Joanne Rock - She Thinks Her Ex Is Sexy...

His eyes glued themselves to the patch of skin above her panties, where her hand toyed with the shirt hem.

Damn. Her.

How could Shannon play games like this when their split had nearly killed him?

“No, thanks,” he said, turning back to the makeshift shelter he was setting up. Seeing Shannon undressed had the power to make him stupid.

“Then I’ll just take my pilfered hotel soap and find someplace private to put this rainfall to work.” She waved a tiny white bar she must have picked up at the resort.

“Shannon?” he called as she started to walk away.

She turned, her wet hair sliding against her shoulder as she looked at him expectantly.

“You know you’re killing me, don’t you?”

Her sole response was a smile, before she and her pink panties disappeared into the darkness….

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Dear Reader,

There’s something sexy about a rock ‘n roll hero. I think we love our musicians because they are a new incarnation of the poet/troubadour. Their lyrics touch our hearts and speak to our experiences, setting our lives to song. And at the most basic level, what woman doesn’t approve of the man who can move her hips?

For this book I decided to look beyond that cool rocker facade to the man beneath and see what it might be like to fall in love with a guy who is in the public eye. A guy women around the globe vie for. Of course, the story got a little more complicated when I gave my rocker a heroine who was every bit as in demand as him.

I hope you enjoy Shannon and Romero’s journey. And the next time your own life journey takes an unexpected turn, keep in mind that sometimes being lost is the only way to find yourself.

Happy reading,

Joanne Rock

Three-time RITA ®Award nominee and Golden Heart winner Joanne Rock is the author of more than thirty novels for Harlequin Books. She is fascinated by what draws people together, and she finds inspiration for her books while studying Myers-Briggs profiles, astrology charts, Enneagrams and the occasional personal ad. Whether she is writing a medieval historical or a sexy contemporary story, she enjoys exploring the dynamics that create a lasting relationship. Learn more about Joanne and her work by visiting her at joannerock.com or at myspace.com/joanne_rock.

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

108—GIRL’S GUIDE TO HUNTING & KISSING

135—GIRL GONE WILD

139—DATE WITH A DIVA

171—SILK CONFESSIONS

182—HIS WICKED WAYS

240—UP ALL NIGHT

256—HIDDEN OBSESSION

305—DON’T LOOK BACK

311—JUST ONE LOOK

363—A BLAZING LITTLE CHRISTMAS

“His for the Holidays”

381—GETTING LUCKY

395—UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

HARLEQUIN HISTORICAL

749—THE BETROTHAL

“Highland Handfast”

758—MY LADY’S FAVOR

769—THE LAIRD’S LADY

812—THE KNIGHT’S COURTSHIP

890—A KNIGHT MOST WICKED

To Arianna Hart, who adores those rocker

heroes the same way I do.

Thanks for being such a fabulous friend!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

“EVERY SINGLE PERSON in this hotel is getting it on right now except me.” Shannon Leigh cradled her cell phone against one shoulder as she packed her suitcase in the exclusive Mexican seaside resort, her emotions in more disarray than her stale career. “It’s like the Cupid wedding theme ran wild and infected every employee and guest in the place. I just went to hunt down more towels, and even the maid is getting busy in the supply closet.”

“Eeeww.” Shannon’s agent, Ceily, was back home in L.A. She started her day at 6:00 a.m. so Shannon hadn’t felt terribly guilty about waking her at five to share the trauma of this Valentine weekend wedding from hell.

Shannon’s best friend had gotten married in a romantic private ceremony in La Paz on the Baja Peninsula and Shannon had been the maid of honor. Too bad she’d agreed to the Cupid fest before the best man—her rock-star boyfriend of almost a year—had broken up with her. She’d been stuck watching him charm his way through the wedding, with adoring female guests throwing themselves at his feet wherever he went. She’d been due to finally escape the night before—until her charter flight had been canceled because of engine trouble. A situation Romero had heard about during the reception, promptly and publicly offering to drive her back to L.A. the following morning.

Now technically today.

How could she have refused gracefully without drawing more attention to a breakup that still had the tabloids buzzing three months after the fact?

Shannon had no idea how she would survive the long trip ensconced in a small sports car with one of the sexiest men in the known universe. And that wasn’t just her opinion. Look up any poll on hot rockers and Romero Jinks topped the charts. She just wanted to get the hell out of the sex-drenched hotel and back to real life. Back to salvaging her imperiled career.

“Tell me about it. I was trying diligently to avoid any more romance references after the overexposure to pink roses, pink champagne and pink bridesmaid dresses. Then I have to stumble into a storage-room orgy.” She yanked the lemon-yellow dress she’d worn to the rehearsal dinner from the closet and tossed it onto the bed, trying not to think about how long it had been since she’d had sex. Three months without Romero had been—lonely. But even before that there’d been the fights and the nights alone in his king-size bed while he made love to his damn guitar instead of her.

Their relationship had been deteriorating for months from lack of communication and—often—lack of presence on the same continent. She’d needed to talk and connect with him, while he preferred long stretches of brooding alone time that fueled his music and left her frustrated. The whole precarious situation had imploded over the stupidest fight ever when he’d bought new hiking boots for his entire entourage but hadn’t bothered to toss a pair in her direction.

She’d been petty to erupt about something so superficial, but it wasn’t about the damn boots. She’d been tired of being a nonentity to him, while he’d meant so much to her.

“You should totally report her, and I don’t want you using those towels.” Ceily’s voice cracked, no doubt because she hadn’t had her morning coffee or her first cigarette of the day, which, bizarrely, seemed to clear her throat.