The Hives Concert

During the summer vacation, I go overseas with my boyfriend, Cornell Glover, to attend his favorite music festival that is called the Tuchella Music Festival. When we are lining up to go into the venue under the sweltering heat of 86F, I go to the vendors nearby to buy him some iced bottled water. But by the time I get back, Cornell is gone. To make things worse, my digital ticket shows that it has already been checked in. Anxious, I call him and ask, "Have you gone in? Why does my ticket show that I've checked in?" Cornell replies, "Oh. I ran into Ellie Valdez, the intern from our department, just now. She was crying at the entrance because she couldn't get a ticket, so I gave yours to her." "Are you crazy? I was the one who got us those VIP front-row seats!" I exclaim. "Come on. It's not like you're interested in rock music. You'd just be scrolling on your phone after you get in. Ellie is a diehard fan. Don't you think you should let someone who appreciates the music have this instead?" Cornell says nonchalantly. I am so shocked that I don't know what to say. After a few seconds, I say in disbelief, "So you left me out here, all alone, for an intern's sake?" Cornell sounds dismissive as he says, "You can hear the music from outside anyway. Just find somewhere to sit and wait until the music festival ends. Don't be so selfish." I listen to the long, monotonous beep after he hangs up on me for a moment before calling my lead singer brother right away.

"Please, stop pushing. I can't take this anymore." The concert venue is packed tight. A man behind me keeps pressing into my backside. I'm wearing a mini skirt today with a thong underneath, and it only makes the situation worse. He lifts my skirt and presses himself against my hips. As the atmosphere heats up, someone in front of me slams into me, and I stumble back a step. My body stiffens as I feel like something just slid inside me.

"Please… stop pushing. I can't move." The concert crowd was packed and restless, bodies pressed tightly together. I found myself too close to the girl in front of me. She wore a short skirt that brushed against me every time the crowd surged. What caught my attention was how close we were: the faint warmth of her body through the thin fabric made my pulse quicken. For a brief moment, I thought I felt her react too, as if she sensed the same strange tension hanging between us.

** Don't Mess With The Rock Chicks Combined book - three stories in one place - Super Sexy Second Chance, Threesome, and BDSM ** Two Way Street, Book One Emily’s world comes crashing down around her when Owen breaks off their engagement in order to pursue a career as the lead guitarist of a band. When Owen’s backup singer calls in sick and Emily steps in to save the day she finds herself swept up in a crazy ride to the top of the music industry which might just save her relationship with Owen… or end it completely. Vice and Victor, Book Two Vice and Victor have a career plan and romance will have to wait, especially since their idea of an ideal romance, involves both of them and one woman. After being roofied by her music producer, Mirage is locked into completing another album with her rapist who has been feeding the industry lies about her. Mirage is not a fragile damsel in distress, she is a pop-rock chick, and she is fighting back. Raven's Luck, Book Three When his best friends ask Raven, a PI, to investigate Gregory Holmsworth, the grandfather of their girlfriend, Raven discovers that although on the surface Gregory Holmsworth’s business seems legit, his path has not always been on the right side of the law. Vixen is the lead singer of a punk band just breaking into the industry and works for Gregory. Whilst Raven has been looking into Gregory, Vixen has been looking into Raven, and she sends him an invitation to meet with her, luring him with the promise of a way into Gregory’s business and secrets. Vixen has other plans for Raven. She likes pretty boys, and broken things, and she has decided that Raven fits both descriptions to a tee.

Going through hell for a year extra was never Ivy's plan and by hell she means high school. She knows she isn't that smart but she thought she is at least smart enough to graduate high school and get into a fairly decent college. Too bad she is disillusioned when she watches her mates receive their diploma while she has to repeat 12th grade. As if hell wasn't hot enough, it becomes hotter when a new, hot, mysterious 25 year old substitute teacher replaces their maths teacher that is missing. Not only does the teacher look like a walking sex god, he also has tattoos all over his arms…just the type of man she's crazy about. Everyone wonders how someone like him got a job as a teacher and deciding that she needs something exciting in her life other than the bullying she faces at school and the abuse she faces at home, she attempts to seduce him and find out everything she needs about him. She wasn't expecting him to respond to her pathetic attempt at seduction but shockingly, he does and he becomes madly obsessed with her. Suddenly, Ivy's life becomes much more complicated as she becomes entangled in a sea of dangerous mess. Can she pull herself out or will she helplessly drown?

It was Thanksgiving. Bianca, the former high school queen bee, was getting married. She sent an e-invite to our private school group chat, tagging everyone. I was going to ignore it. Then, she @’d me directly: "Alessia, I know you faked your wealthy background in high school to show off. But I'm the bigger person. I'll let you come tomorrow. See what a real mafia wedding looks like." Her minions quickly chimed in. "You're too generous, Bianca! No wonder you're marrying into the inner circle of the Castiglione family. You even forgave a vain fake like Alessia!" "Alessia? At a mansion wedding? She'll just humiliate herself if she shows up." The chat was filled with trash talk, but Bianca played the saint. "Let it go, guys. It's in the past. She has nothing anyway. Let's not be hard on her." Right on cue, everyone praised her noble heart. I lay in my husband's massive, cold bed. My fingertips traced the family crest on the silk sheets. His crest. The most feared mafia Godfather in North America. I let out a cold laugh. Back then, she stole my Vitali family name. She turned me, a real mafia princess, into a pathetic wannabe. She made me a target for bullying and humiliation. I opened the e-invite. My eyes narrowed. The venue was my family's estate in the Hamptons. And the groom in the photo looked awfully familiar. Short hair, hooked nose, a scar on his chin. Wasn't that Nico? My husband Rocco's driver? A slow smirk touched my lips. A bloodthirsty glint flashed in my eyes. I grabbed the burner phone Rocco left on the pillow. I texted his private number: "Your lapdog is acting up on my turf." Then I replied in the group chat: "Sure. I'll be there."