
About this Book: There is nothing Connor Malone wants to do less than babysit the outrageous and out-of-control pop star Lyric Jones. But part of him relishes taming the celebratty songstress and showing her what it’s like to be possessed-body and soul-by one man. And though Lyric’s crazy antics nearly drive Connor to the edge, his quiet intensity penetrates her defenses, leaving them both vulnerable to the secrets that could topple Lyric from the stage.
Here’s an except from the book:
“You’re out of your mind!”
Pop Malone scowled at his son, Connor. “Watch your mouth. I can still wipe the floor with your scrawny ass.”
Connor wiped his hand over his short-cut hair and clamped down on the top in an effort to pull it out. Nathan Tucker had the right idea by shaving his head. It was something Connor was going to have to look into if he kept getting bombs dropped on him.
“Pop,” Connor said in exasperation. “We install security systems. Sophisticated, state-of-the-art computer monitoring equipment. We do consulting. We evaluate security for other people. We are not a goddamn bodyguard service.”
Pop huffed, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his adopted daughter’s desk. Faith stared wide-eyed at her father and brother but didn’t say a word. She was too glued to the conversation.
“If you’d stop your yammering for two seconds, I’d explain why you’re perfect for this job.”
“Oh boy,” Connor muttered. “I can’t wait to hear this. I better sit down for it.”
He flopped into one of the chairs in front of Faith’s desk and waited for his father’s latest harebrained scheme. Not that his father wasn’t a smart man. He was one of the most intelligent and cunning men Connor knew. It was the cunning part that bothered the hell out of him right now. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew. And it looked like he was about to find out.
“Phillip Armstrong is a longtime friend. We go way back. Served together in the marines. He’s a big-shot record executive now and he has a big-name artist on his label.”
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