ONE HIT WONDER (Rock Stars in Love #1.5)
December 5, 2012
"This is a really cute and sexy novella." ~ USA Today
"If you are looking for a smile and romance with heart, go read this story now." ~ Romance Novel News
A novella of 20,000 words. Only 99 cents!
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Read more: FAQs
Excerpt | Reviews | News
Jane Timmons has two weeks to . . .
1. Keep her distance from her sexy boss, the once famous pop singer, Damon Suarez.
2. Stay firm. No kissing allowed!
3. And not let Damon know she loves him.
Damon Suarez has two weeks to . . .
1. Convince Jane to not quit.
2. Stage a comeback and be more than a one hit wonder.
3. Win Jane's heart—no matter what it takes.
FAQs:
~ ONE HIT WONDER is a novella of 20,000 words and is set in the same world/universe as AS YOU WISH.
~ You don't have to read AS YOU WISH to read ONE HIT WONDER or vice versa. Both can be read as standalones. These stories are very, very loosely connectied--as in the only thread being that Damon and Aubry are famous singers/musicians and share a manager. And they're both hot.
Reviews:
"This is a really cute and sexy novella." ~ USA Today
"If you are looking for a smile and romance with heart, go read this story now." ~ Romance Novel News
"It's clever, funny, and of course very sexy!" ~ Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews
"The book was absolutely enchanting." ~ Contemporary Romance Reviews
"One Hit Wonder was breezy, fun to read..." ~ Sleepless Nights
"Heart-warming and steamy..." ~ What I'm Reading
"I loved this story!" ~ The Romance Dish
"a cute, sexy read." ~ Babbling about Books
"sweet and entertaining." ~ Romance Around the Corner
"I enjoyed the novella from start to finish . . . a fun, sexy story." Love to Read for Fun
"Cute and sexy novella. I'm looking forward to more from Elyssa Patrick." ~ Smexybooks
"Jane Timmons, I salute you." ~ Dear Author
"This is a cute novella with a super fun hero." ~ The Bookpushers
News:
12/6/12: ~ ONE HIT WONDER is #93 on Amazon Best Sellers in Romance Anthologies! Here's the link!
~ ONE HIT WONDER is now #60 on Amazon Best Sellers in Romance Anthologies!
12/8/12: ONE HIT WONDER is mentioned on Smexybooks' Weekly Wrap-Up.
12/10/12: ONE HIT WONDER is #19 on Amazon's Hot New Releases in Romance Anthologies! (And OHW is still holding strong at #70 on Amazon Best Sellers in Romance Anthologies!)
12/11/12: ONE HIT WONDER is #38 on Kindle Bestsellers in Romance Anthologies and #50 on Romance Bestsellers in Anthologies.
12/14/12: ONE HIT WONDER is a recommended read on USA Today! "This is a really cute and sexy novella."
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
IN RETROSPECT, SHE should have expected to find Damon Suarez in the hot tub—naked.
At least this time there wasn’t a group of bikini-clad women with him. Although, now that she thought about it, there hadn’t been any woman—singular or plural—in the last six months.
Jane kept her gaze away from the water. She really didn’t need to see if her boss had tan lines or not. She already knew the answer.
No tan lines.
Anywhere.
Instead she looked at another body of water: the Pacific Ocean. Damon’s mansion was set up and away on a winding hill, minutes away from the Malibu shore. The left side of his house was all glass—there was a button that lowered a shade when he wanted privacy.
Not that Damon ever seemed to want privacy of any sort.
Over the last two years as Damon Suarez’s personal assistant, Jane had learned to expect the unexpected. More often than not the unexpected was Damon behaving in some outrageous manner that would grab the media’s attention.
He hadn’t glanced up when she’d entered. No surprise there. It was a Damon Suarez world and anyone else who entered his atmosphere merely existed for his amusement.
Jane frowned. That wasn’t fair to him at all.
Damon was a good boss—she’d heard horror stories from other personal assistants about what their famous employers made them do. Unlike others, he was clean and never made her run out to buy drugs or hire any hookers. And he wasn’t abusive. He was just outlandish, which she’d known about when she had first heard about the job.
She really hadn’t expected him to hire her. He was all flash, glorying in the spotlight, even though he hadn’t released anything since his number one song, “Luv is Love,” when Damon had been a teen idol. He was now thirty-six and was still making money off that song.
While many artists might revile at being called a “one hit wonder,” Damon loved it. He would go on tour and perform his self-titled album, always ending on that particular song; the audience would join in on the chorus and dance in the aisles. Not only was “Luv is Love” still popular—current famous artists covered the song, the latest being pop singer Evie Morgan—but Damon had also created a new dance move in the music video: The Glide.
Dubbed the new Moonwalk, The Glide was a cross between a step in the waltz and hip hop. It was supposed to look effortless even as your feet did crazy things below. Jane still thought it looked like one had to go the bathroom really, really, really bad.
And his clothes . . . well, she’d never known a man so confident in his masculinity to pull off some of the outfits he wore. That man seemed unable to say no to a brightly colored satin shirt or a pair of impossibly tight jeans. There had been many times when she’d hidden his Fedora on him because, really, it was a Fedora.
After she interviewed with him, she expected him to go with someone more willing to put up with his antics, and someone way more qualified. But he’d selected her, saying, “I have a good instinct about you, and I like Virgos.”
That sort of logic baffled her.
Damon’s eyes were still closed, his expression relaxed. His head rested against the tub’s ledge, his dark brown hair falling over his forehead. He still hadn’t shaved, the stubble threatening to soon become a close-cropped beard. With his steady breathing, she wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Except . . .
There was a smile playing about his mouth.
He wouldn’t be smiling for long.
“Damon.” Jane willed herself to relax, but her muscles refused to obey. “Do you have a moment?”
“For you, Timmons? Always. But make me a drink, will you?”
“Sure.”
“And don’t forget the umbrella. I love those things.”
Him and his umbrella drinks.
She went over to the bar area, which given the open plan of his home, was in plain view of the hot tub, and got out a large glass.
“On the rocks?”
He arched an eyebrow, not even opening his eyes. “That’s what the usual entails, Timmons.”
Jane used a pair of tongs to reach into the ice bucket to grab some cubes.
“Make sure there are only three cubes. Three’s my lucky number, you know.”
Jane bit her tongue as she dropped the ice into the glass. Of course she knew how many ice cubes he wanted. She’d made it her job to notice what he liked and disliked.
She reached into the mini-fridge below and grabbed what she needed. She laid out the ingredients on the smooth, black bar. She uncapped the carton of milk and poured it into the glass. Then she reached for the bottle of . . .
Hershey’s chocolate sauce and squeezed a healthy dollop into the milk.
Only Damon would ask for chocolate milk on the rocks with a mini umbrella.
She stirred the drink, making sure it was well mixed. For the finishing touch, she added a bright pink mini umbrella. Carrying the drink in her right hand, she headed to the hot tub. Damon was all smooth, sleek muscles, his skin a burnt gold, darkened from the sun.
And he was watching her.
She faltered briefly, and from the slight narrowing of his gaze, he had seen her misstep.
When had he opened his eyes?
She hadn’t noticed. Weird, that. She often knew when Damon was looking at her, since she’d feel a pinprick of sensation between her shoulder blades that would radiate to the back of her neck, where she’d often had to fight the compulsion to touch the exposed skin there.
She had once thought brown eyes were harder to read, but that had been pre-Damon. His light brown eyes were like melted milk chocolate and revealed every facet of emotion. It wasn’t like Damon to shy away from feelings regardless. The freedom in which he expressed himself had shocked her at first—she hadn’t quite known what to make of it, or how to respond. She’d never known someone to be so honest with what he said or felt, but she had found herself liking it.
His temper was much harder to ignite, as he tended to be more amused than anything. But when he did get mad, it was often a short-lived affair. His laughter was boisterous, often inviting others to join in on the fun. He was so open with how he felt and loose with physical affection with others that it often made her uncomfortable and . . . envious.
He’d only tried to hug her once on her thirtieth birthday, exactly six months after she’d started working for him. It had been unexpected and . . . awkward.
She recalled the moment with perfect clarity. The press of his body, the scent of his cologne, how right he felt, all the while her arms dangling at her sides as she stood there, not moving. He’d let go of her just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, and said, “Ah, you’re not touchy feely. Sorry about that.”
She wasn’t a hugger or touchy feely—not even with people she was close to—but that hadn’t been the reason for the awkwardness on her end. She’d been hiding a closely guarded secret for a long time, but the feelings had been so new and fresh that she hadn’t know what to do of them at the time. And honestly, she still didn’t know what to do with the fact that she loved Damon.
And if there were moments in the last two years when she’d recall the feel of his arms around her, she shoved them away.
Far, far, far away.
She certainly wasn’t going to be one of those assistants who had fantasies about her boss.
She had goals. Serious ones for her career. And they didn’t involve her being used and tossed aside. His lovers were like fish to him—anything past three days and it started to stink.
“The drink, Timmons.” Amusement laced in his smooth, baritone voice, the sound of it making her think of rich chocolate cake. Sinful and a sensory overload with guaranteed results to cause regrets if she indulged.
Everything about him made her think of chocolate.
She started. It was unlike her to be so caught up in her thoughts that she wasn’t on top of her game. That Damon would have to remind her to do anything bothered her.
“Here you go,” she said as she handed him the drink, being careful to make sure their fingers didn’t accidentally graze.
He took the little umbrella from his drink and twirled it. “I can always tell your mood by the umbrella you choose.”
“Mini umbrellas are not mood rings, Damon.”
“You pick blue when you’re happy or have good news. Green when you’re not feeling well. Orange is for you’re worried or have bad news. You’re pissed at me if I get a yellow one. And I’m guessing that pink means . . . you like someone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her heart beat furiously in her chest. “It was the last one in the pack.”
“That’s not good. You’ll have to run out and get some more. I can’t drink my strawberry smoothie without one. You know these little umbrellas make every drink better.”
“Your ice is melting.”
He ignored the drink and studied her. “What’s going on?”
“There are some things we need to discuss.” The words felt like wood chips in her mouth.
“Uh oh. Am I in trouble again? I’ll put on my serious face.” Damon promptly schooled his features so no trace of amusement remained in his chiseled face.
He had such a striking visage, the sort that could make her lose her breath at his sheer masculine beauty if she wasn’t careful. He was deceptively angelic looking, but he wasn’t innocent. Oh no,
he would gladly lead any woman to temptation, and said woman probably wouldn’t mind one second of her downfall.
Damon didn’t believe in delayed gratification. If he wanted something now, he’d go and get it. Why, as he would say, would he want to postpone something good?
“You’re not in trouble.” But it was only mid-morning. There was plenty of time left in the day to stir up controversy. “I think, however, it would be best to have this conversation when you’re done”—she casted about for the correct phrase—“hot tubbing.”
He laughed. “I was relaxing, Timmons. Last night’s show at The Whisky was wild.”
“I was there.”
“Oh, I see.” Damon took a sip before putting the glass down on the side of the tub. There was a milk chocolate moustache above his upper lip, and she fought the compulsion to point it out to him. “You want to talk about that.”
“Actually—”
He stretched his arms overhead and yawned. “Don’t worry, Timmons. Nothing bad happened.”
“—it’s not about last night.”
“You’re not mad that I danced in the audience for the encore song?”
She hadn’t liked all those people grabbing at him, nor had the security detail. “Of course I would prefer that you hadn’t done that, but since you don’t listen to me—”
“I listen to you.”
“When you want to,” she said.
He grinned unabashedly.
That grin did funny things to her. She squared her shoulders and focused on his now empty glass. “Here, let me take that.”
He handed it over, and when she enclosed her hand around the glass, his circled around her wrist.
Her pulse quickened under the press of his fingers. Surely he could feel that. But maybe he wouldn’t, right?
“Why is your pulse racing?”
Oh crappity crap crap.
“Are you nervous?”
She seized on the excuse, like a drowning man would hold tight to the life buoy thrown to him. “Yes.”
“You’re never nervous.”
Ha ha ha. She’d fooled him, all right. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Timmons.”
She fought the shiver at how he said her last name. She wouldn’t know what to do if he said her first name in that dangerous, silky voice of his. She’d be a complete goner, and he’d have the upper hand.
And she didn’t want to give him that.
Instead she focused on the thing that had been bothering her ever since he taken that first sip.
“You have a chocolate stain”—she gestured to his mouth—“just there.”
She handed him a napkin but . . .
He’d already licked the smear off. “Gone?”
“Yes.” The napkin dangled uselessly between her fingers. She placed it on the side table, smoothing out the corners, and studiously ignored his reflection in the mirror before her. “We really do need to talk, Damon.”
“To go over my schedule, no doubt.” He sighed dramatically.
She kept smoothing the napkin, over and over and over. Then she started to pick at it. A little piece off the upper right corner. A sliver off the left side. Tiny pieces of the napkin gathered on the table. She pushed the torn napkin into a pile, gathering it in one hand, and closed it in her fist.
She was making a mess of things. “Among other things.”
“Other things?”
She made the mistake of meeting his gaze in the mirror. “There’s no easy way to say this—”
“Timmons.” Concern etched into his features, displacing the easy charm that had been there minutes ago. “It can’t be that bad. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
She laughed humorlessly. “You can’t.”
In a sudden movement, he stood and got out of the hot tub.
Well.
She had her answer about one thing.
Still no tan lines.
She quickly averted her gaze. “Damon.”
“I’ve got a towel on.”
It wasn’t enough. She hurried over to the door, throwing the shredded napkin into the small bin, and reached for the red silk bathrobe with black satin lining the opening panels and the cuffs. Fire-breathing black dragons were etched on the back. Because, of course, his robe needed fire-breathing dragons.
She held it out to him, not daring to look at that bared chest.
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
“Make yourself decent,” she said, before she succumbed and looked.
“Jane.”
Thank God for the door against her back. She almost melted to the floor with how “Jane” rolled off his tongue. She gave herself a mental shake.
“There’s one thing you can always count on from me,” he said, tugging the robe away from her. “I’m never decent.”
He waited, obviously expecting her to laugh, roll her eyes—something she would normally do when he stated such things like this.
“Damon.” There was no easy way to say this. She gathered her courage as she met his dark gaze. “I’m handing in my notice.”
“Your notice for what? Vacation time?”
Sometimes he could be deliberately obtuse.
Sometimes he could be deliberately obtuse.
“My two weeks’ notice,” she clarified. “I’m quitting.”
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