Monday, December 28, 2015

Free books, 99c New Releases, and More!

Hey Folks!

The holidays are mostly over, and that means that it's time to unwind and relax with some great new books, thank heavens. I've got some great new picks this month! These books are great, absolutely wonderful, and I hope you enjoy them!

I'm doing a bit of relaxing, a bit of reading, etc. I've been beginning to work on the urban fantasy/paranormal romance that I'll put out early in 2016 that's based in the world of SM Reine. If you haven't read Sara Reine's books, I highly recommend them. Indeed, I recommend them so much. Not just because I'm going to write in her world. Her writing is lovely, and she creates long, convoluted, character-based plots that tie up beautifully after long, complex series. (Just in case you were wondering why I like her work, yeah, maybe they resonate with me for some strange reason.) I'll put the first book in her series in this email. They're really good. The first one is called Death's Hand and it's FREE everywhere. Cool, huh?

Also, I'm going to be writing a couple of "standalones" in 2016, as "standalone" as any of my books ever are, anyway. I'm thinking that one, which will be released in May, will be based on one of the guys at Georgie's wedding, maybe one of the Earls or Princes that Alexandre was telling Georgie about. Or maybe about Pierre's younger brother, Maxence Grimaldi, who is heir to the throne of Monaco after Pierre, should anything, ahem, happen to Flicka's husband Pierre, like a sniper shot from a bell tower if Pierre doesn't pony up and tell Wulf anything he knows about Flicka's whereabouts. Just sayin'. 

As always, thank you so much for reading, and thank you for your support this last year. I'll do my best to drop lots of fun books in 2016.

All the best,
Blair Babylon

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Nothing Else Matters -- October 27th! The Conclusion to Xan and Georgie!

Brand-new New Adult Rock Star Romance
from USA Today-Bestselling Author Blair Babylon!

The nail-biting conclusion to the Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie and Xan series
Nothing Else Matters
explores the depths of the heart and the healing power of love.

Release: October 27, 2015

Georgie broke up with Xan Valentine, the lead singer for the rock band Killer Valentine, the guy that Rolling Stone calls “sex incarnate.” The magazine isn’t wrong, but they don’t know the half of it. He’s the alpha-est male who ever walked onto a stage or into a bedroom and might be crazy, and Georgie is definitely in love with him. Plus, he hired her ex-boyfriend, her first “real” boyfriend, to play in the band, and now she’s stuck between them.

So she tried to leave. That’s what any sane girl would do.

And just as she feared, the Russian mafia kidnapped her.

She prays that Xan won’t try to rescue her because they said they’ll kill him. But she knows he will, even if it costs him everything.

Nothing Else Matters is the final book in the Georgie and Xan series.

Haven’t read the first one yet?

Get Every Breath You Take (Book 1) Here:

Excerpt from Nothing Else Matters

Georgie pushed the door open and found Alexandre sitting on the bed, his good arm resting across his bent knees. He was wearing his jeans, but he had on a blue hospital gown instead of a shirt. His hair was escaping his ponytail, blond strands of it glinting in the fading sunlight streaming in the long windows. His hurt arm rested in his lap behind his knees.
     He said, “Sorry about making you the fetch-andcarry girl.”
     “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” Georgie pulled the drape that cordoned off the door to the private room and scooted onto the foot of his bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much under her legs.
     “Are you going to wear your jeans again?” he asked. His weak smile worried her. “It’s considered déclassé to not change into yet another designer outfit for the reception. Perhaps your black jeans?”
     “I have a dress that Flicka brought for me,” she told him. “It’s red.”
     “Too bad you don’t have that black dress with the silver chains from their civil wedding. It looked smashing on you.”
     “And on your floor.”
     “Indeed.” His smile grew a little warmer.
     “Are you okay?” she asked.
     He didn’t even glance at his hand, but his quiet voice was just slightly breathy. “I don’t think so.”
     “Is there anything I can do?”
     He shook his head, a slight movement from side to side, but his expression was still so calm.
     “Are you sure that you want to go tonight? We don’t have to. We can just stay in Geneva tonight, if that would be better. I’d stay with you.”
     “It wouldn’t matter. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow because the best surgeon in Europe is flying in to do it. Going now wouldn’t change anything. A distraction might be welcome.”
     “Well, then. Let’s get this party started,” Georgie said, bracing her arms on her knees to stand and get their clothes.
     He lifted his wrapped arm from his lap where it had been hidden behind his legs and the long part of the hospital gown. Elastic bandages wrapped his forearm and hand down to his fingertips where the ends of a foam and silver splint stuck out of the beige cloth. “I don’t know how I’ll get clothes on over this.”
     Georgie smiled, cocking her head and looking up from the corner of her eyes like she had been very smart. “I called the concierge at the hotel and got sewing supplies. I have scissors and a needle, and white thread for the shirt and black thread for the jacket. I can sew you into it. If they look closely, it might look like Frankenstein,” she admitted. “But if they don’t, the tux should cover most of that.”
     A slow smile grew on his face while she spoke. He said, “That’s amazing.”
     She patted his long, bare foot because it was closest to her. “It’s okay, man. I’ll just grab those garment bags.”
     Georgie slid off the end of the bed and got the garment bags from Friedhelm, who looked entirely relaxed leaning against the wall, pleasantly hanging out with Paul, except that his brown eyes tracked everyone who moved in the long hospital hallway. He had a resting sweet face.
     When she brought the bags back to Alexandre, he was already standing up and was shrugging off the cotton hospital gown, facing her. The cotton slid down his chest and dropped to the floor. She hoisted the bags up and hung them on the curtain track that ran near the ceiling. “Let’s get you dressed first,” she said. “You’ll wrinkle less.”
     “You can wait outside,” he said. “I’ll just be a minute. Then we can sew me in.”
     “Oh, come on. I’ll just help you button up the shirt.” He unbuttoned his jeans with his one hand and shoved them down his long legs. “I don’t need any help.”
     “One last night, okay?”
     “I beg your pardon?” he asked as he sat on the bed and yanked the denim off his foot with one hand.
     “One last night. I’m going to Atlanta tomorrow. Let me help you.”
     “I keep hearing that, but you never leave.”
     “Now you’re daring me,” she said. He pulled the other leg of his jeans off his foot and threw them behind himself on the pillow. He wore blue boxer-briefs that hugged his slim hips and rode below the ripples of his abs. Red-gray bruises stained his skin on his ribs and thighs, mostly on his left side.
     He said, “I am merely commenting on a trend. One that I like.”
     “Well, I’m just saying that you should let me help you because this really is our last night,” she said, trying not to look at the bleeding under his skin. “Don’t push me away, even for a minute, even to just get dressed.”
     “Then don’t go to Atlanta,” he said.
     She ignored him because she ignored the people on the sidewalks of Southwestern State who hollered that little green men were following her, too. Indulging in fantasies was not something that the Ice Princess did.
     She said, “Even now. Even just for a few minutes. Just pretend that I’m helping you so I can stay.”
     He blinked, those lush eyelashes blinking over his dark eyes. “All right.”
     “So we need to get ready for the reception,” she said.
     He nodded, some of his blond hair slipping over his shoulder.
     “Do you want to shower?” she asked.
     He gestured to the splint and bandages on his left hand and shrugged his strong shoulder, pulling up the ripples of muscle along his torso.
     Yeah, his splint and bandages shouldn’t get soggy.
     “I can give you a sponge bath,” Georgie said. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in hospitals?”

Monday, July 27, 2015

Lay Your Hands On Me -- August 4th!

Brand-new New Adult Rock Star Romance
from USA Today-Bestselling Author Blair Babylon!

Xan Valentine, the rock star that Rolling Stone called “sex incarnate,” stands in the spotlight every night and sings love songs to the women in the audience. They swoon. They scream. They believe him. They don’t know him like Georgie does.

They’ve never seen him nearly beat two men to death until someone pulled him off. They’ve never seen the coldness in his dark eyes when he sat across a table, negotiating a contract that broke their hearts.

He’s never stolen into their bedroom at night, slid into their bed, and made love to them until dawn, and he’s never treated them like it never happened while the bitemarks on their backs and thighs were still sore.

They’ve never seen him play the violin like an angel.

Or a demon.

Georgie is officially in his band now, playing the keyboards, and every concert drives the music deeper into her soul. If Georgie leaves the protection of the band and Xan Valentine, the Russian mafia will kidnap and kill her. If she stays and plays in his band for just a few more weeks, Xan will pay for her college and law school.

If her heart can survive even one more night with him.

Lay Your Hands on Me is the third book in the Georgie and Xan series.
Haven’t read the first one yet?

Download Every Breath You Take (Book 1) for FREE here:

Excerpt from Lay Your Hands On Me

Xan Valentine, the rock star—and Georgie could tell that he was Xan by the arrogant tilt of his head and the jitter of his fingers drumming on the conference room table—pushed a thick contract across the table toward her. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore a trim, blue business suit without a tie, his collar unbuttoned at his throat. Silver and steel chains at his throat sparkled white glints in the overhead fluorescent lights, and that green crystal earring dangled from his ear lobe.
He looked straight at her while he slid the contract over the wood like he was accusing her of something, his dark eyes level and still as he stared. White bandages wrapped his knuckles, but at least the bleeding must have stopped overnight.
Jonas, the band manager for Killer Valentine, sat on Xan’s left. He sat straight in his chair, his black suit pressed and smooth.
Georgie was alone on her side of the table. The chill air in the hotel leaked down the back of her tee shirt and up her short sleeves, raising goosebumps on her skin.
She picked up the stack of paper and riffled through it. “This is a lot of contract for just two months.”
“There’s a lot to do in a rock band,” Xan said.
He didn’t sneer, and he didn’t snarl. If anything, his businesslike tone sounded resigned.
“I’m not signing this until I read the whole thing. I want an attorney’s opinion on it, too. Do you have an electronic copy?”
Jonas slid a thumb drive across the table to her. “Here’s a PDF.”
“Thanks.” She crammed the stick into the back pocket of her jeans.
Xan said, “We need you to sign it before you play with the band again, and the next performance is two days from now.”
“I’m not signing something I haven’t read or don’t understand.” The sheaf of pages weighed in her hands.
“We have a show coming up. If you haven’t signed it by tomorrow morning, we have to cancel the show. If we cancel it—”
“I know. I know. The fans will post vomiting gifs and Killer Valentine will be ruined forever.” She flipped to the front page, which was mostly defining terms, like that Georgie was The Band Member, Killer Valentine, Inc. was The Band, and Mr. Alexandre Grimaldi de Valentinois was The Employer.
So Xan was the one who was paying her, not the band.
Georgie flipped more pages.
Xan folded his hands and looked down at his fingers. He didn’t look like he was trying to hide something, just waiting. Steel and black metal rings wound around his fingers, and thick chains dangled on his wrists near the cuffs of his suit jacket and clicked against the table when he moved his arms.
Georgie read further into the contract, slowing down when she got to The Band Member’s Duties.
The concerts were there, of course, including playing the music while sober and not under the influence of controlled substances.
That must be a new clause.
Her chest hurt for a minute. Rade had been a brilliant keyboard player, and hearing him play classical music on the piano would have been amazing. She had meant to ask him to play for her.
She sucked in a steadying breath and read on.
The terms of the contract ran until July thirty-first, a little over two months, the entire European leg of the tour.
After that, Georgie was free to move to Atlanta and Emory University, where she would resume her plan to go to law school and pay off her many, many debts, both financial and moral. There was an option to renew the contract for one-year terms after that, which made Georgie snort.
No way.
No fucking way was she sticking around after July thirty-first.
The next part was weird.
Georgie looked up at Xan and Jonas. Xan was still meditating on his clasped hands, but Jonas was scrolling through something on his phone. She asked, “What do you mean by ‘public relations engagements?’”
“Anything the band needs,” Xan said. His hands were still clasped on the table. “Radio interviews in the mornings by phone, studio interviews, clubs, other appearances.”
“I can’t do public appearances,” she said. “They’re still after me.”
The Butorins, a Russian mafia bratva, had tried to kidnap Georgie several times because she owed them eight million dollars. Her father had swindled them out of that money, and they felt that Georgie should pay up. Before they had found her, she had planned to first pay off the charities that her father had stolen from, but she liked breathing, too. If she were dead, she would never pay off all the charities.
Xan shook his head. “The public eye is the safest place for you, currently. Every attempt to kidnap you has been in private or at least away from cameras or crowds. Also, later in the contract, you’ll see that it’s not your responsibility to provide security. It’s ours. You’ll have Adrien, who is the most diligent and highly trained security person we have. You’ll have others, too. You’ll be safe.”
“I need to hide. I need locked doors between me and the Russian mob.”
He shook his head again, but his careful, methodical gesture didn’t exude the wild energy of Xan anymore. “You need to remain in the limelight. Witnesses are your best security.”
Even his English accent had switched to the high-society British of Alex de Valentinois, leaving behind the guttural, working-class accent of Xan Valentine. His switches dizzied Georgie, but Jonas didn’t even look like he had noticed.
Jonas and the rest of the band either didn’t hear the difference in Alex’s accents or else they didn’t know what they signified, not that Georgie could have exactly defined what they meant, either.
But she knew that he was Alex now.
She stole another peek at Jonas, who was still peering at his phone.
Not that she could call him Alex. Everybody around here only knew him as Xan and only called him Xan.
“I can’t do appearances,” she repeated.
Alex’s dark eyebrows twitched. “The band needs all its members to do appearances.”
“I’m not really a band member.”
Alex leaned across the table and tapped the contract. “For two months, you are a full band member. You will continue to receive royalties on anything you record or write for the duration of the copyright.”
“It’s a ridiculously generous contract,” Jonas muttered. “Contract musicians and writing consultants are generally paid a flat rate under work-for-hire laws. I’ve never seen anything like this for a short-term gig.”
Georgie raised her eyebrows at Alex. “Really?”
He shrugged. “We negotiated the terms last night. This is merely the formal contract.”
“If this isn’t customary—” she started.
“We’re in a crisis. It isn’t customary to simultaneously lose two musicians out of five.”
“Six,” Jonas muttered.
“Rhiannon is a contractor under work-for-hire guidelines,” Xan told him.
“Hell, if Georgie is a band member, Rhiannon should be, too.”
“Just whom are you advocating for, Jonas?” His mild tone belied what he was actually saying.
Jonas set his mouth in a hard line and went back to texting on his phone.
Alex turned back to Georgie, his face still as impassive as marble. “The songs that we’ve already written together are copyrighted in both our names. Future music will be the same.”
Georgie went back to reading. The Non-Disclosure Agreement was outlined in excruciating detail, including but not limited to any communication in any form—electronic, print, or methods not therein described or currently in existence, and the ban was worldwide. She couldn’t even discuss him or the band by using smoke signals in Siberia or telepathic waves on Alpha Centauri. “Guess I won’t be writing my memoirs.”
“No,” Alex said. “No memoirs.”
Georgie saw the flaw in the logic. “How am I going to do interviews if I can’t discuss anything about the band?”
Jonas said, “You’ll have a list of approved topics and talking points.”
“That sounds spontaneous,” she grumbled.
Jonas looked confused. “It’s how all interviews are run. You can’t have musicians puking out anything they want to talk about. They’d just incriminate themselves for all sorts of things, like smuggling drugs over international borders up their asses.”
Georgie frowned at him.
“Okay, you wouldn’t do that,” Jonas said. “But can you imagine Grayson with a live mic and no piece of paper in front of him?”
“Grayson is in rehab,” Alex said, twisting one of the silver death’s head rings on his fingers.
“Yeah, but still,” Jonas sighed.
While Georgie had been standing in line for a latte that morning in the hotel lobby, she had seen Alex escort Grayson, their bass player, to a limo that morning, shake his hand, and stand on the sidewalk as it drove away. He had strode back into the hotel without looking back, his jaw set.
She asked, “What’s this ‘other and sundry duties?’”
“Anything band-related that I think is necessary,” Alex said, still fidgeting with his rings.
She didn’t want to make a suggestive comment, not after last night, not when she wanted to break down and sob or punch him in the face, she wasn’t sure which. “Okay.”
Alex’s eyes flicked up at her. “Band-related,” he stressed. “Keep reading.”
Georgie skimmed through the document, slowing only when she came to a section titled, “No Fraternization Among Band Members.”
The language was brutal. The consequences were severe, from fines to summary dismissal with no recourse. “This clause is pretty rough.”
“You wanted it,” Alex said, still staring at his hands.
“So what happens to you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“If you make a pass at me, I get fired and lose my college financing. What about you?”
He looked up from his hands, and for the first time, lines of anger creased around his eyes. The anger spread through his face and body, tightening his arms and clenching his hands into fists. In a guttural British accent, Xan said, “I’ll break up the band. I’ll cancel all future concerts and pay off the venues. I’ll walk away.”
“Is that in the contract?” she asked.
“I’ll have it added.”
Jonas stared at Xan, his lip curling up. “You can’t break up the band over something like this.”
“Watch me.”
“You can’t throw away everything you’ve worked for,” Jonas insisted.
Xan didn’t look away from Georgie. His dark eyes narrowed, and he bit down on the words. “She’s right. It’s not fair for her to take all the risk. If I violate that clause, I’ll burn Killer Valentine to the ground.”

Monday, July 13, 2015

Every Breath You Take on FKB&T!

Every Breath You Take is featured today on Free Kindle Books & Tips!

This is a great newsletter, and you can sign up at this link!

Friday, July 10, 2015

NOW FREE! Rock Star Romance Novel is FREE Everywhere!

New Adult Rock Star Romance
from USA Today-Bestselling Author Blair Babylon!

For the first time,
this rock star romance novel
is absolutely FREE


What happens when a Rock Star in Disguise meets a Billionaire in hiding?

Georgie doesn’t know who she is dating.

At a high society wedding, Georgie Johnson is introduced to Alexandre de Valentinois, a hereditary duke of nothing who flies around the world on his private planes and describes himself as “one of those despicable, idle rich men.” Yet, when pressed, he sings at the wedding in a gorgeous, clear tenor that tugs at Georgie’s soul, and miraculously, he calms her paralyzing stage fright so she can accompany him on the piano, even though she thought she had left her classical music career behind when she went into hiding.

But Alexandre has a dark side. His name is Xan Valentine, and he’s the rock star front man for Killer Valentine. He’s famous, but his paparazzi-dogged lifestyle might expose Georgie and get her killed.


Alex said, so quietly, “Play something for me.”
Her hands stretched over the keys, and she tried to push them down to play even a major chord, but as soon as a key neared the break point, just when the hammer inside the piano was poised to strike the string, something in her mind shouted Don’t! and she couldn’t press it.
Alex asked gently, “Does Flicka know you’re worse?”
“I don’t see how she would. We’ve been out of touch for a few years.”
“But she knows that you’ve got—” he paused, obviously considering whether to say the terrible words, “a problem with this.”
“She must have forgotten about it,” rather than that Flicka had decided to punish Georgie in a spectacularly cruel way.
Maybe Georgie deserved to try to face her fears, melt into an incoherent puddle on the floor, and have everyone from her childhood and current best friends laugh at her failure.
It would serve her right.
But she would never be able to walk as far as the piano in front of all those people, so Flicka couldn’t have her poetic justice.
“Anyway,” she said, “I can’t do it.”
“I can help you,” Alex said.
“And how could you do that? Hypnotize me? Doesn’t work. Psychoanalysis? There’s nothing there.”
“Of course not, but I don’t want you to play for them.” He leaned across the piano again, and his hair slid from behind his shoulder and hung, reflected in the black gloss of the piano’s lacquer. “I want you to play for me.”
Georgie stared down at her spidery hands hanging over the black and white piano keys. “I can’t.”
He walked around the piano and stood beside her, his slim hip right beside her cheek. A faint, masculine scent wafted from his clothes, a cologne, something soothing like green herbs. She was acutely aware that she could lean about six inches over and unzip his fly with her teeth.
Alex said, in a low, soft voice, “Play the middle C.”
She laid her thumb on the white key right in front of her waist and held it there, but she didn’t push down.
Alex stroked her arm from her elbow to her wrist with the back of his hand, soothing her. “Play it.”
She told her finger to push down, and she let the weight of her arm fall on her finger that was curled above the keys.
Her finger collapsed and wouldn’t press the key.
Alex shook his head, and his long hair swished over his shoulders. He turned his hand over so that his palm was on her wrist, and then he slid his hand over hers, covering her fingers on the keys with his own. Calluses on pads of his fingers were hard on the tops of her fingers.
He stepped behind her, still not moving his fingers over hers. Warmth from his body drifted out of his suit jacket that opened around them, spreading over her bare back, and his cologne filled her nose like she was walking in the fields around Tanglewood.
He leaned over her, stretching his arms on both sides of her, caging her.
His whisper brushed the skin on her neck. “I’m not forcing you to do something you don’t want to. I’m letting you have what you want most, what you crave, but you dare not admit, even to yourself.”
“I’m afraid,” Georgie admitted, her voice breathy from fear at pressing that note and from his body so close to hers.
“Everyone is, in the beginning,” he said. “It can be terrifying to have an experience so desired, so primal, that you lose yourself. You have to trust me to take you through the place that terrifies you, to keep you safe, and to hold you until you emerge on the other side.”
Georgie couldn’t seem to catch her breath or move away from him. “We’re still talking about the piano here?”
Alex chuckled.
“Just the piano,” she said, but she leaned back, almost imperceptibly, maybe an inch, so that his mouth was so near her skin that his breath was a hot circle on her bare shoulder, and the scent of champagne in his mouth rolled down her skin.
“Let me do it for you, first,” he whispered.
Georgie closed her eyes, and the weight of his finger forced hers down.
A single note, a C, rang out of the piano and jarred against her skin.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Wild Thing - May 11

Brand-new New Adult Rock Star Romance
from USA Today-Bestselling Author Blair Babylon!

The music calls Georgie.

Every night, she stands offstage, watching rock star Xan Valentine and his band, Killer Valentine, set fire to the crowd with music until they would burn down the city for him. His music wraps her until her fingers dance, desperately wanting the piano, but her terrified legs could never walk onto a stage.

Most nights, when Xan Valentine strides off the stage, his dark eyes shift, blurring, and he becomes Alexandre de Valentinois again.

Sometimes, Xan won’t let go.

Some of the other band members, Rade and Grayson, are caught in a death spiral of booze, drugs, and groupies. The drummer, Tryp, is too infatuated with his new wife to do more than show up to play.

Xan is the only one who can compel them onto the stage. He’s holding Killer Valentine together with the force of his will.

This can’t go on.

Something has to break.

Wild Thing is the second book in the Georgie and Xan series.

Haven’t read the first one yet?

Get Every Breath You Take (Book 1) Here:

Excerpt from Wild Thing

Riding in the back of the limousine on the way to the sound check, Georgie watched Alex, or Xan, or whoever he was.
     He reached over and held her hand. The hard calluses on his fingertips scraped her fingers. The sympathetic interest in Alex’s dark eyes made her feel like the chaos of the world out there had quieted.
     As they neared the venue, gliding through the light traffic hours before the arena began to fill, Alex’s body tensed.
     First, his far leg began to twitch.
     His strong fingers tapped out a complicated rhythm on the armrest on the door.
     As the venue came into view—a huge arts complex like a pile of white boxes surrounded by lonely fields of empty parking lots—Alex tugged her hand toward him, and he leaned over for a kiss.
     At first, his lips caressed hers, drawing out her response, an intimate and tantalizing kiss that promised more. His lips parted, and Georgie opened hers. His strong arms clamped around her waist and the back of her neck, grabbing a fistful of her long hair. He stroked her tongue with his until she felt a moan shudder in her throat, and he chuckled against her skin as he drew away.
     When he lifted his head, his dark eyes held the predatory gleam of a hawk, and his lips were pinker with the blood rushing through him.
     He dragged her across the car seat.
     His burly arms caged her, and he pinned her against the seat and kissed her again, opening her lips with his and bending her to fit against his hard body.
     She flattened her hands against his chest.
     He lifted his head, looking down at her. A smile curved one side of his mouth. “We’re almost to the show, anyway.”
     She couldn’t quite catch her breath. “Yeah.”
     He uncoiled his arms from around her, still keeping one hand resting on her back, and he stared out the window at the arena.
     His posture on the seat was wider, more possessive of the space, and his body nearly vibrated with energy.
     If she hadn’t seen the change for herself, several times, she might not have believed it. It seemed more like black magic than psychology.

Monday, May 4, 2015

Wild Thing (Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie / Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan)

Brand-new Rock Star Romance
from USA Today-Bestselling Author Blair Babylon!
The music calls Georgie.

Every night, she stands offstage, watching rock star Xan Valentine and his band, Killer Valentine, set fire to the crowd with music until they would burn down the city for him. His music wraps her until her fingers dance, desperately wanting the piano, but her terrified legs could never walk onto a stage.

Most nights, when Xan Valentine strides off the stage, his dark eyes shift, blurring, and he becomes Alexandre de Valentinois again.

Sometimes, Xan won’t let go.

Some of the other band members, Rade and Grayson, are caught in a death spiral of booze, drugs, and groupies. The drummer, Tryp, is too infatuated with his new wife to do more than show up to play.

Xan is the only one who can compel them onto the stage. He’s holding Killer Valentine together with the force of his will.

This can’t go on.

Something has to break.

Wild Thing
(Billionaires in Disguise: Georgie / Rock Stars in Disguise: Xan)


Pre-Order Here!

Wild Thing is the second book in the Georgie and Xan series.
Haven’t read the first one yet?

Get Every Breath You Take (Book 1) Here:

Excerpt from Wild Thing

Georgie rolled on the bed in the dark, touching Xan’s chest. “It’s freaky, you know, that you can write these beautiful love songs and not believe in love at all.”
“They’re just songs.”
“Who do you sing them to?”
“All the women out there.” He shifted on the bed, crossing his long legs at his ankles.
“But you’re not in love with them.”
He smirked and reached for the package of cigarettes on the nightstand again, but he didn’t pick it up. “No, but they’re in love with me. I say all the right things, and I’ll say them every time they want to hear them. All they have to do is touch their iPod, and I’ll whisper that I’ll love them forever or belt out that I’m longing for them. I never leave my socks under the coffee table or watch sports while they’re doing the housework. I never complain about their figures or that they’re always busy. They can love me like they love God: from afar, with all their hearts, and with no chance of disillusionment. I’m their perfect boyfriend.”
She laid her chin on her crossed arms. “You’re not my perfect boyfriend.”
“No, I’m your demon lover.” He curled a long strand of her hair around his hand. “I summon you to my bed, seduce you in depraved and debauched ways, and abandon you in the morning.”
Georgie grinned. “I take it back. You are my perfect boyfriend.”