Bon Jovi.
Bryan Adams.
Presley West.
My favourite men of music.
Only one of them within reach.

The night before Presley West was due to leave our small town of Hollings Hill, all of my high school fantasies came to life. He finally wanted me. Eight years I’d spent pining, and now I, bar-tending Tessa Lisbon, was going to make damn sure I made that night count before the music industry stole him.

Never screw your idols. That’s what they say, right? Well, I did, and I did it well. So well, I somehow managed to screw my own heart in the process.

He gave me one night to convince him to stay. In the end, I begged him to go.

Forever.

But that’s the thing about rock stars: they do what they want, when they want, and forever didn’t end up being as long as I expected.

Presley was back, and with his face, voice, and music now everywhere I turned, I officially had nowhere left to run.