Title: The Story Of Lansing Lotte (Legendary Rockstars #2)
Author: L.B. Dunbar
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: April 28, 2015
I get it. I’ve heard the jokes. My name sounds like some medieval character who was a hero. Hell, my best friend’s named Arturo King. Ring any medieval bells? But this is my story and I’m no hero. I also get the jokes. Lancelot is a play on the words lance and lot, and a lance refers to a sword, which is a euphemism for dick. What does a man do with his dick? He fucks. A lot. So if my name is Lansing Lotte, I must be “fucking lot.” Get it? Fucking a lot? Which I’m not saying I don’t, that’s not the point. Another reference to something sexual. Get my point? Huh, I made a punny. But again this is my story, and I haven’t done anything funny. In fact, I’ve killed three women, and only one of them I loved. Yeah, that’s right? Not laughing now. It’s not funny. And I’m definitely no fucking hero.
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Excerpt“Because I know you love her. It must hurt.” “I…I don’t know that I’m capable of love, Lila. All I seem to do is destroy women, and myself.” She reached a shaky hand for me and pushed my longish bangs back from my forehead. It was surprisingly comforting. “I don’t believe that,” she said. “I think you just have difficulty choosing someone safe.” Her fingers continued through my hair and my muscles relaxed. It was soothing. It was motherly, which should have creeped me out, but didn’t. I don’t know what prompted me, but I laid my head down on her stomach. Her breathing was ragged, and I could hear her heart beat rapidly through the oxford shirt. She was holding her body still, but she continued to gently run her fingers through my hair. She was hesitant at first, almost as if she was petting me, but her fingers slipped into my longer locks and she massaged back and forth over my scalp. I was relaxing into her stomach and my nose nuzzled against her. She was firm under there, and she had that sexy hip thing going on. She sucked in a breath when my nose drew a line back and forth across her belly. My mouth watered to get a taste of those hipbones just below her navel. She was dragging her fingers through my hair more intently, and I slid my face down her belly. She had a sweet fragrance about her, something flowery and something I wasn’t certain of at first. Instantly, I recognized that Lila smelled like sex. My hand came up to remove the blanket from her legs and I heard her sigh. Her hand wrapped into my hair, tugging gently, and I took it as a sign to continue moving down her body. Her legs opened slightly and my nose dragged closer to my destination. “You smell sexy, Lila.” She sighed again and a choked sound followed. My eyes glanced up to discover hers were closed. Her head leaned back and her lips parted. I dragged my nose across her damp panties, inhaling her sweetness. “You want me?” I breathed against her, knowing she was wet and ready for me under the cotton. I couldn’t believe it. Lila gave no hint that she was attracted me. She was well aware that I was continually turned on around her, but she gave me no indication that she could be attracted to me. Unless… “We’re friends, right, Lila?” I said, a bit of curiosity in my voice. She sighed again and I blew a breath onto her. Her arousal was heady, and I was intoxicated by her. “We could be friends. Together. It would be a good distraction.” I kissed her over the cotton and I felt her sit upright. She looked drugged; her eyes glassy and confused. “I can’t,” she said on a choke. “What?” I softly groaned. “I…I can’t do this with you.” “Lila, I didn’t mean…” She was pushing back into the corner of the couch, forcing me to sit upright. She grabbed the blanket off the floor to cover her, but then decided to stand. “Lila, I…” “I can’t compete with ghosts, Lansing.” “Lila, it’s not like…” “I know all about ghosts…and I can’t fight them whether dead…or alive,” Lila added, as she held the blanket before her legs like a shield and quickly turned to leave me stunned on the couch.
About The Author
L.B. Dunbar loves to read to the point it might be classified as an addiction. The past few years especially she has relished the many fabulous YA authors, the new genre of New Adult, traditional romances, and historical romances. A romantic at heart, she’s been accused of having an overactive imagination, as if that was a bad thing. Author of the Sensations Collection, Sound Advice, Taste Test, Fragrance Free, Touch Screen, and the upcoming Sight Words, she is also author of the Legendary Rock Star series, beginning with The Legend of Arturo King. She grew up in Michigan, but has lived in Chicago for longer, calling it home with her husband and four children.
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The Story of Lansing Lotte: excerpt (chapter 1)
I could feel my head throbbing. Both of them.
The night before was a fuzzy mash of images in my brain, as I recalled the concert. My band, The Nights, were rocking The Round Table something fierce and the crowd was thumping. I remembered the muted bright lights and the energy of the music I produced on my guitar next to the lead singer and my best friend, Arturo King, while the girls screamed in response to Arturo’s voice. Regardless of Arturo’s recent engagement, the ladies still loved the Chivalrous Lover. They equally called out for me and my guitar playing as well though, and I loved the attention. There was no better high than the cry of a crowd cheering you on.
On the opposite side of the stage, focused on his bass guitar was Tristan Lyons. He had model-like features and his nickname was the Heartbreaker. He went through girls like they were food to be savored and devoured, and his followers were nicknamed flavors. He enjoyed the variety of woman who came his way and he never dappled in the same flavor twice.
Behind us had been Perkins Vale, who the band called Perk, and his enthusiasm for playing the drummers equaled his name. He was big and often played with his shirt off, exposing the detailed tattoo of a shield on his chest and across his left shoulder. His dark short hair shoved to his head, gave the impression of someone serious and intense, but he was the contrary. That’s why things went askew.
I remembered Arturo and Perk having some kind of conversation between their eyes, but I was more focused on the fact that Mel Agent had somehow gotten into The Round Table. Last night was a private function as a fundraiser for women of domestic violence hosted by none other than Arturo’s mother, Ingrid Tintagel, and her foundation WomenFirst. Mel Agent was the lead singer of a rival band, who had become his own entity and now one of the Night’s sworn enemies. I despised the man for his behavior toward woman and at that moment he seemed to be interested in a young thing with jet black hair.
She didn’t look like the typical girl to be in the club. She didn’t look like the typical girl to follow a band. Her oversized army jacket covered her small body and her delicate hands clenched the coat closed over her chest. Mel Agent looked deep in conversation with the girl who was holding her own, but that’s when Arturo’s dark eyes started addressing Perk.
Only the practiced ear of the band knew that Perk slipped as he played. He was off a beat for just a second, but recovered quickly. I was trying to question Arturo with my own unspoken glance, but Arturo was too focused on Perk. When the set ended, Arturo and Perk immediately hit the side stage. Both men moved quickly through the crowd, parting ways as I realized that Guinevere DeGrance was in the path of Mel Agent as well. I felt that familiar ping in my heart, and I looked away before I could see the guilt in Guinevere’s eyes.
I was quick to follow them and pull Guinevere from Mel’s immediate vicinity. It seemed I was continually saving her from that man. Tristan had grabbed Arturo and was forcing him back as well. We didn’t need an altercation in the middle of the crowd, and Perk seemed to have the situation under control. A situation that clearly involved trying to free another woman from under the evil intentions of Mel Agent.
I waited in the wings with Tristan and Arturo as Arturo barked out orders to give him my bike and for Tristan to take Guinie home. I knew Arturo sensed something between Guinie and I, and he refused to ask me for help when it came to her. Arturo paused for only a moment to continue what looked like an argument with his girlfriend, no his fiancée, before Perk and he disappeared completely, leaving Tristan and I to entertain the endless questions of where had the other two gone. Tristan and I could hold our own, though, and we did, with continuous shots and free flowing drinks.
I was sure that’s how I ended up here – in bed. I tried to open my eyes which seemed too heavy. The pressure on my temples was a rhythm stronger than Perk’s drumming, but the feeling of warmth and moisture on my lower head made me moan. The suction increased and I felt my leaden hands travel into the hair of my capturer.
I could remember snapshots of the night and the countless women leaning up against me. The laughter of female voices and the whispers of desire in my ear were muted by the loud sound of the other bands playing in the background. The numerous lips burned my skin subtly on my cheek and neck from stolen kisses by aggressive fan-girls.
I had only wanted one girl to be a fan. And she was refusing.
I was awakening slowly and the dream I was having moments before I regained consciousness was still visible in my mind. Fresh lips were on mine. Hands entwined in soft hair. Sounds moaned of pleasure. I had a vague sense that some of the dream had been a reality, but I couldn’t bring my mind to focus clearly on whether any of it had been true.
I should have been ashamed. She was. She was embarrassed by how she responded to me. I had responded to her years before, and I had never forgotten. Despite her denying now that the first kiss had been intense, I knew she was lying. She kissed me back after all that happened, and I wanted her. I couldn’t help it.
As my hands gripped female hair gently and finger nails tickled my hips, my eyes began to peel open. I took in the dim sunlight beginning to break the darkness in the room. The ceiling was grayed in shadow, and I rotated my head on a soft pillow to get a whiff of stale roses and observe the light pink of sheets.
My eyes opened fully as I realized I didn’t recognize the room painted in a pale rose color and accented with frilly curtains over the shade covered window. My eyes traveled down my naked body to the head of my temptress. Her hair fell forward, veiling her as she worked me with her mouth. My hands coiled in her hair; I couldn’t quite distinguish the color.
My concentration returned to what this temptress was doing between my legs and I let my eyes roll back as I dreamt of the woman who kissed my mouth with lush lips now using those lips to suck me off. I was ready to burst and I tightened my clasp of her hair, warning her softly with the words I’m ready.
As the liquid strength in me ejected down her throat, I growled like a prayer, “Fuck, Guinie,” as I looked down at the head over my manhood to meet green eyes, not blue.
“Elaine?” I questioned.