Category Archives: Backstage Pass Excerpts

Backstage Pass Deleted Scene 1 – Strip Guitar Hero

This scene was deleted from the original manuscript of

Backstage Pass

by Olivia Cunning


Myrna wasn’t getting anything accomplished.  Her entire reason for returning home–to get caught up on her research–wasn’t possible with Brian around.  The man got bored way too easily.  He watched some sports and Looney Tunes on TV (not quietly, he talked to the cartoon characters and yelled at the players the entire time), worked his way through her guitar riff collection looking for inspiration, declared he needed to utilize his muse and coaxed her into having sex in every nook and cranny of her apartment–she’d found the top of the washing machine during the spin cycle to be the most exciting so far.  He was getting a lot of music written, and faxing it to Trey in Los Angeles, but she couldn’t get anything done.

Jeremy hadn’t called her in the two days since Brian had arrived.  She could function without worrying about him constantly now, and she’d even opened the blinds and curtains in the living room.  Not the bedroom though.  She couldn’t stand the thought of him watching her while she slept.  And if Jeremy was watching her anywhere in the apartment, he was getting an eyeful.  Brian was insatiable.

And bored.

He was currently digging through her hall closet looking for new forms of entertainment and pretending not to pout because she had refused to have sex with him until she finished entering the data from three weeks ago.  Because according to Brian, he didn’t pout.  Uh-huh.  Sure.

She watched him pull a red and black plastic guitar from the deep recesses of the closet.  She gave him grief about distracting her, but most of it was her fault.  She liked looking at him.  Liked it when he gave Wile E. Coyote advice.  Liked it when he got excited by a home run, jumped to his feet and dumped his popcorn on the floor.  Liked the way he put ketchup on everything and didn’t complain when she overcooked his scrambled eggs.  Liked the way he looked at her when he decided it was time to compose yet another piece of music.  She couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t be consumed by the man. Except fear.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding up the miniature plastic guitar.  “Do you have a video game system?  Have you been holding out on me?”

“It’s in there somewhere.  I had to put it away because I’d waste hours playing the damned thing.”

She set her data aside again and helped him find the console, wires, controllers and games.  She actually had a lot of games.  She wished she would have thought to keep him occupied with the game system earlier.

“I didn’t know you were a gamer,” he said.  He looked pleased.  As if he’d just discovered a treasure map and the X was standing right beside him.

“Were, yes.  I had to break my addiction to games.”

“You don’t want to play with me?”

“Maybe later.  I still need to get that data entered.”

He pouted, though he continually claimed he never pouted.  “I think you need to retire.”

“Retire?  How am I supposed to support myself if I retire?  I’m only thirty-five years old.”

“I’ll support you.”

She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head.  She shoved the video game system into his gut.  “Go play,” she demanded.  “I’ve got to get my work done.  We’ll be back on the road in six days and then I’ll have even more data to enter.”

He kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth to caress the tip of her tongue.  Her knees went weak and the expected heat, moisture, and achiness settled between her thighs.  He drew away and gazed down at her, his eyes glassy with passion.

“When I’m done entering my data, we’ll play strip Guitar Hero,” she promised.

“Strip Guitar Hero?  Never heard of it.”

“I just made it up.  You better go practice.  You don’t want to be totally naked, while I’m still fully clothed.”

“You think you can beat me?”

She grinned.  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

She forced herself to concentrate on her work and not laugh at her lover as every note he missed on the game was met with a different expletive.

“I think a real guitar is easier than this piece of shit,” he growled.  Missed another note.  “Son of a fuck!”

He’d started mixing expletives at this point.

“Maybe you should play the Sinners song on there,” she suggested.

“I’ll make a real ass of myself then,” he said.  “Unable to play my own composition on a frickin’ plastic guitar.”  Missed a note.  “Assbitch!”

“You should try easy mode until you get used to it.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Of course not.”

“You think you can do better?”

“I think my seven-year-old nephew can do better.”

“Low blow, Myr.”

She giggled.

“Besides I didn’t ask about your nephew.  I asked if you can do better.”

She sighed and shoved her data aside.  Again.  She’d never get this finished with him around.  She grabbed her spare guitar controller–a black and white one–and plugged it into the console.

“Prepare to get naked,” she said.

“I’m always prepared to get naked when you’re around.”  He leaned over and kissed her temple.

She was a little out of practice, but still better than he was.  She beat him at every song they played.  She requested he remove his belt first, both boots, both socks, and his shirt.  He was down to his jeans and boxers while she was still fully clothed.  He took to cheating–licking her face during any sustained note.  Free Bird had a lot of sustained notes.  She wiped her face on her shoulder again and missed another string of notes.

“Knock it off,” she growled.  “Stop being a sore loser.”

When the song finally ended, he came out two percent in the lead.  “Hah, I beat you!  I want your panties.”

“I have to remove my pants to take my panties off.”

“Exactly.  I beat you.  Beat you.  Beat yoooou.”  He pointed at her.  “You have to do what I say.”

“You’re a sore loser, but you’re an even worse winner,” she grumbled.

She peeled her yoga pants down her thighs.  While she was removing her panties, Brian stole her pants and stuffed them down the front of his loose-fitting jeans.

“Hey,” she complained, “give those back.”

She stuck her hand in his pants, and he caught her wrist.  “I think they’re deeper than that,” he said, guiding her hand into his boxer shorts.

Her fingers brushed the warm, smooth skin of his cock.  She stroked him until he grew hard in her hand and then moved away to start the next song.  Apparently, having a hard-on improved his skills, or standing in the living room with a bare ass broke her concentration.  Whatever the reason, he beat her again.

“Why didn’t you tell me to strum both up and down?” he asked.

“You weren’t strumming up and down?  No wonder you keep missing notes.”

He grinned.  “I want your bra.”

She weaseled out of her bra without removing her shirt and tossed it at him.  “Heh, you thought you could steal my shirt too, didn’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter.  I can beat you now.”

When he figured out that he could use hammer-ons and pull-offs in the next song, Myrna realized she’d never get him out of his pants.  At least not by beating him at Guitar Hero.

“Well, I’m butt-assed-naked now,” she said, peeling her shirt off over her head and hitting him in the side of the head with it.  “You win.”

He pulled her pants out of his jeans and tossed them at her.  “You still have your pants.”

“You sure are cocky now that you don’t have to resort to cheating,” she grumbled.

“I’m having fun,” he said.  He started the next song.

She scowled.  “Are you saying you’d rather play this game than get me naked?”

“No, I’m saying I want to get you naked by beating you.  Which is surprisingly easy.”  He grinned at her.

Apparently, it was easy.  She’d been naked through several songs when she finally got him out of his jeans.  When she beat him on the next song, and he shed his boxers, she suspected he let her win.

“Did you let me win?” she asked.

“Maybe.  Now we play for sexual favors, right?  I’d say you already owe me a few.”

“No one said we were playing for sexual favors,” she said, taking her guitar off over her head.

“You don’t wanna?”  His non-existent pout made an appearance.

“I have work to do,” she reminded him.

He shrugged and switched to one player mode.  She sat on the sofa, still ass-naked, and reached for her laptop.  She couldn’t keep her eyes off the other naked ass in the room. While she attempted to concentrate on the task at hand, he played his video game nonchalantly in the buff.  Damn him anyway.  She set her computer aside and moved to stand behind him.  She ran her fingers over his hard chest, flat belly, the ridges of his hipbones.  She loved his narrow hips, especially when they were nestled between her thighs.  She stroked his hips up and down with the palms of her hand, then shifted her touch to his firm buttocks.  She dropped a kiss on his shoulder blade.

“I thought you had work to do,” he murmured.

She didn’t take his bait, just kept touching him.  Sliding both hands up his back, over his shoulders, down his hard biceps.  She pinched his nipples between her thumb and the side of her index finger, and then raked her nails down his belly.  He groaned, his plastic guitar now resting at an odd angle as he grew hard with desire.  She grinned to herself, hands moving over his hips and inner thighs, but avoiding his cock.

Song Failed, the TV announced.

“You’re not doing so well, Master Sinclair,” she teased.

He sucked a breath through his teeth as her hands moved over his hips and back to his buttocks.  He started the next song, playing with renewed concentration.  She circled his body and kissed his jaw, fingers trailing up his spine as she gazed up at him, suggestion in her eyes.

“I can’t see,” he complained, craning his neck to see the TV over her head.

“Sorry,” she said, dropping to her knees in front of him.  She didn’t touch him but he missed a long string of notes when she eased his guitar up to reveal the effect her teasing had on him.  She gripped his buttocks with both hands and directed his engorged flesh into her mouth.

“Ah,” he breathed in.  The plastic guitar landed somewhere on the floor and his fingers twisted in her hair to drive himself deeper.

As hard as it was for her to ignore him, she knew he couldn’t ignore her either.  She wouldn’t allow it.


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Backstage Pass Excerpt 2 – Creative Composing (Sex Scene)

Excerpt from

Backstage Pass

by Olivia Cunning


Brian bent to retrieve his pants—giving Myrna a spectacular view of his perfect, bare ass—and fished a condom out of his pocket. Her breath caught. He tore the package open with his teeth and unrolled the condom over his cock. Such a shame to cover its perfection from her view, but it meant…

He climbed back onto the bed and settled his narrow hips between her thighs.

“You want me?” she whispered around the knot in her throat.

“Did you seriously just ask me that?” He brushed her hair from her damp cheeks, and kissed her tenderly. His lips tasted and smelled like her. So intimate. He lifted his head to stare into her eyes. “I think the question is do you still want me, or did I overdo it a little?”

“I still want you. So much,” she whispered. “I’m not sure I can move though.”

He grinned crookedly. “I’ll do all the moving at first.”

He rocked his hips forward, probing for her opening without using his hands for guidance. When he found her, he slid into her slowly, holding her shoulders as he burrowed deeper and deeper.

“Mmmmm,” he murmured and buried his face in her neck. “Certified Grade A.”

Her brow creased. “What?”


His strokes were slow and deep. Slow and deep. Slow and deep. Stretching her wide, withdrawing. He more than filled her. She’d never been with a man as well-endowed as he was. Perhaps it was his size that thrilled her. Nope, definitely the way he used it. She groaned—her excitement building again. His quiet gasps in her ear sent her lust spiraling out of control. Her hands moved to his ass, digging into his flesh as she bucked her hips against him. His gasps grew shaky and punctuated. His strokes faster and harder. And harder. And harder. Harder. God yes, harder. Make me feel you, Brian. Drive everything away but you.

Myrna’s head banged into the headboard. “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he whispered, rubbing her head with the palm of his hand. “Too hard?”

She shook her head vigorously. “I like it.”

He dragged her sideways across the bed, turning her partially on her side, so that he straddled one of her legs. He wrapped her other leg around his waist.

“Oh,” she gasped at the change in stimulation. She liked that, too.

He thrust into her, biting his lip as he pounded against her. Soon his hard thrusts pushed her beyond the edge of the bed. She caught herself with her hand to keep from tumbling to the floor.

“Damn it,” he growled, and pulled her back up onto the bed. “I can’t seem to get deep enough. I want… I need…” He gasped and ground his hips as he pushed into her. His fingers dug into her hips as held her steady, seeking to possess her fully.

“Let me try.” She pushed him onto his back and sighed in frustration when he slid out of her. Emptiness replaced the perfect way he filled her. She hurried to straddle his hips and sank down on his thick cock, taking him as deep as he would go, stretched to her limits. Her head tilted back in ecstasy.

His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her down, urging her body to take more of him. “Deeper,” he groaned.

She bounced against him, taking him a centimeter at a time until, at last, she had accepted all of him.

“Now you have all of me,” he whispered, looking up at her through heavy eyelids. His fingers traced paths up and down her spine, making her shudder. “Ride me, baby. Show me how you like it.”

He cared how she liked it? She didn’t understand why that turned her on so much, but she rode him. Lifting her hips and grinding downward, gyrating to stimulate her clit against his pubic bone. She used him for her pleasure, ignoring his needs. She just wanted to get off. An orgasm rippled through her. She cried out, but didn’t stop. Again. She wanted to come again with him inside her. She took him faster, rotating slightly with each downward stroke. She wasn’t sure when she’d started chanting his name. “Brian. Brian.” After her second orgasm? “Oh, Brian.” Her third? “God, Brian. Yes.”

His hips rose off the bed to meet her strokes. He bit his lip, his head tossed back. She’d never seen anything sexier in her life. Watching his expression was almost better than the waves of pleasure coursing through her own body.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he shouted, and grabbed her firmly by the hips to stop her gyrating thrusts. “Stop, stop. Give me a minute.”

She slapped him hard on the chest. “Don’t hold back on me, goddammit. I wanna make you come.”

“No, no. Not yet. Not yet. Damn.” He pulled her off him and tossed her onto her back in the center of the bed. “Shit, shit, I’m going to lose it.”

Lose what? His erection? Not bloody likely. He was as hard as granite.

He rolled on top of her and slid inside her again. Her eyes drifted closed. Her back arched, rubbing her belly against his. The fingers of his left hand tapped rhythmically against her shoulder. His strokes were different this time, a three-quarter time beat, if she wasn’t mistaken, and he was humming under his breath.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Shh. Shh. I’ve almost got it.”

She watched him for a moment, trying to figure out the sudden change in him. “Are you hearing music in your head?”

“Shh, sweetheart. Please.”

She fell silent. Whatever he was doing was obviously important. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the perfect rhythm of his deep strokes. The riff he hummed in her ear was outstanding. Sensual. Even more sensual than his usual work. She’d never heard anything like it before, and she was a collector of excellent guitar segments.

He paused and looked down at her. “I need something to write on.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Baby, I haven’t written a new riff in months. You are beyond awesome.” He grinned down at her, pumping into her hard and steady. “Making love to this perfect body stimulates more than my cock.”

“Thanks.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I guess.”

He reached for a pen on the side table and uncapped it. He wiped the sweat from her body with the sheet and drew a straight line across her chest. He then added a series of dots on, above, and below the line. Scribbled letters appeared here and there. E. C. C#. She just watched him, too surprised to protest. The line of musical notes continued across her breasts, under her breasts, several lines along her belly.

He paused, his eyes drifting closed. “God, you feel good, Myrna. So good.” She planted her feet on the bed, lifted her hips and gyrated. “Yeah.” He rose up on his knees slightly and thrust forward, grinding deep. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Take me. All of me. Inside.” He began to pump into her again, withdrawing only slightly as if he didn’t want to move at all. “I hear you,” he whispered.

Her brow furrowed. Her panting? Is that what she meant?

He pulled out unexpectedly, leaving her empty. She groaned in protest.

“Turn over,” he demanded breathlessly.


“I’m out of space and this solo you’ve inspired…” He shook his ink pen at her.

She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“All geniuses are.”

She smiled and rolled onto her stomach. She’d thought he’d just start writing on her back, but he eased her onto her knees and slid his cock inside her again. He thrust into her with the same rhythm as before, drawing notes across the skin of her back while she groaned. This man would be her downfall. She knew it with a certainty. She rocked back against him, loving the way his balls slapped against her with each steady stroke.

“Hold still,” he complained.

“Then stop screwing me so well.”

“I need the rhythm to get the spacing of the notes right. I could call Sticks for a tempo, if you’d like.”

“I prefer this method.” She concentrated on holding still for him so he could write and maintain his rhythm at the same time.

“God, me, too. But I need to come soon. I’m about to explode. Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you are?”

He scattered line upon line of notes across her back and then tossed the pen across the room. He leaned forward to squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples as he deserted his music-writing tempo for quick shallow strokes. His moans grew louder and louder as he gave himself over to pleasure.

With one final deep thrust, he cried out, “Myrna. Oh, God. Oh God, yes.”

She felt him shudder violently behind her and regretted that she couldn’t see his face. He grasped her hips and held her still, grinding deeply until his spasms calmed.

He pulled out and collapsed on the bed beside her, eyes closed, breathing hard. “That was fantastic.” He drew her down beside him and placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “I’d cuddle with you, but I don’t want to sweat off my riff and solo.”

She laughed. “That must be the first time that excuse has ever been used to avoid after-sex cuddling.”

He took her face between both hands and kissed her reverently. Never had she been kissed reverently before.

“It’s the truth though. I’d love to hold you close for hours.”

She smiled. A sweet sex god. What more could a girl want? He kissed her again.

“Ah Myrna,” he murmured. “I think my muse resides deep, deep inside you.”

“You sure know how to use her in exactly the right way.”


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Posted by on March 5, 2011 in Backstage Pass Excerpts, Sex Scenes


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Backstage Pass Excerpt 1 – Myrna and Brian Meet Backstage

Excerpt from

Backstage Pass

(pg 89 – 91)

by Olivia Cunning


Myrna stopped in front of the bathroom door and knocked.

“Occupied,” Brian’s voice came from the other side.

“It’s Myrna. Can I come in?”

The door opened. A hand in a fingerless, leather glove grabbed her forearm and tugged her inside. Brian wrapped her in a tight embrace. She buried her nose in his leather jacket at his shoulder. God, he smelled good. In the three hours since she’d last seen him, she’d actually missed him. Not good. She had to say good-bye to him in a couple hours.

“I’m glad you made it,” he murmured.

His hard body trembled against her. She leaned back to look at him and she couldn’t help but gape. Heavy, black eyeliner surrounded his eyes.

“You’re wearing more makeup than I am.”

“Do I look like a pussy?” Staring into the mirror above the sink, he barred his teeth at his reflection to make himself look mean.

Myrna hugged him from behind. “No. As always, you look sexier than should be allowed by law.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

Her hand slid down to cup his package through his pants. “No, but I might have to punish you.”

Brian caught her hand. “Don’t get me worked up now,” he said. “I’ve got to be on stage in thirty minutes and I can barely walk as it is.”

She chuckled. Her hips and legs had gotten quite a workout today, as well. “I know the feeling. Is that why you’re trembling?”

He shook his head. “Typical preshow jitters. I’ll be fine once I’m on stage.”

He tugged her around his body so that she faced him. She leaned back against the sink and accepted his tender kiss.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “I had it in my head that I’d never see you again.”

“I wouldn’t miss this show for anything. I might not look it, but I’m your biggest fan.”

“I like this suit.” He fingered the top button of her blouse. “Do you have your garters on underneath?”

“If I decide you’re worthy, you might find out after the show.”

“Now there’s an incentive. I need to get warmed up. My fingers are stiff.”

“Will you kiss me first?”

He rested his hands on the sink on either side of her hips and leaned forward to claim her mouth. Like a struck a match, she ignited with need. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers intertwined with the hair at the nape of his neck. Normally soft, it was now stiff and sticky with hairspray and gel. She felt she had access to two undeniably sexy men in one. The real Brian she’d spent the day with—a ten out of ten. And this rock star version, Master Sinclair—another ten out of ten. They were the same person, and yet, totally different.

Pulling away slowly, he opened his eyes to pin her with a sultry look. “I’ll play something for you on stage.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

“You’ll know.”

Leaving Myrna leaning against the sink, Brian opened the bathroom door. Some girl with black and purple hair was instantly in his face. “Master Sinclair!  Finally. I’ve been waiting to see you for-like-ever!” She grabbed his arm and hopped up and down. “Oh my God, I loooooove you. Can I have your autograph? Pleeeeeease.”

He scarcely glanced at her as he signed the insert to a Sinners’ CD that she’d handed him.

The girl looked over his shoulder into the bathroom. “Who’s that?”

“None of your business.” He handed her pen and CD insert back to her. “Go get me a beer.”

And off she went without protest.

Myrna laughed. Brian glanced at her over his shoulder, an eyebrow quirked at her. She shook her head at him, still grinning. How easy would it be to get a superiority complex with these fans racing around to fulfill your every desire?


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Posted by on March 5, 2011 in Backstage Pass Excerpts


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Backstage Pass – Chapter 2

Backstage Pass (Sinners on Tour)

by Olivia Cunning


Chapter 2

Brian flushed the toilet and leaned against the stall door. He pressed the back of his wrist against his mouth and swallowed several times to fight his nausea. No good. He rushed forward and vomited into the toilet again. One day he would learn the limit of his alcohol tolerance. Apparently, today wasn’t the day.

“Dude, do you need me to hold your hair for you?” Eric called from outside the stall. He snickered.

“Fuck you,” Brian gasped, and threw up again.

“That’s a lot of perfectly good beer you’re wasting.”

“If you want it, come get it.” Brian leaned against the cool, metal partition and flushed the toilet with his foot. He stood there for a moment and finally decided he felt well enough come out of the stall.

Eric looked at him hopefully. “Better?”

Brian nodded slightly.“You’ve gotta stop letting chicks get to you.”

Tell him something he didn’t know. Brian moved to the sink and rinsed his mouth with water several times before glancing in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes. Pale and waxy skin. He ran a hand over his slack face. “God, I look like shit.”

“I don’t notice any difference.”

Brian held up the three centermost fingers of his right hand.“Read between the lines, asshole.”

Eric looked more puzzled than usual. “I never learned to read.”

“Here, let me help you.” Brian bent his ring finger and index finger down, leaving his middle finger extended. “Do you know sign language?”

“Nope. Sorry.” Eric punched him in the arm, thumbed his nose,and punched him again. Brian knew he’d feel those in the morning. Eric never held back in his blows.

“You ready to go back? You sure made an ass of yourself in front of that classy babe.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Luckily, Brian probably wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow.“Come on. Let’s go.”

“What’s your rush?” Brian asked.“How often do you get to hang out with a sophisticated sexpot like her?”

“Besides last night when I boned your mom?”

“Dude, if I had a mom, I might take offense.”Brian scowled. Why had he said that? Being drunk was no excuse. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean…” He rubbed his face vigorously with both hands. “Fuck.”

“If we don’t hurry back, Sed will be all over that sweet piece of ass.”

Brian splashed some cool water on his face. “Yeah, so what’s new?” Sed was all over every sweet piece of ass.

“It’s totally unfair. Sed gets all the pussy.”All of them did fine with that. Couldn’t complain. Actually,it would do Brian good to lay off the pussy for a while. “We all get plenty.”

“But Sed gets all the good pussy. This is Certified Grade A pussy we’re talking about, Be-Rye. He’s probably already got her on her back with her ankles around his neck.” He tilted his head back and did his best chick-getting-laid-by-Sed impression. “Oh Sed. Yes. Yes.Sed. Ohhhh!”

Brian rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re an ass, Eric.You know that?”

“I’d like a piece of ass. I do know that. Hurry the fuck up or I’mgoing back without you.”

Brian dried his face on a paper towel and headed for the bathroom exit. “All right then, let’s go get you some Certified Grade A pussy.” He clapped Eric on the back, walking without any assistance now. Eric had no chance with Myrna if Sed had his sights on her. But hey, a guy could dream.

When they reached the table, Brian found Myrna sitting demurely next to Sed. All her clothes were still in place. Sed’s hand wasn’t up her skirt. They weren’t even making out. In fact, they were talking and laughing. Even Jace, who said fewer than five words in the average day, chatted quietly with the Certified Grade A Sex Professor.

When Brian’s shadow crossed her face, Myrna glanced up at him and smiled brightly. She had a great smile, flashing perfect,white teeth between soft, kissable lips. “Are you feeling better?” She looked him over with genuine concern.

Don’t do that, he thought. I’m still trying to get over what’s-her face. Angie. Yeah. I’m trying to get over Angie. Brian glanced at Sed, who avoided his accusatory glare by finding Jace uncommonly interesting.


Brian’s heart panged unpleasantly and he clenched his fist.

That fucking slut.

“Yeah, I feel a little better,” he said to Myrna.

“He blew chunks,” Eric found necessary to inform everyone.

Myrna patted the seat next to her, which apparently signaled Eric to shove Brian out of the way so he could sit next to her.

She laughed and hugged Eric’s arm. “Thanks for taking care of Brian.”

Eric beamed. “Hey, no problem. That’s what friends are for.”


Brian took a seat next to Trey, who lounged on the bench across from Myrna with a lollipop stick protruding from his mouth. Trey had to be the only guy on earth who could make sucking ona lollipop look cool. He’d given up smoking a few months ago, but still needed something in his mouth at all times. His dentist made a killing.

“So are you really a fan of ours?” Eric asked Myrna.

“Yeah, for years. Even before you made it really big. I use snippets of your guitar music in my classes to discuss male sensu…” She glanced at Brian, her eyes widening as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

She never finished the thought, because Jace decided now was a good time to break his regular silence. “She even knows all of our names.”

Looking relieved about the subject change, she pointed to each of them in turn. “Eric Sticks−drums. Three bass drums, fourteen cymbals. He does it with perfect rhythm.”

“Every time,” he said, tapping the table with his palms.

“Sedric Lionheart. Lead vocals. The sound of his voice makes the ladies cream their panties.”

Sed leaned closer to her and said in his signature, baritone growl, “Yours included? I could sing a few bars, if you like.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Ah, you’re killing me, Myr.”

She grinned deviously. Brian wondered what he’d missed whilehe’d been worshiping the porcelain god. Just like Sed to move in for the kill immediately.

She continued, “Jace Seymour. Bassist.” She paused, contemplating the newest member of their band.

“Hey, don’t I get a byline?” Jace complained.

Myrna leaned across Sed and beckoned Jace closer. She whispered something in his ear and he flushed to the roots of his bleached hair.

“Seriously?” he sputtered.

She stared into his eyes and nodded. “Seriously.”

Now that was just wrong. What had she told him?

“Trey Mills. Rhythm guitarist. Dreamy green eyes to melt hearts. Nimble fingers to, well, get a lady’s thoughts going in all sorts of inappropriate directions.”

Trey winked and wriggled his fingers at her.

Her eyes moved to Brian. “Brian Sinclair.” She paused. Brian’s gaze focused on her pouty, pink lips. He wondered how many of her male students sat through her class with wood in their pants.Captivated, he waited for her words.

A slow smile spread across her lovely face. “A musical genius.”

No way! He didn’t get something sexy said about him? He might melt under the heat of her gaze, however. She wanted him. He’d been around enough women to know that look. Why had he drunk so much? He was in no condition to pull off any level of seduction.

“I guess she does know who we are,” Eric said.

“Did you think I was lying?” Myrna’s gaze moved to Eric.

“You just don’t look like a rocker. Like, at all.”

“What does a rocker look like?”

“More makeup. Fewer clothes. Piercings. Tattoos.”

“Who says I don’t have any piercings?”

Sed traced the edge of her ear with his fingertip, drawing attention to a pair of small diamond studs in her earlobe. “Ear piercings don’t count.”

“I wasn’t talking about my ears.”

Sed’s eyes searched her face. “Then where? I don’t see anyoth- Oh…”

Brian shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“So where is it?” Eric asked excitedly. “Navel? Nipple?”

“Clit?” Jace asked, his eyes downcast as he grinned crookedly.

That’s what Brian expected, too. Her clit. Fuck me. He found it challenging enough to stay upright with his head swimming from the booze. He sure didn’t need blood vacating his brain to engorge more attentive pieces of his anatomy. He clutched the table as the room tilted.

Myrna grinned, her hazel eyes moving to Brian’s face. “I’ll never tell,” she said, but her eyes said I’ll show you, Brian.

She was toying with him. She had to be. He practically had “drunk loser” tattooed on his forehead at the moment.

Sed leaned closer to her and whispered something in her ear. She shook her head.

“You’re killing me, Myr.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” Eric asked.

“Not as many as you do.” Myrna’s eyes widened. She pulled Eric’s hand above the surface of the table and released it. “You do not have permission to touch me.”

Brian bit his lip to hold back his laughter and lowered his gaze. Harsh! Surprisingly, none of the guys ripped on Eric for Myrna’s blatant dismissal. This chick was as intimidating as hell. Brian couldn’t remember the last time a woman had rattled his selfconfidence.High school?

“I assume your body art isn’t visible either.” Sed tugged the collar of her suit to one side to reveal an unmarked collarbone. Her elbow in his ribs convinced him to cease his inspection.

“I am a college professor. I have to maintain a certain level of propriety.”

“And you hang out with us in public?” Trey snorted and chuckled.

She glanced at her companions, considering each individually.“Good point.” She laughed. Delightful. Warm.

Brian bet there were other things about her that were delightful and warm.

“I need to head up to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Don’t go yet,” Eric protested.

Brian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Hadn’t she just publicly rejected him? And he wanted her to stay?

“Are you coming to our concert tomorrow night?” Trey asked.

Myrna’s jaw dropped. “You’re playing live? Oh my God. I’dabsolutely love to go!”

“It’s sold out,” Sed said.

She scowled. “That sucks. Well, I mean, it’s great for you, but it really sucks for me.”

“We’ll put you on the guest list. Come to the back door and give them the name Myrna Suxsed,” Sed said. “They’ll hook you up with a backstage pass.”

Eric snorted with laughter.

“That would be fantastic,” she said.

Brian found it hard to believe that she hadn’t caught Sed’s connotation. Or maybe she had.

She hugged Sed’s arm and somehow managed to avoid his questing lips. “Okay, scoot, Eric. I’m going up to my room now.”

“If I refuse to move, you can’t go anywhere,” Eric said smugly.

“Oh really?”


“I’ll just take a page from Brian’s book.”

Brian couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what she meant until she crawled up onto the table. She rolled off the table onto his and Trey’s laps. She smelled fantastic–coconut, vanilla, and something uniquely Myrna. His mouth went dry, his palms damp. My God, he was a glutton for punishment. He’d already had his heart broken once this week.

Myrna leaned close to his ear and whispered, “I’ve got something for you up in my room if you’d like a little help with your condition.”

His condition? He’d love her to help him with his condition. She’d gotten him in this condition after all. His self-confidence restored, Brian smiled. His hand wrapped around her narrow waist.

“Room 615,” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. “Don’t wait too long to come up. I want to get to bed soon.”

“Room 615.”

“That’s right.” She climbed from his lap and straightened her skirt before glancing over her shoulder at Eric. He was banging his head repeatedly on the table.

“You’ll stick around after the concert tomorrow, won’t you?” Sed asked.

“Of course.”

Trey saluted her with two fingers to his brow. “Good night,Professor.”

“Good night, Trey, Jace, Sed, Eric.” She nodded to each of them in turn.

“I had fun talking to you. Thanks for indulging me.” She picked up her laptop case and left the lounge, the eyes of every man in the room following the gentle sway of her hips.

“And thank you for en-bulging me,” Sed muttered.

“She wears garters under that suit,” Eric groaned.

“I saw that,” Sed murmured. “When she climbed up on the table.”

“I felt that… when I slid my hand up her skirt.” Eric banged his head on the table again.

“You didn’t make much progress, did you?” Sed said. “She’s good at throwing off a guy’s advances without making it obvious.”

“Or in Eric’s case, making it totally obvious.” Jace laughed and ducked to avoid Eric’s wild swing across the table.

“None of that here, Eric,” Sed said. “You’ll end up getting arrested again.”

“Why didn’t she say good night to you, Brian?” Trey, ever perceptive, asked.

“She wants me to come up to her room.”

“You lucky bastard.” Eric reached across the table to grab Brian by the shirt.

Brian slapped his hands away. He sat there for a moment, fighting the urge to put his head down on the table again. He massaged his face, but it was entirely numb. “I just wish I wasn’t so drunk. Christ!”

“You’re still going, aren’t you?” Trey crunched his sucker between his teeth and tossed the empty stick into an ashtray. “Rebound pussy?”

Brian glanced at his best friend and fellow guitarist. “What do you think?”

“I think we should tie you up and hide you in the tour bus,”Eric said. “She’ll think you stood her up. Then I’ll go console her and move in for the kill.” He opened his mouth and tapped the tips of his index and middle finger on his tongue.

“Dream on, Sticks.” Brian chugged half his glass of water and checked his breath by blowing into the palm of his hand. He winced. He pulled a sucker out of Trey’s jacket pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth. Too sweet. Bleh. He started to toss it in the ashtray, but Trey rescued it.

“I was gonna eat that.”

“Anyone have breath spray?” Brian asked. “My mouth tastes like road kill.”

Sed dug various tubes of spray, a tin of breath mints, and some gum out of his pocket.

“Sed’s make-out arsenal,” Eric said.

Brian spritzed some peppermint spray in his mouth, hurled the tube at Sed, the jerk, and then hauled himself to his feet by grabbing the edge of the table. He stumbled sideways into the bench’s back, but quickly regained his footing. Get it together,man. There is a seriously hot chick waiting upstairs to help you with your condition.

“Twenty bucks says he passes out before he can get his dick out of his pants,” Sed said.

“I’ll take that bet,” Eric said. “There ain’t a man alive who’d passout before sliding into that Certified Grade A pussy.”

“He’ll get it out of his pants, but he’ll pass out before he does anything with it,” Jace said.

“He won’t even find her room.” Trey entered his bet and polished off his beer in three gulps. He stuck the cherry sucker he’d rescued from Brian in his mouth.

Brian shook his head. The company he kept. Sheezus!

He concentrated on walking a straight line to the elevator and,once inside, pushed the button to the sixth floor. He leaned against the wall as the car rose, his stomach settling in his boots. What was her room number again? Six something teen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Fourteen? He should have written it down. His eyes drifted closed as he thought about the feel of her breath against his ear. Her soft voice played through his head. Six fifteen. He remembered now. He knew he wasn’t at his best. Why had she picked him? What could she possibly find attractive about him at the moment? Not that he was complaining. He just didn’t get it. And she’d been sitting next to Sed. The guy drew chicks like moths to a flame. Even unavailable chicks. Like Angie.

That sucking flut.

He needed another beer. Or three. Maybe he could raid Myrna’s mini-bar. Or maybe she could use those pouty lips of hers to wipe the image of Angie sucking Sed’s dick from his memory. Yeah, he liked that plan better. What had Trey called it? Rebound pussy. Exactly what he needed. He just had to keep his head together and not fall for this one.Once off the elevator, he followed a sign to the correct corridor, stopped at the door labeled 615, and knocked.

“Just a second,” she called from inside.

A small victory. Trey lost the bet.

Brian leaned his forearm against the door frame to keep himself on his feet and rested his forehead against his arm. He really needed to sleep this off. He hoped she wasn’t hard to satisfy. He wasn’t even sure if he could maintain an erection in his condition. She finally opened the door and smiled when he lifted his head to look at her. She’d removed her suit jacket, revealing a silky, white camisole and all sorts of creamy white flesh begging for his touch. God, she was fucking hot. Score!

“You really aren’t feeling well, are you?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. He didn’t want to lie, so he said nothing.

She stepped aside. “Come in.”

He pushed off the door frame and entered her room. She closed the door behind him, and he knew he had to move quickly or Sed would win the bet. Or worse, Jace would win and he’d pass out with his pants around his knees. He turned Myrna to face him and pressed her up against the door with his body. She gasped in surprise just before his mouth claimed hers in a passionate kiss.

She wrenched her head to the side, breathing hard. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“I never kiss on the first date.

”“This is our second date.”

She hesitated, her expression thoughtful. “Good point.”

Her fingers slid up his back and tangled in the longish hair at his nape. She closed her eyes and leaned closer. He rested his forearms on the door on either side of her head and tested her eagerness with a gentle brush of his lips against hers. Though his body told him to devour her, his partially functioning brain wanted to treasure the feel of her soft lips against his for the first time. His hands curled into tight fists over her head so they wouldn’t rip off her clothes.

He watched her through half-closed eyes as his lips caressed hers. She responded with total submission—mouth open, body limp, fingers digging into his scalp as if she were trying to control herself. It drove him crazy. And that wasn’t the only thing driving him crazy. The taste of her mouth, her scent, her warm, soft body against his, the barely perceptible sound of longing she made in the back of her throat.

Her tongue brushed his lip. His body tensed as if he’d been struck by lightning. She withdrew her tongue, coaxing his into her mouth with gentle strokes. He eagerly followed, caressing her lips with the tip of his tongue, and then touched her tongue with his. When her tongue tentatively caressed his in return, his eyes drifted closed.

After several moments, he pulled away and gazed down at her in the low light coming from the bathroom.

“I didn’t ask you to come to my room for this,” she murmured.

“You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “No, but you’re such a good kisser.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

He grinned and lowered his head to kiss her again. He pushed off the door and pulled her against him, his hands sliding down over the swell of her ass as he molded their lower bodies together. When was the last time a woman had worked him into a frenzy so quickly? Uh, never. He moved backward, toward the bed, drawing her along with him.

She dug her heels into the carpet and wrenched her head to the side. “I never have sex on a second date,” she said firmly.

“This is our third date.”

She wagged a finger at him. “That only works once, Master Sinclair.”

Her use of his stage name cooled him off significantly, but he still wanted her. Desperately. What was it about her that made his blood boil? She was so different from the girls he usually dated. So…proper? But no, not proper at all.

“How about I step into the hall for a couple of minutes and then return?” he suggested.

She laughed. “Brian, you’re drunk. I don’t sleep with drunks.”

He scowled. “But I’ll be sober in the morning.”

Her hands slid down his back to his ass. She pulled him closer, crushing his partially engorged cock against her pubic bone. “Promise?”

He gazed down at her, a lazy smile on his lips. “Oh, I get it.You’re a cock tease.”

She grinned. “Cocks were made to be teased.” She rotated her hips, rubbing against him.

He groaned, growing harder. More distracted.

“Besides… you like it,” she said.

Her naughty streak was showing, twinkling in her green flecked,hazel eyes. And yeah, he liked it. He liked it a hell of a lot.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I have a PhD in cock-tease-ology.”

“Was that an honorary degree?”

She laughed. “I’ve studied it for years. I’m something of an expert.”

He sighed. “Okay. So if I’m not going to get laid, why did you ask me to come to your room?”

“I already told you. I want to help you with your condition.”

“So you said. And that’s why I hurried up here, instead of passing out under the table in the lounge.”

“Sit down.”

He didn’t want to let her go, her soft curves fit against him so perfectly, but she wriggled out of his arms and disappeared into the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed to stop the room from spinning.

She returned a moment later and pressed two pills into his hand.

“Ecstasy?” He tossed the pills in his mouth without looking at them.

She handed him a sports drink and he swallowed the pills.

“Actually, that was Vitamin B and Vitamin C,” she said. “Drink that entire bottle.”

“You’re giving me vitamins?” He cocked an eyebrow at her and took another drink from the bottle.

“They’ll prevent a hangover.” She went over to a side cabinet and returned with a banana.

He eyed the piece of fruit warily. “I’m not that kinky, Professor Sex.”

She grinned. “I was hoping you are.”

“Okay, I am.” His cock throbbed. Fully erect now, it tried desperately to break free of the fly of his jeans. Was she really going to leave him in this condition? She’d said she would help him with it. And this wasn’t helping. At all.

She stood close to him, his knee between hers. The hem of her skirt brushed his thigh. He wanted to put more under that skirt than his knee. The silk of her top pulled against her breasts when she moved. Such nice breasts. So soft against his chest. The only thing keeping his hands off them was the orange-flavored sports drink he gripped with both hands. Well that, and the fear she’d tell him he did not have permission to touch her.

She peeled the banana, broke off a chunk and slid it in his mouth. “Eat it. It will settle your stomach and also help prevent a hangover.”

He chewed the piece of banana and swallowed. “You’re taking care of me?

”“Trying to. Are you resisting?”

Taking her hand, he kissed the inside of her wrist gently. “I like it. Can I do something for you?” He flicked his tongue against the inside of her wrist suggestively while looking up at her.

Her fingers curled involuntarily and her nipples hardened beneath her thin, white top. He found himself completely immersed in her. Her scent. The sound of her soft voice. The taste of her skin. And her body? Perfect. How much resistance would she offer if he tossed her down on the bed and tried to have his way with her?

“Grrrr.” Uh… Did he just growl? He hoped he’d imagined it.

She tugged her hand from his and took a step away. She seemed to realize he wasn’t as harmless as she’d first gauged.

“Sleep it off, Brian. And I might let you make it up to me tomorrow.” She broke off another piece of banana and pressed it into his mouth.

He chewed, swallowed, and chased the banana with the rest of his sports drink. He set the empty bottle on the side table and placed a hand on the back of her leg, just above her knee. She emitted an excited little gasp.

He grinned up at her. “You’d better get some rest then. You’ll need your stamina.”

“So will you.” She fed him more banana and shifted sideways out of his grasp. “Do you need me to help you get back to your room?”

He frowned. “I can’t stay here?” If he returned to the band’s hotel suite tonight, he’d never hear the end of it from the guys.

It made his head swim to look up at her, but he did it anyway .He liked to look at her. Gorgeous. Feminine. Mature. No girl, she was all woman. She maintained an outer appearance of propriety,but he sensed an undercurrent of blazing-hot sexuality. He’d never been with a woman like her. Sophisticated sensuality. What would she be like in bed? Reserved? Kinky? Passionate? Placid? Dominant? Submissive? He had to know.

She touched his lips with her fingertip. “If I let you stay, do you promise to behave?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her finger moved from his lips to trace his eyebrow. “In that case, I insist.”

He moaned and fell back on the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why did I have to get so drunk?”

“Take off your boots and climb into bed.”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss, at least?” he murmured. His eyes refused to open. His body went limp as he lost awareness.


Myrna leaned over Brian and pressed a goodnight kiss to his forehead. The poor guy had passed out cold. She bent to remove his black leather boots, took the spiked bracelet off his wrist and removed a long, silver chain from his belt loop. She rolled him onto his side, in case he threw up in the middle of the night, and covered him with a blanket.She watched him sleep for a moment. Brian Sinclair. Brian Sinclair, the renowned guitarist .Brian “Master” Sinclair, guitar hero, rock god, perfect specimen of a man, was passed out in her hotel room!

He’d kissed her. God, how he’d kissed her. If she didn’t have rules about when she allowed herself to have sex with a new acquaintance, he’d probably be making love to her right now. She seriously needed to amend her rules. Her body ached with wanting him. The man was too sexy for his own good.

She gnawed her lower lip as she watched him sleep. Would he still be interested in her when he wasn’t looking at her through beer goggles? Their age difference weighed heavily on her mind. She was at least seven years his senior, but she looked younger than 35. Everyone said so. Maybe he wouldn’t realize…

He’d probably figure it out tomorrow, though. She didn’t have the body of an eighteen year-old anymore. She’d just have to show him that being with an older woman had certain advantages. Assuming he was interested.The way he looked at her had made her bones melt. And his strong, yet gentle, touch? Her legs had almost given out on her when he’d placed a hand on the back of her thigh. It had been way too long since she’d last had sex. That had to be the explanation for the lustful creature he’d awakened in her. She’d just get him out of her system and send him on his way.

Myrna drew away from the bed to get ready to sleep with him. Heat rose to the surface of her skin. No, not sleep with him, sleep next to him. The ache between her thighs intensified. As she changed into her nightgown and hung her suit in the closet, she wondered if she’d ever get to sleep tonight. If she had any sense at all, she would have made him go back to his room, but he’d kissed her entirely senseless.

She went through her nightly routine and then climbed into bed next to Brian, suddenly grateful that she’d taken a suite with a single king-sized bed, instead of one with two queens. With only one available bed, she had a perfectly good reason to share it with him. Right? And with him passed out, he’d never know what she did to him while he slept.

She reached across the bed and took his hand, tracing his fingers in awe. She hadn’t just been making small talk in the lounge. The man really was a musical genius. These fingers worked magic on a fret board. She didn’t doubt they’d work magic on her skin. She gently kissed each fingertip of his left hand, and cradled it between her breasts. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head enough to sleep. When Brian shifted and buried her under his hard body, she decided sleep was highly overrated.

How long will these two be able to resist their undeniable attraction to each other? I’m guessing not long!

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Posted by on March 3, 2011 in Backstage Pass Excerpts


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Backstage Pass – Chapter 1

Backstage Pass (Sinners on Tour)

by Olivia Cunning


Chapter 1

A stack of handouts tumbled from Myrna’s laptop case to the floral-patterned carpet. Un-freakin-believable. She’d forgotten to zip the compartment in her haste to flee the seminar room. With a loud sigh, she bent to gather the scattered papers. Could this day suck a little more, please?

A chorus of “chug, chug, chug, chug,” followed by enthusiastic cheers came from across the lobby near the elevators. Well, someone was having a good time tonight. It certainly wasn’t her.

She crammed the papers inside her bag and jerked the zipper closed, before continuing through the overdone hotel lobby on her way to her sixth-floor room. A long, hot bath sounded like heaven. How had she let her associate dean talk her into presenting at this stupid conference in the first place? What a total waste of time. The other professors in her field wouldn’t know an innovative idea if it stood on its head and sang The Star Spangled Banner. And why did she care what her colleagues thought of her methods anyway? Students loved her classes. They were always full. She had waiting lists for—

Steps echoed hers. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She paused—her heart racing, palms damp.

Whoever followed stopped several steps behind her. She could hear him breathing.


No. It couldn’t be her ex-husband. He didn’t know how to find her. Right? Tell that to the cold sweat trickling between her breasts.

She clutched the handle of her laptop case, prepared to clobber whoever was dumb enough to sneak up on her.

“You gave a great seminar, Dr. Evans,” an unfamiliar voice said to her back.

Not Jeremy. Thank God. She took a deep, shaky breath and glanced over her shoulder.

A lanky, fortyish man extended his hand in her direction. “Who would ever think to use guitar riffs in discussions of human psychology? Not me. I mean, I’m sold on the method. I’m just not sure I can pull it off with your level of, uh…” He cleared his throat “…enthusiasm.” He grinned, gaze dropping to the neckline of her tailored, gray suit.

Her heart still hammering in her chest, Myrna suppressed the urge to throttle him and extended her free hand to accept his handshake. “Thank you, Mister uh…”

When his fingers wrapped around hers, his smile spread ear-to-ear. “Doctor. Doctor Frank Elroy from Stanford. Abnormal Psych. Head of the department, actually.”

Ah, Doctor Ass. Doctor Pompous Ass. I’ve met you before. Thousands of times.

She nodded and plastered a weary smile to her face. “Nice to meet you, Doctor Elroy.”

“Say, would you like to have a drink with me?” He nodded toward the cocktail lounge to her left, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

Myrna cringed inwardly while maintaining her smile. This guy was the antithesis of her type. Boring. No, thanks. Her present aversion to boring existed at a visceral level. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass. I was heading up to my room to crash. Maybe some other time.”

He deflated like a punctured balloon. “Sure. I understand. You must be exhausted after that lively…” He grinned again. “…discussion.”

Discussion? Had he been there? Bloodbath seemed a more fitting description and she felt particularly anemic at the moment.

“Yeah,” she muttered, eyes narrowing. She yanked her hand from his, spun on her heel, and continued toward the elevator, walking around the edge of the hotel’s bar and skirting several bushy, potted plants.

A loud round of laughter drew her attention to the cocktail lounge. Four men sat in a semi-circular booth, laughing at a fifth man who was lying on his back in the center of their table. The table, covered with glasses containing various amounts of amber liquid, tilted precariously under the man’s weight as he leaned to one side. His companions scrambled to rescue their beers from certain demise.

“Tell the room to stop spinning,” the lounging man shouted at the knock-off Tiffany lamp above the table.

“No more beer for you, Brian,” one of his friends said.

Brian held up a finger. “One more.” He lifted another finger, “or two,” another finger, “mmmmmaybe four.”

Myrna grinned. The five of them didn’t exactly “blend” with the conference attendees, mostly professors, scattered throughout the lounge and lobby. The unconventional crew in the booth drew more than their fair share of animosity and stares. Was it the tattoos? The various piercings and spiked jewelry? The dyed hair, strange haircuts and black clothing? Whatever. They were just guys being guys. And not a boring one in the bunch, she’d wager.

Myrna took a hesitant step toward the elevator. She’d love to go hang out with them for a while. She could use a little fun—something other than stimulating conversation with an intellectual. She got enough of that at work.

Brian, still lounging in the center of the table, vocalized a riff, while playing masterful air guitar on his back. Myrna recognized the series of notes at once. She used it in her class discussion on male sensuality, because no one on earth played a guitar more sensually than Master Sinclair. Hold the phone? Could that be…? Nah, what would the rock group Sinners be doing at a college teaching conference? They were probably just fans of the band, though the name Brian made her lead guitarist senses tingle. Wasn’t Sinners’ lead guitarist named Brian Sinclair?

One of the men seated in the booth turned his head to scratch his chin with his shoulder. Despite his mirrored sunglasses, she instantly recognized vocalist, Sedric Lionheart. Her heart rate kicked up a couple notches. It was Sinners.

“I am so fucking drunk!” Brian yelled. He rolled off the table, knocking over several empty beer glasses, and landed on the laps of two of his companions. They dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.

Myrna snorted and then glanced around to make sure no one had witnessed her produce such an unladylike sound. She had to go talk to them. She could pretend she wanted to meet them because of her seminar. In truth, she loved their music. They weren’t too hard on the eyes either. The definition of exactly her type. Wild. Yes, please. Guaranteed to give her exactly what she needed after the day she’d had.

Abandoning her plan to hide in her room, Myrna skirted the low wall that separated the lounge area from the corridor. She paused in front of Brian, who was struggling to crawl to his hands and knees. She set her lumpy laptop case on the floor and bent to help him to his feet. The instant she touched his arm, her heart skipped a beat and then began to race.

Animal magnetism. He had it. Hello, Mr. Welcome Diversion.

His gaze drifted up her legs and body, his face slowly tilting into view. He had features a sculptor would love: strong jaw, pointed chin, high cheekbones. Would it be presumptuous of her to examine the contours of his face with her fingertips? Her lips? She forced her attention to her hand, which gripped his well-muscled upper arm.

“Be careful with this arm,” she said. “So few guitarists have your skill.”

He used her support to stagger to his feet. When he stumbled against her, she caught his scent and inhaled deeply, her eyes drifting closed. Primal desire bombarded her senses. Did she just growl aloud?

His strong hands gripped her shoulders as he steadied himself. Every nerve ending in her body shifted into high alert. She couldn’t remember that last time she’d been instantaneously attracted to a man.

Brian released her and leaned against the back of the booth for support. He blinked hard, as if trying to focus his intense, brown eyes on her face. “You know who I am?” he asked, his voice slurred.

She smiled and nodded eagerly. “Who doesn’t?”

He waved a hand around theatrically, which set him even further off balance. “Every stuffed-shirt geek in the whole damned place, that’s who.”

He snarled at a gray-haired woman in a heavy cardigan who sat openly gaping at him. The woman gasped and turned her attention to her ocean blue cocktail, slurping the blended beverage through a tiny, red straw as nonchalantly as possible.

“Brian, don’t start shit,” Sed, the group’s lead singer, said.

The acidic look Brian shot at Sed could peel paint. “What? I’m not starting anything. These people all have fuck-king staring problems!”

True. They were staring. Most of them at Myrna now. Probably wondering how to best rescue her from enemy territory.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?” Myrna asked, hoping to become less noticeable by sitting. She tucked the lock of hair that had escaped her hairclip behind her ear and smiled at Brian hopefully. He stroked his eyebrow with his index finger as he contemplated her request. She knew what he must have been thinking. Why would a stuffy-looking chick in a business suit request to sit with five rock stars?

Sed scooted over in the semi-circular booth and patted the empty expanse of forest green vinyl beside him. She tugged her gaze from Brian to look at Sed. Sed’s boy-next-door good looks contrasted his bad-boy, womanizing reputation. She didn’t follow the personal lives of the bands she admired, but even she knew Sed’s rep. His smile, complete with dimples, could ice a cake, which was likely why he covered it so rapidly with a scowl. A quick veil of indifference returned his cool status. Those darling dimples didn’t quite fit his image.

Myrna slid into the booth beside Sed, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt as she settled beside him. Okay, I’m in. Now what?

“Are you some kind of business woman or something?” Sed leaned back to examine her professional attire.

Myrna didn’t mind his twice over. “Or something. Actually, I’m a stuffed-shirt geek. A college professor here at the conference.”

“No, shit?” She recognized the speaker, who sat across from her, as Eric Sticks, the band’s drummer. “If I’d have known college professors were hot, I might have considered an education.”

Myrna laughed. She glanced up at Brian who still leaned against the booth next to Eric’s right shoulder. Her heart gave a painful throb. God, he was gorgeous. “Would you like to sit down, Brian?”

Myrna scooted closer to Sed, her knee settling against his beneath the table. Brian collapsed on the seat beside her, lodging her between two of the sexiest and most talented musicians in the business. She’d died and gone to heaven.Play it cool, Myrna. If you start spazzing out like a fangirl, they’ll tell you to get lost. And she certainly didn’t want that.

Brian leaned forward and rested his forehead on the table with a groan. It took all of Myrna’s concentration not to offer a soothing touch. She knew who he was, but he didn’t know her from Adam. Well, hopefully, he could tell her from Adam, but, uh…

She took a deep breath to collect her scattered thoughts and forced her attention to Eric. She could look at him without getting all giddy, but found she couldn’t stop staring at his insane hairstyle—half-long, a center strip of short spikes, the rest of various lengths and just plain strange. A crimson, finger-thick lock curled around the side of his neck. Rock star hair. She stifled an excited giggle.

“So what do you teach?” Eric took a sip of his beer, his pale blue eyes never leaving her face. Well, maybe he checked out her chest a little, but he mostly kept his gaze above her neck.

Myrna winced at his question and lowered her eyes to the table. Any chance of her earning their respect would evaporate the moment she revealed what subject she taught. “Do I have to say?”

“Come on.”

She sighed heavily. “Human Sexuality.”

Eric sputtered in his beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fuck me.”

“Well, yeah, I guess that is my subject matter,” Myrna said, with a crooked grin.

The guys laughed. Except for Brian. Unmoving, his head still rested on the table in front of him. Had he lost consciousness? Wasted didn’t come close to describing his current condition.

“Is he okay?” Myrna asked.

“Yeah, he’s just a little fucked up,” Eric said.

“He’s a lot fucked up,” said Trey Mills, the band’s rhythm guitarist, who lounged in the booth next to Eric.

“Shut up,” Brian murmured. He turned his head to look up at Myrna. He held one eye closed as he tried to focus on her. She had an inexplicable urge to straighten his tousled, jet-black hair, which fell just below collar-length and stuck out at odd angles all over his head. “What’s your name, Professor Sex?”

She smiled. Maybe he was interested. “Myrna.”

He chuckled. “That’s an old lady’s name.”

Or… maybe he wasn’t. She hoped she hid her disappointment well.

Sed reached behind Myrna and slapped Brian on the back for his insult. Brian didn’t even flinch. He most certainly wasn’t feeling any pain.

Myrna shrugged. “He’s right. I was named after my great grandmother. She qualifies as an old lady.”

Brian turned his head, so his forehead rested against the table again. He swallowed several times. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Eric, take him to the bathroom,” Sed said. “The last thing we need is a table covered in Sinclair puke.”

Eric groaned. “I want to stay and talk to the pretty lady. Nothing but the same boring dudes at this table all night.” Despite his protests, Eric slid from his end of the bench and hauled Brian to his feet.

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” Myrna promised.

“Buy her a drink, Sed. Or, since they’re all on you tonight, buy her two.” Eric looped Brian’s arm around his shoulders and walked his staggering friend toward the bathroom.

Myrna watched them go, her appreciative eyes on Brian’s perfect, black-denim-encased ass.

“Don’t hold it against him, Myr. He’s not usually like this. He just… uh… got out of a relationship,” Sed said.

Trey rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, you might say that.”

“Not sure why this keeps happening to him.” Jace Seymour, the bassist, massaged the silver hoop earring in his earlobe. He was the only blond in the group—bleached, if his dark brows and beard stubble were any indication. The smallest member of the band, he had a James Dean tough guy thing going on. Probably trying to understate his natural cuteness. Myrna just wanted to squeeze him.

“Dude gets dumped more than any guy I know.” Trey just looked damned sexy. Whenever his sultry, bedroom eyes met Myrna’s, a tingle settled at the base of her spine.

“That’s because he’s a fucking retard when it comes to women.” Sed ran a hand over his shorn, black hair. “He falls for these bimbos one right after another. He’ll never learn.”

“Or maybe his problem is that someone keeps fucking things up for him,” Trey said. “Just a thought.”

“That bitch wasn’t worth his time. Brian’s way too good for her,” Sed growled.

Myrna looked from one man to the next. There was something more to this story than they were saying aloud. Or maybe… “Brian’s a hopeless romantic, isn’t he?”

Sed leaned close to her ear. “Shhh. That’s a secret.”

A thrill raced up the side of her neck. She turned her head and found Sed’s nose less than an inch from hers. She could see the fringes of his lashes just behind the mirrored surfaces of his shades. Finding it disconcerting to be stared down by a guy in sunglasses, she reached up and slid his eyewear down his nose. She’d like to think it was better to look him in the eye, but his probing blue-eyed gaze made her heart go pitter pat. He grinned, undoubtedly aware of the affect he had on women.

Sed lifted his arm in the air to signal the cocktail waitress. “What’s your poison, Myrna?”

“Just water for me.”

“Don’t you need something stronger to loosen up a little?” Cocking an eyebrow at her, his eyes scanned her conservative suit.

“Totally unnecessary. I’m always loose.”

“You don’t look loose.” He fingered the top button of her jacket. It just happened to be situated directly between her breasts. This guy was trouble with a capital T.

Must. Avoid. Hot. Vocalist.

“Looks can be deceiving.” She twisted away from him to look up at the waitress and break the contact between their knees.

Sed chuckled. “Somehow, I believe that in your case.” To the waitress, he said, “Two waters, please.”

“Oh, I just need one.”

“The other one is for Brian.”

Myrna flushed. “Of course.”

The waitress set a glass of water before her. Myrna gazed towards the men’s restroom and hoped Brian would be okay. He hadn’t looked well at all. And she’d much rather concentrate on him, instead of Mr. Player here, who was currently rubbing his knuckles against the side of her knee. When his fingers found their way under the hem of her skirt, her eyes widened and she shifted sideways a few more inches. Trey looked safe lounging across from her, sucking on his red lollipop. Maybe she should move to the other side of the table. She lifted her glass of water to her mouth.

Sed squeezed her knee. Myrna choked and reached beneath the table to remove his hand from her leg. Undeterred, he leaned closer. She got the feeling this guy wasn’t used to being rejected.

“Would you like to go upstairs with me?” Sed whispered into her ear, his nose brushing against the side of her neck as he lowered his head.


Can Myrna resist Sedric Leonheart’s allure?

Will she follow Sed upstairs or try to seduce Brian Sinclair, the man she really wants?

Ready for more?

Order Backstage Pass today!

or find it on the shelf at your local bookstore on October 1, 2010.

Additional excerpts of Backstage Pass can be found on my website:

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Posted by on March 3, 2011 in Backstage Pass Excerpts


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