This One Moment (24 page)

To Neil

For telling your bandmates that I was a talented bass guitarist when I was anything but.

Love you, bro.

This is one of my favorite parts when it comes to writing a novel, but it's also one of the scariest—because you don't want to forget anyone. Many thanks to my fabulous agent, Marisa Corvisiero, for her enthusiasm toward this story after I told her about it. And to my wonderful editor, Susan Grimshaw, who always leaves me smiling after I read her e-mails. To my copy editor, Sue Warga, for making sure my words sparkle. And thank you to everyone at Loveswept and Penguin Random House who helped make everything about this book possible.

A special shout-out goes to my critique partner, Christina Lee, who has been with me on every step of my journey—and it's been a long and wondrous journey so far. Her friendship and feedback are always appreciated. She also happens to be the best conference roommate ever. Also, thank you to my early readers Sybil and Brenda.

Writing could be a lonely profession if it weren't for all the writer friends I've made over the years. They have selflessly shared their encouragement and their wealth of knowledge in all areas of publishing. There are too many of you to list, but that doesn't mean I don't love you any less. I always look forward to attending conferences just so I can see you again.

And to all my readers and the bloggers who've supported me over the past few years: My books wouldn't exist if it weren't for you. I love you all. I also want to thank my Facebook reader group, The Swoon Room. Those hot male photos you all post are the best inspiration around. And a special thanks to Janett Corona, who brought me an especially yummy cupcake to the Romantic Times Booklovers Convention book signing in Dallas. Both she and that cupcake made my day.

And, finally, thank you to my family, Ralph, Anton, Stefan, and Anja. You've put up with so much just so I can make my deadlines. You've joked about my love of pictures with half-naked men and of my book boyfriends, but at the end of the day you still know that you're the most important individuals to me. Thank you for your love and support.

This One Moment

My Song for You
(coming soon)

Tell Me When

Let Me Know

Heat It Up
(coming soon)

PHOTO:
©
STINA LINDENBLATT

Born in Brighton, England,
S
TINA
L
INDENBLATT
has lived in a number of countries, including England, the United States, Finland, and Canada. This would explain her mixed-up accent. While studying at university, she learned to play the electric bass and often dreamed of one day playing in a rock band. Alas, she ended up getting a master's of science in exercise physiology instead and eventually went on to write stories about athletic heroes and rock stars.

In addition to writing fiction, she loves photography, especially the close-up variety, and currently lives in Calgary, Canada, with her husband and three kids.

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April is a promise of spring and Loveswept romance is here to warm things up.

L. P. Dover continues her edgy, emotionally gripping Second Chances series with the story of a beautiful widow who can't resist a chiseled NFL player in
Catching Summer.
The Society of Gentlemen series from K. J. Charles continues with the sizzling
A Gentleman's Position.
For a new series, ladies, meet Micah, a man who takes what he wants—until he meets the one woman he needs in Stacey Kennedy's
Bound Beneath His Pain.
An epic love affair steals the show in Stina Lindenblatt's
This One Moment.
Annie Rains continues her small-town Hero's Welcome series with a cowboy turned marine in
Welcome Home, Cowboy.
Gillian Archer is hot on the trend of MC romance, introducing her True Brothers series with
Ruthless
. And MC Sons of Odin returns with Violetta Rand's irresistible novel about a sexy-as-sin biker who tempts a good girl to go bad,
Possession
.

Off the Hook
from
USA Today
bestselling author Laura Drewry is the first in her Fishing for Trouble series featuring three unforgettable brothers—each of whom is a great catch. Then the swoon-worthy McKinney Brothers series from
New York Times
bestselling author Claudia Connor continues with J.T. in
Worth It All.
USA Today
bestselling author Alexis Morgan kicks off her new Sergeant Joe's Boys series with
Always for You: Jack,
where a foster son learns about love and life in record time. And the new Fireside series tells a story of an old love reunited in
His to Love
from new Loveswept author Stacey Lynn.
USA Today
bestselling writing duo M. J. Fields and Chelsea Camaron are back with the Caldwell brothers in
Jagger,
which is not only full of swagger and sensuality but also packs an emotional punch as the last bachelor standing fights for a woman who's worth every ounce of trouble. And yet another Aces Hockey romance from Kelly Jamieson releases this month featuring pro hockey hunk Duncan in
Icing.
There's also something naughty for you from
New York Times
bestselling author Jen McLaughlin in
Lust Is the Thorn
where a soon-to-be ordained priest has to decide who he loves more. Then prepare yourself for razor-sharp suspense from
New York Times
bestselling author Patricia Rosemoor with
His Deception.
Two words for you: secret bodyguard. And for fans of the hit TV show
Empire,
Lisa Marie Perry's
Sin for Me
kicks off the sizzling Devil's Music series.

Friend Loveswept and let the romance begin!

Until next month—Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

by Stina Lindenblatt

Available from Loveswept

Loneliness was a bitch. True, that wasn't the most convincing statement to say when surrounded by a group of screaming girls in a sports bar, eager to touch any part of your body they could get their hands on. And try telling that to a horny twentysomething guy. This place was a smorgasbord of groupies interested in a quick lay.

Not that I was complaining.

So far, I loved what I did for a living. I loved the fans, and I loved hanging out with the guys in the band, even during our last grueling tour. But that didn't stop the nagging feeling that despite the music, the fans, and the band, despite how hard we had worked and how much we had sacrificed to get this far, something was missing.

But hell if I knew what it was.

“Oh my God,” the girl in a super-tight white tank top shrieked, jumping up and down. Her huge tits bounced like overinflated beach balls. “I can't believe it's you. You're like my favorite guitarist of all time.”

I flashed her the smile that always left girls sighing. Mason, the drummer for Pushing Limits, claimed the smile guaranteed I'd get laid. I wasn't so sure about that. “Well, thanks. You just made my day.” I had already used the same tired line five times in the past fifteen minutes. But as long as the girls at the radio-station-sponsored event didn't compare notes, they'd be fine.

Flipping my lucky guitar pick between my fingers and across the back of my hand, I glanced at Nolan with his mob of fans. His girlfriend, Hailey, was talking to Kirk's sister. Neither of them paid attention to the eager fans pawing at the individual members of the band. It wasn't like the two women hadn't seen it before. Although I had to admit I was impressed at how Hailey took it all in stride. Not all girlfriends were like that.

A kiss on my cheek dragged me back to my own group of screaming fans. The girl with beach-ball tits grinned at the smartphone in her hand. Had she just taken a fucking selfie of her kissing me?

“Okay, everyone,” Rebecca, one of the radio personalities, said through the speakers. It was early afternoon and the sports bar had been rented for the event, which meant the TVs weren't on, much to Kirk's annoyance. I chuckled. His occasional glares aimed at the TVs meant one thing: he was missing out on a hockey game featuring his favorite team, the L.A. Kings.

“May the games begin,” Rebecca continued once she had everyone's attention. “And ladies, no mauling our special guests. You wouldn't want to scare them off, right?”

“Boo!” Mason's loud voice exploded through the beer-scented air. His lazy grin, bright against his light brown skin, was visible above his groupies' heads. He wasn't the only one disappointed at her suggestion. The girls crowding around him would've been more than happy to continue groping the bulky drummer—and the feeling was mutual when it came to Mas. I wouldn't have been surprised if he already had some of their phone numbers.

“Is everyone still in their assigned group?” Michael, the other radio personality, asked. His question was met with a chorus of yeses, shrieks, and hollers. “The first event is the beanbag toss. The winning team is the one with the most bags in their bucket at the end of three minutes.” He and Rebecca had us line up behind the throwing line. In total, fifty participants, with the girls easily outnumbering the guys, had won the chance to join us today.

The two radio interns herded Nolan, Mason, Kirk, Aaron, and myself to the front of our respective lines and handed us each our first beanbag. I returned my guitar pick to my back jeans pocket. And the game commenced.

Cheers and groans filled the air as each person at the throw line quickly tossed their beanbag into their team's bucket. I might not have been brilliant when it came to basketball, but I could hold my own. The beanbag landed smartly in the white bucket. I moved to the back of the line.

The next person up, a redhead in a tight black dress and stilettos, hurled her beanbag at the bucket as if the damn thing was burning her hand. She missed our bucket and almost scored a point for Aaron's team.

Before I knew it, all nine girls and the one guy in my group had finished their turns, and I was up again. And like last time, I nailed the bucket. But it wasn't enough. A quick glance at the guys' buckets warned me my team wasn't doing too hot.

A hand from behind me squeezed my ass. “My turn,” the I-want-to-fuck-you-all-night-long redhead said.

I gave her both a brief nod and the grin that was reserved for groupies—the one that said,
Any other time, I might've been interested
—and walked to the end of the line again. The empty feeling trailed alongside, and I glanced at Nolan and Hailey. Both were lost in their own little world, despite all the fans screaming and cheering around them. They smiled softly at each other in the way I was all too familiar with after being their roommate for a short time. Usually the look meant Nolan was about to become one very happy guy—as my thin apartment walls could attest to.

The ass-grabber joined me, and her gaze tore the jeans and T-shirt off my body. She leaned in, her breath against my ear. “I'd be all for you playing me like a guitar afterward.”

I barked a laugh. And here I thought guys were the real winners when it came to lame pickup lines. “Thanks, but…but I have somewhere to be after this.”

She flashed me a pout. “Maybe afterward?”

“Maybe some other time.”

She brightened, failing to see the lie for what it was, and slipped her fingers in my pocket. I had no idea if she was giving me her phone number, but she took the moment to cop a feel. And from the way she smiled at me, she liked what she had felt.

I stepped back and grabbed a beanbag from the bucket at the front of our line. But as I tossed it at the intended target, the redhead brushed her hand against my ass again, and the bag missed its mark by a foot.

The loud blast of a whistle ended the game. I didn't need to count the number of beanbags to know we'd lost. Not that I really cared.

“We won!” Mas hooted.

“Wait till they've counted them, dumbass,” Kirk said next to him. He gave the drummer a brief glance before returning his attention to Rebecca, who was counting the beanbags. A former hockey player, our bassist was as competitive as they came.

“I don't need to wait, douchebag. My group is just that awesome.” Mason unleashed his grin on them again, and I swore some of his groupies creamed in their panties, if their glazed expressions were any indication.

“Maybe so, but up against my athletic prowess,” Kirk said, “you're toast.”

Mason smirked. “Bring it on, puck boy.”

Rebecca jotted something on her clipboard, then counted the beanbags in Aaron's bucket.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Jared?” asked a girl who could best be described as jailbait. The rest of my team waited for the answer with bated breath.

I shook my head. “Not right now.”

“So you aren't dating Tiffany Grainger anymore?” the girl with giant tits asked.

“No. We're just friends.” I almost snorted at the “friends” part. I didn't think we had ever been friends. Just on-again and off-again whatevers.

“That's too bad. You guys were perfect together.”

I shrugged. “With our work schedules as they are, it was too difficult to spend time together.”

The only other guy in my group chuckled. “Must be a tough life, dating a supermodel.”

He didn't realize how right he was, even if he had meant it another way.

“And the winner of the beanbag toss is…” Michael paused for dramatic effect. “Kirk Helmson's team.”

Kirk's group broke out in cheers, the girls jumping up and down like hyped-up cheerleaders. One actually did do a cartwheel, but her technique was far from impressive.

“I demand a recount,” Mason yelled out. His groupies giggled. The rest of us laughed.

“Man up, Mas,” Kirk replied. “My team won and you know it.”

Mason folded his arms, chin raised. “You just watch. My team will destroy yours in the next game.” Mock defiance gleamed in his eyes.

“Bring it on, drummer boy.”

Welcome to what it had been like touring with them for the past year. They were always trying to outdo each other in whatever competition they had going. The rest of us had long since learned to ignore them…and maybe place the occasional side bet. Not that either of them knew that.

“Good to know nothing has changed between those two,” Nolan said to me as we waited for the next game to be set up. “I'd hate to lose our entertainment for the next tour.”

“You mean you'd hate to lose out on winning more money from me.” He and Aaron, our keyboardist, beat me hands down when it came to our little side bets.

“Damn straight.”

“So, Hailey,” I said. “You're coming with us on our promo blitz, right?” Maybe then I'd have a chance of doing better in our little betting game. She would unintentionally distract her boyfriend and he would screw up his bet. Or that was my plan, at least.

“I hope so. Depends on if I can get the time off. Plus we're expecting…a new family member.”

Holy fuck! That was the last thing I'd expected. They had only been together for a few months, but who was I to judge? If anyone should know how easy it was to get a girlfriend pregnant, it was me.

“Well, um, congratulations.” I hugged Hailey and gave Nolan a one-armed hug. Fortunately, the fans were too busy listening to the sideshow entertainment between Mason and the radio personalities to notice our conversation.

Nolan burst out laughing. “She's not pregnant. We're adopting a puppy.”

Hailey laughed. “Sorry. Couldn't resist it.”

“Not funny,” I grumbled, doing my best not to let them know how I really felt. Joking about pregnancy was never a funny matter.

Shoving away the pain and betrayal from my past, I smiled. “So, when are you getting the new addition?”

“Today,” Hailey said.

From the look on my best friend's face, you'd have thought Nolan was four years old and it was Christmas.

Rebecca announced the next game—darts—and we returned to our respective teams. I spent the next hour flirting with the fans, signing autographs, finding out what they loved about our songs and about the band. This was one of the things I loved most about what I did: interacting with the fans. The real fans. Not the groupies who were hoping to add us to their I-slept-with-a-celebrity tally. They usually couldn't tell us what they loved about our music. We were just hot bodies as far as they were concerned.

“And the grand prize,” Rebecca announced, “goes to Kirk Helmson's team.”

Cheers broke out among all the teams, including Mason's.

“Hey, bro,” Mas said with a laugh, “you finally won the Steward Cup.”

Kirk snorted. “You mean Stanley Cup.”

“Sure, whatev.”

Kirk collected the tiny metal trophy on behalf of his team, and congratulated everyone as if they really had won the most coveted prize in the NHL.

“You guys want to meet up for drinks later?” Aaron asked after we had packed up our instruments to leave. As part of the event, we had agreed to play a couple of our songs off the debut album. The president of the record label had been quite clear: under no condition were we to play anything from the upcoming album. And basically whatever he said, we did. No questions asked.

“Count me in,” I said. Kirk and Mason also agreed to meet up later at our favorite bar.

On my way home, I stopped at a grocery store and wandered up and down the aisles, grabbing whatever appealed to me and didn't require much thought. Cooking wasn't one of my favorite pastimes.

As I pushed my shopping cart down the cereal aisle, I spotted a woman I never thought I'd see again—a woman who used to be my close friend. Only I didn't remember her looking quite so hot back then, with her long copper hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. The woman who was my ex-girlfriend-from-high-school's little sister.

The woman signing with her hands…to a four-year-old boy.