He’s someone she can’t trust…

She’s someone he thinks he knows…

Violet Wilson is a wallflower. Shy, serious, and accident-prone, she’s got a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The night she’s forced to pose with her friend might just be the worst time of all—that’s when she meets Jet Blevins. She knows better than to get involved with someone like him, but he touches her in ways she never expected, neverwanted before.

On the outside, Jet is a typical rocker, an arrogant lead guitarist who unapologetically lives a wild lifestyle. But on the inside, he’s battling demons and using the stage to escape the troubles of his past and the addictions of his present. Until the night he sees Violet standing at the back of the room. She brings his life into focus. She knows his secrets. She’s the girl he can’t forget, and the one thing he craves more than his addiction.

But can they ever hope to have a future when their very foundation is nothing but lies?

I lick my lips before I raise my eyes to his. Part of me knows I should turn and run, foregoing common courtesies and niceties. Something in me, some deep and rarely used instinct that lives within, knows that once I meet those eyes, I’ll be forever lost. It makes no sense, but I know it like I know my name and my eye color and the way my hair flips out on the ends when it’s rainy outside.

Despite my better judgment, I do it. I look up and up and up until I reach a blue so fathomless I feel like I could dive into and never reach the bottom. Like I could drown and never even know it.

But I can’t do that. I can’t dive in. Not with a guy like this. I’ve seen what someone like this can do to a person—turn that which was once whole and capable into nothing more than scattered pieces of wreckage and ruin.

“I’m Jet,” he offers softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Jet. Even his name is sexy, which makes me more uncomfortable.

Ridiculous! my rational, level-headed, slightly bitter side scoffs. It pipes up with its less bedazzled perspective, reminding me that guys like this are nothing more than predators. The love ’em and leave ’em type. And he’s obviously worse than most, as evidenced by his attendance here. Apparently, he’s got a real problem.

I give him a tight smile as I straighten away from him. “Violet. Nice to meet you,” I say, hurrying to continue. “Excuse me please.”

I slip on my familiar, no-nonsense persona like a protective shield, like the armor that has kept me from harm all these years. It has never failed me before; I don’t expect it to now.

My head is high, my spine is rigid, and my imperviousness is firmly in place as I move past the dark and damaged stranger. With every step I take, I determine to put him out of my mind and never think of him again.

Until he speaks once more. His words make dents in my breastplate like armor-piercing rounds.

“It’s short,” he calls from a few steps behind me.

Confused, I turn.

Knowing I shouldn’t, still I turn.

“Pardon?”

“My name. It’s short.”

“Short for what?”

I watch as he moves toward me, narrowing the space I only just created. He stops within inches and bends slightly forward, one side of his mouth pulling up into a self-deprecating grin. “Jethro.”

And, just like that, he’s human. And vulnerable. And slightly imperfect. And even more dangerous to me than he was before.

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, M. Leighton, is a native of Ohio. She relocated to the warmer climates of the South, where she can be near the water all summer and miss the snow all winter. Possessed of an overactive imagination from early in her childhood, Michelle finally found an acceptable outlet for her fantastical visions: literary fiction. Having written over a dozen novels, these days Michelle enjoys letting her mind wander to more romantic settings with sexy Southern guys, much like the one she married and the ones you’ll find in her latest books. When her thoughts aren’t roaming in that direction, she’ll be riding wild horses, skiing the slopes of Aspen or scuba diving with a hot rock star, all without leaving the cozy comfort of her office.

Michelle loves to hear from readers! You can find her (and she will chat your ear off) here:

Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads • Amazon Page

He’s someone she can’t trust…

She’s someone he thinks he knows…

Violet Wilson is a wallflower. Shy, serious, and accident-prone, she’s got a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The night she’s forced to pose with her friend might just be the worst time of all—that’s when she meets Jet Blevins. She knows better than to get involved with someone like him, but he touches her in ways she never expected, neverwanted before.

On the outside, Jet is a typical rocker, an arrogant lead guitarist who unapologetically lives a wild lifestyle. But on the inside, he’s battling demons and using the stage to escape the troubles of his past and the addictions of his present. Until the night he sees Violet standing at the back of the room. She brings his life into focus. She knows his secrets. She’s the girl he can’t forget, and the one thing he craves more than his addiction.

But can they ever hope to have a future when their very foundation is nothing but lies?

Jet

“What was all that?”

“What was what?”

“All that posturing down there? Is that why you brought me? To have your own groupie?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“All the special attention, all the sweet touching and singing to me like that. I’ve never felt more used.”

“I wasn’t using you, Violet.”

“Then what were you doing? You’ve never acted like that before.”

“I didn’t realize it would bother you.”

“It bothers me because you did it as part of your show.”

“Trust me. That had absolutely nothing to do with my show.”

“Of course it did! Why else would you act like that?”

Thoughts of the way Rand was looking at her, of the ways I know he was thinking of touching her, gets my anger fired back up again. I turn toward Violet, stepping in closer, my face inches from hers. “You wanna know why? I’ll tell you why. It had nothing to do with me putting on a show. It had everything to do with that slimy asshole hitting on you. It was pissing me off.”

“What? Because some random guy was flirting with me? That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it? Is it ridiculous that I hated the way he talked to you? Is it ridiculous that it made me want to rip out his eyes out every time he looked at you? Is it ridiculous that I wanted to kill him when you smiled at him?”

Violet shrinks back, away from my anger. “Jet, I’m sure that was just part of the way he does business.”

“The hell it was! He wanted you, and it was eating me up inside. That is why I was touching you. I wanted him to know that you are mine.”

Violet’s voice is soft. “But I’m not yours.”

I take a few long, deep, ragged breaths. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be.”

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, M. Leighton, is a native of Ohio. She relocated to the warmer climates of the South, where she can be near the water all summer and miss the snow all winter. Possessed of an overactive imagination from early in her childhood, Michelle finally found an acceptable outlet for her fantastical visions: literary fiction. Having written over a dozen novels, these days Michelle enjoys letting her mind wander to more romantic settings with sexy Southern guys, much like the one she married and the ones you’ll find in her latest books. When her thoughts aren’t roaming in that direction, she’ll be riding wild horses, skiing the slopes of Aspen or scuba diving with a hot rock star, all without leaving the cozy comfort of her office.

Michelle loves to hear from readers! You can find her (and she will chat your ear off) here:

Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads • Amazon Page