Monday, September 7, 2015

BLOG TOUR: Songbird by Victoria Escobar


Songbird
By- Victoria Escobar
Genre- New Adult Contemporary Romance


Bianca ran from her past with the hope of being forgotten. Instead of living her dreams, she wasted her skills at a famous entertainment hall in Nashville. An offer to wrangle country music’s infamous bad boy, Nicholas Walker, proved too good to refuse.

However, life on the road presented its own challenges. Walker acted like an overgrown toddler that missed his nap. The band supported her takeover but the massive crew protested answering to a woman. On top of tip toeing around egos, discretion needed to be maintained while feeding Walker’s infamous sexual appetite.

She never expected Walker to focus his wandering eyes on her. When her past returned fighting Walker didn't seem as vital as keeping him alive. Walking away should be easy, but first they must all make it through unharmed.

  

              

EXCERPT
I knocked and waited. Then checked my watch and knocked again. The third time I knocked hard and made sure to vibrate the wood. The butlerish housekeeper Nick employed should answer the door, even if the temperamental singer had already left.
The man who opened the door was young, though older than me by a handful of years, stared at me. “Yes?”
“I’m the Tour Manager, Bianca Sheridan.” I pushed past him and studied the suitcases in the foyer. “These are for the tour?”
“Yes. Why exactly are you here?”
“I’m also filling the role as Mr. Walker’s assistant for the time being. He’s running late.” I looked at the butler fully. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Shamus.” The butler smiled. “Late is his MO.”
“Not today.” I tossed my keys at the guy. “Can you get his bags in my trunk please? I’ve got to go get Mr. Walker. His room is upstairs?”
“Yes, he has a guest.”
“Call a cab when you get back in and escort her out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shook his head slowly and gave a quiet laugh. “Good luck.”
“Bianca is fine.” I hurried up the stairs and picked up the trail of female clothes on the way. Interesting to note I didn’t see any of Nicholas’s clothes in the trail. The fact sort of gave me the impression of an in and out kind of guy. Since no one watched, I rolled my eyes then rapped twice on the open bedroom door.
“Mr. Walker?” Walking in I continued picking up clothes—even I didn’t wear this many layers—and stood next to the bed. Nicholas was half under the covers and snoring lightly. Lovely.
“Mr. Walker.” A little frustrated, I nudged the bed with a foot, no way was I going to put a hand on it with his reputation, and he didn’t budge.
The female groaned softly from her prone position next to him and rolled to face me. “Who are you?”
“Mr. Walker’s assistant. Get up and get dressed. A taxi has been called.”
She yawned. “He said he didn’t have to leave until noon.”
I could have ground my teeth to powder. “So I’m here, in his house before eight in the morning because he’s early? Get up. Put your clothes on.” I handed them over to her. She huffed, climbed out of bed, and slammed the bathroom door behind her. The shower clicked on moments later.
“Mr. Walker.” I leaned over and with a hand on his bare shoulder shook him hard.
“What?” His exhale had me reeling back. If air could cause intoxication, I would have been on the floor.
I pinched the bridge of my nose before looking around for inspiration. His pants were in a heap on top of his boots. The shirt was across the room. I walked across the room and picked up the shirt contemplating ideas. I grabbed his jeans and boots and stood next to the bed again.
I set the clothes on the bed and leaned down to Nicholas. Taking a deep breath, I shoved down my irritation to speak in my gentlest voice. “It’s time to go.” I gently tugged on his arm. “Come on sit up for me?”
Guiding a toddler had such similarities that I smiled to myself. Nicholas grumbled but sat up with his eyes closed. I reminded myself not to stare, after all staring was rude without permission, but his bronze skin on display deserved a hymn to honor its perfection. His pecs were bare but a trail of hair ran from his belly button down to where thankfully, the blanket still covered him somewhat. Swallowing hard and glancing nervously at the bathroom door I decided to get this over with. I tugged the shirt over his head and guided his arms through the sleeves.
On the middle finger of his right hand, he wore the ring he kept toying with last week. Up close, I could see a black stone—possibly onyx, maybe obsidian—set into a fleur de lis pattern that almost looked like a cross. Chunky and made of either silver or platinum, I bet it was worth more than my advance for taking this job.
I took a slow deep breath and exhaled just as leisurely. I will not look turned into I will not judge when I pulled the covers back and pulled his legs over the side of the bed. I kept my eyes carefully focused on his closed eyes so I wasn’t tempted to look where I had no business casting eyes onto. Apparently returning to his passed out state he slumped forward. Since he wasn’t arguing or fighting, I assumed he was okay with me dressing him.
His feet easily tucked into his pants and I pulled them up to his knees. Next was the tricky part. I kept my eyes on his face. “Come on, Walker. Stand up for a minute.”
He grumbled but swayed to his feet with my help. His torso fell heavily against me as I lifted his pants into place and nearly took us both to the floor. I tucked his shirt in and was very careful to keep fabric under my hand.
I wanted the fabric against his skin for two reason. One—me touching, even accidentally, that part of him without his permission felt wrong in so many ways. Two—when I zipped his pants, if anything caught I didn’t want it to be man flesh.
He slumped back to the bed the moment I got his jeans snapped but that worked for me. I tugged his boots on, then picked up his wallet and phone from the nightstand, and shoved them into his available pockets.
“Okay. It’s time to go.” I had no clue how I was going to get the still mostly drunk and semi-conscious Nicholas Walker down the stairs.
“I want to sleep,” he muttered.
“You can sleep on the bus. For as long as you want.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart, Walker.”


About the Author-
Born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, but with the ability to claim eight states as home; Victoria Escobar writes fiction from her current home in New York. She writes whatever comes to mind and because of such has a variety of genres written including Young Adult, New Adult, Paranormal, Urban Fantasy, and Contemporary Fiction.

In spare time if not with family, and friends Victoria enjoys curling up with a book from a favorite author with music playing. If not reading or writing she spends time drawing, sketching, crocheting, or some other random art project. She enjoys staying busy, but most of all enjoys staying creative.

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