"Nobody writes inked-up, sexy-as-sin rockers like Kylie Scott!!"
–Emma Chase, New York Times bestselling author
Love Song, an all-new 1001 Dark Nights novella from the sexy as sin Stage Dive series by New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott is available now!
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kylie Scott comes a new story in her Stage Dive series…
There’s always the one that got away. Or kicked you out...
The new darling of rock n’ roll, Adam Dillon, is ready to show his ex-girlfriend, Jill Schwartz, what a mistake she made kicking him to the curb. So maybe he wasn’t the best of boyfriends. Writing great songs and climbing to the top of the charts isn’t easy. Only problem is, he's fast finding out that success isn't everything.
**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
Download your copy today
exclusively on Amazon!
🎸 US 🎸 Worldwide 🎸 Paperback 🎸
Excerpt
“No,” said the bodyguard.
“But—”
“Miss, do you have any idea how many people try to get backstage by claiming they have some sort of relationship with Mr. Dillon?” Face a careful blank, the man in the slick black suit stared down at me. He had a point. I’d pushed through a crush of fans, getting my toes stomped on several times, along with taking an elbow to the kidney, just to talk to this guy. God only knew what it took to get near the star of the show.
“I’d imagine a lot,” I yelled back at him. Necessary given the volume of the music filling the space. “The difference here is I’m not lying.”
“But since everyone says that, you can see from my perspective how that’s not actually a point of difference.”
Adam Dillon, rock star extraordinaire, gyrated his slim denim-clad hips like an Alt-Rock Elvis on the nearby stage. He pouted and crooned about the woman who’d done him wrong. Me. That’s right, I was the big bad ex who’d broken him and woke him to the dangers of love. Or so the song said.
The song lied and then some.
According to the lyrics he was currently wailing, I’d ground his heart beneath my five-inch heels before blowing him a kiss goodbye. From memory, there’d been a lot of shouting, but no blowing of kisses. And having just kicked off the flats I wore for work, I’d been barefoot, my legs and back aching. No way had I been strutting around in stilettos. Home from a hard day at the hair salon, I’d returned to find Adam on the couch. The same place he’d been when I’d left for work approximately eleven hours earlier. The same place he’d been for what felt like months as I worked my ass off to pay the rent. That’s when all hell broke loose. However, it wasn’t the only issue that had caused our relationship to bomb. Nothing’s ever simple.
But back to the here and now. I grabbed the slip of paper out of my front pocket, holding it up for his perusal. “My name is Jill Schwartz. How many of those people claiming to know him have one of these?”
His eyes widened as he scanned the name on the check, before widening again at the amount. And fair enough too. I’d had a mild panic attack myself when it had first arrived. When Adam decided to make a statement, he didn’t bother with subtle. If only I could figure out what it all meant. If it meant anything at all, of course. And that question was what had brought me here tonight.
About Kylie Scott
Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013, 2014 & 2018, by the Australian Romance Writer’s Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages. She is a long time fan of romance, rock music, and B-grade horror films. Based in Queensland, Australia with her two children and husband, she reads, writes and never dithers around on the internet.
Connect with Kylie
🎸 Amazon 🎸 Bookbub 🎸 Facebook 🎸 Twitter 🎸 Instagram 🎸 Goodreads 🎸 Pinterest 🎸 Book+Main 🎸 Website 🎸
🎸 Stay up to date with Kylie by joining her mailing list: http://bit.ly/2TOOivT 🎸
For More information about 1001 Dark Nights Visit
🎸 Facebook 🎸 Instagram 🎸 Website 🎸
🎸 Stay up to date on all 1001 Dark Nights releases, join their newsletter today! https://bit.ly/2zgxaHu🎸
It might have just been me, but we seemed to be standing awfully close together. It almost seemed weirdly intimate. Almost. No, my bad. Ziggy wore his usual professional façade with nary a hint of emotion on display. His gaze was shuttered, his bearing military rigid. It was definitely just me and my overactive imagination. Being vaguely attracted to your bodyguard was kind of a pain in the ass. Not that I couldn’t use the distraction right now.
Ziggy continued to stand there patiently waiting.
“Keys. Right.” I rummaged inside my Balenciaga City bag. Designer goodies were not only a weakness of mine, but a happy perk of being in the industry and achieving some small fame. “Ah, just a minute. They’re in here somewhere.”
I pushed aside my purse, a cashmere shawl, tampons, a candy bar, some loose change, my small Chanel cosmetics case, a power bank, hair ties, pepper spray, a copy of the latest Sarah MacLean book, mints, a spare charging cable for my cell phone, the cell phone itself, Chapstick, Prada sunglasses case, my grandma’s rosary, dental floss, deodorant, a couple of pens, Kleenex, ear buds, water bottle, a USB stick, reusable straw, condoms, nail file, some old receipts, a travel size umbrella, hand sanitizer, lotion, a pair of pearl earrings, tweezers, Advil, a hair band, and some bobby pins.
“Sorry about this,” I murmured. “I know I put them in here when we left.”
He said nothing. A whole lot of nothing.
“Huh.” With a great sense of victory, I held up a bottle of nail polish. “I thought I’d lost this.”
One of his dark brows crept upwards.
“I’ll have you know this color was limited edition. Little Death at Midnight by Oxley. You can’t buy it anymore.”
His lips did not move, but that damn eyebrow arched even higher as he leaned forward a little and took in the contents of my bag. I swear his eyes widened.
“Don’t you judge me. All of these things are necessary for my ongoing existence.”
“Of course they are, miss.” The man was so judging me. Bastard. “You carry a koozie around with you, I see.”
“It pays to be ready to party, Mr. Thayer.”
