Showing posts with label Brooklyn Ann. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brooklyn Ann. Show all posts

Thursday, 21 July 2016

Book Blitz - With Vengeance by Brooklyn Ann




Title: With Vengeance
Series: Hearts of Metal #2
Author: Brooklyn Ann
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group 
Genre: Contemporary Romance
 Release Date: May 18, 2016



Blurb

Katana James is about to become the studio guitarist for her favorite heavy metal band ever—and meet the musicians, music, and man of her dreams.

SHE MEANS BUSINESS

Twenty-three year old Katana James can shred on the guitar. Not that anyone would know, as she’s spent most of her time working on a popular news and gossip website for Heavy Metal fans since her own band broke up. But her dreams are in reach when she gets an audition to play with her favorite band, Bleeding Vengeance. Kat won’t let her gender, her anxiety disorder, or even the pranks of a malicious stalker stand in her way. The only thing to threaten her focus? A growing fascination with the group’s brilliant, mysterious bass player.

HE OFFERS PLEASURE

Klement Burke has always been the heart, soul and brain of Bleeding Vengeance. He’s the kind of rock star who stays in the shadows, a perfectionist more interested in satisfying his brain than other parts of his body. Until he auditions Katana James. At first it seemed a perfect idea, as he’s been aware of her talent for some time. But meeting her in the flesh ignites thoughts far from professional. Despite the conflict of work, the odds against her falling for a geek like him, and a secret he’s been hiding, his heart, body and soul now belong to Kat.


Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK



Excerpt

He had to be near six and a half feet tall, way taller than he appeared in their album pictures or on stage. Long, sandy blond hair caressed his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends. His blue-green eyes danced with mischief and intelligence. Some strange, intense feeling tightened Kat’s stomach and chest, making it hard to breathe.

She stared for what felt like an eternity, her heart pounding before she recovered herself and nodded. “Yes, I’m Katana.”

Klement gave her an unreadable smile and gestured for her to follow him to where the rest of the band waited, including Cliff Tracey, the lead singer and her biggest crush. Kat didn’t know what would be worse: Klement rejecting her, or humiliating herself in front of Cliff. Sucking in a deep breath, she squeezed the handle of her guitar case in a death grip and followed.

The bassist’s long strides led to small break room where three men lounged, men she’d only seen from a distance on stage at concerts and up close on posters on her wall. Roderick Powell eyed her up and down with a friendly smile.

“’Ello, love. So you’re the one who’s going to help us make this album?”

His British accent made her want to melt into a puddle. She nodded and shook his hand, hoping she didn’t look too star-struck. “I’m Katana James.”

“Roderick Powell.” He continued to scrutinize her. “You look too little to be behind those blistering samples we heard.”

Behind her, Klement laughed. “Yeah, she is pretty short.”

“Five feet.” Kat managed a nervous smile before her gaze strayed to the front man of the band. Cliff Tracey stood only five feet away. Her breath halted as she took in the sight of his rich chestnut curls, chocolate eyes and sculpted jaw. The man was too beautiful for words.

His gaze swept her from head to toe as he shook her hand, making heat rise to her cheeks. “So you’re ‘Metal-Kat’ from Metalness.com. You’re even better-looking than your partner. But you look too cute for this work.”

A line from the Rudolph Christmas special rang in her head. He thinks I’m cute!

She choked back a giggle. She could do that later when she called Kinley and told her how it went.

“That’s right.” Roderick leaned forward. “I love that site. You give us good promo, and your memorial post for Lefty did him justice.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. “Kinley wrote most of it, since…uh, she was there with you guys when it happened. I just filled in the background.” Kat looked down at her feet, feeling depressed and awkward at bringing up that tragic day when Lefty had been found dead from a cocaine overdose in his hotel room during the band’s tour with Viciӧus. Kin had called her both right after it happened and then at the memorial service, knowing Kat wished she was there herself to honor the memory of her idol.

The fact that she was here to replace their fallen comrade and her idol struck Kat again full-force. She didn’t want to usurp Lefty. She wanted to honor his legacy. She prayed they would see that.

Cliff stepped closer to her. “The part you wrote was the most beautiful.”

Kat shivered at his proximity and husky voice. “Thank you.”

Klement made an impatient sound behind her. “Let’s get rolling.”

She snapped to attention, ashamed of her giddy distraction. She was here to work, not flirt with a potential colleague.

Cliff grinned. “Open up that case, sweetie. Let’s see what you got.”

Kat smiled back, hoping she wasn’t blushing, and opened her case to reveal her vintage Gibson Flying V.

Cliff nodded in approval. “Good choice.”

“Lefty played a Gibson V.”

Klement’s soft voice washed over Kat, tremulous with sorrow. The grief in his eyes gave her an unreasonable urge to hug him.

“I know,” she whispered. “He was my hero.”

They exchanged a long look, and Kat was struck by the sincere respect in the bassist’s eyes. In all her twenty-three years, no one had ever taken her so seriously before. Even Kinley often rolled her eyes at her, accusing her of being too girly. Kat wanted more than anything to be worthy of this respect.

She was led into the recording room.

“So, where do I plug in?”

He handed her a giant set of headphones and gestured to the center of the room, where speaker cabinets were arranged along with a set of whammy pedals. “Right here.”

Kat hooked up her guitar, and Klement showed her where to plug the headphones so she could hear the music and instructions from the console station behind the glass. “We’ll be back there keeping an eye on things, but try to pretend you’re alone.”

Easy for you to say, she thought.

Roderick and Cliff were already in there. They waved at her from the window. Klement nodded and strode off, leaving her alone in the chamber feeling like a zoo exhibit. Kat swallowed, mouth dry.

The bassist’s voice echoed in her headphones, alarmingly intimate in her ears and somehow familiar. “We’re going to start with ‘Sorrow’s Harvest.’ Are you ready?”

She nodded with a confidence she didn’t feel.

“Remember, just like you’re at home practicing….”

Klement’s voice faded out. Something about the echo made Kat think of her IT guy again. But he couldn’t be—
The thought broke as music began to play through her headphones.

The song sounded almost the same as it had on the MP3 sent her to practice with, only the scratch guitar section was gone and Cliff’s voice sounded more pure. Closing her eyes, Kat struck the first chord just in time. The faces of her audience faded from her awareness as fierce concentration overtook her being, focus on touching each string at the right time, adding the correct pressure, making her instrument sing. Like an auditory engineer, she focused on one note and then the next until the song finished and triumph straightened her spine. She hadn’t messed up. In fact, she’d sounded pretty good.

Clapping echoed in the headphones, jolting her back to reality.

“Bloody well done, love!” Roderick said.

Cliff stared at her through the window with increased interest. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

“I…uh…” Kat shrugged. “I just keep trying until I get it right.”

Klement shook his head. “It’s not where she learned it, it’s why.” He looked at her long and intently. “Why do you play?”

She gave him a direct stare through the glass. “I love music.”

He smiled with such understanding and satisfaction that her body warmed. “That’s right. Now let’s see how well you learned the new songs.”



Also Available


AMAZON US / UK



Author Bio


Formerly an auto-mechanic, Brooklyn Ann thrives on writing Romance featuring unconventional heroines and heroes who adore them. After writing historical paranormal romance in her critically acclaimed “Scandals with Bite” series and urban fantasy in her “Brides of Prophecy” novels, she now explores the chaotic realm of heavy metal music— a difficult world to find love in.

She lives in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho with her son, her cat, and a 1980 Datsun 210.



Author Links


Thursday, 5 May 2016

Book Blitz - Kissing Vicious by Brooklyn Ann




Title: Kissing Vicious
Series: Hearts of Metal #1
Author: Brooklyn Ann
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group 
Genre: Contemporary Romance
 Release Date: August 20, 2015



Blurb

Aspiring guitarist Kinley Black is about to get her first big break—as a roadie for Viciöus, her favorite heavy metal band, and for the rock god she always dreamt might make her a woman.

THE ROADIE

At 15, aspiring guitarist Kinley Black wished she were a boy. At 16, after hearing Quinn Mayne sing, she wanted him to make her a woman. Now, at 22, her dreams have come true. Quinn’s band Viciöus needs someone to lug their amps around the country, to strive and sweat with the guys. She just has to act like one of them.

AND THE ROCK GOD

Quinn had to admit the new chick could pull her weight, but that didn’t mean his road manager made the right choice. Taking a hottie on a heavy metal music tour was like dangling meat in front of a pack of feral hounds—and Quinn could be part dog himself. But more surprising than her beautiful body are Kinley’s sweet licks, so that no man could help but demand a jam session. Quinn will soon do anything to possess her, and to put Kinley in the spotlight where she belongs. And to keep her safe and sound from the wolves.


Purchase Links

AMAZON US / UK



Excerpt

“C’mon, baby, just let me feel ’em and I’ll let you through.” The leering roadie uncrossed his arms to reach forward.

Kinley choked back a groan of revulsion and stepped away.

Her pulse had been jacked up, her steps light with anticipation as she’d gone backstage to interview her favorite band. This interview would be her website’s biggest feature to date.

And now this asshole roadie was ruining her elation with his disgusting come-ons.

“It’s not the seventies anymore. Let me through.” She waved her laminated pass. “I have a scheduled interview.”

There. That was as diplomatic as she could be. It wouldn’t do to piss off the crew if she wanted to talk to the band, but this Neanderthal made it hard to be nice. With any luck, he’d back off and badger someone else. But considering those piggy eyes and that “Female Body Inspector” shirt, a woman would have to be desperate to allow his grimy fingers near her. The fact that a band as awesome as Viciöus had such a prick in their employ was beyond depressing.

She sighed. After she got her interview, it would all be worth it. Her ears still pounded from the glorious shredding guitar riffs, the throbbing bass, and the impossible speed of the drums. They had been gods on stage and now she was going to meet them.

“Sorry, sugar. Rules are rules. I gotta make sure the band’s getting Grade A titties.” With speed belying his sluggish appearance, he shoved those sausage fingers forward, reaching for her breasts. She swatted his hand away.

Fury boiled from her toes up. “If you touch me again, I’ll wipe the floor with your ass.”

The roadie’s laughter, like from a cheesy sitcom, rang in her ears. “Sounds kinky.” The moron actually stepped closer.

Kinley rolled her eyes. If it weren’t for this once-in-a-lifetime chance, she would have answered him with an uppercut. “A little help here?” she shouted, trying to salvage the situation.

The mass of gawkers muttered and looked in all directions, avoiding her gaze. Some asshole in the crowd yelled, “Show your tits!”

The roadie grinned and nodded in agreement.

“Thanks,” she muttered, embittered but unsurprised.

After what seemed like hours of dancing out of the caveman’s reach, a man approached. Her eyes widened. It was none other than Curtis Scrimm, lead guitarist of Viciöus.

He pushed his dirty blond locks from his face and grinned. “What’s going on?”

She struggled to meet his gaze while keeping one eye on the roadie. “I have a pass, but this guy’s molesting me and won’t let me through. Could you please tell him to stop?”

Kinley waved her laminate in case he hadn’t noticed. He leaned forward and gazed at it with squinty, glazed eyes.

Damn. If he was high, he’d be no help at all.

The roadie gave him a pleading look. “C’mon, Curt, she won’t play the game.”

Curt shrugged helplessly, eyes darting between Kinley and the roadie, then back at the swarm of groupies visibly panting after him. One already had her breasts bared.

“I’m serious,” Kinley growled. “I’ll kick his ass if he touches me again.”

Her harasser licked his lips. “Oooh. I like it when they fight.”

The guitarist shook his head, blinking at the roadie. “Harry, are you drunk on the job again? I thought Gaffer warned you. Besides, she doesn’t look like she has much anyway…” He trailed off as the groupies slinked closer, eyes feral with curiosity.

Kinley’s chest tightened with trepidation. Where were the other security guys? Where was the rest of the band?

The roadie reached for her again.

She jumped out of his way, stomach churning with anxiety. Then again, maybe it was a good thing the rest of the band wasn’t here to witness this disaster. The situation was quickly getting out of control. And it looked like she wouldn’t be getting her interview after all.

“I’ll fuck him up,” she stammered, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “I swear!”

Curtis chuckled, eyes roving over her body, visibly assessing her odds. Though she was tall and fit, she was lean, and the roadie outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. “Lady, if you can kick Harry’s ass, you can have his job.”

Her breath left her lungs. Kinley had been prepared to just break the roadie’s nose and walk out, but now the proverbial carrot had been dangled.

A chance to work for Viciöus? Hell, a chance to be back in music?

A wave of longing rushed over her to once more be part of it all. For that pump of adrenaline, the roar of the crowd, the heat of the stage lights—the soul searing passion of the music. To return to that life, even if only on the fringes, Kinley would do anything.

Beating this perverted scumbag to a pulp would be no hardship.

She dropped into a fighting stance and slightly relaxed her fists, the better to do more damage.

One last time, she tried for diplomacy. “As much as I’d love to work for you, it really would be better to call him off and let me—”

Harry’s porcine hand gripped her breast.

Kinley saw red.

Her fist connected with the roadie’s nose and she felt the satisfying crunch. He bellowed like a boar and blindly swung a ham-like fist.

Kinley easily ducked the punch and followed up with a knee to his gut.

He doubled over with an agonized groan but surprised her with an uppercut that thankfully missed her jaw and instead struck the side of her head. Kinley stumbled back, one ear ringing from the blow, the other echoing from the noise of her audience. Are those cheers or jeers?

Her mind struggled to unscramble. Another punch whistled past her head and she dodged it just in time. Her heel slammed into Harry’s kneecap and he went down shrieking.

This time Kinley didn’t give him a chance to recover. Her fists pummeled his face like the punching bag she practiced on in her garage.

Savage glee infused her with every strike. He collapsed after another blow to the jaw, but she wasn’t finished. Kinley raised her fist.

A voice rang out: “What the fuck is going on here?”

She froze. Quinn Mayne, lead singer of Viciöus, strode forward, his long black hair framing a chiseled, god-like face with green eyes foreboding as a hurricane sky.

Reality crashed down upon her. Suddenly, she could see how insane she must appear.



Author Bio


Formerly an auto-mechanic, Brooklyn Ann thrives on writing Romance featuring unconventional heroines and heroes who adore them. After writing historical paranormal romance in her critically acclaimed “Scandals with Bite” series and urban fantasy in her “Brides of Prophecy” novels, she now explores the chaotic realm of heavy metal music— a difficult world to find love in.

She lives in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho with her son, her cat, and a 1980 Datsun 210.



Author Links