade and his excitement—his lust. Hopefully, he could smell the rage and disgust coming from me.

NYT and USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover, is a southern belle residing in North Carolina along with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she even began her literary journey she worked in Periodontics enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries. Not only does she love to write, but she loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes, white water rafting, and you can’t forget the passion for singing. Her two number one fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime and those songs usually consist of Christmas carols. Aside from being a wife and mother, L.P. Dover has written over nine novels including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, and her standalone novel, Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read is romantic suspense and she also loves writing it. However, if she had to choose a setting to live in it would have to be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.


Thursday, July 16, 2015

The Quest For Perkins Vale (Legendary Rockstars #3) by L.B. Dunbar

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Title: The Quest For Perkins Vale (Legendary Rockstars #3)
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: June 22, 2015



I’m not sure I know what to think of the girl I’ve searched for since I was thirteen; she isn’t exactly how I remembered her. I’m twenty-five, a guy and a virgin. Yep, you read that right; I’m still a virgin. Why you ask? Because I met the woman of my dreams when she was still a girl and I’ve been searching for her ever since we met. I’ve saved myself for her, as I believe she saved herself for me. Why again? Because I will love her, like she will love me, when we finally meet, again. I’d like to think it was that simple, but I don’t really know if she will love me. I only hope she will. If she doesn’t, she won’t be the right girl for me, because like I said, I’ve been saving myself for the woman of my dreams. I just don’t know where she is…but I won’t stop searching until I find her. That is my mission. My quest.

Chapter 1:

The night of the concert…

Arturo King and I rode side by side. The Ducati Monster 1200 screamed under me while Arturo steered Lansing’s red Streetfigher 848. We raced through the dark night down the short, dimly lit avenue outside The Round Table, taking a quick left in unison to be joined by two other bikes. At first, I thought it was Mel Agent or someone who worked for Mel. Not putting it past the asshole, as he had already tried to kidnap Guinevere DeGrance, Arturo’s fiancĂ©e, almost a month ago. The adrenaline rushed through my body, vibrating with anger. Mel had slipped a date rape drug into Guinie’s drink and hiked her back to his apartment, in hopes of taking advantage of her.

Firmly pulling down on the throttle, I sensed Mel’s intentions were the same again tonight toward her: the girl on the back of my bike. The girl with her small hands gripping the back of my t-shirt under my leather jacket, refusing to wrap her arms around me, despite the fact her legs were hugging my thick thighs from behind. I would have felt safer for her if she had a better hold on me, securing her arms around me, but it was bad enough I forced her out of The Round Table with me.

Glancing at Arturo to my right, he signaled with his head to turn ahead. We took the next corner quickly, but the bikes behind us kept an even pace. They were close, but not too close. Yet. Arturo King was one of my best friends. He’d befriended me when few others did in those woods around Lake Avalon. He’d been the one to offer me a place in the band. He was the one who never laughed at my awkwardness. He seemed to understand who I was and who I wanted to be. I was indebted to the lead singer and songwriter of our band, The Nights, for many things. Now, I owed him one more.

He’d helped me get away, with the girl.

We cornered a turn again at the third left; not bothering to downshift to slow, and immediately sped through the alley. Arturo hit the throttle, making the engine of Lansing’s bike scream down the narrow space, clipping a trashcan to spill behind us, knowing that the two bikes were truly following us. The sound of a racing engine and the crash of tin cans on cement made a ruckus in the otherwise quiet area. I sensed Arturo’s plan to outrun our followers, and I kept a steady pace next to my partner. We barely downshifted as we reached the first crossroad off the alley, zipping across the, thankfully, abandoned street, with little more than a glance left or right. The girl finally slid her hands around my abs. For a brief second, I thought her hands might have lingered as they slipped around me, feeling the hardness of my stomach. Her palms were flat for a moment, and then she gripped my dark t-shirt in her small fists again as we bumped out into another cross street.

They’re after me,” she yelled over the roar of the fierce engine.

I couldn’t be positive she was right, but I didn’t doubt it either. If these were Mel’s men, they wouldn’t stop until they got what Mel wanted. If he wanted the girl, he would do anything to get her.

Drop me off,” she yelled.

Fuck no. I wouldn’t lose her again.

In a last minute decision, we turned again with Arturo twisting his neck to look behind us as we raced toward the thoroughfare near Central Park. Giving a quick nod to me, I looked over my shoulder, as well, to see the first biker skitter into the street before correcting himself. We took one more turn and I was convinced we might lose our pursuers. We hit the larger boulevard and collectively cranked our respective throttles, speeding over eighty miles per hour through the steady crowded New York City streets. Within seconds, I heard the sound of the approaching motorcycles.

They’re gaining on us,” the girl yelled into my ear.

I glance d at Arturo again, who nodded his head for us to separate. I barely noticed that Arturo slowed slightly as if allowing me time to speed ahead and save the girl.

Continuing through the late night traffic, I downshifted to a more legal speed, as I noticed the other motorcycles followed Arturo. They hadn’t wanted the girl, after all, and were probably paparazzi of some type. Arturo King was good at dodging them, so I had faith in my fellow bandmate that he’d outrun the guys chasing behind. I turned the Ducati off the boulevard around Central Park, moments after our separation from Arturo, and headed toward a less reputable part of the city. The girl behind me had grown quiet after we separated from Arturo. If it weren’t for the solidness of her pressed against my back, I might have thought I was alone.

I sped the large bike down a side street that had the street sign stolen by some kids a week or two ago. On the right were several two-story buildings that housed some type of daytime business; the left side was an expanse of several low buildings, once warehouses, along the river’s dwindling bank. I didn’t bother to know what the business across the street from my building did during the day. Something that required people from nine to five was all I knew. But on my side of the street, one warehouse had been converted into a pet shelter. The other building was vacant. Then, there was my building in between.

          I punched in a code to open the service-garage-looking door, with blackened windows, and rode the Ducati into the large industrial space. It was a statement of automotive art inside this garage. Pristine motorcycle parts dangled from the ceiling near a large black Cadillac SUV. A second Ducati Streetfighter, similar to the one Arturo rode that belonged to Lansing Lotte, was parked next to the shiny vehicle. A classic 1950 motorcycle, named The Black Shadow that belonged to my long ago mentor, was the pivotal statement to my love of bikes. This wasn’t an automotive shop or a bike garage; this was the place of honor to house my collection.

I pulled the Ducati Monster next to the red Streetfighter and cut the engine. I paused for a moment as the girl still sat astride behind me. Thinking I needed to help her off the bike before I could swing my large leg over the seat, I twisted slightly to look at her over my shoulder. Her head was moving slowly from side to side, taking in the space around her before her eyes met mine, or what I thought were her eyes meeting mine, as she still had on the helmet.

I live in the back,” I offered, to assure her that we weren’t staying in a cold garage for the night.

Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she snipped, then slid her leg over the seat to stand to the side of the bike. Removing the helmet I’d given her to protect her, midnight black hair tumbled out of its confinement and cascaded over her shoulders. She wore an oversized army issue jacket, which I sensed was two sizes too big for her. Her shapely legs were covered by the length of the coat to her knees, but tight black leggings peeked out underneath. Those legs were strong, despite her average height, and matched my firm thighs as she sat behind me on the bike, clenching occasionally as we flew through the city streets. Black female combat boots that were meant to be stylish were scuffed and worn on her feet.

          My eyes travelled back up to her face, and steel gray eyes looked into my dark brown ones. Nervously, I ran a hand over my nearly shaved head, feeling the soothing sensation of the short-cropped hair. Thinking of her comment, I didn’t respond as I swung my own leg off the bike and pointed in a direction for her to walk. I strolled behind her then reached around her to enter another code and open the solid security door to my living space.

I played the drums and they were the first things she could see as we entered my large open room. They were the focal point of my life. I’d purchased the warehouse because I couldn’t live anywhere else and practice at my will. An apartment had neighbors too close. A neighborhood wasn’t my thing. I could have built a house further outside the city, but I didn’t want to. I’d grown up in seclusion. I didn’t want to be alone again. The irony was I was alone in my warehouse home.

The drum set was the centerpiece to a room furnished with an oversized couch facing the kit and a large screen television on the wall behind the set. A workout bench, with weights, was slightly hidden behind the dark couch. Two large darkened windows were the only hint to outside. My kitchen was open to this living space with a large island being the only thing separating the two areas. There was no table for dining, but stools stood around two sides of the island. There was only one bedroom off the kitchen, which held a king-size bed and a tall dresser. I lived simply, sparsely, as if I could pack up and move in a matter of hours. But it was more than that. I didn’t need much. I liked life simple, compared to my upbringing. It was a strange combination of what I had and didn’t have.

The bathroom’s over there.” I pointed toward a door that had a window of etched glass on the upper half. “If you want to clean up.”

She stood in my living area, still holding the motorcycle helmet against her middle as if a shield, protecting her from me. I knew I frightened her, despite her sharp tongue. My size alone was a lot to take in. I’d lost the baby fat I had as a young adolescent when I eventually went to high school. The taunting words of other children were cruel to a boy too large at a young age, and their insults inspired me to lose weight. Tristan Lyons, the fourth and final member of the band, was also a positive force in motivating me to work out daily. Tristan had the face of a male model and a body to match. He got girls instinctively, while I didn’t understand women at all. My experience with them was severely limited, despite the notoriety of my fellow band members. I had a reputation, though. One I didn’t think I quite deserved.

So that’s it? I should freshen up, before…” She waved her delicate hand to motion between the two of us.

I was taken aback at her meaning for a moment until realization hit me, my face giving away my own embarrassment.

You think I brought you here to…” I trailed off like she had, copying her hand gesture between us.

She nodded in response.

Uhm. No,” I added after my face relaxed, and one side of my lips curled up in a crooked smile.

She was thoughtful for a moment, squinting those powerful gray eyes at me, before she replied,

Why not?”

Again I was shocked. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with her in that way. Hell, I’d been dreaming of her for years, almost thirteen to be exact. But tonight wasn’t the night for that fantasy to play out.

Would you like something to eat? Drink?” I asked, shifting the awkward conversation as I brushed passed her to the kitchen area and opened the industrial fridge door. I didn’t have much as I lived alone: a few beers, a couple bottles of water, a sports drink, and some orange juice.

You’re offering me something to drink?” Her voice displayed her sheer puzzlement at my question.

Agreeing to take a water, I reached for two, unscrewing the cap on hers before handing the cool bottle to her. Her fingers brushed mine when she yanked the bottle from me, rather forcefully. My eyes jumped to her face, which showed no reaction to our physical contact. I, on the other hand, felt an electric spark travel directly to a body part I couldn’t control. I remembered the sensation from being around her before. It was an instantaneous response to her aggressive stance.

So…what’s going on here?” she said, looking around the sparsely furnished room again.

I live here…and you’re staying here tonight. To be safe.”

Safe?!” she choked loudly on the word. “You just kidnapped me.”

I…I did not,” I stammered, taking in the disgusted look on her face. Had I kidnapped her? Taken her against her will?

I stood there recalling quickly what had transpired in the bar before I had her on the back of the bike.

My Review
In book 3 of The Legendary Rock Star Series, Author L.B. Dunbar has once again created a very interesting story. Please be aware that there are spoilers in this review.

****************Spoiler Alert Here*************************
Perkins Vale is saving himself for the woman he believes he is destined to spend his life with. Although he has had sexual encounters, he has never had sex before. He hopes that his destined woman will also be a virgin. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen.

His woman, who Perkins met years earlier, finally comes up on his radar as an adult. Coaxing her away from someone who was only interested in her body, Perkins gets her to hop on to his Ducati and he races through the streets to finally arrive at his home in a warehouse district.

Hollister doesn't trust anyone. She has been forced to do things that has made her jaded and mis-trusting of all men. It takes Perkins a bit to realize what has happened to her and makes up his mind to never let her out of his sight again. To protect her at all costs. Thus starts a relationship that will take this couple on an odyssey of emotions.

*************** End of Spoiler Alert********************

This story is very well written, excellent character development, and will have the reader running the gambit of emotions. I loved this story as well as the first 2 books in this series, The Legend of Arturo King and The Story of Lansing Lotte. For me, this is a 5 star rating!

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tqfpv cover

The Quest of Perkins Vale © L.B. Dunbar

Perk walked to his bed and sat with a plop on the edge. It was going to be smaller than the king size bed in his home in the city, but if I thought about it, we slept close to each other every night when we were together. The smaller mattress would make no difference. “It seems that everywhere I turn, someone knew you. Someone knew where you were. I’ve been searching for you for twelve years, and I was the only one who didn’t know where you were, while everyone else did.”

“Twelve years?” I asked, as I came to sit next to him. He rubbed a hand down his face and told me about a rainy night long ago in a decrypted home. He claimed he saw me, with Elaine and Elliott, at the side of my sick uncle’s bed. It seemed a mystery to me that the same man who found me in the tent, had been the boy I scolded outside my uncle’s manor house. It seemed a bit like destiny that he kept finding me, although I didn’t remember him as clearly. He was a boy at a confusing time. He was a teenager at a time of dismay. Now, he was a man. When his tale was complete, he looked a bit exhausted as if the weight of years got heavier instead of lifting off his shoulders.

I was barely dressed as I left the bathroom in one of his large t-shirts. He undressed down to his boxers, which had become his custom and he covered us in his teenage bed. I had to giggle as I snuggled up to face him. “How many girls did you have in this thing?” I laughed, a bit bitterly with hope that the number wasn’t large.  

“None,” he said immediately.

“Come on. No high school crush? Summer love? Stolen night or afternoon while your mother was away?”  

“No one ever. In this bed.” His words stunned me. Visions of Perk in hallways with women pinned to the wall and barrooms with girls on his lap filled my mind. “Other beds, huh?” I questioned in disbelief. I’d seen his room the first night I stayed. It was obvious someone had slept there with him.  

“No girl. No bed. Ever,” he repeated, staring up at the ceiling. He had one hand braced behind his head and the other lay between us, which wasn’t our customary position.

I lay on my side, watching his body grow rigid with each part of my inquisition. “I saw your room that first night. You’d had a girl there. Maybe not to sleep over, but someone had been there.” Bitterness was fully in my mouth at this point, as I envisioned someone else sleeping with him in the same manner we slept.  

“No one in my bed. Before you,” he said, blowing out air. I could see his chest rising and falling exaggeratedly. If I didn’t know better, I thought he might be trying to calm himself as if he were about to explode at me.

“Perk, honest, it’s okay. I get it. You’re a rock star. Women have thrown themselves at you. It happens, right?” I wasn’t as convinced as I tried to sound, as if this was okay with me.

“Hollister, drop it. Please. There’s been no one else.”

“It’s fine, don’t tell me. I’m sure you’ve lost count,” I said snippily. 

Suddenly he turned to face me and the old mattress jiggled under his weight. “I’m only going to say this once; one more time. There’s never been another woman in my bed. There’s never been any woman in any other bed with me. There hasn’t been any one else.”

From the glow of the moonlight outside his unshaded window, I saw his chocolaty eyes sparkle. His face was firm as he emphasized each word.  

“Perkins, it’s okay…”  

“Hollister, drop it,” he interrupted.

“I don’t need to know. I’m just…”  

“I’m a virgin,” he blurted. The words hung in the darkened room.
About The Author

L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and the upcoming Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.
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