Small-town girl Evelyn Kendall has just arrived in Brooklyn Heights. With a new job and her best friend as a roommate, she’s ready for an epic adventure free from her family’s constant supervision. She’s not prepared for the muscle-bound, tattooed star who appears out of nowhere and rocks her world.
When Charlie locks gazes with the freckled brunette at his first solo gig, he falls hard and fast for reasons he can’t explain. Determined to keep Evelyn in his life, he’s ready to change his ways, even if they run blood deep. But will their instant attraction be enough to weather the storm brought on by the perils of fame, Charlie’s secrets, and Evelyn’s overly protective brothers?
Warning: This book is filled with sexy bad boys and strong leading ladies. If you’re looking for an engaging read with panty-melting love scenes, then you’ve come to the right place.
Praise for Brooklyn Rockstar:
“A beautiful story with HOT sex scenes and characters you just can’t help but fall in love with!”
“[Charlie Walker] checks all the right boxes. Rock star looks, personality, body, tattoos…yep, he’s got them covered.”
“Jennifer Ann gave me all I could want in a sexy, bad boy rocker with way too much of most things.”
“This book was extremely well written – from the chemistry, to the secrets that Charlie holds. Add to that a nice line of suspense, a line that will encompass much of the story as well as bring light to many of the readers’ questions, and the book was a page-turner and one I didn’t want to put down.”
“Charlie Walker is a freakin rock god. Holy crap was that man sex on a stick.”
Before long the small bar erupts with screams, whistles, and applause. Nolan appears on the stage, adjusting the microphone to his height and waiting as the noise dies down. “Thank you all for coming here tonight!” Sweat beads at his hairline as he brushes his fingers over the sides of his jeans. “It gives me great pleasure to bring to you one of Brooklyn’s own, a man who needs no introduction, the one and only Charlie Walker!”
A man even bigger than Nolan with unruly dark hair swaggers across the small stage, black acoustic guitar in hand, and claps Nolan on the back.
In person, Charlie Walker is ten times more handsome—and built—than he appeared in the “Coney Island Kid” video, possessing the charisma of a movie star. There’s a golden glow to his skin like there was in the video, though his face doesn’t appear as flawless, mostly due in large part to a light stubble growing along his jawline and a small scar nestled inside one of his eyebrows. With his extraordinarily good looks and the sculpted body of a gym rat, he makes holey jeans, flip-flops, and a faded T-shirt look like something right off a runway.
My heart races when I recall the way he flirted with the camera and his deep voice rumbled from my computer’s speakers while I brought myself to a blissful climax. If he had been the one touching me, I would’ve combusted on the spot. Just the thought of tasting his pouting bottom lip has me suddenly wet.
After casually settling on the wooden stool in the center, he sets the guitar in his lap and adjusts the microphone.
When the older blonde at my side blows him a kiss, Charlie answers with a wink that jars me from my fantasies. Then, as if drawn by a magnet, his icy blue eyes catch with mine and his smile slowly fades. Something deep inside my chest clicks into place as we stare at each other. Holy hell, the man is certifiably gorgeous.
“Someone’s made an impression,” Sharlo teases, elbowing me in the ribs. “Be careful or you’ll become one of his groupies. Before you know it you’ll be preggers with his love child and following him on tour.”
Charlie’s eyes close and he shakes his head before his dazzling smile returns. His eyes avert away from me to the general crowd as he takes the microphone in his thick fingers. “Hello, Brooklyn!” he calls out in the same low, rumbling sound that brought me to orgasm when watching his video.
Hello Brooklyn is right. The screaming resumes until there’s a dull ringing in my ears.
Amidst the obnoxious racket of women, I pretend to check my phone for messages.
As he starts strumming the guitar and crooning an easy-going, beautiful melody, I lose myself in the music, forgetting about the strange interaction between us. Damn, the guy can really sing.
Sharlo shimmies up into my side and I laugh, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and shaking my body along to the beat. A couple of months ago, I never would’ve pictured myself standing here instead of busting my butt for minimum wage in a town I despised for most of my life. I’m in New York with a friend I’ve been dying to meet for years, free to do whatever the hell I want. Things are stellar enough on their own. Who needs a gorgeous rockstar?
Jennifer Ann is the pen name used by Jen Naumann when writing steamy romance novels with complex love stories. Like her characters, she’s in love with the city of New York and can often be found either there or at concerts, rocking with the best of them. On the rare occasions she realizes she’s no longer a spring chicken, you can catch her driving a tractor alongside her husband in southern Minnesota while trying to keep up with the madness of their four active children.
Jennifer also writes YA paranormal under Jen Naumann.
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