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About the author:
Alyson Hale is a naughty little minx who lives in an undisclosed location in the American South. Her weaknesses are rock stars, military men, and alpha males. If your significant other gets laid after reading one of her books, she feels like she’s done her job right. Follow Aly if you love wall-of-muscle, well-endowed book boyfriends who make you weak at the knees!
What inspired you to write your book?
I love rock music and I live in the American South. British culture has always fascinated me as well, so I sort of married all of that and came up with this series.
Here is a short sample from the book:
My shoulders are hunched when I walk out of the bathroom of the pub, dreading my first day of work. I’m very self-conscious about the way my strapless bra supports—or rather, un-supports—my breasts. The girls are bouncing beyond control, but there’s nothing I can do about it. My uniform shirt hangs off my shoulders. I have no way of wearing a strapped bra without everyone seeing it.
I check in with Stephen in the back, who doesn’t bother training me—he just immediately throws me to the wolves. I’m given a pen, a pad, a menu, and a list of draft beers to memorize, and a mere thirty minutes to prepare before my shift officially begins. Sneaking off to the side, I sit down in a conference room off the hallway to browse the menu before I have to go explain it to customers. Luckily, I’ve been to this place several times with Alex, so it’s not too terribly foreign to me, but I’m having trouble remembering some of the specifics.
Using the pen and pad, I jot down a cheat sheet of information for myself until I’m able to take these things home and memorize them. The thing I’m having the most trouble with is the beer menu. I’m more of a martini and margarita kind of girl. I don’t like the taste of beer at all. Having to remember so many different types, strengths, colors, and tastes of beer is enough to make my head spin without having any alcohol in my system. I’m going to have to taste all of these so I can advise the customers. I’m not gonna enjoy it, but I’ll have a much harder time if I don’t.
When I’m finally ready to face my hell of a first day, I hear loud, high-pitched giggling in the hallway. I get up and open the door and find Ingrid and another girl—a thin, tanned blonde girl—whispering to each other right in front of me. They startle when I step up beside them.
“What’s going on?” I tuck my notepad into the back pocket of my tan shorts and stick the pen in the space between my ear and my hair.
Ingrid leans down to whisper in my ear, grinning. “You’re never going to believe who just walked in our front door.”
“Jace. Freakin’. Hawthorne! And the whole band,” she squeals.
My heart slams to a screeching halt in my chest. “What?”
“Filthy Bangers is here. We’re going to have to serve them all drinks.”
My entire head drains of blood. “You’re messing with me, right?”
“We’re not, I swear!” The other girl shrieks with excitement, gripping Ingrid’s arm for dear life.
“Okay, whatever.” I chuckle, shaking my head. These girls really think I was born yesterday. I’ve been a freshman in high school. I know the drill. The new kid gets hazed on the first day. Whatever. They’re not going to fool me this easily.
“Kyri, seriously. Look!” Ingrid points down the hallway to the front of the pub.
At first I don’t see him, but then she pulls me in front of her, and I spot the Jace Hawthorne heading toward the bar—all six foot two inches of him. My knees turn to jelly underneath me. He’s in a black collared shirt with rolled up sleeves—showcasing his beautiful wall of tattoos on his left forearm—and a pair of jeans that hugs his hips like they were custom tailored to his body. His dark wavy hair is perfectly tousled as usual. Even from here, I can hear his rich, velvety voice that sends chills running down my spine and makes things clench down below. The sexy British accent magnifies the effect to the point where I can actually feel my panties dampening.
It’s true. The hottest rock singer on earth is here, getting a beer in our pub.
“What the hell are they doing here?” I mutter. Even though Jace is my favorite, I have to admit his bandmates are fucking studs, too. But I can’t imagine what force on earth would drag them to a small Georgia town just outside Atlanta while they’re not on tour.
“Ladies, what are you doing huddled back here when we have important guests?” Stephen appears behind us, agitated, and shoos us toward the dining area. “Go serve them, now, before they leave without sampling our draft menu.”
“But I can’t serve the Bangers!” Ingrid wails, and the other girl agrees with her. They both tremble in their shorts. Funny, I figured they’d both be the aggressive type, not the kind of people who shy away from the chance to serve hot, famous guys.
“I’ll do it,” I volunteer, even though my heart is pounding in my throat from nerves. I don’t remember half of the beers on the menu right now. Thank God I have my cheat sheet stashed away in my pocket.
Stephen pushes me forward, and I nearly lose my balance. My knees knock together…or rather, squish together. This is one time I’m glad I have thunder thighs. Otherwise, everyone in the pub could hear me shaking from nerves.
I walk around behind the bar for the first time, taking a deep breath before I address the band. My God. I’ve never felt so much testosterone in one ten-foot radius before. It’s suffocating, yet exhilarating.
As I approach him, Jace’s deep amber eyes lock with mine, and I nearly lose my composure. His raw fire and tenacity is trained on me. The hunger in his eyes makes me think he might want to devour me alive. A corner of his mouth pulls up in amusement. Surprising me, he reaches his hand over the counter to shake my hand.
“Jace Hawthorne. Nice to meet you, Kyri.”
“What?” As soon as our hands meet, electricity pulses up my arm and tingles throughout my entire body. Jace must have felt it too, because he jerks back a little, not letting go of my hand. “How do you know my name?” I’m not even wearing a name tag yet.
“That’s my little secret, sweetheart.” He grants me a wink, causing my heart to nearly flutter right out of my chest. “I’ll have a local ale, please. Whatever you recommend.”
Fucking shit. He would ask for a recommendation on my very first night.
Luckily, the bartender, Pete, overheard us. He’s got a green mohawk, gauges, and multiple piercings, but he also has very kind eyes and a smile that puts you at ease. He pipes up over his shoulder as he’s refilling the beer fridge, “See The Stars is brewed an hour away in Athens. You can’t beat it.”
Keeping his fierce eyes trained on me, Jace responds, “Perfect. I’ll have the biggest mug you’ve got.”
Suddenly losing my ability to respond, I nod and move down to the next guy in the line—Eddie, the bassist. They all end up telling me they want the same thing Jace is having, so I take out four frosted mugs and have my first experience with filling up a glass with beer. After seeing me struggle with one of the nozzles, Peter comes over and holds the mug at an angle, showing me how to form a good foam on the top without letting it overflow or not filling it enough. Once I’ve got four beautiful mugs of See The Stars, I turn around and find Jace glaring at me, then glancing suspiciously at Peter.
I immediately start questioning myself on what I did wrong. Is there too much foam? Not enough?
Crap. I can’t handle this much stress. Maybe this isn’t the job for me after all.
“H-here you go.” I manage to deliver their beers without incident and can’t help but watch Jace as he takes a swig. The way his lips wrap around the rim of that mug and his Adam’s apple pulls up and down as he swallows…God, he is just so perfect. He has the face of an angel and the growl of a wolf in his voice. I could spend all night staring at him.
“Can I get you any a-appetizers?” I manage.
“Two orders of the buffalo wings, sweetheart.” The guy on the far side away from Jace flashes a winning pearly grin at me. I recognize him as Damien, the lead guitarist. Where Jace’s stare was probing and laser-focused, Damien’s is sinful and impish. “If you’ve got extra breasts, I’ll take those too.”
Judging from the heat rising up my neck, I’d estimate my cheeks are about the shade of hot Mexican salsa right now. Unconsciously, I pull my arms up over my breasts, which only makes my cleavage deeper and causes his tongue to flick over his lips with hunger.
“Coming right up.” Grateful for the excuse to book it out of there, I head back to the kitchen to put in my very first food order.