Title: Twisted
Authors: Cari Quinn and Taryn Elliott
Series: Lost in Oblivion #2
Publication date: December 2nd 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
He’s always saved her. Now she’s going to return the favor…
Gray Duffy never thought he’d end up as the co-lead guitarist of Oblivion, one of the hottest rock bands in the country. Even better? He’s sharing the experience with his best friend, Jazz. Since the day she’d showed up as his family’s new foster kid, Gray has protected her. Loved her. And not just platonically either. After all these years of wanting her in his bed, he still doesn’t know what it would be like to have her mouth on his.
Except for that one time. The time he’d shared her with Nick. The best worst night of his life.
Now they’re living their dream. They’re making music together and spending every waking moment trapped in tight quarters. With success at their fingertips, the time is right for him to finally make his move toward the woman he needs.
He just never figured he would lose control. Or that she would find out.
They’ve loved each other through everything. But what if this time love just isn’t enough?
Curves. So many curves. Jazz was like a living G-clef made out of flesh and flawless diamond-crushed skin. The ruby red tips of her breasts peeked out from beneath the waves of her white-blonde hair. Thanks to the spill of light from the window, he would see that the same flushed bloomed between her legs, beyond enticing. It would be so easy to move forward and take. To just drown himself in her until he couldn’t remember anymore why this was wrong.
“Jazz,” Gray breathed, shutting his eyes to block out the torch-light of her beauty in front of him. He couldn’t breathe through his want. Couldn’t think through the haze of his need. And his love.
He fucking loved her, and he’d fight not to do this with every fiber of his being. She deserved more than a strung-out bastard who’d turned to pot because he couldn’t get ahold of more coke. For fuck’s sake, even his dealer wouldn’t return his calls.
Now she was here, and he couldn’t get high enough not to feel each of the knives carving him up inside.
“Gray,” she said, equally soft. He didn’t open his eyes but her voice crept closer. “Look at me.”
“No.” The word burst from him on an exhale. “No.”
Her hand touched his bare chest and he jolted as if she’d set off a stick of dynamite. Her chuckle rubbed over his nerve endings, sandpaper and silk, and he struggled to hold back a shudder. Only the steel beam he’d shoved in his spine held him upright.
“Back when I used to get high, it’d lower my inhibitions,” she continued. “It made me excited. I know it’s supposed to relax you, but it had a different effect on me.”
He focused on each of her words on its own, so he couldn’t take them all together and feel their impact. He couldn’t let her do this. The man she was trying to seduce might’ve been worthy of her a year ago. He hadn’t believed it fully then either but he knew without doubt that he wasn’t now.
“As if you ever had inhibitions,” he muttered, unable to summon the strength to raise his voice. All his blood had rerouted to his cock. All his air was fueling his starving cells. He could only not inhale for so long. But if he did, he’d smell her again, watermelon and sugar, and he’d be finished.
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I’ve wanted you for years. And I haven’t done one damn thing to let you know.” She started circling him, her body brushing against his. Hip to thigh, thigh to ass. Her fingers trailed from his chest to his arm to his back, sensual feathers of sensation that made his balls clench so tight he feared any movement would send him over the edge. “But I will tonight.”
He gritted his teeth. “You can’t. You don’t know me anymore. You don’t understand what you’re getting into.”
That made her stop. Her fingers pressed into his lower back as she processed his words.
Please, make them be enough.
She completed her loop around him and hooked her fingers in the front of his jeans. He groaned at the slide of skin on skin. He heard her inhale before the wisps of her breath kissed his mouth. “So show me.”
***Hope you enjoy this deleted scene that didn’t make it into the final manuscript of TWISTED!***
Gray reclined in his seat, kicking out his legs as far as he could in the SUV’s back seat. It was one of those monster, tricked out ones like he still drove occasionally for Elite Transport, though that was mostly out of a sense of loyalty than anything else. It wasn’t like he needed the money anymore.
Or the access to blow.
As one of the co-lead guitarists of Oblivion, one of the biggest up-and-coming bands around—according to their press kit—he could get anything he wanted pretty much as soon as the thought occurred. Drugs, expensive alcohol, cheap girls. Those in particular were everywhere. A snap of a finger and he could have two in his lap.
Well, not right now. He was crammed in with his band, their manager and their driver in an Escalade zooming up Sepulveda Boulevard. There wasn’t any room in here for women.
He cast a quick glance to his right to their drummer. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest as she bobbed her head to the music coming through her headphones. Aqua and sapphire blue striped hair waved down her back in time with her movements and sparkling bangle bracelets caught the passing sunlight every time she tapped her fingers against her thigh.
That particular woman didn’t count.
Even when she counted for too much.
He dragged his jacket over his face and tried to block out the voices around him. Too many voices. Before the past year, it had been a long time since he’d been in the middle of chaos, and now it was his daily reality.
Oblivion was on its way to another media thing at some big ass radio station in LA. That meant a couple of hours of standing around, waiting for their turn. Questions, photos, lots of acting fake. Maybe if he was lucky he’d get to strum his guitar on command and talk about the new single that was about to drop. Anything was better than muttering about his “songwriting process” and “if it was true what they said about guitarists in rock bands.” That usually meant some lewd joke about how fast he could get a woman off, which he’d answer with a cocky laugh while pretending he wasn’t mentally stabbing the deejay.
He loved music. It had saved him, was still saving him every goddamn day. What he didn’t love? The press. Talking too much. Anything that wasn’t, yanno, actually playing his freaking songs.
Smothering a yawn from under his jacket, he turned his cheek and tried to get a few minutes sleep. He’d been blessed with the ability to drop off anywhere anytime and that skill had come in very handy during their weeks on the road. When he wanted to check out, nothing stopped him.
Not even the song he’d written for Jazz playing on the radio for the first time.
He went still, barely breathing as the first frenetic notes of “Twisted” came out of the speakers. Everyone was talking so loudly that they didn’t hear it at first. Simon yelled something about needing a hamburger, and Deak tried to calm him down with promises to stop at a fast food place soon. Nick interjected a comment about Simon loving meat, especially the wet, pink kind. Jazz, happily oblivious, sung along to Alanis Morisette on her headphones.
And layered beneath it all played the words Gray had written the night he’d watched Jazz fuck another guy.
Everything I do, it’s for you. You don’t see it. Don’t feel it. I’m just the picture on the wall. The man you call. Maybe it’s your fault. Maybe it’s mine.
We got it twisted.
So twisted.
The shouts turned to silence, followed by loud whoops of laughter and cheers.
Hidden under his jacket, Gray groaned. He’d known this day would come—the day when the whole world got to hear him pour his heart out to the woman he’d loved since he was sixteen.
He just hadn’t been ready.
Would never be ready.
Gray reclined in his seat, kicking out his legs as far as he could in the SUV’s back seat. It was one of those monster, tricked out ones like he still drove occasionally for Elite Transport, though that was mostly out of a sense of loyalty than anything else. It wasn’t like he needed the money anymore.
Or the access to blow.
As one of the co-lead guitarists of Oblivion, one of the biggest up-and-coming bands around—according to their press kit—he could get anything he wanted pretty much as soon as the thought occurred. Drugs, expensive alcohol, cheap girls. Those in particular were everywhere. A snap of a finger and he could have two in his lap.
Well, not right now. He was crammed in with his band, their manager and their driver in an Escalade zooming up Sepulveda Boulevard. There wasn’t any room in here for women.
He cast a quick glance to his right to their drummer. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest as she bobbed her head to the music coming through her headphones. Aqua and sapphire blue striped hair waved down her back in time with her movements and sparkling bangle bracelets caught the passing sunlight every time she tapped her fingers against her thigh.
That particular woman didn’t count.
Even when she counted for too much.
He dragged his jacket over his face and tried to block out the voices around him. Too many voices. Before the past year, it had been a long time since he’d been in the middle of chaos, and now it was his daily reality.
Oblivion was on its way to another media thing at some big ass radio station in LA. That meant a couple of hours of standing around, waiting for their turn. Questions, photos, lots of acting fake. Maybe if he was lucky he’d get to strum his guitar on command and talk about the new single that was about to drop. Anything was better than muttering about his “songwriting process” and “if it was true what they said about guitarists in rock bands.” That usually meant some lewd joke about how fast he could get a woman off, which he’d answer with a cocky laugh while pretending he wasn’t mentally stabbing the deejay.
He loved music. It had saved him, was still saving him every goddamn day. What he didn’t love? The press. Talking too much. Anything that wasn’t, yanno, actually playing his freaking songs.
Smothering a yawn from under his jacket, he turned his cheek and tried to get a few minutes sleep. He’d been blessed with the ability to drop off anywhere anytime and that skill had come in very handy during their weeks on the road. When he wanted to check out, nothing stopped him.
Not even the song he’d written for Jazz playing on the radio for the first time.
He went still, barely breathing as the first frenetic notes of “Twisted” came out of the speakers. Everyone was talking so loudly that they didn’t hear it at first. Simon yelled something about needing a hamburger, and Deak tried to calm him down with promises to stop at a fast food place soon. Nick interjected a comment about Simon loving meat, especially the wet, pink kind. Jazz, happily oblivious, sung along to Alanis Morisette on her headphones.
And layered beneath it all played the words Gray had written the night he’d watched Jazz fuck another guy.
Everything I do, it’s for you. You don’t see it. Don’t feel it. I’m just the picture on the wall. The man you call. Maybe it’s your fault. Maybe it’s mine.
We got it twisted.
So twisted.
The shouts turned to silence, followed by loud whoops of laughter and cheers.
Hidden under his jacket, Gray groaned. He’d known this day would come—the day when the whole world got to hear him pour his heart out to the woman he’d loved since he was sixteen.
He just hadn’t been ready.
Would never be ready.
Hi everyone! Thanks so much for stopping in to let me talk a little bit about TWISTED. I’m Taryn Elliott and I co-write the Lost in Oblivion series with Cari Quinn. We started this crazy idea thanks to our mutual obsession with music. We both came up with individual ideas for musicians and decided…hmmm. Well, that’s stupid. We work well together already as critique partners. Oh, and we’re best friends.
Why aren’t we doing a project together again?
Now the danger, of course, is jumping into bed with your best friend. In our case…trust and being co-chairs of our mutual admiration society keeps us pretty happy. That and we have the truly eerie ability to read each other’s mind. I kid you not—it could be a party trick at this point. It’s a little crazy.
There’s a lot of different ways to do the co-authoring thing. Our process?
We both wanted to make music the actual focus of the series.
No, really. Music.
I know…this is a little shocking, but there are many rock star romances out there that barely touch on the actual music making. AND we wanted it to be a bit grittier than what we’ve seen out there in our e-readers.
With that in mind we make a loose outline of where we want to go with the series. And seriously, I do mean loose. Holy change of heading, Batman! Boy do we throw monkey wrenches in our stories! But instead of arguing about huge changes, or plots that run off the rails…we simply reassess and find that the story is actually better for it in the long run.
The first book, SEDUCED, we wrote together. That book was a beast of a different color in all ways. She was the character of Nick Crandall and I was Simon Kagan. We alternated chapters and stayed strictly in our own character’s point of view. That worked pretty well, but the alternating chapters kind of stilted our writing a little bit. Oh and the introduction novel became a whole different kind of love story. It wasn’t two characters falling in love—it was a band forming, or…for all intents and purposes…falling in love.
After we were finished with that book we knew we needed to focus on the relationships we’d established in SEDUCED. So we decided to take on the full novels and alternate writing that way.
I wrote ROCKED – Harper Pruitt and Deacon McCoy’s story this past April.
Cari wrote TWISTED – Jazz Edwards & Grayson Duffy’s story which comes out December 2nd.
I will take over again and write DESTROYED this upcoming spring – Simon Kagan & Margo Reece’s story.
Then Cari will bookend the series with SHATTERED next winter –Nick Crandall & Lila Shawcross’s love story.
In between, we also write novellas because we juuuuust can’t let go of our characters. At this point, you’d think we were COMPLETELY sick of our characters. 400 pages? Nahhh. I neeeeeeed more!
Then…don’t get us started on the spinoffs. This whole musical world opened up so many different stories for us. If you saw our storyboards and One Note files you’d weep. It’s a sickness. One that I NEVER want a cure for. Cari and I will never be one of those writers that says, “I’m out of ideas.”
Seriously…TOO many ideas are rambling around in our heads! And man…we wouldn’t have it any other way!
Thanks so much for having us! And we hope you enjoy our next installment of the Lost in Oblivion series, TWISTED!
Author Bios:
USA TODAY bestselling author Cari Quinn wrote her first story--a bible parable--in 2nd grade, much to the delight of the nuns at her Catholic school. Once she saw the warm reception that first tale garnered, she was hooked. She attempted her first romance in junior high, long before she'd ever read one. Writing what she knew always took a backseat to what she wanted to know, and that still holds true today.
Though she also fires up her computer as a graphic designer, proofreader and editor, she can't resist the lure of disappearing into a world of her own creation. Now she gets to pen sexy romances for a living and routinely counts her lucky stars.
The only thing she loves more than writing is hearing from readers! Please contact her through one of the ways below.
Taryn Elliott comes from the great state of New York—upstate, thank you very much. She’s usually busy making up stories with her best friend until the wee hours of the morning, or fangirling over her favorite TV show. She falls in love with each and every one of her leading men as she writes their book, and there’s always a soundtrack to match.
Cari Quinn
Taryn Elliott
Email: taryn@tarynelliott.com
US & Canada only
A signed copy of Rocked (book 1)
Lost in Oblivion swag and a guitar ornament
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cant wait to read this one!!
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