Stricken Rock Series: Complete Box Set Read online

  Stricken

  Boxed Set

  Books 1 – 4

  DESIRE— UNVEILED— TRUST—RESOLVE

  S.K Logsdon

  ~~~

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2013 by S.K Logsdon

  ISBN- 978-0-9903792-2-5

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Visit my Author Pages

  You can find me on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/sklogsdon

  My website: http://sklogsdon.com

  And

  Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/sklogsdon

  Acknowledgements

  I wanted to give a special shout out to authors Samantha Towle and Michelle A. Valentine. Who inspired me to write this series.

  And thank my friend Goldie who has been full of inspiration and encouragement throughout my writing endeavors.

  If it wasn’t for her “The Raunchier the better” theory I might not have written these stories as colorful as they have become.

  Thank you for starting this story and I hope that you find enjoyment in it and follow Emily through this four book series to achieve what we all want for her. A happily ever after.

  This book is a work of fiction created by the author S.K Logsdon and is not associated with any real band, lives or stories.

  Table of Contents

  DESIRE

  I - Chapter One

  I - Chapter Two

  I - Chapter Three

  I - Chapter Four

  I - Chapter Five

  I - Chapter Six

  I - Chapter Seven

  I - Chapter Eight

  I - Chapter Nine

  I - Chapter Ten

  I - Chapter Eleven

  I - Chapter Twelve

  I - Chapter Thirteen

  I - Chapter Fourteen

  I - Chapter Fifteen

  I - Chapter Sixteen

  I - Chapter Seventeen

  I - Chapter Eighteen

  I - Chapter Nineteen

  I - Chapter Twenty

  I - Chapter Twenty One

  I - Chapter Twenty Two

  I - Chapter Twenty Three

  I - Chapter Twenty Four

  I - Chapter Twenty Five

  I - Chapter Twenty Six

  UNVEILED

  II - Chapter One

  II - Chapter Two

  II - Chapter Three

  II - Chapter Four

  II - Chapter Five

  II - Chapter Six

  II - Chapter Seven

  II - Chapter Eight

  II - Chapter Nine

  II - Chapter Ten

  II - Chapter Eleven

  II - Chapter Twelve

  II - Chapter Thirteen

  II - Chapter Fourteen

  II - Chapter Fifteen

  II - Chapter Sixteen

  II - Chapter Seventeen

  II - Chapter Eighteen

  II - Chapter Nineteen

  II - Chapter Twenty

  II - Chapter Twenty One

  II - Chapter Twenty Two

  II - Chapter Twenty Three

  II - Chapter Twenty Four

  II - Chapter Twenty Five

  II - Chapter Twenty Six

  II - Chapter Twenty Seven

  II - Chapter Twenty Eight

  II - Chapter Twenty Nine

  II - Chapter Thirty

  II - Chapter Thirty One

  II - Chapter Thirty Two

  TRUST

  III - Chapter One

  III - Chapter Two

  III - Chapter Three

  III - Chapter Four

  III - Chapter Five

  III - Chapter Six

  III - Chapter Seven

  III - Chapter Eight

  III - Chapter Nine

  III - Chapter Ten

  III - Chapter Eleven

  III - Chapter Twelve

  III - Chapter Thirteen

  III - Chapter Fourteen

  III - Chapter Fifteen

  III - Chapter Sixteen

  III - Chapter Seventeen

  III - Chapter Eighteen

  III - Chapter Nineteen

  III - Chapter Twenty

  III - Chapter Twenty One

  III - Chapter Twenty Two

  RESOLVE

  IV - Chapter One

  IV - Chapter Two

  IV - Chapter Three

  IV - Chapter Four

  IV - Chapter Five

  IV - Chapter Six

  IV - Chapter Seven

  IV - Chapter Eight

  IV - Chapter Nine

  IV - Chapter Ten

  IV - Chapter Eleven

  IV - Chapter Twelve

  IV - Chapter Thirteen

  IV - Chapter Fourteen

  IV - Chapter Fifteen

  IV - Chapter Sixteen

  IV - Chapter Seventeen

  IV - Chapter Eighteen

  IV - Chapter Nineteen

  IV - Chapter Twenty

  IV - Epilogue

  Artful Attractions: Chapter 1

  Lex: Chapter 1

  DESIRE

  -Book One-

  Chapter One

  Standing in the front row of this hot as hell outdoor venue in Las Vegas I think my skin is about to melt off. July in Vegas wearing a gray tweed jacket and matching pencil skirt embroidered with big pink roses, what was I thinking? I should have probably went with less clothes but I wanted to appear half professional when I finally get the chance to introduce myself to the band. I’d finally stepped up in the world. Luck of the draw as I see it. Thanks to my very friendly, very male, best friend Stacy. He works the music biz and is a road manager to Stricken, an overnight rock phenomenon. With eight years’ total experience under his belt, he was plucked specifically for this job four years ago once the band catapulted into stardom. But now it’s been too much to handle. With his mom sick, deteriorating thanks to dementia, he was forced to place her in the best nursing home money could buy. All because he’s been so busy that he hasn’t had the ability to take care of her himself. Not that she deserves it.

  That’s where I come in. I got a call three weeks ago to the day from Stacy. We’ve been long-distance best friends for most of our lives. Growing up in the same small rinky-dink town in Indiana it was hard not to know everybody, their brothers, cousins and uncles. Our entire school K-12 consisted of less than eight hundred kids. Stacy was four years ahead of me in school but my seventh grade year and his junior, our destinies collided on the sports field. I was running the track that surrounded the football field. I was a long-distance runner for our school and was good, won a few championships locally and I even competed state-wide a few times. And he was busy being the hottest football player in the district. From an early age Stacy was used to having girls dripping off his arms. It’s not like he could help it, being six one, nearly two hundred pounds of all muscle with shaggy dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Sex is all most people could think of when looking at him. Myself included.

&
nbsp; But that fated day was when our paths finally crossed. I was running, minding my own business, my cd player attached to my hip in a special hot pink fanny pack I’d gotten for Christmas, jamming to N-sync, the best boy band ever. I was going for endurance more than speed and I was oblivious to what was going on around me. Too busy focusing on the science test I had coming up the next day on the periodic table of elements. Those are some tricky buggers, let me tell ya. I’m not exactly sure how it all happened but I was running, my new bright blue Adidas pounding into the dirt when I was pummeled from behind. I hit the ground hard, my entire body went down in a free-falling dive. And Stacy was the one who landed on top of me. Nearly all two hundred pounds of him and it felt like having my ass handed to me by a brick wall. Needless to say he was fine, not a damn scratch but I fractured my ankle and tore the shit out of my hands. There was no more track for me that year. I figured being a famous football player and all he’d just shrug it off and leave me to fend for myself. But instead Stacy felt terrible and scooped me up into his big arms and carried me to the nurses, my parents were called and I had to go to the hospital. Wore a cast around my ankle and foot for nearly a month. He sent me flowers and even visited me once I got home. Somehow, we’ve been great friends ever since. I was his platonic date to prom his senior year and once he graduated he went off to college at UCLA to study music biz and play football.

  I’ve held his hand through, not one, but two divorces. No kids resulted in either of them. Thank god because with those money hungry bitches, I am sure he’d be screwed even more than he already was. At least with the second he was smart enough to get a prenup. I’ve been through one major breakup and he was my rock through it all. Although I never dove too deep into any relationship. It’s never been my thing. I can’t get attached. I think it might be a defect in my DNA. Stacy’s agreed with me a few times on that one. He dates women like it’s an Olympic sport and I could care less. Thankfully I’ve never been into him and he’s never shown any interest in me, except maybe when he’s super drunk and about to go home alone. Alcohol plus Stacy equals boobs, pussies and usually more than one of both. From what I hear from his dates, if you’d call them that, he’s rockin’ in the sac.

  So now at the ripe old age of twenty-four my best friend has called in a favor. I’m between jobs anyhow, thanks to my old boss who decided my position as PR manager for his small publishing company was no longer employable. All because I refused to sleep with him. I guess after working there for eight months and not opening my legs to a fifty year old, overweight, married man with four kids, meant I couldn’t keep the best job I’ve landed since I graduated from NYU. Not— that I’m bitter or anything. When I told Stacy he nearly croaked and offered to come to New York where I live to personally kick his ass. Which, knowing Stacy, he’d do it. That’s just the kind of man he is. Loyal to his friends and I’m the longest one he’s ever had and the only female. Well maybe not the longest, I think he might still talk to Kyle, my old next door neighbor who played football too. But I don’t know.

  So when he asked me to come to Vegas to see Stricken play and take a job as his assistant, I couldn’t resist. He needed some of the pressure off himself and the record labeled agreed to pay me only because they can’t afford to lose Stacy. So here I am standing in the front row sweating my ass off with a mob of sweaty men and women behind me.

  Stacy wanted me to get the full effect of the show, so he forced me to take front and center. I could almost reach up and touch the stage if it weren’t for the big ass bodyguards dressed in all black standing in the way. Some punk rock band calling themselves Xtreme Sex just exited. They were the opening gig and to be honest I’ve heard a lot better. Not sure how they decide who opens for the band but I can only hope my job entitles me to help in the scoping out new bands because they were seriously under par. Maybe not for some Podunk rock show back home, but in the big leagues they sure as hell don’t belong.

  The fans roar as the roadies set up the stage for the main event. I can feel sweat dripping down the back of my neck. Thank god I wore my hair up tonight and waterproof mascara. No raccoon eyes for me. Stricken’s drummer enters first, playing around with his bright purple set. Which drives the crowd wilder and they all move forward to get a few inches closer. My body is pressed tightly up against the bars, leaving imprints on my stomach. This is so not my scene. Drinking coffee and reading a book in bed are the real highlights of my life. Not having a woman’s sweaty breasts pressed against the back of my two hundred dollar suit. I am so going to kill Stacy for this. And I will make sure it will be a slow painful death. He deserves it for putting me through this. It’s so not sanitary.

  Next on stage enters the bands two guitarists. Well, I think one’s a bass guitarist. Whatever that means. I’m not into the music biz. I love music, all kinds of it actually. And I’ve listened to all of Stricken’s albums, only because Stacy mailed them to me prerelease. I even have one album they’ve signed the cover of, thanks to Stacy. I’d never ask for that. They’re good. I mean real good. Hard rock with a touch of soft into the mix. I can see why the women love them; each member is like sex on a stick. I turn my head to watch the crowd and that’s when Johnathan enters the stage in all his Grecian god glory. Stricken’s lead singer. Sex god and womanizer extraordinaire. I know all this because Stacy tells me, not because I’m some media whore. I don’t do gossip and I sure as hell won’t buy a magazine with it. Books are the only thing I read and maybe the New York Post if I want a change of pace. Which isn’t often.

  God Johnathan is hot though. He grabs the mic like he’s making love to it and belts out the first song to kick off the night. Women all around me are screaming his name and shirts start to come off in masses. I’ve never seen so many women’s boobs in my whole life. Big, little, old, young, tattooed. Oh god I think I might be sick! I cover my mouth and take in a deep breath. This is too much.

  “How’s it goin' Las Vegas?” he yells into the mic.

  A whole lot of ‘I love you Johnathan,’ ‘Show us your cock’ and ‘Hell yeah’s’ are screamed in retort. I think I might go deaf by the end of the night. Too much flesh. God this life is so not for me. What was I thinking coming here? I do PR for publishing companies not managing and PR for rock stars. I am going to kill Stacy!

  “I want to give a little shout out to my friends tonight. You know who you are.” He says again seductively speaking into the mic. Then jumps off into the next song. I can’t tear my eyes from the stage. They are mesmerizing. The atmosphere totally sucks but the playing is out of this world. They are even better in person. I looked over to the side of the stage and there stands Stacy, his hands tucked into his ratty jean pockets, talking to some tall blonde. She is definitely his type. I think just about everyone Stacy’s dated or even just fucked has been a blonde. That’s probably why we’ve been friends for so long. I do not in any way shape or form fit into the leggy blonde model classification. I’m five two at best. Not sure where my height or lack thereof comes from because my mom’s almost six foot and my dad’s six four. Sometimes I think I’m adopted. I have red hair and when I say red I don’t mean auburn. I mean red, red. It’s wavy and long, hitting about the middle of my back dry and my butt when it’s wet. My skin is pale; I couldn’t tan even if I wanted to. Now that is something my mom and I both share and my dad used to be a redhead like me but now he’s bald and his eyebrows are gray with age.

  Finally, the show is over. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the music because I did. But needless to say the experience as a whole was, I-need-to-take-a-cold-shower-and-sanitize-myself worthy. I have a feeling I will spend the next two days showering the sweat and female crotch stench out of my hair. Yuck!

  “Hey Em!” I hear a familiar voice yell my name. I’m outside the venue after pushing through the hordes of crazy fans. I need to get to my rental car but it’s going to take hours to get out of this parking lot.

  I turn my head and I see Stacy alone, running towards me.

  �
�What are you doing out here? I thought you wanted to meet the band?” He’s out of breath. Even panting, my best friend is beautiful. Going on thirty and still looks like he’s twenty one. Lucky bastard.

  “After all of that I should fucking kill you,” I screech, smacking him hard on the arm.

  “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” A dirty little smirk washes across his sweaty face.

  “Was it that bad? Are you serious? You did this on purpose didn’t you?” I put my hand on my hip for effect.

  Laughing loudly he says “Well I know you need to loosen up a little so I thought a night in my world would help with that.”

  I roll my eyes and smack him again, harder this time.

  “Ouch Em, it can’t be that damn bad,” he adds, rubbing his reddened arm. Serves his ass right!

  “Well, when you live in my world of books and coffee and T.V. shows that don’t consist of naked women, the smell of sweat, BO and rotten crotch. This is so not sanitary,” I say rubbing my hands on my skirt, trying to cleanse the night away. But I can’t help but think about that nasty brunette behind me pressing her sweaty boobs against my back. Oh shit, I think I might actually vomit. I cover my mouth and take a deep breath again.

  “I’m sorry Em, I thought you might like the full experience.” He shrugs.

  “I forgive you. But don’t do this again without warning me. I know you’re footloose and fancy-free. But I’m just not. I may not be a prude but there’s a fine line between being a prude and having to endure what I just did. Panties hitting the stage like a damn waterfall. One even landed by my foot because somebody couldn’t aim. After meeting the band I am going to have to shower.”

  Wringing his arm around my neck to pull me into a hug, he plants a kiss on my forehead.

  “I promise. Come on, I want you to meet the men. There’s an after party at one of the hottest clubs in the city and I want you to come with.” He looks me up and down and shakes his head with obvious disgust. “But not wearing that.”