SnowFyer

By Marteeka Karland

Seth Snow: One hundred percent cocky bastard, Seth has never met a woman whose panties he couldn't get into. He is the frontman for SnowFyer, a hard rock band with a bad reputation.

Scarlett Fyer: Sister to SnowFyer's lead guitarist and the band's manage

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Aug 29, 2018

Marteeka Karland

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of. Want to see what's up with Marteeka? Website www.marteekakarland.com Facebook https://www.facebook.com/groups/735869533214213/ Facebook Page: facebook.com/experiencethemagicmk/ E-mail at [e-mail] Blog: marteekasdreams.com BookBub: bookbub.com/profile/marteeka-karland Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Marteeka-Karland/e/B004FZT1IS

Book preview

gives…

Chapter One

Seth! The busty blonde caught his attention as she flashed a perfect set of double D tits for him to sign. No bra, naturally. Beside her, not to be outdone, a brunette dropped her short shorts and bent over for him to sign one lusciously rounded ass cheek. The hot-pink thong with sparkles in the triangle disappearing between her cheeks seemed to wink at him in the glitter of camera flashes. After signing his name with the black Sharpie she provided, he gave the globe a light slap. She squealed in delight.

Ladies, he said, cocky grin in place.

How about a little kiss, the blonde said, winking at him while still thrusting her tits at him, shaking them a little. There was no doubt what she meant for him to kiss. Ever agreeable, Seth leaned down and sucked her nipple between his lips, licking the ripe bud with his tongue in a flutter.

Ohh! she cried, threading her hands through his long locks. I can return the favor in your room if you want. She giggled when he let her nipple go with a loud pop.

Both of us could, the brunette pouted, not to be ignored. She gave the blonde a side eye, having realized she’d been bested in the autograph arena.

Another time, ladies. He chuckled. The show’s over, but there’s still work to do. He gave each woman a passionate kiss while the cameras clicked and flashed happily away. Then, just for shits and giggles, he pulled them both to him so they shared a three-way kiss. This was all part of who SnowFyer was. All part of the show. But Seth loved it. Loved knowing he had his pick of women. Groupies weren’t normally his style, but he couldn’t deny the appeal some of them presented. Like this pair.

It seemed like there wasn’t a single woman in the whole Goddamned universe who didn’t want a piece of Seth Snow. As evidenced by the mob of them outside the sold-out arena. And his hotel. SnowFyer was as popular as it ever was, and he was the frontman, rivaled in popularity only by Arsen, his lead guitarist. The band was the hottest thing going today. Had been for nearly two decades. Though they were aging by today’s standards, no one seemed to be able to get enough of them. Every album they released made it to number one on the Billboard Hot One Hundred. Every song made it at least into the top fifty. There seemed to be no end to it.

With a wave and a cocky grin, he strode back to the bus, head high, the image of confidence and arrogance. He’d just walked away from what would surely be a very hot fuck, and he couldn’t care less. Probably because he was a cocky bastard. The second he entered the bus and the door closed, Seth was a different person. All business.

You going to be able to make it one more show? Arsen had his left hand in ice water.

The lead guitarist winced as he removed his hand, drying it on a nearby towel. He flexed it several times before shaking his head. No. I’m done.

All the band members sighed in various stages of disappointment and frustration. It couldn’t be helped. Carpal tunnel was a bitch, and Arsen had fought it with exercises and various physical therapies for years. His doctor had told him six months ago it was time for surgery, but they’d wanted to finish this tour. One more show. Only one more show!

Instead of bemoaning something that had been inevitable for a long time, Seth kept them all on track. Suggestions. Options.

Ferris is perfectly capable of picking it up, Arsen said in support of their rhythm guitarist. He knows the solo riffs and can follow your lead as well as I can.

"Oh, hell no, Ferris said, leaning back with his hands raised. That’s not me and… just no. Uh uh. No. There was a pause while everyone looked at him as if they might force him into it despite his wishes. Hell no!"

Easy there, bro. Seth chuckled. It was a suggestion.

Well, it was a piss-poor one. He glared at Arsen, who only gave him a two-fingered salute and a grin.

We already interviewed a metric crap-ton of men for the position. No one even comes close, as I recall, Ra, their keyboardist, offered. And ‘close’ simply isn’t good enough.

Well, we’ve got two nights before the final show, their drummer, Titan said, crossing massive arms over an equally massive chest. Let’s sleep on it tonight and have a meeting tomorrow. Titan didn’t often voice an opinion, but he was always methodical, calming everyone down when a situation started to bloom out of control. He was the rock in the rock band. It’s not a lot of time, but any knee-jerk reaction on our part will only make things worse. We’ll bring every idea, no matter how far-fetched, to the table and discuss it. Seth was feeling good about the discussion -- he was sure he could talk Ferris into anything -- when the woman he’d often thought of as hell on wheels entered their domain.

Okay, guys. Fridge is stocked. Titan, I even found that exotic-flavored water you like, though I still say if anyone saw you drinking it they’d call you a pussy. Everyone else has bottled spring water and soda. Before you say anything, Garrick, I got plenty of canned Coca-Cola. The rest of you guys will have to take what you can find, because Garrick is my favorite.

Seth nearly cringed. Scarlett was many things to the band, but she was the bane of his existence. Not because he disliked her; quite the opposite. Seth liked her fine. Probably a little too much. She was Arsen’s little sister and self-appointed manager of SnowFyer. The little hellion ran the business end like a general and occasionally lit a fire under their asses when they got complacent with practices or putting together new songs. She was the reason they all stayed sober when necessary. Not because she nagged them or said anything, really. Because she was just that sweet a girl, and they didn’t want to do anything disappoint her. Which was stupid. She’d traveled with the band since she was sixteen. Though they’d always tried to shield her from much of the reality of tour life, she wasn’t an idiot. She was nine years younger than Seth. Ten years younger than Arsen. Combine her age with the fact that one of his best friends was her brother, and she was completely off limits. A problem, since Seth wanted her with a fever that surpassed obsession.

Wait. You stocked Garrick’s Coke but didn’t get me any SunnyD? Speaking of obsessions, Ra had more than a small one with that particular drink. Probably because it mixed well with vodka. Which Scarlett knew and Ra thought he’d kept secret from her.

Naturally. You’re out of vodka, and I refuse to use band funds for alcohol. Get you some vodka, and I’ll buy your SunnyD. Ra hunched a little. Probably because he’d been busted about the vodka.

You know the only reason Garrick likes Coke is because he puts Captain Morgan in it. Right? Ra sounded disgruntled, but his grin ruined the effect.

You know I drink nearly as much Captain and Coke as Garrick. Right? Scarlett didn’t miss a beat, fist-bumping Garrick without even glancing in his direction. "And I buy my own rum. Besides, you guys don’t need to be drinking until the tour is over anyway. It messes