Mackenzie “Kiki” Forbes finds herself in a pickle.
Either become her snarky sister’s nanny or move halfway across the country to work as assistant-to-the-stylist of a country music star. Neither job sounds ideal, although bedazzling cowboy boots may be a hell of a lot more interesting than ironing her brother-in-law’s underwear. But life on the road as the errand coffee girl for a sold-out tour leaves much to be desired. That is until Kiki meets her sinfully sexy new boss’s boss…
Tatum Reed’s career is flying high. He’s up for country music’s Entertainer of the Year and he’s headed out on a nationwide sold-out tour. So why does he feel like it’s all about to implode? His superstar ex-girlfriend seems determined to make his life difficult, his opening act is a handful, and the new girl on his tour, the feisty brunette, is quickly getting under his skin. In this crazy world of showbusiness, Tatum needs to learn who he can trust, but that doesn’t come easily, because the one person who holds all the cards may just throw them down and walk away.
Life in the public eye is never all it’s cracked up to be, which has both Kiki and Tatum questioning what they’re really doing with their careers, and their hearts.

I CAN’T SLEEP because I have a song lyric running through my head, so I get up and grab my pencil, notebook, and guitar. Lex and I usually song-write together, but inspiration’s hit, so I need to get this one on paper. I look over at Kiki snoring softly into her pillow. I smile and cover up her long, tan legs where she’s kicked the covers off. I write, inspired by the lovely muse lying next to me. I wasn’t looking for love, but there you were. I wasn’t wanting much, but you gave it anyway. I wasn’t going to ask you, but you answered the call, I didn’t want to take much, but in the end, you gave it all. Take my hand, take my heart, take my love, Won’t you fall with me? Tear it up, take a piece, what will be, will be. Take my love, just say yes… Won’t you fall with me? Fall with me.

I quietly strum my guitar as the melody plays itself in my head. Kiki stirs a little but doesn’t wake. I write down the notes and add the lyrics, singing softly to the gorgeous girl who has captured my heart. I gaze down at her. How on earth did this woman wrap me so tight around her finger in such little time? I’ve never had these intense feelings for another woman before. I thought I loved Savannah, but it wasn’t love. I can see that clearly now. Nothing compares to my feelings for Kiki. I would do anything for her. I want to protect her, care for her for the rest of my life, have babies with her. These feelings should scare the crap out of me, but they don’t. They excite me. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’ve never been in love before. I’ve been so focused on my career since I left home I never truly gave myself over to someone else. I thought Savannah was it, but I’ve shared more with Kiki in the short time I’ve been with her than the two and a half years I was with Vanny. Huh, what does that say? I never wanted to open up to Savannah and share my dreams and fears with her, but with Kiki, I want her to know everything. I need to break down these walls I’d built up to protect myself over the years. Everyone in this industry wants a piece of you, from the label to the fans, and it leaves you feeling alone and cold. It wears on you, and you start to distrust people because they’ll turn on you in a heartbeat to get what they want. I’m just a means to an end in this industry. I’m not sure how I know, but with every pump of blood that courses through my veins, I innately know I can trust her. I tenderly swipe a lock of her hair, feeling the silkiness of it between my fingers. She stirs and mumbles in her sleep. I smile as I write down a few more notes and lyrics as the bus trundles down the lonely dark highway.

Sarah Bowen’s life is nothing like she thought it’d be ten years ago. She runs a successful lifestyle boutique with her two best friends, she’s the makeup artist to one of country’s hottest bands, and she’s in love with a womanizing heartthrob who doesn’t give her the time of day. After years of pining after Lex Ryan, she decides it’s finally her turn, even if it might ruin everything, she’s worked for…
Lex Ryan is the sexy Irish lead guitarist for the hottest country band in the States. He’s known as a serial dater, a commitment-phobe, a player who prefers one-night stands. His wild heart has zero plans of settling down—not even with the band’s makeup artist, Sarah Bowen. He’s vowed to keep his heart from falling for her. Until the band travels to Ireland where his past suddenly crashes into his present.
They say wild hearts can’t be tamed. They never said they can’t be broken.

The Makeup Artist is the second book in the Coffee Book Series. It’s a standalone novel, but the author suggests reading Coffee Girl first because of returning characters.

     LEX RYAN…WHAT IS there to say? I have the crush of all crushes on him, even though he’s a total playboy. In bathrooms all over the country you will find, “For a good time, call Lex Ryan” written in Sharpie with his actual cell number on it. And I’d bet my savings if you call, he’d probably answer. But dang it, despite his playboy status, I still want him. There’s something moody and mysterious about him that draws me in. I know he’s a total commitment-phobe and yet I want to be the one he’s willing to give up his womanizing ways for. But I also know Lex is the kind of guy that won’t change for anything or anyone. It’s that stubborn Irish in him. I’m aware of all of his issues, yet I’m still drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Maybe Kiki is right, I just need to find a nice boy who will give me the time of day. I yawn just thinking about it. All I’ve dated in the past are nice guys, and they don’t make my heart long for something more like Lex does.

     It doesn’t matter though, because he doesn’t see me that way. He doesn’t see me at all. He’s so incredibly handsome tonight, his Tom Ford gray suit fitting him like a glove. I’ve secretly been keeping tabs on him all throughout the party like a complete loser stalker. Even during the ceremony while my best friends were getting married, all I could think about was Lex and what it would be like if this were our wedding. I’m a terrible friend. I brush away the tear that slides down my cheek and slows down to catch my breath. My heart is galloping like a thousand wild horses racing to the finish. I stop on the path leading back to the party and slump against the wall. I wanted to kill Kiki earlier when she shoved me toward him on the dancefloor. Slow dancing in his incredibly strong and sexy arms made me so nervous and frazzled. I can’t even begin to tell you what song was playing or what we talked about. It took all my concentration not to step on his feet as I worried about moving my uncoordinated legs across the floor. But like always, we were interrupted by some floozy wanting a chance with Lex. And then when he sat down next to me on the rock, my stomach tightened into a ball of knots. He smelled like fresh-cut grass, spice, and man. The pheromones he was putting off were scrambling my brain. I wanted to crawl into his lap and rub my cheek along his day-old scruff. I wanted to run my fingers through his silky dark hair and skim my lips, along his. If he wanted me, I was his. But he doesn’t want me. He wants all the one-night-stand skanks that just want to ride on the Lex Dick Express. I swipe away another tear, frowning as I think back about our conversation on the rock. I’m pretty sure we were having a moment. I actually think he was about to open up to me about why this wedding is making him so tense. It’s the first intimate conversation he and I have ever had…but then kittyslut Katie showed up ruining the moment, and like I always do in uncomfortable situations, I put on a bright smile and ran.

I can’t believe I did it again! I pound my fist against the wall behind me. I feel like such an idiot. I let myself believe that Lex Ryan was interested in me, that he wanted to spend time with me!

    He must have been waiting for Katie that whole time. He was probably trying to drum up some excuse to get me out of there before she arrived. So humiliating. What is my obsession with him anyway? Why can’t I get past it? Clearly, he doesn’t see me in a romantic way. Maybe I need to throw myself at him like all the other women do. Thrust my C cups in his face and wear a miniskirt for a dress. I laugh humorlessly because that’s so not me. Skinny jeans and Converse are more my speed. I just need to forget about him. He’s put me into the friend box and the lid is closed. I push off from the wall and wipe my cheeks dry, grabbing another champagne flute from a passing waiter as I reenter the party, and I quickly down it. TJ waves me over like he’s landing a Boeing jet. “Sarah! SARAH! Your cousin is amazeballs! Heather! Heather! Do the worm again! Oh my god Trish, get it, girlfriend! Sare Bear! Trisha Yearwood is doing the running man! Agh!! I heart her!” I giggle as my cousin Heather does the running man with Trisha on the dancefloor and TJ does the robot with Garth Brooks. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined this moment happening. I’m quickly swept up into TJ’s enthusiasm, doubled over laughing as he tries to teach Maren Morris the sprinkler when I look up in time to see Katie Skankbags return to the party straightening her dress and hair. No sign of Lex. Bile rises in my throat. Kiki is right. This obsession with Lex has to end now. I can’t let myself live like this anymore. I have to find a nice guy who won’t continue to hurt me and make my heart slowly bleed. I have to move on. 

The Social Hour
Due out this August

I pull into a small parking lot next to a brick building that houses a bar called The Social Hour. Huh, did I get the address wrong? I double-check my email and sure enough, this is the address. I grab my purse and lock my car. I take a deep breath and check my silk blouse to make sure Enzo didn’t leave any spit up or gooey marks on it. I roll my shoulders back and pull open the front door. I walk down a concrete hallway with brick walls and see an elevator to my left and the glass doors to the bar on my right. I decide to check with the bar first before going up into an elevator to what could be someone’s private apartment. 

I enter the cool dark entryway and take in the bar. It’s beautiful and fancy if industrial can be fancy. It’s like a modern industrial-chique. Is that even a thing? It should be because this place is amazing. It’s small but cozy with polished concrete floors and exposed brick walls. Behind the shiny bar is a wall of glass door coolers that hold every beer and wine imaginable. The Social Hour is spelled out in metal script across the back wall. To the side of the bar is a door leading to outside stairs and a patio. Wood beams across the ceiling hold steel light fixtures that cast an amber glow. My heels click on the concrete floor as I look around for someone to help me. I nervously fidget with the silk bow of my blouse. I tuck my clutch under my arm and timidly step towards the glossy mahogany bar.


“We’re closed!” A man’s voice bellows from one of the back rooms.

“Oh um, I know. I’m here for the interview?”

I hear a cuss word before a door slams making me jump. This is not what I was expecting. At all. I’m about to turn around and run the hell out of here as fast as I can in four-inch heels when a tall well-built man walks from the back hallway wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He’s wearing, nice dress slacks, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and his shirt unbuttoned where his tie should be. His skin holds a deep golden tan like he just went on a beach vacation- somewhere exotic and expensive because this guy looks like he doesn’t settle for anything less than. 

He looks up at me and I’m speechless. The dim lights in the bar cast shadows over his eyes, so I can’t read them, but his sinful mouth tilts down in a frown as he stares at me. His sharp jaw juts out a little as he sets his hands on his hips in a casual stance that’s anything but casual. His dark chocolate brown hair looks mussed as if he’d been tugging at it. He quickly looks at an expensive-looking watch on his wrist before returning his attention back to me.

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