Unsung

Book 6: A Country Roads Novel

by Shannon Richard

Genres: Coming of Age; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

One Night in Nashville Harper Laurence has been jilted on her way to the altar. Desperate for some time away from her friends and family, Harper takes off for Nashville-only to meet a hot, scruffy, tattooed stranger. A man she liked a little too much, and who left her the teeniest bit . . . well, pregnant. Liam James is an up-and-coming country musician, who just found his muse. Ever since their weekend together, Liam hasn't been able to forget the curvy, vivacious woman who left him wanting more, even as she inspired some of the greatest songs he's ever written. He's determined to convince Harper that he's the guy for her . . . and that the best love songs can never be unsung. "Richard's page-turner marks her as a contemporary-romance author to watch." -- Publisher's Weekly on Undone

Release date: November 3, 2015

Publisher: Forever Yours

Print pages: 402

Sample

Prologue

June 20th

The crowd of people in the ballroom of the Brogan-Meyers Hotel was only getting thicker as the minutes passed. The space was packed with men in tuxes and women in designer dresses of varying lengths. Some gowns trailed along the floor, perilously close to getting trampled on, while others had barely enough fabric to cover the women wearing them.

Harper Laurence’s dress was somewhere in the middle. The midnight blue fabric clung to every single curve of her body, the neckline dipping just low enough to show her very impressive cleavage without being too immodest. Add to that the fact that it made her violet eyes pop, and looked pretty spectacular with her long black hair if she did say so herself.

Or she would’ve said so if it had been a few months ago.

She’d grabbed the dress when she’d been packing. It had been a magic dress before tonight and she’d always been able to rock it with every ounce of her confidence.

But said confidence was gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

She’d had it before. Before she’d been left by her fiancé. Before she’d taken a trip to Tennessee to get away. Before she’d fallen in love with a stranger.

But was he really a stranger?

No. Not by the end. Not when everything was all said and done. Not when she’d turned tail and ran scared. But he’d broken the rules…and so had she.

The rules had been so simple. Well, rule really. There’d just been the one: nothing personal.

But she’d been fooling herself from the moment she’d met him. Everything about their time together had been personal. Every moment she’d spent with him. How was it that she’d fallen faster and harder for him in two days, felt more for him in those hours than she ever had for her ex? How was that even possible?

And now everything was five thousand times more complicated.

What had she been thinking coming here?

Her stomach rolled and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose and counting her breaths until the nausea subsided to a tolerable level. When she opened her eyes it was to find Mel making her way over, a champagne glass in each hand.

Melanie Hart was one of Harper’s best friends and the reason she was at the party in the first place. A party of beyond attractive athletes, celebrities within elbow rubbing distance no matter where she stood, a handful of very important politicians, and even a Nobel Peace Prize winner. But as the Jacksonville Stampede had just won the Stanley Cup, it was a reason to celebrate. A distraction as Mel had put it.

A distraction from Harper’s current predicament? Impossible. There wasn’t anything that could detract from what was occupying her brain.

Harper raised an eyebrow as Mel passed her a glass.

“It’s ginger ale. Maybe that will calm your stomach,” Mel said as she brushed one of her short blond curls behind her ear.

“Maybe.” Harper nodded, not feeling confident in that prospect at all.

“Come on. Let’s go find my husband and the boys before they get into trouble.” Mel grabbed Harper’s hand and led her across the room. Good thing, too, because the crowd of people was thick and it wouldn’t take a lot to get lost among them.

Her eyes caught on a couple in the corner, the woman obviously pregnant and the man resting his hand on her belly as he whispered in her ear, grinning. The sight made her both sad and envious beyond reason.

She tipped the glass of soda back, wishing it were something much stronger. The bubbles popped against her nose and lips as the cold liquid hit her tongue.

Mel’s pace slowed and her grip on Harper’s hand loosened. Mel was talking and Harper turned her head at the sound of her own name being said.

Her eyes landed on the man directly across from her and she choked on her sip of soda, coughing uncontrollably.

He was here. The rule-breaking stranger was standing right in front of her, the green-gold gaze that she knew so well focused on her.

Yup, there was nothing in the world that could calm her stomach now. No more hiding from the reality she was going to have to face head on in this moment. No more running away.

It was Liam. He’d found her.

Chapter One

May 8th…six weeks earlier

Sometimes in life, there are moments of grief that are so deep and thick that a person can’t possibly see the other side. Moments where it seems impossible that the future could hold something even a fraction better than the past.

And in those moments there was only one thing that could help.

Tequila.

At least that was Harper’s philosophy on the matter and how she had every intention of spending the weekend that would’ve been her wedding. Because really, what else was a person supposed to do when they’d been jilted at the altar?

Okay, maybe not literally at the altar…but three months to the altar, and that was close enough by her calculations. Especially as she and her fiancé Brad Nelson had been planning the wedding for seven months.

Seven. Fucking. Months.

Locations had been confirmed, deposits had been paid, save the dates sent out, and her two-thousand-dollar dream wedding dress customer ordered to perfection.

Per-fec-tion.

Not that it mattered anymore. The dress had been sold to the highest bidder on eBay, a whopping five hundred dollars. But whatever, it was no longer in her apartment staring her down every time she walked by.

Brad had been kind enough to leave everything for Harper to take care of in the cancellation department. Such a gem. But at least he’d left Mirabelle, packed up his stuff and taken a job in Louisiana so she didn’t have to worry about running into him at the grocery store. Because if she did she just might run him over.

Or at the very least clip him with her car.

She’d worked past the grieving stage of things—for the most part—and now she was just angry about it. Really angry. But it was hard to move on when just about everyone in her town of Mirabelle, Florida, knew what had happened.

With a population of a little more than five thousand, there were very few degrees of separation between anyone. Someone knew someone who knew someone. And courtesy of the ever-awful—and Mirabelle’s resident gossip hag—Bethelda Grimshaw, Harper’s jilting had been sensationalized to a point that was hard for anyone to ignore.

Bethelda had once worked for the local newspaper, and when her human-interest pieces morphed into a nasty tell-all about the residents’ less than savory business, she’d been fired. Now she had a blog where she spread her poison, and though she changed the names—which in no way protected the innocent—everyone always knew exactly who she was talking about.

It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours when Harper and Brad’s breakup hit the blog page, and the story had haunted Harper for the last three months.

If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times, no one is going to buy the cow if they can get the milk for free. And my words of wisdom have yet again proven true with the case of Voluptuous V. and her hightailing ex-fiancé Human Ken Doll.

Voluptuous V. (or VV for short, which is probably the girl’s bra size) was given the old heave-ho. Ho being the operative word here. And I feel bad for the girl, really I do, but what did she expect? Ken was out of her league to begin with.

I mean when it comes right down to it, a civil engineer with three degrees under his belt isn’t going to settle down or settle with a woman whose talents are purely physical. Now I’m not saying that VV used her “massage” skills to seduce him, but I’m not not saying it, either.

I would imagine that VV’s skills must be extensive, because it took Ken a year and a half to see the light of day. And as soon as he did he packed up his things and headed out for different horizons.

And as to the incident that ignited his speedy getaway? I’m not exactly sure what happened to make the man remove his blinders. But what I can tell you is that it happened right after her bridal shower.

Maybe it was the china pattern that set him off, or the color of the bathroom towels, or the idea of waking up in floral sheets next to the same woman for the rest of his life. Who knows?

But what we do know is that come May 9th, VV will not be walking down the aisle to marry the man of her dreams…nor will she be walking down the aisle to marry the man who almost settled for her.

The real kicker? Bethelda’s article hadn’t been too far from the reality of the “incident.” It had in fact been right after Harper’s bridal shower. But it hadn’t been china, or bedding, or towels that had set him off.

Nope. It had been a potato masher.

They’d been loading up his car with all of the gifts from her shower when he grabbed it out of a bag. He held the utensil in the air, his brow furrowed quizzically.

“What is this?”

To be fair to the guy—something she was in no way inclined to be—the shape was odd. A handle connected to a weird metal wave that somewhat resembled a heartbeat on a monitor.

“You use it to mash potatoes.”

“Oh.” He nodded before he’d put it back in the bag, and that furrowed look on his brow only got more pronounced.

It was a five-minute drive from where the bridal shower had been to Harper’s apartment. They hadn’t even gone a mile when they were stopped at a red light.

She asked him what he wanted for dinner.

He told her he didn’t want to get married.

How did he get from Point A to Point B? Apparently the potato masher made him think about the holidays. Thanksgiving and Christmas with family all gathered around a table, turkey and stuffing and stupid mashed potatoes all piled high. He’d pictured it all quite clearly…and Harper hadn’t been a part of it.

As they’d never officially moved in together—her mother would’ve had a fit—it didn’t take him very long to get his stuff out of her apartment. He left Mirabelle two weeks later. She might not have to deal with him living in the same town anymore, but she did have to deal with the pity from just about everyone she knew.

And that was why Harper was currently in Nashville, Tennessee, free from her mostly well-intentioned friends and family—complete with hovering/overbearing mother—and their looks of concern. She loved them all dearly, but she just couldn’t deal with it. And to be honest it was hard to be around them.

Her friends were all settled and popping out babies like it was their business. And she was happy for them. Really she was. She’d just wanted all of that with Brad. He’d been part of her dream…she just hadn’t been part of his.

And that was why tequila was on the agenda for the evening that would’ve been her rehearsal dinner. She was meeting up with her aunt at the Second Hand Guitar, Harper’s go-to bar in Nashville.

Celeste Angelo was not only Harper’s favorite aunt—and current sanctuary provider—but she was also a renowned obstetrician who specialized in high-risk pregnancies. Women from all over the United States came to her to save not only their babies’ lives, but sometimes their own.

Celeste was the only woman in Harper’s life who was happily unmarried. She and her longtime boyfriend Reed were more than satisfied with their separate houses and bank accounts.

Maybe there was something to be said about that.

But she wasn’t going to think about any of that tonight. Nope, tonight was about forgetting.

It was a little before ten o’clock when Harper walked into the building. She made her way through the crowd and to the square bar that sat at the back of the room. A couple got up from two seats on the side corner and made their way over to the dance floor where a live band played from the stage. A girl was belting out a fast-paced song while she strummed on her guitar, a guy sang backup and played base, while another guy beat out a steady rhythm on the drums behind them.

The Second Hand Guitar was one of Harper’s favorite places to come when she was in Nashville, with its exposed brick walls, hardwood floors, and constant stream of occupants that made people-watching thoroughly entertaining. Not to mention the selection of alcohol was excellent. There were about thirty taps lined up behind the bar, and shelves of more assorted hard liquor than she could count.

It was her second favorite bar after her local watering hole the Sleepy Sheep, owned and run by one of her close friends, Nathanial Shepherd. He was like the alcohol whisperer, could tell someone what they wanted before they even opened their mouth. And his ability would be nice in this moment because Harper wasn’t sure what to get. Though tequila was on the agenda for the evening, she figured she and her aunt should start with something lighter.

By the time the bartender made his way over to her, she settled on a mild beer with vanilla and orange undertones and ordered two. The second he turned around to go get the drinks her phone vibrated on the bar in front of her. She grabbed it and looked at the screen to see a message from her aunt, her heart sinking somewhere around her navel as she read.

Emergency surgery on patient. Can’t make it. So sorry. I WILL see you tomorrow and we will drink in style and excess my sweet niece. Love you, Cee.

Harper didn’t even get a second to process the fact that she was now going to be spending the evening alone when someone came up next to her. She turned to find a guy with unkempt blond hair, a faded flannel shirt over a dirty white tank top, and a neck tattoo that said Bubba blocking her view. He was leaning against the bar and looking right at Harper.

Fantastic…not only had she been stood up but she had to deal with this on top of it? Don’t get her wrong, she was a fan of tattoos in certain locations, but neck tattoos of this caliber required a special level of I-ain’t-ever-gonna-be-a-functioning-member-of-the-workforce crazy.

“I was so distracted by that banging body of yours that I ran into that wall over there,” he said as he pointed to the wall behind him. “So I’m gonna need that name and number of yours for insurance reasons.”

Oh. Dear. God. No. Just no.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to claim a hit and run,” a deep voice drawled from behind her.

Harper spun on her stool, her back now to the bar, to find a very different sort of man than Bubba. The sort of man she really wouldn’t mind hitting on her in the least bit—if she was ready for that sort of thing…which she so obviously was not.

But ready or not, she could still appreciate his strong jaw covered in day-old stubble, dark brown hair long enough for a woman to run her fingers through and get a little lost in the process, and green-gold eyes that were focused on her.

The bartender returned at that moment, sliding both drinks onto the counter and Sexy ’n Scruffy reached across her, handing the bartender a bill before grabbing both of the beers. He gave one to Harper before he held his up in the air.

“Thanks for ordering, babe.” His mouth quirked to the side—flashing the kind of grin that made her thankful for the fact that she was already sitting down—before he brought the glass to his mouth and took a sip. He lowered it a moment later and made a sound of satisfaction that set her imagination on fire, not to mention the way he was looking at her.

Good God, the amount of intensity directed at her should be illegal. When his eyes left hers a moment later she realized she’d been holding her breath. Though she found herself disappointed by the fact that he was no longer looking at her, it was good that she was breathing again.

Sexy ’n Scruffy’s eyes were now focused on a spot over her shoulder, presumably at Bubba. She wasn’t quite sure as she couldn’t pull her gaze away from his face to check. “You should move along now.”

“No harm, no foul,” Bubba said before he went off to find another victim.

Sexy ’n Scruffy’s attention was now back on Harper as he took another sip of beer. “Good choice,” he nodded as he slid onto the empty stool next to her.

“Glad you approve of my beer that you’re drinking.”

“Your beer?” He gave her that tilted grin again. “I believe I paid, after saving you from Recently Paroled over there.”

“Saved me?”

“Yup, he was about to ask for your social and bank account information.”

“That man wasn’t going to get anything personal out of me.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

“So what, you want a thank-you for saving me?” she asked, raising her eyebrow before she brought her glass to her mouth and took her first sip of beer.

“Nope, no thank-you required. Just doing my civic duty. But it would be nice to know your name.”

“Oh, so you’re just going to start up where Bubba left off?” She set her glass on the bar before she placed both of her elbows on the edge of the wood and leaned her head against her hands.

“Nah,” he said as he shook his head. “I just wanted to know so that when I tell this story years from now, people will know the name of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

Harper threw her head back and laughed. When she looked at him again she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Wow, that was a line if I’ve ever heard one.”

He shook his head again, leaning in close to her, his intense gaze locked on her eyes. “Oh, you want a line? ‘Do you have a map? Because I’m getting lost in your eyes.’ That’s a line. Now as to you being beautiful? That’s a fact.”

She’d be lying if she said those words hadn’t made her heart race just a little bit…or a lotta bit.

He pulled back and took another drink of his beer, swallowing as he lowered the glass. “Who was this beer intended for anyway?”

“My aunt. Who just got stuck at work. Life of a doctor though.”

“So really I’m just saving it from going to waste and saving you from getting hit on by any more guys with neck tats.”

“I guess you are.” And there was that smile taking over her face again. What the hell was going on?

“So what’s it going to be? Do I have to share this beer with a nameless stranger?”

“I’m not telling you anything personal, either.”

He leaned in close again, a seriousness in his gaze that she somehow knew to be sincere. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Over the years she’d given out her fair share of fake names, and it was on the tip of her tongue to give him one tonight. But to her complete and utter shock, when she opened her mouth her name fell out.

“Harper.”

“Harper,” he repeated slowly, his eyes traveling over her face like he was not only memorizing her name but everything about her.

The scrutiny almost made her squirm. Almost. But Harper Laurence was made of much sterner stuff than that. Or at least she sure as hell hoped so.

“I’m Liam.” He put his beer on the bar and held out his hand. Before she could think better of it, she was putting her palm in his. His long fingers wrapped around her hand, his skin warm on hers and somehow traveling up and over her, like she was settling into a steaming bath or wrapping herself in a blanket straight out of the dryer.

Apparently she wasn’t as numb as she thought.

Oh, this was going to be bad…or really, really good. She was just going to have to see now wasn’t she?

*  *  *

The second the front door of the cabin closed Harper found herself pushed up against the wall. She only had a moment to take in the rich wooden floors and walls that stretched out from the entryway to the living room.

But as she was now looking up into warm green-gold eyes and pinned against said wall by the solid weight of a perfectly muscled, attractive-as-sin man, she found that she really couldn’t care less about the décor. Or anything else for that matter.

All she cared about in that moment was Liam. He was all she’d cared about since he’d grabbed that beer from the bar.

They hadn’t stopped with that first drink, either. She’d gotten her shots of tequila, and Liam had been right there next to her, licking the salt and sucking the lime. But neither of them had gotten crazy; they’d paced themselves up to a nice little buzz.

And then somewhere around midnight he’d leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“You know a place we can get a burger? I’m starving.” Dinner had seemed like ages ago and she usually always got the munchies when she drank anyway.

He’d smiled as he grabbed her hand and led her out of the bar. They walked two blocks to a twenty-four-hour diner where they’d both not only gotten a burger and fries, but the best chocolate malt milk shakes she’d ever had in her life. They then sat there for three hours and talked.

When he asked questions that bled too far into the personal side—career, where she was from, why she was in Nashville—she’d just shake her head and he’d move on to something else.

She told him about her French bulldog Luna, named so because of the crescent moon shape on the dog’s chest. The spot was the only white on her otherwise entirely black body. He told her about his love for music. They discussed a whole lot of nothing really…yet, it didn’t feel like nothing.

Which was probably how she’d ended up going back to his house with him. She’d never gone back to some guy’s house that she’d just met. But when three o’clock rolled around—and they were both stone-cold sober—she hadn’t been ready for the night to end.

Hadn’t been ready to say good-bye.

And that was why she was currently pinned up against the wall with his chest—and other glorious body parts—pressing into hers.

“God you smell incredible. What is that?” he asked as he put his hands on either side of her head and leaned in, skimming his nose across her neck as he inhaled.

“Honey.”

“Honey?” he asked, pulling back and raising his eyebrows.

“Honey-scented lotion.”

“It’s been driving me crazy all night.” He moved in closer, breathing her in again before he straightened and his eyes met hers. “I’m going to kiss you now. So if you have any problems with that, you should speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The wording of his statement was not lost on her, but she chose to ignore it. Tonight was all about the present. All about being in the moment with this man who clearly desired her. That was what she was choosing to focus on.

So did she have any problems with him kissing her? Why no, no she did not.

She ran her hands up the front of his shirt before she placed her palms flat on his chest. The handle of her clutch was looped around her wrist and it swayed to the side of them.

“No objections.” She shook her head. “I’ve been wondering what you were waiting for.”

He tilted his head to the side and gave her a wicked grin that had her imagining him doing other things with that mouth of his besides kissing.

He leaned in close, his mouth little more than a breath away before he veered off course and brought his lips to her ear. “I was waiting to get you alone, Harper. I knew the second I tasted you I’d want everything and I wouldn’t be able to stop until I got it all.”

Her breath hitched at his words and her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, holding him tight.

He grazed her earlobe with his teeth before he trailed kisses down her jaw, his scruff rasping against her skin before he covered her mouth with his. His tongue dipped in past her lips, and the second it touched hers she understood exactly what he’d said.

She wanted everything, too.

His hands were no longer on the wall; one was palming her breast, the other her ass. Considering Harper’s more than ample curves, he was getting two very nice handfuls. And if she had any doubts as to how much he wanted her, they were long gone as he shifted his body and his erection pressed into her thigh.

He pulled his mouth back from hers, breathing hard as he looked at her. “Damn. You taste like honey, too. So much better than I imagined.” He nipped at her bottom lip before he soothed it with a kiss. “Still no objections?”

“I’m objectionless.”

“Thank. God.” And just like that both of his hands were on her ass and he was picking her up in one swift move, her legs wrapping around his waist.

Now Harper wasn’t a tiny thing, not by any means. She was a healthy size ten with D breasts, and shapely hips with a butt to match. So it would be an understatement to say that she was impressed by the fact that he picked her up and carried her through the cabin like she was nothing. She would’ve said so, too, but her mouth was occupied with his tongue again.

She was vaguely aware of the fact that the light from the living room was fading as they moved down the unlit hallway. Her shoulder and back brushed against a half-open door and it gave way, moving back and allowing them entry as he pushed both of their bodies through it. She dropped her hand, letting her clutch fall to the floor where it made an audible thunk on the wood.

A moment later she was flat on her back, Liam firmly wedged between her thighs, her legs locked around his waist, and her ankles cupping his ass. His cock pressed into the apex of her thighs and she couldn’t help but move, rubbing herself against him and making him groan.

He pulled back from her mouth and looked down at her. A minimal amount of light from the living room was making its way into the bedroom, and his face was mostly in shadow, which was a damn shame. His slightly long and gloriously thick brown hair was hanging in his eyes. She reached up—she couldn’t stop herself—and brushed his hair back, running her fingers across his forehead before she traced his hairline.

She could just make out his grin as he reached up and grabbed her hand. He pulled it from his head and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips to her wrist. He found her other hand on his shoulder and did the same thing, kissing that wrist, too, before he moved both of her hands up and above her head, pinning them to the bed.

“Drop your legs,” he whispered as he moved his hands down the length of her arms.

She obeyed without even thinking, and he grinned again before he buried his face in her neck, opening his mouth wide on her throat. He shifted down her body, his hands now making their way along her sides while his lips moved across to the center of her chest.

“Did you know that your breasts are magnificent?” he asked before he bit the top of her shirt and pulled it down, exposing more of her chest.

She didn’t get a chance to respond before he dipped his tongue between the very top of her cleavage. The only sound she made was a long low moan that filled the room.

Liam’s hands were now under the hem of her shirt, his magic fingers on her bare stomach tracing circles as he moved up. He lifted his mouth from her breasts as he pushed her shirt up and over her head, her still outstretched arms making it all the easier.

He threw it to the side before he looked down at her, and she could just make out his head shaking from side to side. “Well, this just won’t do. I can’t see you.”

He moved, sitting up and shifting to the side. Three clicks echoed in the room before a soft glow filled the space.

“That’s better,” he said as he settled back into his kneeling position between her legs.

He reached up and popped the top b. . .