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From Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author Bella Love-Wins, comes an emotionally charged second chance romance standalone.
I left her behind… but I can’t let go.
As the lead singer of an infamous rock band, my life is a dream come true — money, fame, all the women I could want. There’s no reason to ever look back.
But I can’t escape my past forever.
When I’m forced to return home to face the loss of my family pillar, she’s still there. The only woman who has ever held my heart. The only one who can understand my loss because of her own tragedy. The only one who can wreck the illusion I’ve built.
But I’m starting to think that having it all is nothing compared to having her.
Reckless is a full-length second chance romance standalone romance with a happily ever after ending and no cliffhanger. If you like out-of-control alpha male rock stars and sinful second chances, grab this story when it goes live!
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The crowd chanted the name of my band, anticipation hanging thick in the air.
Strobe lights bolted through Madison Square Garden like shards of sunlight breaking through clouds. Streaks of light highlighted random members of the screaming, writhing crowd below the stage.
The excitement in the atmosphere was palpable. A trickle of sweat raced down my neck, making me shiver with anticipation.
I loved this moment.
When they couldn’t see us yet, and energy made my heart leap.
I dreaded this moment.
When that same heart would bleed as surely as the fact that I couldn’t go back and change the past.
The first notes from Andy’s guitar pinged from the speakers, wrapping around my nerves, squeezing tighter and tighter with each pluck of his fingers.
I loved performing, loved the fans, loved the music. Loved this song. And hated it.
It made me restless. Reckless.
I closed my eyes, letting the music take me to where it always did. Away from the past.
Except for this damn song.
Riding on the tension strumming through every tendon in my body, I gripped the microphone and gave all my attention to the fans who had put us here on this much coveted stage.
“Is everybody ready?” I cried as the heat of a spotlight hit me, blinding me to anything a foot past my microphone.
The ocean of people below cheered, fans nearest the stage screams discernable from the rest. A few women were even shedding tears, and of course, showing more than cleavage. I knew I could have any one of them, but first, I had to survive the trip down memory lane.
“I said, are you ready New York?”
As slits of light danced onstage, tantalizing the crowd, I darted my eyes to Ben Vessey. Sitting behind the drums, his black hair was shooting wildly in every direction. He gave me one sharp nod, silently communicating that we were ready, and raised his drumsticks for the intro.
The crowd’s pandemonium reached a new height as we exploded into our first song, our breakout hit, “Yours Now.” Always a crowd pleaser, we’d been singing it as our opening song since our rise to fame.
At. Every. Single. Gig.
It was the song that ultimately propelled us to worldwide fame. I’d suggested that it could be cut now—multiple times—since we were an international sensation, but I got shot down instantly each time by our manager. So we had no choice but to play it.
Which meant that I had no choice but to grit my teeth and hold on until it was over.
I gripped the mic tighter as an image of the “raven-haired beauty” depicted in the lyrics flashed before me.
Blue eyes that glimmered with warmth, much like sun hitting the lake on a summer day.
Curves that she didn’t know she had because she was always too busy rescuing some animal.
Lips, once kissed, never allowed me an uninterrupted night of sleep since.
Pushing the tormenting image away, I focused on a blonde sitting on someone’s shoulders, beckoning to me. I didn’t want to think of the dark-haired goddess ever again.
Red lips screaming my named changed to the memory of pink lips smiling at me, a lilting laugh that made my heart race faster even as I tried to drag my focus back to the blonde. In my mind’s eye, Kelly ran her fingers down my chest like she had back then, making sweat pop out all over my body. My cock swelled. We’d been lightning and fireworks before becoming storm clouds brewing into a hurricane that swept us out to sea.
My eyes closed, and I concentrated on the moan of the bass guitar, the boom of the drum, the whine of the six string as all three blended together in a song that broke my heart all over again. I tried to detach from the words, tried to tell myself they were meaningless, but the memory of her face blocked out the stage, the crowd, the noise.
She clapped wildly after I played it for her from the track on my phone as we sat in my car. She’d heard it when I wrote it for her, but not recorded.
“Oh, Gage, I love it! It’s amazing.” Her compliment made my heart soar like a reckless dove, her words better than a big hit. “I love you, Gage.” She flung her arms around my neck. “You’re going to be famous one day, a rock star playing massive gigs.”
I laughed. “When I do, I will always sing this song first. Because it’s my song for you, and you’re the most important thing in my life.” She blushed as I tucked a dark lock behind her ear. “By then, you’ll be my wife.”
I was so certain, so cocky in the knowledge that us being together forever would just happen. I never could’ve envisioned a time when I would hate every word of that song.
My heart twisted, and I belted out the lyrics as if the words leaving my lungs would take the pain with them.