Sexy rock god Daxton Cole has everything… and nothing that can bring him peace.Music, whiskey, pills, parades of silicone-enhanced groupies keeping his bed warm at any given time… none of it soothes his wounded soul. The demons always win.
His life is a toxic existence on a permanent loop, like a bad 80s movie.
Sara Russell, the junior publicist hired to salvage his tarnished image, plows into him. Innocent, naïve, and pure, she’s the only one who can piece together what has long been shattered.
But sometimes, when you’re so broken, it’s impossible to become whole again.
And even more impossible to save anyone else.
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A 🌟🌟🌟🌟 Review for Plowed by Kristen Luciani and Rebecca Manuel
Plowed was a delightfully sexy read with a bit of an unexpected twist. Although this story fit the formula for the typical sexy rocker in need of an image fix and the young naïve junior publicist hired to salvage said reputation, the authors did a great job of creating a bit of mystery and intrigue infused into the plot to keep readers on their toes and drive the story, offering a little something different to what was initially expected from this reader.
They also created damaged characters through Daxton Cole, the bad boy rocker with a reputation, and Sara Russell, the junior publicist running from her past and tasked with saving Dax. Their backstories mirrored one another—stories of loss and loneliness—and allowed the two character to find a deeper connection and see past the façade both worked hard to create. The building of their relationship through the missteps and insecurities each faced added to the relationship that blossomed between the two and allowed for each to bring out the best in the other. This was a great story about coming of age, of learning to stand on one’s own, and of learning to live, love, and forgive.
But just wait… There is a bit of sabotage at work, and danger is lurking behind the scenes.
Daxton ran a hand through his tousled, gel-crunched hair and pulled on a Houston Astros baseball cap. “I’m going for a run.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak that language. Come again?”
“I need to clear my head, okay? Buy me some time. I’ll be back.”
“Since when do you run? Don’t you want to get breakfast instead? Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, home fries, coffee?”
“Look, it was a shitty night. I need to get out for a while. Alone.”
“Dude, Merrick is gonna—“
“He’ll deal. I’ll see you later.”
Daxton slid open the tour bus door, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. Nobody in sight. Great, he finally had a chance to escape the questions he couldn’t answer, questions he didn’t even want to acknowledge.
The sun peeked over the clouds as he sank into a hamstring stretch. His muscles were so tight, just like the knot that had taken up residence at the base of his skull. Ironic. Excessive booze normally had the opposite effect. And he’d pretty much drank himself sober after last night’s debacle. How the hell had that guy gotten so close?
He rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to relieve the knot. “Dammit!”
That raspy voice made him jump about twenty feet into the air. Christ, did she know how sexy her voice sounded in the morning? He’d love to hear it waking him up after a very sleepless night infused with lots of carnal pleasures. Oh, fuck yeah.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sara twirled her ponytail around her index finger, a sleepy smile on her face. The soft morning light danced atop her head, half-hooded green eyes making his cock twitch. Shit, even at this ungodly hour of the morning?
“I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”
“Thought you’d escape unnoticed, huh?” Sara smirked. “I’m going for a run. Figured it was my only chance for some peace and quiet before Merrick assigns me his list of errands for the day.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes raked over the curves poured into hot pink spandex, mind unable to formulate a thought beyond peeling her out of those constricting clothes. Immediately, if not sooner.
She grabbed her ankles one at a time, pulling each toward to her perfect ass, stretching her quads. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be by yourself, anyway.”
“So you’re gonna protect me?”
Her pink lips curled into a sly smile. “It’s my job. Now stop procrastinating and move.”
“You’re kind of pushy. Why can’t we ease into it? Nice and slow to start?”
“Nice and slow, huh? Kind of shocking. You don’t seem the type.”
He stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I was talking about running.“
“Sure you were.” She tightened her ponytail. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you sweat out all the alcohol.”
A slow trot increased in intensity much too quickly, and soon, they were circling the arena parking lot at full speed. Focus, focus, focus! His primary objective was not to collapse. A sidelong glance confirmed Sara had barely broken a sweat since they’d started. No words were exchanged, which was a good thing, since he couldn’t catch a single breath. A burning sensation erupted in the pit of his belly, spreading through his lungs, singeing his insides. His legs, now feeling more like Jell-O than actual limbs, were on the brink of revolution. Why didn’t he grab a bottle of water? Panting only made his mouth drier, as if it wasn’t already more arid than the Sahara at midday. Sweat drizzled into his eyes, blurring his vision. How many more times were they going to make this death loop?
Sara pivoted to face him, tiny beads of perspiration glistening along her hairline, the only sign she was exerting herself at all. Jogging backwards. Not even changing her gait. He was a step above pathetic – a very short step.
“How is it that you can’t even make it a mile without looking like you’re about to pass out?”
Great, he needed to speak now?
“It’s not like…I’m…Britney Spears…shaking my ass…all over the stage.” His calf muscles ached as his sneakers pounded the pavement. Bacon, egg, and cheese had been a very delicious alternative, and he opted out for this self-inflicted torture? “I play guitar…and sing…doesn’t require…cardio.” He mopped his face with the edge of the t-shirt. “How the hell…are you…able to do this? I don’t think…your boy…friend is…keeping you…up late…enough.”
Croaking out those last words nearly killed him, for multiple reasons.
“You should really consider traveling with an oxygen mask.” She flipped around, giving him a glimpse of her shapely backside, just about the only thing keeping him going. “And, just so you know, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
“Not your…boy—“ A sharp pain shot through his foot, stopping him mid-stride. “Ahh!” His body rocketed forward, arms flailing, sending him to the pebbly concrete lot with nothing to cushion the blow except his pride.
“Holy crap, are you okay?” Sara fell to the ground where he was writhing in agony, bits of pebble mashed into his skin. “Where does it hurt?”
He let out a loud groan and fell backward. “Fuck. Everywhere!”
“Do you think anything’s broken?” Her hand squeezed his and for the briefest of seconds, the presence of his very intense pain faded, replaced by Sara’s compassion, worry, and genuine concern. Somebody actually cared. That hadn’t happened in…shit, long enough that he couldn’t pinpoint an amount of time. It felt nice. Until the agony crashed over him again like a tsunami.
Sitting up was a struggle, but dammit, he was already hovering on the brink of being a complete and total pansy ass. Ignore the pain. Find out what happened with the boyfriend. Even a fall like that couldn’t quell his curiosity. He had to know, even if he was going to be in traction and unable to do anything about it for the foreseeable future.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
A look of shock flitted across Sara’s face, quickly followed by a snicker. “Wow. Your focus is impressive, even with four potentially broken limbs.” Her playful tone couldn’t mask her nerves, though. She toyed with her ponytail again, normally bright green eyes darkening. “I walked in to find Laney riding him like she was competing for the Triple Crown.”
“Horse racing fan?”
“Yeah, we have a horse farm back home. Raised several thoroughbreds. I always loved to ride.” She averted her eyes, but not before he caught a glimpse of what she’d been trying to shield.
“Minnesota.” She sat back on her heels, eyes still guarded. Conversation over. “So, what do you think? Are you able to hoof it back to the buses?”
“Eli is a fucking idiot.”
A slow smile brightened her flushed face. “Agreed.” She held out a hand. “Come on, let’s see if those legs still work.”
“Are you gonna carry me if they don’t?”
“You don’t pay me enough.”
Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet. “Christ, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.”
Sara snaked an arm around his waist, hoisting him against her. “Take it slow, okay? You said you liked that.”
The scent of citrus wafted into the air between them. So delicious, like a fruit salad. How could she still smell so good after that run? “Yeah…I figured you’d use that against me soon enough.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Looks like we have lots of time to kill before we make it back to camp. Shoot.”
“What happened last night? Who was the guy?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“ How the hell did she even know?
”I’m sure your little groupies love the coy act, but I’ll pass.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Daxton, I’m part of your PR team. It’s my job to know everything that goes on during this tour. Sean from security told me someone approached you. I can’t do damage control without all the facts. Who was he, and what did he want? Or, maybe a better question might be what does he know?”
His face twisted into a grimace with each step. The buses weren’t even in sight. With any luck, they’d make it back by lunchtime. “You ever feel like you’re suffocating? That there’s air all around, but you just can’t breathe it in? Like your body resists what it needs to survive, and you feel like you’re constantly drowning? That’s how I feel most of the time. The air, everything around me – what people see, what they want to believe, judgments they make based on half-truths – it’s all toxic. Better not to inhale. The lesser of two evils, but either way, I’m fucked.”
She nodded, her hair tickling his shoulder. “I do know what you mean.” Her voice was soft, sad. There was something beneath that snarky exterior, something he was desperate to uncover, but her demeanor begged him not to press.
They walked for a few silent minutes that seemed to stretch into hours. He clenched and unclenched his fists as waves of pain assaulted his ankle. “Shit, that hurts.”
“I don’t think you should push it. Let me call Merrick.“
“No.” He stopped, teetering on one leg. “Please. Not yet. Can we just sit down for a minute?”
“Of course.” She eased him to the ground and sank onto the pavement. “Is there anything I can—?”
“The guy from last night said he knew my mother.” Daxton held his head, expelling a deep breath. “She disappeared after my brother died last year, without a trace. Without a warning. One day, she was there; the next, gone. With her clothes, car, jewelry. Everything…gone. My dad made a half-hearted attempt to find her, but I was too angry to try. I’d just lost my best friend, and my mother picked that time to bail. We should have been there for each other, but she didn’t care enough to even say goodbye.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sara grasped his hand. Her skin was so soft against his calloused fingers. It was an occupational hazard for a guitarist.
“I don’t want to have anything to do with her. She abandoned her family. Things between her and my dad were never great, but what the hell did I ever do to her?”
“So you had security get rid of him.”
Kristen Luciani is a self-proclaimed momtrepreneur with a penchant for Christian Louboutins, Silicon Valley, plunging necklines and grapefruit martinis. As a deep-rooted romantic who prefers juicy drama to fill the lives of anyone other than her, she tried her hand at creating a world of enchantment, sensuality, and intrigue, finally uncovering her true passion. No pun intended…