Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Excerpt: Grady by Gretchen Rily!

Gretchen Rily has a new series starting up and to celebrate the release of book 1, Grady, I've got an excerpt for you all. Enjoy! 😃

Grady by Gretchen Rily
Publisher: Gretchen Rily (November 14th, 2017)
Series: Must Love Rock Stars Series, 1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
1st POV

Thousands of people scream Grady Baker’s name every night, but Evie Pearson won’t even look at him.

Building a rock and roll empire isn’t easy, but Bourbon Suicide is doing it with every sold-out concert, platinum album, and smart business decision. The son of an eighties rock band singer and a video vixen, Grady knows how to play the part, if he can just avoid the burnout.

Combine chemicals, detonate, get a beautiful effect…or burned to the bone.

While Grady was skateboarding naked, Evie was putting herself through a technical theater program by working at a fireworks company. A woman in a man’s world, she can handle the pyro and out-swear the other roadies, but one misstep can have her doing corporate picnics. A rock tour is unlike any office on earth, but sex with the client is still a bad idea.

The arrogant rock star persona hides a man who wants to take care of the people he loves. He shows that side far less often than he does his back dimples, but once Evie sees it, enemies quickly become friends, then lovers. As she gets further and further into their world, Evie finds a family she never expected.

Grady, the man, would do anything to keep his fire woman. Grady Baker, rock star, could cost Evie her career. And their empire.

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Grady Excerpt:

“Am I dressed okay?” 
His uncertainty is adorable. Even fussing with the sleeves on his suit jacket, making sure they’re rolled just right, he exudes confidence. He stops in front of me, opening his arms to the sides, and my gaze catches on his hands, ring free, but the metal studs in a leather band glint on his wrist. Singers don’t get enough credit for their hands.  
I snap my eyes back to his face. “Yep. No one would ever suspect you’re a rock star.” 
One eyebrow wings up, but his eyes don’t meet mine. 
“Let’s not go that far. Though I don’t think anyone’s going to be looking at me.” He’s doing a slow perusal of my dress, the only one I have with me. It’s long and flowy and shows off nothing, but that look has a way of making me feel like I’m standing here in a leather push-up bra and stiletto dominatrix boots. 
I clear the glob of spit from my throat and shift from one foot to the other. It only makes him zero in on my breasts. The dress has spaghetti straps, so I’m not wearing a bra. Something that isn’t a problem, usually, but the smolder he’s not even aware of throwing at me has my nipples so hard they’re obvious even in the fabric’s busy print. 
“So, thanks for being my date tonight. I would have hated the second ticket to go to waste.” 
That brings his eyes up, along with both eyebrows and the corner of his mouth, like I’ve surprised him, in a happy way. “Date?” 
Shit. Did I say date? “Date? No, not date, date. Friend date,” I stammer. 
His face splits into a bright grin. I should have known that wouldn’t put him off. “So we’re friends now?” he asks, taking a step closer. I instinctively take a step away, the backs of my knees hitting the arm of the low couch. 
What is it with these fancy hotels and their toddler-height furniture anyway? 
“Yeah, we’re friends,” I manage to say, though my stomach is still doing loop-de-loops at the idea of having rock stars for friends. 
He’s an armlength away now, close enough I can smell his cologne and soap and that undertone that’s all Grady. His grin has shifted, a version of the rock star grin I haven’t seen before. The primitive part of me that thrills every night at the stage divers and the mosh pit and the girls flashing the band thrills to this as well, an intimate grin that while I’m sure hundreds of other women have seen, feels like it’s just for me. 
His voice is lower when he says, “Are we gonna be lovers, Evie?” 
My bark of laughter is nerves, not amusement, and by the tilt of his head, he knows it. “C’mon,” I hedge. “We’ve totally doused any possible chemistry, haven’t we?” 
“Let’s find out.”

Gretchen Rily is a happy hermit who is eternally grateful her friends let her text instead of call and don’t mind when she disappears into the writing cave for weeks on end. 
She has too many book hangovers, listens to 80s/90s rock music way too loud and eats way too much guacamole.

Where to Find Gretchen:

Don't forget you can pick up Grady today and find out their full story for only $0.99!


Until Next Time,

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