Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,96
headlines, unfortunately. Perhaps you heard him mentioned during that scandal. They’ve dissolved for good, but two of the remaining members are looking to start over. Julian was the former rhythm guitarist for Eastern Crush.” She draws in a deep breath. “Look, I get that this is a huge step down for you, but—”
“Set it up.”
“Wait… you’re sure?”
I glance over at Oliver who grins back with the answer in my heart since the moment she reached out. Since someone believed in me.
Genevieve Fox feared the fall.
Viv Hastings lives for the climb.
“Yes, Sam. I’m in.”
Stay tuned for FINDING EAST, the next chapter of the Turner Artist Rocker Series, featuring Julian and Hadley.
FINDING EAST: A TURNER ARTIST ROCKER NOVEL
Turner Artist Management Urgent Action Item:
✔ Redeem the remnants of disgraced rockers Eastern Crush
When one of your top artists asks for a favor, you listen. When it involves rescuing two members of the band that betrayed him, you wonder what secrets remain.
Still, I do it—by recruiting an A-list superstar to lead their journey back from exile. But when her trusted assistant clashes with the band leader and guitarist, sparks will fly, igniting old wounds and new threats. Explosive tension amidst a desperate battle for redemption, what’s an agency to do?
See, I’m just the manager. The story that follows actually belongs to my embattled client Julian Campbell and the fiery assistant who’s captured his wrath—and fascination.
Because now that angry sparks have hinted at a passionate blaze, everyone’s desperate to know:
Who is HADLEY CRAWFORD??
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MORE FROM ALYSON
Alyson Santos is a writer, musician, and cat lover. You will find evidence of her obsession with music in most of her books. Have you faced the music in these emotional and powerful stories about finding the light in the darkness? Explore love in a new way by checking out these other titles by Alyson. Happy reading!
I’d be lying if I said I don’t notice him enter the restaurant. We all do. It’s impossible not to.
He isn’t drop-dead gorgeous or anything. In fact, I can’t describe a single trait I haven’t seen before. He’s not particularly tall, nor is he memorably short. His hair is messy in an intentional kind of way that makes you think he cares a little, but not too much. At the very least, he used to care and old habits die hard. He’s dressed similarly, casual, but uncomfortably so, like this is his one pair of jeans in a closet full of suits. Although really, his jeans are too expensive to count as jeans anyway. He hasn’t shaved in a couple days but it suits him and makes you pretty sure it’s an intentional look. No, it isn’t any of that.
It’s the way his eyes scan the café. The chairs, the walls, the ceiling. The way what should be a very confident young man cowers in the entrance, the cold air blowing in behind him, interrupting our breakfasts with his personal drama. Stan Hemford even mutters something about moving in or moving out, but I don’t worry about Stan. I can only stare at our intruder’s clenched fists and the way they mirror his set jaw. He’s here, but he doesn’t want to be.
And then, his eyes seem to find what he’s looking for.
Me.
I almost choke on my tea as he begins his approach, and my brain launches a frantic index of the last few years, trying to piece together why I’d have any role in this person’s life. Maybe he kind of looks familiar, but I don’t think I know him. He isn’t the type you’d forget so I believe myself. In a brief moment of absurdity I even consider the possibility that this is a real live hit. But he doesn’t look like a hit man, at least not what a girl who’s spent most of her life in a rural Pennsylvania town imagines a hit man to look like. He looks more like the guy who would hire the hit man. Actually, he looks like the actor who would play the guy who hires the hit man.