When being seduced by a rock star, only a fool falls in love.
The night Dante Sinclair lured me into his dressing room and gave me my first kiss, I was oblivious to one important fact: all rock stars are spoiled narcissists. I learned my lesson when our failed attempt at a reunion left me humiliated and heartbroken.
Now, Dante is booked into the music retreat I run. Years have passed, so I know he won’t recognise me. He’ll have no idea the man cooking his meals and washing his clothes is the same skinny boy he kissed so long ago. And when he begins to look at me like I’m his new favourite muse, my anonymity will be my only protection against the sensuality of his charms.
Grey. It’s the name I gave to the only boy I ever kissed. He is my favourite memory. The place my mind goes when the expectations of rock stardom threaten to choke me. I barely remember what he looked like, but I’ll never forget the way he made me feel.
When I came to this retreat, my goals were simple: get out of my creative rut and write my new album. But one look into Sean’s eyes is enough to threaten the tenuous control I have over my life. He swears we’ve never met, but there’s a Grey-ness to him that inspires me, even as it makes me ache to satisfy the cravings I’ve denied for so long.
He may not be my Grey—but he’s close enough.