Title: Tyler & Stella ~ Tattoo Thief 2
Author: Heidi Joy Tretheway
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: February 20, 2014
Synopsis
Stella
Ramsey always says bad boys can’t break your heart. They don’t call, don’t
cuddle and don’t send flowers—but what do you expect? For Stella, no strings
means no regrets.
When the
biggest story of her fledgling career as a music journalist nearly ruins her
relationship with her best friend, Stella has one chance to redeem herself.
Tyler Walsh could be that chance.
Stella
promises the bassist for the rock band Tattoo Thief anything in exchange for
behind-the-scenes access. But Tyler doesn’t want anything. He wants
everything—and that’s more than Stella is prepared to give.
When
Tyler’s explosive secret thrusts Stella into the media spotlight, she must
choose between the selling the story and telling the truth—and exposing the
truth about herself as well.
Tyler
& Stella (Tattoo Thief #2) is a sizzling story of lust, lies, and sacrifice,
revealing how much love can forgive.
Excerpt
First
Kiss
Setup:
After selling a story that nearly ruins her relationship with her best friend,
Stella has to make it right without risking her job as a music reporter. Tattoo
Thief’s bassist, Tyler, offers Stella that chance—an exclusive interview in his
loft, which doubles as the band’s practice space. But throughout the interview,
Tyler’s teasing touches are as confusing as they are enticing.
I can’t tell whether we’re in the Friend
Zone or if it’s something else. He keeps touching me, but it isn’t the lusty
grope I’m expecting. He’s just … touching, and as he massages my feet, I find
myself more and more attuned to his frequency.
I want him. I want to feel his hands on me
beyond my feet—oh, God, does he have a foot fetish? But then, would that mean
he’s into me?
My resolve to keep this
journalist-to-musician interview platonic has drowned in vodka and I’m sure I
have enough notes to form a cohesive story tomorrow.
I pull my feet from Tyler’s hands and scoot
on my knees over to where Tyler sits on the couch.
“That felt fantastic,” I purr, and I throw
one knee across his lap to straddle him. My dress stretches higher on my thighs
and I plant my hands on his shoulders. Tyler stills and I try to read his
expression. “I don’t want you to stop.”
I don’t just mean the foot rub. I stretch
my neck forward to bring my face close to his and I hear his breathing shallow.
I know I have an effect on him and I move even more slowly, savoring it.
But why isn’t he responding? Instead of running
his hands up the back of my thighs or grabbing my ass, his hands are still on
the couch, motionless on either side of my legs.
I ignore Tyler’s hesitation and bring my
lips closer to his, smelling a little beer and maybe basil from our dinner. The
tip of my nose touches his cheek and I pivot my mouth, reaching for his lips.
They’re soft and yielding.
I press deeper into him, my tongue teasing
the corners of his mouth, my breasts pressed to his chest. I hear a noise from
his throat, maybe a groan, but he hesitates. I buck my hips and that’s the last
straw—his hands are suddenly on me, sliding across my back and around my waist
as he pulls me into a breathless kiss.
His lips are hot and hard on mine and I
want to drink him in, devour him. But in the next moment, his hands have
changed course and he’s pulling me away from his mouth.
Wait—what?
“Stella. Hang on here.”
I can see Tyler fighting for control and
I’m struggling to breathe normally too. I’m in his lap, his arms were around me
and I can feel his erection pressing against my very damp panties.
He shouldn’t be pushing pause right now
when every sign points to play. Or fast forward! Even slow-mo, if that’s his
style. But pause?
“Stop,” he commands. My hips are still
moving against him of their own free will.
Oh, God. Stop. That’s the kiss of death.
“Seriously? Stop?” My face is flaming with
humiliation and I climb off Tyler’s lap and grab my shoes, trying to shove them
on my feet as fast as possible. “Whatever you say, Tyler. At least you made up
your mind. You’ve been sending mixed signals all night.”
My voice says I’m angry with him, but I’m
really just mad at myself. First I decided to keep it professional, just do the
story after he’d offered me access. Then his touch lights me on fire and I
throw that very sane plan out the window. Then I have two or three more shots
to further fuck with my resolve.
And then, the foot rub. Tyler has a secret
weapon.
So I’m angry because Tyler pushed me past
my limits, even though I was the one who climbed into his lap. I started that
kiss and he ended it. That should tell you everything you need to know, and it
should tell me to leave him the hell alone.
Tyler’s face darkens and he’s mad that I’m
mad.
“Mixed signals? I was giving you what you
wanted, your story, so that you wouldn’t try to dig into Beryl and Gavin’s life
and get something else on them. Something ugly.”
Tyler’s statement hits me like a slap in
the face. “Is that what you think I’m about?” I hear my voice rise. “That I’m
going to throw my best friend under the bus again?”
Tyler’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper.
“You said it yourself: again. I did
what I thought I should do to protect Gavin.”
My jaw goes slack, realizing Tyler was
playing me to give me the story he wanted me to write, rather than the truth.
I stalk to the kitchen to grab my purse as
angry tears slide down my face. That asshole really had me going. I turn to
look at Tyler, who’s still seated on the couch, his hands buried in his hair.
“Have a nice life, Tyler,” I say, and I
wish I could say something more cutting to make up for how embarrassed I feel.
“I’d say it’s been fun, but I’d be lying.”
My trip down five flights of stairs is slow
and painful as I limp in my stupid shoes and cling to the handrail. I snort up
the snot in my nose from crying—I’m looking super
attractive right now with a night’s worth of mascara sliding down my cheeks.
Damn him. I’ve been in plenty of
compromising situations after getting frisky with a bad boy, but I can’t
remember one quite so humiliating. I can’t remember a time when a bad boy
turned me down.
He
played me.
That’s the thought that sticks in my brain.
I always say, “A bad boy can’t break your heart,” because with them, you’ve got
no expectations. You don’t expect roses. You don’t expect to be wooed or
complimented or spooned. You don’t expect to be called the next day or taken
home to mother.
And that’s what kills me about Tyler. I
assumed he was a bad boy, with his tattoos and devil-may-care rocker attitude.
But then, somewhere along the line, I started to think he was good.
And it bit me in the ass.
***SALE***
TATTOO THIEF is now only .99c/77p!!!
About the Author
Heidi
Joy lives in Happy Valley off Sunnyside Road. She swears she did not make that
up.
Heidi’s
obsessed with storytelling. Her career includes marketing, journalism, and a
delicious few years as a food columnist. Media passes took her backstage with
several rock bands, where she learned that sometimes a wardrobe malfunction is
exactly what the rock star intends.
You’ll
most often find Heidi Joy with her husband and two small kids cooking, fishing,
exploring the Northwest, and building epic forts in their living
room.
She
loves to hear from readers via messages at facebook.com/author.heidi.
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