Heartbelt Records, Book 1
Travis Cherry’s record label disowned him in almost every way, shape, and form when he was outed in the media.
The thing that sucked?
He still owed them an entire album. But that didn’t meant he’d make it easy on them.
They were the reason he was there, in that nightclub—the gay nightclub— shaking his ass and making a complete fool of himself.
They were also the reason he met Bailey.
And this is their story.
Universal Link
After he was done, he stumbled to the sink and washed his hands like a good boy before taking a deep breath.
He loved the emptiness of his mind when he drank, but hated the way his stomach turned and spun with the room around him. Right then, he couldn’t even remember why he’d wanted a drink in the first place.
“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, and braced his palms on the sink.
“Uhm, bro, I think it does matter. You’re in the ladies’ room,” a deep, amused voice said behind him.
Travis whipped around, or at least that’s what it felt like. In reality, he stumbled a bit and crashed into the paper towel dispenser. To cover up his clumsiness, he dispensed a few and dried his dripping hands before throwing them away.
He missed.
The stranger chuckled, the sound deep and more intoxicating than anything he’d drank. He was drunk, but he wasn’t blind. The muscled guy was blond and beautiful, but not in the fake, spray tan way of L.A. No, this guy had probably grown up throwing around bales of hay or whatever the fuck guys did this far into nowhere.
“You’re wasted,” he observed.
“Am not,” Travis argued.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb with an amused twitch of his lips, and Travis latched on to the way his forearms and biceps flexed as he moved. The guy wasn’t big in a beefy, gym rat way, but strength lined his frame nonetheless.
“So if you’re not wasted, why are you in the women’s restroom?”
Crossing his arms as well, Travis feigned casualness. “The other one was too far.”
Mirth played in those eyes—some mix between brown and gold, and he brushed his thumb over his cheek as he hid a chuckle. “Five feet was too far?”
Well, when he put it like that…
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About Logan:
Logan resides in Tennessee, convinced her southern twang is part of her charm. With two cats and a dog, her hands are full, and not just of treats like her pets would like to believe. As a full time author, she dedicates all of her time bringing to life different characters and developing new worlds for her readers to lose themselves in. And more often than not, she loses herself in them, which is her favorite place to be: with a cat in her lap, a snack in hand, and voices in her head.
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