BWWM Dark Rock Star Romance Books | Seducing The Sadist {Nashville's Rebel Blood Rock Stars #3}

I know you have all been eagerly awaiting a FREE chapter sample from Book #3. After where I left you in Book #2, Teasing The Tyrant, many readers are beyond anxious to know what happens next.

Will there be answers, or was this just another CRUEL author cliffhanger?

I suppose you’ll have to read the book to find out. Until you get around to that, check out the FREE chapter below. I’m sure you’ll love Earl/LaShawn’s age gap romance especially because of their complicated past together…

Warning… like with the other books in this series, this is a DARK romance. Some readers may consider the contents of this novel sensitive. If you think you can handle it, click here to secure your copy of the book.


Romance Novel Excerpts | Seducing The Sadist

The PROLOGUE

A few months earlier

EARL WAYNE JR.

“You called me up here. After telling me you never want to see me again and now you don’t want to tell me?”

I dress down to go to the prison. White t-shirt. Jeans. Anything that doesn’t say member of Rebel Blood.

The fellas in here probably listen to Rebel Blood. Either that or their girlfriends do. I don’t want to draw that kind of attention to myself. I pull my hood up and my ball cap down as I lean forward. 

“You can’t tell LaShawn I spoke to you,” Devonte says in his calmest voice. 

“I don’t talk to LaShawn,” I tell him, shifting uncomfortably as I admit it. He doesn’t know what’s gone down between us since he went to prison, and I prefer to keep it that way.

He’s been in there for years. He doesn’t know how much everything’s changed. Letters and visits don’t do it justice. Devonte has missed too much.

And his little sister LaShawn doesn’t talk to me. She grew up with one of the most famous men in America and she doesn’t care. Yup, LaShawn isn’t your typical teenage girl… 

She certainly isn’t a fan of Rebel Blood. 

Devonte gives me a suspicious look. “You don’t talk to her?”

This shouldn’t surprise him. It’s not like we’ve ever been close. She was fifteen years younger than both me and my best friend, who looks like he hasn’t been eating.

He tells me the prison food has maggots in it sometimes and he’s lost so much weight that I believe him.

Even if LaShawn’s all grown up now, I’m still 6’7”, the only man who can make Seb Jefferson feel like a shrimp. 

“She’s your kid sister, and she’s terrified of me.”

“She’s a huge fan of your music.”

LaShawn likes all music. She wanted to be a singer, but something happened when she was in high school and she stopped caring. Stopped singing. I bet she still listens to the band, not like anyone gives a damn about the drummer. I play guitar too, but not as well as Seb. Drums are my shit. Loud. Crazy. Just like me.

I sing a couple of the songs but I prefer country to rock. When I go solo, I’ll only do country albums. But we’re a long way away from solo album territory. One more album sounds easy, but it’s going to take a hell of a lot.

It’s been a long time since we’ve written any music… 

My contribution sits in a messy pile in my home studio in Nashville. No new songs come to me. But I’m not here to make conversation with my best friend about his younger sister or to bitch about my problems songwriting. 

“What do you want, Devonte?”

“You owe me. How could you not be talking to her? With everything going on…”

“What’s going on?”

Devonte gives me one of his irritated little side-eyes, the whites of his eyes taking up most of the space on his bald head. He’s giving me one of those I’m tired of you, white boy looks that he thinks I don’t know about. 

“LaShawn wouldn’t want me to tell you about what happened, but… I’m worried for her. It’s all coming back to her again and… there are developments.”

Devonte normally gets to the point, so I know this is serious. I wish they’d let me drink in here. A woman visiting her husband gives me a strange look and I think she recognizes me, which makes me uneasy.

I hunch forward like I could hide my body if I tried and murmur to Devonte with a guard’s eyes glued to us. 

“Why? What’s going on? Is she finally breaking hearts up at Vanderbilt? Do I need to kick somebody’s ass?” I say, hoping it’s something light and breezy, hoping that after my family, LaShawn found some happiness. 

Devonte shakes his head, scowling. 

“No. Not that. Something happened a long time ago and… whoever hurt LaShawn is back. She’s scared. I tried to tell her to get a gun, but she’s still pissed at me. I don’t know what’s going on with her and it’s killing me in here, man. I’m running down the clock. I have less than a year but until then, I can’t do shit.”

Devonte sounds worried. “She’s my kid sister. I don’t want anything to happen to her.” 

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

Devonte runs his hands over his smooth, bald head. He’d been growing his hair out, but after the lice outbreak, he’s been bald ever since. 

“Go to her,” Devonte insists, sounding agitated. “She finishes her first year at Vanderbilt in May. On the day she leaves, get her and take her somewhere safe.”

“I’m not leaving Nashville until Seb’s wedding. I’ll have to keep her somewhere safe in the city.”

Devonte snickers.

“Really? Did he even ask you to be the best man?”

“Shut up. I’m saving that for your wedding.”

Devonte laughs, but it’s a sad laugh. He ought to be married already, but his girl left when he went to the state pen. He writes letters to some chick on the outside. I think her name is Tiffany or Brittany, or something like that, but who knows what will happen when he gets out. 

I visit my childhood best friend every week and put money in his commissary. Not too much, because it’s already a hassle to keep my identity secret when I visit. I don’t want to make things worse than they’ve already been the past six years.

“She’s scared, Earl,” he says. “I mean it. So I need you to go out there and handle shit for me.” 

“LaShawn? Scared? What the hell could scare LaShawn?”

“She’s more sensitive than you think,” Devonte snaps protectively. “And nobody in this world looks after black women. She’s my sister. I need you to just… get her off that campus and get her safe. I’ll be out of here at the end of the summer and I’ll take her off your hands.” 

“Take her off my hands? Are you asking me to kidnap her?”

“Yes.”

“Devonte… It’s LaShawn. Can’t I just… talk to her?”

“She won’t want to spend the summer with you.”

“Why not? I practically watched her grow up.”

“Exactly. And you’re famous. She won’t want you involved with her problems. But that doesn’t matter. She’s my sister and she’s in trouble.”

My stomach twists into a firm knot. LaShawn in trouble? She’s the furthest thing from trouble. Devonte’s kid sister always has been. 

“Fine. I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you.”

Devonte sighs and raises his hands, exposing the scar on his bicep. I try not to wince. He always made fun of me for being soft when we were kids. Maybe I ain’t soft anymore, but I’ll never get used to seeing the wounds Devonte has picked up in prison.

“She’s hurting Earl. Be careful with her. I just need to make sure that nothing bad happens to her.”

“Fine. I can handle that.”

“Are you okay?” Devonte asks.

“How the hell can you ask about me?”

“Because. I have six months left. I’m bored. I need something to hold on to.”

“I’m fine. Working on the last album and then… that’s it. I guess we’re done.”

“No special lady in your life?”

“Lots of ladies, none of them special.”

“Damn, man. I respect that. You can’t let these gold digging bitches hold you back.”

“Exactly,” I say to Devonte, reminding myself that I’m the one who has changed over the years, not him. 

“Keep them in line. And keep LaShawn in line. She needs somebody looking after her. And she needs someone to keep guys away.”

“Keep guys away?” 

“She’s been through a lot, Earl. I don’t need any men around my little sister screwing with her head. She needs to finish Vanderbilt. She’s on an academic scholarship. I just need you to keep her out of trouble.”

“Fine. I don’t even know how to get in touch with her.”

“She lives in student housing. You can find the place and knock on her door. Get her out of there, whatever you have to do.” 

“Fine. I can handle that.” 

“No. You don’t understand. LaShawn isn’t the little girl running behind my mama’s skirts. She’s bad as hell. Don’t be afraid to get rough with her, but… not too rough. Hurt her and when I get out of here, I’ll kill you.”

“Mind telling me what’s going on?”

“No. Just do it. I’ll owe you when I get out.” 

“Right. A good beat for my rap album.”

Devonte laughs. “These people will shit themselves if you put out a rap album.”

“Why? Don’t think I can rap?”

Devonte looks like he wants to strangle me when I start beat boxing. 

“No, white boy. I do not. And don’t let anybody in here catch you rapping or it’s my ass that’ll have to pay.”

“Yeah. I get it. We don’t have much time so… I’ll head out. I’ll find her and whatever’s happening, I’ll sort out.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re my brother. I mean that.”

“Yeah, white boy. I know.” 

We don’t get much more sentimental than that. I leave the pen incognito — no flashy outfits for once, just a white t-shirt, hoodie, a leather jacket, my hair tossed up in a dreadful man bun that my dad would hate. I don’t want to make more trouble for Devonte. My past isn’t a secret, it’s just boring, so nobody cares. 

I’m a rich boy on both sides, as white as clouds over North Carolina and easygoing as they come. My parents never had the time of day for me, so I ended up spending all my time with the maid. 

“The maid” as society calls the woman who was more of a mother to me than mine ever was has a name. Eloise Plummer. She immigrated from a small island in the Caribbean with her children — Devonte, who was exactly my age, and LaShawn. The baby. Devonte moved to America at fifteen, when LaShawn was only one-year-old. She doesn’t remember immigrating, but he does.

She doesn’t remember her first days in America either. But I do. We were all raised together, and we always looked after each other. Always. LaShawn hasn’t spoken to me since she was fourteen. I was already starting with the band back then and I thought she’d be crazy about the whole teen icon thing, but she didn’t appear to give a damn. Too bad. It would have been nice to show her how far I’d come since our days playing to together with the horses or the goats.

I don’t know why our friendship fell apart. Maybe it’s just because I’m a guy and that makes things complicated. I don’t know. But now her brother wants me to step in and he says LaShawn’s in trouble. If she’s in trouble, I owe her. 

She was like a sister to me growing up.

If she’s in trouble, I have to do something. 

* * *

Click here to continue reading. Are you new to the series? If you are, you might prefer to start from the beginning with Pretty Little Monster. That way, Book #3 will make more sense. Click here to learn more about the complete series.

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BWWM Dark Rock Star Romance Books | Teasing The Tyrant {Nashville's Rebel Blood Rock Stars #2}