One band. Five love stories. Too many secrets. We’ve been waiting a long time to find out how the band Tattoo Thief will deal with drummer Dave’s toxic ex—and the secrets she’s been collecting on everyone. It was worth the wait. You don’t have to be a fan of the series to love a book that starts fast with a huge wow moment and then unpacks the band’s secrets. In fact, you don’t have to read the earlier books because each book is a different love story about a different member of the band. About Say it Louder: I had a choice—dump my toxic girlfriend, or break up my band. It should have been easy. But she’s been collecting dirt on all of us for years. Just when I think I’ve hit rock bottom, a pink-haired street artist rocks my world. They call Willa “the Parking Lot Picasso.” I call her my refuge, my center, my last reason to hope. When Willa’s life on the streets collides with a sudden spotlight on her art, I’ll stop at nothing to protect her. But when the spotlight turns on my secret shame, she might be my only salvation. Grab your copy today: Amazon ebook | iBooks | Kobo | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Paperback
We jog west a few blocks, passing a noisy bar where a handful of patrons are smoking and chatting on the sidewalk outside. The thump of bass from the music reaches my chest, beating in time with my heart.
I stumble on a raised sidewalk edge and Willa’s suddenly not there beside me. I whip my head around, and I’m alone.
What the …?
A snap from the alley I just passed alerts me. I backtrack ten paces, and she’s there, hand on her hip, telegraphing annoyance. I broke the first rule: keep up.
I follow her down the alley to a quieter, narrow street lined with mostly apartments. A gray metal roll-up door is down and locked to cover a storefront. She digs into her messenger bag and pulls out a long, rolled sheet of cardboard and masking tape.
“Make yourself useful.” She hands me one edge of the cardboard. In the moonlight, I see shapes cut through it, and I follow her gestures to hold it against the door. She tapes it up. I’m not sure of the cutouts, but I think they form words.
Sounds from the sidewalk at the end of the side street make Willa’s body go rigid. I hear voices, and suddenly she grabs my shirt and spins us in front of the door, her back against the cardboard cutout to partially block it. Her arms go around my neck and she yanks my face toward hers.
The voices grow louder. Two men are walking down the sidewalk.
“Kiss me,” Willa hisses. “Now.”
Rule three: do what she says, ask questions later.
She doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I lower my mouth on hers, finally tasting cinnamon and clove. Her kiss is desperate, her fingertips digging into my shoulders as the men approach us. She hooks one leg around the back of my knee and suddenly my crotch is pressed right up against her. I feel myself harden.
Through her thin leggings, I’m sure she feels it too.
And what the hell else is she feeling right now, as her lips move hard against me and her hips tilt up to meet mine? I dart my tongue into her mouth, exploring, and she moans. The men’s conversation drops off, but they’re still walking toward us.
My hands round her hips and fill with two perfectly muscled ass cheeks. The electricity of our touch sparks brighter, shooting want and need and desperate urges into my kiss that quicken the tempo of my pulse.
It’s something I haven’t felt in years. Something so raw it cuts to the bone, to what lies beneath our flesh and blood and ink.
Only a few yards from us, the men slow their pace. Willa kisses me harder, panting tiny breaths, and I inhale her scent and breath and being. I kiss her back, eyes wide open as I strain to understand her expression.
By their footsteps, I know the men keep walking. As their sound recedes, I feel the tension melt from Willa’s body, feel her more pliant beneath my hands as the men amble down the street.
I draw her lower lip into my mouth and suck on it, wanting to taste the fullness of cinnamon. The fullness of Willa.
And that’s when her hands unwind from my neck, trailing down my shoulders to my elbows. As the men’s voices fade, she disentangles herself from me, panting.
She runs a hand through her spiky pink layers. “That was close.”
No, that was awesome. I stay silent.
“If they’d come down this street a few minutes later, they’d’ve smelled the paint. They’d know we weren’t just here to make out.”
“It’s a good enough reason,” I say, disappointment churning in my gut. Was that kiss real? Or was I just covering for her?
Because that kiss wasn’t just a pretend kiss. It wasn’t just a here-put-your-lips-on-me-for-a-while kind of deal.
That was thunder and lightning and the heavy, heady feel of air rich with ozone in late summer. The kind of night that makes you feel even more alive.
Get the first book in the Tattoo Thief series free (on iBooks, Amazon, Nook or Kobo), or dive in to Say it Louder by downloading a free extended sample for Kindle or all other devices. Check out this excerpt, and then enter the Rafflecopter giveaway to win a signed paperback and special swag.
About Heidi Joy Tretheway: Heidi Joy Tretheway is a sucker for campfires, craft cocktails, and steamy romance in books and real life. She sings along with musicals (badly), craves French carbs, and buys plane tickets the way some women buy shoes. Her first career as a journalist took Heidi behind the scenes with politicians, rock stars, and chefs, all of whom inspire her stories. Heidi Joy is currently working on her tenth book from her home in southwestern Washington. Connect with Heidi:
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