by: Julie Capulet
Series: Music City Lovers
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 9, 2021
Publisher: Julie Capulet
Amazon | Paperback | Goodreads
“All I wished for was to experience that spark you read about, just once. What I wasn’t expecting was the Fourth of July and heaven on earth all rolled into one.” ~ Stella
Bass player Kade Tucker is known as the Magic Man, and not only for his riffs. After breaking off a disastrous relationship, he swears off women. Only problem is, five minutes later, he might have just met the love of his life.
Stella Bell has always done what’s expected of her. Until a secret letter and an unexpected proposal on the same day prove to be her breaking point. For once in her life, she’s going to do something for herself. As fate would have it, that means taking a spur of the moment trip to Nashville.
A hopeless romantic, Stella has been hiding her true self for far too long. And when a gorgeous, mysterious stranger rescues her from a torrential downpour, she decides to go with it. The hot, dreamy Kade Tucker proceeds to enlighten Stella in every possible way, until she begins to realize that some dreams really can come true.
But will Kade’s twisted ex and Stella’s family secrets – and a very accidental pregnancy –get in the way of their HEA? Or is this a star-crossed match made in Music City heaven?
Nashville Dreams is a super-sexy standalone rock star romance starring a hot alpha musician and a sweet & sassy dreamer who’s the one he always knew was out there somewhere. Now that he’s found her, he has no intention of letting any one of her dreams go unanswered.
The rain is really coming down now.
I’m about to turn the corner when I hear something.
It’s a girl. “Hello?” she says. “Open the door. Come on. Please.” Her back is to me but I can see that she’s soaked to the skin. She’s pressing an intercom button by the door. “Hello?” She holds the button down for a few seconds, then gives up. “I can’t believe this.”
I stop walking. As she turns to look at me, I can see that she’s crying.
Not again.
But I slide my sunglasses up. To get a better look.
She’s cute, in a bedraggled, waiflike way. Her eyes are the brightest color green I’ve ever seen. Her hair is long and wet, hanging straight until it reaches past her shoulders, where it coils into loose, cheerful ringlets. Light smudges around her eyes give her a sultry look, and it’s a sexiness she’s completely unaware of. The wetness of her long eyelashes has created starburst patterns, giving her face a sweet, hot-mess glamour. Her lips are full and pink, perfectly-shaped, with a wet plumpness that hits me right where I live. At the sight of her soft mouth, without warning, my cock thickens. Fuck. Lately I’ve been so mired in my own unhappiness that I’ve been uncharacteristically … calm. But my calmness has suddenly and jarringly faded out. The shape of her rain-wet lips reawakens a revved-up lust in me that was—until right this second—trapped under the heavy weight of my own discontent.
I will myself not to get a raging fucking hard-on, but the tidal wave of relief and straight-to-the-gut bedazzlement she’s hitting me with is the most forceful thing that’s happened to me in a long time. Or maybe ever.
I’m alive, she’s reminding me. I’m hot and I’m overflowing with hunger and cravings that’ll break every rule and ignite the kind of pleasure you’ll never recover from.
Damn.
She’s achingly pretty.
It’s a different kind of beauty than the one I’ve been closest to lately, which was hardened by anger or meanness or spite.
This girl has none of that pettiness behind her eyes, and the difference is sort of fierce and luminous. There’s a purity to her expression that I feel somewhere in the middle of my chest. She’s fucking gorgeous, cute but also sexy as hell. And she’s kind. You can read that about her. She’s quirky and empathetic, with a fun, eccentric edge. I don’t know how I get all that with one glance but I do. There’s an openness to her face that’s riveting me.
“Are you all right?” I ask her, though clearly she isn’t.
“I’m fine.” She’s wary. She’s obviously not from around here. Her coat is open at the front, and her wet clothes are citified and preppy, with a twist. You get the feeling she’s a free-spirit confined by the invisible cage of family expectations or society’s rules. She studies my look for a few seconds, and her wariness drifts. She notices my height, my build, my face. I’m rough-looking but there’s something trustworthy about my eyes. I’ve been told this more than once and maybe she’s tuning into that same vibe. “This is supposed to be my Airbnb. But they’re not answering and the door is locked. It’s just the cherry on top of what has been ... a week. Do you happen to know of any hotels nearby?”
I think about recommending one of the many hotels within easy walking distance.
I’ve sworn off women, I remind myself. I’m taking a much-needed break. But I’m not quite ready to disengage from her layered, bright-eyed glow. She’s fascinating me with all the different facets of her gorgeousness. The glittery emerald eyes that are so green they’re surreal-looking, like she’s half sea nymph or she just rode in from Atlantis on her unicorn. The sweep of her eyelashes. The cheekbones, with the slightest little hollows underneath, where a dimple quirks. Her skin is sun-kissed and healthy-looking, like she’s been hanging out on a Hawaiian beach all day instead of here in the cold, wintery rain. The three tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose are shaped like a golden C chord. “I’m heading to a bar right around this corner for a drink,” I hear myself saying. “We could get you out of the rain and you could call somewhere to see what’s available.”
I’m about to turn the corner when I hear something.
It’s a girl. “Hello?” she says. “Open the door. Come on. Please.” Her back is to me but I can see that she’s soaked to the skin. She’s pressing an intercom button by the door. “Hello?” She holds the button down for a few seconds, then gives up. “I can’t believe this.”
I stop walking. As she turns to look at me, I can see that she’s crying.
Not again.
But I slide my sunglasses up. To get a better look.
She’s cute, in a bedraggled, waiflike way. Her eyes are the brightest color green I’ve ever seen. Her hair is long and wet, hanging straight until it reaches past her shoulders, where it coils into loose, cheerful ringlets. Light smudges around her eyes give her a sultry look, and it’s a sexiness she’s completely unaware of. The wetness of her long eyelashes has created starburst patterns, giving her face a sweet, hot-mess glamour. Her lips are full and pink, perfectly-shaped, with a wet plumpness that hits me right where I live. At the sight of her soft mouth, without warning, my cock thickens. Fuck. Lately I’ve been so mired in my own unhappiness that I’ve been uncharacteristically … calm. But my calmness has suddenly and jarringly faded out. The shape of her rain-wet lips reawakens a revved-up lust in me that was—until right this second—trapped under the heavy weight of my own discontent.
I will myself not to get a raging fucking hard-on, but the tidal wave of relief and straight-to-the-gut bedazzlement she’s hitting me with is the most forceful thing that’s happened to me in a long time. Or maybe ever.
I’m alive, she’s reminding me. I’m hot and I’m overflowing with hunger and cravings that’ll break every rule and ignite the kind of pleasure you’ll never recover from.
Damn.
She’s achingly pretty.
It’s a different kind of beauty than the one I’ve been closest to lately, which was hardened by anger or meanness or spite.
This girl has none of that pettiness behind her eyes, and the difference is sort of fierce and luminous. There’s a purity to her expression that I feel somewhere in the middle of my chest. She’s fucking gorgeous, cute but also sexy as hell. And she’s kind. You can read that about her. She’s quirky and empathetic, with a fun, eccentric edge. I don’t know how I get all that with one glance but I do. There’s an openness to her face that’s riveting me.
“Are you all right?” I ask her, though clearly she isn’t.
“I’m fine.” She’s wary. She’s obviously not from around here. Her coat is open at the front, and her wet clothes are citified and preppy, with a twist. You get the feeling she’s a free-spirit confined by the invisible cage of family expectations or society’s rules. She studies my look for a few seconds, and her wariness drifts. She notices my height, my build, my face. I’m rough-looking but there’s something trustworthy about my eyes. I’ve been told this more than once and maybe she’s tuning into that same vibe. “This is supposed to be my Airbnb. But they’re not answering and the door is locked. It’s just the cherry on top of what has been ... a week. Do you happen to know of any hotels nearby?”
I think about recommending one of the many hotels within easy walking distance.
I’ve sworn off women, I remind myself. I’m taking a much-needed break. But I’m not quite ready to disengage from her layered, bright-eyed glow. She’s fascinating me with all the different facets of her gorgeousness. The glittery emerald eyes that are so green they’re surreal-looking, like she’s half sea nymph or she just rode in from Atlantis on her unicorn. The sweep of her eyelashes. The cheekbones, with the slightest little hollows underneath, where a dimple quirks. Her skin is sun-kissed and healthy-looking, like she’s been hanging out on a Hawaiian beach all day instead of here in the cold, wintery rain. The three tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose are shaped like a golden C chord. “I’m heading to a bar right around this corner for a drink,” I hear myself saying. “We could get you out of the rain and you could call somewhere to see what’s available.”
Purchase Nashville Dreams from:
The Music City Series:
The Music City Series is a spin-off of the McCade Brothers Series:
Places to find Julie Capulet:
Wow! I am going to need this book.
ReplyDeleteThis book was so good! I'll have my review up next week. Before the excerpt posted, you see Kade break up with his ex. Needless to say, it was really really bad. Kade's a sweetheart romantic, which I didn't see coming.
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