Rock Hardest -Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies Series Read Online Jamie Knight

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Rock Hardest - Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies Series

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jamie Knight

Language:
English
Book Information:

If you could record my heartbeat, it would be thumping hard for him.
Sven is the sound engineer for a record label. And he’s as hot as the bands they put out.
He makes the music happen for fans behind the scenes. And he makes the magic happen for me in bed. We have to keep things on the downlow though. Because I work as the receptionist for the studio.
At first, I’m happy to be his dirty little secret. I let him take my dress down and then tie me up. But I soon find myself wanting more.
And I can’t help but think he feels the same. Especially when he takes me to celebrate a new album. And then he fills me up with more than just excitement.
Does he only want me as his secret pet? Or is he trying to become the father of my child?
****Rock Hardest is a box set duo of two steamy rock star romance books, featuring bad boy bandmates and babies! The books included are Hot Guitarist’s Secret Baby and Under His Dominance.
****Every book in this series is a standalone that can be read on its own but that is also connected to the other books in the series by the setting of a record label in Seattle and by characters who are friends.
Books by Author:

Jamie Knight



Hot Guitarist’s Secret Baby

This is Book 24 in the His Secret Baby series, which are based on a theme and can be read alone but are fun to binge-read altogether!

Chapter One – Ashe

I felt like I was melting. That was what I got for thinking I could take a leisurely stroll around campus before class.

Even though it was September, the sun was baking everything as if it was the middle of summer.

I hurried back from my walk around campus, feeling as if I might faint in the heat. I had tied my unruly fire-red hair up into a loose ponytail, but curls were spilling out, bothering my neck and back.

“Fuck yes,” I moaned, as soon as I was back in my dorm room and the sweet A/C hit.

I re-did my hair so that I wouldn’t be a sweaty mess for class. I paused and frowned when I looked in the mirror, thinking I should probably put on a different shirt before it started, at least.

What I sported was basically underwear: a cropped tank top and the shortest cut-offs allowed by law.

Far from a desire to reveal a lot of skin, my outfit was only about survival, so that I didn’t melt to death as I walked. On the other hand, it put me at a higher risk of sunburn. I hailed from the O’Connells, a line of milky white Micks known to crackle audibly in the sun.

Now that I was safely indoors, I checked for telltale signs of sunburn and skin cancer.

“The two S’s,” as my parents called it.

Once I determined that all was clear, I threw on clothes that covered me a little better without being too hot, and then began the trek to my class, passing the visual arts building which seemed as thought it was built as an after-thought, as if it was added to the campus for some cultural panache. What was painfully apparent was that the arts were not a priority of the founders of this school.

It took a generous endowment from a mysterious benefactor before the Faculty of Fine Arts finally opened in 1994. Mind you, this was some forty years after the founding of the college.

Likely trying to make up for lost time, it quickly became the centerpiece of bragging rights amongst the most prestigious universities in the United States, rivaling even NYU and Bennington. What it lacked in design was made up in execution.

Small in structure, owing to little available land, the design was impeccable. It tightly packed in everything the department could ever need, on only two floors.

Classrooms were located at the bottom, offices and conference rooms at the top. The latter were positioned on a mezzanine that overlooked the former. There was even a lounge and tiny reading library tucked away in the northwest corner.

Only thirty new students were accepted every academic year, from hundreds of applications. Why I was selected to attend was a mystery to me, not unlike that of who really built the pyramids.


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