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Love Divided (Infinity Prism Series Book 4)
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Baker, Stella Markus is running on empty after keeping up with the demands of co-owning ‘Lick the Bowl’ bakery. When her best friend invites her to Aspen for a getaway, she jumps at the chance. She soon finds out a secluded cabin during a blizzard and her friend’s gorgeous older brother, who just happens to be Infinity Prism’s bass guitarist, could be the recipe for disaster.
Her panties threaten to combust whenever Colton is near, but his hot and cold reaction reminds her they are from two very different worlds.
Infinity Prism bass guitarist, Colton Bailey has it all. Fame, money and any woman he wants. Until he rescues his little sister’s best friend during a snowstorm and finds that she’s all grown up… and off limits. He tries to keep his distance, knowing it’s for the best, but he’s determined to get her right where he wants her. His bed, his arms… his life.
Scorching desire, chemistry off the charts and sizzling heat prove that one taste will never be enough.
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Colton Bailey was a rock star god. He knew it.
And he didn’t give a fuck.
Being the bass guitarist for Infinity Prism was Colton’s claim to fame, but it was also his pride and joy. He took his work seriously and labored tirelessly in the studio and in front of his pen and paper while creating new masterpieces. His fingers on both hands were calloused from years of strumming through thick guitar strings. He poured his heart and soul out onto the stage and appreciated each screaming fan shouting his name from the crowds and waving arms in the pits.
If there was one thing his father had taught him over the years, it was to work hard but play harder. There was a time and a place for both, but if you balanced both in a manageable way, you could achieve true peace and joy.
Tonight was going to be one of those peak times. Walking through his parent’s mansion, his ultimate goal for tonight was to have an absolutely epic time. He had the sprawling log mansion to himself and a few of his friends.
“I want people to be talking about this party for years,” he told his band mate and best friend, Lucas Smith. Walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows, he joined his friend there and looked out over the vast canyon of pines high atop the Aspen, Colorado Mountains.
Lucas was peering out the window nostalgically with his hands stuffed deep into his khaki pants. He turned around when Colton approached him and chuckled. “You say that about every party you throw.”
“And I mean it every time.”
Colton ran a hand through his hair. His bandmates called him serious. A hardass. Temperamental. What they also knew is that he wanted perfection, and he never gave up on something he wanted. He liked to call himself relentless. It fit. He didn’t do anything without tenacity; his parties were no different. He enjoyed throwing parties, mostly because it gave his guests time to relax and have fun. He didn’t relax very often, even in down times he had a hard time letting himself unwind. But to watch everyone enjoy themselves and know he was the cause? It made him feel good.
Not so hollow. Or emotionless. Growing up with a trauma surgeon and plastic surgeon for parents taught Colton early to do what needed to be done and keep emotions out of it. They were always too busy to show him otherwise.
Lucas leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands over his middle. “You do have a way of wowing the crowds, buddy.”
Lucas was a guitarist in the band, backing for lead guitarist and lead vocalist Trevor Jameson who was within earshot to eavesdrop on the conversation.
“Stop trying to outdo yourself, man,” Trevor called out from the couch. He had his prized oak guitar in his lap and he was fervently tuning it, strumming the strings every so often to get the sound just perfect.
“Why? What the hell else do I have to do with my free time?” Colton spun to face him. Nothing. The answer was nothing.
His friends looked at him, their expression saying neither was willing to argue. They knew better.
“Whatever,” Trevor shrugged. “As long as the food and beer are good, who cares.”
Colton grinned at his friend. “I always knew you were smart.” He walked over to Trevor and gave him an animated high five that left a lingering sting on his flattened palm.
The doorbell rang a few seconds later. It had better be the damn bartender he’d hired—who was thirty minutes late.
He went to the foyer and swung open the door. A rattled looking man in a tuxedo, with a nametag that read, ‘Tommy’ on his left chest, gave an apologetic grimace. He adjusted his bowtie, a move that irritated Colton. Who the hell wore a bowtie anymore?
“You’re late.” He didn’t hide the irritation he was feeling.
“I’m so sorry,” the man said, palms facing outward.
“You should have started setting up already,” Colton said. “You’re running out of daylight.”
Nothing irritated him more than lateness, especially from those he was paying to do things for him. Crossing his arms, he blocked the doorway. “You realize how much I paid for your services today?”
Tommy’s face went read. “Yes, sir.”
“Then you’d better bring you’re A-game, or I’m requesting a fucking refund.”
The man took a drag of breath through his nose, nodded, and looked down at his feet.
“My assistant Melissa and I will set up immediately, sir, if you’ll just point us in the right direction.”
Colton stepped forward, Tommy hurrying to the side to allow him out as he went onto the walkway and looked up at the sky. The faint rumble of thunder sounded from the mountain range as it had been for the past hour. It was a beautiful spring evening, but the threat of a thunderstorm was noticeable through the purplish, gray cloud cover rolling in from the east.