Take Me (One Night with Sole Regret #3)by Olivia Cunning
English | 2020| Romance| ePUB | 2.9 MB
She is one woman he should never touch…
Sole Regret’s enigmatic vocalist, Jacob “Shade” Silverton, is a consummate womanizer, but even he knows better than to get involved with one special woman from his past. Mixing friendship and pleasure can only lead to a broken heart, and he’s suffered enough heartache to swear off relationships for a lifetime.
He is one man she has always desired…
Amanda Lange knows all about Shade’s naughty reputation, but that doesn’t stop her from wanting to dive into the gorgeous rock star’s arms and into his bed. She convinces herself that one night of passion won’t complicate their friendship, but can she convince him of that?
They’re both playing with fire.
Neither of them realized how far one kiss would take them. As the flames of their passion ignite with the intensity of an inferno, will either of them escape the experience without being burned or will both be branded fool enough to take a chance on a relationship that was marked for ruin before it even began?
Shade’s day had just gone from crap to shit. A hollow feeling of disbelief spread from his throat to his chest, and then rage crawled up the back of his neck. He stared at the empty parking spot between Kellen’s Firebird and Owen’s Jeep, trying to comprehend the absence of the ton of steel he’d left there. Shade glanced around the parking lot. Maybe his memory was fuzzy. Maybe he hadn’t parked in his usual space. Two semi-trucks containing Sole Regret’s equipment and stage setup had already been backed into the fenced lot so they’d be ready to head to San Antonio the next day. Their tour bus was on the opposite side of the lot. The band’s drummer, Gabe, was pulling his overnight bag from the luggage compartment beneath the bus. Everyone else—band and crew—was already heading for their vehicles. The only distinctly empty spot on the lot was the one where Shade had parked his favorite toy.
“Okay,” he yelled. “This isn’t funny. Who hid my car?”
“I’m not a rocket scientist or anything,” Kellen said, “but I’d say it’s been stolen.” He tossed his overnight bag into his Firebird’s trunk.
“That’s what you get for being a douche and buying a hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar vehicle,” Owen said with a smirk.
“You should call the cops and report it,” Kellen said. He secured his long black hair at the nape of his neck with a leather strap he’d collected from his bag. Then he opened his car door and said, “I’d stay and wallow in your misery, but I’m late for an appointment.”
Shade knew the feeling. “I don’t have time for this right now,” he said. “I have places I need to be. I’ve already missed my chance to crash Julie’s party, but I don’t want her to think I forgot her birthday entirely.” He tossed his overnight bag on the ground where his car’s trunk should have been. “Fuck!”
“Where’s your car?” Adam paused between Owen and Shade.
Adam was the band’s lead guitarist and in second place on Shade’s shit list, right after whoever had stolen his ride. The three musicians stared at the empty parking spot as if expecting the car to suddenly uncloak itself and come out of hiding.