Stricken Unveiled (Stricken Rock #2)

Book Two

S.K Logsdon

Copyright © 2013 by S.K Logsdon

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic
or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any
information storage and retrieval system, without written
permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief
quotations in a review.

Editor: Heather Sowalla, Windy Hills Editing

Cover art by: Marika Kraukle

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Visit my Author Pages

You can find me on Facebook at:
https://www.facebook.com/sklogsdon

My website:
http://sklogsdon.weebly.com

And

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/sklogsdon

I wanted to give a special shout out to authors
Samantha Towle and Michelle A. Valentine. Who inspired me to write
this series.

And thank my friend Goldie who has been full of
inspiration and encouragement throughout my writing endeavors.

If it wasn’t for her “The Raunchier the better”
theory I might not have written these stories as colorful as they
have become.

I also want to give an Extra shout out to my fans for
enjoying this series and hope they love this as much as the
first

This book is a work of fiction created by the author
S.K Logsdon and is not associated with any real band, lives or
stories.

Stricken Desire
- Book One - Stricken Rock
Series

Of Delicate Mind
– Book One - The Circle of
blood series

Stricken Trust –
Book Three- Stricken Rock
Series

Artful Attractions -
Book One - Attraction
Series

You can find me on Facebook at:
https://www.facebook.com/sklogsdon

My website:
http://sklogsdon.weebly.com

And

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/sklogsdon

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Stricken Trust Sample

Today is September Friday the thirteenth and
I’m exactly one day out from entering my second trimester. Stacy
and I are also on our way to my first baby doctor’s appointment
here in LA. The past six weeks have been crazy. A high-flying
ninety mile an hour roller coaster ride with no stops, breaks or
detours. After Stacy and I said our goodbyes to Johnathan at the
rehab clinic. Or what I like to call it; a five-star resort with
doctors and a twenty four hour suicide watch. We’ve been running
full throttle since.

Two days after we were back in LA and I got a
couple good night’s rest. I put in a call to Joe my roommate in New
York to inform him I was backing out of our lease and moving to LA
permanently. After a three-hour conversation with Stacy on the ins
and outs of what is going to happen with my career and my personal
life and the two twins that have taken up residency in my womb for
the next twenty eight weeks or less. We’ve both come to the
conclusion that LA is the best place for me and surprisingly enough
my mom is thrilled and excited to visit soon. She’s never flown
before so that’ll be a first for her.

I hired an expensive yet efficient packing
crew to box up my apartment in New York and ship my personal
belongings out to me. I couldn’t fit the time in my schedule to fly
to New York to pack and move, take care of the Johnathan business,
help Stacy run a company and clean up the tour mess. All on top of
being pregnant which means, I want to basically eat all the time,
pee constantly, sleep ten hours a day or more and masturbate like
my life depended on it. I’ve literally had to invest in a B.O.B for
the first time in my life, he’s petite and pink and ribbed for my
pleasure. Plus in the past six weeks I’ve had to replace his
batteries twice. If that gives you any indication on how insatiable
being knocked up makes you. Or at least me that is.

Stacy god love him has been supportive
through it all. He even made this appointment with the best female
obstetrician in Malibu, Dr. Golds. After the huge mishaps with Dr.
Shells back home, you know the whole I have a five-percent chance
of pregnancy thing. I figured googling my new doctor would probably
be the best choice. She comes highly recommended and Stacy had to
pull a lot of strings to get me into see her. Of course without
breaking the news that the babies in my belly are the product of me
and a rock star by the name of Johnathan Striker. Who just so
happens to be the lead singer of Stricken, the hottest band around
and worth about three hundred and fifty million. Give or take a
few.

The little buns in my oven are now just about
the size of a passion fruit each. And I am already starting to gain
weight and resort to baggy clothes. Not that my belly is huge but
you can tell that I’m either gaining too much weight in my belly
region or I’m having a child or two. Mine just happens to be the
latter and my jeans only fit if they are super low or I leave them
unbuttoned, which is some backwoods hillbilly bullshit. So me and
yoga pants have become acquainted rather well the past few weeks.
Until I finally break down and go to Motherhood or some other
maternity dress shop to pick out pants with panels and shirts that
will make me look like a hot air balloon. I’ve resorted to dresses
and yoga pants and only one pair of jeans that I don’t feel like
I’m squishing my babies in.

I’ve also taken up residency for the time
being in one of Stacy’s guest bedrooms. He lives in a cute house.
Nothing over the top or fancy. It’s a modern single story with
three beds, two baths; a one-car garage and a fabulous eat in
kitchen with all the latest and greatest gadgets. It’s like my own
personal kind of heaven, when I get to use all the shiny stainless
steel appliances and trash compactor. His range is separate from
his double oven and the temperatures are right on the money. I’ve
insisted I pay some rent but he refuses to take my cash so I just
pitch in with the essentials and cook for him a lot. I want to get
my own apartment but with my salary at what it is I can’t afford
much in LA unless I want to be slumming it. Which I don’t. So until
I find another job or get a promotion, which I don’t see happening
anytime soon, I’m stuck bunking with the best man in my life. My
bestie Stacy. Who I am sure would love to keep me living with him
for the next thirty years. Or so he’s told me on an occasion or two
or ten or twenty. I can’t be sure which.

I’m sitting next to Stacy in his SUV and
we’re about fifteen minutes out from my docs. Or that’s what his
built in GPS keeps reiterating, making me want to stab it with a
knife to keep its damn trap shut. Stace drives a black Range Rover
and since I’ve been in New York for so long I don’t have a car
except for the Suburban back home and that thing would never pass a
smog check. In order to register and drive any vehicle in the state
of California it has to pass a smog test, it doesn’t cost much but
if your car or truck doesn’t pass you’re up shit creek without a
paddle my friend.

To be honest I don’t know what I would do
without this man. Between my new life changes like moving, babies
and whatnot, he’s been so supportive and loving and I feel truly
blessed to have him in my life. We’ve spent countless hours hashing
over workloads of crap together with the rest of the Magic Records
team who only consists of six other individuals not including
Johnathan who owns the damn label.

Jasmine, whom I’ve come to hate, does the
financials and records and she’s a snooty blonde bitch who’s in her
early thirties. But thinks because she happens to work for
Johnathan and what I’ve gathered fucked him a few times, she has
this holier-than-thou persona. And whenever I talk to her or see
her I want to smack her around a bit and tell her to wake the fuck
up and smell the goddamn coffee. But I don’t, I bite my tongue and
I force Stacy to deal with her because I’d rather gouge my eyes out
then hear her talk for more than five minutes at a time. Then we
have Rita a short little Spanish woman who does scouting and works
the sound booths, mixes music and a whole lot more. She’s talented
and a true asset to Johnathan’s record label. Plus I like her.
She’s not my favorite person but she’s sweet and sassy kind of like
me. Except she’s forty, sleeved in tattoos, has more piercings than
I care to count and three beautiful kids all grown and out of the
house, or nearly out I should say. Her youngest is sixteen.

Since Johnathan’s been in rehab we’ve
extended his stay an extra two weeks and he’ll be out on Monday and
we have our first gig on the last part of this tour on Wednesday
next week in San Fran and on that next Saturday we’ll be in
Bakersfield, then LA and down to San Diego for the final show.
Stacy booked it that way because the final gig is taking place in
Coronado on the beach. There’s enough space to hold thirty thousand
fans and ten thousand of them are all military members Navy and
Marines alike who we’ve donated tickets to. A tribute to the
service they provide for our country. I thought the sentiment was
fantastic. I’m so glad I thought of it four weeks ago.

Originally we were going to be playing in the
Charger Stadium down in San Diego but after a long talk with Stacy
and a bunch of finagling on my part with the zoning laws. We got
the go ahead and proper permits to throw a huge bash on the sands
in So-cal. There are fifteen different high profile venders that
are coming to cater the event to provide beer, wine, food and
souvenirs thanks to Claire’s masterful skills. My thought is if
you’re going to go out, you might as well go out with a bang. This
is going to be the hottest fucking bash San Diego’s ever seen.
Ending with a fantastic fireworks display over the ocean. We’ve had
to hire four hundred security guards and a bunch of barricades,
port-a-pots and other things you’d never have to purchase if you
used a venue. But we can write it all off tax wise because most of
the money earned for this show is being put back into it, so we can
put on the best show ever for the men and women in uniform.
Something near and dear to my bodyguard James’s heart, being a
former marine himself.