Tag Archives: L.B. Dunbar

New release: Midlife Crisis by L.B. Dunbar

☆¸.•*¨*★☆★ NEW RELEASE! NOW LIVE! ★☆★¸.•*¨*☆

A sexy silver fox might be the perfect solution to a midlife crisis.

Midlife Crisis

Another romance for the over 40

L.B. Dunbar

Romantic Comedy

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2rZRo1b

Amazon CA: http://bit.ly/CAMidlifeCrisis

Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/UKMidlifeCrisis

Amazon AU: http://bit.ly/AUMidlifeCrisis

Cover Design: Shanoff Designs

Cover Model: Tom Ernsting

Midge Everette.

I’m forty-one today.

It’s my birthday,

And I’m crying over burnt toast.

That’s not some euphemism.

Literally, I’m sobbing over stupid bread,

so I call a crisis center.

I just need someone to talk to about life.

Only I recognize the smoky voice of the man on the line.

In the name of all things, don’t let it be…

Hank Paige.

As a former rock star,

I once had it all.

Fame. Fortune. Females.

Except for the one thing I wanted most.

Now, I fix cars and restore other people’s dreams.

I just want to be somebody’s someone.

And there’s a certain woman with captivating eyes,

I want to fulfill my dreams.

For the love of all things, please let it be her…

In the midst of questioning everything,

could love be the resolution to a midlife crisis?

+ o +

If you loved Tommy Carrigan in After Care meet his best friend and former drummer, Hank, as he discovers romance in his forties.

Book 2 of the silver fox, former rock stars can be read as a standalone.

Connect with L.B. Dunbar

http://www.lbdunbar.com

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Release Boost Blitz: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance by L.B. Dunbar

Title: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance

Series: Legendary Rock Stars #5

Author: L.B. Dunbar

Genre: Rock Star Romance

 Release Date: September 14, 2015

Blurb

Don’t judge me. I know you want to, but let’s get some facts straight in my defense.

1. I love Arturo King

2. Arturo left me behind.

3. I was lonely.

4. Lansing was an old friend.

5. I love Arturo King.

Did you burn the fictional damsel in distress that cuddled and kissed her best friend when her fantastical boyfriend disappeared for months? No, you didn’t. You sympathized with her loneliness before you read ahead to make sure the boyfriend was coming back to her. Loneliness is not a crime. It’s cruel to be alone, but not a crime, the last I knew. If it is a crime, I’ll light the match to ignite myself for what I’ve done. Goodness knows, I’m burning up with guilt as it is. In my defense, I want my story to be told before I’m judged too harshly. Arturo King might be a rock legend, but he and I are human. We make mistakes. We made mistakes. Do we need to suffer for all of eternity because of them? I hope not. The jury still seems to be out, though. The greater question is: Is it possible to rekindle our love, when the past could burn us all?

Links to Buy

AMAZON US / UK

Also Available

AMAZON US / UK

AMAZON US / UK

B&N / KOBO

AMAZON US / UK

AMAZON US / UK

Excerpt

Prologue

Guinevere

If I ever wondered what the pits of hell felt like, I sensed my current position was similar to being in the fiery depths. The orange-yellow glow danced before me; blinding me to the man I knew was on the other side of the flames. His face was melting, fading in the fumes that surrounded and flowed from the heat. I sensed the wooden walls of the barn structure were crackling and eventually would crumble, but I continued to stand as if frozen. There would be no chance to freeze under the circumstances. If anything, I should be melting slowly to form a puddle on the floor. My skin felt as if it would peel off of me, one droplet of sweat at a time.

The blaze started in an attempt to gain Arturo’s attention. The boy wanted to impress his father: a rock god who stubbornly ignored his son, as he had done over a year ago in this same barn. The Barn. The place of inspiration for Arturo King and his band, The Nights. The place where they performed their magic through music. The place that marked where history was made.

I continued to stare through the flames that separated us. I could see that his lips were moving; calling or shouting out to me, but I couldn’t hear over the roar of the fire. His face was warped in my vision, drifting with the bright light that framed his head filled with dark waves and a jaw covered thicker than before. His brown eyes looked black as they stared back at me. I was trapped. The flames formed a wall between me and my beloved; a man I loved more than anyone. A man who I hurt more than I ever intended. A man who hurt me with his mysterious disappearance and lack of communication.

I didn’t move. Allowing the heat to consume me, I decided this might be my fate. Death by fire was how the adulteress was punished in ancient times. Of course, in romance novels a hero comes to the aid of the persecuted. My mind flashed to another man. He had been a hero to a little girl trapped within a burning building. He had been my hero, as well, when I was kidnapped in a drugged induced haze. He was someone I should not have been thinking of.

I continued to watch the movement of Arturo’s mouth. The roar of the flames was all that I heard. It made music to my ears, drowning out the accusations.

How could I do it? How could I be with another man?

The world seemed to stop as I struggled to give my answers. In contrast, it came alive in an orange glow that spread rapidly along the old wooden floor. My back was now against the warmth of the stones behind me. It was almost like I imagined a brick oven would feel. The ancient fieldstones were absorbing the heat and reflecting it back within the cramped space. Wood crackled above my head. The ripping sound only assured me that my end was eminent. The walls were catching and the barn was doomed to collapse.

Suddenly, I heard my name. The voice that screamed to me was clear, familiar, and not the voice that should have called for me.

“Guinie, turn around and reach up your hand,” he shouted down to me. It was like an angel spoke to me from the heavens. I couldn’t break my gaze on Arturo, but he was gesturing above me. His expression showed he clearly recognized who was over me, who was calling me. His eyes found mine through the flames and he nodded once. Then he looked away and I quickly spun reaching upward blindly. My eyes were dry, boiled orbs within their sockets. The smoke so thick, I confused it for fog. Stretching, my fingers connected with those reaching down for me. One hand was clasped, the opposite wrist encircled, and up I went into the freshness of the cool summer afternoon air. The scent of pine and lake water burned my smoke encrusted nose and I gasped for more oxygen. It was like I’d been drowning. A brief sensation I’d had a year ago in the water of that lake below.

My mind was clouded, but a passing image flashed of Arturo and me spinning in the blue water. He’d kissed me for the first time on that day then rolled us off the boat into the water in distraction. We were playful then. Not today. I heard his voice ringing in my head; his words enflamed with his bitterness.

How could I do it? Didn’t I love him? 

I balanced on hands and knees in the dry earth near the burning barn. My throat was hoarse from gassy fumes and screams. I called out his name one more time, and then the inevitable happened. The wooden structure collapsed.

Author Bio

L.B. Dunbar loves the original legend of King Arthur. Inspired by this classic tale, she pulled over to the side of the road to take notes when it hit her that if King Arthur lived today, he’d be a rock star. A lover of fairy tales, myths, legends, and anything with happily ever after, she loves to read and write contemporary romance. Her Legendary Rock Stars series is complete with the final tale: The Trials fo Guinevere DeGrance, but the story began with The Legend of Arturo King. She also wrote The Sensations Collection, which includes five stand alones based on the five senses in a small town setting near Lake Michigan. Raised on one side of that lake, she grew up in Michigan, but now lives on the other side, in Chicago. Mother to four, wife to the one and only, and teacher to hundreds of former students, she looks forward to sharing more stories in the future.

Author Links

ARC REVIEW: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance Series: Legendary Rock Stars #5 by L.B. Dunbar

Title: The Trials of Guinevere DeGrance
Series: Legendary Rock Stars #5
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Rock Star Romance
 Release Date: September 14, 2015
Blurb
Don’t judge me. I know you want to, but let’s get some facts straight in my defense.1. I love Arturo King

2. Arturo left me behind.

3. I was lonely.

4. Lansing was an old friend.

5. I love Arturo King.

Did you burn the fictional damsel in distress that cuddled and kissed her best friend when her fantastical boyfriend disappeared for months? No, you didn’t. You sympathized with her loneliness before you read ahead to make sure the boyfriend was coming back to her. Loneliness is not a crime. It’s cruel to be alone, but not a crime, the last I knew. If it is a crime, I’ll light the match to ignite myself for what I’ve done. Goodness knows, I’m burning up with guilt as it is. In my defense, I want my story to be told before I’m judged too harshly. Arturo King might be a rock legend, but he and I are human. We make mistakes. We made mistakes. Do we need to suffer for all of eternity because of them? I hope not. The jury still seems to be out, though. The greater question is: Is it possible to rekindle our love, when the past could burn us all?
Links to Buy
AMAZON US / UK
Also Available
AMAZON US / UK
AMAZON US / UK
AMAZON US / UK
AMAZON US / UK
Excerpt

Prologue

Guinevere

If I ever wondered what the pits of hell felt like, I sensed my current position was similar to being in the fiery depths. The orange-yellow glow danced before me; blinding me to the man I knew was on the other side of the flames. His face was melting, fading in the fumes that surrounded and flowed from the heat. I sensed the wooden walls of the barn structure were crackling and eventually would crumble, but I continued to stand as if frozen. There would be no chance to freeze under the circumstances. If anything, I should be melting slowly to form a puddle on the floor. My skin felt as if it would peel off of me, one droplet of sweat at a time.

The blaze started in an attempt to gain Arturo’s attention. The boy wanted to impress his father: a rock god who stubbornly ignored his son, as he had done over a year ago in this same barn. The Barn. The place of inspiration for Arturo King and his band, The Nights. The place where they performed their magic through music. The place that marked where history was made.

I continued to stare through the flames that separated us. I could see that his lips were moving; calling or shouting out to me, but I couldn’t hear over the roar of the fire. His face was warped in my vision, drifting with the bright light that framed his head filled with dark waves and a jaw covered thicker than before. His brown eyes looked black as they stared back at me. I was trapped. The flames formed a wall between me and my beloved; a man I loved more than anyone. A man who I hurt more than I ever intended. A man who hurt me with his mysterious disappearance and lack of communication.

I didn’t move. Allowing the heat to consume me, I decided this might be my fate. Death by fire was how the adulteress was punished in ancient times. Of course, in romance novels a hero comes to the aid of the persecuted. My mind flashed to another man. He had been a hero to a little girl trapped within a burning building. He had been my hero, as well, when I was kidnapped in a drugged induced haze. He was someone I should not have been thinking of.

I continued to watch the movement of Arturo’s mouth. The roar of the flames was all that I heard. It made music to my ears, drowning out the accusations.

How could I do it? How could I be with another man?

The world seemed to stop as I struggled to give my answers. In contrast, it came alive in an orange glow that spread rapidly along the old wooden floor. My back was now against the warmth of the stones behind me. It was almost like I imagined a brick oven would feel. The ancient fieldstones were absorbing the heat and reflecting it back within the cramped space. Wood crackled above my head. The ripping sound only assured me that my end was eminent. The walls were catching and the barn was doomed to collapse.

Suddenly, I heard my name. The voice that screamed to me was clear, familiar, and not the voice that should have called for me.

“Guinie, turn around and reach up your hand,” he shouted down to me. It was like an angel spoke to me from the heavens. I couldn’t break my gaze on Arturo, but he was gesturing above me. His expression showed he clearly recognized who was over me, who was calling me. His eyes found mine through the flames and he nodded once. Then he looked away and I quickly spun reaching upward blindly. My eyes were dry, boiled orbs within their sockets. The smoke so thick, I confused it for fog. Stretching, my fingers connected with those reaching down for me. One hand was clasped, the opposite wrist encircled, and up I went into the freshness of the cool summer afternoon air. The scent of pine and lake water burned my smoke encrusted nose and I gasped for more oxygen. It was like I’d been drowning. A brief sensation I’d had a year ago in the water of that lake below.

My mind was clouded, but a passing image flashed of Arturo and me spinning in the blue water. He’d kissed me for the first time on that day then rolled us off the boat into the water in distraction. We were playful then. Not today. I heard his voice ringing in my head; his words enflamed with his bitterness.

How could I do it? Didn’t I love him? I balanced on hands and knees in the dry earth near the burning barn. My throat was hoarse from gassy fumes and screams. I called out his name one more time, and then the inevitable happened. The wooden structure collapsed.

My Thoughts:

Copy gifted by the author in exchange for an honest review.

I was so excited to be back to the world of The Nights. I squeaked when I saw the sign ups for the tour.

This part is an amazing addition to the whole series. It gives more deep feelings toward Arturo. After his return he no longer is the same man. He feels half his old self. And the other half is a damaged wrack of a man he used to be. He is not able to play his guitar and on top of it, the only woman he loved is keeping her distance.

Coming back for him was not easy and winning the people he loved was even harder.

But I loved the most? Guinnie’s determination. In the first book I thought she was a bit of a weaker character… but here? Here I loved her! She rocked!

Of course, LB couldn’t make the book easy peasy so there were moments of frustration, anger and I really wanted to join them in the story to shout at them to get a grip and stop being so dumb with all those secrets that are totally not needed! Ugh. Even thinking about it now makes me angry.

Overall the book deserves fan-freaking-tastic 5 stars!! ❤

Author Bio

L.B. Dunbar loves the original legend of King Arthur. Inspired by this classic tale, she pulled over to the side of the road to take notes when it hit her that if King Arthur lived today, he’d be a rock star. A lover of fairy tales, myths, legends, and anything with happily ever after, she loves to read and write contemporary romance. Her Legendary Rock Stars series is complete with the final tale: The Trials fo Guinevere DeGrance, but the story began with The Legend of Arturo King. She also wrote The Sensations Collection, which includes five stand alones based on the five senses in a small town setting near Lake Michigan. Raised on one side of that lake, she grew up in Michigan, but now lives on the other side, in Chicago. Mother to four, wife to the one and only, and teacher to hundreds of former students, she looks forward to sharing more stories in the future.

Author Links

The Quest For Perkins Vale (Legendary Rock Star #3)

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Title: The Quest For Perkins Vale (Legendary Rock Star #3)

Author: L.B. Dunbar

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: June 22, 2015

goodreads

Synopsis

I’m not sure I know what to think of the girl I’ve searched for since I was thirteen; she isn’t exactly how I remembered her.

I’m twenty-five, a guy and a virgin. Yep, you read that right; I’m still a virgin. Why you ask? Because I met the woman of my dreams when she was still a girl and I’ve been searching for her ever since we met. I’ve saved myself for her, as I believe she saved herself for me. Why again? Because I will love her, like she will love me, when we finally meet, again. I’d like to think it was that simple, but I don’t really know if she will love me. I only hope she will. If she doesn’t, she won’t be the right girl for me, because like I said, I’ve been saving myself for the woman of my dreams. I just don’t know where she is…but I won’t stop searching until I find her. That is my mission. My quest.

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Excerpt

The Quest of Perkins Vale © 2015 L.B. Dunbar

“We met before. A long time ago in what I believe was your uncle’s home.”

She only nodded, waiting for me to continue. Her hesitancy told me she might not remember me, and I felt a pinch in my heart. I’d been holding onto the memory for so long. I knew it was dangerous to hope she had held the memory, as well.

“My uncle has many homes. Which one was it?”

I paused. She didn’t remember; it was obvious.

“The one near Lake Avalon.”

She only nodded in an I-see sort of way.

“And you know my uncle, how?”

I began to wonder when this became her question and answer time versus mine.

“Arturo’s father was a friend of his.”

“Arturo? Was he the guy on the other bike?”

I stopped flipping the bacon and pinched my eyebrows at her.

“Yes. Arturo King.”

She continued to look at me without recognition.

“You do know who Arturo King is, right?”

“Isn’t he the lead singer of The Nights?”

“Yeah. The band playing last night at The Round Table.”

I continued to stare at her, hesitant in my words, hopeful that she recognized the band.

“And that makes you….?”

I looked at her suddenly aghast.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Of course, you’re…” She paused.

I couldn’t believe it. She had no idea who I was.

“You don’t know, do you? How could you get on the bike with me, if you had no idea who I was?”

I began to beat the eggs briskly before dumping them into the ready skillet.

“I…” She stopped.

I returned my surprised face to look at hers.

“Do you make it a habit of going home with strangers? Men you don’t know?”

“I…” She looked hurt suddenly, but her face changed instantly to a hard shield. “It’s none of your damn business who I go home with or not. You practically kidnapped me. Once I was on the bike, it’s not like I had a choice. Ride or die.”

“Ride or die?” I choked, a side of my lips curling upward, biting back a laugh.

“Yeah. Ride, or jump off and die.”

I returned to flipping the bacon, thoughtful for a moment.

“I would never hurt you,” I said softly, still looking at the sizzling meat in the pan.

Silence filled the space next to the crackle of frying bacon.

“Will you please tell me who you are?” she finally asked, her voice no more than a whisper. “We won’t be strangers once you tell me your name.”

Sighing, I responded, “I’m Perkins Vale.”

Although I’d heard it before, I hardly expected it from her.

“Alan Vale’s son?”

Yep. For someone who hardly recognized Arturo King, and didn’t recognize me as Perkins Vale, she knew Alan Vale?

You know my father, but not me?” I couldn’t hold it in and laughed without humor.

“Alan Vale was one of the greatest singer-guitarists of all times. His band won Grammys when they were young and old. The Valentines are classic.”

Classic, I thought. Greatest, I almost choked.

“I didn’t know him,” I bit out. Silence filled the air again between us.

Plating eggs and bacon for her, I served her before I did the same for myself. I sat on a stool that made me perpendicular to her, so I could almost face her. She took several small bites of the food as if she was afraid it might poison her, but I devoured the meal, which I hoped prove to her it was safe to eat.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “about your dad.”

“It’s nothing.”

I took a final gulp of coffee to steel my courage and ask her questions.

“Why were you in a women’s shelter?”

“You think I…” She stopped. “How do you know my name again?” she interrupted herself, as she squinted at me.

“I know your uncle. Women’s shelter? Why?”

“We’ve met before?”

I had already concluded she didn’t remember our first meeting.

“This is not how this is going to happen, Hollister.” I needed to change the direction of this inquisition. “I have questions, then you can have yours.”

Delicately, she placed her fork on her plate and crossed her arms under her chest, forcing her breasts to rise. It distracted me and my body reacted again to her. I had to divert my eyes from the temptation of wanting to know what it felt like to cup them, tug them with my mouth, bite her nipples to see how hard they could get, and make her scream without hardly touching her.

Her gaze on me narrowed again.

“Are you done yet? I know your reputation.”

I laughed, this time in earnest.

“You don’t know me, but you know of my reputation?”

“Who hasn’t heard of the Hands-Free Lover?”

“What?” I choked, although I had heard that God-awful nickname amongst many others.

“Hands-Free Lover. Known to make a woman scream in ecstasy without even touching her.”

“Wow. That’s powerful stuff.” I smiled.

She still held those narrowed steel eyes on me.

“Want to find out?” I added.

Her red lips opened wide in shock, and I’d gone too far again. I’d always had trouble with that, which is why I didn’t know how to communicate with women. I knew the ways of women: how to please them and make them scream, but I couldn’t talk to them. I always felt I’d say the wrong thing. I always asked too many questions, except for the right question all those years ago. My mind slipped back to my purpose with her.

“Never mind.” I straightened my back. “I need to ask you about your uncle.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“Joseph?”

The surprise wasn’t hidden on my face.

“Joseph? I thought your uncle was Roy.”

She had a thoughtful, contemplative look for a moment.

“Hmm…Joseph.”

Something was off. I didn’t believe her, but I let it go for now. I felt this was going too far, too fast again. I needed her to trust me. I wanted to prove she could trust me.

“I need a shower,” I said. “Give me ten minutes and then I promise to drive you back to the shelter after we talk.”

She relaxed her shoulders and let her crossed arms slide down her stomach to form resting hands in her lap. Hanging her head slightly, she nodded to agree with me. Feeling triumphant, I jumped off of my stool, leaving the dishes, and heading for my room. Entering the bathroom, I saw her clearing the dishes and starting the sink to wash them. I had a strange flash of her doing that action again, and I smiled to myself as I entered the shower.

The trouble was I also thought of her standing in only the Swamp the Crows t-shirt, minus the leggings, minus anything else, in front of that sink; or better yet, completely naked against my kitchen counter. I envisioned me coming up behind her and covering her hands on the edge of the counter, holding her captive, while I rubbed myself against her bare ass. I imagined what she would sound like: a soft moan and a slight whimper. I imagined sliding my knee between her thighs, forcing her to spread her legs and then rubbing my throbbing length against her warmth.

I grabbed myself in the shower, unable to resist the heaviness in my hands. I had to get release to stop thinking of her that way. I needed answers first. I slipped my palm upward, jerking several times as I began to imagine what it would feel like to enter her. How tight. How warm. How wet.

I had to place a hand on the slick tile to hold my large body steady as I jerked one more time and spilled into the warm cascade of water. I could only imagine what she would feel like, because I didn’t know. I hadn’t known any woman like that. Ever. At twenty-five, I was still a virgin.

About The Author

LB

L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and the upcoming Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

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My thought on the series:

I have received an ARC copy of all books from the Author in exchange for an honest review.

The Legend of Arturo King (Legendary Rock Star, #1)

 

WOW! I loved this book so much! I have no idea why I haven’t read it earlier! It’s that good!!

The story, the writing style, the characters….everything is just simply AMAZING! Once I started I swallowed all 3 book in 2 days. I’m not joking! I barely slept! And with parents in law visiting me is a big thing! LOL

But the book!

Arturo *drool and swoon* is hot, sexy and knows what he wants. He is famous in music business. He is a legend. A talented one. Discovering all about his past and his real family roots changes everything for him.

And then he meets her…Guinevere. His soul mate and fellow musician. I loved how their relationship grew. The chemistry, the sparks. Ugh. So perfect!

I really enjoyed the book, not only because of the rockstar theme, romance, but also the mystery! I suggest that you will pay close attention to all those little clues Ms. Dunbar is throwing our way! They are important!

Amazing 5 stars!!

 

The Story of Lansing Lotte (Legendary Rock Star, #2)

 

Another amazing book from this Author! I loved this book so much!!! I admit I fell in love with Arturo and because he is a greedy SOB, he doesn’t want to let go of my heart, so Lansing is second, but he is a close up with Arturo 😉

This book is told from the first perspective, but we can also get glimpses of other people and the perspective is better, in my opinion.

The main character, Lansing, is supposed to be a hero, but his behaviour around woman is a mean and causing him to hurt them. Badly. And even thought he wants to avoid that he can’t help himself. Most of the time I wanted to slap him, shake him and then kiss the pain away…. So you can see my conflict here. Normally I would hate a person like that, but the moments when he is all amazing? *swooooon*

 

There is so much I would love to say, but I’m afraid I will spoil the book, so it’s better if you guys ju8st read it 😉

Amazing, well deserved 4.5 stars from me!!

 

The Quest of Perkins Vale (Legendary Rock Stars #3)

Where to start….

uuummmm….

OMG!!!! I LOVE IT!!! I think I was won over by Perkins and now Arturo is second! I did not expect to be hooked on someone else! But a hot drummer? YES PLEASE! He is quiet, sexy and makes your knees go all wobbly for simply being in the same room.

He is not the SOB as the rest of the group and is not going through the women as fast as the rest of them. He wants THE ONE that got away 12 years go. And he is determined to find her. And when he finally finds her, he has a new mission. A mission that has one goal only: make her fall for him as hard as he has fallen for him.

I have liked Perkins from the beginning, but I didn’t fell in love him until his story, when we can see how amazing he is as a musician and a person.

He is one of those book boyfriends that you want to scream: forget about her TAKE ME!!!

I loved the series and I hope it’s not the end!!

Drool worthy 5 stars!!

 

And as I like to tease 😉 here is the first chapter for you!

 

The night of the concert…

[Perkins]

 

Arturo King and I rode side by side. The Ducati Monster 1200 screamed under me while Arturo steered Lansing’s red Streetfigher 848. We raced through the dark night down the short, dimly lit avenue outside The Round Table, taking a quick left in unison to be joined by two other bikes. At first, I thought it was Mel Agent or someone who worked for Mel. Not putting it past the asshole, as he had already tried to kidnap Guinevere DeGrance, Arturo’s fiancée, almost a month ago. The adrenaline rushed through my body, vibrating with anger. Mel had slipped a date rape drug into Guinie’s drink and hiked her back to his apartment, in hopes of taking advantage of her.

Firmly pulling down on the throttle, I sensed Mel’s intentions were the same again tonight toward her: the girl on the back of my bike. The girl with her small hands gripping the back of my t-shirt under my leather jacket, refusing to wrap her arms around me, despite the fact her legs were hugging my thick thighs from behind. I would have felt safer for her if she had a better hold on me, securing her arms around me, but it was bad enough I forced her out of The Round Table with me.

Glancing at Arturo to my right, he signaled with his head to turn ahead. We took the next corner quickly, but the bikes behind us kept an even pace. They were close, but not too close. Yet. Arturo King was one of my best friends. He’d befriended me when few others did in those woods around Lake Avalon. He’d been the one to offer me a place in the band. He was the one who never laughed at my awkwardness. He seemed to understand who I was and who I wanted to be. I was indebted to the lead singer and songwriter of our band, The Nights, for many things. Now, I owed him one more.

He’d helped me get away, with the girl.

We cornered a turn again at the third left; not bothering to downshift to slow, and immediately sped through the alley. Arturo hit the throttle, making the engine of Lansing’s bike scream down the narrow space, clipping a trashcan to spill behind us, knowing that the two bikes were truly following us. The sound of a racing engine and the crash of tin cans on cement made a ruckus in the otherwise quiet area. I sensed Arturo’s plan to outrun our followers, and I kept a steady pace next to my partner. We barely downshifted as we reached the first crossroad off the alley, zipping across the, thankfully, abandoned street, with little more than a glance left or right. The girl finally slid her hands around my abs. For a brief second, I thought her hands might have lingered as they slipped around me, feeling the hardness of my stomach. Her palms were flat for a moment, and then she gripped my dark t-shirt in her small fists again as we bumped out into another cross street.

“They’re after me,” she yelled over the roar of the fierce engine.

I couldn’t be positive she was right, but I didn’t doubt it either. If these were Mel’s men, they wouldn’t stop until they got what Mel wanted. If he wanted the girl, he would do anything to get her.

“Drop me off,” she yelled.

Fuck no. I wouldn’t lose her again.

In a last minute decision, we turned again with Arturo twisting his neck to look behind us as we raced toward the thoroughfare near Central Park. Giving a quick nod to me, I looked over my shoulder, as well, to see the first biker skitter into the street before correcting himself. We took one more turn and I was convinced we might lose our pursuers. We hit the larger boulevard and collectively cranked our respective throttles, speeding over eighty miles per hour through the steady crowded New York City streets. Within seconds, I heard the sound of the approaching motorcycles.

“They’re gaining on us,” the girl yelled into my ear.

I glance  at Arturo again, who nodded his head for us to separate. I barely noticed that Arturo slowed slightly as if allowing me time to speed ahead and save the girl.

Continuing through the late night traffic, I downshifted to a more legal speed, as I noticed the other motorcycles followed Arturo. They hadn’t wanted the girl, after all, and were probably paparazzi of some type. Arturo King was good at dodging them, so I had faith in my fellow bandmate that he’d outrun the guys chasing behind. I turned the Ducati off the boulevard around Central Park, moments after our separation from Arturo, and headed toward a less reputable part of the city. The girl behind me had grown quiet after we separated from Arturo. If it weren’t for the solidness of her pressed against my back, I might have thought I was alone.

I sped the large bike down a side street that had the street sign stolen by some kids a week or two ago. On the right were several two-story buildings that housed some type of daytime business; the left side was an expanse of several low buildings, once warehouses, along the river’s dwindling bank. I didn’t bother to know what the business across the street from my building did during the day. Something that required people from nine to five was all I knew. But on my side of the street, one warehouse had been converted into a pet shelter. The other building was vacant. Then, there was my building in between.

I punched in a code to open the service-garage-looking door, with blackened windows, and rode the Ducati into the large industrial space. It was a statement of automotive art inside this garage. Pristine motorcycle parts dangled from the ceiling near a large black Cadillac SUV. A second Ducati Streetfighter, similar to the one Arturo rode that belonged to Lansing Lotte, was parked next to the shiny vehicle. A classic 1950 motorcycle, named The Black Shadow that belonged to my long ago mentor, was the pivotal statement to my love of bikes. This wasn’t an automotive shop or a bike garage; this was the place of honor to house my collection.

I pulled the Ducati Monster next to the red Streetfighter and cut the engine. I paused for a moment as the girl still sat astride behind me. Thinking I needed to help her off the bike before I could swing my large leg over the seat, I twisted slightly to look at her over my shoulder. Her head was moving slowly from side to side, taking in the space around her before her eyes met mine, or what I thought were her eyes meeting mine, as she still had on the helmet.

“I live in the back,” I offered, to assure her that we weren’t staying in a cold garage for the night.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she snipped, then slid her leg over the seat to stand to the side of the bike. Removing the helmet I’d given her to protect her, midnight black hair tumbled out of its confinement and cascaded over her shoulders. She wore an oversized army issue jacket, which I sensed was two sizes too big for her. Her shapely legs were covered by the length of the coat to her knees, but tight black leggings peeked out underneath. Those legs were strong, despite her average height, and matched my firm thighs as she sat behind me on the bike, clenching occasionally as we flew through the city streets. Black female combat boots that were meant to be stylish were scuffed and worn on her feet.

My eyes travelled back up to her face, and steel gray eyes looked into my dark brown ones. Nervously, I ran a hand over my nearly shaved head, feeling the soothing sensation of the short-cropped hair. Thinking of her comment, I didn’t respond as I swung my own leg off the bike and pointed in a direction for her to walk. I strolled behind her then reached around her to enter another code and open the solid security door to my living space.

I played the drums and they were the first things she could see as we entered my large open room. They were the focal point of my life. I’d purchased the warehouse because I couldn’t live anywhere else and practice at my will. An apartment had neighbors too close. A neighborhood wasn’t my thing. I could have built a house further outside the city, but I didn’t want to. I’d grown up in seclusion. I didn’t want to be alone again. The irony was I was alone in my warehouse home.

The drum set was the centerpiece to a room furnished with an oversized couch facing the kit and a large screen television on the wall behind the set. A workout bench, with weights, was slightly hidden behind the dark couch. Two large darkened windows were the only hint to outside. My kitchen was open to this living space with a large island being the only thing separating the two areas. There was no table for dining, but stools stood around two sides of the island. There was only one bedroom off the kitchen, which held a king-size bed and a tall dresser. I lived simply, sparsely, as if I could pack up and move in a matter of hours. But it was more than that. I didn’t need much. I liked life simple, compared to my upbringing. It was a strange combination of what I had and didn’t have.

“The bathroom’s over there.” I pointed toward a door that had a window of etched glass on the upper half. “If you want to clean up.”

She stood in my living area, still holding the motorcycle helmet against her middle as if a shield, protecting her from me. I knew I frightened her, despite her sharp tongue. My size alone was a lot to take in. I’d lost the baby fat I had as a young adolescent when I eventually went to high school. The taunting words of other children were cruel to a boy too large at a young age, and their insults inspired me to lose weight. Tristan Lyons, the fourth and final member of the band, was also a positive force in motivating me to work out daily. Tristan had the face of a male model and a body to match. He got girls instinctively, while I didn’t understand women at all. My experience with them was severely limited, despite the notoriety of my fellow band members. I had a reputation, though. One I didn’t think I quite deserved.

“So that’s it? I should freshen up, before…” She waved her delicate hand to motion between the two of us.

I was taken aback at her meaning for a moment until realization hit me, my face giving away my own embarrassment.

“You think I brought you here to…” I trailed off like she had, copying her hand gesture between us.

She nodded in response.

“Uhm. No,” I added after my face relaxed, and one side of my lips curled up in a crooked smile.

She was thoughtful for a moment, squinting those powerful gray eyes at me, before she replied,

“Why not?”

Again I was shocked. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with her in that way. Hell, I’d been dreaming of her for years, almost thirteen to be exact. But tonight wasn’t the night for that fantasy to play out.

“Would you like something to eat? Drink?” I asked, shifting the awkward conversation as I brushed passed her to the kitchen area and opened the industrial fridge door. I didn’t have much as I lived alone: a few beers, a couple bottles of water, a sports drink, and some orange juice.

“You’re offering me something to drink?” Her voice displayed her sheer puzzlement at my question.

Agreeing to take a water, I reached for two, unscrewing the cap on hers before handing the cool bottle to her. Her fingers brushed mine when she yanked the bottle from me, rather forcefully. My eyes jumped to her face, which showed no reaction to our physical contact. I, on the other hand, felt an electric spark travel directly to a body part I couldn’t control. I remembered the sensation from being around her before. It was an instantaneous response to her aggressive stance.

“So…what’s going on here?” she said, looking around the sparsely furnished room again.

“I live here…and you’re staying here tonight. To be safe.”

“Safe?!” she choked loudly on the word. “You just kidnapped me.”

“I…I did not,” I stammered, taking in the disgusted look on her face. Had I kidnapped her? Taken her against her will?

I stood there recalling quickly what had transpired in the bar before I had her on the back of the bike.

 

 

The Quest For Perkins Vale (Legendary Rockstars #3) by L.B. Dunbar

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Title: The Quest For Perkins Vale (Legendary Rockstars #3)

Author: L.B. Dunbar

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: June 22, 2015

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Synopsis

I’m not sure I know what to think of the girl I’ve searched for since I was thirteen; she isn’t exactly how I remembered her.

I’m twenty-five, a guy and a virgin. Yep, you read that right; I’m still a virgin. Why you ask? Because I met the woman of my dreams when she was still a girl and I’ve been searching for her ever since we met. I’ve saved myself for her, as I believe she saved herself for me. Why again? Because I will love her, like she will love me, when we finally meet, again. I’d like to think it was that simple, but I don’t really know if she will love me. I only hope she will. If she doesn’t, she won’t be the right girl for me, because like I said, I’ve been saving myself for the woman of my dreams. I just don’t know where she is…but I won’t stop searching until I find her. That is my mission. My quest.

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Excerpt

The Quest of Perkins Vale © L.B. Dunbar

Perk walked to his bed and sat with a plop on the edge. It was going to be smaller than the king size bed in his home in the city, but if I thought about it, we slept close to each other every night when we were together. The smaller mattress would make no difference.

“It seems that everywhere I turn, someone knew you. Someone knew where you were. I’ve been searching for you for twelve years, and I was the only one who didn’t know where you were, while everyone else did.”

“Twelve years?” I asked, as I came to sit next to him.

He rubbed a hand down his face and told me about a rainy night long ago in a decrypted home. He claimed he saw me, with Elaine and Elliott, at the side of my sick uncle’s bed. It seemed a mystery to me that the same man who found me in the tent, had been the boy I scolded outside my uncle’s manor house. It seemed a bit like destiny that he kept finding me, although I didn’t remember him as clearly. He was a boy at a confusing time. He was a teenager at a time of dismay. Now, he was a man.

When his tale was complete, he looked a bit exhausted as if the weight of years got heavier instead of lifting off his shoulders. I was barely dressed as I left the bathroom in one of his large t-shirts. He undressed down to his boxers, which had become his custom and he covered us in his teenage bed.

I had to giggle as I snuggled up to face him.

“How many girls did you have in this thing?” I laughed, a bit bitterly with hope that the number wasn’t large.

“None,” he said immediately.

“Come on. No high school crush? Summer love? Stolen night or afternoon while your mother was away?”

“No one ever. In this bed.”

His words stunned me. Visions of Perk in hallways with women pinned to the wall and barrooms with girls on his lap filled my mind.

“Other beds, huh?” I questioned in disbelief. I’d seen his room the first night I stayed. It was obvious someone had slept there with him.

“No girl. No bed. Ever,” he repeated, staring up at the ceiling. He had one hand braced behind his head and the other lay between us, which wasn’t our customary position. I lay on my side, watching his body grow rigid with each part of my inquisition.

“I saw your room that first night. You’d had a girl there. Maybe not to sleep over, but someone had been there.” Bitterness was fully in my mouth at this point, as I envisioned someone else sleeping with him in the same manner we slept.

“No one in my bed. Before you,” he said, blowing out air. I could see his chest rising and falling exaggeratedly. If I didn’t know better, I thought he might be trying to calm himself as if he were about to explode at me.

“Perk, honest, it’s okay. I get it. You’re a rock star. Women have thrown themselves at you. It happens, right?” I wasn’t as convinced as I tried to sound, as if this was okay with me.

“Hollister, drop it. Please. There’s been no one else.”

“It’s fine, don’t tell me. I’m sure you’ve lost count,” I said snippily. Suddenly he turned to face me and the old mattress jiggled under his weight.

“I’m only going to say this once; one more time. There’s never been another woman in my bed. There’s never been any woman in any other bed with me. There hasn’t been any one else.”

From the glow of the moonlight outside his unshaded window, I saw his chocolaty eyes sparkle. His face was firm as he emphasized each word.

“Perkins, it’s okay…”

“Hollister, drop it,” he interrupted.

“I don’t need to know. I’m just…”

“I’m a virgin,” he blurted. The words hung in the darkened room.

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About The Author

LB

L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and the upcoming Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

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*** Release Blitz THE STORY OF LANSING LOTTE by L.B. Dunbar ♥ ***

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Title: The Story Of Lansing Lotte (Legendary Rockstars #2)

Author: L.B. Dunbar

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Date: April 28, 2015

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Synopsis

I get it. I’ve heard the jokes. My name sounds like some medieval character who was a hero. Hell, my best friend’s named Arturo King. Ring any medieval bells? But this is my story and I’m no hero. I also get the jokes. Lancelot is a play on the words lance and lot, and a lance refers to a sword, which is a euphemism for dick. What does a man do with his dick? He fucks. A lot. So if my name is Lansing Lotte, I must be “fucking lot.” Get it? Fucking a lot? Which I’m not saying I don’t, that’s not the point. Another reference to something sexual. Get my point? Huh, I made a punny. But again this is my story, and I haven’t done anything funny. In fact, I’ve killed three women, and only one of them I loved. Yeah, that’s right? Not laughing now. It’s not funny. And I’m definitely no fucking hero.

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Character Introduction: Lansing Lotte

Paisley Belle reporting for Guitar Central. Today’s interview is with Lansing Lotte, guitar hero for the award winning rock band, The Nights. Despite the recent tragedy for The Nights, I was able to sit down with Mr. Lotte in a small coffee shop down the street from his historical home in New York City. Perkins Vale, drummer, and Tristan Lyons, bass guitarist, will be joining us soon, but with the few private minutes alone, I begin my inquiry.

Let’s start with how you got into music?

L: My mother was the most instrumental in my introduction to the guitar. Pardon the pun. She was what you’d call laid back, a naturalist, almost hippy-like. Music surrounded us and she eventually taught me to play on a 1931 Gibson L-I Flattop. I still have that guitar all these years later.

Speaking of family, we understand you’ve had a rather unusual upbringing.

L: (growing fidgety) I don’t typically talk about it, but yes, Vivian DuLac is not my natural mother. Yes, I did inherit Logres Construction.

Lansing remains silent for a moment, reflective, and I decide to move on.

Tell me about your nickname: The Lady Killer.

L: (flinches at first, but then relaxes, pushing his longer bangs off his forehead) Yeah, well, I’m okay with the ladies (a sly crooked smile begins and those blue eyes sparkle), but I’ve been known to make a few mistakes, break a few hearts. Maybe one too many. (sighs).

Broken hearts, what about being a hero?

L: (sitting up straighter and continuing to fidget with the coffee cup in front of him) I wouldn’t say I’m a hero. I did what anyone would do. I have…a connection…to the little girl. I needed to get to her.

(Raising my eyebrow) A connection, how?

L: (smiling deeper) It’s a long story (laughs).

Well, tell me the story of the band. How did you all come together?

L: I met Arturo when we were teenagers; he’s two years older than me. It was a fight over a girl (he looks away for a moment). Anyway, met Perkins in the woods one summer. We just sort of clicked. He’s a natural on the drums. Met Tristan after Arturo went to college. We just gel, a band of brothers.

(I soften my tone) And speaking of brothers, how are you all holding up with the news of Arturo?

L: What news?

Well, the recent events surrounding Arturo and his…

L: There is no news. All we know is Arturo was in an accident. I’m sure you’ve seen the images. Graphic. Disturbing. But we are still hoping for the best. He’s been spotted sporadically, but we don’t have any definite leads. What we do know, is if Arturo King were dead, we would all feel it. Our connection is that strong. If one goes, we would know it.

In an attempt to change directions, I ask: How is Guinevere DeGrance?

L: Why?

I’m taken aback for a moment and then he continues.

L: I apologize. Guinevere is holding up the best she can. Obviously this has all been quite a blow to her. She’s been through a lot, but she’s a strong woman. She’ll make it through this. She has me. She has the band. We are all there for one another.

There for each other, but who is there for you, specifically? (winking)

L: (seeming to relax). Someone amazing is there for me. I didn’t see her coming, but she means everything to me. She’s changed my life, literally. It’s a new chapter for me, and I’m looking forward to where this will lead (smiles deeply).

I can feel the exciting energy for his unspoken new love interest, but I decide not to pry further.

Okay, can you comment on your world tour being cancelled?

L: We had to cancel. We won’t continue without Arturo, so we decided to wait. The fans have been understanding. We are still working on finishing the album, and looking forward to a release tentatively in August. We appreciate everyone’s support for Arturo and we are certain he feels the love they keep sending out to him.

Anything you want to say to your fans?

L: We love you. Thanks for your support. We’re sticking together, no worries. You can keep up to date with all things The Nights on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/737318906359166/

At that point, a beautiful blonde woman and a little girl dressed in a ladybug costume enter the coffee shop. Lansing’s attention shifts immediately and the little girl waves to him. He winks at her and she giggles in response. I don’t miss that his eyes wander up to the woman who waits patiently in line for coffee, not acknowledging him. The weight of the Lady Killer’s attention must be too much, because she turns toward us, and slowly smiles at Mr. Lotte. I’ve seen that look before on a few ladies of society. This one definitely has more-than-a-crush on the rock star sitting before me, but I can tell by the look on his face, he feels the same way about her.

There’s no sign of Perkins Vale or Tristan Lyons, but I can’t wait to get the nitty-gritty on the quiet member of the band, Perkins. That giant drummer has some secrets, and I can’t wait to learn them next.

Paisley Bell, Guitar Central. 2015

About The Author

LB

L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and the upcoming Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.

Facebook | Facebook Author Page | Amazon | TSU | Newsletter| Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Booktropuloussocial | Blogger Website | Instagram

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