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Million Miles Away
Molded by tragedy and pushed into emotional independence from a young age, Jasmine Ashcroft thinks she has this whole adulthood thing all figured out. College? Bring it on. Career planning? No problem. Dating? Sure! Well…maybe. After she gets the rest of her life dialed in.
But an unexpected meeting with the musician who created the soundtrack to her life puts those beliefs to the test. Can Jasmine find a safe–and sane–place in his high-stakes, jet-setting world without nuking her future, her family ties, or her heart?
to the Night
It’s been three years since Jasmine Ashcroft got her innocent heart skewered by her teenage crush, singer Jonathan Fox. Since then, she’s had plenty of time to grow up. To get over him. To move on. Or so she thinks…
Jonathan Fox has been burned by love. Again. Now he’s ready to jumpstart his career and become the most Eligible Rock Star in Town. Which town? All of them. While he tours the world, he’ll also play the field. Or so he thinks…
Jasmine and Jonathan’s paths are about to cross in an unlikely place. For once, the timing is right: Jasmine wants someone to rock her lonely nights. Jonathan wants someone who can keep up with his wild life. But when regret and unrequited desires collide, the resulting firestorm of emotion might be too much for them to handle. Or so they think…
About the Author:
Elizabeth Corva is a headbanger cleverly disguised as an ordinary office drone. Before she fell down the rabbit hole into the corporate world, she held various jobs in the music industry. Most of them were gruntwork and none of them paid worth a hoot, but she got a treasure trove of good band stories out of it. She’ll tell you some of the juicier ones if you ply her with the right beverages.
The Angel Interceptor series was conceived as the sun was setting on Hair Metal, born during the early days of fictionpress, and came of age in 2013 when the author finally worked up the nerve to try self-publishing. All of Elizabeth’s works are dedicated to the men who play Metal and the women who love them, even though they should know better. She pinkie swears to stay far away from insta-love, cheating, and nausea-inducing baby drama.
AUTHOR CONTACT INFO
A MILLION MILES AWAY
Like Silver, Jonathan was also clad in jeans with damp hair falling loose over his just-scrubbed chest. Even taller than he looked in photographs, his narrow-waisted, wide-shouldered frame seemed to fill the door frame. “Hiya. Didn’t realize I had an audience out here,” he told her. His expression wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t exactly one of pure delight either. Jasmine realized that he was giving her a chance to explain her presence.
“H-hi. I’m here with my…friend,” she told him. “She’s with Silver. Back there,” she added, pointing toward the closed door on the other side of the room.
“They left you on your own while they tryst? Very poor!”
Even though the singer spoke with a little laugh, Jasmine still felt a stab of anxiety. “I can wait for them outside if you want me to,” she offered, placing her hands behind her back like an errant schoolgirl called to the headmaster’s office.
“How could I kick out a fellow Waterboys fan?” The frontman walked over and held out his hand. “Jonathan Fox.”
Oh yeah, I know. “Jasmine Ashbrook,” she replied, trying to stop the trembling in her extremities as he enclosed her hand in a firm grasp. She greedily inhaled the smell of his shampoo and the hint of another warm fragrance, like a cross between cinnamon and ozone. Was it aftershave? Soap? Or just him?
Jonathan gave a disbelieving laugh. “You’re not having me on, right? Your name’s really Jasmine?”
“No joke, that’s my name.” She thought about producing her driver’s license as evidence, but decided against it because the picture sucked. “Smile!” the DMV employee behind the camera had growled so fiercely that Jasmine was terrified into doing the opposite.
After he retrieved a green-bottled beer from the cooler, Jonathan leaned against the makeup counter. His expression was still neutral, but his grey eyes were starting to warm. “Go on, take your kettle off the heat,” he offered with a nod at the plush armchair.
Jasmine sat down and leaned back, trying to affect a nonchalant attitude. “Thanks-whoa!” She nearly dropped her water as the backrest tilted toward the wall behind her while the lower part of the chair slid forward until she was almost flat on her back.
Jonathan laughed, but in a sympathetic way. “Don’t feel bad. I didn’t realize that was a stealth recliner when I first sat on it either. But unlike you, I spilled my drink.”
Embarrassing though the incident was, Jasmine realized that it had turned out to be the perfect icebreaker. With most of her anxiety gone, she gave Jonathan a tentative smile as she sat up. It was hard not to stare at him. His lightly muscled torso was tantalizingly smooth except for a narrow line of golden-brown hair that trailed down from his navel to disappear beneath the waist of his low-riding jeans. She ever-so-briefly let her gaze drop a couple of inches lower before catching herself. Whoa, Nelly. Stick to the view above the shoulders.
GIVE IN TO THE NIGHT
All she had left to do was put on makeup and she would be ready for her not-a-date. Back in the bathroom, she got out her eye shadow compacts first, trying to decide on her look. Hmm, smoky or understated? Smoky, she decided. That was the look she had the first time she met Jonathan. Her friend Marianne had helped with her makeup that night, and the teenage Jasmine had learned firsthand what a powerful thing it could be when done right.
Thinking she was older than 17, Jonathan had invited her to his show in Phoenix. By the time he learned her true age, it was too late to stop their blooming friendship…although he did wait to see her again until she turned 18 a few weeks later. Even though they never did get to the next level, Jasmine was still proud that she had gotten the notoriously picky Rock star’s attention in the first place.
Her makeup seemed to take forever. She wanted everything to be perfect – not an eyebrow hair out of place. Once she was satisfied, she dropped her eye shadow and lipstick in her clutch bag and left the bathroom, her breath as quick as her steps.
After a detour through her room to put on a black metal mesh cuff bracelet that matched her dress, Jasmine went out to the living room and peeked through the vertical blinds just as the kitchen clock hit 8:00. Right on time, Jonathan’s Aston-Martin pulled up to the curb.Okay. Let’s do this.
As she stepped outside, Jonathan got out of the car and started walking up the concrete stairway that led to the house. Jasmine met him halfway, trying not to gape at the sight of the immaculately clad British man. He had paired a gunmetal grey shirt with sleek black trousers, held on his slender hips by a grommet-studded leather belt. Tonight, his hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that allowed the longer layers around his face to swing free. He extended a hand to her, exposing the tattoos on his wrist underneath the cuff of his shirt.
“Evenin’ Jas. You look stunning,” he told her before bringing the knuckles of her right hand to his lips, playing the Gentleman Rogue role to the hilt. If she had still been 18, she would have hyperventilated herself into a coma on the spot.
Arm in arm, they descended to the sidewalk. “Bianca’s is that way,” Jasmine told him, jerking her head toward the north.
“Are you sure the walk isn’t too far?” Jonathan asked, glancing at her platform wedges. She had gone with the tallest pair she owned so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck looking up at him all night.
With a breezy laugh, she waved off his question. “They’re more comfortable than they look. And it’s only three blocks to the restaurant. I’m good.”
“Right, then. If you say so.” Jonathan reached out for her hand and her heart went into a barrel roll.