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He's a mess...
Asher Knight has three constants in his life: music, beautiful women, and a bottle of Jack. He lives for the next gig, the next city, and dreams only of a life spent in front of an arena full of screaming fans. But Asher's nomad ways come to a sudden stop when he learns he's the father of a three-year-old from a past relationship and suddenly this rock star bad boy is forced to put down roots.
Only she can clean up
Gloria Shields is no one's fool. Sure, the sexual chemistry between her and Asher has always been intense, but she'd never risk giving her heart to a man who has a perfect record for breaking them. Except the man desperate to make things right with his newfound son is nothing like the rock god she's guarded her heart against for years. And it isn't long before she starts to wonder if life with this bad boy might be the best thing that's ever happened to her.
The door swung open and Asher stood on the other side of it, all tall, dark, and sexy wearing a dark gray tank. His tattoos were on display, his torn-at-the-knee jeans slung low and fitting in all the right places. As usual, his wrists were adorned with hemp and leather bracelets, but he only wore a few rings today. Both on his left hand—the hand holding the phone.
He tipped his head, motioning for her to come in, glancing away before she had time to really get pegged by those bourbon-colored eyes. Phew.
“Yeah. I can handle it,” he said into the phone. He strode away from her, barefoot, pant legs frayed, and Gloria’s heart clutched. She hated her heart sometimes. Sure, she appreciated the whole “stay beating so I can live” thing, but where Asher Knight was concerned, her heart veered from its routine and decided to take up tap dancing instead. It was his gelled, sort of shaggy hair and the lazy way his eyes never opened all the way. It was the cross inked on his left arm and his who-gives-a-fuck style.
It was him. All of him.
She’d just have to learn to deal with her hectic-patterned heart because she was here to drop off a check and that was it. There wasn’t any other reason for her to hang out in his house. Especially while he looked so—
He leaned on his kitchen island and she enjoyed the way his jeans showed off his ass. The way he crossed one bare foot over the other. The way he propped his chin on his palm and carried on his conversation…What had she been saying?
Oh, right. Yummy. She’d just have to learn to deal with him looking yummy. It was a fact of life. Like the weather. It was eighty-eight degrees and only nine a.m. and there wasn’t a thing she could do but endure it. She’d have to do the same with him.
A former job-hopper, Jessica Lemmon resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing super-sexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.