Daring Ceri: A Second Chance Rock Star Romance

By Morgana Bevan

New spicy rock star romance from Welsh romance author, Morgana Bevan.

✓ A surprise marriage
✓ and a second chance at love
✓ for a playboy rockstar
✓ and an ex-dancer
✓ forced proximity on tour
✓ tour bus antics and smexy times
✓ and best of all, he’s all in from the start!

The spotlights stole her heart once. Now they're stealing her future — and she's not leaving without a fight.

Alex
Who knew a drunken ceremony in Fiji could be legally binding? Not me, but I'm not complaining.
I couldn't figure out how to make her give me a second chance, how to prove I've changed from the jerk who dumped her years ago. Now I have my chance to show her the man I've become — and this time, the finale will be just the start.

Ceri
I'm engaged. I've moved on. Yet destiny drops the man who broke my heart back into my life with no warning. 
Now the rock god who ditched me for fame is blackmailing me into a three-month tour that will wreck everything I've worked for.
I know better. Some days, I hate him. But despite our history, his rhythm still calls to me. 
I won't be another conquest. If he thinks I'll surrender to the same fantasy that ruined me before, he's wrong. But refusing him could mean losing it all.

Daring Ceri is a steamy second chance rock star romance following two childhood sweethearts and an eight-year-old accidental marriage.

For readers who love forced proximity, second chance love, and the kind of romance that never fades.

For Readers Who Like Work By Kylie Scott, Olivia Cunning, Toni Kenyon, and Terri Anne Browning.

Other books in the True Platinum series:
Chasing Alys (A Strangers-to-Lovers Rock Star Romance) 
Winning Nia (A Second Chance Rock Star Romance)
Enticing Mel (A Secret Baby Rock Star Romance)
Defying Ella (A Close Proximity Rock Star Romance)
Needing Emily (An Accidental Vegas Wedding/ Runaway Bride Rock Star Romance)
Braving Lily (An Opposites Attract Rock Star Romance)
Daring Ceri (A Second Chance Rock Star Romance)
Marrying Olivia (An Accidental Vegas Wedding Rock Star Romance)

• Language: English
• Publisher: C Bevan Publishing
• Release date: Sep 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9791222452609

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

CERI

Ishifted my weight from one foot to the other, twisting my diamond engagement ring around my finger while I waited my turn at the registry office.

Once I got the marriage licence sorted, I could enjoy my rare free afternoon. What I’d do with it, I had no clue. An endless line of options piled up inside my head.

A new dance film had just released that Richard refused to watch with me. I didn’t really like the idea of going to the cinema alone, but at least I’d get to see it.

And I’d almost definitely leave with the deep-seated urge to dance. Then I could stop by the dance studio after.

When I finally reached the clerk, her fingers flew over the keys in a flurry as she double-checked the records on her outdated monitor. Seconds after she started her fingers froze and something inside of me twisted.

Something’s wrong.

Her brows pinched together, and her lips puckered, twisting that knife of concern deeper. When her eyes lifted to meet mine, I tensed.

Ms Daniels, there seems to be a problem. She turned the monitor to face me and pointed at a blurry licence. According to this, you’re already married.

My heart stopped.

Married? That was impossible. Someone must have made a mistake.

But then my eyes narrowed on the signatures, my own, and a sickeningly familiar name next to it.

I can give you papers to file the divorce, but as you’ll understand, I can’t issue a marriage licence until this one is dissolved.

I vaguely remembered ending up in Fiji with Alex one summer, getting stupidly drunk. But I didn’t know we were married, let alone that it would be legally binding.

We must have been, I don’t know, twenty-one? Eight years had passed at least since I’d last laid eyes on the man.

How could Alex do this to me? And what would happen to my life now that I was legally bound to him?

What would Richard say?

I sat in my car, staring blankly at the steering wheel.

I couldn’t tell Richard. Not if I wanted a chance of maintaining the life I’d painstakingly built. He’d lose his shit.

No, I needed to handle this.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and searched for Alex on social media, something I hadn’t done in years. It used to be a daily habit. Until Fiji, come to think of it. After I got back, I decided to stop torturing myself, keeping track of him and all the models he was pictured with.

A video of him in a familiar bar loaded, posing in a familiar hallway plastered in rock magazine covers, pointing at one with his band.

The timestamp marked the post an hour old.

Of course a millionaire musician would be hanging out in a bar in Cathays on a Saturday afternoon. Only us people like me had to work.

Why was he even in Cardiff? He’d lived in LA for eleven years, pretty much ever since we broke up. He left for the headlining tour and never came back, unless it was to talk me into some whistle-stop holiday that I’d never been able to make myself refuse.

He wouldn’t make it easy — nothing ever was with him — but the timing… that had to mean something.

Still, no matter how serendipitous his being in Cardiff right when I needed him was, some part of me would always be the naive, lovesick seventeen-year-old he left.

And that lovesick girl had a major problem. She couldn’t see him for the wolf he was.

It would be far too easy to let him sweet talk me, to fall into old habits. I needed to be prepared to push all of the good memories away, to push him away, and take what I wanted for once. No way in hell would I let him stand in my way when I was so close to getting everything I wanted, the life I deserved.

I took a deep breath and steeled myself for what I had to do. I put the car in gear and headed towards the pub.

By the time I got across Cardiff, there were no free tables, and the line at the bar stood three people deep. The football crowd had well and truly turned out for the weekend game.

Not that any of it mattered. I wouldn’t find The Brightside out in the open. No, they were far too recognisable now.

I pushed through the crowd, trying to be as gentle and polite as I could, but my patience ran out when five minutes ticked by and I’d barely cleared half the room. A chorus of grumbling followed me as I picked up my pace and liberally used my elbows, but I made it to the hallway tucked in beside the bar.

For a second, I could breathe again, but my relief died before it could fully form. Two guys in suits blocked my path, arms crossed in a way that brooked no argument.

That’s new.

The one on the left was a hulking ginger, his beard doing little to hide the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he eyed me. His companion was taller still, with dark hair and eyes that skimmed over me with bored indifference. Something about his gaze suggested he judged everyone by appearances alone, and mine had already been found wanting.

I stifled a groan. At least the ginger seemed to find this whole affair entertaining. His companion looked ready to toss me out with the rubbish.

Anger simmered in my veins, fuelling my resolve. However long it had been, their guards were no match for my determination to take back control of my life. I would see Alex if I had to move heaven and earth and all the overstuffed suits that came with them.

Bathrooms are to the right, the ginger one said, his Scottish brogue tinged with amusement.

My brow furrowed as he gestured towards the main bar before crossing his arms again. Granted, I hadn’t looked at myself in the mirror since leaving the house this morning, but surely anyone with even a lick of sense could see the anger hardening my expression.

Instead, he stood there smirking like I was the best entertainment he’d seen all day.

Tell him where to stick his condescending smile and get on with it.

As appealing as the idea seemed, I didn’t do that any more. I had a handle on my temper now.

I’m here to see Alex, I said.

The Scot gave me a once over, his brows climbing. Hate to break it to you, love, but you’re not his type.

I bit back a biting retort. Just tell him Ceri’s here to see him.

The Scot chuckled. Sorry, sweetheart. Mr Thomas doesn’t take unscheduled visitors. His manager would have my head if I let just anyone back there.

Mr Thomas? I tried not to snort at the ridiculousness of it but it was hard. I’m not just anyone. We’re... old friends. I kept my tone indignant but calm. For now.

He eyed me doubtfully. Even if that were true, Alex has particular tastes in women. And you don’t fit the bill. His gaze tracked down my body again. For one, you’re far too leggy.

My hands clenched into fists. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Tell Alex that Ceri needs to speak with him. Now.

He smirked. I doubt he’d care. I suggest you run along before you cause a scene.

I stepped closer, meeting his glare with one of my own. "The only one causing a scene here is you. Tell Alex I’m here or I’ll⁠—"

You’ll what? he scoffed. Stamp your foot some more? I’ve dealt with groupies far more intimidating than you, sweetheart.

Groupies. He thought I…

Rage boiled up inside me at his arrogance and the insinuation that I would ever throw myself at a musician because of their fame. Apparently I couldn’t even get rid of the one I had.

Maybe if you were better at your job, you’d know I’m not some obsessed fan. I’m his bloody wife!

A familiar voice spoke from behind him. Wife?

I peered around the bodyguard to see Alex standing there, completely stunned.

He looked the picture of a successful rock star — if your image included a man over six foot three, wearing ripped skinny jeans and band shirts that he’d almost certainly owned since we were in school.

When we first got together, he was the typical skinny musician. Over the years, his lanky body had filled out. I wasn’t delusional, I knew the bastard would be just as hot as when we’d parted, but couldn’t time have made him a little less attractive to me?

The guard whirled around, his confused gaze darting between Alex and me. Have you been holding out on me, pal?

Alex’s brow furrowed, his eyes never leaving my face. I haven’t the faintest idea what she’s on about either, Brodie.

I bristled at the way he spoke, as if I weren’t there, but held my tongue. After so long, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.

The picture of a man who’d just rolled out of bed after a good fuck.

You’re saying you two aren’t…? Brodie gestured between us, struggling for words and tearing my attention away from ogling Alex’s body.

No! Alex insisted.

Say it with a little more conviction. Brodie snorted. Well this is one for the books. How’d you manage to misplace an entire wife?

I didn’t misplace anyone! His eyes collided with mine, searching for answers. It’s a joke, isn’t it, Cez? He ran an agitated hand through blond hair longer now than it used to be but still unruly as ever. Getting back at me after all these years?

Indignation flooded in, quick and hot. As if I had nothing better to do these past eight years than plot revenge. Please.

According to the records I saw today, we’ve been legally married for eight years, I said, my voice perfectly level and not brimming with a need to strangle him.

Alex stared at me, slack-jawed. How... how is that even possible?

Brodie chuckled. I was just taking the mickey about forgetting a wife. How’d you really manage that?

Alex threw up his hands in frustration. I didn’t manage anything! I don’t know what she’s on about. His expression turned pleading. Please. Be serious. He stepped around Brodie, grabbed my hand and tugged me into the hallway.

Hey! Brodie protested.

Alex cut the bodyguard a hard look and his mouth slammed shut. Then he focused all of that attention back on me. My treacherous body loved the feel of those intense eyes fixed on me and only me.

We’re not married.

My simmering anger reignited in an instant. Maybe I needed to take more meditation classes because this shit was not holding. I unfolded the paper I’d tucked into my pocket at the registry office and slammed it against his chest.

Then explain this.

His bewildered expression melted away as he read the photocopied marriage certificate.

Fiji? He glanced up, his blue eyes fixed on me with an odd, calculating light. A slow grin spread across his face.

What the hell was he thinking?

Well, what do you know, Twinkle Toes? I always said you couldn’t get rid of me that easy.

His casual declaration and use of my old nickname set my teeth on edge. Brodie peered over his shoulder, brows climbing as he read. You’ve kept me in the dark all this time, you sly dog. He shook his head, chuckling. No wonder you’ve been so tight-lipped about your love life.

Alex glanced at him in disbelief. Don’t look at me, I’m as shocked as you are! But can’t fight the facts, apparently. His gaze swung back to me, grin unwavering and that disconcertingly calculating look in his eye. Or fate, seems like.

I folded my arms, pulse racing. This could not be happening. There’s nothing about this that’s fate, Alex. I have a life now...

I needed this divorce.

Why was he smiling like that?

It was just a local ceremony. There wasn’t even an officiant. I bit back the edge of panic but only just. Alex noticed; he always noticed. We can’t actually be married!

Alex quirked a brow. Says right here we are. He pointed at our signatures on the certificate. And after so long, I doubt an annulment would do the trick. We’re well and truly stuck with one another now, Twinkle Toes.

CHAPTER TWO

ALEX

W e are absolutely not stuck together, Ceri snapped.

Hold that thought, Twinkle Toes. I caught her hand again and she stiffened.

Her hand was small and soft compared to mine, but holding it punched me in the gut. For a moment I felt eighteen-fucking-years-old again, mesmerised by the girl who’d always have my sorry ass, until she tugged and reality crashed back.

Do not call me that ever again, she bit out.

Why? You used to love it.

She scowled at me, only making my amusement grow.

Okay, so sometimes she loved my little pet name. It had always depended on her mood and not how I said it. I did not.

The hallway ended and we stepped into the back room. The moment I crossed the threshold, I had second thoughts. Maybe I should have led her out the front door and into my car. Instead of into a room full of nosey fuckers who’d get in my way.

That can’t be Ceri-fucking-Daniels, Lewis, our bassist, said, his voice filled with astonishment. The prick shuffled out of the booth, grinning as he studied Ceri. She’d cut off your arm before letting you touch her again.

That’s a bit extre⁠—

He’s not wrong, Ceri said before yanking her hand out of my grip. I’m here for a divorce, not a show and tell.

Divorce? When I literally just got her back?

Yes, the timing had always been shit and my job got in the way, but that didn’t change the facts. She was it for me. My endgame. Always had been and always would be.

I’d fucked up, the way I’d left her, I could admit that. But once the band slowed down, I would be able to give her the life she deserved for putting up with me. That day was two years away, after this tour ended.

The pieces were finally falling into place and no way in fucking hell was I giving up that ace so easily.

Her brows rose as if she expected me to feel even a speck of shame about our situation. Oh, my girl had clearly forgotten a thing or two if she thought this would shame me.

When the hell did you two get married? Andy, our rhythm guitarist, asked.

He scrambled out of the booth and rushed over, his mop of brown hair falling in his eyes, well overdue a haircut. Tom, our drummer, followed closely behind.

I didn’t think you knew how to lock her down. Tom flashed Ceri an easy smile, his hazel eyes crinkling at the edges with a softness that deepened my scowl. Not that we haven’t missed you, of course, Cez. He’s always been useless with you.

Tom. I glared at him. Shut it if you know what’s good for you.

Yeah, yeah. He waved me off, not even slightly concerned. Spill! When did this happen?

Ceri’s cheeks reddened at all of the attention, the blush stark against her pale skin.

Yeah, her little declaration had definitely backfired on her.

None of your business. I tightened my grip on Ceri’s hand.

Like hell it isn’t! said Andy. You’ve been an unbearable asshole for years and now —

Andy, I snapped. I need to talk to Ceri before you nosey fuckers get involved.

Andy held my gaze for a moment then nodded. Lewis kept shooting me that annoying, knowing smirk that got under my skin, while he held back the others.

Apparently, we tied the knot in Fiji and were too drunk to remember. I shrugged, giving them an inch.

And now Alex is going to sign divorce papers, Ceri said, an edge of barely controlled anxiety leaking through her determination. So this will all seem like a fever dream soon enough.

She started digging in her handbag. Her long raven hair fell across her face, blocking her expressive eyes from me. That also meant she missed my scowl. The guys did not. They sniggered as they took their seats.

I finally didn’t have to worry about convincing her to marry me. Couldn’t I just enjoy the feeling for an hour before she made me fight for her?

Hold on a minute, Twinkle Toes. I grabbed Ceri’s wrist to stop her rummaging. Before we start talking about something as permanent as a divorce, let’s just catch up first, yeah?

She eyed me suspiciously. And why should I do that?

Maybe I just missed my friend. I grinned as her brows arched in disbelief.

She shook her head, laughing mirthlessly. We were never friends.

I nodded to a quiet table at the far end of the room, away from my nosey bandmates. Indulge me for five minutes, and then we can sort out all this legal mess.

Ceri hesitated, but then sighed. Five minutes. That’s it.

Biting back a triumphant smile, I led her over to a small table and pulled out a chair for her like I used to. She pulled a face at the gesture but took the seat without comment.

What have you been doing with yourself the last eight years? I asked before dropping into the chair opposite her.

One day, I’d thank Langley, the owner, for putting tiny bistro tables in the back room of The Hound. With no effort at all, my knees bracketed Ceri’s. She shifted in her seat, trying and failing to avoid the press of my body against hers.

That innocent contact shouldn’t have even registered, but we’d always been a handsy couple. This light touch only made me itch for more.

Teaching dance mostly. She shrugged.

You teach? I couldn’t hide the disbelief in my tone. But you’re still performing right?

No. She stiffened, her gaze rising no further than my chin. I needed a steady income.

She made a concerted effort not to meet my gaze. I didn’t know where to start, but I couldn’t take being this close to her and not having her eyes on me.

I ducked my head, forcing her to catch my eye. This tame version of Ceri felt foreign. The girl I knew would never settle for ‘steady’ and she swore she’d never teach.

Her grey eyes flashed and her lips twisted in a scowl. Well, people change.

Like fuck did they change that much. I couldn’t even count the number of times I’d had to hold her still after a performance because she couldn’t stop moving.

Or the number of times I’d given up and fucked the adrenaline out of her.

That person would never quit. Not without burying a piece of herself.

Before I could say any of that, Lewis stopped at our table wearing that shit eating grin. I’m braving the bar. Either of you need a drink?

I shouldn’t, Ceri said.

You can’t walk back into our lives after years away and not expect us to want to celebrate. I know you have issues with this asshole. Lewis hooked a finger in my direction. But c’mon, Cez. One drink.

Fine. But it will be just one pint. She crossed her legs beneath the table. Her eyes widened when her foot hooked around my calf. I grinned and she quickly uncrossed them, but a blush already stained her pale cheeks. Focusing hard on Lewis, she said, Just one. That’s all I can handle these days.

Lewis’s brows rose but he didn’t comment on her tolerance decline. Instead, he spun away and disappeared down the corridor with Tom in tow and left me to the enigma that was now Ceri Daniels.

What the hell happened to the carefree adrenaline junkie who could drink me under the table?

What happened to the girl who lived for dancing?

Ceri shifted uncomfortably. She grew up.

Or maybe she’s pretending so the fancy rock fits. I grabbed her hand, holding it up so the dim light of the back room could catch the huge diamond on her finger. Did you decide your ethics meant nothing and toss aside your want for a vintage engagement ring?

Like the white-gold and teal starburst one she’d fawned over in Florence when we were twenty. The one I bought thinking the moment would come one day. It never had.

I sure as shit wouldn’t give up on getting her back just because some wanker had put a shiny rock on her finger. She was mine.

Richard liked this one. She shrugged but any attempt at nonchalance fell flat when her gaze dropped to the table.

I fought a grin. Oh, this is too easy.

Did you tell him you hate how diamonds are made and you’d rather have a vintage ring because of the environmental and human rights issues?

Of course I did. Her eyes flashed and her lips compressed into a hard line.

But he still bought you a new ring. I tilted my head, considering her. Is he the reason you quit performing too?

Jesus, Alex, stop. She dragged a hand through her long, black hair, grimacing at me like it would make me stop.

I shook my head, my lips twitching. And you want to divorce me for this asshole?

He’s not an asshole.

Sweetheart, I don’t know what picture you’re looking at but the one I see says something completely different.

It doesn’t matter, okay? It’s just a ring.

Just a ring?

Who do you think you’re kidding here? It matters to you. I held my hand up when she opened her mouth to argue. "And don’t give me any of that people change bullshit. There’s no way in hell your ethics changed in the last eight years. You used to chew strangers out for their choice in jewellery. That level of passion does not just fade away."

She covered her face, groaning into her hands. You’re impossible.

Hey, I’m just looking out for you.

Well don’t! she snapped, her voice sharp and echoing in the now silent room. You lost that right when you dumped me in the back seat of a taxi to enjoy the spoils of your new fame.

I winced. Young and stupid me would agree with her and back away with his hands up. But I wasn’t the eighteen-year-old who convinced himself that there was no way he’d be able to resist the perks of fame — the endless supply of groupies, the parties, the drugs, all of it. The kid who thought he could walk away for a couple of years and then slot right back into her life.

I was the kid who broke up with the love of his life so he wouldn’t cheat.

It didn’t help that we had management whispering in our ears, determined to mould us into the band they wanted. Before I knew it, I was the bad boy of the band. And honestly, the longer we played along, the more fun I had. Constantly in the gossip rags, groupies screaming at me from the front row and stage doors. If I couldn’t have Ceri yet, what would it hurt?

With my thirtieth birthday fast approaching, my perspective had changed. The waiting had become unbearable.

I was looking out for you that day, and I’m not going to stop now.

I crossed my arms, my gaze tracking to the empty corridor behind Ceri. Where the hell was Lewis? I really needed that fucking drink.

How was — you know what, I don’t care any more. She reached for her bag and ripped a ream of papers out of it. Slamming them down on the table, she fixed me with a hard look. We had a rollercoaster ride, but we’re done, Alex. Just sign the damn papers.

When the act got tiring, I spent years trying to figure out a way to get her back into my life for good once the touring stopped. I’d screwed up so many times, I could never come up with a way to convince her that I meant it this time. I’d loved her once, I still did, and I missed her.

I would give her anything.

Except this.

I’d finally found the solution to my second chance and she expected me to undo my good luck with the swipe of a pen for a tosser who couldn’t be bothered to respect her views and wants? Fat chance.

What else had he disregarded because it didn’t fit him?

No way could she be happy like that, tucking pieces of herself away to suit another person.

I’m not signing anything, I said, keeping my voice low and calm.

If she thought she could walk back into my life after all these years and force me to give her up, she needed to think again.

Somehow I needed to gain more time. An idea formed and it was a really fucking good one. I just had to keep my poker face on and wait for the perfect moment to lure her in.

I sat back in my chair, crossed my arms and waited. It took her a couple of seconds to catch up, then the fireworks went off.

Her eyes flashed, hands curling into fists at her sides. I bit my cheek, suppressing my amusement. Okay, so I loved her but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy winding her up at every turn. Something about that reaction had always turned me on, and now was no different. I shifted in my seat, adjusting myself in my jeans while her glare intensified.

What do you mean you’re not signing? This isn’t a game, Alex! I have a life, a fiancé, a job — responsibilities you know nothing about. I can’t just drop everything for your amusement!

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. A life with some boring banker wanker who doesn’t care about your wants and opinions, you mean. C’mon, you can do better than that. This is fate throwing us back together, don’t you see?

Her adorable brow furrowed. He’s not a banker. He’s an insurance broker.

Same thing. I shook my head. Have you gone completely mental in my absence?

Ceri bristled. So you’re still an arrogant prick? You know nothing about my life now or what I want.

I wasn’t the one trying to mould her to fit some fucked up image of the perfect wife.

Her eyes blazed, staring me down, waiting for an apology I would never give.

But I do. I know you, Cez. Better than anyone. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table, trying to show her just how serious I was. And settling down with some boring suit who doesn’t care about what you want isn’t you. Not the wild, reckless girl I grew up with.

She threw up her hands in exasperation. Unlike you, I’m not stuck in the same careless rut. I want more!

Ouch. She had always known just where to land her punches. I deserved that one, even if I didn’t care to admit it.

Then prove it. I shrugged, refusing to rise to her bait. Prove there’s nothing left between us. If you can convince me after spending three months with me, then and only then will I step aside while you marry your pretend Prince Charming.

She laughed in disbelief. You just can’t stand losing your toy, can you?

You were never my toy. Her brows rose and I rushed on before she could argue. You know damn well how I felt. How I still feel. I messed up, I get that. But don’t tell me you feel nothing. Don’t sit there and say you’re over me, over us, because I won’t believe you.

Ceri fell silent, caught somewhere between outrage and something else. Doubt, maybe. Hopefully I’d planted the seeds; I just needed time now for them to grow.

Three months. I gave her a level stare. If you’re truly over me, prove it. If, after three months on tour, you can honestly tell me you feel nothing, I’ll sign it. I swear.

"You want me to commit to three months on tour with you? She folded her arms, a muscle ticking in her jaw as she stared at me. You must be joking. I have a life, Alex, responsibilities. I can’t just take off on some wild tour for old time’s sake!"

It’s not for old time’s sake. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. How could I make her see this was about more than the past? Beyond how I feel about you, this is me making things right, Ceri. Giving you the big break I took away. A chance to do what we always dreamed of.

Her eyes flickered with longing for the briefest second. That was a long time ago.

I searched her face, looking for any traces of the fearless girl I knew. The one who lived to dance, who spent hours choreographing routines and never wanted to teach.

I gave her a piercing look. Lily would love to have you back too. As if they knew I’d need them, the guys returned from the bar, loaded down with glasses. The guys as well. Right?

They stared