Welcome to For Whom The Books Toll! Today I'm hosting Gracen Miller's Rockin' the Heart Blog Tour.
Hi Gracen, thank you for stopping by today and talking about your book Rockin' the Heart.
A
Peek into Gracen Miller’s Youth
1…I
loved the story Cinderella so much I went through a spell where I
refused to answer to anything but Cinderella.
2…The
death of Bambi’s mother traumatized me. I sobbed so hard my mother
had to remove me from the theater.
3…I
grew up in the Deep South and would spend from sun-up to sundown
trampling through the woods with my guy friends. I’m a proud
G.R.I.T.S. girl and I’m fond of the words “y’all”, “ain’t”,
“gonna”, and any other word we can butcher.
4…I
used to call the husband of one of my mother’s friend “Fat Back”.
I don’t even know why because he wasn’t fat. He called me
“princess” and I called him “fat back”. Not a fair trade off,
huh? LOL
5…A
friend I grew up with, when we watched TV he’d suck his thumb and
play with my hair with his other hand. I suspect that’s why I still
like it when my husband plays with my hair…it’s soothing and
comforting to me.
6…I
took this same friend to my Junior Prom because I didn’t want to
worry with a “real” date and wanted to have “fun”.
7…I
had an ant farm and was fascinated by the way they tunneled through
the sand.
8…I
collected Unicorns as a teenager until my grandfather visited and
accidently knocked them off their shelf and broke all of them.
9…In
Elementary school, I used to gather other people at recess to join in
on imaginary play. Many of those make-believe moments centered on
cowboys and Indians. Sometimes I’d have telephone conversations
with some of them so we could plan the next day’s adventures.
10…In
high school, my best friend and I used to dress up as the characters
we wrote about. I have some of those moments memorialized in photos.
(I’ve attached a photo—I was make-believing I was Sapphire, who
was a rocker chick.)
11…I
loved fluorescent yellow and was the only person who wore it in my
High School. I also owned a pair of fishnet pantyhose and yes I wore
them.
12…My
mother and I gave some interesting names to our animals. “Four
Paws” was a cat with four white paws and was black everywhere else.
“DA” was a dog, and we named him D.A. because my mother thought
he was a “dumbass” and since I disagreed I could say it meant
“district attorney”. My mother’s theory was that a District
Attorney was smart. I was naïve and bought it. “Motormouth” was
a yellow tabby that couldn’t purr so he would make this awful
noise. Best cat we ever had!
That was some awesome stuff, Gracen, thanks so much for sharing.
BLURB:
If
music nourishes the soul…
Loved
by millions, but shunned by blood, Heath “Fang” Fangor has led
his band, Hot Wired, to the top while others have fallen by the
wayside. He devoted his life to music, and from that devotion
harvested a new family—his band mates and fans.
A
man can desire nothing else…or can he?
Living
in the shadow of her brother’s fame sucks! Sam Collins is desperate
to have what she wants—a simple and uncomplicated life. She’s no
stranger to scandals and how they work. Now that she’s
inadvertently dragged Fang into the center of her latest gossip,
could the scandal she created in her quest for freedom have gone too
far?
Amid
stardom the heart stages a new melody…
Fang
has more fame and fortune than he will ever need, but none of that
matters if he can’t have the woman of his dreams. Years have been
wasted waiting for the right moment to approach the woman his heart
desires above all others. There’s just one major problem...she’s
his best friend’s sister. To have her, he will have to risk it all.
One
that might be responsible for Rockin the Heart!
Buy Links:
Barnes & Noble
EXCERPT:
Chapter
One
Heath
was a rock star god. The tight lines fanning outward from his silver
eyes classified him as a pissed off rock star god.
“Wanna
tell me what you did this time to get the platinum treatment?” He
indicated the jail cell, while ramming his fingers through his
shaggy, jet-black hair.
Preferring
to shrink into the shadows and avoid a confrontation with him, Sam
took a deep breath and rose from the bench. She stepped away from the
metal seat to draw closer to the bars dividing them.
She’d
expected her brother, Jason—Jase—to ride to her rescue. Like
always. Her foundation. Predictable. Dependable. Rattled by her
sibling’s abandonment, she ogled the skull on Heath’s shirt,
mortification overwhelming her.
If
Heath was Jase’s replacement, then he’d been serious when he said
‘don’t call me the next time you’re arrested.’ She’d
assumed he yelled that in anger. She was surprised he’d bothered to
offer aid at all.
Gut
hollow at her brother’s desertion, she cleared the ache out of her
throat and asked, “Can’t you just bail me out and we’ll forget
this ever happened?”
Knowing
he wouldn’t go for that suggestion, Sam swallowed hard and shuffled
her feet. Disappointing Jase was one thing, but letting Heath down
was an entirely different matter. She’d crushed on the man since
her tenth birthday when he’d given her a heart-shaped jewelry box.
Didn’t matter he’d been too old for her at a mature fourteen.
That infatuation hadn’t waned with age either, but only grown
stronger. Not that he showed her a stitch of interest. To him, she
was nothing more complicated than a kid sister.
His
digits curled around one of the bars. The tattoo lettering on his
left knuckles fit his current disposition—ired.
On the other hand the letters H-O-T-W graced his knuckles. If read
together, they spelled out the name of his band: Hot Wired.
“Not
this time, Samantha.”
She
cringed. The only time he broke out her full name was when he was
upset or disappointed with her.
“You
been drinking?”
“You
know I haven’t.” Just shy of twenty-one, in her world getting
liquor wasn’t an issue. Neither was alcohol her preferred drug of
choice.
“Drugs?”
She
rolled her eyes, the question too stupid to warrant a response.
“This
type of publicity is bad news for the band.” She’d heard that one
before. None of her recklessness damaged Hot Wired’s career. Not
that she sought to hinder their mega stardom. She wasn’t that
selfish, she just struggled with controlling her impulses on
occasion.
Therapy
failed to help. Yelling spawned further rebellion.
Living
under the umbrella of the band’s fame grew tiresome. Her life
should be her own, to live however she pleased. Weary of the media
hounding her, she craved going back to a time when nobody knew her
name. A normal life like when she’d been a kid.
She’d
grown up on daydreams of the band making it to the big times. They
won the lottery of recording deals, while Sam discovered stardom came
at a high price. Along with that knowledge came the freebie of all
lessons…fantasies were often better than reality. The last time
she’d visited the mall without a trail of vipers eager to report
her purchases she’d been fifteen.
Sheesh!
Was
it too much to ask to have a date the world didn’t scrutinize? Even
the loss of her virginity made headline news. That act should’ve
come with the expectation of privacy. Thanks to the tabloids, Jase
almost burst a blood vessel over that exploitation.
Once
she’d picked her nose in public on purpose because a rag-reporter
stalked her. Scratched her butt on another occasion. Gave them
something to write. Those were the photographs and articles that gave
her incentive to laugh.
“The
only reason they’re not pressing charges is because of Jase.”
“Thanks
for the reminder.” Along with it came the reminder that her brother
sent Heath instead of coming himself.
Despite
the news-hounds, she got out of a lot of shit thanks to her brother’s
identity. This incident would be all over the rags and Internet
before morning.
‘Hot
Wired’s drummer’s sister is at it again!’ They’d
go on to paint her wild and immoral comportment.
Have
at it you fucks. Can’t hurt me any more than you already have, but
what about the band?
Distance
from Hot Wired would aid all of them. She’d get her peace of mind
back, and they’d be devoid of the rebel-rouser in their group.
She’d
mentioned changing her last name and moving back to their Southern
roots in the small Alabama town where she’d been born. Jase had
gone bat-shit crazy at the suggestion and went on and on about how
their parents would be rolling over in their grave at her abandoning
the family name.
The
name-change idea had been discarded. Swept under the rug like a dust
bunny never to be spoken of again.
Torn
between two worlds, Sam was suffocating. Living with someone she
couldn’t have in a world where she didn’t belong.
She
sank back down onto the bench and lay down on the uncomfortable
metal, staring at the ceiling. “Go away, Heath. I’m not in the
mood for a lecture.”
A
sigh came from him, followed by a long pause. She anticipated he’d
argue, but she focused on the water spot marring the tiled ceiling
and prepared herself to fight back.
The
sound of his retreating boots hitting concrete echoed in the room.
His exit surprised her, but relieved her too. Faced with his
disappointment, she vowed again
she’d terminate her criminal behavior.
She
settled the backside of her wrist against her forehead. She made that
promise to herself often and botched the good intentions each time.
After
a moment, a new set of footsteps approached the cell. Even with her
eyes closed she determined the intruder wasn’t Heath. In a room
full of guests, she could identify his gait. Heath’s solid steps
and long stride made for a unique swagger that bespoke his
self-confidence. Celebrated his rocker status. Watching him walk
compared to admiring art. Ogling his ass as he strode away…eye-gasms.
This
individual’s fast-paced walk reminded her of the peppered rounds of
gunfire. She waited for the person to speak. The clink of metal
striking metal and locks disengaging snagged her attention. She
turned her head. The thirty-something deputy swung the cell-door
open. “You’re free to go, Ms. Collins.”
Sam
rolled off the bench and grinned at the officer as she sidled past
him. She’d bragged as they booked her that they wouldn’t hold her
long and the charges wouldn’t stick.
In
the lobby, Heath waited for her with his hands shoved in his jeans
pocket. His shaggy-butchered hair shadowed his eyes, doing a good job
of hiding his expression, but the hard line of his jaw indicated he’d
married his irritation. Lectures were sure to come.
Looking
at him, no one would guess he rocked the panties off chicks
worldwide. With his long-sleeved, pull-over black shirt, sporting a
white skull, his snug well-worn jeans and scuffed boots, he appeared
as average as any hard American worker.
That’s
what I need to warm my cold bed.
Average. Not my
brother’s best friend and rock star god.
There
was nothing average about Heath Fangor—Fang to his band mates and
the world. Neither would he seduce her. Not even as a one-time gig.
The man and his fucked up principals…or maybe they were her
fucked up principals because she couldn’t say for sure if she’d
enter into a one-night-stand with him if he begged for one. She
wanted more, and a one-nighter would be difficult to live with.
“Thanks
for the bail out, Fang.”
She breezed past him with all intention of snubbing him, but he
caught her arm. He held on tight, giving her a warning glare when she
tried to jerk free.
“Don’t
be ungrateful, brat.” He towed her toward the elevator.
“Thanks
for the autograph, Fang!” She glanced back at the deputy who’d
released her from the cell. He waved a piece of paper at them,
grinning ear-to-ear.
Heath
shoved her into the lift. The moment the doors shut, he slammed his
palms down on either side of her head. Sam sucked in a breath, her
eyes frozen on his sexy-ass mouth. The bottom lip was slightly
puffier than the top, nice and pink, and wet. He’d probably licked
them, which explained the sheen. She had naughty fantasies with them
as the star of the show navigating her body. The damage she suspected
they could accomplish created a slippery situation in her panties.
A
slight tilt of his lips before he said, “Eyes on mine.”
She
refocused and locked onto his silver gaze. The accusations she saw
there struck her like a blow to the gut. Looking away would be
easier, but Heath had a way of holding her to a higher level with
just a penetrating stare. His expectations were tall, and she
despised him for having such grand aspirations for her.
“What’s
gotten into you? Base diving—”
“That
was fun. You should try it.”
“—bar
brawls, knifing chicks in Miami—”
“Hey!
I was found innocent of that allegation!”
Elevating
his eyebrows, he called her statement a lie without uttering a word.
“—and
now you’re adding grand
theft auto to your
long list of offenses.”
Gracen
is a hopeless daydreamer masquerading as a “normal” person in
southern society. When not writing, she’s a full-time
basketball/football/guitar mom for her two sons and a devoted wife to
her real-life hero-husband. She’s addicted to writing, paranormal
romance novels, movies, Alabama football and coffee…addictions are
not necessarily in order of priority. She’s convinced coffee is
nectar from the gods and blending coffee and writing together
generates the perfect creative merger. Many of her creative worlds
are spawned from coffee highs. To learn more about Gracen and her
writing or to leave her a comment, visit her at the following sites:
The Giveaway:
Signed Print copy of Rockin' the Heart
Bottlecap Rockin' the Heart Magnet
Bottlecap Rockin' the Heart Keychain
Rockin' the Heart Purse Clip
Music Book Thong
Music necklace
Music earrings
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