Rock Chick Redemption (Rock Chick, #3)
Kristen Ashley
This book is dedicated to
Kathleen “Danae” Den Bachlet My “Annette”
I thank the goddess for bringing to me a friend…
who lets me be just who I am.
Acknowledgements
When your dream is to write books and dreams are meant to be shared with the ones you love and your best friend for over twenty years lives half a world away (literal y) but also edits your books, there is nothing better than to have the words “Kel y Brown edited” popping up al over your edited manuscript. Thanks for being with me, Kel, every word of the way.
And to my Rock Chicks and Ninja Queen Sisters, Lily-Flower and Lotus Blossom, I love you guys. Thanks for Sturgis, the time of my life. JAKE!
And to my Rock Guru, Wil … you know how I feel.
And to my new Rock Queen, latest cheerleader and my friend since forever, Stephanie Redman Smith, thanks for reading, loving it and rooting me on. I love you, Steph, but you stil can’t have Luke. He’s mine.
And to my sister, Erika “Rikki” Wynne and my brother, Gib Moutaw… we lost our anchor but our bond wil never weaken. I would not be who I am if I didn’t have you. You are so embedded in my heart, you have become my heart. I miss you every day.
And to my family, friends and readers… welcome back, thanks for coming and hang on tight, the ride is about to begin!
Rock on…
Part One
Chapter One
Love at First Sight
It’s happened to me twice, love at first sight.
The first time was Bil y Flynn. The second was Hank Nightingale.
Bil y didn’t take and he broke my heart.
Hank, wel Hank’s a heartbreaker, to be certain, but I wasn’t going to stick around long enough for him to do it to me. It wouldn’t be my choice, not sticking around, but that’s what was going to happen al the same and probably for the best. At least for Hank.
*
Bil y and Hank are night and day, dark and light, bad and good. Bil y’s the former of al those. Hank’s the latter.
See, Bil y’s a criminal, Hank’s a cop.
Bil y looks like a young Robert Redford but instead of boy next-door charm, he has a bit (okay, a lot) of James Dean’s Rebel without a Cause drifting through him.
I knew Bil y wel ; I’d been with him for seven years (the last three of which I tried to break up with him and that didn’t take either).
Hank looks like no one I’d ever seen before. To put it simply, he’s beautiful. He’s tal with thick dark hair, whisky-colored eyes and the lean, wel -muscled body of a linebacker.
Hank has a cause: Hank’s about justice.
And Hank has more cool in his pinkie finger at any given moment than Bil y would have in a lifetime.
Don’t ask me how I know this because I only knew Hank for a few days. Though, it started when I learned he liked Springsteen. Anyone who likes Springsteen, wel , enough said.
*
A little about me.
For some bizarre reason my Mom named me Roxanne Gisel e Logan and everyone cal s me Roxie. I have an older brother named Gilbert (we cal him Gil because Gilbert is a shit name) and a younger sister named Esmerelda (we cal her Mimi because Esmerelda is a shit name too).
Needless to say, I lucked out in the sibling name stakes.
Dad let Mom name us. I think he did this so he could give her a hard time for the rest of her life. Dad and Mom love each other, a lot, and show it, a lot (too much if you ask me). Growing up with your parent’s constant public displays of affection was kind of embarrassing. Regardless of this, they were always ribbing each other and arguing… but in a nice way.
*
I didn’t grow up thinking I was going to live essential y on the run (even though at first I didn’t know that) with a criminal boyfriend, no matter how cute he was. I grew up thinking I’d have a great job where I could wear designer clothes, I’d make a shitload of money and I’d have dozens of peons kowtowing to my every whim.
Before I met Bil y, I was on my way.
Don’t take that as me being screaming ambitious or anything; I partied through high school and col ege. I studied enough to make A’s and B’s (mostly B’s) but it was real y al about beer, the occasional bottle of tequila and rock ’n’ rol .
Dad said I was lucky I was a smart girl or I’d be fucked.
Mom warned if I didn’t get smarter, I’d end up fucked (though Mom didn’t use the f-word, I knew what she meant).