Book Blitz – This Piece of Our Being

This Piece of Our Being
Robyn M. Ryan
(Clearing the Ice, #3)
Publication date: December 5th 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Sports

She no longer believes that love conquers all.

He questions his convictions.

Alone, each faces an uncertain future.

Fate has other ideas.

Just as Fate placed their lives on a collision course five years ago, Andrew and Caryn Chadwick’s paths cross once again in Toronto after a four-month separation. Despite Andrew’s assurances that he wants to repair their marriage, Caryn is wary, not certain she can trust him, and struggles with doubts and questions about his relationship with a member of his Rehab Team. Wracked with guilt, Andrew questions his determination to return to the Tampa Suns hockey team, and he seeks to convince Caryn their marriage will survive.

Fate intervenes with a gift at the worst possible moment.

Caryn can hide this secret for only a short time, but is Andrew capable of pushing his needs aside when he discovers the truth? Can she risk her heart and soul once again? This Piece of Our Being follows Andrew’s and Caryn’s journeys through a fragile reconciliation. Both vow to place honesty at the center of their future. But, will the secrets revealed heal their marriage or drive them further apart?

The conclusion to the Clearing the Ice trilogy, This Piece of Our Being delivers Andrew and Caryn’s Happily Ever After, but the path to reconciliation is rocky and missteps prove costly.

**Please note: For your best enjoyment please be sure to read THIS OF MY HEART and THIS PIECE OF MY SOUL before this book. Check your favorite ebook site for special offers on the first two books in the series during THIS PIECE OF OUR BEING’s preorder period.**

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PRE-ORDER SPECIAL—Just .99 through December 5 release

SPECIAL—Buy the first book in the series, This Piece of My Heart, for just .99 (Save $2.00)

PRELUDE:

On her last day in Toronto, Caryn wandered around the university campus. She had always loved summer on campus and happy memories crowded her mind. She stopped for a strawberry cream frappuccino at the coffee shop where her study group had met two-to-three evenings a week every school year. She smiled as she looked at “their table” where some summer students sat, textbooks open, chatting and taking notes on their devices. The tradition continues.

Caryn walked to the large grassy area, her favorite section of the campus. The sun felt delicious on her face, and she looked for a spot to sit. She leaned her head back and allowed a smile to spread across her face. I’m having a baby! Just for this moment, this very second, I’m happy. No worries about the future. No what-ifs. No second-guessing. I’m having a baby, and I am ecstatic!

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top. In that moment, she could imagine celebrating the moment with Drew. She closed her eyes and imagined him laughing as he lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a circle, his blue eyes never leaving hers. A special romantic dinner poolside, stars shining above the lanai. Holding hands as they ate, planning the future, picking the bedroom they’d convert into the nursery, speculating whether the crib would hold their son or daughter. And choosing names! So many to consider. So many dreams. If only…

Caryn brushed both hands across her face when she felt the tears. Of course, that’s not my reality. Not now. And maybe never. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. You’re strong. No matter what happens, everything will work out. This beautiful child will know love from both parents…even if we live separately.

She sensed a presence beside her and began to scoot to her feet to stand and walk away, but then she suddenly knew. “Why are you here? How did you know?”

Drew’s voice was soft. “I didn’t. I just flew up with Tom. Dan told me to take some time to recharge. Spend some time with my parents. Tom dropped me at the townhouse just now. When I walked inside, I realized you were here.” She felt him drop to the grass beside her. “I had a hunch I might find you somewhere on campus.”

From the corner of her eye, she could tell he was about to reach for her hand.

“Don’t,” she begged softly. “Please.”

“Can we talk?”

“I can’t look at you right now.”

He was silent for a moment. “Okay, how about this.” He shifted until they were back-to-back. “Better?”

Caryn nodded without speaking and pulled her knees back up against her chest. She waited for Andrew to speak and heard him sigh.

“Are you going to Tampa when you leave here?” His voice was soft.

“Probably.”

“Do you think we could sit down and talk?”

“You mean, like last time?” Caryn’s temper flared. “I’m not doing that again, Andrew.”

“I don’t want that either.” Andrew was quiet for a long moment. “I’m hoping we can work things out. I understand if you don’t want to see or talk with me right now. But, can we figure this—us—out sometime when we’re in the same city?”

“Do you believe I had nothing to do with my father calling you?” Caryn challenged.

“None of that matters, Caryn. Whether or not I ever play hockey again—it means nothing if there’s no us. It’s taken me too long to figure that out. I want to ask—make that beg—for the chance to talk with you. I’ve called Lauren, spoken with Kelly and Terri. No one could—or would—tell me where you were.”

“Only Lauren knows.”

“I get that I’m not her favorite person at the moment.”

Caryn bit back a short laugh. “You didn’t answer my question, Andrew. Do you believe I told you the truth about my father? Or am I still guilty by default?”

“Could I answer that face-to-face? I want to look you in the eyes.” He paused a moment. “Is that possible?”

Caryn sighed as she relaxed a bit, leaning back against him. “I can’t do this here. Not in this place, this spot.”

“Then, could you come with me to the townhouse? We can talk there. Please, Cary?”

Caryn leaned her head back, resting it against his neck. She felt that if she looked at him, she’d break, shatter into a million pieces. And if that happened, she wasn’t sure she could put herself back together. “Andrew, do you honestly want to work things out?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Is it even possible?”

“Cary, we can find a way to work things out. Trust me.”

She shut her eyes against the hot tears that threatened and then pressed her face against her hands. “Somehow ‘trust me’ is not especially reassuring, Drew.”

“Walk with me? Just to the townhouse?”

Caryn nodded, but still did not look at him. Andrew held out his hand as he stood, and after a beat, Caryn stretched her hand toward his. He gently pulled her to her feet and then grasped her hand securely when she started to pull away. Caryn took a deep breath as she walked beside him, looking straight ahead as they navigated the campus.

Caryn concentrated on slow, steady, deep breaths, calming her nerves, trying to process Andrew’s sudden appearance after so many weeks. In Toronto, of all places, her refuge. She could not think beyond the next step, the next moment.

They entered the townhouse silently, and Caryn’s gaze immediately focused on Andrew’s luggage just inside the doorway.

“I’ll take that over to my parents,” Andrew said. “Like I said, I didn’t know you were here until I walked in.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have a flight this evening.” Caryn headed for the stairs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” As she passed the night table in the loft bedroom, she grabbed a bottle of water and her saltines before stepping into the bathroom. After she shut the door, she nibbled on a cracker and took a drink of water, then looked at herself in the mirror. Besides the reddened eyes that were slightly swollen, she appeared normal. Caryn splashed cold water on her face and took a deep breath.

She dropped the pack of saltines into her carry-on and zipped it shut. Everything was packed and ready to go. She’d planned to strip the bed, but decided to leave it alone. She took a moment to straighten the sheets and tuck the comforter under the pillows. Drew can change it if he decides to stay. If not, I’ll be back soon. She looked around a final time, then after taking a deep breath, picked up her carry-on and walked reluctantly down the stairs.

Andrew waited in the kitchen, staring out the window at the courtyard. Any other year, we’d be here right now, home for the summer. Wonder if that’s why Caryn’s here? Am I running her off by showing up today? Something else I fucked up? He heard her footsteps on the stairs and returned to the living room in time to see her set her carry-on bag near the door.

“You’re not leaving because of me, Cary?”

She shook her head. “I made the reservations last week. I completed my meetings and I’m good to go.” She turned to face him then, and Andrew saw the wariness in her amber eyes. Those eyes that enchanted him with their sparkle now looked dull. Depression? Exhaustion? A breath caught in his chest when he realized her eyes held no hope.

Caryn walked to the side chair and sat down, and Andrew perched on the edge of the sofa closest to her. He reached for her hand, his eyes asking permission, and Caryn nodded. He closed his hand around hers, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand. She met his gaze expectantly.

“I love you, Cary. My feelings have never changed.”

“Why say that now? Suddenly, you believe I did not ask anyone to call my father?” Her eyes pierced his, not blinking.

He leaned toward her. “I think I’ve always known…deep inside…that you’d never make that call. I was too self-absorbed to admit it.”

Caryn waved her free hand between them. “So all this, between us, was…?”

“Entirely my fault—as Tom not so subtly pointed out to me.”

“What did Tom say?”

“‘Fool,’ ‘jerk,’ and ‘stupid’ were among the operative words. Plus ‘selfish,’ ‘inconsiderate,’ and ‘idiot.’ That’s about the gist of it, minus the rather blunt adjectives he used with each of those words.”

Caryn tried to suppress a giggle. “Wish I could have heard it.”

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to give you an instant replay.” Andrew smiled when he saw a hint of sparkle return to her eyes. “All that aside, I was wrong in more ways that I can count. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for the chance to make things right between us.”

Caryn’s eyes filled with sudden tears, and she pulled back as he reached to touch her cheek. She shook her head again when he started to speak and impatiently brushed aside the tears that had escaped. “Andrew, how do we…?”

He answered before she could finish the question. “Cary, all I know right now is that I love you and I want to be with you. If you’ll give me the chance, we will work everything out.”

Caryn shut her eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath to calm her emotions, determined not to think beyond the present moment as her brain struggled to process Andrew’s words. I want to believe that things can be different this time, that what he says is possible. But what if…What if we can’t work things out?

He didn’t believe her last April, and his betrayal, his lack of trust, still stung. Her stomach contracted suddenly and the nausea rose in her throat. She stood abruptly, shaking her head at the question on his lips.

She barely made it to the bathroom, the nausea getting the best of her as it had so often over the weeks. She leaned weakly against the door as she stood, closing her eyes until the dizziness passed. She splashed more cold water on her face and filled a cup with water to rinse her mouth. She opened the door, Andrew nearby, concern evident on his face.

“You all right?”

Caryn nodded, but didn’t speak as he led her to the kitchen table. Andrew pulled a chair back for her to sit, then opened the refrigerator and grabbed the Coke he hoped to find. He pulled a chair facing hers, opened the bottle, and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered before she took a sip. When she looked at him, the apprehension was obvious in his eyes.

“Have you been sick?”

“No, I’m just overwhelmed. About everything.” She set the bottle on the table, taking another deep breath. “There’s so much we need to discuss.”

“Stay for a few days longer, Caryn. I’ll stay at my parents…we’ll have time to be alone and talk, right here in Toronto—our true home. What better place to begin to work things out?”

Andrew waited for Caryn to respond. When she finally met his eyes, he read the longing, the confusion, the anxiety, and the indecision in the eyes he knew so well. The last thing he wanted to do was to add to the obvious stress she was feeling. He tentatively reached out to brush his fingers against her forehead. “Do you have to get back to Tampa?” He gave her an out.

“I’ve put so much work off on Lauren.” Caryn’s voice was hesitant.

“I can fly back to Tampa with you.”

She shook her head. “No, you can’t.” Her voice was firm. “You need to spend time with your parents…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. “I really do have work I need to complete for new clients.”

“Could you possibly handle the work from here?” Andrew was careful not to push.

Caryn looked at her hands. “I need time to process this. I wasn’t expecting to see you, hear you say you believe me.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“Drew, I believed in us. I never dreamed you’d give up on our love so easily. I trusted you.” She blinked back the hot tears that threatened. “I convinced myself that happiness is overrated.” She met his gaze evenly.

Andrew closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. “I have no right to ask you to trust me. I realize that.” He gently brushed aside the single tear that escaped her eyes.

“You said you needed to concentrate everything on your recovery. What changed?”

“I’ve realized it doesn’t have to be a choice between one or the other. There’s room for both. I needed to get my priorities straight.”

“I pray every day that you will recover one hundred percent. I want you back on the ice, playing with the Suns, just as strong as you were before.”

“Maybe that doesn’t matter so much anymore.”

Caryn held up her hand. “Don’t! Do not say that. Do not tell me it doesn’t matter, that it’s been for nothing.” Her voice shook with anger. “If you don’t keep working for your recovery…” She shook her head. “That would be the worst thing of all.” She pushed back her chair to stand, but Andrew stood and grasped her arms before she could walk away.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Play hockey again.”

“I’ll do everything I can to make that happen, Caryn. There’s no guarantee.”

“I want what we had before you were hurt.” She reached to touch his lips to silence his protest. “I want us to be us again. And that includes your playing hockey, hopefully a long time with the Suns.”

“There’s no guarantee I’ll ever play again.” She met his eyes and he continued quietly. “I still don’t pass that ImPACT baseline.” He shrugged. “I could think I’m ready to play, but if I don’t pass that test…”

“You will. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”

Andrew’s smile was wry. “Now you sound like my brother.” He gently brushed the hair away from her forehead. “So, in the meantime…where do we go from here? What do you want me to do? What do you want to do?” Caryn hesitated, and he continued, “Look, I know I’ve got a lot of work to do before I can expect you to trust me. And I know I don’t deserve to ask…”

She silenced him by putting her hand against his cheek. “Andrew, I can’t do this again if things don’t work out.”

“What could stop us from working through this?”

“I might not be able to watch you play,” Caryn said quietly. “I still get flashbacks of that night. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to watch you play again.”

“Cary, that will never be a problem,” he said. He didn’t remember much from the accident that almost killed him, but she’d watched it all: his helmet flying off, the puck striking his head at full force, him lying motionless on the ice, the hours waiting to see if he’d survive surgery, the days spent wondering if he’d ever wake up. “I promise I will understand.”

Caryn was silent for several minutes, then reached for her Coke and took another sip. “I’ve never doubted you’ll play hockey again.”

Andrew laughed without humor. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve asked myself what I would do if I couldn’t play hockey again. I know I was wrong to push you aside.”

“Why didn’t you call me or tell me?” Caryn’s eyes held his steadily. “I believed what you’d said—that our marriage couldn’t continue until you totally recovered.”

“I convinced myself I didn’t want to risk hurting you any more than I had.” Andrew’s eyes left hers for a moment as he searched for the right words. “I knew I was wrong when I asked you to stay away…and then, I just watched you walk away.” Andrew shook his head. “I hope someday you can forgive me.”

“I already have.” Caryn reached to place her palm against his cheek. “There are a lot of things we need to talk about, but not today. You need to spend time with your parents. I need to get back to Tampa and take care of my clients. Think. Process everything you’ve said today.”

“I’ll be back in Tampa next week. Do you think we can start then?”

Andrew’s hand covered hers as she looked at him, searching his face. She saw the pain of regret mixed with a cautious optimism. She prayed she’d find the answer she sought in the intensity of his blue eyes—the same eyes that had captured her heart and had promised her a piece of his soul. A sensation rippled through her chest…a flutter of hope? Am I willing to open my heart? Risk believing in our future again? She smiled softly as she slipped her hand behind his neck and urged his lips towards her. In the kiss, tender at first and then quickly deepening, she found the answers.

There’s truly only one response, one leap of faith to chance. She pulled back and met his gaze before she stepped into the welcoming arms that closed securely around her. She nodded against his chest, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes, I’d like that, Drew…more than anything.”

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Author Bio:

By the time she was an eight-year-old tomboy growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, Robyn M. Ryan definitely knew what she wanted to do when she grew up—play major league baseball or write. She wrote throughout elementary and high school, first composing novels featuring favorite TV and music personalities, and then venturing into sports writing.

Attending UGA’s journalism school launched her career in public relations, which included an internship with the Atlanta Flames NHL hockey team. This Piece of My Heart, a hockey romance, and the first book in Robyn’s hockey trilogy Clearing the Ice was published May 2016. The second book in the series, This Piece of My Soul, was published January, 2017, and the final book, This Piece of Our Soul concludes the trilogy with a December, 2017 release.

Besides writing, Robyn’s passions include following the New York Rangers, NASCAR, and the Atlanta Braves; splitting time between homes in Atlanta and Palm Coast, and visiting Paris as often as possible. Two brilliant Westies rule both homes.

As do many writers, Robyn chooses to write using a pseudonym—hers is a combination of her sons’ names, a contribution from her youngest nephew.

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Book Blitz – Butterfly by Cambria Hebert

Butterfly
Cambria Hebert
Publication date: November 3rd 2017
Genres: New Adult, Romance

Drunken brawls. One-night stands.

No-show interviews. Toilet-papering my hoity-toity neighbor’s house.

Insulting my fans. Trashing hotel rooms.

What’s it take to become public enemy number one?

I just told you.

I’ve done all that and more.

My poor conduct got me on the Celebs Behaving Badly list

and ultimately ruined my career.

From the world’s number-one popstar to world’s most hated.

That’s me. Ten Stark.

Go underground, they said. Stay out of the spotlight.

Most importantly, stay out of trouble.

Everyone loves a good comeback story.

For once, I listened.

I met someone who didn’t know my name,

my face, or the bad behavior that defined me.

She taught me I wasn’t who everyone thought I was—everyone including me.

Then someone whispered my name and things got messy, as they always do.

Now I want her back.

I’m not a caterpillar, but a butterfly.

My wings are in full color, not just black and white.

But first, I have to shed my cocoon and fly.

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Ten

Five countries. Thirteen cities. Four weeks.

A show in each city, interviews, press… people. Masses of people.

This was my life. A never-ending cycle of shows and appearances and, as of late, an ever-growing list of bad behavior.

I lifted the silver flask up to my lips, then screwed my face into a snarl when my lips and tongue stayed dry. “Why is this empty?” I said to everyone and anyone.

“Because you drank it all?” someone to my left offered.

I gave them a withering look. “You don’t get paid for sarcasm. Fill it.” Thrusting the flask toward the minion, I dismissed him and gazed out the window. My knee bounced rapidly. The nervous energy coiling in my system was never satiated. Not even when my veins had more alcohol in them than blood.

Seconds later, the flask appeared under my nose, and I swiped it up and tipped it back. The familiar burn of vodka slid down my throat. After two long draws, I pulled it back, tucking it into my chest to sigh.

“Where are we again?” I asked as the limo slid to a stop. Even through the heavily tinted windows, the flashbulbs from all the press and fans were blinding. I slid the Versace sunglasses down off my head, over my eyes.

“It’s nighttime,” the person sitting beside me intoned.

I glanced over, not bothering to remove the glasses. “Do you value your job?”

People were banging on the windows, trying to peer in. Their hot breath left clouds on the outside of the glass, and security shouted at everyone to get back.

My assistant shrank. “Well, yes.”

“Then shut up.” I turned away, back to the window and the chaos that reigned beyond it. I took another long swig of the top-shelf vodka.

“We’re in Amsterdam,” my manager said from across the limo.

Beside her, my bodyguard pressed a finger to the black piece in his ear. “All clear,” he told me.

As the door opened, I stuffed the flask into my tailored, leather designer jacket. It wasn’t available to the public yet, not for anyone who wasn’t me.

Screams and shrill cries cut through the night, drowning out all my own thoughts, making me feel numb.

The second my foot stretched out of the ride, the noise level went up about twenty notches. Unfolding from the backseat, I felt the familiar weight of the flask in my pocket.

The second the car door slammed behind me, I threw up my arms and grinned. “What’s up, Amsterdam?”

Everyone went crazy. Women were crying, even some dudes. A plethora of hands and arms reached out over the guardrails, straining to touch me, as everyone screamed my name.

I gave a couple high-fives as flashbulbs burst around me, making my eyes strain.

“C’mon,” my bodyguard said, ushering me toward the entrance.

As we went, I would pause for a couple photos and stop to sign a few posters featuring my face.

“Please, Ten!” Girls were begging, trying to get my attention.

Just before the entrance to the venue, I stopped and went to the rail again, posing to take a selfie with a few fans.

“Oh my God, I love you!” someone screamed.

“You and everybody else,” I muttered.

I moved toward the door, but a dark shape darted out in front of us. I blinked.

A man with a camera and a bag of white shit clutched in his hands jumped in front of us. “You suck!” he spat and lifted the bag, no doubt to bomb me with whatever that shit was.

“Whoa!” My bodyguards pushed me out of the way as the powder disbursed all over the ground instead of all over me, as was intended.

The asshole lunged to the side, managing to get out of the clutches of my guard. He sprang toward me. I didn’t think. I just reacted and threw out my fist, nailing him right in the face.

He went down, falling right in the center of the mess he created. His body writhed as he screamed and yelled. “My nose!” he wailed. “You broke my nose.”

Men ushered me away, stepping in front of the spectacle, and whisked me into the building.

“I’m going to sue you!” the man roared. “I’ll see you in court!”

That was the last thing I heard before the doors cut off the circus.

***

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

I turned around, the flask clutched in my hand, to face the door my manager was filling.

“That asshole had it coming.”

“Probably.” She amended, no give in her voice. “But it doesn’t matter. You know this is going to be yet another PR nightmare. One you can’t afford.”

I drained the contents of the flask and then dropped it on the table beside me. My assistant was nearby, and I motioned for him to fill it up again.

“You’ve had enough.”

“You’re my manager, not my mother.”

“Seems to me you could use some mothering,” she snapped. “You have a show to perform.”

I spread out my arms. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You can’t perform if you can’t stand up.”

A stage tech stuck their head in my dressing room. “We need you backstage.”

I moved across the room, swiping the flask out of the minion’s hand to take a lengthy, healthy swig before thrusting it back. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I belched.

“Let’s do this.”

On my way out the door, my manager, Becca, grabbed my wrist. “You know the deal.”

“I know. Say nothing. Even when the fans act like entitled little assholes.”

“Don’t mention what happened outside either.”

I laughed.

“You smell like a fucking brewery,” she said, disgusted.

Snatching my arm back, I strode out and went down the long hallway toward the stage. People parted as I walked, making room for me.

The wail of the crowd could be heard even back here. The act who warmed them up must have done their job. I couldn’t even remember who it was.

I didn’t care.

“Suit up!” someone yelled, and I was gestured toward the back. A few minutes later, I was strapped into some kind of harness with cables, and the crowd began to chant my name.

Anger rose up inside me. Anger at everything and everyone. Energy from the crowd, the music, everything in this entire building pressed in, fighting for room inside my body, pushing out who I was as a person, and dominating.

I was just a guest here. A guest in my own skin.

The air was thick with heat, even the A/C pouring through the large vents was no match for the way it suffocated everything around me. The crush of bodies, the lights, equipment—all created a barrier. The heat would only grow more intense as the show went on.

“You good?” one of the stagehands asked beside me.

I nodded.

“Just like rehearsals.” He reminded me.

I nodded again. I’d done this so much sometimes I dreamed about flying. Some nights it was a nightmare, falling into a dark, bottomless abyss. Just me falling, rapidly plummeting farther into nothing.

Other nights, it wasn’t so scary. It was a tease. I started out here, backstage, hooked up and ready to fly high. Only when my feet finally left the stage, everyone and everything fell away. I flew off, suddenly unbound by a harness and able to go anywhere I pleased. Away from here. Away from it all.

Free.

Music started up. Lights dimmed. People went wild. Adrenaline flooded my veins, and my stomach tilted a little. I blinked back the woozy feeling and shook my head slightly. When I opened my eyes, the world wasn’t tilted like my stomach and my feet were hovering over ground.

My voice filled the arena as it did every concert night. The fans couldn’t see me yet, but my words were everywhere.

“Perfection can be found between the rhythm and the beat.”

The familiar whooshing sound of fog machines pumping out mist filled the stage, and I stared down, watching it fill the space like fog on the set of a horror movie.

I kept going higher and higher above the thousands of people in attendance. Some had glow-sticks, waiving them around. Others had lighters. Some people just screamed.

The crush of bodies made me instantly tired. The anger I felt warred with the exhaustion. All these people claimed to love me… but I knew better.

Maybe some did, sure. But most? They were here to watch me fail. Hoping to see some bad behavior. Hoping I’d give them yet another reason to hate me.

I’d be front page news tomorrow, regardless of how well this concert went tonight. Regardless of how successful this entire tour had been.

I’d be the lead headline because I decked a “fan.” Never mind he was trying to fucking flour-bomb me, then attack me when that was thwarted.

Fuckers.

All of them.

Up here above it all, I got some sudden clarity. Like I was finally blissfully alone in a crowded arena.

The familiar beat of a song written just for me obliterated all other sounds. Below me, the crowd roared and bounced around, looking like a giant mosh pit.

A spotlight clicked on, illuminating me.

I went through the motions, the carefully choreographed movements.

“Who’s ready for the best night of your life?” I asked the crowd, and the harness swung me down closer.

Everyone seemed ready.

Everyone but me.

Maybe it was the vodka.

Maybe I was bat-shit crazy.

Maybe I just didn’t fucking care anymore.

Or…

Maybe it was the catalyst that saved my life.

Right there as I soared overhead all the adoring fans, something snapped inside me.

Since I was basically tied up, flying high, my options for getting away, for getting the hell out of there, were limited.

I did the first thing that popped into my mind.

Nimbly, my fingers reached for the zipper on my jeans. As the crew swung me toward the stage, I opened up. I released all the vodka that had been filling up my bladder and making me uncomfortable as hell.

I let it rain.

People started shrieking.

I heard my manager screaming in my earpiece. I ripped it out and threw it into the crowd.

“He’s pissing all over us!” someone shouted.

Complete chaos reigned.

I finished up and gave it a little shake. My feet hit the stage. The cords holding me snapped free. My band, everyone on stage with me, was gaping in shock.

I tucked myself back into my jeans, feeling much lighter than before. Everyone was still losing their minds. I held up my hands, and the place went silent.

Tomb silent.

I could have heard a freaking pin drop. Instead, I actually heard my own thoughts.

What the fuck are you doing? You just pissed on your fans. Literal piss.

Everyone waited for me to say something. Apologize. Claim I was sick.

Rotating my hands so my palms faced the crowd, I gave them the finger.

With both hands.

Now you know. The culmination of events.

How I became Public Enemy Number One.

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Author Bio:

Cambria Hebert is an award winning, bestselling novelist of more than twenty books. She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair.

Besides writing, Cambria loves a caramel latte, staying up late, sleeping in, and watching movies. She considers math human torture and has an irrational fear of chickens (yes, chickens). You can often find her running on the treadmill (she’d rather be eating a donut), painting her toenails (because she bites her fingernails), or walking her chorkie (the real boss of the house).

Cambria has written within the young adult and new adult genres, penning many paranormal and contemporary titles. Her favorite genre to read and write is romantic suspense. A few of her most recognized titles are: The Hashtag Series, Text, Torch, and Tattoo.

Cambria Hebert owns and operates Cambria Hebert Books, LLC.

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