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She stuck out her tongue at me. "Both. Anyway, when was the last time we went to a concert? If we're not careful, we'll end up old and boring, and wished we'd done more with our lives."
"Speak for yourself," I said. "I have no intention of ever being old and boring."
"No one could ever accuse either of you of being boring," Cam said. "Or me. Eva has a point though. We haven't been to a concert for ages."
I glanced at my phone again. "I should get going or I'll be late. Maybe I can talk these rock stars out of a few tickets for us." I didn't know who they were, just what they did for a living. The label hired me and set me the address, all I knew was the name of the band’s manager, Roman DiMarco. Honestly, who cared who they were? Not me. If this went well, they might hire me for other gigs: album covers, photo shoots like today, stuff like that. It could be the start of something amazing.
Eva grinned. "That would be awesome. Maybe you can get a couple of phone numbers for Cam."
Cam rolled her eyes.
"That wouldn't be very professional of me would it?" I asked. "I'd probably get fired on the spot."
Eva's face fell. "Well, don't do that then. I mean, unless they offer." The smile was back on her wide mouth.
I shook my head at her. "You're gonna get me in a whole bunch are trouble one of these days."
I was perfectly capable of finding trouble by myself. Thank you very much.
Cam sighed and stood. “I should go, I have a meeting across town I have to get to.”
“Anyone famous?” Eva asked.
“You know I couldn’t tell you if it was,” Cam replied.
I scooped up my bag and phone and followed them to the door.
Start the Rock Dragons series here with Crashed, and find out who Tilly falls for: https://books2read.com/RockDragons1
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ABOUT LIZZI STONE
Lizzi Stone is the pen name for two USA Today Bestselling authors who love sports, sexy men, strong women and coffee, lots and lots of coffee! For giveaways, new releases and deals follow Lizzi on Facebook @lizzistoneauthor.
THROTTLE ME
SUSAN STRADIOTTO
Throttle Me © 2022 Susan Stradiotto
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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BLURB
Nothin’s cozy about this small town
Bou
Ridge life is all I’ve ever known, where the land is harsh and the men harsher. On the Arizona map, my tiny hometown is Park Ridge, but we call it The Ridge. There’s only one enterprise in the middle-of-nowhere between LA, Phoenix, Vegas, and the Mexican border—running drugs—and the local MC has the market cornered. Even the town cop answers to the prez.
I’m Bou, pronounced like a ghost sound or Boo Radley. It’s short for something I don’t talk about—ever. The Ridge might not sound like a fun place, but it’s home, and I hold my own with my buddies Smith and Wesson. I’ve grown to love my little corner of the world, the red sands at sunrise, and the solitude of a desert night. People don’t pass through the Ridge, so when a stranger crashes his bike outside my shop, it’s clear. Ridge life is about to change.
