Blog Tour~ Rock Hard by Kat Austen







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First loves donā€™t last. Especially one as unlikely and turbulent as Elodie and Caspianā€™s.

Itā€™s been years since sheā€™s seen the rough rebel she fell in love with as a teen. Sheā€™s put him behind her and moved on. Thatā€™s the story she tries to sell her friends and family, but deep down, she knows itā€™s a lie. She hasnā€™t moved on from Caspian Cruz and she probably never will, but she has to finally give up hope theyā€™ll ever reunite.

Or does she?

When her friends drag her to a sold-out rock concert, she comes face to face with the lead singer . . . who just so happens to be the boy she fell for all those years ago.

She never thought sheā€™d see him again. She never realized heā€™d made it in the music world. And she never expected him to confess that heā€™s been waiting for her as long as sheā€™s been waiting for him.

What will happen when their worlds collide again? A repeat of the past or a second chance to get things right?



ROCK HARD is a short and sexy read, chock-full of excessive sweetness and heaps of filthy talking. Not for the faint or square of heart.


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ā€œMen suck. Itā€™s official. If a girl like you canā€™t keep a guy, there is literally no hope for me.ā€ My friend, Sydney, shook her head and took a drink of her margarita.
   ā€œJust to confirm, you know for sure that he was cheating on you?ā€ Our friend Jessie twisted on the stool to look at me straight on.
   Exhaling, I pulled my phone from my clutch and scrolled through a few messages until I found the one Iā€™d been sent a few days ago from a number I didnā€™t recognize. I refused to look at the picture, but I made sure Jessie and Sydney got a good look.
   Jessieā€™s eyes narrowed.  ā€œTwo-timing, sorry bastard.ā€
   Sydney winced like the image was grotesque. ā€œDude, if thatā€™s what he looks like beneath that fancy composerā€™s tuxedo, let that violin-playing hussy have his pasty, blubbery ass.ā€
   ā€œHeā€™s all hers,ā€ I said, tucking my phone back away.
   ā€œHans was crazy about you though. I donā€™t get it. Why the sudden change of heart?ā€ Jessie pulled the olive from her martini and popped it into her mouth.
   ā€œOh, please, it didnā€™t have anything to do with his heart. He was thinking with his dick when he fell into bed with Tits McGee there,ā€ Sydney chimed in, which worked for me. I wasnā€™t eager to hash out my most recent failed relationship with anyone, my two good friends included.
   Hans and I had been dating on and off for a couple of years. He was the conductor for the world-renowned Los Angeles symphony, twenty years my senior, and had a golden reputation in the upper circle. My parents had been thrilled when they found out I was seeing Hans Vandenberg, visions of musical-prodigy offspring dancing through their heads.
   No doubt theyā€™d been devastated when I told them weā€™d split. They probably would blame me for ruining it even if I showed them the photo Iā€™d been sent of him asleep and naked in bed with some other woman. They always seemed to prefer the ones who treated me like crap over the only one whoā€™d ever treated me the way a person who claimed to love someone should.
   ā€œI bet youā€™re relieved you didnā€™t let him finally wear you down, right, Elodie?ā€ Sydney had to nudge me to bring me back to the present. ā€œWay to hold out on a guy for two years. You made his true colors come through.ā€
   ā€œHis true colors being pasty with a splattering of really unattractive body hair,ā€ Jessie muttered.
   ā€œTruthfully, Iā€™m surprised it didnā€™t happen sooner. Hans and I were never good together. He or I should have called things off months ago.ā€ I shrugged like that was that, because it was.
   Other than looking good on paper, Hans and I had never made sense. Iā€™d never once looked at him and felt my stomach drop, and I knew all heā€™d seen when he looked at me was a young girl he was hoping to add to his rumored lengthy list of bed mates.
   That was part of the reason Iā€™d held out for so longā€”I didnā€™t want be one of a hundred others, or even one of a few. I wanted to be the one of one. The one heā€™d waited for. I wanted to be someoneā€™s The One.
   ā€œOkay, so Iā€™ve got a brilliant plan for Operation Over Hans VanPastyAss.ā€ Sydney tipped back what was left of her drink, lifting her finger at the bartender. ā€œWeā€™re going to get good and mildly drunk, then weā€™re going to go see My Mortal Affliction from the front row, babyā€ā€”Sydney pulled a trio of tickets from her purse, fanning them in my faceā€”ā€œweā€™re going to get on our knees and worship that god of a lead singer of theirs, probably flash him a few dozen times, then weā€™re going to make out with some really fine specimens before we allow our heads to hit the pillow tonight.ā€
   My eyebrows came together as I studied the concert tickets. Iā€™d agreed to meet my friends for a drink after my earlier performance, but I hadnā€™t planned on anything else after this. As it was, I was already checking the time, hardly able to wait to crawl into my bed and put an end to this day.
   From the friendsā€™ texts Iā€™d had to field who were just finding out about Hansā€™s and my split, to avoiding my parentsā€™ incessant calls encouraging me to work things out, to the concert where Iā€™d felt haunted by a ghost during the last few minutes, I was ready to put this day to bed.
   ā€œIā€™ve got early practice tomorrow,ā€ I said.
   Jessie lifted her finger at me. ā€œYouā€™ve always got early practice. Thatā€™s no longer an excuse to dodge life.ā€
    I blinked, offended. ā€œIā€™m not dodging life.ā€
   ā€œCorrection, you dodge the fun parts of life.ā€
   My mouth fell open a little as I looked at Sydney to back me up, but all she did was lift her hands and keep her lips sealed. I wanted to defend myself, but they were right. Other than the endless hours I spent playing piano, my life wasnā€™t very exciting. Outside of these two dragging me out for the occasional good time, my social calendar was pathetic.
    I had no idea who this My Mortal Addiction was, what kind of music they played, or if Iā€™d even like it, but having my friends call me out stirred something inside me. They were right. Iā€™d spent enough time waiting for my life to really get started. Enough time feeling like an empty shell.
   ā€œWell?ā€ I finished the last of my wine and slid off of my stool. ā€œReady when you are.ā€



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Kat Austen is the secret pen name of a New York Times and USATODAY bestselling author. Kat writes short and steamy reads that leave hearts (and other parts) satisfied.



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