Fever (24 page)
It’s always such a pleasure to work on a novel and part of that pleasure comes from working with amazing people.
Thank you so much to:
My critique partners: Cassie & Anna. Your feedback was brilliant. Thank you for making this story stronger.
My editor: Laurie. You are so brilliant to work with. I love your advice and knowledge. Thank you for making my writing better.
My proofreaders: Kristin, Suzy, Karen, Marcia and Lindsey. What would I do without your last-minute catches? Thanks so much, ladies. Your help and enthusiasm means so much to me.
My cover designer: Regina. You are one talented woman and working with you has been such a thrill. Thank you for taking on this project.
My promo designer: Kate. Thank you for your unwavering support and your willingness to drop everything to help me. You are so talented and I love the stuff I always find in my inbox from you.
My publicity team: Mark My Words Publicity. Thank you!!!! You girls are so spectacular. I love working with you. Thank you for helping me launch this book into the world.
My fellow writers: Inklings and Indie Inked. Thank you for always being there to listen and help me. Thank you for sharing your ideas and your own experiences. It’s a total honor to be part of your writing journeys.
My readers: As always, thank you. I appreciate you guys so much. Thank you for giving my work a chance. You are turning my dreams into reality.
My friends: A special mention to Nadine and Sharyn…my singing buddies. Thank you for all the laughter, good times and of course…the glorious music.
My family: Thank you to my supportive group of cheerleaders who constantly encourage me to keep pushing, and keep striving to be the best author I can be.
My Prince Charming: Thank you for dancing me into the sunset. I love you.
My savior: Thank you for loving me in spite my faults and giving me the courage to step out of a bad relationship and then letting me meet the perfect man for me.
The Songbird Series
Fight For You (Due for release: Nov 2014)
The Fugitive Series
I Know Lucy
- Set Me Free
The Masks Series
True Colors
Two Faced (Releasing: 2014)
Snake Eyes (Releasing: 2014-2015)
Poker Face (Releasing: 2015)
The Time Spirit Trilogy
Golden Blood - Black Blood - Pure Blood
The Betwixt Series
Betwixt - Before - Beyond
The Elements Trilogy
Unknown - Unseen - Unleashed
The Mica & Lexy Series
Forbidden Territory
Find out more on Melissa Pearl's website:
Melissa Pearl is a kiwi at heart, but currently lives in Suzhou, China with her husband and two sons. She trained as an elementary school teacher, but has always had a passion for writing and finally completed her first manuscript in 2003. She has been writing ever since and the more she learns, the more she loves it.
She writes
young adult and new adult fiction in a variety of romance genres - paranormal, fantasy, suspense, and contemporary. Her goal as a writer is to give readers the pleasure of escaping their everyday lives for a while and losing themselves in a journey…one that will make them laugh, cry and swoon.
You can contact Melissa Pearl online:
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THE BEAUMONT SERIES by Heidi McLaughlin
If you’ve enjoyed Fever, you will probably enjoy The Beaumont Series by Heidi McLaughlin. These books are also wrapped around music and follow the lives of three band members. I have thoroughly enjoyed each of the books, so I thought I’d include a sample of the first book, Forever My Girl.
Forever My Girl
The Beaumont Series #1
By Heidi McLaughlin
CHAPTER 1
LIAM
A light snore reminds me that I’m not alone. The heaviness of a body sprawled out, sets me off immediately. The stale smell of day old perfume lingers in the air and on my sheets.
The curtains are pulled back, the sun shining through the large
window which affords me the best view and privacy.
Rolling over, there’s a face I don’t remember. A face that holds no name in my recollection or any vivid memory of how she ended up in my hotel room let alone my bed.
The bed part I can probably figure out.
The blonde hair tells me that I didn’t bother to get her name or ask her what her favorite drink was. Guaranteed our conversation was eyes, hands and lips only. There is one hair color that can make my heart beat and blonde isn’t it.
Neither is red.
Eyes too.
Never blue.
They have to be brown or green, never blue.
This isn’t a downward spiral or some drug induced moment. I don’t do drugs, never have, but I may drink excessively on occasions like last night. This is me coping with my mistakes and failures. I may be successful when I’m on stage, but at night I’m alone.
And so freaking scared of dying alone.
I reach for my phone to check the time. Instead I pull up the gallery that holds her image, my thumb hovering over her face. I’ll see her when I go home and I don’t know what I’ll say.
I know she hates me.
I hate me.
I ruined her life. That is what her voice message said. The one I’ve saved for the past ten years. The one I’ve transferred from phone to phone just so I could hear her voice when I’m at my lowest. I can recite every hateful word she said to me when I was too busy to answer and never found the time to call her back.
Never found one second to call and explain to her what I had done to us. She was my best friend and I let her slip through my fingers just to save myself from the heartache of hearing she didn’t want me anymore.
I had dreams too.
And my dreams included her, but she would never have gone for it. I’m not living her American Dream. I'm living my own.
My decision destroyed everything.
My nameless bed cohabitant reaches out and strokes my arm. I move away quickly. Now that I’m sober, I have no desire to be anything to this person.
“Liam,” she says through her seductive tone that sounds like a baby. It makes my skin crawl when women talk like this. Don’t they see that it makes them sound ridiculous? No man worth his nuts likes this sort of thing. It’s not sexy.
Wrapping the sheet around my waist I sit up and swing my legs over the edge, away from her and her wandering hand. My back tenses when I feel the bed shift. Standing, I pull the sheet tighter to keep myself somewhat covered. I shouldn’t care, but I do. She’s seen me in the dark, but I’m not affording her or her camera another look.
“I’m busy.” My voice is strict, a well-practiced monotone. “Jorge, the concierge, will make sure you get a cab home.”
I sleep purposefully facing the bathroom so I never have to look at them when I tell them to leave. It’s easier that way, no emotions. I don’t have to look at their faces and see the hope fade. Each one hopes they will be the one to tame me, to make me commit.
I haven’t had a steady girlfriend since I entered the industry and a
one night stand isn’t about to change that. These girls don’t mean anything and never will. I could change. I could settle down and marry.
Have a kid or two.
But why?
My manager, Sam, would love it, especially if it was
her. She’s my only repeat lay. The first time was an error in judgment, a lonely night on the road mistake. Now she wants more. I don’t.
When she told me she was pregnant I wanted to jump off a cliff. I didn’t want kids, at least not with her. When I think about having a wife, she’s tall and brunette. She’s toned from years of cheerleading and her daily five-mile run. She’s not a power hungry executive in the music industry who spoke of hiring nannies before a doctor could confirm her pregnancy.
She suggested marriage; I freaked and flew to Australia to learn to surf.
She miscarried two months in. I made a vow that we’d keep things professional from that point on and that is when I started my one
night stand routine. Despite everything, she still loves me, and is waiting for me to change my mind.
“You know,” the barfly from last night starts to say in between shuffling and her huffed breathing as she puts on her clothes. “I heard you were a dick, but I didn’t believe it. I thought we had something special.”
I laugh and shake my head. I’ve heard it all, each one thinks we have something special because of the most amazing night they’ve ever had.
“I didn’t pick you for your brains.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it for good measure.
Leaning against the door I bang my head against the solid wood. Each time I tell myself I’m going to stop, and I think I have until something makes me want to forget. My hands rake over my face in pure frustration.
I’m not looking forward to going home.
The reason for returning is staring at me from my bathroom counter. The page-long article of the guy I used to call my best friend. Picking up the paper, I read over the words that I have memorized.
Mason Powell, father of two, was killed tragically when the car he was driving was rear-ended by an
eighteen wheeler.
Dead.
Gone.
And I wasn’t there.
I left like a coward when I didn’t say goodbye.
I changed my cell phone number because
she
wouldn’t stop calling. I had to make a clean break and Mason was part of that.
She
and Katelyn were best friends and he’d tell her where I was and what I was doing. It was better this way.
I was only meant to be gone a year. I told myself I’d return home after twelve months, make everything right and show her that I wasn’t the same person she fell in love with. She’d see that and thank me, move on and marry a yuppie
business man, one who wakes up every day and puts on a crisp dress shirt and pleated slacks that she'd iron in their
Leave it to Beaver
household.
I squeeze the paper in my hands and think about everything I’ve missed. I don’t regret it, I can’t. I did this for me and did it the only way I knew how. I just didn’t think I’d care so much about missing everything.
I missed the day he asked Katelyn to marry him. Something I knew he wanted to do since we were sixteen.
I missed his wedding and the birth of his twins. He was a father and a husband. He had three people who depended on him and now he’s gone. He’ll never see his children grow up and do the things that we did when we were younger. All the things we said our kids would do together. I missed this because I had something to prove to myself. I gave up on their dream and the life we had all planned out.
And now I’m heading home to face the music.
FIND OUT MORE ABOUT HEIDI’S WORK ON HER WEBSITE: