Three years ago, Shannon was a wild child. Parties, boys. You name it, she did it. But she's changed and the only way to truly turn things around is to finish college and hop on a plane to…anywhere else. Until an unexpected encounter throws her off track.
Sheila’s been covering for her big sister for as long as she can remember. Now it’s her turn. But her rebellious plans don’t include small-town fun. She’s got her eye on something better—a group of budding rock stars and a summer-long tour.
Because of Luke is a bittersweet New Adult romance that begins in the Summer of 1991.
This book contains profanity, alcohol and drug use, and explicit sex scenes. It is intended for individuals 18+.
“Hey.” She tilts my head up to look at her, but the blue eyes aren’t helping. They’re only reminding me of what I left behind. “Hey,” she says a little louder this time. “You can do this. Remember what I told you back at that show in Lewiston?”
Now she wants me to recall days gone by? I can’t even remember my fucking middle name.
“You’re the talent,” she says with as much conviction as if she was telling me that boys have penises and girls have vaginas.
And as if that’s exactly what she’d just said, I laugh.
She frowns in response. “I’m serious. You’re a genius on that thing.” She nods toward my guitar. “Roscoe’s got a great voice, Dash and Ryan tear it up on the drums and keyboard, but you? With the bass and the voice? You’re,” she drops her voice to a whisper. “One day you’re going to be what they come to see. You’re amazing, Luke. Don’t forget it.”
She stands up, offering me a hand. For whatever reason, her pep talk seems to have worked. My breathing is back to normal and I can feel my fingers again. I take her hand, rising to my feet, but don’t say anything.
“What are you guys singing tonight?” she asks, even though I’m sure she already knows.
“The first song we wrote,” I reply. “Ross and I.”
“In Peace, right?” She grins and I can’t help but smile back. “That’s a good one.”
I nod. It is. If it weren’t for that song, performing it that night at Chagrin’s, we might not even be here. We wouldn’t be.
“Alright,” she says, still gripping my hand. “Five minutes. You got this?”
Five minutes. I nod. Shit. I’m starting to freak out again.
Sheila must sense this, because before my legs can give out on me or my hands can start shaking again, she’s up on her tiptoes pulling me toward her. When her lips cover mine, everything stops. My thoughts, my fears, my mini-freak out halts in place and all I can think about or feel is her soft mouth on mine. There’s no tongue at first. She just presses herself to me so hard I can’t help but give in. Then I start kissing her back. Not because I’m turned on or feel anything toward her at all, but because for whatever reason, it makes me feel like I’m in control of something again. Even though she’s the one doing all the work.
Her hands cup around the back of my neck, they move through my hair, grazing my scalp. Her tongue pries its way past my teeth to stroke my own and I welcome it. Before I know it, we’re full on making out, everything that clouded my mind before not even a memory.
It isn’t until I hear Roscoe yell, “thirty seconds!” that she pulls away and wipes her lips with the back of her hand.
“Better?” she asks.
“As I’ll ever be.”