This author brings a lot to the table, and let me just say... she sets the bar high when it comes to motivating me, personally, to step up my own game, just so I won't embarrass her in public. I hope she doesn't run and hide when I tell people I know her.
Nah, surely not. LOL!
I'm so glad she's here today and even happier she's sharing one of her many books with us now...
Thanks, Robin, for having me! I'd like to share the blurb and excerpt for my coming release Rhapsody.
Nevaeh Harris finally has her chance. Two albums in a row she’s worked with Crimson Rage’s lead guitarist. From his perfectly styled hair to the faded jeans and tee’s he sports, she’s become his number one groupie fan. The only problem is, he doesn’t notice her jaw dropping every time he enters the same room as her. Her age and weight are issues she must face in order to drum up enough courage to get his number.
Wade ‘Garrick’ Stevens is psyched to work on the newest cover for his band mates. They have a vision that only one sexy graphic artist can bring to life. The last two sold goldmines thanks to her brilliance. Also more than just professional appreciation is happening in their working environment, there's personal chemistry, which suits him just fine. Years younger than her, he plans to convince her on one date she’s the perfect harmony for his lyrics. He’s sure sparks will ignite.
A guitarist and an artist, two souls meant to collide. Will outside opinion fade into the distance or destroy them before they have a chance.
Nevaeh Harris muted the resident dickweed’s voice from her section. From the moment she set foot into the conference room, Jed’s under-his-breath barbs about her weight and the snickers from his group of lackeys set her teeth on edge. Whoever dubbed the phrase, ‘Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you,’ was a damn liar or suffered from a heavy dose of denial. For years she swallowed the hurt caused by close-minded individuals, who knew nothing of genetics. Their unprovoked lack of professionalism reminded her, she was the better person.
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall…on down helped her to maintain a semblance of composure—not letting them know they got to her. Perhaps that’s what his kind got off on. Not the actual cruelty spewed from their mouths or the hate they perpetuated, but the response garnered from their victims.
But they were of little consequence now. A master’s degree in art and minor in marketing, plus a little maneuvering to get her resume seen by the right people landed her a job that granted her access to Wade.
Wade Garrick Stevens, known as ‘Wade Stevens’ in the music industry. The young genius guitarist for Crimson Rage possessed all the attributes she loved in a man. Charm, warm eyes, humor and for someone in the limelight, an unnatural but appreciated humility. His lean physique made her stomach flop whenever he commanded a room. At times, when he sat near her, his knee just barely bumping hers, she wished she could gather the nerve to really speak to him. She’d worked on the last two album covers and promotional art for his band and hoped to stay on for the long haul.
Lustful thoughts turned to dust. A man like him, she’d never have a chance. Four or five sizes smaller, sure. The media always had him paired up with some model or last she’d heard heiress to a racing team. In these times she envied her siblings. How her two younger sisters ended up being size petite zeros and she a solid size ten—at the bottom half of her hips and all—she’d never understand. By some screwed twist of fate she ended up last in the gene pool.
Better a fat-ass than a fucktard. Biting back the aggravated snark on the tip of her tongue sucked. Nevaeh clicked her teeth and slid none too gracefully past her co-workers to an open seat at the conference table.
Opening her portfolio, she set the new designs on top of the leather casing. This time she had the foresight to slip them into plastic sleeves, in case of an ‘accident’. Years of hard work taught her mistakes such as liquid sloshed over her drawings were intentional. The last fake apology out of Alishia’s mouth didn’t contain an ounce of sincerity or a grain of remorse. Instead, after Wade left, the whispers of Nevaeh fawning over him grew into a huge joke. Star-struck, she’d lost her ability to speak and when she could all that came out were stammers, and knocking his drink into his lap had certainly not helped any. In her attempt to make things right, she vigorously blotted the wet area of his crotch with napkins. In the end the discomfort caused her to leave the room.
“Sorry I’m late.”
There he was in the flesh. With his designer shades and that cologne that made her want to daydream even more about just sniffing him.
“We haven’t started yet.” Jed spoke up and passed down the paperwork needing his signature.
“It’s all good. I don’t expect this meeting to be a long one. Nevaeh.”
Jasmine kicked her under the table. “What?”
“Over here. Hey how are you today doll?”
“Uh.” God you’d think the enamored nitwit in her would’ve took a hike after the second time working together. Turning bright red she slammed her mouth shut and just gawked.
“What a wannabe.”
The whispered barb reached Wade’s ears. She could tell from the scowl that came across his face. Wonders would never cease, apparently he had good hearing—loud rock music and all. “Do you have something to add Jed?”
“Sorry. It was a joke is all.”
“Frankly I don’t give a damn. Keep your jokes to yourself.”
He said again and this time she actually smiled at him.
“Garrick or did you forget?” He smiled openly at her. Surreptitiously she glanced around to see if he was smiling at someone else.
“Garrick.” The sound of his middle name used by precious few rolled off her tongue. When she looked back at him a flicker of something crossed his face, so faint it was gone before she could tell if the flash was of desire or a figment of her imagination.
“Did you bring me the printed designs?”
“Yes. They’re right here.” She leaned over and handed the sleeves to him. “I hope you they’re what you want.”
“You’ve never let me down before doll.” He winked and leaned back in the leather wing back chair to glance over them.
“What about the new backdrops? The new special effects for the upcoming tour? The roadies want an update.” Wade leaned forward and put the cover art designs on the table.
Nevaeh knew the design team was behind because they couldn’t retrieve their heads from their asses and do their job. She reached inside her portfolio and withdrew staging designs made to scale on her graphics software and a DVD of how she envisioned their new tour. “I have some extra samples for you. It’s nothing really I was just playing around with some thoughts.”
“Anyone else do their job around here?” Of all the band members to piss off, Garrick was the worst. His family came from money. Not old money. No, his father built their brand brick by brick with hard work and sweat, attaining status and prestige in a way that the born rich envied. The next generation, he and his siblings, all learned the trade at his elbow. And while rumors ran amok of his father’s disappointment in how his first born quote ‘dabbled’ in music instead of heading up one of their offices, no one could discount that Wade took after his father.
Exposure to the ruthless and iron clad way his pops ran his business rubbed off on Wade, in more ways than one way. His intelligence and the way he ran a tight ship for his label gave him credence where due and respect from many in the music industry. Wade always meant what he said and the innuendo, well that went without saying. Nevaeh couldn’t help but to smile at their discomfort.
“We’re almost done tweaking our concept for you.” Jed motioned for the disc.
“We’re all one team right? Does it matter where the ideas originate from? Or the end result?” Nevaeh rounded on them. Their attitudes needed changing and it was high time someone called them on it—or fired them and hired individuals who wanted to do their damn jobs without being babysat. She knew how much he disliked unfinished deadlines. If she hadn’t known the software, she’d have bought a new program and spent all her spare time learning—to please Wade if no one else.
“Thanks doll. Would you mind stepping outside for a moment? I’d like to speak to the tech team in private.”
“Sure.” She pushed back her chair and stood up. Daggers were cast her way as she wiggled past Wade to get to the door. In the other room she attempted to hear what he was saying, but he spoke in his lower tone. Meaning heads were about to roll. Serves the assholes and bioches right for not putting the band first. For all their complaining they seemed to forget the fame and fortune of the band was what paid their overly large salaries. Not to forget the extra bonuses he gave out for appreciation of their time.
For Wade, she’d do the work for free. Following the band for years gave her insight on their growth both as a band and as individuals. She knew most of them on a base level, enough to gauge what was in and out. Hands in pocket, she leaned against the wall waiting to return to the room.
Hushed voices became louder. Wade’s voice rattled on and then absolute silence filled the air.
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