Read Rockstar Romance: Julian (Contemporary New Adult Bad Boy Rock Star Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 3) for Free Online Page B

months, promoting the fuck out of our bands,” I’d told the manager. “We’re fucking tired.”
    “I get that,” Ron had said, doing his good cop, bad cop thing to the hilt. “I’ll go back to the label and explain that. But in the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you all made just a little more effort to keep up your end of the deal. I just want to see everyone win on this.”
    Which is why I was up, on my laptop, working on an update for the tour journal on my own. I sighed, tilting my head back and letting it fall against the shelf above the table. This all sounds boring as fuck, I thought, reviewing the last few paragraphs I’d written. How could I possibly make a tour sound boring? But it did. I lifted my head and let it drop again. I groaned and pulled myself up, scrubbing at my face. Take a lap, Jules. I stood, stretching against the tightness in my neck, my shoulders. There really wasn’t anywhere on the bus to walk to; not really. But I walked to the front of the bus, stopping just short of where the driver sat, past the bunks.
    Everyone was asleep. I walked back the way I’d come, past the bunks once more; I was tempted to crawl into Fran’s bunk, see if she might be interested in a little fooling around. Instead, I kept going: past the kitchenette, down the little hallway where the bathroom was, and finally into the rec room. I figured I’d grab a cigarette, regroup, and get back to work.
    There, seated on the couch, I saw Fran; she had an enormous pair of headphones on, plugged into her phone, and a notebook on her lap. How is it possible that she just keeps getting cuter? That was a dangerous thought, but it was true. Fran’s hair was mussed, hanging around her face. Her legs dangled off the edge of the couch, the toes of one of her feet pointing towards the floor. She looked like a doll, almost, except that she was scribbling furiously in her notebook, tapping the fingertips of her other hand on the page in time.
    “Hey,” I said, pitching my voice just loud enough—hopefully—to cut through the sound in her headphones. Fran’s hand paused, and she glanced up, and started.
    “Hey,” she said, tugging the headphones off of her ears. “Sorry, did I disturb you or something?”
    “Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “I was having trouble with my tour journal entry and decided to walk around a bit, try and see if that shook anything loose.” Fran grinned.
    “Know the feeling,” she said, stretching; the movement lifted the hem on her tee shirt, revealing a slice of her belly. “I’ve been trying to figure this song out for weeks.”
    “New Juniper Woolf?” I sat down on the couch next to her, wriggling until I was comfortable.
    “Maybe,” Fran said with a shrug. “I mean—I guess. Jaime came up with the beat, so I guess it has to be one of our songs.”
    “What else would it be?”
    “I write songs for myself sometimes, you know,” Fran told me. I saw the color creeping into her cheeks. “It’s not like I’m planning to go solo or anything…but sometimes I get ideas that just aren’t really what Juniper Woolf does, you know?” I nodded.
    “Yeah, I know that—maybe a little too well,” I admitted. Fran shot me a quizzical look. “I’m a musician, too, you know. I write songs sometimes.” I nudged her with my elbow. “I get about one song per album. Alex, Nick…even Dan and Mark are kind of all on the same page about how they want Molly Riot to sound. But not everything I want to write is in that style.”
    “What do you do with the rest of the material?” Fran shifted closer to me on the couch, and I had to admit: it felt good, her body pressed against mine, almost cuddling up to me.
    “Record it on my own, play it for the guys sometimes.” I shrugged. “Mostly it gathers virtual dust on my SoundCloud page.”
    “I’d like to hear it sometime,” Fran said. “I wanna hear what big bad Jules plays on his own time.” I snorted.
    “Show me yours first,” I