C H A P T E R 1

It started, appropriately, at a north London bookstore. Lexi was on

tour to promote her latest bestseller. The publisher had given her

a choice of B&Bs, and she chose this location, knowing the rock star

she’d had a crush on most of her life had a home in the area. She

didn’t actually expect to see him but thought she might “happen” to

walk by his famous house just to feel his vibe.

Her family, including her late husband, and friends always teased

her about her obsession with that hard-charging rock group, and

especially the founder and lead guitarist. She knew her fans would be

shocked if they knew, because of his bad-boy reputation, but it was

what it was. Obsessing over him fueled a low-burning rebel deep

inside, which surprised her. Scared her a little. And made her want

him even more.

It was a chilly, sunny morning and she decided to pop in the

nearby bookstore to sneak a peek at the display for her books before

taking a walk past his house. It was an affluent neighborhood of

historic houses, hilly streets lined with shops as well as local

restaurants.

Her habit of visiting bookstores to look for her books began when

she first was published. In the early days, she would slip into a

bookstore and find her books—usually there were only one or two

copies available. She’d take her special pen out of her purse and sign

them: Thank you for buying my book. Love, Lexi. Then she’d arrange

the books so the covers were facing out and, therefore, more

noticeable. She even started carrying stickers that said Author Signed

Copy to place on the front of the book. Then she’d post on social

media: “Find my signed books @” and name the store.

It wasn’t long before her books sold better, much better. She’d

introduce herself to the store staff”, take selfies with them, sign copies

and post. She’d also help the staff” move her books to more prominent

displays, “now that they’re signed by the author.”

This morning, she wanted to see what they were doing with her

books, but also gin up her courage to walk past Patrick “Paddy”

May’s house.

Several posh-looking customers milled about, even though the

bookstore had only been open fifteen minutes.North London for sure, she thought.

At the front entrance stood a large display of books by another

author she knew. Good for you, Colleen. The two Texans were friends

and sometimes made appearances together.

For a panicked second, Lexi thought her books weren’t featured

anywhere. Then she saw a large display of all her books along with a

poster featuring her photo and announcing her appearance at the

Royal Charity event the next night.

Then she froze.

There he was.

Standing at her display, holding her current release.

He glanced up, looking straight at her, seemingly as stunned as

she was.

He mouthed, “Oh my god, it’s you.”

They stood for a few noticeable minutes just looking at each

other. Then he smiled his trademark sweet smile and walked

toward her, lifting his right hand at first to shake, then switching to

his left hand when he remembered his favorite author had only

one hand, her left hand. Her right arm ended just below the

elbow.

Lexi loved Paddy even more because he was thoughtful enough

to “shake left.” The warmth of his palm pressing against hers melted

her nervousness.

“You are my favorite author.” Paddy’s voice was soft and gentle

like his smile. “I have everything you’ve ever written, including your

essays, and even your poetry books. Like everyone else, I also watch

your Cally series on the BBC.”

Lexi was flushed and stumbled for words. “Well, you’re my

favorite rock star, guitarist, producer, song writer…everything.”

They laughed and held hands much longer than a typical

handshake. Finally, they both looked at their hands and let go.

“You’re even more beautiful in person and your hair is much

redder than I thought.”

“Oh.” Lexi put her hand to her head.

“I’m sorry. Of all the things I want to say to you about how much

your writing has meant to me, and I say that. I’m such a huge fan, I’m

just gushing.”

“At least you can gush. I’m so thrilled to see you. I can’t think of a

thing to say, and I’m the writer.”

They stood like school kids waiting for one to ask the other for a

date.

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and made the

move. “Would you like to get some coffee? There’s a place just

around the corner.”

“Yes. That would be lovely.”

They walked toward the door when Paddy said, “Wait. I need to

buy your book first.” He held up the latest in her series Cally’s

Summer Adventures and walked to the register, where he greeted the

young woman at the counter like an old friend.

“Scarlett, I almost stole my first book from you this morning.”

She laughed. “Oh no, Paddy, I was watching you. I know where

to find you. Besides you’ll be back in a couple of days, and I could

charge you then, with interest added.”

Lexi took the opportunity to study her crush. He was clearly a

creative person, with near shoulder-length curly hair, jeans and a

colorful paisley shirt, but he was also an English gentleman. The shirt

was collared, his shoes were expensive trainers and he had on a jacket

that coordinated everything.

Paddy knew she was studying him. Fans had done that his whole

life. This was different somehow. He liked it.

She watched his hands. Long, slim fingers that she’d studied

many times on videos of his performances. Fingers she’d imagined

pleasuring her—she wondered now if that could become a reality.

After all, they both were single. At least, according to the tabloids, he

was single.

She felt a warm wet flush between her legs. Something she’d not

felt in a long time.

At that moment he glanced at her, smiling.

She blushed. He read my thoughts. I know he did.