Friday, July 11, 2014

Blissful Tradgedy By Amy L. Gale

Sometimes love is more than tragedy or bliss. 

Ambitious 22-year-old Lexie Waters is intent on taking the advertising world by storm. When she’s offered the soon to be open position she’s been vying for at a swanky advertising agency, there’s only one last summer separating her from dreams of corporate success. Still bitter from catching her boyfriend cheating, she heads out for a night of fun to see her favorite band, Devil’s Garden, but fun turns into utter embarrassment when she insults the enticingly confident lead singer, Van Sinclair. Van is intrigued by Lexie’s ability to resist his charm and secretly obtains her cell number. Shocked but eager to get to know this captivating rocker, Lexie accepts Van’s invitation to see his next show, which requires an overnight stay. The overwhelming feelings that follow take them both by surprise, and with two months left before starting her sought after new position, Lexie joins the tour. As she’s catapulted into the world of groupies and wild parties, she questions Van’s commitment to her. So what happens at summer’s end when time runs out? 


An eerie silence takes over the dark night sky. I stare straight ahead and breathe slowly, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. The crisp, cool, spring air caresses my body and heightens my senses. I shiver slightly. The bone-rattling drum beat pulsates through my chest. I jump up from my seat as the guitar screams its heavy ear-splitting shriek, like a choir of electric angels. A frenzy of loud cheers emerges, piercing through the calmness as hundreds of fans leap to their feet. The bright lights focus on center stage. I take a deep breath and stare at the silhouette slowly being illuminated.
Van Sinclair stands so close that if I lunged forward, I’d crash into six feet of pure muscle. My eyes fixate on his light-brown, shoulder length, perfectly messy hair that frames his chiseled face. Then, they travel down to the tight black T-shirt that clings to every sculpted muscle of his torso, flaunting them in just the right way. My lips part and chills flood my body causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I hold in a deep breath and slowly exhale as he grips the microphone stand, pulling it close to his body. He closes his eyes and begins to belt out the lyrics. His raw powerful tones, both decades old and brand new at the same time, resonate through the night sky. Hot lights shining down on the stage highlight a bead of sweat that runs down his arm, over the impeccably detailed dragon tattooed on his left bicep. He lifts his head and looks into the crowd. My heart races as I stare into his exquisite emerald green eyes, mesmerized.
“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” Brooke yells into my ear, breaking my trance. “His picture doesn’t do him justice.”
“You can say that again,” Sydney agrees.
Breathless, all I can do is nod.
Devil’s Garden is promoting their best album yet. Even though the two-thousand-seat amphitheater is not the largest of venues, it’s sold out tonight. A wall of bodies closes in, pushing us toward the stage. The hard wood against my palms keeps the crowd at bay. Can it keep me from being crushed for the whole two hour set? My skin glistens as the three of us sway, moving to the music. Wait, is Van Sinclair watching me? Yeah right, like that would happen.

My heart starts racing again. I grab my phone and do something I never dreamed I’d do. I dial Van Sinclair’s number.
“Hey,” he answers.
I fidget with my fingers. “Hi. After serving my slavery sentence I found an interesting package at my door.”
“Really? I can’t imagine what it could be.”
I bite my lip. “Well, it’s kind of cryptic. Maybe it’s from some psychotic serial killer.”
“You need to watch out for those crazy bastards that go around killing cereal.” He laughs. “You said you love the ocean. I’m hoping you’ll want to come to the show and spend some beach time with me. I need someone to show me the ropes, or should I say the waves.”
My heart literally skips a beat. Van wants me to stay with him, at the beach, in a hotel? The butterflies in my stomach flutter frantically. I know exactly what will be happening if Van and I share a hotel room. What should I do? I really want to see him again, but musicians aren’t known to be the most faithful people. Who am I kidding? He may only want me for one night.
I pace around the room. Oh, but I meet with Owen Jenkins tomorrow morning. Well, there’s really not much I can do to prepare for my new position yet. I certainly can use some fun, and I’m sure nothing will evolve from this anyway. I pull out a kitchen chair and sit. Ah, a slumber party with Van Sinclair. My whole body trembles and tingles. I’m breathless as heat radiates through my chest. I take a deep breath and swallow hard to relieve the dryness in my mouth; I try to act clever.
“Should I pack life jackets?”
He chuckles. “I think they provide that stuff here.”
I twirl my hair around my fingers. “Ok, I have a meeting with my new boss tomorrow morning. I’ll leave in the afternoon so I should be there around four o’clock.”
“I booked a room at the Sea Star Hotel. It doesn’t have a casino so we won’t have to deal with any drunken gamblers,” he says. “I have to go to meet everyone at Bader Field now but I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” I reply.
Did I forget to breathe again? I let my dizzy head fall back and slink into the chair. Oh no, did I dream this up in a sleep-
deprived daydream? I look over at the box on the table and pinch myself just to make sure. Ouch, yep this is for real. 


As we step into the hotel room my breathing becomes rapid and my heart races. It’s as if I’ve stepped into another dimension. I scurry into the bathroom to freshen up and give myself another pep talk. The moment that I yearn for, yet fear, has arrived. I unzip my boots and yank them off, letting the cool tile collide with my hot feet. Ah, the sensation invigorates my body. My palms rest against the granite countertop. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, slowly opening them and gazing at my reflection. Come on Lexie, pull yourself together! He’s just a guy. Yeah right. I run my fingers through my hair, removing my headband and pull my necklace over my head, dropping it onto the counter. A quick spray of perfume on my belly and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
I step into the bedroom, twirling my hair around my fingers. Van sits on the bed and lifts his eyes; they scorch through me, encircling my soul. He runs his fingers through his hair and stands. God, he’s so sexy. No matter what happens, I’ll never forget this night.
Keeping his eyes locked onto mine like a predator stalking his next meal, he slowly moves toward me. My heart is thrashing against my chest. He leans in, brushes a few strands of hair away from my face, and sweeps his lips over mine. A firestorm streams through my body. I reach around and slide my fingers over the solid muscles of his back and press myself against him. Ah, he really wants me. The deep passion intensifies as his tongue penetrates my mouth. I’m so out of my league. I start shaking.
He pulls away. “Are you cold?”
“Just need to warm up.”
“I can help with that.
Holy crap, he can feel me shiver. I have to pull myself together. I’m my own worst enemy. I move my hands up his body and weave my fingers through his still-damp hair, re-igniting our
make-out session. His soft lips glide across my jaw and down my neck, causing every hair on my body to rise. I run my hands down to the bottom of his soft T-shirt, slowly slithering my fingers over an array of peaks and valleys as I pull it up and over his head. My grip loosens and the shirt falls to the floor.
At last, a chance to admire his chiseled body. I rest my hands on his shoulders and lower my head. My eyes travel over the rugged terrain of his torso. God, he’s sexy. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Can he hear it?
He reaches around and whisks my hair away from my back. His fingers softly caress my skin causing goose bumps to spread over my body as he unzips the back of my dress. I step out of it, revealing my black lace bra and panties.
He runs his hand along my face and down my side. “Wow, the view from this room just keeps getting better.”
He scoops me up and places me on the bed.


My heart races and I begin to hyperventilate. I haven’t been with anyone other than Jesse for two years. That ended up a disaster; I hope my sexual skills are up to par. To make matters worse, Van Sinclair is gorgeous, confident, and no doubt very experienced. I don’t even want to know how many woman he has been with. There were at least fifty throwing themselves at him the night we met.
I go into Brooke’s bedroom, open the nightstand drawer, and take out a sleeve of condoms. Even though I’ve been on the pill for years, I still want to protect myself. I have to get rid of this nervous energy before I get to Atlantic City. I must believe that Van has been texting and calling me because he wants to know me. He could easily have sex with much less effort if that was what he was after. I have to believe that he truly wants to be with me and there’s no doubt I want to be with him, no matter what I try to tell myself. He awakens every hibernating cell in my body. I smile as I think through all of our conversations and texts. My little self-pep talk boosts my confidence. I grab my overnight bag and head for the car. I’m on my way to Van Sinclair.
It’s a three-hour car ride from my apartment to Atlantic City. I really don’t mind. The drive gives me some more time to think and convince myself that I’m the woman Van Sinclair wants. I begin to fidget and become more restless the closer I get to Atlantic City. My heart beats a little faster with every passing mile. I can’t wait to see Van again. Plus, this time we’ll be alone after the concert. I won’t be in a room filled with other woman trying to compete for his attention. He’ll be completely mine.
I twirl my hair around my fingers as I pull into the hotel’s parking garage. Salty air and the cackle of seagulls greet me as I step outside. The hotel rests on the boardwalk
and leads to a pristine white sandy beach. It’s reminiscent of the long-lost glamour that Atlantic City possessed in eras past. I walk into the enormous lobby and admire the crystal chandeliers and marble tiles. I text Van, letting him know I’d arrived and set my bag onto the floor.
The elevator doors slowly open. My whole body erupts in goose bumps as the unique electricity flows through me. I glance down at the dark-blue ripped jeans that hang down on his hips just enough to flaunt his chiseled abs, and then focus my gaze to yet another tight black T-shirt that once again does not fail to show off just about every muscle in his perfect body. Wow! The fluttering in my stomach begins.
He walks up to me, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look great! Thanks for driving all this way. I’m sorry, I should’ve gotten a ride for you.”
“I didn’t mind the drive, it was relaxing,” I say, fidgeting with my necklace.
He drops his arm. “So what do you think of the place?”
“It’s absolutely beautiful.” I take a step back and glance around once more.
Van lifts my bag with one hand and puts the other hand around my waist. Sparks flow through my body, drifting from my fingertips to my toes. I take a deep breath and try to steady my heartbeat.
“Come on, I want to show you our room.” He guides me toward the elevator.
I follow him like a moth to a flame.

My Amazon link

Fun Facts About Amy L. Gale

I would do almost anything for chocolate.
My favorite pizza topping is black olives.
I love the beach but only go in the ocean up to my knees for fear a shark might attack me.

I love to travel but hate to fly, thank God for alcohol.

I have an issue with buying flip flops and have so many I could probably share them with a small town.

Green is my favorite color.

I love animals and would have a zoo if I could.
I love rock music and I’m a huge Led Zeppelin fan.
I bake and decorate cakes in my very limited spare time.
Even though I write romance novels I’m a huge horror fan.