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Authors: Hilaria Alexander

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Not About Love (This Love Book 2)

BOOK: Not About Love (This Love Book 2)
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Not About Love

Copyright © 2016 Hilaria Alexander

 

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 the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

 

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

 

Published: Hilaria Alexander 2016

[email protected]

 

Editing: Editing by C. Marie

Proofreading: Author Services by Julie Deaton

Cover Design: Samantha Leigh Design

Photo: Dollar Photo Club

Formatting: Champagne Formats

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

 

Acknowledgements

Playlist

About the Author

Also Available by Hilaria Alexander

 

December 2014

 

I HAD NEVER BEEN ON
a tour bus before.

No, I wasn’t turning into a groupie—I was too old for that. Plus, I wasn’t really on the tour bus of my musical idol.

I was on my best friend’s bus.

That’s right, my best friend. The same young, impressionable girl I had found roaming the streets of Amsterdam more than two years ago. Well, roaming wasn’t really accurate. She had actually been minutes away from being attacked by a random weirdo.

I had stopped him just in time, took care of her, and set her up with some of the best people I knew. As soon as I had seen her, I’d thought of the mess I had been when I was about her age—although I’d had entirely different reasons.

In the last eighteen months or so, the wide-eyed Ella Fitzpatrick had turned her life around. I had to admit it, I was kind of amazed at how much she had accomplished in such little time.

It was as if she had woken up one day with a crystal-clear picture of what she wanted in life. She had stopped resenting her past and started writing music. These days, she didn’t second-guess herself.

Sure, maybe a handsome musician might have had something to do with it.

Or a lot.

Well, Ella had done the hard work on her own, but who knew when she would have figured out what she wanted to do with her life if Lou Rivers hadn’t shown up. The girl had been stuck, and he had sort of woken her up from a self-imposed musical coma. She had run away from her problems back home, but had no clue what she was doing with her life.

Tonight, Ella had played a show in one of the many little music venues in Nashville.

I had to hand it to her, the show was pretty crowded. She was doing really well, and she 
looked 
happy.

The Nashville crowd went wild when their hometown boy, Lou Rivers, came out to play a song with Ella. Even his brother was there, and he seemed to be just as popular. He wasn’t a musician, but it didn’t take a genius to understand why the ladies loved him. I had seen how women looked at Jackson Boyd Rivers.

He was just
impossible
to ignore. God, was he ever the specimen.

I glanced his way. He was sitting right next to me, and I felt like I might explode from trying to suppress my attraction to him.

He was tall with broad shoulders and biceps that looked too good and enticing to be real. Even his forearms were fucking sexy—and his hands. I remembered them well. I missed them. As one of them ruffled up his hair, I wished I could do it instead of them. He was staring at the floor, and I couldn’t stop looking at him. I instinctively licked my lips as my eyes fell on his handsome face; even his profile was beautiful—straight nose, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw covered by a luscious, thick, brown beard. I knew how it felt because I had touched it.

I had felt his beard when I’d kissed him. I had felt it when his mouth had been on me.

Boyd Rivers and I were what you’d call
acquainted
.

Yes, we had slept together. Yes, he had been inside me.

A few times, actually.

And it had been
magnificent
.

Every. Single. Fucking. Time.

That was why I didn’t even want to think about that perfect ass of his or any other of his masculine, arousing features. Sometimes, I wished I could forget all about him, because every guy since him had been a lousy consolation prize.

I needed an
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
-type clinic to forget about sex with Boyd Rivers.

I should have stopped staring at him, but he was right next to me and I didn’t know where else to look. No one really knew what had happened between us or how many times it had happened. All they knew and saw was that we made out, nothing more. We were not a thing, and I needed to keep my eyes and my hands to myself, at least in public.

His eyes met mine, and he gave me one of those deep, dark looks I had seen before. I swallowed hard. He needed to stop that shit right now. I looked away, but I still felt his gaze fixed on me.

Ella had asked a lot of questions about what had gone down with him in the past, specifically when he’d visited Amsterdam last summer, but I’d only fessed up to what she saw. I had told her we just kissed, and she had seemed to believe me. She had been preoccupied at the time with Lou and her blossoming career, and we had never talked about it again.

As I looked up, I caught her staring at us, and by the way she was studying Boyd and me, I knew she was probably going to torment me with questions again. On top of that, we hadn’t completely behaved tonight. There had been quite a bit of dirty dancing on the dance floor.

Yes, I could definitely sense an “Ella interrogation” coming my way. I just had to get my game face on and make her believe what
I
wanted her to believe. I could be pretty convincing when I had to. I was an attorney, after all; lying came with the territory.

You’re indifferent to him. Completely indifferent. You have to believe it, and others will believe it, too. This man has no power over you.

But, fuck me, he did. He had the fucking power, whether I liked to admit it or not. I couldn’t even glance at him without getting all worked up.

His warm brown eyes met mine again, and I got lost in them.

Fuck.

Why did Jackson Boyd Rivers stir me up so bad?

I looked away. I stared at the lovers in front of me, who were now whispering sweet nothings to each other.

“I’m telling you, they are not here for me, Lou,” Ella said, pointing outside the bus.

“How do you know? It was your show,” he replied, his voice playful.

“Because it’s two
girls
. I don’t think they’d be standing out there in the cold just for me. I think they know you’re here, and they are just waiting for you. Go out there. Go talk to them. I would hate to wait outside the bus to get the chance to talk to one of my favorite musicians and get snubbed.” She caressed his face and brushed off a strand of his hair. When those two were together, it was as if the world around them faded away. In fact, Lou leaned in and started kissing Ella right then—and it wasn’t just a peck. It was the kind of kiss that led to something else. I didn’t want to stare, but I didn’t know where else to look.

Certainly not to my right. If I looked at Boyd at that moment, I might have jumped him.

Luckily, Boyd cleared his throat, and the two lovers stopped kissing.

“Go out there,” she said, her voice low. “Why don’t you take Boyd with you? I’m sure they won’t mind. If they want to talk to me, I’ll come out and say hello.”

Lou let out a sigh and got up. “Come out there with me, Boyd,” he said as he put on a jacket.

“Are these chicks cute?” Boyd asked without missing a beat, peeking through the dark bus windows.

“Does it matter?” Lou asked him.

BOOK: Not About Love (This Love Book 2)
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