Rush of Insanity
By Eden Summers
Genre: Contemporary, Erotic Romance
Date of Publication: February 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-943576-60-9
ISBN: 978-1-943576-60-9
Formats available: HTML, PDF, Mobi, ePub
Cover Artist: Erin DameronHill
Book Description:
She won’t go down without a fight…and he’s looking forward to it.
Book Description:
She won’t go down without a fight…and he’s looking forward to it.
Harper left the world-famous solo artist, Judd Hart, over a year ago. No matter how much she cared for him, their worlds were miles apart. All they shared was great sex and the ability to drive each other crazy. So why is she at his concert, drooling over the sound of his delicious voice, when she’s spent months convincing herself they can never work?
Letting Harper walk out on him was the biggest mistake of Judd’s life. And now that he’s sighted her amongst the crowd, he won’t let her run away again. Not even if it means holding her hostage on his tour bus until he can seduce some sense into her. They have a lot to work out, but this time, he will do whatever it takes to convince her they have a future.
Apart, their lives are smooth sailing. Together, it’s pure craziness. But sometimes it’s okay to enjoy the rush of insanity.
Excerpt:
He was still the stuff of fantasies. His tank was loose, exposing tanned, muscled arms. His chin-length hair was mussed, the tangled strands brushing against the barely visible stubble on his jaw like a lover’s fingers, and his drugging gaze beamed down at her from the projection screens at either side of the stage.
“Jensen, can you kill the glare and turn on the house lights?”
Oh, shit. She slunk into her chair as the stadium was bathed in a fluorescent glow. There was no way he could see her up here. But she felt exposed. Naked in front of a crowd of over fifteen thousand.
“That’s perfect. Now I can see all your gorgeous faces.” He strode to the front of the stage, his faded, ripped jeans exposing tempting parts of his legs as he searched the sea of fans. “It’s a simple game, last one standing wins.”
Shouts rang out—“What do we win?” “Are you the prize?” “Pick me, pick me.”
The last came from the person seated next to her—her best friend—which Harper was happy to counter with a Bitch, please glare.
Judd removed his earpiece and a satisfied smirk tilted his lips. “First question—hands up if you’re a local.”
The sea erupted with high flying fingers. Harper remained slumped, happy to sit this one out. Whatever the prize was, she didn’t want it. Not now. Not ever.
Shouts rang out—“What do we win?” “Are you the prize?” “Pick me, pick me.”
The last came from the person seated next to her—her best friend—which Harper was happy to counter with a Bitch, please glare.
Judd removed his earpiece and a satisfied smirk tilted his lips. “First question—hands up if you’re a local.”
The sea erupted with high flying fingers. Harper remained slumped, happy to sit this one out. Whatever the prize was, she didn’t want it. Not now. Not ever.
“Keep those hands high if you’ve been to one of my concerts before.”
Very few hands lowered, everyone still waving madly to gain any sort of attention.
“That’s awesome. I appreciate the loyalty.” He shaded his eyes, peering into the upper levels. “Now, this time, I want you to keep your hand raised and stand if you have all my albums. I mean CDs not downloads.”
Harper scoffed. She remembered a conversation with him a lifetime ago about CDs versus iTunes. He was a technology nut and loved having access to his music wherever he went. Whereas she preferred something tangible. Always would.
Groans murmured through the stadium as people lowered their hands and a lot less stood.
“You have all his CDs, don’t you?” Nicole nudged her arm. “Stand up.”
“No, thank you.”
Her friend huffed and pushed to her feet, raising her hand high.
“What the hell are you doing?” Harper tried to tug Nicole back down and was batted away by a swinging arm. “You don’t have all his CDs.”
“No. But you do. And if you’re not going to participate, I’ll do it for you.”
People in the row below shot them disapproving glares. People in the seats beside them, too. They didn’t understand the importance of being inconspicuous. Obviously, Nicole didn’t either.
“Sit the hell down,” Harper grated through clenched teeth.
She wasn’t only hiding from Judd, it was also his security team. Anyone who had worked on the previous tour would recognize her, and she didn’t want the man of the hour finding out she was here.
“Harper,” Nicole warned. “You’re ruining my night.”
“Mine, too,” the man beside her leaned forward to add.
She shot him a look that spoke of rage and insanity. “Fine.” She slunked as far down in her chair as possible without the threat of a back spasm and crossed her arms over her chest. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
“My next question will see most of your butts in seats—”
She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, wishing away the past and their inevitable end.
“—how many of you have a tattoo that contains my lyrics?”
Oh, shit. Harper’s stomach dissolved in a mass of tingles and the script on the side of her left arm itched. She opened her eyes to the stadium roof and measured her breathing. Slow in. Slow out. The question hit her in the feels, and she’d sat through enough emotional crap because of this man to last a lifetime.
No more. Please, no more.
She didn’t want to see the result of his question. To place a number on how many women had marked their body for Judd, like she had. But it was a train wreck she couldn’t refrain from witnessing.
She scooted back in her chair and hunted through the mass of people. One…Two…Three…Four… There were more on the lower levels and no doubt some were out of view. All female. Probably all grinning like they scored a role on The Bachelor, when in reality it highlighted their pathetic existence. And then there was Nicole, still standing proud at Harper’s side, inching closer to the cusp of being slaughtered.
“I wish you’d sit down,” she whispered, not hiding the plea in her tone. This was like a Mission Impossible pivotal life and death scene and Nicole simply didn’t understand the significance of being stealthy.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have had ‘love is an affliction,’ tattooed on your arm.”
“Last question.” Judd spoke over the top of them. “And this is the most important.”
She couldn’t help it, she inched to the edge of her seat, fully invested on what he said next. Judd might not be famous for crowd interaction, but he was a ladies man and she wanted to see the face of the wench who would win something from the charmer she used to claim as her own.
“Here goes.” Judd rubbed his hands together, glancing from woman to woman to woman. “Keep standing if your name is Harper Douglas.”
Oh, fuck.
Eden Summers is a true blue Aussie, living in regional New South Wales with her two energetic young boys and a quick witted husband. In late 2010, Eden’s romance obsession could no longer be sated by reading alone, so she decided to give voice to the sexy men and sassy women in her mind. Eden can’t resist alpha dominance, dark features and sarcasm in her fictional heroes and loves a strong heroine who knows when to bite her tongue but also serves retribution with a feminine smile on her face.
For more information on other books by Eden, visit her website:
Website
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Pinterest
Very few hands lowered, everyone still waving madly to gain any sort of attention.
“That’s awesome. I appreciate the loyalty.” He shaded his eyes, peering into the upper levels. “Now, this time, I want you to keep your hand raised and stand if you have all my albums. I mean CDs not downloads.”
Harper scoffed. She remembered a conversation with him a lifetime ago about CDs versus iTunes. He was a technology nut and loved having access to his music wherever he went. Whereas she preferred something tangible. Always would.
Groans murmured through the stadium as people lowered their hands and a lot less stood.
“You have all his CDs, don’t you?” Nicole nudged her arm. “Stand up.”
“No, thank you.”
Her friend huffed and pushed to her feet, raising her hand high.
“What the hell are you doing?” Harper tried to tug Nicole back down and was batted away by a swinging arm. “You don’t have all his CDs.”
“No. But you do. And if you’re not going to participate, I’ll do it for you.”
People in the row below shot them disapproving glares. People in the seats beside them, too. They didn’t understand the importance of being inconspicuous. Obviously, Nicole didn’t either.
“Sit the hell down,” Harper grated through clenched teeth.
She wasn’t only hiding from Judd, it was also his security team. Anyone who had worked on the previous tour would recognize her, and she didn’t want the man of the hour finding out she was here.
“Harper,” Nicole warned. “You’re ruining my night.”
“Mine, too,” the man beside her leaned forward to add.
She shot him a look that spoke of rage and insanity. “Fine.” She slunked as far down in her chair as possible without the threat of a back spasm and crossed her arms over her chest. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
“My next question will see most of your butts in seats—”
She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, wishing away the past and their inevitable end.
“—how many of you have a tattoo that contains my lyrics?”
Oh, shit. Harper’s stomach dissolved in a mass of tingles and the script on the side of her left arm itched. She opened her eyes to the stadium roof and measured her breathing. Slow in. Slow out. The question hit her in the feels, and she’d sat through enough emotional crap because of this man to last a lifetime.
No more. Please, no more.
She didn’t want to see the result of his question. To place a number on how many women had marked their body for Judd, like she had. But it was a train wreck she couldn’t refrain from witnessing.
She scooted back in her chair and hunted through the mass of people. One…Two…Three…Four… There were more on the lower levels and no doubt some were out of view. All female. Probably all grinning like they scored a role on The Bachelor, when in reality it highlighted their pathetic existence. And then there was Nicole, still standing proud at Harper’s side, inching closer to the cusp of being slaughtered.
“I wish you’d sit down,” she whispered, not hiding the plea in her tone. This was like a Mission Impossible pivotal life and death scene and Nicole simply didn’t understand the significance of being stealthy.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have had ‘love is an affliction,’ tattooed on your arm.”
“Last question.” Judd spoke over the top of them. “And this is the most important.”
She couldn’t help it, she inched to the edge of her seat, fully invested on what he said next. Judd might not be famous for crowd interaction, but he was a ladies man and she wanted to see the face of the wench who would win something from the charmer she used to claim as her own.
“Here goes.” Judd rubbed his hands together, glancing from woman to woman to woman. “Keep standing if your name is Harper Douglas.”
Oh, fuck.
About the Author:
Eden Summers is a true blue Aussie, living in regional New South Wales with her two energetic young boys and a quick witted husband. In late 2010, Eden’s romance obsession could no longer be sated by reading alone, so she decided to give voice to the sexy men and sassy women in her mind. Eden can’t resist alpha dominance, dark features and sarcasm in her fictional heroes and loves a strong heroine who knows when to bite her tongue but also serves retribution with a feminine smile on her face.
For more information on other books by Eden, visit her website:
Website
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