TAMING THE STORM PDF
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Original Sin is book two in the Alexandra Jones series, the sequel to First Bitten. Alex has run. Leaving everything she knows and loves Nathan, behind. [PDF] Download â† Taming the Storm | by Ã£ Samantha Towle taming the storm the storm series Lyla Summers hates men. Okay, maybe hate is a strong. Samantha Towle - (The Storm 3) - Taming the Storm -(ang) (pdf) - plik ' Dozwolone od lat stu w języku angielskim (i inne) > Julka_15'. Inne dokumenty.
It was a sucker punch because I hate my father. Boyfriend Four dumped me when I refused to have a threesome with him and his best friend. I kid you not. Boyfriend Six—my longest relationship and with a guy I stupidly thought I might love— screwed my brother on the biggest night of my life. That one was the killer, the final nail in my sex coffin. After that, I realized that I only ever seem to be attracted to men with issues.
Basically, he was the sperm donor who helped create me. So, I stay clear of men. Seriously, the closest I get to a man nowadays is sharing a drink with my best friend, Cale.
In my past, I was always a relationship kind of girl—albeit, an unsuccessful one. Casual sex was something I never could do. I tie too many emotions to sex to be able to sleep with a guy and not see him again. Taking relationships off the menu for me also removed the dessert menu, meaning no more sex for Lyla. The ultimate G-spot—finding, mind-blowing O-giving, can-do-everything-a-man-can-do, except cuddle and break my heart, vibrator.
ASBOF is my electronic way to a much-needed orgasm. Of course I need some mental stimulation, so yes, on some occasions, I do visualize a faceless man, or maybe the hot guy who serves my coffee at Starbucks. But I promptly scrub the guy from my mind as soon as me and the O are done.
What did you say? My back stiffens. My vocal was not off. No freaking way. I know my songs. I know this song inside out. Face pricking, I stare down at the Keds on my feet, trying to control my rush of anger. And to hear this criticism from Zane stings badly because I respect his opinion. I love my job. I love singing. I live for it. My whole world. I spent years and years singing in shitty bars and clubs, chasing the dream.
Finally, I hooked that dream and then spent months and months working on the album—seven days a week, day and night, barely sleeping. I was so desperate to perfect it that I thought I might have a nervous breakdown. And today of all days, I could do without hearing this. I feel like I just got an F on my paper from my favorite teacher, and like a child, I want to have a colossal temper tantrum about it. Deep breaths, Lyla. This is Zane Fox. Taking a calming breath, I force nicety into my voice.
Nothing about that was working. Okay, just exactly what the hell has crawled up in his ass and died today? I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it. Thankfully, his voice is a little less acidic. The tone that makes your voice so distinctive, so unique, seems to have disappeared.
So, tell me now, is there anything I need to know before we carry on? She called to let me know that Dex signed with a new band. And that band is based in LA. He moved here a few days ago. To say I feel on edge is putting it mildly. Dex being in New York and me here in LA was working just fine for me. But now knowing that Dex is here in LA has brought that all back in full force.
I mean, if I ran into him, unprepared, that would be a killer. I held it together while Aunt Steph told me. I know she thinks if she knew what the problem was, then she could fix us. There is no fixing things between Dex and me. It was broken the moment he started screwing my boyfriend.
I feel the familiar burn in my chest. Bringing a hand up, I rub at the burn. I get it. Business and personal should never mix. I think my tear ducts dried up when I cried a river over Dex and Chad. I lift my chin and suck it up. I give a quick look to Cale, Sonny, and Van, who are sitting in the studio with Zane. They put on the music for the track we laid down yesterday. Cale, Dex, and I grew up together.
The three of us put Vintage together. Sonny is our drummer. He joined the band when we first started. We put up fliers for auditions, and he was the only one who turned up. Thankfully for us, he rocked. The loss of him in my life will break through, and I will crumble.
Cale gets up from his seat and walks over to me. He stands beside me and takes hold of my hand. I have to bite back the tears I can feel burning up my throat.
A few seconds later, Sonny takes stance beside me, dropping his arm around my shoulder. Dex gets to his feet. I can feel his gaze burning a hole in me. Always have, always will. Cale catches my eye, and he mouths, You okay? Fine, I mouth back before giving him my best smile.
His eyes narrow on me. I look away. Shutting my eyes, I do what Zane said. I draw up all my emotions, the ones that are bothering the crap out of me today, and I channel them into my song.
Singing is the only thing that makes sense to me. Parting my dry lips, I lick them and then ease out the first line of the song. Song done, I open my eyes. It was flawless. I pull the headphones off and step around the mic, expecting to see a full booth, but the only person I find in there is Gray. Where is everyone? I press the intercom button.
Did he hate it? Jesus, I hate the nerves that come with trying to please studio executives. He took a call and sounded all pissed off. Then, he told the guys to go with him to the conference room, and you were to follow straight after you finished.
I can lay the track with that, no problem. Catch you later. I walk the short distance down the hall to the conference room. Three heads lift when I open the door. Zane is standing by the window. His face is devoid of emotion, like always, and his arms are folded across his chest. His tense stance has me instantly worried. I pull out the chair next to Sonny and take a seat. Dina is our manager. She was going to come on tour with us. I have dreamed about this tour happening ever since I picked up my first guitar.
I know TMS Records policy—no tour manager, no tour. A new band on the road with no support is not a good idea with the amount of sharks in this industry.
I swallow down the house-sized brick in my throat. She ruptured her anterior cruciate ligament. He knows the house rules as well as I do. This is as important to him as it is to me. Important to us all. I swallow down. Jake is currently trying to find a replacement manager to go on tour with you.
With relief, I exhale the breath I was holding. We are supposed to leave on tour in a week. One week to find a good tour manager. Most tour managers, especially the good ones, will already be booked up. He stands. Sonny shakes his head. A few minutes ago, you were the one asking him the same goddamn question. I feel the same worry as Sonny. You know, the one you hopped out on before she woke up.
If Sonny brings someone back to the apartment, he has a tendency to duck out before they wake up. Then, I feel bad, and I end up cooking breakfast for the girl. In many ways, my boys are too good-looking for their—and my—own good. But their looks do work awesome in alluring the female fans. Bunch of muts, but I love them like family. Oh, Mut is my term for man slut. Sonny is the worst. They love him, and he lets them.
Cale is the stupid kind of beautiful—as in, it makes women go stupid over him. Perks of the job, he calls it. It was hard not to with his beautiful face and dark brown hair that fell into his chocolate brown eyes.
And Van has the gorgeous brooding rock star down pat. Women flock to him like birds to bread. Van reminds me a lot of Jake Wethers—all tattooed, dark hair, striking blue eyes. This is how it goes with Sonny and me. We banter around the same stuff. I rest my chin on my hand. Then, he looks at Van, who seems amused at our exchange. You were fine before we left for the studio. Then, you took a call, and your mood went to shit. Who called, Ly? Was it him? He calls you every goddamn day. I know because you have that depressing ringtone set for him.
He takes my hands. I know what he meant to you.
To Fix You
I look away from him. She was calling to tell me that…Dex has joined a new band. Moved here a few days back. In LA? His jaw is working angrily. It increased tenfold when Dex betrayed me. And I know Cale is hurting over it, too.
Dex was his oldest friend, his best friend. Cale misses him. He sits up, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his face close to mine. You never made me choose anything. The minute Dex betrayed you, he betrayed me, the band, all of us. He made us choose. And you thinking I should get in touch with him…Jesus Christ. So, are we done here? Cale takes my face in his hands. I got your back, Ly, always.
Lead the way, big bro. Tom Carter.
That Tom Carter? Which I understand because I sound like a broken record right now. Tom is taking my place as your tour manager. But Tom Carter. Total mut. Hits on me every time I see him. He is the epitome of mut. Tom is now your manager, and he will be touring with you for the next six weeks. God help me. Tom is just the bass-playing mut, who will stick his dick in anything that has a pulse and a vagina. He is also the owner of the kick-ass label I work for, the same one your band is signed to.
He trusts Tom, so we trust Tom. And Zane backs him on this. Now, I feel like a total bitch for whining about this. Even worse, Tru was pregnant at the time of the accident. Their baby boy was born early by C-section.
Thankfully, he was fine. I get your concerns. He rates you guys really highly.
He wants the best for you, like I do. Six weeks with Tom as our manager will be… fine. A piece of cake. Each time, I turned him down. Well, this woman did. Especially not Tom, the biggest mut the world has seen.
My virginia is closed for business. Virginia is my nickname for my vajayjay. Sonny will freak. Sonny is already well on his way. Talk to you soon? I wait until the guys are all sitting on the sofa around me before I speak. I take the bottle of beer that Sonny is holding out to me. The anxious tone in his voice is not lost on me. I pop the cap on my beer.
The Storm #3
I take a quick drink and then hold the bottle in my lap. Tipping my head back, I take a bigger drink this time. On tour with us! Chicks, parties…chicks! The man is a fucking legend! Then, he springs to life. We are touring with the best there is! Just think of the stuff he can teach us.
Cale grins. He high-fives Cale at the same time. I honestly have no issue with the guys having fun. They have tons of fun and sleep with plenty of women. I know his rep. This is going to be a disaster. I start chugging back on my beer, quickly emptying it, and I reach for another. I turn my face to him and try to force a smile. His rep. Cale puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side.
Nothing will change. He grins. Give me some credit. It quickly fades. My eyes dip to the floor. I look up, meeting his warm gaze. Tom will probably make groupie night mandatory or something. He starts to laugh. I shove him on the shoulder. He brings my face toward him. Seriously, what is going to be awesome about touring with the mut of rock, who has hit on me every time I see him?
I shake my head, taking in my surroundings. Today is the day we set off on tour. Beyond amazing. Laid out before me is a living area, complete with a leather seating area and a TV fixed on the wall. That should keep the boys entertained. The kitchen has a wall-fitted unit with a built-in range and oven, a small refrigerator, and a microwave. I follow Cale down the hall to where Sonny and Van are, and I see the bathroom on the right.
Shower, no bath. Two pairs of unamused eyes stare at him. How does he come up with this shit? I turn, looking at him, and I smile.
He smiles back. Van really does have the best smile. His whole face lights up with it. Such a way with words. What was I saying about his nice smile? How about this? I have the bedroom, and when one of you scores, you can have the room for as long as you need it, but you have to change the sheets. I shrug.
Then, I feel my cell vibrate against my butt. I pull it out. Unknown number. I hesitate, worried. Everything has been arranged through Zane or Dina, so I guess it could be him. Decision made, I connect the call as I start walking back through the bus. My voice has gone squeaky. I clear my throat. Jake knows. My hand starts to sweat around my phone. I quickly make my way off the bus and practically run down the side to the back, putting distance between me and the people loading up the tour buses.
I tend to keep who my father is and who my mother was private. People treat me differently when they find out who my parents are. Especially my father. Rally Brochstein, owner of Rally Records. The Mighty Storm is one of them. The label that TMS walked away from. I guess you can see where this is going. And this? My band signing with TMS Records. I start to feel a little sick. I know how you feel about Rally. I feel the same. I take that as a good sign.
It actually suits him. Then, he exhales. I know how he works. I also know a little something about wanting to hide your past. Thing is, when you hide stuff, especially in this business, it has a tendency to come out and bite you in the ass.
His reputation in the music business is notorious. Jake Wethers is one of the few people who has ever gone up against my father and walked away clean. Rally is a shark, and he takes no prisoners. Nothing and no one gets in his way. That was when he started Rally Records, and it got big, fast. Just not fast enough for TMS. TMS was the first act to sign with them.
Apparently, Jake and Rally had a difficult relationship, which I can understand because my father is not an easy man to get along with.
I signed with TMS Records because you care about your acts. Bye, bye, tour bus. It was nice while it lasted. Have I said how much I hate my father? The guys are going to be gutted. I know Jake is a hard ass, and he hates Rally, possibly as much as I do, but this is hassle he could do without. I told Rally he could go fuck himself.
I could kiss Jake Wethers right now. No one tells me how to run my business. You say your relationship with him is non-existent. Was that his choice or yours? Now, mine. You just concentrate on the tour. But I need you to tell me now if there is anything else I need to know. My mom was the best. I hear a female voice in the background.
Good luck with the tour. Relay that message to the rest of the band. Nothing is going to change your position with TMS Records, no matter what he says or does. Just make this album and tour score big.
Nodding, I smile. Sounds of cheering and loud laughter. All thoughts of my conversation with Jake left behind, my feet carry me quickly back to the bus. I jog up the stairs, turn into the galley, and halt in my tracks at the sight before me, my breath leaving me in a rush. His huge size eats up the small space of the bus. His muscular arms are sleeved in tattoos. What is he doing here? I have the sudden urge to walk over there and slap Cale upside the head.
Tom looks over his shoulder at me. His intense jade green eyes hit mine, sending an involuntary heat to travel through my body. His gaze drifts slowly down my body and then climbs back up. My stomach clenches. Virginia sparks to life. Oh God. I hate the way my body reacts to Tom Carter. Every single time I see him, my virginia lights up like gasoline on a spark.
In fact, my body likes Tom—a lot.
Tom is an arrogant, sex-crazed mut, whom I want nothing to do with. Only…Tom just happens to be a hot, arrogant, sex-crazed mut. I really hate that. Unkempt but hot. Lord, help me. His eyes flicker down to my chest. He looks cute in a hot, sexy way. Hot, sexy cute? What the hell, Lyla? Men are not cute, especially not men like Tom Carter. Men like him are dangerous to women like me.
And look at him, just openly staring at my chest. Total pervert. I cross my arms over my girls and lift my chin. His eyes come back to mine, and that smirk is still on his face. Keep it pleasant and business-like. He means that in a figurative sense right? No way am I losing to him. Sonny breaks the silence. I will not lose this game. What is it? Then, silence hits as the debris from his dirty ear bomb scatters slowly to the floor, my brain desperately trying to come to terms with what I just heard.
Tom is staying here? Closing my eyes on a blink, I shake my head, trying to clear out his words. How awesome is that? Van and Cale are smiling. Tom is still staring at me. Only this time, his look is curious.
I blink away with my hands on my hips, trying to figure this out in my head. Tom is going to be living here on our bus for the duration of the tour? Then, my eyes land on an oversized gym bag sitting on the kitchen table. This is going to be a complete disaster. I did think this tour bus was way too nice to be ours. I was expecting a total shithole for our first tour bus, not this awesome setup.
Taming the Storm (The Storm, #3)
I close my eyes on a long blink and then look back to them. And say something nice. I do try to say something nice. Really, I do. I quickly think up lots of nice things to say —well, mainly the word yes. It makes my face sting. I feel like a bitch.
I am a bitch. Avoiding the eyes of the guys, I swivel on my heel and follow Tom in his angry path. He just keeps on walking. So, I follow, my gut churning the whole time. This day is really starting off badly.
Tom stops about fifty feet from the bus and turns to me. I halt in my stride, nearly tripping in doing so. His body is tense. He folds his arms over his chest, staring down at me. I look up at his face. He seems even taller out here. He lets out a sigh and scratches his beard. History would involve something happening between us. My arms fold over my chest, my eyes narrowing.
Then, he shakes his head. I have an idea of what he was going to say, and if he did, that would have set off an explosion of epic proportions.
My hands go to my hips. He sighs. He smirks down at me. I was a bitch to him. Hit me with it. Does he have a mental problem? He scratches his cheek and steps up in my space in one swift move. A little startled and a lot fired-up at his nearness, I blink up at him. He brings his head down, his mouth close to my ear.
The smell of his clean, crisp aftershave is befuddling my brain along with my bra and panties. Then, I kick some female sense into myself. Tom straightens up, and he is now looking down at me, his eyes burning into mine.
Tilting my head back, I let out a condescending laugh. Too far maybe? Like I care. He steps back. I exhale. I hit on you ages ago.
Get the hell over it. Just try to think of me as your new manager, not as the hot guy who hit on you an eon ago. Oh my God! The guy is an egomaniac! What other reason could there be? This is a real belly-aching laugh. I have to bend over and rest my hands against my thighs just to try to catch my breath. When I straighten up, a less-than-amused Tom is scowling down at me. I wipe the tears from my eyes. I place my hands on my hips. Mut actually stands for man slut.
Then, he throws his head back and roars out a laugh. And it hits me in all the right places. I have to bite my lip to stop from laughing. His eyes, filled with humor, meet mine. He nods his head, grinning. Relaxing, I smile. The shock of electricity I feel at his touch nearly knocks me on my ass. He feels it, too.
I know he does from the slack in his jaw and surprise in his eyes. His grip tightens around my hand.
Taming the Storm
Then, his eyes flicker to my mouth. I lick my lips, feeling suddenly parched. I can feel him moving toward me. Or is that me moving toward him? Then, it hits me. I snatch my hand from his. I turn and start walking back to the bus. What the hell was that? Maybe this is what no sex is doing to my body. It goes into a mad frenzy at the first sign of the Y chromosome.
I love cartoons. I collect cartoon T-shirts. I might be in a rock band, but I never said I was cool. I dressed for comfort today. I never expected to see Tom, not that it matters how I dress around him. And Firecracker? I turn around. Pet names are a deal- breaker. Because, really, there are no deal-breakers here. Yep, I totally feel played right now, but I have no clue as to what the game is.
Henry starts up the engine. The bus rumbles to life beneath my feet as the doors hiss and close behind me.
I look over to where Tom is standing, talking with the guys. My stomach twists in two entirely confusing, different knots. His ego is big enough without me contributing to it. Good to know there are some decent men out there. After my chat with Henry, I go to take a shower. The guys are already on the PlayStation. Tom is on his cell, sitting at the kitchen table and having a quiet conversation.
Then, I head to the bedroom and get dressed in my favorite ripped jeans and a T-shirt. I sit at the desk, my now makeshift dressing table, and sans makeup, I fix my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head. Cale comes in and closes the door behind him. He jumps on the bed and sprawls out flat on his back. I finish tying up my hair and turn in my chair to face him. I twist in my seat and bring my knees up with my feet resting on the edge of the stool.
I hug my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. The first time he tried it, I turned him down. And has he gotten the message? We talked. I said yes. Aside from being able to take care of myself, Tom is a lot bigger than Cale. He lets out an admiring laugh. I bet that was a massive hit to his ego.
He grabs my foot and yanks it, making me laugh.
Most women will just lie down and spread their legs for him. This is what I mean. He already saw you as a challenge because you knocked him back the first time, so he tried again. It was probably worse than the first. Guys like Tom are not used to rejection.
He gave up. Anyway, Tom has got way too many other women running after him to bother himself with little ole me. He affectionately kisses the top of my head. He chucks my chin. That phone call earlier—it was Jake. He knows that Rally is my dad. Rally called him.
He returns my smile. I follow him through. Cale is a nightmare in the kitchen. He makes more of a mess than imaginable, and he gets in my way. No sign of Tom. Cale sits with the guys. They all shout noises of love for me.
Shaking my head, smiling, I hear a door open behind me, and I see a freshly showered Tom emerging from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel. My mouth actually starts to water. Skin still wet, rivulets of water trickle down his tattooed chest. Of course, I knew he had tattoos. Both of his arms are sleeved, but he also has them on his chest and stomach, too.
TMS is written in large script on his left pec. And what an amazing pec it is. More script is under his pec, just above that amazing six-pack of his—Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow may never be. I feel a flash of emotion from those words—that is, until I reach the top of his towel. My attention is taken again. My eyes dart to his. I was totally checking him out, and he knows that I was checking him out.
Crappity crappola. My guard is back up, and I ignore the heat I feel in my cheeks. My bad. He wanted you to hear it. Just ignore it. I take a seat on the pew up front.
The place is empty. Thank fuck. I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs, and clasp my hands together. You need to save her. I scrub my hands over my face. I ask for something, and I give in return, right? You might realize what a bastard I am. I treat people like shit—mainly wo- men. I use them like inanimate objects made for me to stick my dick in. I have a shit temper. Cross one more off your shitlist.
No more fucking random women in inappropriate places, like when I screwed that nurse in the medical supplies closet after I visited with the sick kids. No threesomes or foursomes or orgies. I swear, I will only have sex with a woman if she really means something to me. I break out in a cold sweat at the thought.
I wipe my brow and take a deep breath. I saw it in his eyes. The voice in my ears halts my singing. I tilt my head to the side, looking around the huge microphone perched in front of my face to see through the glass. Have been for the past ten months. All of the important men in my life, bar- ring a few, have let me down—hugely. Boyfriend One cheated on me with the only close female friend I ever had.
Boyfriend Two stole money from me. Boyfriend Three was an aspiring singer, whom I found out was only dating me be- cause he knew who my father was.
I over- heard him telling his friends. It was a sucker punch because I hate my father. Boyfriend Four dumped me when I re- fused to have a threesome with him and his best friend. I kid you not.
That one was the killer, the final nail in my sex coffin. After that, I realized that I only ever seem to be attracted to men with issues. Basically, he was the sperm donor who helped create me. So, I stay clear of men. Seriously, the closest I get to a man nowadays is sharing a drink with my best friend, Cale.
In my past, I was always a relationship kind of girl—albeit, an unsuccessful one. Casual sex was something I never could do. Taking relationships off the menu for me also removed the dessert menu, meaning no more sex for Lyla. The ultimate G-spot—finding, mind- blowing O-giving, can-do-everything-a-man- can-do, except cuddle and break my heart, vibrator. ASBOF is my electronic way to a much- needed orgasm. But I promptly scrub the guy from my mind as soon as me and the O are done.
What did you say? My back stiffens. My vocal was not off. No freaking way. I know this song inside out. Face pricking, I stare down at the Keds on my feet, trying to control my rush of anger. And to hear this criticism from Zane stings badly because I respect his opinion. I love my job. I love singing.
I live for it. My whole world. I spent years and years singing in shitty bars and clubs, chasing the dream. Finally, I hooked that dream and then spent months and months working on the album—seven days a week, day and night, barely sleeping. I was so desperate to perfect it that I thought I might have a nervous breakdown. And today of all days, I could do without hearing this. I feel like I just got an F on my paper from my favorite teacher, and like a child, I want to have a colossal temper tantrum about it.
Deep breaths, Lyla. This is Zane Fox. Taking a calming breath, I force nicety in- to my voice. Nothing about that was working. Okay, just exactly what the hell has crawled up in his ass and died today? I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it. Thankfully, his voice is a little less acidic. The tone that makes your voice so distinctive, so unique, seems to have dis- appeared. So, tell me now, is there anything I need to know before we carry on? She called to let me know that Dex signed with a new band.
And that band is based in LA. He moved here a few days ago. To say I feel on edge is putting it mildly. Dex being in New York and me here in LA was working just fine for me. But now knowing that Dex is here in LA has brought that all back in full force.
I mean, if I ran into him, unprepared, that would be a killer. I held it together while Aunt Steph told me. I know she thinks if she knew what the problem was, then she could fix us. There is no fixing things between Dex and me. It was broken the moment he star- ted screwing my boyfriend. I feel the familiar burn in my chest. Bringing a hand up, I rub at the burn. I get it.They'll be together for weeks for the band tour. Every part of me is turned on by his dirty words. A desire to help and empower others between community contributors in technology began to grow in Now he has to change.
The h was whiny and made everything about herself. There was an obvious path that she could have taken with this but she didn't and I was thrilled for that!! No Dex. No relationship Lyla annoyed me a bit in this book, but I understood her reasons for trying to stay away from men.
Cale takes my face in his hands.