Excerpt: 'Wicked White' by Michelle A. Valentine

Michelle A. Valentine shares a scene from her new release, Wicked White, the first book in the Wicked White series.

About the book (courtesy of Montlake Romance):

After his mother dies, rock star Ace White—lead singer of the red-hot band Wicked White—is done with the celebrity game. The phony people, the meaningless one-night stands: he doesn't want any of it anymore. Quitting in the middle of a sold-out tour, Ace sets out to find some place—any place—where he can be alone.

Aspiring singer Iris Easton's life has never been easy. First, her mother walked out on her when she was a kid. Now she's buried in debt, weeks after losing her beloved grandmother. When a mysterious and sexy new guy moves in next door, Iris can't help but be drawn to his soulful gaze. She can tell there's something from his past haunting him—something he's not telling her.

Just as Ace starts falling for Iris, the media go on a worldwide hunt to find the missing rocker. Will true love conquer all, or will the truth be the very thing that tears the couple apart?

Michelle sets the scene for us …

Michelle: This is one of my favorite scenes in the book. It really shows how our heroine, Iris, is insanely attracted to the hero in this story, Ace, and can't help but to check him out. It really sets the tone for the entire novel. I love the fact that her best friend is there, too, calling her out on her stalkerish tendencies when it comes to Ace. The dialogue between these two women always makes me giggle, and Birdie is such a great character. She completely steals the show with her witty comebacks every time she and Iris have their little talks, but she's also a huge influence on Iris throughout the book.

EXCERPT

I pull back the curtain just enough so that I can stare outside at my astonishingly sexy new neighbor as he washes his motorcycle. His bronze hair reflects a lot of the subtle undertones that snake through it as he stands in the sunlight with his red flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. His dark-washed jeans hug his tight backside while he inspects every inch of the machine in front of him, and it causes me to bite my lip. It's been a week since he moved in, and I still don't know a single thing about him other than the fact he's absurdly handsome and kind of an a**hole. I can't figure him out—why a guy like him is not only single but such a recluse.

"He's going to catch you stalking him," Birdie says as she pours a cup of coffee.

Immediately, I let the white curtain fall back into place and fire back, "I'm not stalking him."

She raises one eyebrow at me and smirks as she fills another cup. "Um, have you forgotten who you're talking to here? I can always tell when you're lying. Your nose twitch gives you away every time."

I stop midtwitch and huff as I walk over and pick up the cup she's set out for me and throw a scoop of sugar in with a dash of French vanilla creamer. "I'm not stalking him, exactly. It's more like a nagging curiosity about him that just won't go away. He's not from around here, and I can't figure out why a guy that looks like him would ever want to move into that run-down place next door."

Birdie shakes her head as she leans against the counter. "You saying this place isn't good enough for him? It's good enough for us, why not him?"

I swallow down a sip of the piping-hot liquid from my cup. "Did you see the bike he rode in on? And how about those clothes? I've seen flannel shirts and detailed stitched jeans like the ones he wears—they aren't cheap. It seems like he can afford more than a four-hundred-dollar-a-month trailer in the middle of nowhere."

She sighs. "You don't know him, Iris. He could be a total creeper running from the law or something. Just because he's hot doesn't mean he doesn't have a f***ed-up past. If you're smart, you'd give him the privacy he's obviously after. Getting mixed up with a guy like him is bad news."

"You're probably right, but I can't help being curious," I admit.

Birdie stares at me over her coffee cup. "That curiosity might lead you to trouble. You need to nip that s*** in the butt."

I laugh. "You mean bud." She waves me off dismissively. "Bud—butt. You know what I meant." A short time later, Birdie heads out for work. When I walk her to the door, I notice my reclusive next-door neighbor still outside, waxing his bike. I lean against the door frame and wave good-bye as my best friend hops in her car and pulls away while honking the horn.

The commotion catches Ace's attention and he glances back to where I'm standing. When his gaze locks with mine, my breath actually catches, and I wonder if he and I should start over since we aren't exactly on neighborly terms.

I lift my hand in greeting, but quickly jerk it down when his expression turns into a blatant scowl pointed in my direction.

I huff, completely put off by his utter rudeness, and slam the door. What's his freaking problem? I've never in my life had someone be such an ass to me. The angry roar of his motorcycle coming to life rumbles the thin walls of my trailer as he mashes the gas and heads down the road. Maybe Birdie is right. Ace Johnson could very well be hiding something, and I think it's my duty as the new owner of Willow Acres to find out just what that could be, whether he likes me or not.

Find out more about Michelle and her books at michelleavalentine.blogspot.com.