Authors: Kelly Jamieson
Riptide Publishing
PO Box 6652
Hillsborough, NJ 08844
http://www.riptidepublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Three of Hearts
Copyright © 2014 by Kelly Jamieson
Cover art: L.C. Chase,
http://lcchase.com/design.htm
Editors: Sarah Frantz, Delphine Dryden
Layout: L.C. Chase,
http://lcchase.com/design.htm
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at
Riptidepublishing.com
, or at
[email protected]
.
ISBN: 978-1-62649-189-2
First edition
November, 2014
Also available in paperback:
ISBN: 978-1-62649-255-4
ABOUT THE EBOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED:
We thank you kindly for purchasing this title. Your nonrefundable purchase legally allows you to replicate this file for
your own personal
reading
only, on your own personal computer or device
. Unlike paperback books, sharing ebooks is the same as stealing them. Please do not violate the author’s copyright and harm their livelihood by sharing or distributing this book, in part or whole, for a fee or free, without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner. We love that you love to share the things you love, but sharing ebooks—whether with joyous or malicious intent—steals royalties from authors’ pockets and makes it difficult, if not impossible, for them to be able to afford to keep writing the stories you love. Piracy has sent more than one beloved series the way of the dodo. We appreciate your honesty and support.
Twenty percent of all proceeds from the sale of
Three of Hearts
will be donated to the It Gets Better Project.
The It Gets Better Project’s mission is to communicate to lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender youth around the world that it gets better, and to create and inspire the changes needed to make it better for them. Visit their website for more information and to find out how you can get involved:
itgetsbetter.org/pages/about-it-gets-better-project
.
Haylee Tremayne is tired of the road. The concert tour for Three of Hearts has been a success, but she’s confused by the inexplicable tension between her bandmates, Ben and Lucas. She’s also ready to go home to her boyfriend in Nashville. Time off would probably help everyone relax, even if it is Christmas, a season with too many bad memories.
But right before the last concert, Haylee discovers she’s been dumped for a sexy girly girl. Story of her life: all guys see is tomboy Haylee. At the after-concert party, she drowns her sorrows and—desperate to feel feminine for once in her life—asks Ben and Lucas for a threesome. And it’s just as sexy and fun as she hoped.
Back in Nashville, Ben and Lucas prove again and again that their first night wasn’t a mistake. But the tension between them is still high, and on Christmas Eve, their ménage takes a stunning turn. When it all falls apart, Haylee is terrified that their crazy relationship might cost them the band, their success, and worst of all, each other.
It should have been a good day.
It was our last night on the road before heading home to Nashville for Christmas, the last stop on our sold-out concert tour opening for country music star Clayton Walker. I wasn’t looking forward to Christmas—I
hated
Christmas—but I
was
looking forward to seeing my boyfriend Doug after being away for so long touring. Doug and I had been seeing each other for about six months, and I kind of missed him. Also, my Three of Hearts bandmates Ben and Lucas weren’t getting along lately. Not fighting, but I sensed a tension between them at times that bothered me. Probably they were as tired of traveling as I was. So going home was good.
But instead of having a great day, I was in my hotel room, frozen in my chair in front of my computer, staring at pictures of my boyfriend with another woman.
I’d sat down just before our concert for a quick check of email, Twitter, and Facebook, ready to message Doug something cute about seeing him tomorrow. One glance at my Facebook timeline had my lungs seizing up. I gaped at pictures of Doug with Cheyenne Ranger, a runner-up on
American Idol
a few years ago who was now super popular. And super sexy, with the whitest smile and prettiest dimples, long golden-blonde curls, and what I was pretty sure were recent breast implants.
I wasn’t the most confident person about my looks, but I knew I didn’t need implants.
The photographs showed Cheyenne and Doug at a club with her on his lap, their arms around each other, kissing.
As I stared at the images with horrified fascination, my stomach took a dive and my heart started sledgehammering in my chest. I couldn’t help but read the editorial that went with the pictures.
“Doug,” I whispered. “How could you?”
I closed my eyes and slumped back in my chair.
Well, shit
.
My stomach rolled over, and I flattened my palm on my abdomen, willing away the nausea. Useless thoughts spun through my mind, like . . . maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. Photographers were good at getting shots that seemed incriminating but really weren’t. I’d been a victim of it myself. There was the time I’d gone out to Starbucks with no makeup and ended up on the Country Tunes website looking like a hag with big circles under my eyes. And the time I was wearing a big yellow Predators hoodie, and the photograph had made me look like I weighed two hundred pounds, and rumors started about how much weight I’d gained.
I cracked open my eyes and started scrolling and clicking around the internet. There were more photos and stories about them now being a couple. Doug being a professional hockey player and Cheyenne a rising country music star made them a popular item. There they were, smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes. In another photo, he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his lips pressed to her temple.
Fuck
. That one really got to me because it looked so intimate . . . like he really cared about her. It must be true.
My heart constricted, and my eyes stung.
The knock at the door made me jump, but then I closed my eyes and slumped into the chair again. It was either Ben or Lucas or maybe both of them, ready to head to the concert venue.
Hobbling Christ on a crutch, I didn’t want to face them, and I did
not
want to go and face the rest of the world. Jesus, there were going to be fifteen thousand people at the Tyson Events Center, and all of them would have seen my very public betrayal.
“Haylee!” Lucas called from the other side of the door. “Move your ass! We need to get out of here.”