BWWM Dark Rock Star Romance Books | Pretty Little Monster {Nashville's Rebel Blood Rock Stars #1}
My next series will be a dark rock star romance series set in the fabulous Nashville, TN. In Book #1, rock star Sebastian Jefferson and Angie Victor meet under unexpected circumstances. For their initial hot encounter BE WARNED… many readers may find this content offensive. You will need the password TABOO to access the prologue. Click here to access the prologue.
Many readers are not huge fans of the ‘secret baby’. Why keep your child a secret? In this story, Angie has a pretty good reason for keeping her daughter away from the sin-soaked rock star Seb Jefferson. I have Chapter #1 100% FREE for you today on the blog to get you nice and ready for the story coming September 1st.
Check your undies at the door for this high-heat black woman white man rock star bad boy romance story. If you enjoy muscular alphas, dark enemies-to-lovers romance and steamy romantic stories with African American women lead characters, dive into this smokin’ new series...
Romance Novel Excerpts | Pretty Little Monster
Chapter One
@Celebz_Leaked
#CANCEL Sebastian Jefferson
Hey Gossipers,
I have some tea from y’all today. Y’all might not believe me but I have SOURCES and pictures from my exclusive sources. Sebastian Jefferson, like THE Sebastian Jefferson, SPAT on one of his fans. This shit is crazy.
These nasty ass white boys are doing too much and their dusty fans keep supporting them. We are done. Remember last year when he refused to take a picture with a fan? Ew. Ew. Ew. Who the hell streams that shitty band’s music anyway? 1 Billion views on their last video? 🤢
If y’all can get #CANCELSEBASTIAN trending tonight, that would make all the difference.
SPAM THEM! Let them know that we won’t let these racist af crusty white boys get away with this shit anymore.
— Celebz Leaked
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ANGELINE VICTOR
“Why are you showing this to me, Meg?” I snap, rolling my eyes at yet another stupid clickbait post about Seb Jefferson.
“That’s the guy, isn’t it,” Meg says, “Your baby daddy is the insane but low-key fine white guy who spits on his fans.”
“He’s not the guy,” I lie to her.
Meg has been my best friend too long not to see through my bullshit.
“Yes, it is. It’s Callie’s...”
“Stop it, Meg. We aren’t doing this,” I mutter, “Yes. Sebastian Jefferson is the guy. Their band blew up. It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Meg hisses, “It matters. He’s rich and you have his kid. You secured the bag. I think you should sue him.”
Meg’s a divorce lawyer now, and she thinks I should sue everyone. Don’t like the music? Sue the radio station. Don’t like the coffee? Sue Starbucks. She thinks in lawsuits. She wanted to sue a dating app for setting her up with too many losers. I talked her out of it… Barely.
Meg Nigel’s long faux-locs hang away from her face with a yellow head-wrap that looks incredible against her brown skin. When I was younger, I used to want to be as light as Meg, who is still pretty dark. But she’s not as dark as me.
She’s still folding her arms and waiting for a response to her lawsuit suggestion that I am definitely not going to follow.
“I’m not suing him because I don’t want him in Calypso’s life,” I snap, “I don’t care if he’s rich and famous. That was the worst night of my life. I’m not going back there.”
“You said the sex wasn’t bad.”
“Sure,” I snap. “The sex part was fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a monster. I was a complete idiot back then. Yannick sold me to him for a night. I don’t want my daughter knowing that her father is a —
Calypso runs from the swings towards us.
“Mom! Mom, I found a bug!”
She’s holding a large green insect with long antennae and I’m trying not to freak out as she turns around and runs toward another kid.
“Callie, no! Put it back! Callie! Don’t put it in his shirt...”
Shit. I race for her and pull her away from the little boy she is about to torment with her weird playground bug. I scoop my daughter up and put her on my hips. She’s getting big. Five years old is big. She has her own little personality that’s so sassy and cute. Until it isn’t.
Meg sticks her hands in her pockets and joins us.
“Next time, I’ll hold your mom back so you can torture boys with bugs,” Meg whispers to her. Callie laughs and wraps her arms around my neck.
“Mommy, can I have ice-cream.”
“No, you can’t. We need to get you home so you can get plenty of rest before your lesson tomorrow.”
“What-ever, lady.”
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Bye, Felicia.”
“Callie?”
“I mean... yes, mommy.”
I wonder if she gets that sassy attitude from me. Or from him. Sebastian Jefferson. He doesn’t even know that he has a daughter. I don’t want him to know. He gave me $50 for birth control that night. I pocketed the cash to hitchhike from Los Angeles.
I had enough of the so-called glitz and glamor after my encounter with Seb. Los Angeles was a place that used women up and spat them back out. I was just lucky that my parents forgave me for running away at sixteen. Yannick was thirty-three when he convinced me what we had was love.
I’m not that stupid kid anymore. I don’t believe in love.
I slept on Meg’s floor for three months before I found a job. Three years of working nights and I started my bar. At least you don’t get sexually harassed by your 55-year-old manager when you own your own place.
Back then, when I slept on Meg’s floor, I didn’t even think about my missing periods. I was too busy trying to get a roof over my head and stop Yannick from tracking me down. Six months of stalking me while I was pregnant. Meg went out and bought a gun. I’m more California that way and I couldn’t sleep as long as she had it in the house.
At least she was trying to protect me. It worked, didn’t it? Here I am with both of them and Meg’s talking to Callie about bugs.
When Calypso finally came, my family was furious. I wouldn’t tell them who her father was. I couldn’t. I signed an NDA.
But... I was human, too. All humans struggle to keep secrets. We either have to tell someone or let the secret hold us hostage until it turns into something else. A heart attack. Cancer. Secrets kill eventually.
And Meg was my lawyer, so I could talk to her about the stupid NDA. Now that she’s showing me stupid blog posts about him, I regret ever telling her about Sebastian Jefferson. A part of her probably thought I was lying and wanted to use the news story to get me to confess that I got knocked up by a bum or something. The only thing she knows for sure is that Calypso’s daddy is white. I rarely go for white guys, but I didn’t exactly “go for” Seb. He took me.
Callie’s skin is the gentlest shade of brown, lighter than a walnut.
“I’ll text you if I have plans, Angie,” Meg says, drawing me back into the moment.
“Great. My mom said she could take Callie tonight if you think of something we can do.”
Callie sits up straight. “Yay! I want to go to grandma’s house. Her food doesn’t taste yucky.”
I scowl at Callie, who gives me a cheeky grin, and then kisses my cheek. My mom’s Southern cooking might be delicious, but I think vegetables don’t need sugar in them. Callie and my mom disagree.
Callie offers a sympathetic comfort, “It’s okay, mommy. I know you try your best.”
Kids can be so harsh. Damn. I wave goodbye to Meg and take Callie to the car. I’m a long way from the girl who had to sleep on Meg’s floor. But not far enough. The bar is hard work, and it’s even harder doing it all alone as a single mom. At least in Tennessee I have family. I didn’t have anyone in Los Angeles.
Calypso’s teacher wants to enroll her in a performing arts school and the bar isn’t doing well enough for me to pay her tuition.
Callie’s really talented. I wonder who she gets it from.
And her tuition? $7,000 a term, three terms a year. $21,000 is way than half my income after tax and bills. I have some money put away, but not enough to commit to a lifetime of tuition like that. If business at the bar picks up, maybe.
For Calypso, I’d do anything. I’d never buy new clothes again if it meant allowing her to pursue her dream. To have a dream.
My baby girl saved my life. But could I really sue Seb Jefferson for child support? I’d never given him a chance to meet her. He still doesn’t know about her.
He’s a creep, anyway. What kind of guy buys a girl for a night? A rock star. An asshole. A sin-soaked playboy without a care in the world. The thought of him makes me sick to my stomach. Unlike everyone else in America, I don’t care about his sparkling blue eyes or the fact that Rolling Stone called him “the next Cash”. Yeah, except Johnny Cash had a soul and Seb Jefferson’s a monster.
I haven’t needed Sebastian so far. I don’t need him now. Once Calypso and I get home, I lead her through the door and straight to the bath. I need to search her pocket for bugs every time she plays outside. The worst week of my life was when I took her to a boy’s birthday party and he had tarantulas the kids could pet. Callie begged for a tarantula for two weeks, much to my horror.
Nashville has more bugs than anywhere else, I swear. And Callie has a way of finding them. Spiders. Cicadas. Horrific centipedes. Yuck.
During bath time, I comb through Calypso’s long curls and twist her hair into two cornrows down the side of her head. Her hair is longer than mine has ever been. It’s so thick and curly. I should take better care of my hair, but I just wear wigs or braids now and spend my time worrying about Callie.
She always asks for complicated hairstyles that get attention from the kids at school. I’m a wallflower by nature, so this extroverted daughter of mine must be like this because of Seb.
“Okay mocha cookie,” I tell her. My heart warms every time I look at Callie’s smile. And after bath time, she smells amazing. I just want to cuddle her up. Now that she’s getting more independent, I know I don’t have too much longer to appreciate her like this — all small and innocent.
“What do you want for dinner? Chicken and salad orrrr do you want to see what grandma’s cooking?”
“I like grandma’s food,” Callie says confidently.
“Cool. Let’s get you ready then. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you tonight.”
Callie nods, and then she sticks two of her fingers in her mouth, glancing at me nervously.
“Mommy. Are you a lesbian?” Callie asks.
“What?”
Where the hell did she learn that word? She’s only five…
“At school Ronnie said if I don’t have a daddy it’s because I have two mommies and that mommies can be lesbians now.”
“Listen, we’ll talk about that another time, okay? Tell Ronnie that gossiping isn’t nice.”
“Oh-Kay.”
I call my mom, who is more than happy to have us over. Our place in Nashville’s only a few blocks from hers. Seb Jefferson’s from Tennessee too, but he’s a country boy. You can hear it in his voice. You can’t fake that accent. He probably couldn’t get rid of it if he tried. When I close my eyes, I can still hear his voice.
Thankfully, I’ll never have to see him again. He’s too big to come back to our city, too caught up in the Los Angeles grind.
He’s probably paying for sex with someone’s girlfriend right now. Ugh. Why did Meg have to make me think of him?
My mom takes Callie into her arms as I enter her front door, careful to make an awed gasp at the hydrangea bushes out front as I walk up the front steps.
“Hey mom.”
“Hey,” she answers, clutching Callie tightly in her arms, “Meg called.”
“She did?”
“She said she was coming over to whisk you out of here so make sure I’m ready to shoo you out.”
“Whisk me out where? I just want to watch Desperate Housewives re-runs and chill. I need some white people mess to forget my problems today.”
My mom raises an eyebrow and blurts out, “Meg says you need a man.”
“She told you that?”
My cheeks gush warmth and I nervously fuss with my wig’s middle part. Calypso pretends not to listen, but she’s a kid. They’re little sponges and my little sponge listens to everything.
“Grandma, can I show you my performance? I have a lesson tomorrow.”
“Sure, mocha cookie. Let’s go.”
Mom leads Calypso to her living room. Since finalizing the divorce from dad, she’s done a lot of work on the place. It’s nice. Callie walks to the center of the room without a hint of shyness. That must be him, mustn’t it?
I was so shy I barely spoke to anyone when I was a kid. Sebastian Jefferson is... her dad. He’s performed on stages for millions of people. He must be fearless. Brave. Confident. Like Calypso.
The similarities make me uneasy. Callie clears her throat and taps her foot before giving her polished introduction.
“My song for the audition is called O Little Town of Bethlehem.”
I haven’t said yes to performing arts school yet, but Callie’s voice teacher has been preparing her for the audition, anyway. Mom’s helping me cover that expense, but I know it’s a lot for her. Since the divorce, she’s had to pinch her pennies while watching dad spend all his money on women fifteen years younger than her. I try not to get in the middle of their mess, but I know she loves watching Callie grow.
Callie clears her throat and does her whole bit. She sounds so good. I can’t believe she’s only five. I can’t believe she’s already five. I can remember the night with Sebastian like it was yesterday. I’ll never forget it. Not even my mom knows about him. She doesn’t care who Callie’s dad is anymore, now that she has a grandkid to spoil and trash talk my cooking with.
Mom enjoys reminding me that decent Southern men like a woman who can cook. She cooked for my dad every day for 35 years and he still cheated on her with our neighbor while she had breast cancer. But I keep that thought to myself.
We sit down for dinner after Callie receives all the praise she can handle. Callie finishes eating quickly and hurries off to play with the little ukulele I bought her for her fifth birthday. She seems to have figured out some chords, but she doesn’t have the hang of it yet. That doesn’t stop her from making up little songs.
“Callie asked if I was a lesbian today,” I whisper to my mom so Callie can’t hear me over the music.
“Are you?”
“Mom! No. Callie has a dad.”
“You could have fooled me. I don’t know what white boy you let knock you up or why he abandoned his daughter, but he’s scum. Lower than scum.”
Sebastian was scummy, but not for the reasons my mom thought. If she knew Callie’s dad was one of Nashville’s greatest rock stars, she’d probably say exactly what Meg said. Sue him.
“Yeah. You’re right,” I mumble, hoping she doesn’t press me about him.
Meg arrives half an hour later. She’s close with my mom and doesn’t even bother knocking before she rushes “Aunty Daveena” (my mom). Meg’s outfit is crazy even for a night out. High go-go boots. Hot pants. A tiny little top.
“Meg, what the hell are you wearing?!”
“We’re going to a concert, girl. I’m going to twerk on a white boy and secure the bag. Let’s go!”
“I’m dressed like... a soccer mom.”
“So? You look hot!”
“I’m not going to a concert dressed like this.”
“I have a top you could wear!” my mom calls. I flash her a stern glare and she winks at Megan before running upstairs to get the top and shoving me into the powder room to change. I’m wearing normal jeans and Adidas sneakers. The top is a cute pink halter that I can’t imagine my mom wearing to anything.
Once I exit the powder room, Meg grabs me with an unyielding grasp.
“Goodbye, Aunty Daveena!” Meg calls into the house.
Meg never dresses like a lawyer when she’s not at work, but I don’t think her hot pants and go-go boots will attract the type of successful guy she needs. I keep that part to myself. I’m mostly trying to convince her to slip out of the hot pants and underneath a weighted blanket so we can watch Diary of a Mad Black Woman for the seven hundredth time.
I don’t think I can come up with a plan fast enough.
“Bye mommy!” Callie calls, barely looking up from her ukelele.
Meg shoves me into her car like I’m a captive.
“Where are we going?”
“A concert. I told you.”
“I don’t have tickets anywhere. It better not be country…”
“Angie? Shut the hell up,” Meg says. “Get excited. It’s a pop-up show, and you’re going to love it.”
I don’t know what my crazy ass best friend has planned, but I don’t think I can escape. I’m stuck here with her.
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