Sexy, Swoony, Rock Star Romance Release Today!

I'm super duper excited to share with all of you The Reverse of Perfection, the 2nd novella in my Bad Decisions trilogy. Now, I PROMISE that it stands alone, so you can totally grab this sexy, funny rock star romance even if you haven't read The Opposite of Right. Plus, it'll be perfect reading for the long holiday weekend - the epitome of a beach read!

Dylan Royce, ex-teen pop star, needs a sexy image makeover. His first adult solo album came out under his perfect, white-washed persona and tanked. Joining a band equally famous for their music and their between-the-sheets escapades is only the start. He needs to get raunchy. Sleep with a different girl every night. But there’s only one woman he wants, and she still sees him as a goody two-shoes boy-bander. 

Ariel Watson is the publicist in charge of turning Dylan into the sex-god every woman dreams of doing. Frankly, she doesn’t see the appeal. Until one hot kiss changes her mind. Now she wants to keep him for herself--without losing her job. Or losing Dylan the legions of drooling fans she’s supposed to be building for him. 

Turning bad got Dylan the woman of his dreams. But how will he choose between her...or his career catapulting him back to superstar status?

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1WnJyJ6 / B&N: http://bit.ly/21TvR3W / iBooks: http://apple.co/1WbER4G
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1T427vH

Excerpt:

Ariel lifted her chin. “I would not appreciate being manhandled. I do like to be handled by a man who knows what he’s doing. There is a difference.”

“I know the difference.” Dylan picked up his blazer and held it over his shoulder by a single finger. “And I’ll prove that, too.”

Before Ariel could snarkily turn him down, before she could remind him that she was the one in charge, before she could do anything, he’d already moved in on her. Used his hips to press her into the curve of the piano. Used his shoulder to nudge her body into a better angle. And then his lips met hers. Softly. Not all bluster and brashness.

No, Dylan surprised her with his technique. His kiss was a faint brush of lips. Then another. A slow back and forth that had her opening her own lips in a silent plea for more. More contact. More kisses. More of him. Ariel even raised up on tiptoe to lean into that provocative mouth.

It worked. Dylan slid his hand along her waist, then up her side so his thumb lay just below the lower curve of her right breast. The fact that he was so near and yet not touching it made Ariel hyperaware of his fingers. The length of them. The heat of them searing right through her top, as though all the heat from playing Naked now seeped out of him. Dylan squeezed, pressing her in and up, bowing her to press her breasts into his chest.

And then his tongue swooped in. Licking. Languorously exploring—and that exploration had the added bonus of slowly rousing every infinitesimal strand of nerves in her mouth. Warmth swirled right along with his tongue. Except that trail of warmth took off on its own path, expanding through her body with each pulse of her heart, each pull of his lips.

Ariel didn’t want to do anything to jar the perfection of what was inarguably one of the top three kisses of her entire life. But she simply couldn’t contain her pleasure—or her growing excitement. A low moan broke from her throat.

As feared, that was enough to make Dylan ease back. He removed his hand first…still without lifting his thumb that last crucial millimeter to make contact with her now aching breast. With a final suck on her bottom lip, he lifted his head. Looked at her with bedroom eyes, heavy-lidded and somehow darker than when she’d first seen them.

“That’s what it’s like to be well-handled by a man. I need you to keep that in mind. Make sure you handle me just as well over the next few weeks.” Dylan turned on his heel to walk out with one heck of a cocky swagger. Which was when Ariel realized he’d just kissed her legs out from under her without even using two hands. The other had kept holding his jacket.

Ohhhh.

Dylan Royce was definitely not the teenager she’d watched bop around in those videos. He was all man. A very dangerous man. Because in proving how easily he could make women in the audience want him, he’d also proven how easily he could make Ariel want him.

And now that she did want him? Enough so that she had to ease onto the piano bench and let her head clear? It’d be impossible to look at him the same way again. It’d be impossible to ignore the chemistry between them. It’d be impossible to shadow him twenty-four/seven, stay impartial and do her job.

But if she didn’t, if Ariel screwed up at all handling Dylan, she’d be fired. Funny how that fear still wasn’t enough to dim the luster of his kiss.

Hot New Rock Star Romance!

Let's face it - rock bands are sexy. And not just because the lead singer tends to rip off his shirt. The unattainable famous bad boy is an awesome fantasy. At some point, whether it lasted a day or ten years, everyone went through a phase where they had the hots for a rocker. Today is the release of book one in my Bad Decisions trilogy, where you can get your fill of sexy rock gods, hot hook-ups and band drama.

Kylie Stafford has spent her whole life doing exactly what’s expected. The right major, the right sorority, the right guys, just like her mother and her sister before her. But when everything falls apart for her, Kylie wonders if doing everything right has been utterly wrong. There’s only one way to find out.

She decides to try making all the wrong choices for three months. Hit on a tattoo-covered rock musician? Check. Go back to his dressing room for a hot hook-up against the wall? Gulp. Drop everything to be a roadie for him to binge on more of the best sex of her life? Maybe. Start falling for him despite her better judgment? Um….yeah. Figure out why doing everything that seems wrong feels so darn right?

Purchase at: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo

Here's a sexy sneek peak!

For just a second, white teeth worried at her lower lip. In exactly the spot he wanted to sink his own teeth. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Her tongue shot out to slick across her lips. God, the woman was killing him. And she probably didn’t even know the effect she had on him. In a quiet voice, Kylie asked, “Why me?”

“You did great tonight. You’re here. Apparently, you’re available. Sometimes things just line up right.”

“Like our lips, earlier tonight.”

Cam shot a desperate glance at the door. Sadly, everyone in the music industry treated the post-show closed door with a solemn reverence. Nobody would interrupt them even if John Lennon came back to life. Why the hell had Jake trusted him to be alone with Kylie? “Yeah, about that.”

Kylie straddled him. Hooked her wrists behind his neck. “We were interrupted. Let’s pick up where we left off.”

Heaving a deep breath, Cam said, “That’s not a good idea.”

The wide-eyed enthusiasm disappeared, replaced by a knowing, sultry look full of promise and passion. “That’s exactly why I want to do it. Bad decisions are a recent specialty of mine.”

“No, I mean, I promised the guys.” Cam kept his promises. Sure, he thought this particular one was stupid, but he still planned to keep it. Performing was the equivalent of stripping yourself naked in front of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. There had to be deep trust between the people doing it with you.

She licked her lips again. And it was obvious that this time she did it on purpose, eyes locked on his. “What, you’ve saved your lips for them alone?”

Funny girl. Funny girl with soft breasts pressed tight against his chest. And thighs that kept grinding her pelvis against his. “I promised them no hanky-panky on the bus.”

“We’re not on the bus yet.”

Smart girl, too. Cam did love a good logic loophole. No one could fault him for obeying the letter of the law instead of the spirit. Or if they did, he’d at least have a decent defense. With his last shred of self-control, he shook his head. “It wouldn’t be right. You work for me.”

“Not yet. I haven’t signed on the dotted line. In fact, I’m not even sure if I have a pen on me to sign.” In one swift movement, Kylie whipped her Riptide shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. “Maybe you could help me look for it?”

Creamy breasts just big enough to fill his palms spilled out of low-cut black lace. The lace was sheer enough he could see the color of her nipples through it. They were about three shades paler than her hair. Sexy as hell. He’d been hard since the moment she sat on his lap. But now he was hard. Ramrod hard. Steel-girder hard. Could break a stack of boards with just his penis hard.

Cam wasn’t sure if he was giving in to his lust, or just giving in to the inevitable. He didn’t care. Framing her breasts, capturing their weight in his hands, he groaned, “God, you’re beautiful.” Then he licked a long, wet line along the edge of her bra. Kylie felt like satin and tasted like sin. It was his favorite combination.

“Help me be bad,” she whispered into his hair.

He was a rock ’n’ roll star. It was practically a contractual requirement to say yes to an offer like that. Still, Cam had standards. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he offered instead. 

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Bio: Christi Barth earned a Masters degree in vocal performance and embarked upon a career on the stage.  A love of romance then drew her to wedding planning.  Ultimately she succumbed to her lifelong love of books and now writes award-winning contemporary romance.  Christi is President of the Maryland Romance Writers and lives in Maryland with her husband.

Red Hot New #ROCKSTARROMANCE That Will Fire You Up!

Let's face it - rock bands are sexy. And not just because the lead singer tends to rip off his shirt. The unattainable famous bad boy is an awesome fantasy. At some point, whether it lasted a day or ten years, everyone went through a phase where they had the hots for a rocker.

Kylie Stafford has spent her whole life doing exactly what’s expected. The right major, the right sorority, the right guys, just like her mother and her sister before her. But when everything falls apart for her, Kylie wonders if doing everything right has been utterly wrong. There’s only one way to find out.

She decides to try making all the wrong choices for three months. Hit on a tattoo-covered rock musician? Check. Go back to his dressing room for a hot hook-up against the wall? Gulp. Drop everything to be a roadie for him to binge on more of the best sex of her life? Maybe. Start falling for him despite her better judgment? Um….yeah. Figure out why doing everything that seems wrong feels so darn right?

Preorder it today on Amazon!
Here's a sneek peak:

Waiting wouldn’t make her any braver. So she marched right up to the hot man. Couldn’t even see his face because of the exposed single lightbulb hanging two inches above his head. Kylie focused on the late day scruff along his jawline instead.

“Hi. I think you’re hot. I’ve had a really lousy day, and I think kissing you will make it better.”

Silence—or what passed for silence in a crowded club at almost ten pm—hung between them just long enough for Kylie to decide she’d made a horrible mistake. She was only wearing jeans, not anything sexy. This guy was waiting for a bathroom to open up. Maybe he needed to pee more than he needed to be sexually accosted by a stranger. She tried to squint past the bright halo obscuring his face to figure out if he was smiling or shocked or just dismissive.

“Let’s find out,” he finally said in a good-natured tone.

Wow. That was easy. Except….asking him was only step one of her first bad decision. Implementing step two was something else entirely. Kylie had no idea how to start. Should she wait until after the bathroom? Go straight for the lips, or kick things off with an introductory neck nibble? And where to put her hands?

The man snaked out an arm around her waist, pulling her close enough that the buttons on their jeans clinked. Kylie stumbled, which ended up putting one of his legs between hers. Both hands flew up to rest on those taut pecs. “Hi,” he breathed softly against her ear.

Oh. That was nice of him. The polite ‘hi’ was all it took to spur her into action. Kylie pushed onto her tiptoes, turned her head sideways and aimed for his lips. She almost missed. Got the corner and some sharp stubble.

But this guy knew his stuff. He caught her lower lip with his upper, tugged her into place. And then he nibbled. Just soft, short nibbles. Ones that made all the hair on her arms stand up. His tongue traced the crease between her lips. Kylie parted them on a sigh, but he didn’t push the advantage. Instead, he just kept up the teasing, back and forth motion.

Heat seared into her lower back. Without her realizing it, he’d shifted his hand to the exposed skin between her jeans and tied-up tee. Big. Warm. Moving in a slow whoosh, like a brush across a snare drum. It made Kylie want to wriggle closer. So still on tiptoe, she wrapped her leg around his. That motion brought her flush against something very, very hard. Wow.

His other hand grasped the side of her face. Tilted it back a bit. Then his tongue finally swooped in, caressing—seriously!—all of her tongue as carefully and thoroughly as Kylie imagined he might treat her breast. God, she wanted to rip her shirt off and let him do just that.

Tipping his forehead against hers, he asked, “Is your day any better now?”

“Who cares about my day? My night is freaking fantastic.” Kylie pulled back to look at him. And felt her knees turn to slush. It….he…the man she’d been kissing was none other than Cam Watson. God, she’d spent hour after hour staring at his pictures and gifs and videos. Kylie felt like an idiot for not recognizing him sooner. Of course, he’d cut off all his signature long hair and spiked-up what was left. It made him look edgier. Badder. More mouth-watering.