What happens after the Happily Ever After?
Once upon a time, a tour manager and a rock star fell in love on a tour bus.
Many months and miles later, Kate and Danny are trying to build a life together in between two jet-setting jobs in the music industry. But despite their bondage-friendly lifestyle, Kate is rope-shy once the bedroom door opens.
Secretly, she craves something more than professional satisfaction, even though she swore she’d never swap her backstage pass for a picket fence. But it’s going to take more than words for this Dom to help his self-reliant submissive realize she’s never been more free than when she’s tied down.
**This is a sequel to Playing the Pauses, not a standalone. However, you don’t have to read the rest of the series to understand these two.**
In my purse, a text message waits on my phone, but I don’t check it.
My assistant needs more supervision than I can afford to give him, the production manager’s blood pressure could really use me running interference between him and the neurotic pyrotechnics specialist, and I should ride the bus tonight to try to repair my working relationship with the backup dancers. I have a hundred places to be and the only one I want to inhabit is Danny’s apartment, in his beautiful silence that always stretches to make me a comfortable part of it.
It’s enough to make me wish Danny said I love you. He thinks it’s absurd to repeat a sentiment I already know is true, but in moments like these where I’m falling a little short in every area of my life, I could really use the simple comfort of those three words. I pull out my phone to check his text, even though I know it won’t say what I need it to.
Sure enough, the screen doesn’t fill with words. Instead, it’s a picture.
I squint in the dim backstage lights, turning up the brightness until I can make out a sketch in the spare, soft lines of his characteristic charcoal.
It’s of me, asleep with my hair pooled beneath my relaxed cheek. The lines of my face are graceful, more beautiful than they ever look in the mirror. The care with which he constructed my image just from memory makes me catch my breath, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.
He misses me. And this is the only way he can say it.
Michelle Hazen is a nomad with a writing problem. Years ago, she and her husband ducked out of the 9 to 5 world and moved into their truck. As a result, she wrote most of her books with solar power in odd places, including a bus in Thailand, a golf cart in a sandstorm, and a beach in Honduras. Currently, she’s addicted to The Walking Dead, hiking, and Tillamook cheese.