Aspiring singer Iris Easton’s life has never been easy. First, her mother walked out on her when she was a kid. Now she’s buried in debt, weeks after losing her beloved grandmother. When a mysterious and sexy new guy moves in next door, Iris can’t help but be drawn to his soulful gaze. She can tell there’s something from his past haunting him—something he’s not telling her.
Just as Ace starts falling for Iris, the media go on a worldwide hunt to find the missing rocker. Will true love conquer all, or will the truth be the very thing that tears the couple apart?
Michelle A. Valentine is a Central Ohio nurse turned New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of erotic and New Adult romance. Her love of hard-rock music, tattoos, and sexy musicians inspired her erotic BLACK FALCON series.
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As Ace heads off to hide out from celebrity life he meets Iris. I really liked Iris's quirky charm. Her lack of self-awareness added to her appeal. Even though she's sweet and charming, Iris isn't a pushover (I can't stand weak female characters).
The cynical and suspicious side of my mind couldn't quite decide about Ace. I think this is because he wasn't the cocky player I was expecting. He's a normal guy in a strange situation - But confusingly this was also what I liked about him (hence my dilemma). I did feel his interest in Iris was a bit quick (again I'm cynical) and I kept waiting for something bad to happen. I did understand how Iris's honesty would be attractive to him in the world of lies and fakery he's been living in. This being said, there were moments when his inner 'rockstar' would make an appearance.
I really wanted Iris to have a chance in the limelight and to be successful, but I was concerned what would happen to her if she did make it. Wicked White is short and mostly sweet. It has enough sentimental moments mixed with the cynical dark side of the music industry to make a fun and charming story and Ace won me over.
“Iris…that was amazing. You’ve got so much talent,” I praise.
Her green eyes light up with excitement like a child’s do on Christmas morning. “You really think so? You’re not just saying that?”
“No. I never bullshit about music. You’ve definitely got the chops for Broadway, it’s just…” I hesitate, not wanting to hurt her feelings, but I know that in order for her to get better, she has to be told what she’s doing wrong.
She lays her hand on my forearm. “Please, tell me. I can take it. Promise.”
I stand beside her, so close that my chest nearly touches her shoulder. I’m itching to touch her, but I won’t do it without permission. “May I touch you?”
She draws in a ragged breath and then nods. “Yes.”
I curl the fingers of my right hand around her right shoulder and pull back a little so that her posture is perpendicular to the floor. At this angle, I can’t help but notice her heaving chest and how her perky tits move in sync with each breath she takes.
I slide my left hand against her toned stomach and my pinkie grazes the warm patch of skin that’s exposed between her T-shirt and the waistband of her jeans.
Our contact is fucking electric, and my own breathing picks up speed as I attempt to fight back the arousal I feel for her boiling beneath my surface.
“Everything about you is magnetic,” I whisper in her ear, and she shivers at the words. “Don’t be afraid to open your eyes and watch your audience enjoy you. Be confident and project. Let go.”
I let go of her shoulder, and move to face her before pressing the repeat button on the machine. As the intro of the song plays, I say, “Do it again, but this time I want you to look at me.”
This time when she opens her mouth to sing, when she begins to tip her head down, I slide my index finger under her chin and angle her head so that she’s forced to peer into my eyes.
Her words are just barely above a whisper, so I slip my hand back on her abdomen and say, “Project--from here. Sing it like you mean it.”
It’s like lightening strikes this beautiful woman in my arms as she sings to me without fear. The words of the song come out effortlessly, and her voice could rival any of the greatest female vocalists of all time.
She’s that damn stunning.
I nod approvingly and smile. “Yes!”
With that little bit of encouragement, she shocks me even more when she pushes herself to hit notes that are above and beyond what she reached the first time.
Only on the last lyric does she close her eyes while she holds the note there until the music stops. She releases a contented sigh as soon as the music ends, and when her beautiful eyes meet mine again, they swirl with emotion.
Completely blown away, I fumble with the words to tell her just how impressed I am. “Iris, that was--”
Without warning, she throws her arms around my neck and crushes her lips against mine. I know kissing her back is wrong, but I’ll be damned if I don’t want her so badly at this point that I can’t stop myself from giving in. I’ve been so good with restraining myself when it comes to Iris, because protecting her from the chaos that I’ll bring her is what’s always been on the forefront of my mind.
Her fingers thrust into my hair, and I reach down and curl my hands around her thighs before hoisting her into the air. Instinctively she wraps her legs around my waist, and I thread one of my hands into her tousled curls while the other is busy cupping that perfect ass of hers.
“I’ve wanted you since you walked into my trailer,” she breathes against my lips.
A thrill shoots through me at her admission of how long she’s wanted me. “You’ve been driving me out of my mind from the moment I first saw you.”
“Then take me.”