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Trusting the Rock Star - eBook

A playboy rock star meets a fiery small town girl.

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★★★★★ Sweet and Sexy! Jasmine is out for a night of fun with her friends when she first sees Kit Jones and his bandmates at a Karaoke Bar. She is not impressed. She thinks all male Rock Stars are womanizers, druggies and egotistical until she goes to work on Monday and finds she has been hired to follow Kit and his bandmates for the next 3 weeks. This was the first book I have read by this author, and definitely won't be the last. A very enjoyable read - Reviewer 4catz4me.


A troubled rock star on the path to destruction.
A small-town girl with something to prove.
Will she give her trust to a man who cannot be trusted?


Could life suck any more?

Not only did I catch my a-hole ex cheating with my own eyes, but now I’m struggling to pay the rent while I’m stuck in an all-consuming job.

When my boss approaches me with the opportunity to photograph international rock star, Kit Jones, while he’s in town, I refuse.

Kit Jones is a womanizer.

He’s arrogant.

And frustratingly handsome.

Exactly the type I swore I’d never fall for.


Escaping New York to record a new single in Seaview was the record label’s idea, not mine.

Actually, it was more of an ultimatum. I guess it was my own fault—bedding most of Manhattan hasn’t exactly cleaned up my image.

As fate would have it, Jasmine, the spirited redhead I’d propositioned in the bar, is now the band’s photographer.

But she doesn’t seem to care about my reputation, except as more fuel to further her disdain for me.

Maybe it’s the blistering Australian heat, but she is the fire to my frozen heart.

Will she dare to trust me?
Or will we both go up in flames?

A rock star romance with all the feels and steam. Guaranteed HEA!



“Come on. Get up, girl!”

Lily yanked me by the arm, jolting me forward out of my seat.

“Not a chance,” I groaned, pulling back. “Why can’t I just sit here with my overpriced cocktail and watch the two of you sing a Lady Gaga song?”

Amber threw her hands in the air, her perfect brows knitted together.

Realizing both my friends wouldn’t relinquish, I blew out a puff of air. “You’re not going to leave me in peace, are you?”

“If you don’t get your cute ass up, Lil and I will make your night a living hell.” A wicked smile spread on Amber’s tanned face.


“We’ll get on stage, then just before the song begins, we yell out Jasmine in the mic. Start a chant around the bar and watch you shrink into the back of your black velvet chair.”

My lips pinched together, imagining my two best friends following through on their threat. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

She gave me a long, decisive nod while Lily laughed and said, “You know it!”

“Well, shit.” I picked up my drink, my nostrils flaring in annoyance. “I’m finishing this first before the ice melts and turns it into a water bath, okay?”

Amber and Lily exchanged satisfied looks. “I think the teenagers are before us anyway. They’re dreaming if they think they can win the karaoke playoffs,” Lily said.

I watched my two best friends assess their competition. “Wow. Competitive much?”
With her sequined top, strawberry-blonde hair, and huge blue eyes, Lily was born to be on stage, and Amber, with her tasseled cowboy boots, was slightly less in your face. And by slightly less, she wasn’t shining like Halley’s Comet.

I sipped on my margarita, savoring the expensive cocktail. It went down like a dream and immediately had me sinking into my seat, feeling relaxed.

“Why were you so late tonight?” Lily asked.
I curled my finger around the stem of my glass. She knew why I was late. Why I was always late. Being a photographer for a newspaper was all last-minute. They knew that. Being on call was something I was used to and something they’d probably never understand.

“Was there some juicy tidbit photo you just had to snap?” Amber toyed with the straw of her drink, her eyebrows raising into a question.

“I hate to disappoint you, girls, but there was nothing salacious about my day. Unless you call taking photos of grannies at a nursing home riveting.”

She laughed. “Oh, right.”
“The paper is writing a story on the mistreatment of the elderly in certain nursing homes in Queensland. It’s actually a pretty dire situation.” I wanted to elaborate but was distracted by the sopranos on stage. Over the microphone, a few female voices chirped Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.”

“Can they at least pick something not so predictable?” Lily wrinkled her nose, dismissing the girls as competition.
I followed her gaze to the girls on stage. They actually weren’t half bad. I tugged on my straw, trying to get every last drop of my drink. But I’d need more to quell the nerves settling in my stomach than the one cocktail. Unfortunately, my bank account balance didn’t agree.

“Is Fred still paying you minimum wage?” As though reading my thoughts, Lily shifted her attention from the sopranos on stage to me.
With a one-sided smile, I nodded. “With my car repairs this week, I barely covered rent,” I sighed, casting my gaze vacantly toward the crowds of people in the bar.

“I nearly had to bail your cute ass out again!” Amber added.

“Again? That was only one time, and I paid you back two weeks later!” I cried out, raking my hands down the waves of my hair and regretting the one time I’d asked her for help.

Amber and I have lived together in the tiniest two-bedroom apartment in Seaview since I dropped out of college two years ago. It was quaint, eclectic, and perfectly located opposite Seaview Beach.

“Why don’t you just ask for a pay raise?” Lily pleaded. “You’re the best photographer I know.”
I put my empty drink on the table, wishing I could order another. Amber and Lily didn’t get it. The hours I did with the newspaper were standard—the long weeks, overnighters, and overtime. Did I love it? Fuck, no. Did I love photography? More than anything, but unfortunately, the pay sucked. Or maybe it was because I’d still been on the same pay rate since starting at the newspaper.
I bit the inside of my cheek and shrugged my shoulders.

“One day, I will. It’s just not the right time now.”
Thankfully, the applause from the crowd drowned out any more questions about my sucky job, and the girls diverted their attention toward the stage.
The scantily-clad girls finished their song and together took a rehearsed bow while the large crowd from Seaview cheered in their alcohol-induced state.

Seaview’s popular karaoke competition, Drop the Mic, was a major attraction each Thursday night, and we’d been coming for years. And I might add, had never won.

“Thank fuck for that.” Amber flicked her shoulder-length brown hair.

“Give them a break,” I added, wishing I had that level of confidence to get up on stage.
Amber tilted her head to the side. “Who? The teeny boppers?”

“They weren’t that bad,” I remarked.

“Um, they sounded like three Barbies high on helium!”

Lily and I burst into laughter. “Come on! It takes guts to get up there.”

Amber folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t even think about backing out now, Jazzie.”

I dragged my arms across my chest, mirroring her. “I’m not,” I snapped.

“So, who’s up next in Seaview’s famous Drop the Mic competition?”
The DJ’s voice echoed throughout the venue, where wooden bar tables stood atop beer-soaked maroon carpet. White spotlights panned left and right through the audience and toward the bar at the rear.
Apprehension knocked loudly in my ribcage with each second that ticked past.

“We’re next. I’m sure we are.” Lily squealed like a sixteen-year-old girl rather than her twenty-two-year age.
“Wait. Hold up. This must be a mistake.” I looked up to find the DJ reading a note he’d just been handed. DJ Pauly J–the best we had in the small town– scratched at his receding hairline, surprise set across his face.
The curiosity in his tone sent a hush over the audience. His gaze flickered frantically between the note in his hands and the audience as though he was searching for someone.
“Four Fingers? Can you take the stage?”

Gasps from the crowd came thick and fast.
“What? No way!” Lily’s eyes widened to the size of golf balls, and I could barely make out what she was saying, let alone understand what was happening with the shrieks bursting from the crowd.

“This has to be a setup. Nothing exciting ever happens in Seaview. Amber gripped the armrests on her seat, snapping her head around quicker than a roadrunner.

A spotlight flashed around the room, looking for someone, then finally landing on a face fit for an Annie Leibovitz photo shoot.

“There! No friggin’ way! It is them,” Lily yelled over the rowdy crowd.

“There’s Kit, Jamie, and Ryan! They’re here, in Seaview.” Amber and Lily shot up out of their chairs. I stood, curious to see what all the commotion was about.
Three muscly men strode toward the stage like they owned the place. Security held back the now-explosive crowd tripping over one another to touch them.

“That’s Ryan,” Amber marveled, pointing to a muscular guy with spiky blond hair dressed in a checkered flannel shirt, tight ripped jeans, and carrying a blue electric guitar.

“And that’s Jamie,” Lily added with a sigh.
Jamie traversed through the crowd holding a guitar, wearing a New York Knicks cap with unruly black hair escaping from beneath it.

The crowd swarmed and chanted the name Kit over and over.
Kit? Where had I seen that name?
The spotlight remained on the man, presumably Kit, who stood tall, soaring above the crowd. Tattoos covered one of his toned arms to his wrist, where layered leather bracelets and a gold leather watch reflected the light.

Dark, perfectly kept stubble covered his angular face and square-set jaw. A sudden rush of warmth spread between my thighs, taking me by surprise.
People begged to touch him like he’d cure some disease as he sidestepped to the front of the stage, shouldering his guitar. From here, up close, I studied him. His eyes were hazel and huge, even with half his dark brown hair draped across his cheeks.
Then it clicked. It wasn’t like I didn’t know my bands. I’d just been living in a work bubble for the last two years. But I most definitely had heard about Kit.

Kit Jones.

Player of Players. Every headline imaginable in the last year had featured the one and only Kit Jones. I wasn’t sure if anyone had had more bad PR than him. But sitting here, you wouldn’t know it, especially with women begging to have his babies.

Okay, so he was eye candy with corded arms, sheathed in tan, muscular skin. A girl could look and not completely fall over herself.

“They’re pretty well-known, aren’t they?” I asked over the now overly excited crowd. A girl from out of town turned and glared at me as if I’d just killed her favorite pet.

“What?” I shrugged. Fixing my stare on her, she eventually turned back around.

“Four Fingers is an Australian band with three-high school friends who exploded into the charts worldwide. They are a national treasure!”

Amber didn’t bother looking at me when she spoke. Instead, she followed the guys’ every move as they set up on stage.

“Tell me you’ve heard of their number one hit, “Another Day?” Lily popped an accusatory eyebrow.

“Another Day?” Seriously, who knew the name of songs? I only knew the melodies.

“Of course I have!” I bit back, and she rolled her eyes, knowing I was lying. “Why are they in Seaview anyway?”

“Who knows, who... who cares!” Lily yelled. “Oh my God. We have to introduce ourselves.” Her words tumbled over each other she spoke so quickly.

“Ah, no, we don’t.” I let out a strained laugh. “Anyway, isn’t that their security?” Two burly guys cloaked in black surrounded the front of the stage, shielding the band from crazy fans who were hurling themselves forward. If we weren’t in a small-town pub, it looked like a scene from a sold-out rock concert. Every person was a fan, screaming their names in excitement.

Fuck, from where I was sitting, it wouldn’t surprise me if flying underwear came out of nowhere and hit me in the face.

I zeroed in on the singer, Kit. His pretty-boy face certainly had graced the covers of international magazines. And no doubt, several underwear advertisements, the way his white V-neck clung across his broad shoulders and herculean chest.

“Hey, Seaview, how ya doing tonight?” Kit asked, yelling over the crowd.
I don’t know where they came from, but swarms of people rushed forward, dissolving any room we previously had in our seating area at the front of the stage.

I turned to a woman who’d practically crashed into my knees to get a better view. “Really?”

“Kit, I love you!” she yelled to the stage, completely ignoring me.

“You too, sugar!” Kit’s gaze drifted down, landing squarely on me. He smiled a lopsided grin, then tossed me a wink.
I swallowed when his eyes connected with mine. It wasn’t me! He’d already shifted his focus to the stool next to him, throwing back his beer.
Kit took the lead with the two guitarists in the back. “Bear with us as we try to perform without our drummer,” Kit said.

The crowd squealed in response to him just speaking again. Fools. Overtaken by men and women climbing to get a better view, our table was their standing board. I shuffled to the side and remained seated, annoyed by the intrusion of our girls’ night, although Lily and Amber didn’t seem bothered. They were now on their feet, joining in with the other fans.
His captivating voice cut through the audience’s cheers as they began playing. The song was cool—soft rock and pop fused together—a kind of mashup of John Mayer and Coldplay.
I listened to the verse. The lyrics weren’t as corny as I’d expected, and for a moment, I wondered who Kit might be singing about.
Picking up my phone, I flickered my attention between my emails and the three muscly-tatted guys on stage. When I glanced up, his huge brown eyes met mine, and his stare lingered. My skin tingled as my pulse quickened. I reverted my eyes down to the safety of my emails.
“Was he just staring at you?” I looked up to find Lily’s wide blue eyes staring back at me.
I blinked a few times, his stare completely throwing me off guard. “No way,” I huffed out, tossing my red hair over my shoulder and thanking the Lord it was dark, so she couldn’t see the warmth flooding my cheeks. I looked down at my phone momentarily, then quickly glanced up, but he wasn’t staring anymore. Grazing my bottom lip, I continued to scroll through my phone, trying to focus on the barrage of emails coming through from my boss, Fred.
One after another, I flicked through them as the band played their song. Then their song finished with a guitar strum, and the audience cheered and applauded as if on cue.
A chant started, “More, more, more…” But Kit shook his head.
“We just came off a flight from New York City, so just the one tonight, guys!”
He shouldered his guitar, and the other two guys followed him off the stage. Security held back the hundred-plus-strong crowd who pushed against them.
“That was so unreal,” Lily exclaimed, sweat beading on her brow.
“He was staring at you, Jazzie!” Amber added, pointing at me with a knowing glare.
I shook my head and swatted away the thought. He probably had a million girls at his beck and call.
“Yeah, he was. You could so go there. I’ve heard he sleeps with anything that walks.” Lily giggled.
“Gee, thanks!”
“No, I didn’t mean it—”
“Lily is right. You’ve just come off a bad breakup with Ajax. There’s no harm in having some mind-blowing sex with Kit Jones.”
Thanks for the reminder, Amber. “Yeah. Ah. No, thanks.” I wasn’t a prude, but I certainly wasn’t a one-night-stand girl.

The DJ’s voice boomed through the speakers. “How amazing were they? Give it up for our surprise guests this evening, international sensations, Four Fingers!”
Applause filtered through the karaoke bar as the crowd slowly dispersed and turned back into normal human beings again rather than horny girls.

“Sorry, guys, for obvious reasons, you will be excluded from the karaoke competition,” added DJ Pauly, and laughter erupted over the applause.
“So, on to our next contenders. We have Amber, Lily, and Jazzie!”
Oh, fuck me.

“That will be a hard act to follow, but let’s do it.” Lily pulled my arm, and I reluctantly let her drag me onto the stage. Lily had forged forward, letting go of my hand, and perched herself on the stool in the center. Amber sat beside her, clutching the microphone, and I hovered toward the empty seat, my heart thudding loudly in my chest.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed in the audience, and the stage lit up like New Year’s Eve.
“I’m going to kill you, Lily,” I whispered. I lifted my hands out of my lap, wrapping them around the cold steel of the microphone.

“Smile. We can win the ten-K,” she said without moving her mouth. All she needed was a doll, and she could double as a ventriloquist.
Amber leaned behind Lily and flashed me a smile. “Just don’t sing too loudly.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, but as soon as I spoke, the music started reverberating through the speakers.

I tilted the microphone slightly so it wasn’t too close to my mouth and hovered in the background while the other two took center stage.

“Poker Face” by Lady Gaga blasted through the speakers just as the lyrics slid across the LCD screen. Lily hit all the right notes, and Amber created harmony. I sang like a howling dog.
Now for the chorus.

When is this over? I swear this is the last time.
The lights rotated and lit up the audience. Dead ahead, Kit stood leaning against the bar ledge, sipping his drink while his eyes bore into mine.

Fuck, what’s his deal? My cheeks flushed, matching my red hair. Breaking contact, I gazed up, pleading for divine intervention to knock out the power. Instead, I was instantly rendered sightless by the glaring stage lights.

Fuck my life.

"Hey there, pretty lady." My rock star boss sat outstretched in stone washed jeans and a fitted V-neck sky blue tee that accentuated his sunkissed triceps. Chains around his neck hung like prized possessions, and his brown eyes sucked the air straight from my lungs.

"That's you, by the way," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Ah thanks." I quickly took my seat in the iron chair.

"You don't take compliments well, do you?"

"If I'd known I would be the one interviewed, I might have passed up on dinner." I sat tall and squared my shoulders.

A pause stretched out between us as he held my gaze. "I doubt that."

I exhaled, "Do you always get what you want?"

"Not always."

I couldn't help but notice a sadness in his voice.

"Surely, everyone just bows down to you.."

His face met mine, contorting into a whimper of a smile.

"Most do. But you, Ms. Winters, you are something else..." he said, his voice turning to gravel.

★★★★★ Trusting the Rockstar by a new author new to me, Missy Walker is a fantastic story of a jaded Rockstar and a photojournalist. The story is told with a fresh point of view with humor, real family issues, and two hearts learning to trust each other. Can they overcome fans, media, and unexpected circumstances to have a HEA? This is a book that needs to be read! - Reviewer K1terriw


❤️ Rock Star Romance

❤️ Small Town Romance

❤️ Forced Proximity

❤️ Playboy


✔️ Trusting the Rockstar - eBook


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What’s Your Desire?

Whether it be enemies-to-lovers or forced proximity, Missy Walker’s bundle has you covered. Hear from Missy herself about her favorite tropes!

Why you need these books.

There are hundreds of spicy authors out there, but only one Missy Walker. These stories are unique because they are born not just from her imagination but also from the real-life fantasies of her readers. So why invite her into your bedroom?

Forbidden Romance: Meet the taboo men of your dreams through your favorite literary tropes.

Sexy Encounters: Enjoy intricate details of those secret meetings that keep you up at night.

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Trusting the Rock Star - eBook

$7.00 $9.00

"Hey there, pretty lady." My rock star boss sat outstretched in stone washed jeans and a fitted V-neck sky blue tee that accentuated his sunkissed triceps. Chains around his neck hung like prized possessions, and his brown eyes sucked the air straight from my lungs.

"That's you, by the way," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Ah thanks." I quickly took my seat in the iron chair.

"You don't take compliments well, do you?"

"If I'd known I would be the one interviewed, I might have passed up on dinner." I sat tall and squared my shoulders.

A pause stretched out between us as he held my gaze. "I doubt that."

I exhaled, "Do you always get what you want?"

"Not always."

I couldn't help but notice a sadness in his voice.

"Surely, everyone just bows down to you.."

His face met mine, contorting into a whimper of a smile.

"Most do. But you, Ms. Winters, you are something else..." he said, his voice turning to gravel.

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