I understand why I have the nickname. Hey, what can I say? I like women. All women. It doesn’t matter what shape, size, or color. I’m even into sharing. I’ve done it all, seen it all, but I’m at an all-time low. Who wouldn’t be? My best friend is missing. My uncle’s an asshole. I don’t know who I am without The Nights. We are a band of brothers, soldiering through the world with our music. Only, our faithful leader is gone, and everyone else in the band is falling for the oldest trap: love. Love is a lie. It is painful. It is hurtful.
I need a break. I want to be alone. I’m not prepared to share the exclusive home on the Island. I’m not prepared for her. I don’t know who she is or why she’s here. She tells me to call her Ireland. I tell her my first name only. Originally, I don’t want to believe she doesn’t recognize me. Bass guitarist for The Nights, come on? After a while we both play the game. Secrets are another form of lies, aren’t they?
Our fantasy will crash to reality too soon. Secrets catch up to you. The truth has to be told. It confirms what I already know: love is a lie.
Whoa! Tristan’s story was definitely one for the books and held their to the theme of this series.
With the disappeared of Arturo King, the rest of the band have had to find their way without their leader. Each finding their soulmate along the way.
For Tristan, the loss of Arturo led him to drown himself in alcohol and women as he watched Lansing fall for Lila and Perkins find Hollister. Arturo had already found Guinevere before he went missing so he was the odd man out. Starting to feel that emptiness of not having someone of his own, he leaves for some alone time only to find out that decision would change everything for him.
Ireland, was hiding from her family and a future she didn’t want and didn’t know what to do about the guy she found staying at her hideaway. Both agree to keep to themselves only to eventually form a friendship that brought them closer together. But when they return back to the real world and lives they were running from they faced obstacles that worked hard to keep them apart. They also have face their fears and insecurities when it comes to falling in love for the first time and unsure of the other person’s feelings.
It was great to see the last of the band members find their love. Each of them whole with the love and support of a strong woman. Now, all that being said…I’m forced to wit patiently for the rest of Arturo and Guinie’s story. I can’t wait for the next book.
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wanted to know who she was. Scratch that, I didn’t care who she was. I wanted to know how she got in the house. Damn these fangirls, sometimes. They knew no shame.
Her chin length blonde hair fell forward as she bent to clasp her knees and catch her breath.
Something wasn’t right with this scenario.
and almost disgusted with me, for even asking such a ridiculous question. She wrinkled her nose.
couldn’t read. Her blue eyes brightened in a frightening sort of way. Was that fear? Good, she should be afraid.
I swear. I’m allowed to be here. You don’t need to call Isa.”
As a matter of fact, I won’t even be in your way. You won’t even know I’m here.
I plan to keep to myself.” Her eyes were glassy, and again I worried she was about to cry.
care for small chested girls. I didn’t care for her.
“Hiding,” she replied.
L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.
I’d like to say I was always a writer. I’d also like to say that I wrote every day of my life since a child. That I took the teaching advice I give my former students because writing every day improves your writing. I’d like to say I have my ten-thousand hours that makes me a proficient writer. But I can’t say any of those things. I did dream of writing the “Great American Novel” until one day a friend said: Why does it have to be great? Why can’t it just be good and tell a story?
As a teenager, I wrote your typical love-angst poetry that did occasionally win me an award and honor me with addressing my senior high school class at our Baccalaureate Mass. I didn’t keep a journal because I was too afraid my mom would find it in the mattress where I kept my copy of Judy Blume’s Forever that I wasn’t allowed to read as a twelve year old.
I can say that books have been my life. I’m a reader. I loved to read the day I discovered “The Three Bears” as a first grader, and ever since then, the written word has been my friend. Books were an escape for me. An adventure to the unknown. A love affair I’d never know. I could be lost for hours in a book.
So why writing now? I had a story to tell. It haunted me from the moment I decided if I just wrote it down it would go away. But it didn’t. Three years after writing the first draft, a sign (yes, I believe in them) told me to fix up that draft and work the process to have it published. That’s what I did. But one story let to another, and another, and another. Then a new idea came into my head and a new storyline was created.
I was accused (that’s the correct word) of having an overactive imagination as a child, as if that was a bad thing. I’ve also been accused of having the personality of a Jack Russell terrier, full of energy, unable to relax, and always one step ahead. What can I say other than I have stories to tell and I think you’ll like them. If you don’t, that’s okay. We all have our book boyfriends. We all have our favorites. Whatever you do, though, take time for yourself and read a book.